Let It Unfold [just like you're Told]
Part One
Ryan’s not dumb. He knows he’s probably gone too far this time. He knows he should have kept his mouth shut and humored Brendon until he got distracted by something shiny. But there’s only so much he can take. Brendon can only push him so far before Ryan instinctively pushes back.
Sure, everyone and their mother know the story of Ryan Ross’ Pain. It’s no secret that he’s more likely to hide from the world in his bunk than actually do anything about how he feels, but this thing with Brendon is different. Or at least, it’s different now.
Ryan’s been dealing with this since the very first time Brendon had bounded into rehearsal and directed that grin his way. He’s come to terms with the fact that he’s probably never going to get over this thing he has for Brendon and really he’s ok with that. He’s actually grown quite fond of the way his desire tugs at him. It’s nice to be able to think about the possibilities without having to worry about their implications on reality. Really, Ryan wonders why anyone even bothers to act on their impulses when sometimes the not knowing really is so much better, so much safer.
But then Brendon walks into the room and Ryan remembers exactly how it feels, this impulse. This basic need to be Brendon’s.
The lounge incident goes unmentioned. Brendon keeps his distance and Ryan is thankful for the way things go back to normal.
Except for how they don’t. Instead of being all over him,Brendon’s is putting feet and inches between them. He still talks to Ryan, still makes fun of his bed head and the way his rose vest seems to be multiplying. But he has cut all physical contact. No cuddles, no friendly dude punches, he’s not even sticking to the script onstage.
It’s only when Ryan realizes that now he’s the one that twitches all the time that he fully realizes the weight of his actions. He has maybe made a tactical error.
This suspicion is confirmed the very next night. Ryan’s sticking to his side of the stage, hoping that the distance will make it easier to hide the jealously that sets in his eyes every time Brendon sings to Jon or falls to his knees in front of Spencer’s kit. He keeps his head down, concentrating on the slipslide of his fingertips over his sweat-slick fret board. He gets lost in it, forgets the strange sensation of thousands of pairs of wide eyes raking across him from head to toe until he feels one pair trained sharper than the rest.
He feels it like a physical touch, pointed firm to his face. He knows without having to look up but does anyway. Brendon is still at his mic, still singing himself raw and real for this crowd that will never forget it. But when their gaze locks it feels like everything else gets muted.
Ryan can’t tell the thump of Spencer’s drums from the frantic thud of his heart and doesn’t even try to distinguish between the way his breath is wrenched from his lungs and this boy 4 feet away from him because they’re one and the same.
Brendon crosses the stage and Ryan doesn’t know what to expect. Is Brendon going to continue the way he has been, forgoing the usual stage script for something more subdued, less real? Or is he going to revert to what they’d rehearsed?
In typical Brendon fashion, he does neither.
He stalks across the stage, crowds into Ryan’s space and cants his hips to shield them from the audience. He’s curved into Ryan’s side, fitting into him and protecting him like a human shield. He quirks his head, pressing closer still and covers the mic with the palm of his hand when his verse ends. He slants his mouth to the curve of Ryan’s ear and just breathes.
Ryan’s heart skips, literally skips an entire beat and he can’t handle this anymore. Can’t deal with the way his body automatically reacts to the proximity of Brendon’s. Won’t deal with the way the fucker keeps doing this to him onstage.
Said fucker curls his free hand around Ryan’s wrist, still molded to the neck of his guitar and Ryan physically feels his body’s reaction to this catalyst, the prickling of his skin and the shock of sensation sparking up his arm making him shiver and gasp. Brendon gasps right back at him, a hot burst of air against sweat cooled skin as his mouth moves to trace the curve of Ryan’s neck where it meets his jaw bone. The hand on his wrist tightens and Ryan’s just about to pull away before this goes above and beyond a stage show when Brendon’s lips part and he speaks low in Ryan’s ear.
“Tonight, Ryan Ross, you’re going to be mine.”
He twirls away, taking Ryan’s brain function with him and addresses the crowd like nothing at all happened. Ryan spends the rest of the show in a daze, relying on muscle memory like he’s never had to before.
Coming offstage after a show feels like trying to shed your own skin, trying to adjust to a foreign atmosphere.
Ryan doesn’t have time to shake the adrenaline rush before Brendon’s fingers are around his wrist once more, squeezing and tugging. He distantly notes Brendon telling Spencer and Jon to have a good time at the after-party, some lie about he and Ryan working on lyrics or something slipping off his tongue as easily as his other hand is slipping around Ryan’s hip and beneath the material of his dress pants.
They somehow manage to stumble their way toward the bus, Brendon completely bracketing Ryan with his body with his chest pressed to Ryan’s back and the hand that isn’t clenched around his hip still gripping his wrist like he’s afraid Ryan would run given the chance.
But he wouldn’t. He’s pliant to Brendon’s touch, and merely shapes his body to fit the curve of Brendon’s. He’s prepared to see this through this time. It’s not about winning or losing anymore. It doesn’t matter who admitted what first, they both know where this is going and Ryan just hopes he doesn’t turn out to be a disappointment to Brendon.
When it comes to their music, he knows Brendon strives to satisfy Ryan and only Ryan. But in terms of this, Ryan just wants to surrender himself to Brendon.
Really, Ryan just wants.
He shivers again and tugs his bottom lip between his teeth, suddenly aware of exactly what’s about to happen.
Brendon must feel him tense because he halts their progress with a press of his palm bringing their hips closer still. They must look ridiculous as they stand there, tucked together with Brendon nosing at the back of Ryan’s neck. Ryan leans back into it until Brendon pulls away, quick to push Ryan back against one of the other buses.
Brendon steps into his space but doesn’t make a move to keep him there. He reaches out to lace their fingers together and shifts to press a kiss to the corner of Ryan’s mouth.
“You don’t have to be nervous, Ryan. You’re getting what you want.”
He pulls back, grinning as he tightens his grip on Ryan’s hand and starts to tug them towards their own bus again.
“Now all you have to do is prove that you’re something worth wanting.”
They don’t part again until they make it through to the back of the bus and Brendon shoves Ryan up against the door to the back lounge, finally moving to kiss him. He lifts a hand to cup Ryan’s face as he presses their mouths together and twists it back into Ryan’s hair to hold him there.
Ryan wants this, but he’s not about to give it up easily either. He keeps his lips sealed tight even when he feels Brendon’s tongue slip wetly across his bottom lip.
Brendon pulls away at the resistance and sighs.
“Tut tut, Ryan Ross. I thought we’d already covered this part of the program. To recap: You want me. You want every part of me, from my tongue in your mouth to my hands on your skin to my cock in your ass. Now quit it and give in.”
Ryan’s kind of embarrassed, all things considered. Not because of what Brendon’s saying, but because of how right he is. He feels stupid for trying to resist it now; it’s not like they don’t both know how this goes. Ryan has this one shot to prove that he can be what Brendon needs, what Brendon wants, and he’s already fucking it up.
He murmurs a “sorry”, head bent and cheeks hot with shame as he wraps an apologetic hand in the hem of Brendon’s t-shirt and tugs him closer to make it up to him.
He opens up first this time, finally realizing that this is his chance to fucking go for it. He gasps into Brendon’s mouth as Brendon’s tongue meets his and twists in tandem with the flare of want that makes his stomach jolt. Brendon just laughs, slipping a thigh between Ryan’s and shifts. He feels Brendon’s cock hard against his hip and Ryan would be embarrassingly hard in response if it weren’t for the fact that he’s been that way since the first tightening of Brendon’s fingers around his wrist and he’s determined to make the most of this.
His body finally catches up with his depraved mind and he slips one hand down the back of Brendon’s pants as the other reaches behind him to locate the door handle.
Ryan manages to twist them around as they stumble towards the couches and pushes Brendon backwards so he can stand in the v of his legs. Brendon wastes no time in grabbing Ryan’s ass in both hands, pulling him down to sit astride him. Ryan groans at the contact again, suddenly feeling very over-dressed for the occasion.
Brendon pulls Ryan’s mouth back down to his, and Ryan opens up for him again. It’s not like he’s kissing Brendon, so much as letting himself be kissed by Brendon. And the worst part is - Ryan knows he could come from this alone. Feeling Brendon hard underneath him, tongue wet and hot in his mouth as his hands sliding from the nonexistent curve of Ryan’s waist down to the slightly more evident curve of his ass.
Shirts are quickly discarded and Ryan whimpers at the skin on skin contact, the heat from their post-show bodies pooling in his stomach, coiling lower as Brendon moves to work his jeans off.
“Enough of this making out shit, Ross. If I wanted to fuck a girl, I would.”
Ryan decides that he needs to find a way to shut Brendon up, and fast. He shimmies out of his jeans and slides to his knees, hands tugging impatiently at Brendon’s waistband. They slide from his hips and Ryan’s mouth waters. The line of Brendon’s hips hastily covered in some ridiculously low slung boxers makes his lips part in anticipation. He can’t believe he gets to have Brendon’s hips sharp and willing under his mouth.
Brendon’s hand reaches to trace his fingertips beneath the curve of Ryan’s bottom lip and pulls back to deliver a stinging slap to his cheek.
“We don’t have all week Ryan. Are you going to suck my dick or should I go find someone else to bestow that pleasure upon?”
Ryan’s fingers claw at Brendon’s hips, wrenching his boxers to his knees and he leans, hoping that the way he wraps his hot wet mouth around Brendon’s cock will act as enough of an apology.
It seems to do the trick, if the way Brendon suddenly gets an awful lot more agreeable is anything to go by. His hands in Ryan’s hair are almost gentle, tugging his head backwards by his hair so his mouth is at a better angle. He sighs as his cock hits the back of Ryan’s throat and ignores the way Ryan has to suck his way back up to the tip really quickly for fear of choking.
Ryan’s hands slide up the back of Brendon’s thighs, one coming to cup Brendon’s balls in his fingers as the other grips his hip.
Ryan pulls back until just the head of Brendon’s cock rests between his lips. He tongues at the slit, knowing that he’s driving Brendon crazy.
“Ryan, fuck. Ryan, do it fucking properly or don’t do it at all.”
Ryan falls forward again, relaxing his throat as he takes Brendon in as far as he can.
“Oh fuck.” Brendon’s grip on his hair tightens, keeping Ryan’s head where it is as he starts to thrust shallowly into his mouth.
Ryan has to drop a hand into his own lap, moaning at the thought of Brendon just fucking his mouth however he wants. The vibration make Brendon’s thrusts speed up. It’s getting messy now, the taste of Brendon’s precome making Ryan’s mouth water again.
“Yeah Ryan, just like that. Take it, come on, fuck. You’re mine, Ross. Mine. Show me.”
It takes Ryan a minute to realize what he means, but then he sees the way Brendon’s mouth has fallen slack and feels the hands in his hair fall away.
He pulls back, pulls a messy lick up his palm and wraps his hand around Brendon’s cock as he sits back on his knees, mouth open. Brendon sits forward and covers Ryan’s hand with his own so he can control the rhythm as they jerk him off.
His head bows and Ryan feels the muscles in his thighs tense and strain as he comes, not really aiming for Ryan’s mouth when his come starts to drip down his chin.
Ryan gasps. He feels so filthy, so well and truly used. It’s dirty and he loves it.
“Well that wasn’t awful. As a reward, I’m gonna let you climb up here and rub yourself off on me.”
Brendon kicks off his boxers and reaches to pull Ryan up. They fall sideways onto the couch, Ryan stuck between Brendon and the cushions at his back. Ryan pushes a knee between Brendon’s and pulls the other across his top thigh, trapping Brendon’s thigh between his.
He’s so hard it’s becoming painful. He can’t really believe that he just managed to give Brendon head without embarrassing himself, but then again - the very same Brendon is now leaning forward to lick his own come from Ryan’s chin, so not much about any of this is surprising to Ryan anymore.
“You like that, Ryan? Like how it feels to let me do whatever I want to you? I think I’m gonna fuck you next, will you like that too?”
Ryan’s grinding against Brendon now, panting into his mouth as Brendon sucks traces of himself from Ryan’s tongue.
“Come on Ryan, the sooner you come for me the sooner I can fuck you. You want that don’t you? You want my cock inside you? I think I’ll have you ride me, you’d look good on my dick.”
Ryan groans, spilling himself between them as Brendon grins into his hair.
“So fucking easy, Ross. I almost wish I’d known sooner, I could’ve been fucking with you all this time, maybe even literally fucking you sometimes if I got really desperate.”
He reaches behind his head, pulling lube from between the sofa cushion with a flourish. He pushes Ryan back down to the other end of the couch, pressing the tube into his hand as he sits back against the pile of cushions.
“I assume I don’t need to hold your hand for this part? You know how to finger fuck yourself, right Ryan? I’m sure you have enough practice at it, all those lonely nights in the bunks - knowing that I’m just across the aisle, wishing it was me instead of your fingers stretching, filling you.”
Ryan shakes his head and takes a breath, thankful that he’s just come because he knows that the anticipation of being fucked by Brendon wouldn’t exactly be easy to ignore.
Brendon stretches his arms above his head and folds his arms behind his head, trying to look disinterested even though Ryan sees the way his eye’s darken when he slips his slick fingers down between his legs. He stretches his knee’s further apart and plants one foot on the floor so Brendon can see everything.
He slips two fingers in easily, having done just what Brendon suspects early that morning. He shifts, trying to get the right angle when Brendon sits up suddenly, pulling his hand away by the wrist.
“Ah ah, I want you ready. I never said you could have fun while you get there. Two is enough anyway. You probably wanna feel this, huh? Want to have something to remember if you never get to have this again.”
Brendon grips Ryan by the hips, pulling him onto his lap. Ryan whimpers and he’s not sure whether it’s from the thought of this being the only time he’ll ever get to see Brendon like this or the way he can feel Brendon’s cock, getting hard again as it slips between Ryan’s ass cheeks.
Brendon gropes for the lube, slicking himself up before he pauses to look up at Ryan, serious for a second.
“How do you want to do this, Ryan? Condom? Or do you want to feel me come inside you? I’m clean, and I know you are.”
Ryan screws his eyes shut, he’s almost completely hard again already and Brendon has such a way with words.
“Want … want to feel you.”
Brendon laughs, still fisting his cock lazily.
“Say please.”
Ryan bites down on his lip, swallowing the lump in his throat.
“… Please. Please Brendon.”
“Please what?”
Brendon is lifting Ryan up now, fingers tight enough around his hips to leave marks. Ryan feels Brendon’s cock slip between his cheeks, but it’s not where he wants it.
“Fuck, Brendon. Please. Come inside me.”
Brendon brings a hand to his dick, guiding just the tip to nudge at Ryan’s hole before he finally, finally presses in.
Ryan feels himself open for Brendon, feels the drag as Brendon pushes inside and his eyes roll back in his head. He feels so full, so satisfied. He looks down and finds Brendon smiling up at him, smug and flushed.
Ryan lifts up, bracing his hands on the arm of the couch before sliding back down hard, and that makes the smug grin fall from Brendon’s face. His jaw drops, mouth falling open.
“Ross, fuck. Ryan.”
His hands tighten on Ryan’s hips, pulling Ryan down before he can properly lift up again. He stays like that for a moment, lips parted and eyes falling shut before they snap open again.
He quickly flips their position, lifting Ryan’s knees open and pinning his hands above him as he pulls back, pushing back into Ryan again, setting the rhythm fast and dirty.
He flicks his sweaty fringe from his eyes as he leans down, hips twisting viciously, to speak against Ryan’s mouth.
“This is too. Fucking. Good. You’re so ... fuck. Tight. I’m not trusting you with this. Shit. Ryan. Ryan, fuck.”
Ryan finally grins, proud that he’s done something to please Brendon. He lifts his hips to meet Brendon’s thrusts and slips a hand into Brendon’s hair to pull his mouth down to his, their tongues meeting in a messy swirl of wet sighs.
He can finally let himself enjoy this, and he shudders at the feeling of Brendon fucking him so well, the hands around his wrists so pointedly marking him.
“Brendon. So. So good, so fucking hot. Harder .. please. Brendon, please”.
Brendon lets one of his hands slip from Ryan’s wrists, sliding down the length of his arm to wander across his chest and down his side, finally resting on his hip. His grip tightens, keeping Ryan still so he can fuck him harder, get deeper.
Ryan can’t keep this up. He’s so full, so perfectly full and it’s so good that he needs to scream, almost does.
Brendon licks the tension from his throat and nuzzles at his jaw, moans forced out like hot humming against Ryan’s skin.
“Like this, Ryan? This how you want it?”
“Want this, Brendon. Want you. Fuck. Wanted you for so long, need you”.
Ryan’s knee’s start to tremble and he knows he’s close. Can barely stand this, Brendon’s cock driving in him, his fingers laying bruises on his skin for everyone to see. And everyone will see, they’ll know that Ryan is Brendon’s now. He reaches that realization just as Brendon brings both hands to tighten around Ryan’s hips, pulling him up and onto his cock as he buries himself deep in Ryan, and Ryan comes without even being touched.
Ryan comes breathless and gasping, just from Brendon fucking him, breaking apart from just the friction of Brendon’s cock pushing and dragging inside him. Brendon looks down at him in wonder, leaning down to touch his lips to Ryan’s and lace their trembling fingers together and it feels like he’s putting Ryan back together again.
Brendon pushes in one last time, untangling their hands to grip Ryan’s ass in both of his and pull him down to meet his thrust before he finally stills, eyes shut tight and jaw dropped as he groans.
Ryan almost thinks he imagines it when he thinks he hears Brendon whisper his name laced with the word “mine” as he comes deep inside Ryan, hotwetgood and Ryan shudders in Brendon’s arms, possibly from his own aftershocks and probably from the way Brendon’s hands are sliding slowly up his back to pull Ryan closer.
But when he finally pulls back to look at Ryan properly, Brendon opens his eyes to peer down at him and Ryan sees the confirmation in his gaze.
“Not bad, Ryan Ross. Not bad at all.”
Brendon burrows closer and pulls Ryan’s arm to drape across his waist. And if it wanders a little lower, well no-one points that out.
“So, uh. This was uh. I mean, I was … Um. Ok?” Ryan winces as his voice breaks over the words.
Brendon sighs and Ryan’s breath hitches in his throat. If he did something wrong, if he never gets to …
“Ryan Ross, you complete douche”. Brendon tugs hard on Ryan’s wrist, shifting their position so they’re lying on their sides, facing each other. He lifts a hand to push Ryan’s fringe out of his hair and smiles. Ryan’s failing breathing functions are pretty much going to result in him needing a new lung pretty soon unless he learns to adapt to the shock of that smile combined with nudity.
“Ry, I know I’ve been sort of … full on about this”. Ryan frowns, prepared to leap to his death from this bus when Brendon tells him that this was a mistake.
“Uh, the bus isn’t actually moving. And you’re naked. Unless you’re planning suicide by shame and mockery, I see definite flaws in your plan, Ross”. And now apparently Ryan’s brain-to-mouth filter has given up too. He starts to pull away, but Brendon’s grip puts a stop to that.
“Hey, hey no. That’s not what I’m gonna say Ryan. Well I mean, it is. This is pretty much the biggest mistake either of us could make. And the fact that we’d be making it together? Yeah. Disaster of epic proportions”.
Ryan nods, consoling himself with the knowledge that at least at he got to have what he wanted just this once, before it got taken away.
“That’s why I was so forceful about this Ryan. It’s a big deal, and I wanted to make sure that you were sure. I thought maybe if I couldn’t scare you off, it’d mean you were really serious about this”.
“Serious about this!? Brendon. You’ve almost made me come in my pants onstage in front of thousands of people at least 3 times in the last 10 days. I scalded myself with hot tea when you did that impromptu first aid demonstration with Spencer and your tongue yesterday. And I didn’t even notice until Jon pointed out that my skin was blistering. If public humiliation and 3rd degree burns aren’t serious, then I don’t know what is”.
Brendon laughs and ducks his head against Ryan’s shoulder, the vibrations making Ryan’s skin prickle.
“Well, I’m not gonna pretend that it wasn’t fun to mess with your head too. But I’m not playing anymore. I’m in, Ross. Your ass is mine now”.
Ryan’s heart leaps into his throat, where it is quickly met by Brendon’s tongue. He pulls away to grin, but has to make sure once and for all.
“Are you serious about this Brendon? I mean, are you sure?”.
Brendon rolls them over, pulling Ryan on top of him and sliding his hands back down to cup Ryan’s ass.
“Oh yes, I’m definitely keeping this”.
“That’s not what I meant, fucker. And jesus. Like you of all people need more ass than you were born with”.
Brendon laughs again and Ryan sets about shutting him up again. It takes roughly 26 minutes and an immeasurable amount of tongue, but knowing that they’ve got all the time in the world and the combined stamina of a 16 year old makes Round II all the more gratifying.
Not to mention fucking hot.
End.
Ryan’s not dumb. He knows he’s probably gone too far this time. He knows he should have kept his mouth shut and humored Brendon until he got distracted by something shiny. But there’s only so much he can take. Brendon can only push him so far before Ryan instinctively pushes back.
Sure, everyone and their mother know the story of Ryan Ross’ Pain. It’s no secret that he’s more likely to hide from the world in his bunk than actually do anything about how he feels, but this thing with Brendon is different. Or at least, it’s different now.
Ryan’s been dealing with this since the very first time Brendon had bounded into rehearsal and directed that grin his way. He’s come to terms with the fact that he’s probably never going to get over this thing he has for Brendon and really he’s ok with that. He’s actually grown quite fond of the way his desire tugs at him. It’s nice to be able to think about the possibilities without having to worry about their implications on reality. Really, Ryan wonders why anyone even bothers to act on their impulses when sometimes the not knowing really is so much better, so much safer.
But then Brendon walks into the room and Ryan remembers exactly how it feels, this impulse. This basic need to be Brendon’s.
The lounge incident goes unmentioned. Brendon keeps his distance and Ryan is thankful for the way things go back to normal.
Except for how they don’t. Instead of being all over him,Brendon’s is putting feet and inches between them. He still talks to Ryan, still makes fun of his bed head and the way his rose vest seems to be multiplying. But he has cut all physical contact. No cuddles, no friendly dude punches, he’s not even sticking to the script onstage.
It’s only when Ryan realizes that now he’s the one that twitches all the time that he fully realizes the weight of his actions. He has maybe made a tactical error.
This suspicion is confirmed the very next night. Ryan’s sticking to his side of the stage, hoping that the distance will make it easier to hide the jealously that sets in his eyes every time Brendon sings to Jon or falls to his knees in front of Spencer’s kit. He keeps his head down, concentrating on the slipslide of his fingertips over his sweat-slick fret board. He gets lost in it, forgets the strange sensation of thousands of pairs of wide eyes raking across him from head to toe until he feels one pair trained sharper than the rest.
He feels it like a physical touch, pointed firm to his face. He knows without having to look up but does anyway. Brendon is still at his mic, still singing himself raw and real for this crowd that will never forget it. But when their gaze locks it feels like everything else gets muted.
Ryan can’t tell the thump of Spencer’s drums from the frantic thud of his heart and doesn’t even try to distinguish between the way his breath is wrenched from his lungs and this boy 4 feet away from him because they’re one and the same.
Brendon crosses the stage and Ryan doesn’t know what to expect. Is Brendon going to continue the way he has been, forgoing the usual stage script for something more subdued, less real? Or is he going to revert to what they’d rehearsed?
In typical Brendon fashion, he does neither.
He stalks across the stage, crowds into Ryan’s space and cants his hips to shield them from the audience. He’s curved into Ryan’s side, fitting into him and protecting him like a human shield. He quirks his head, pressing closer still and covers the mic with the palm of his hand when his verse ends. He slants his mouth to the curve of Ryan’s ear and just breathes.
Ryan’s heart skips, literally skips an entire beat and he can’t handle this anymore. Can’t deal with the way his body automatically reacts to the proximity of Brendon’s. Won’t deal with the way the fucker keeps doing this to him onstage.
Said fucker curls his free hand around Ryan’s wrist, still molded to the neck of his guitar and Ryan physically feels his body’s reaction to this catalyst, the prickling of his skin and the shock of sensation sparking up his arm making him shiver and gasp. Brendon gasps right back at him, a hot burst of air against sweat cooled skin as his mouth moves to trace the curve of Ryan’s neck where it meets his jaw bone. The hand on his wrist tightens and Ryan’s just about to pull away before this goes above and beyond a stage show when Brendon’s lips part and he speaks low in Ryan’s ear.
“Tonight, Ryan Ross, you’re going to be mine.”
He twirls away, taking Ryan’s brain function with him and addresses the crowd like nothing at all happened. Ryan spends the rest of the show in a daze, relying on muscle memory like he’s never had to before.
Coming offstage after a show feels like trying to shed your own skin, trying to adjust to a foreign atmosphere.
Ryan doesn’t have time to shake the adrenaline rush before Brendon’s fingers are around his wrist once more, squeezing and tugging. He distantly notes Brendon telling Spencer and Jon to have a good time at the after-party, some lie about he and Ryan working on lyrics or something slipping off his tongue as easily as his other hand is slipping around Ryan’s hip and beneath the material of his dress pants.
They somehow manage to stumble their way toward the bus, Brendon completely bracketing Ryan with his body with his chest pressed to Ryan’s back and the hand that isn’t clenched around his hip still gripping his wrist like he’s afraid Ryan would run given the chance.
But he wouldn’t. He’s pliant to Brendon’s touch, and merely shapes his body to fit the curve of Brendon’s. He’s prepared to see this through this time. It’s not about winning or losing anymore. It doesn’t matter who admitted what first, they both know where this is going and Ryan just hopes he doesn’t turn out to be a disappointment to Brendon.
When it comes to their music, he knows Brendon strives to satisfy Ryan and only Ryan. But in terms of this, Ryan just wants to surrender himself to Brendon.
Really, Ryan just wants.
He shivers again and tugs his bottom lip between his teeth, suddenly aware of exactly what’s about to happen.
Brendon must feel him tense because he halts their progress with a press of his palm bringing their hips closer still. They must look ridiculous as they stand there, tucked together with Brendon nosing at the back of Ryan’s neck. Ryan leans back into it until Brendon pulls away, quick to push Ryan back against one of the other buses.
Brendon steps into his space but doesn’t make a move to keep him there. He reaches out to lace their fingers together and shifts to press a kiss to the corner of Ryan’s mouth.
“You don’t have to be nervous, Ryan. You’re getting what you want.”
He pulls back, grinning as he tightens his grip on Ryan’s hand and starts to tug them towards their own bus again.
“Now all you have to do is prove that you’re something worth wanting.”
They don’t part again until they make it through to the back of the bus and Brendon shoves Ryan up against the door to the back lounge, finally moving to kiss him. He lifts a hand to cup Ryan’s face as he presses their mouths together and twists it back into Ryan’s hair to hold him there.
Ryan wants this, but he’s not about to give it up easily either. He keeps his lips sealed tight even when he feels Brendon’s tongue slip wetly across his bottom lip.
Brendon pulls away at the resistance and sighs.
“Tut tut, Ryan Ross. I thought we’d already covered this part of the program. To recap: You want me. You want every part of me, from my tongue in your mouth to my hands on your skin to my cock in your ass. Now quit it and give in.”
Ryan’s kind of embarrassed, all things considered. Not because of what Brendon’s saying, but because of how right he is. He feels stupid for trying to resist it now; it’s not like they don’t both know how this goes. Ryan has this one shot to prove that he can be what Brendon needs, what Brendon wants, and he’s already fucking it up.
He murmurs a “sorry”, head bent and cheeks hot with shame as he wraps an apologetic hand in the hem of Brendon’s t-shirt and tugs him closer to make it up to him.
He opens up first this time, finally realizing that this is his chance to fucking go for it. He gasps into Brendon’s mouth as Brendon’s tongue meets his and twists in tandem with the flare of want that makes his stomach jolt. Brendon just laughs, slipping a thigh between Ryan’s and shifts. He feels Brendon’s cock hard against his hip and Ryan would be embarrassingly hard in response if it weren’t for the fact that he’s been that way since the first tightening of Brendon’s fingers around his wrist and he’s determined to make the most of this.
His body finally catches up with his depraved mind and he slips one hand down the back of Brendon’s pants as the other reaches behind him to locate the door handle.
Ryan manages to twist them around as they stumble towards the couches and pushes Brendon backwards so he can stand in the v of his legs. Brendon wastes no time in grabbing Ryan’s ass in both hands, pulling him down to sit astride him. Ryan groans at the contact again, suddenly feeling very over-dressed for the occasion.
Brendon pulls Ryan’s mouth back down to his, and Ryan opens up for him again. It’s not like he’s kissing Brendon, so much as letting himself be kissed by Brendon. And the worst part is - Ryan knows he could come from this alone. Feeling Brendon hard underneath him, tongue wet and hot in his mouth as his hands sliding from the nonexistent curve of Ryan’s waist down to the slightly more evident curve of his ass.
Shirts are quickly discarded and Ryan whimpers at the skin on skin contact, the heat from their post-show bodies pooling in his stomach, coiling lower as Brendon moves to work his jeans off.
“Enough of this making out shit, Ross. If I wanted to fuck a girl, I would.”
Ryan decides that he needs to find a way to shut Brendon up, and fast. He shimmies out of his jeans and slides to his knees, hands tugging impatiently at Brendon’s waistband. They slide from his hips and Ryan’s mouth waters. The line of Brendon’s hips hastily covered in some ridiculously low slung boxers makes his lips part in anticipation. He can’t believe he gets to have Brendon’s hips sharp and willing under his mouth.
Brendon’s hand reaches to trace his fingertips beneath the curve of Ryan’s bottom lip and pulls back to deliver a stinging slap to his cheek.
“We don’t have all week Ryan. Are you going to suck my dick or should I go find someone else to bestow that pleasure upon?”
Ryan’s fingers claw at Brendon’s hips, wrenching his boxers to his knees and he leans, hoping that the way he wraps his hot wet mouth around Brendon’s cock will act as enough of an apology.
It seems to do the trick, if the way Brendon suddenly gets an awful lot more agreeable is anything to go by. His hands in Ryan’s hair are almost gentle, tugging his head backwards by his hair so his mouth is at a better angle. He sighs as his cock hits the back of Ryan’s throat and ignores the way Ryan has to suck his way back up to the tip really quickly for fear of choking.
Ryan’s hands slide up the back of Brendon’s thighs, one coming to cup Brendon’s balls in his fingers as the other grips his hip.
Ryan pulls back until just the head of Brendon’s cock rests between his lips. He tongues at the slit, knowing that he’s driving Brendon crazy.
“Ryan, fuck. Ryan, do it fucking properly or don’t do it at all.”
Ryan falls forward again, relaxing his throat as he takes Brendon in as far as he can.
“Oh fuck.” Brendon’s grip on his hair tightens, keeping Ryan’s head where it is as he starts to thrust shallowly into his mouth.
Ryan has to drop a hand into his own lap, moaning at the thought of Brendon just fucking his mouth however he wants. The vibration make Brendon’s thrusts speed up. It’s getting messy now, the taste of Brendon’s precome making Ryan’s mouth water again.
“Yeah Ryan, just like that. Take it, come on, fuck. You’re mine, Ross. Mine. Show me.”
It takes Ryan a minute to realize what he means, but then he sees the way Brendon’s mouth has fallen slack and feels the hands in his hair fall away.
He pulls back, pulls a messy lick up his palm and wraps his hand around Brendon’s cock as he sits back on his knees, mouth open. Brendon sits forward and covers Ryan’s hand with his own so he can control the rhythm as they jerk him off.
His head bows and Ryan feels the muscles in his thighs tense and strain as he comes, not really aiming for Ryan’s mouth when his come starts to drip down his chin.
Ryan gasps. He feels so filthy, so well and truly used. It’s dirty and he loves it.
“Well that wasn’t awful. As a reward, I’m gonna let you climb up here and rub yourself off on me.”
Brendon kicks off his boxers and reaches to pull Ryan up. They fall sideways onto the couch, Ryan stuck between Brendon and the cushions at his back. Ryan pushes a knee between Brendon’s and pulls the other across his top thigh, trapping Brendon’s thigh between his.
He’s so hard it’s becoming painful. He can’t really believe that he just managed to give Brendon head without embarrassing himself, but then again - the very same Brendon is now leaning forward to lick his own come from Ryan’s chin, so not much about any of this is surprising to Ryan anymore.
“You like that, Ryan? Like how it feels to let me do whatever I want to you? I think I’m gonna fuck you next, will you like that too?”
Ryan’s grinding against Brendon now, panting into his mouth as Brendon sucks traces of himself from Ryan’s tongue.
“Come on Ryan, the sooner you come for me the sooner I can fuck you. You want that don’t you? You want my cock inside you? I think I’ll have you ride me, you’d look good on my dick.”
Ryan groans, spilling himself between them as Brendon grins into his hair.
“So fucking easy, Ross. I almost wish I’d known sooner, I could’ve been fucking with you all this time, maybe even literally fucking you sometimes if I got really desperate.”
He reaches behind his head, pulling lube from between the sofa cushion with a flourish. He pushes Ryan back down to the other end of the couch, pressing the tube into his hand as he sits back against the pile of cushions.
“I assume I don’t need to hold your hand for this part? You know how to finger fuck yourself, right Ryan? I’m sure you have enough practice at it, all those lonely nights in the bunks - knowing that I’m just across the aisle, wishing it was me instead of your fingers stretching, filling you.”
Ryan shakes his head and takes a breath, thankful that he’s just come because he knows that the anticipation of being fucked by Brendon wouldn’t exactly be easy to ignore.
Brendon stretches his arms above his head and folds his arms behind his head, trying to look disinterested even though Ryan sees the way his eye’s darken when he slips his slick fingers down between his legs. He stretches his knee’s further apart and plants one foot on the floor so Brendon can see everything.
He slips two fingers in easily, having done just what Brendon suspects early that morning. He shifts, trying to get the right angle when Brendon sits up suddenly, pulling his hand away by the wrist.
“Ah ah, I want you ready. I never said you could have fun while you get there. Two is enough anyway. You probably wanna feel this, huh? Want to have something to remember if you never get to have this again.”
Brendon grips Ryan by the hips, pulling him onto his lap. Ryan whimpers and he’s not sure whether it’s from the thought of this being the only time he’ll ever get to see Brendon like this or the way he can feel Brendon’s cock, getting hard again as it slips between Ryan’s ass cheeks.
Brendon gropes for the lube, slicking himself up before he pauses to look up at Ryan, serious for a second.
“How do you want to do this, Ryan? Condom? Or do you want to feel me come inside you? I’m clean, and I know you are.”
Ryan screws his eyes shut, he’s almost completely hard again already and Brendon has such a way with words.
“Want … want to feel you.”
Brendon laughs, still fisting his cock lazily.
“Say please.”
Ryan bites down on his lip, swallowing the lump in his throat.
“… Please. Please Brendon.”
“Please what?”
Brendon is lifting Ryan up now, fingers tight enough around his hips to leave marks. Ryan feels Brendon’s cock slip between his cheeks, but it’s not where he wants it.
“Fuck, Brendon. Please. Come inside me.”
Brendon brings a hand to his dick, guiding just the tip to nudge at Ryan’s hole before he finally, finally presses in.
Ryan feels himself open for Brendon, feels the drag as Brendon pushes inside and his eyes roll back in his head. He feels so full, so satisfied. He looks down and finds Brendon smiling up at him, smug and flushed.
Ryan lifts up, bracing his hands on the arm of the couch before sliding back down hard, and that makes the smug grin fall from Brendon’s face. His jaw drops, mouth falling open.
“Ross, fuck. Ryan.”
His hands tighten on Ryan’s hips, pulling Ryan down before he can properly lift up again. He stays like that for a moment, lips parted and eyes falling shut before they snap open again.
He quickly flips their position, lifting Ryan’s knees open and pinning his hands above him as he pulls back, pushing back into Ryan again, setting the rhythm fast and dirty.
He flicks his sweaty fringe from his eyes as he leans down, hips twisting viciously, to speak against Ryan’s mouth.
“This is too. Fucking. Good. You’re so ... fuck. Tight. I’m not trusting you with this. Shit. Ryan. Ryan, fuck.”
Ryan finally grins, proud that he’s done something to please Brendon. He lifts his hips to meet Brendon’s thrusts and slips a hand into Brendon’s hair to pull his mouth down to his, their tongues meeting in a messy swirl of wet sighs.
He can finally let himself enjoy this, and he shudders at the feeling of Brendon fucking him so well, the hands around his wrists so pointedly marking him.
“Brendon. So. So good, so fucking hot. Harder .. please. Brendon, please”.
Brendon lets one of his hands slip from Ryan’s wrists, sliding down the length of his arm to wander across his chest and down his side, finally resting on his hip. His grip tightens, keeping Ryan still so he can fuck him harder, get deeper.
Ryan can’t keep this up. He’s so full, so perfectly full and it’s so good that he needs to scream, almost does.
Brendon licks the tension from his throat and nuzzles at his jaw, moans forced out like hot humming against Ryan’s skin.
“Like this, Ryan? This how you want it?”
“Want this, Brendon. Want you. Fuck. Wanted you for so long, need you”.
Ryan’s knee’s start to tremble and he knows he’s close. Can barely stand this, Brendon’s cock driving in him, his fingers laying bruises on his skin for everyone to see. And everyone will see, they’ll know that Ryan is Brendon’s now. He reaches that realization just as Brendon brings both hands to tighten around Ryan’s hips, pulling him up and onto his cock as he buries himself deep in Ryan, and Ryan comes without even being touched.
Ryan comes breathless and gasping, just from Brendon fucking him, breaking apart from just the friction of Brendon’s cock pushing and dragging inside him. Brendon looks down at him in wonder, leaning down to touch his lips to Ryan’s and lace their trembling fingers together and it feels like he’s putting Ryan back together again.
Brendon pushes in one last time, untangling their hands to grip Ryan’s ass in both of his and pull him down to meet his thrust before he finally stills, eyes shut tight and jaw dropped as he groans.
Ryan almost thinks he imagines it when he thinks he hears Brendon whisper his name laced with the word “mine” as he comes deep inside Ryan, hotwetgood and Ryan shudders in Brendon’s arms, possibly from his own aftershocks and probably from the way Brendon’s hands are sliding slowly up his back to pull Ryan closer.
But when he finally pulls back to look at Ryan properly, Brendon opens his eyes to peer down at him and Ryan sees the confirmation in his gaze.
“Not bad, Ryan Ross. Not bad at all.”
Brendon burrows closer and pulls Ryan’s arm to drape across his waist. And if it wanders a little lower, well no-one points that out.
“So, uh. This was uh. I mean, I was … Um. Ok?” Ryan winces as his voice breaks over the words.
Brendon sighs and Ryan’s breath hitches in his throat. If he did something wrong, if he never gets to …
“Ryan Ross, you complete douche”. Brendon tugs hard on Ryan’s wrist, shifting their position so they’re lying on their sides, facing each other. He lifts a hand to push Ryan’s fringe out of his hair and smiles. Ryan’s failing breathing functions are pretty much going to result in him needing a new lung pretty soon unless he learns to adapt to the shock of that smile combined with nudity.
“Ry, I know I’ve been sort of … full on about this”. Ryan frowns, prepared to leap to his death from this bus when Brendon tells him that this was a mistake.
“Uh, the bus isn’t actually moving. And you’re naked. Unless you’re planning suicide by shame and mockery, I see definite flaws in your plan, Ross”. And now apparently Ryan’s brain-to-mouth filter has given up too. He starts to pull away, but Brendon’s grip puts a stop to that.
“Hey, hey no. That’s not what I’m gonna say Ryan. Well I mean, it is. This is pretty much the biggest mistake either of us could make. And the fact that we’d be making it together? Yeah. Disaster of epic proportions”.
Ryan nods, consoling himself with the knowledge that at least at he got to have what he wanted just this once, before it got taken away.
“That’s why I was so forceful about this Ryan. It’s a big deal, and I wanted to make sure that you were sure. I thought maybe if I couldn’t scare you off, it’d mean you were really serious about this”.
“Serious about this!? Brendon. You’ve almost made me come in my pants onstage in front of thousands of people at least 3 times in the last 10 days. I scalded myself with hot tea when you did that impromptu first aid demonstration with Spencer and your tongue yesterday. And I didn’t even notice until Jon pointed out that my skin was blistering. If public humiliation and 3rd degree burns aren’t serious, then I don’t know what is”.
Brendon laughs and ducks his head against Ryan’s shoulder, the vibrations making Ryan’s skin prickle.
“Well, I’m not gonna pretend that it wasn’t fun to mess with your head too. But I’m not playing anymore. I’m in, Ross. Your ass is mine now”.
Ryan’s heart leaps into his throat, where it is quickly met by Brendon’s tongue. He pulls away to grin, but has to make sure once and for all.
“Are you serious about this Brendon? I mean, are you sure?”.
Brendon rolls them over, pulling Ryan on top of him and sliding his hands back down to cup Ryan’s ass.
“Oh yes, I’m definitely keeping this”.
“That’s not what I meant, fucker. And jesus. Like you of all people need more ass than you were born with”.
Brendon laughs again and Ryan sets about shutting him up again. It takes roughly 26 minutes and an immeasurable amount of tongue, but knowing that they’ve got all the time in the world and the combined stamina of a 16 year old makes Round II all the more gratifying.
Not to mention fucking hot.
End.