A Slippery Road to Hell
Title: a slippery road to hell
Author: heavyhart
Rating: NC-17 (warning: watersports)
Pairing: Brendon/always-a-girl!Ryan
Summary: Ryan has trouble holding it together in the van.
Notes: 2,642 words. Written for anon_lovefest
Spencer falls asleep up front and Brendon wanders to the back of the van, tired of trying to talk to Brent while he's stuck with driving duty, when Brent would obviously rather blast some kind of awful metal music on the radio. Brendon has no idea how Spencer can sleep through it, but there are a lot of things Brendon doesn't quite understand about Spencer. Not yet, anyway.
Brendon sneaks to the "party area" in the back of the van, which is really just trunk-space. But "party area" sounds more rock star when he explains it to people.
"Ryan?"
Ryan's sitting cross-legged, holding a blanket over her shoulders and a book in her lap, but her face looks tense when Brendon sits down next to her.
"What's up?" Brendon asks softly, and Ryan lets the blanket slide off her shoulders. She's just wearing a tank-top and shorts, because the band lost AC about two seconds after turning the van on, and right now they're making their way through the desert, from Vegas to California.
Brendon can see the way Ryan bites at her lip even though her dark hair has fallen over her face. She doesn't answer for a second, and Brendon thinks she isn't going to, but then she asks, "How much longer 'til civilization?"
"Um, about three hours? Why?"
Ryan groans, leaning back against the seat and squeezing her eyes shut. "Fuck. Fuck."
Brendon's never been good at reading Ryan, but right now she's vibrating with frustration and it doesn't take a genius to figure that out.
"Are you okay? Is it--are you, like, sick? Or is it your--"
"Don't even finish that," Ryan snaps, and then she opens her eyes and looks apologetically at Brendon, face still tight. "It's not my period. It's." Ryan snorts out a laugh, bringing her knees up to her chest and wrapping her arms around her legs, making herself look younger than she normally does--much younger than 18, anyway. "I really have to pee."
Brendon blinks. "What?"
"I have to piss, Brendon, because I'm an idiot and didn't go before we left. And already it's been really hard to hold it and, fuck, three hours." Ryan leans her chin forward and bites at the skin of her arm, her body shuddering. "This is going to be the worst car ride ever. Is Brent driving the whole way?"
Brendon nods, moving closer to Ryan so he can put his arm around her shoulders. It doesn't make her any less tense, but it's the only way he knows how to comfort her. "Hey, it's. There are places to stop if you need to. I'm sure we can stop somewhere. I mean, you can't exactly piss in a coke bottle." Brendon laughs, just a little, but he catches Ryan's look and winces.
"Or. You could try?"
"Oh, fuck off," Ryan grumbles, sinking her teeth back into her arm. They hit a bump in the road that startles both of them, and Ryan moans, squirming out of Brendon's arms so she can curl up on her side, on the floor of the van, her legs squeezed tightly together.
"Ry, hey--" Brendon starts, but Ryan cuts him off.
"Could you please just go and stop making this a hundred times more embarrassing for me? Please?" Ryan's hair is falling out of her ponytail, messy and soft, and her legs are long and pale and she looks vulnerable and beautiful in a way she usually doesn't let herself be, in a way that she never lets anyone see. Brendon swallows, moving closer to her even when she glares at him.
"I said--"
"Yeah, I know," Brendon says, lying down so he can spoon up behind Ryan, pulling her back to his chest.
"Brendon--"
"Stop thinking about it," Brendon mumbles into her hair. She smells like vanilla and skin and he wants to kiss her neck to see if she tastes like both, but instead he just keeps his arms around her, his hands resting on her flat stomach, her shirt rucked up just a little bit. It's hard not to move his hands up and feel her soft skin, or up higher and feel the small curves of her breasts, her peaked nipples. Brendon loves having her in his arms, loves the way she slumps back against him in defeat. He's just surprised she isn't pushing him away right now.
"Do you think you can wait that long?" Brendon asks quietly. There's really no need to be quiet--Brent's music is still really loud--but when he breathes softly into her ear she shivers, her stomach muscles twitching underneath his hands.
"It hurts," Ryan moans, leaning back into Brendon. "It's so much, so full, fuck, Brendon."
Brendon slides his hand down, resting it over the warm swell of Ryan's lower stomach. There's a bump there, just the slightest curve, and he figures that must be where her bladder is. Ryan shudders again, rocking back and forth in Brendon's arms, squeezing her thighs together tightly in desperation. "Oh god."
"Would it be better if I got you off?" Brendon says quickly, adding the slightest bit of pressure to the swell of her lower belly, and Ryan gasps, loud and sharp.
"God, Brendon, don't! I." Ryan takes deep, shaky breaths. "I'd piss all over you, I'm not kidding. I can't help it."
Brendon tries not to get excited, but he's already hard against her ass and she has to feel it, if she can feel anything right now beyond her own need for relief.
"I have an idea," Brendon says suddenly, sitting up and reaching for a couple of the towels from the corner of the van. He folds one a couple of times and lays it on the floor, then another one, and he keeps the third towel in his hand. "Ryan, sit up."
"What? No, that'll make it worse. What the hell are you doing?" she hisses, but Brendon's already trying to pull her up into a sitting position. Ryan eventually complies, kneeling with her thighs still pressed together, and then Brendon pretends he isn't blushing when he says, "Okay, now sit on the towels and spread your legs."
Ryan goes still, her eyes wide. "What the actual fuck?"
"This is the only way to go without stopping the car," Brendon says, as if he's not asking her to piss on some towels in front of him. "The towels should catch most of it, they're really thick. C'mere, lean back against me."
Ryan shakes her head, her hair sticking to her forehead where she's starting to sweat from the way her stomach muscles are straining so hard. "You're insane. And disgusting. Brendon, I can't."
Brendon reaches forward slowly, rubbing at Ryan's lower stomach until she gasps and jerks back, thighs squeezing hard.
"You'll feel so much better, Ryan, and it's not like I'm going to tell anyone."
Ryan keeps shaking her head, but then the van hits another large bump in the road and Ryan gasps, her hands going to the front of her shorts to push desperately at her crotch, trying to stop her muscles from letting go, her dignity long gone. "Oh god."
"If you want, I can find you a bottle," Brendon tries, and that at least gets Ryan to choke out a laugh. Brendon can see the way she has tears clinging to the corners of her eyes, though, when she finally gets up and turns around so her back is to him, moving until the towels are underneath her.
"You're sure this--"
"Shh, don't worry," Brendon says, trying not to sound excited, knowing that he has no right to be, not at Ryan's discomfort and desperation.
Brendon is about to set the towel in front of Ryan when she suddenly lifts her hips up, pulling her shorts and underwear off quickly, sliding them down her legs and tossing them aside. Heat twists low in Brendon's stomach when Ryan settles back against him, huffing out a quick breath.
"It's just--look, I know, but if you tell anyone--"
Ryan's voice is shaking and Brendon rests his hand on her hip, stroking her side in what he hopes is a soothing gesture (he tries to ignore all the new skin on display, the bare curve of her ass right in front of him).
"Okay, so. Do I just--?"
Brendon takes a deep breath, resting his chin on Ryan's shoulder. "Promise not to punch me?"
"Considering I'm not punching you now and you can see my--yeah, okay."
Brendon flushes because he maybe did sneak a glance at her naked skin, but he takes that as permission, bringing the towel in his hand in front of Ryan, holding it above her thighs, still pressed tightly together.
Brendon slides his hand down to Ryan's thigh, fingers just pressing at her skin. "Spread for me?" he says close to her ear, and she shudders back against him.
"If I do, I'm going to--"
"Ryan, that's kind of the point."
Ryan nods once, briefly, and when Brendon slides his hand over to her lower belly he can feel the way her muscles are tight, holding back as she parts her legs.
"Okay, okay, no punching," Brendon mumbles quickly, licking his lips and using his other hand to hold the towel in front of her, between her legs, pressing it up to her cunt.
Ryan gasps, startled at the contact, her hips jerking forward. Brendon waits ten seconds, then waits ten more, but Ryan's still tense, holding back.
"What are you waiting for?"
He can almost feel how fast Ryan's pulse races, his face pressed into her neck, breath hot on her skin. "Ryan?"
"I don't know if I can do this," she whines, eyes closed tightly. Brendon knows how much she needs to go, though, how much it's making her ache by holding back. "Brendon, I can't just--"
"Let go, Ry," Brendon whispers, and it takes a moment, but when Ryan finally slumps back in defeat and does what Brendon says, she lets go with a moan, low and breathless, her hips tilted forward against the towel Brendon's holding to her.
Brendon can tell when she starts to piss, can feel the way her muscles twitch (and just the sounds Ryan makes when Brendon rubs his hand over the swell of her bladder, the way she moans like she's completely gone, lost in the relief), but it takes a few seconds for her stream to build and actually soak through the first towel, Brendon's hand getting damp where he holds it between her legs.
"Oh god, oh god," Ryan gasps, leaning back into Brendon's chest as she keeps pissing, her hips twisting restlessly. She's careful not to spill anywhere but the towels underneath her (Brendon sneaks a glance at the hot liquid leaking down between her pale thighs, over his own hand, and he bites back a groan), but she still tries grinding into the towel that Brendon holds to her.
The towel is thoroughly soaked through, dripping down onto the other towels on the floor between Ryan's legs, but Ryan hasn't stopped pissing yet. She breathes in quick, ragged breaths and spreads her legs farther apart. Brendon keeps the towel where it is, pressed to Ryan's cunt still, letting her push against it as her stream finally begins to die down.
"Holy fuck," Ryan swears, hands clenched into fists at her sides.
Brendon swallows, his cock throbbing in his pants. "Are you--"
"I-I'm done, yeah." Ryan huffs out a shaky laugh as Brendon puts the soaked towel on the other towels, wiping his hand against a dry part at the edge of one.
"See? Don't you feel better?" Brendon asks with a grin, and Ryan tilts her head back onto Brendon's shoulder and laughs harder. She still sounds nervous and embarrassed, her cheeks flushed a pretty shade of pink, but at least she's laughing.
Brendon reaches back for another towel without moving from behind Ryan, grabbing one and turning back to hook his chin over Ryan's shoulder. He brushes the dry towel over her skin, starting with her legs, cleaning her up.
"Bren," Ryan says in a soft voice, and Brendon kisses her cheek.
"Just helping out." Brendon moves the towel high up on her legs, swiping between the sensitive skin of her inner thighs. When he reaches the apex of her thighs, Ryan spreads her legs just a little wider, eyes closed and lips parted slightly when Brendon happens to steal a glance at her face.
Brendon swallows nervously, dropping the towel. If she tells him to stop, he will. But it's not like he missed the way Ryan was bearing down against the towel he had pressed to her, rocking her hips into it with short, sharp movements, and Brendon takes a chance and brushes his fingers over Ryan's wet cunt.
It's the lightest of touches, but Ryan gasps and her hips jerk, her hands reaching back to grab Brendon's thighs on either side of her for support.
Ryan doesn't say anything and Brendon feels around her folds, listening to her breathing as a guide where he should touch. The thing is, Brendon's never actually had sex of any kind before, so beyond the fact that he knows that Ryan has a clit and he's supposed to find it, Brendon is flying blind.
"Ryan...," Brendon starts, his voice half-pleading, and Ryan snorts.
"There was a mood," Ryan says, grabbing Brendon's fingers and pressing them higher up than Brendon would have thought to press them, but the way she shudders and tilts her head back tells Brendon that it's what she wants. Her voice is still breathless when she continues, "There was a mood, and you, ah, killed it."
"Mmhmm," Brendon agrees, focusing on the steady rhythm of rubbing over that little, wet bump that completely undoes Ryan. She turns her face into his shoulder, breathing hard against his shirt and working her hips up with his fingers. She's still wet between her legs and only getting wetter, but that just makes it easier when she asks for Brendon's fingers, grabbing his hand again and pressing the tip of his finger where she's aching and open for him.
Brendon slowly sinks his finger in, his other hand still working over her clit, and Ryan gasps and clenches around his finger, says, "God, Brendon, yes."
Brendon smiles into her hair and pushes in deeper, his cock throbbing just to feel her hot and tight around him, drawing him in. He pulls back and adds another finger, slowly working the two inside her, and Ryan briefly taps her fingers over his where he's rubbing her clit, begging, "H-harder, please."
Brendon rubs harder, using the pad of his thumb to brush back and forth over her clit before adding his forefinger, and as he's pumping his fingers in and out of her he can feel her start to come, moaning his name when her whole body goes tight around him, hips moving desperately up with his fingers to make her orgasm last as long as it can.
Brendon's still rubbing, slower, when Ryan grabs his fingers and says, "Too much, fuck, Bren." Brendon's fingers are wet and sticky and his cock is pushing insistently at her ass, but all Brendon can think about is the way Ryan tastes when she turns in his arms and kisses him, whispering, "Thank you."
Brendon nods dumbly and she kisses him again, pulling back suddenly and laughing.
"Holy shit, I forgot. You've been hard this whole time, and I just. Do you want a turn, now?" Ryan finally asks, biting her lip. Brendon nods again, more fervently, and as Ryan moves to undo his jeans, Brendon's grateful for long drives in their crappy van.
Author: heavyhart
Rating: NC-17 (warning: watersports)
Pairing: Brendon/always-a-girl!Ryan
Summary: Ryan has trouble holding it together in the van.
Notes: 2,642 words. Written for anon_lovefest
Spencer falls asleep up front and Brendon wanders to the back of the van, tired of trying to talk to Brent while he's stuck with driving duty, when Brent would obviously rather blast some kind of awful metal music on the radio. Brendon has no idea how Spencer can sleep through it, but there are a lot of things Brendon doesn't quite understand about Spencer. Not yet, anyway.
Brendon sneaks to the "party area" in the back of the van, which is really just trunk-space. But "party area" sounds more rock star when he explains it to people.
"Ryan?"
Ryan's sitting cross-legged, holding a blanket over her shoulders and a book in her lap, but her face looks tense when Brendon sits down next to her.
"What's up?" Brendon asks softly, and Ryan lets the blanket slide off her shoulders. She's just wearing a tank-top and shorts, because the band lost AC about two seconds after turning the van on, and right now they're making their way through the desert, from Vegas to California.
Brendon can see the way Ryan bites at her lip even though her dark hair has fallen over her face. She doesn't answer for a second, and Brendon thinks she isn't going to, but then she asks, "How much longer 'til civilization?"
"Um, about three hours? Why?"
Ryan groans, leaning back against the seat and squeezing her eyes shut. "Fuck. Fuck."
Brendon's never been good at reading Ryan, but right now she's vibrating with frustration and it doesn't take a genius to figure that out.
"Are you okay? Is it--are you, like, sick? Or is it your--"
"Don't even finish that," Ryan snaps, and then she opens her eyes and looks apologetically at Brendon, face still tight. "It's not my period. It's." Ryan snorts out a laugh, bringing her knees up to her chest and wrapping her arms around her legs, making herself look younger than she normally does--much younger than 18, anyway. "I really have to pee."
Brendon blinks. "What?"
"I have to piss, Brendon, because I'm an idiot and didn't go before we left. And already it's been really hard to hold it and, fuck, three hours." Ryan leans her chin forward and bites at the skin of her arm, her body shuddering. "This is going to be the worst car ride ever. Is Brent driving the whole way?"
Brendon nods, moving closer to Ryan so he can put his arm around her shoulders. It doesn't make her any less tense, but it's the only way he knows how to comfort her. "Hey, it's. There are places to stop if you need to. I'm sure we can stop somewhere. I mean, you can't exactly piss in a coke bottle." Brendon laughs, just a little, but he catches Ryan's look and winces.
"Or. You could try?"
"Oh, fuck off," Ryan grumbles, sinking her teeth back into her arm. They hit a bump in the road that startles both of them, and Ryan moans, squirming out of Brendon's arms so she can curl up on her side, on the floor of the van, her legs squeezed tightly together.
"Ry, hey--" Brendon starts, but Ryan cuts him off.
"Could you please just go and stop making this a hundred times more embarrassing for me? Please?" Ryan's hair is falling out of her ponytail, messy and soft, and her legs are long and pale and she looks vulnerable and beautiful in a way she usually doesn't let herself be, in a way that she never lets anyone see. Brendon swallows, moving closer to her even when she glares at him.
"I said--"
"Yeah, I know," Brendon says, lying down so he can spoon up behind Ryan, pulling her back to his chest.
"Brendon--"
"Stop thinking about it," Brendon mumbles into her hair. She smells like vanilla and skin and he wants to kiss her neck to see if she tastes like both, but instead he just keeps his arms around her, his hands resting on her flat stomach, her shirt rucked up just a little bit. It's hard not to move his hands up and feel her soft skin, or up higher and feel the small curves of her breasts, her peaked nipples. Brendon loves having her in his arms, loves the way she slumps back against him in defeat. He's just surprised she isn't pushing him away right now.
"Do you think you can wait that long?" Brendon asks quietly. There's really no need to be quiet--Brent's music is still really loud--but when he breathes softly into her ear she shivers, her stomach muscles twitching underneath his hands.
"It hurts," Ryan moans, leaning back into Brendon. "It's so much, so full, fuck, Brendon."
Brendon slides his hand down, resting it over the warm swell of Ryan's lower stomach. There's a bump there, just the slightest curve, and he figures that must be where her bladder is. Ryan shudders again, rocking back and forth in Brendon's arms, squeezing her thighs together tightly in desperation. "Oh god."
"Would it be better if I got you off?" Brendon says quickly, adding the slightest bit of pressure to the swell of her lower belly, and Ryan gasps, loud and sharp.
"God, Brendon, don't! I." Ryan takes deep, shaky breaths. "I'd piss all over you, I'm not kidding. I can't help it."
Brendon tries not to get excited, but he's already hard against her ass and she has to feel it, if she can feel anything right now beyond her own need for relief.
"I have an idea," Brendon says suddenly, sitting up and reaching for a couple of the towels from the corner of the van. He folds one a couple of times and lays it on the floor, then another one, and he keeps the third towel in his hand. "Ryan, sit up."
"What? No, that'll make it worse. What the hell are you doing?" she hisses, but Brendon's already trying to pull her up into a sitting position. Ryan eventually complies, kneeling with her thighs still pressed together, and then Brendon pretends he isn't blushing when he says, "Okay, now sit on the towels and spread your legs."
Ryan goes still, her eyes wide. "What the actual fuck?"
"This is the only way to go without stopping the car," Brendon says, as if he's not asking her to piss on some towels in front of him. "The towels should catch most of it, they're really thick. C'mere, lean back against me."
Ryan shakes her head, her hair sticking to her forehead where she's starting to sweat from the way her stomach muscles are straining so hard. "You're insane. And disgusting. Brendon, I can't."
Brendon reaches forward slowly, rubbing at Ryan's lower stomach until she gasps and jerks back, thighs squeezing hard.
"You'll feel so much better, Ryan, and it's not like I'm going to tell anyone."
Ryan keeps shaking her head, but then the van hits another large bump in the road and Ryan gasps, her hands going to the front of her shorts to push desperately at her crotch, trying to stop her muscles from letting go, her dignity long gone. "Oh god."
"If you want, I can find you a bottle," Brendon tries, and that at least gets Ryan to choke out a laugh. Brendon can see the way she has tears clinging to the corners of her eyes, though, when she finally gets up and turns around so her back is to him, moving until the towels are underneath her.
"You're sure this--"
"Shh, don't worry," Brendon says, trying not to sound excited, knowing that he has no right to be, not at Ryan's discomfort and desperation.
Brendon is about to set the towel in front of Ryan when she suddenly lifts her hips up, pulling her shorts and underwear off quickly, sliding them down her legs and tossing them aside. Heat twists low in Brendon's stomach when Ryan settles back against him, huffing out a quick breath.
"It's just--look, I know, but if you tell anyone--"
Ryan's voice is shaking and Brendon rests his hand on her hip, stroking her side in what he hopes is a soothing gesture (he tries to ignore all the new skin on display, the bare curve of her ass right in front of him).
"Okay, so. Do I just--?"
Brendon takes a deep breath, resting his chin on Ryan's shoulder. "Promise not to punch me?"
"Considering I'm not punching you now and you can see my--yeah, okay."
Brendon flushes because he maybe did sneak a glance at her naked skin, but he takes that as permission, bringing the towel in his hand in front of Ryan, holding it above her thighs, still pressed tightly together.
Brendon slides his hand down to Ryan's thigh, fingers just pressing at her skin. "Spread for me?" he says close to her ear, and she shudders back against him.
"If I do, I'm going to--"
"Ryan, that's kind of the point."
Ryan nods once, briefly, and when Brendon slides his hand over to her lower belly he can feel the way her muscles are tight, holding back as she parts her legs.
"Okay, okay, no punching," Brendon mumbles quickly, licking his lips and using his other hand to hold the towel in front of her, between her legs, pressing it up to her cunt.
Ryan gasps, startled at the contact, her hips jerking forward. Brendon waits ten seconds, then waits ten more, but Ryan's still tense, holding back.
"What are you waiting for?"
He can almost feel how fast Ryan's pulse races, his face pressed into her neck, breath hot on her skin. "Ryan?"
"I don't know if I can do this," she whines, eyes closed tightly. Brendon knows how much she needs to go, though, how much it's making her ache by holding back. "Brendon, I can't just--"
"Let go, Ry," Brendon whispers, and it takes a moment, but when Ryan finally slumps back in defeat and does what Brendon says, she lets go with a moan, low and breathless, her hips tilted forward against the towel Brendon's holding to her.
Brendon can tell when she starts to piss, can feel the way her muscles twitch (and just the sounds Ryan makes when Brendon rubs his hand over the swell of her bladder, the way she moans like she's completely gone, lost in the relief), but it takes a few seconds for her stream to build and actually soak through the first towel, Brendon's hand getting damp where he holds it between her legs.
"Oh god, oh god," Ryan gasps, leaning back into Brendon's chest as she keeps pissing, her hips twisting restlessly. She's careful not to spill anywhere but the towels underneath her (Brendon sneaks a glance at the hot liquid leaking down between her pale thighs, over his own hand, and he bites back a groan), but she still tries grinding into the towel that Brendon holds to her.
The towel is thoroughly soaked through, dripping down onto the other towels on the floor between Ryan's legs, but Ryan hasn't stopped pissing yet. She breathes in quick, ragged breaths and spreads her legs farther apart. Brendon keeps the towel where it is, pressed to Ryan's cunt still, letting her push against it as her stream finally begins to die down.
"Holy fuck," Ryan swears, hands clenched into fists at her sides.
Brendon swallows, his cock throbbing in his pants. "Are you--"
"I-I'm done, yeah." Ryan huffs out a shaky laugh as Brendon puts the soaked towel on the other towels, wiping his hand against a dry part at the edge of one.
"See? Don't you feel better?" Brendon asks with a grin, and Ryan tilts her head back onto Brendon's shoulder and laughs harder. She still sounds nervous and embarrassed, her cheeks flushed a pretty shade of pink, but at least she's laughing.
Brendon reaches back for another towel without moving from behind Ryan, grabbing one and turning back to hook his chin over Ryan's shoulder. He brushes the dry towel over her skin, starting with her legs, cleaning her up.
"Bren," Ryan says in a soft voice, and Brendon kisses her cheek.
"Just helping out." Brendon moves the towel high up on her legs, swiping between the sensitive skin of her inner thighs. When he reaches the apex of her thighs, Ryan spreads her legs just a little wider, eyes closed and lips parted slightly when Brendon happens to steal a glance at her face.
Brendon swallows nervously, dropping the towel. If she tells him to stop, he will. But it's not like he missed the way Ryan was bearing down against the towel he had pressed to her, rocking her hips into it with short, sharp movements, and Brendon takes a chance and brushes his fingers over Ryan's wet cunt.
It's the lightest of touches, but Ryan gasps and her hips jerk, her hands reaching back to grab Brendon's thighs on either side of her for support.
Ryan doesn't say anything and Brendon feels around her folds, listening to her breathing as a guide where he should touch. The thing is, Brendon's never actually had sex of any kind before, so beyond the fact that he knows that Ryan has a clit and he's supposed to find it, Brendon is flying blind.
"Ryan...," Brendon starts, his voice half-pleading, and Ryan snorts.
"There was a mood," Ryan says, grabbing Brendon's fingers and pressing them higher up than Brendon would have thought to press them, but the way she shudders and tilts her head back tells Brendon that it's what she wants. Her voice is still breathless when she continues, "There was a mood, and you, ah, killed it."
"Mmhmm," Brendon agrees, focusing on the steady rhythm of rubbing over that little, wet bump that completely undoes Ryan. She turns her face into his shoulder, breathing hard against his shirt and working her hips up with his fingers. She's still wet between her legs and only getting wetter, but that just makes it easier when she asks for Brendon's fingers, grabbing his hand again and pressing the tip of his finger where she's aching and open for him.
Brendon slowly sinks his finger in, his other hand still working over her clit, and Ryan gasps and clenches around his finger, says, "God, Brendon, yes."
Brendon smiles into her hair and pushes in deeper, his cock throbbing just to feel her hot and tight around him, drawing him in. He pulls back and adds another finger, slowly working the two inside her, and Ryan briefly taps her fingers over his where he's rubbing her clit, begging, "H-harder, please."
Brendon rubs harder, using the pad of his thumb to brush back and forth over her clit before adding his forefinger, and as he's pumping his fingers in and out of her he can feel her start to come, moaning his name when her whole body goes tight around him, hips moving desperately up with his fingers to make her orgasm last as long as it can.
Brendon's still rubbing, slower, when Ryan grabs his fingers and says, "Too much, fuck, Bren." Brendon's fingers are wet and sticky and his cock is pushing insistently at her ass, but all Brendon can think about is the way Ryan tastes when she turns in his arms and kisses him, whispering, "Thank you."
Brendon nods dumbly and she kisses him again, pulling back suddenly and laughing.
"Holy shit, I forgot. You've been hard this whole time, and I just. Do you want a turn, now?" Ryan finally asks, biting her lip. Brendon nods again, more fervently, and as Ryan moves to undo his jeans, Brendon's grateful for long drives in their crappy van.