Fic: All We Fear is All that Can Save Us [2/3]

[hidingoutside]

The problem is he can't stop thinking about it, the way Ryan looked when he was begging him, his mouth bitten red. He jerks off enough to the memory that he's starting to feel guilty about neglecting everything else in his spank bank, even the memory of having a sub whose skirt wasn't short or anything, but when he stopped to ask her a question after class, she turned away from him and he could see the plunge of her bra through a gape in her shirt, shell-pink against the smooth skin of her breasts.

He was fifteen, and that was way, way more than enough, but when he tries to think about her now, she turns into Ryan and the bra is a soft baby doll night gown, his cock pressing against the matching panties, and he's sucking Brendon's cock.

It's a great image, and it has him coming way quicker than he imagined possible, but he just feels dirty for thinking about Ryan like that. He didn't think he had a thing for guys in lady clothes, and he's pretty sure that if he saw Ryan that outfit for real, he wouldn't stop laughing, but in his head, Ryan has that same dark, open look, open and trusting and waiting.

That's what's getting Brendon off, and he's pretty sure Ryan didn't mean to show himself like that, and Brendon's getting off on a secret part of Ryan that he isn't supposed to know about.

Brendon wipes his hand on some tissues and rolls off of the bed. It's after noon, and he's pretty sure that Spencer's going to come looking for him soon. Or at least Bogart is going to come looking for one of them soon in a demand to play fetch or run around outside.

He pulls on a pair of old sweats and debates a t-shirt. It's starting to get cool, sort of, but it feels like way too much work to put on a shirt before he's gotten a shower, so he decides to go without, walking down into the main part of the house.

Spencer's already up, or at least he's out of bed and sprawled on the couch. "Morning," he mumbles. He has the television turned to some episode of Law and Order that they've probably seen a half-dozen times without meaning to.

"Hey," he says. He sits on the arm of the couch. "What's up for today?"

"Sleep. Then practice, probably with intervals of you sneaking out to try and secretly whack it." Spencer cracks a grin from his place on the couch and Brendon whips a pillow at him.

"Fuck off, dude," he says. He's not blushing, not really. It's been two weeks since he did the scene with Ryan. He hasn't turned into some creepy chronic masturbator or anything.

Spencer throws the pillow back. "Then try to remember to close your fucking door. I went to get Bogart yesterday morning, and I could hear you in there."

Brendon's pretty glad that years on a bus have taught him that you don't ever, ever say the name of your fantasy person. He made that mistake one time, and suddenly the entire band was bending over backwards to get him and Darren to hang out together and giving lots of helpful popsicle suggestions.

"Stop being a creep and listening, perv," Brendon shoots back, but it's way too late. Spencer just laughs at him and rolls his eyes.

Brendon doesn't know why Spencer knowing how much he's been jerking off makes him feel jittery and on edge again, but it does, like now that Spencer's commented on how much he's been getting himself off, he can't help but think about someone else getting him off.

It's been two weeks since he had sex with anyone besides his right hand.

Brendon knows he can go out, and he wants to go out. Except that his brain is still stuck on Ryan, and it can't be Ryan, and it's all really fucked up in his head. He wants Ryan to go back to being an annoying asshole that he kind of loves because they had some awesome times together instead of the annoying asshole that looks fucking hot tied up and would be more than willing to let Brendon slap him around.

Spencer sits up, wrinkling his nose. "Okay, I don't want to know what you're thinking about, but you're going to stop thinking about it. I want to go get Mexican and we should hit up a rental place on the way home. There has to be at least one that has 99 cent sci-fi rentals for anything that's from before 1980."

He blinks. "You mean when you can see the puppeteer's hand moving the invading aliens."

"You know it," Spencer says brightly before he's up and calling for Bogart and the other dogs to come. Brendon takes it that this also means ice cream, three doggie cones.

"We're taking your car," he says before he goes upstairs to change into jeans.

***

Brendon lasts another three days before he decides that he wants to go to the club again. He doesn't want to hook up with Ryan again, but Ryan's kind of a good lure to get people to come and talk. He's pretty, at least, and pretty can go a long way.

There's something lurking in the back of his brain when he dials Ryan's number and leans against his dresser. He can't let himself put a finger to it, and he shakes it off as soon as it begins to take a name. Besides, there is a chance that Ryan won't answer. It could be early for him, barely past two.

Ryan answers though, and he's laughing when he picks up the phone. "Hey," he says, like he doesn't who it's Brendon on the other end.

Except that Brendon thinks for a moment that he does know, and he's earned that warmth somehow.

"Hi," he says, and his tone feels unsure. He hates feeling like he's sixteen again and fucking thrilled that Ryan is taking an interest in him. It's petty, but he's got more followers on Twitter. He should be past it.

Ryan's tone doesn't cool, but he becomes more careful. Brendon can hear him stepping away from the background guitars, probably moving out of the room. He doesn't ask why his ringtone has been changed, to something Jon won't recognize as Brendon. There's just--He can't think about it.

"I was thinking about going to the club tonight," Brendon whispers, as if there is someone else in the room with him. "And I was hoping that you would come with me."

"Oh," Ryan whispers. He sighs a little. "I wasn't planning on going out to a bar tonight." There's a hesitation in his tone. "We aren't going to talk about the last time, are we?"

Brendon wants to, desperately. He wants to ask why Ryan would let himself go that far, but he cannot force himself to do that, not like this. Not over the damned phone. "Not if you don't want to."

"Same club where we met?"

"I was thinking. Around eight?"

Ryan hesitates again. "Could you pick me up? Jon says that I've been driving on a flat tire, but I can't be sure."

Brendon shakes his head. "Jon will know my car."

"No, I'll say that I'm going out for a walk or something. He's from Chicago. I don't think he realizes that no one walks here. It's very cute."

Brendon isn't sure how he's going to have time to hook up like he wants if Ryan is getting a ride, and there's a bell ringing in his head somewhere. He says, "Yeah, okay. Around the corner at eight?"

He knows enough not to be there until at least quarter after.

***

Ryan's in a dark green v-neck when he slides into Brendon's passenger seat at nearly eight-thirty. They look like the same ones he wore that night, but it's more likely that they're just a brother to the other pair. Ryan rarely wears jeans.

He has a long beaded necklace around his neck that he takes off as he says, "Hello." He offers Brendon a quick half-smile as he hangs the necklace over the rear view mirror. "Jon and Alex are going to see a movie with a lot of explosions." He says it is if it leaves a bad taste in his mouth.

Brendon rolls his eyes as he gets the car into gear. The silence isn't strained, Ryan letting Brendon pick the music as he fusses with another necklace. "You are worse than a girlfriend, Ross, leaving your shit everywhere," Brendon says he begins to circle the club's city-block, trying to find a place to park.

"You sound like Spencer," he snaps, but Brendon can hear the smile in his tone. Brendon knows that being compared to Spencer is high-praise coming from Ryan, still after all this time and everything.

"There's worse people to sound like. Could sound like you," Brendon snaps back. He finds a parking space and slides into it at Ryan laughs.

"That would probably help with your new album," Ryan says, and he laughs a little.

Brendon can tell exactly when Ryan realizes what he says, just as he goes to open the door, and he just stumbles for a moment and says, "Sorry."

He pushes past Ryan and goes into the club, and he's surprised that Ryan follows him closely, saying, "No, really, Brendon. I'm sorry. I'm not--I know that that's not your favorite part." He's hunched in on himself a little, and the bar lights tint his hair.

Brendon stares at him, and when Ryan raises himself up and says, "I heart the new song. It's...not bad," he doesn't really hear him. He doesn't know how to feel about Ryan saying that (because he would say "Change" is...not bad, too) but he's too busy staring at the thick piece of leather wrapped around Ryan's pale neck.

"You're wearing a collar," he says, and his tongue feels thick in his mouth. "Ryan, you're--"

"It doesn't mean anything," Ryan says quickly. He touches it, like he needs to be reminded that it's there. "I wear it when I just want to come be around people and I don't want to be bothered. Most people here, they see it and think that I'm someone's."

Brendon wants to touch it. He's never collared anyone. He's never had a chance, because he thinks it's kind of serious. Maybe not like engagement ring serious, but serious enough that it's not for people he meets once or twice at a bar. He's had a few steady hookups, but still. He doesn't mean to, not really, but he reaches out at touches the soft skin of Ryan's neck, around the line of the collar.

Ryan doesn't mention it, smiling a little. He just shakes his head. "You guys are going to be okay," he says, and he smiles a little. "Spencer made me promise to buy three of your albums when you come out with another one. It was part of the 'let's be friends' thing."

Brendon knocks his shoulder against Ryan's. It hurts a little, to talk about this again. He's talked about it a hundred times it feels like, with Spencer, with Jon, Pete, Patrick, strangers, Ian, and now it's Ryan. "How many of your records are we buying?"

"Ten," Ryan says with an air of finality, and Brendon can see them debating it.

"Doesn't seem fair." Brendon brushes his fingers over the collar again and then makes himself shove his hands into his pockets. "You only bought three."

Ryan shakes his head. "I'll end up buying at least six, because I'm going to lose one of them and then I won't be able to prove it. And you have the fan club." He nods again. They're against the bar, and Brendon should angle himself out, so he can see his prospects, but he can't hear Ryan like that.

"Oh, right. The fanclub." Brendon wrinkles his nose a little before he sighs. He watches people look at Ryan, and then at Brendon, and while he's pretty sure that there's interest, no one comes up.

Ryan smiles a little. "And you get to go to all the cool places. Spence told me about how you guys are going to South America soon. That's really awesome." He's sincere when he says it, because he touches Brendon's arm, tapping a little on the inside of his wrist. "You know Jon and I would have loved do that with you."

"You could have," he whispers. It hurts to say, but he wasn't the one who made the choice. Spencer came home from a lunch meeting, and said, "We're a duo now."

Ryan sighs and he rubs his eyes. "Brendon, I miss you, and I miss seeing Spence all the fucking time, but I don't miss fighting with you guys. Did you want to make a third record with me?" He looks like a ghost in the dim bar light, his eyes dark shadows and face terribly pale. "Really?"

Brendon makes a face. Pretty. Odd. was better than Fever, but he can remember the cabin like it was a fucking week ago. He knows that's where they were headed, and they'd have a third album that he might not have loved and he would have had to get up and sing things that he might not have felt.

Ryan smiles a little, and he strokes Brendon's hair. "We always had a lot more fun touring than writing together." He wrinkles his nose. "Though I'd rather fight with you than Jon. Jon fights weird. He just sighs a lot and makes faces."

"Instead of telling you that you're a fucking control freak who needs to back off?" Brendon laughs a little, but Ryan nods eagerly, like he'd want Jon to do that. "You guys will be okay You're like... I don't know. Mind-melded."

Ryan shrugs and he rolls his shoulders. "I want a drink," he says, and he motions to where the bartender has gotten off to, at the other end of the bar. "You want anything?"

Brendon nods. "Sure. Get me whatever you're having or a beer if you know that I hate it." He grins and watches Ryan move along the bar. He's pretty sure that Ryan's black pants are actually a little tighter than normal, clinging to the rise of his ass.

He shakes that thought away and repositions himself to look out at the club. Most people don't meet his eye, and he doesn't really mind it too much. Eventually, a dark-haired woman catches his eye, smiling back at him when he smiles at her, and she comes over to the bar, taking Ryan's place.

"Hey," she says. Brendon's seen her before; they've hooked up once or maybe twice, when they were too trashed to properly scene but not too much to have lots of rough and almost angry sex. She has long nails that felt amazing against his back, and he had marks on his neck for a week.

"Hi," he says back, and he grins again. He's not smooth at picking people up alone, but she came to him, and she knows what he likes.

"I haven't seen you for a while," she says over the music, and she makes like she's smoothing Brendon's sleeve, so that she can leave her hand there. "I was beginning to think that I scared you off."

Brendon shrugs a little, letting his grin turn into a smirk. "I don't scare that easy," he says. He puts his hand over hers, stroking the skin of her wrist.

She laughs, tipping her head back so he can see the long line of her throat. Her shirt is low cut, her breasts pale and pushed forward, and Brendon kind of wants to see what she looks like naked again, when he knows that he'll be able to remember it better.

"We could probably get out of here, you know, find a place. I live pretty close." She tucks a strand of hair behind her ear.

Brendon wants to say yes. Hell, he is going to say yes, except that's when Ryan reappears, sliding beside Brendon so their shoulders were together. "Your beer, sir," he says, with his head bowed a little. When he looked up at the woman, he keeps his eyes downcast.

He looked at Ryan, and then at the woman. He felt panicked because this was why they came here. They were here for hooking up. He half turns to Ryan, managing to hiss, "Ry--" before the woman clears her throat.

She looks between them at the same time, and she steps back just a bit, taking her hand from Brendon's arm. "I'm Jane," she says, smoothly, and she offers her hand to Ryan.

Ryan shakes it. "I'm Ryan." He flicks his eyes up to her, and then back down.

"I'll be seeing you, Ryan. Brendon." She gives him a tight smile and begins to walk away.

Brendon spins around at Ryan. "What the fuck?" he snaps.

Ryan drops the act immediately, glaring up at Brendon. "What the fuck yourself?" He set Brendon's beer on the counter. He looks like he had a seabreeze for himself, but he didn't drink from it. "Why did you bring me here?"

"I thought you wouldn't mind coming out, since you don't mind the club." Brendon shifts. "I didn't know that you were going to be a cock-block."

Ryan's face clouds immediately. "I wasn't aware we were hear to pick up. I thought--" His pale skin turns pink for a moment and then he sets his drink down beside Brendon's. He turns his neck to the side, showing the collar off again. "You thought that I was coming here for shits and giggles?"

Brendon stares at Ryan again, and he can't ignore the way want flares along his skin. "Ryan," he says, and he doesn't know what he really wants to say. He babbles, "You said you didn't want to talk, and you wore the collar to stay away--"

"Not wanting to be hit on because..." Ryan shakes his head and steps away from the bar. "Fuck this. I'm going home."

Ryan takes the collar off in a smooth, practiced motion, shoving it into his pocket. He doesn't look back at Brendon, shoulders set up angry as he stomps into the crowd, towards the door. Brendon follows him.

He doesn't know what he's supposed to do, and he feels like an ass again, stumbling over himself. He's pissed that Ryan just fucking assumed that they would be doing something again, and he's pissed at himself for not realizing Ryan would think that. It just makes him more pissed at Ryan.

Brendon grabs Ryan's arms, pulling him around to talk to him. "Hey, Ryan--"

"Let me go," Ryan says, and there's something panicked in his tone, like he's almost ready to safeword because he doesn't know what Brendon's going to do.

Brendon does without hesitation. "Ryan, please." He follows Ryan out of the club, onto the street. "I'm sorry," he whispers. "It was stupid."

Ryan glares at Brendon, shoulders bunched up and hands shaking. He is chewing his lip. "You don't want me. It's okay--"

"I want you," Brendon says, and he carefully crowds himself against Ryan. "I want you, Ryan, but you didn't want to talk, and I thought it was weird--"

"I want you, and I don't want to talk," Ryan said, simply, like that should be enough.

Brendon looks at Ryan, and he doesn't know what he's feeling because it's just supposed to be sex. It's sex, and it's Ryan, and it's all really fucked up in his head. Mostly, though, it's Ryan glaring at him and making him feel like an ass, but at the same time, it's Ryan glaring at him and letting him know that he wants Brendon to beat the fuck out of him and maybe come over his face or his ass. Fuck, Ryan would let Brendon fuck him, probably. Maybe.

"Come home with me," he says, words tumbling out his mouth. "Come home with me, and I'll make this up to you."

Ryan freezes. "Is Spencer home?"

Brendon shakes his head. "No, he went to babysit for Pete. He and Ashlee are going to a party or something, and her mom has the flu. Spencer is flu-free and totally cool with hanging out with Bronx for the night. Which means no Spencer. Just me and the dogs."

"I'm not having sex with your dogs." Ryan wrinkles his nose. "Or around your dogs."

"Well, no. I can't afford doggie therapy for Bogart." Brendon shoves his hands into his pockets. "Let me take you home," he whispers into Ryan's ear. "I want to hurt you."

Ryan shivers a little, but he's smiling when he pulls back. "So that's how you're working out your issues with me," he says lightly.

Brendon shrugs. "You said it, not me."

***

Ryan's skin is hot to the touch, reddened from Brendon's hand. He's on his hands and knees, spread out in front of Brendon with his hands gripping the end of mattress as he counts off the smacks. His voice is cracking by the time as he reaches twelve, when they agreed on fifteen.

This is the second time they've gone, and Ryan's already wet from Brendon's tongue. When Brendon smacks him again, Ryan's voice trembling as he whispers, "Thirteen," Brendon eases back on his thighs to grab lotion from beside his bed. He rakes his short nails down the enflamed skin, to hear Ryan cry out. They're alone in the house, and he likes the way Ryan's voice echoes throughout the rooms.

"Louder," he says, before he spanks Ryan again, urging him through fourteen and fifteen, and then he breathes over Ryan's hot skin.

He likes the way that makes Ryan squirm, even when he's trying to be good and still. The anger and shame has bled away from Brendon by now, and he's perfectly centered on this, on the way Ryan groans when he pushes his fingers into him, two at once, and Ryan bucks against his hand.

"Do you like it?" he asks, shifting up onto his knees, so he can be closer to Ryan, pressing his lips to the curve of Ryan's ass, then pressing his teeth against the skin when Ryan doesn't answer readily.

"Yes," Ryan whispers, and Brendon twists his finger and pushing them up, deeper into Ryan.

"Louder," he says. He sucks another bruise above Ryan's ass, just above his hand marks. He can see the marks of his longer fingers. "Ryan, I want to be able to hear you."

He has a third finger teasing against Ryan's hole, almost ready to slide in, and Ryan is panting. His cock is hard, wet and shining at the tip, and Brendon hasn't touched it, not readily. His knuckles drag against his balls now, once or twice and almost by accident, and he debates pulling back, to start a third set. He wonders if Ryan could stand it. His skin is so red already, so hot against Brendon's hands and mouth.

"Yes," he says, and it's louder than he normal speaking voice, almost a shout. "I like it. More," he begs, and he rocks his hips back, like he can force the third finger inside just like that.

Brendon breathes against the hot skin again, like he can cool it. "Could you come like this?" He doesn't think that anyone could, with their cock barely touched, but he teases with the third finger, tracing where Ryan's skin is stretched and wet. "If I give you the third finger, will it be enough to make you come?"

Ryan shivers again, and he whines, "I don't know. I want to try. Can I try?" Brendon doesn't have to see Ryan's face to know that he's under. He's been under since Brendon started to push his tongue against Ryan's hole, he thinks so at least. It makes him want to fuck Ryan, to feel his hot skin against Brendon's hips.

Brendon bites against the curve of Ryan's ass as he pushes in the third finger in, and Ryan doesn't disappoint, pushing his hips back as he keens. Brendon bites Ryan's skin again, harder, and he keeps twisting his fingers, keeps pushing Ryan closer. He starts to whisper, "Try, Ryan, try."

Ryan's body begins to shiver, and he's moaning, gripping so tight that the mattress is starting to creak. Brendon licks over Ryan's skin and then he bites hard, as the same time as he twists his fingers sharply, and that gets Ryan to rock back, to go stiff and come over Brendon's bed, on his own stomach, without being touched.

Brendon stares at him for a moment, before he pulls his fingers out of Ryan's body slowly, wiping them on the now-dirty sheets. "Ryan," he whispers, and he can't believe that Ryan was able to come like that, just from fingers and Brendon's mouth against his hot skin.

Ryan is quiet, letting Brendon push him onto his side and massage his hands. Brendon's cock is still throbbing, and he wants to come badly, but Ryan's fingers look tight and cramped and he wants to relieve that first.

Except that Ryan is staring at Brendon's cock, shifting on the bed as if he means to take Brendon's cock into his mouth. Brendon stops him though, because Ryan's skin looks damp, curls against his forehead and temples and his lips that same bitten-red shade. His flush is still down over his chest and his neck, and for a moment, Brendon remembers the collar, and he wishes that Ryan were still wearing it.

"Please," Ryan whispers, with his mouth almost at Brendon's cock. "Want to." His eyes look darker than before, open and waiting for Brendon to give him what he wants. "Want to taste you."

"Yeah," Brendon whispers, and he brushes his hand over Ryan's hair, pulling it back enough to see Ryan's mouth stretch. He's not really sucking Brendon off, not in a way that's going to make Brendon come any time soon, and he sucks in a breath before he pushes Ryan's hair back again. "Just open your mouth," he says, finally.

Ryan rolls his eyes up to look at Brendon again, and he does, shifting up enough that Brendon can fuck his face, his eyes closed and eyelashes painting shadows over his cheeks. He makes soft sounds as Brendon pushes himself into Ryan's mouth, deeper and deeper with his tongue running along the length of Brendon's cock.

He pulls out as he comes, so the second and third spurts across his mouth and cheek, staring at Brendon as Brendon rocks back on his thighs. Ryan doesn't move, just follows Brendon's movements with his eyes.

Brendon smiles and kisses Ryan's cheek, licking his own come away. "You look so slutty like this," he whispers, and Ryan freezes a little. Brendon closes his eyes when he realizes what he's done, but he doesn't apologize, turning Ryan's head to the side so he can kiss him again. "I'm going to run you a shower and get you some advil."

Ryan nods, and he lifts his head to kiss Brendon back. "Okay," he whispers, and he blinks slowly, like he's waking up after a long nap.

"Thank you," Brendon says, and he touches Ryan's hair again, like he's feverish instead of debauched.

"Thank you." Ryan shifts a little in bed. "Really."

Brendon keeps stroking over Ryan's hair. He knows there are things that he must do. He needs to take care of Ryan, since he took him apart, but Ryan doesn't seem to mind just yet. Ryan's eyes close, and he's smiling a little.

"Do you want to talk?" he asks softly. He can't stop touching Ryan's soft, sweat-damp hair and curling it around his fingers. Ryan looks so young like this, when he's drowsy from his orgasm and from their play. He doesn't push it.

Ryan sighs and shrugs. "I don't see what there is to talk about," he murmurs. He leans into Brendon's hand. "I trust you, and I know you, and it would make sense that I am more relaxed with you." He shrugs again and shifts.

He kisses Ryan's forehead before he stands up and goes to start the shower and to get Ryan's advil. There's a pit starting in his stomach, something about how Ryan seems to be able to trust Brendon that makes him sick and thrilled and rushed down his spine. He wants to throw up and run out all at the same time.

He settles for grabbing a beer on his way back to his bedroom with Ryan's medicine.

***

He's sure that neither of them mean to fall asleep, but Brendon's bed at home feels softer than a hotel room, and Ryan is always cold when he comes from a shower, wrapped up in fluffy towels before he dives under covers to warm up. Brendon meant to get a shower, but his bed was warm and Ryan warm beside him, and it was all too easy to push his face against Ryan's neck and sleep.

Bogart came in the night, neatly curling between them in the bed and keeping the blankets warm, and Brendon really would think it was nice, to wake up like this, even if it was Ryan beside him.

He would like it if not for Spencer knocking at the door a little after nine. "I'm back," he says through the door, and Brendon only has a moment to throw a blanket over Ryan's head, rolling close to make sure that all of Ryan is covered. His heart is beating too fast, and he doesn't know why he's bothering.

Except Spencer only cracks open the door, enough to see that Brendon is not alone and cries, "Oh, shit, sorry." He laughs a little as he closes the door. "Shit, I wanted to know if you wanted to go out to breakfast. I didn't know--"

Ryan goes stiff beside Brendon, breathing in sharply. He rolls over in bed to look at the door in horror, and then he dives off the bed, starting to dress himself, whispering, "Shit, shit, shit." His eyes are huge, fingers shaking as he begins to pull up his underwear over his skinny hips.

"Brendon?" Spencer asks, and Brendon grabs a pair of sweat pants. He goes to the door, dressing himself before he slips out of the door. He slides out of the room and hopes Spencer can't see Ryan.

"Sorry. I, um, you were out, and we didn't mean to." His face feels hot, and he's jittery. "And then, well, you know. After." He laughs a little to himself.

Spencer nods, and he wrinkles his nose a little. "Dude, you didn't need to come out here to tell me that you hooked up. Unless like that's Megan Fox in there. Or like Carrie Underwood. Then you need to tell me." Spencer reached out and tousled Brendon's hair. "But until that happens? No details and no apologies. I'm going to bed for a while, since you apparently had a one night stand change into morning after." Spencer laughed at him, his tongue tucked between his teeth as he went to his room.

For all Spencer's awesomeness, he's kind of a dick.

Brendon slides back into his room, and Ryan's standing there, mostly dressed. He's playing with the collar, wrapping it around his wrist over and over again. He looks out of place, strange in his v-neck and tighter pants. Brendon kind of wishes that Ryan was wearing one of his suits. He would look more like himself.

"Carrie Underwood?" Ryan asks, his eyebrows raised. "Seriously?"

Brendon rolls his eyes. "She's one of Spencer's top fives, not mine. He has a thing for chicks with baseball bats."

Ryan pushes his hand through his hair. "You should probably take me home, when he's asleep."

"Probably," Brendon says, and he can't stop watching Ryan play with the collar, the soft darkness of the leather wrapped around Ryan's pale skin and near his tattoos.

***

Brendon promises himself that he's not going to call Ryan again, not for at least a week, but his bed smells like him at home. Ryan's beads are still strung up around his rear-view mirror and he touches them when he gets in and out of his car, before he goes surfing and after, after he goes to the store. He keeps thinking about him, almost like he's obsessed.

He thinks to himself that it's only three weeks until he is going to South America with Spencer and Dallon and Ian. If he can avoid Ryan until then, avoid calling him or texting him, he might forget about this, about the collar and about the way Ryan fucking trusts him, and the way that this all shouldn't make sense to him at all. Except it kind of does, and he likes the way part of him aches to see Ryan again, just to see what he can do next.

What he doesn't expect is to come into his kitchen and see Spencer setting up a pan of hamburger patties with Ryan sitting beside him, his socked feet kicking lightly against the cabinet doors.

His hair is grimy from salt water, and his whole body feels salty. He's only wearing swim trunks, his wet suit and surfboard in the garage, and Ryan's wearing a suit, his jacket open and tie loose. He's laughing, teeth bared and hair curling around his eyes. Brendon's staring, he knows, and he can't stop it, not until Ryan looks up and visibly starts.

Brendon looks down, and Ryan's socks don't match. He bites down on a smile, because that shouldn't make him happy.

"Brendon," Ryan says, and he says his name all wrong. He almost sounds affectionate, and Spencer's going to know that something's off.

Spencer turns a little, and his grin is kind of sheepish. "I know I should have told you," he says, and he should have. He really fucking should have, because Brendon's heart is pounding and he doesn't know why.

He feels a little better to know that Ryan is staring at him, the way he does when he thinks he's being stealthy, just from the corner of his eye except he won't move at all. He's staring, and his lip is caught between his bottom teeth, and Brendon feels like a damned teenager because he thinks he ought to be able to at least touch Ryan. He feels too aware of him.

"You should have," he manages finally, and he looks at Ryan again. His shirt is pink and pale, and his tie is grey. His shirt draws Brendon's eyes to the hollow of his throat, the way the shadows there shift as Ryan swallows.

"Spencer invited Jon and me over. For burgers," he says, his eyes downcast.

"I though, that since we hadn't hung out in a while," Spencer says, and he bites his lip and then makes a face. "I know you guys are--"

"That we can't get along," Brendon says, and he stares at Ryan again. He can't stop staring, and he doesn't want to stop staring. He wants to step closer. He wants Spencer to go outside. He wants to pull Ryan forward with his tie and bite at his mouth, feel Ryan's fingers wrap around his shoulders. He wants to fuck Ryan against that counter, with Jon and Spencer in the yard playing with the dogs, when they might come in and see.

He closes his eyes, to block out the image and Ryan for just a moment.

"Look, I don't give a fuck if you and Ryan start a holy war, but I want to hang out with Jon, and you're both my fucking best friends." Spencer grabs the plate of burgers. "And Zack should be here in an hour, and we're going to have a great time. Or I'll kill you both, and you know that they'll help me bury the body."

He goes out into the yard then, and Ryan bows his head a little. "My mom was never around to make me feel two inches tall, but his mom was really good at it. I think he learned it from her."

Brendon glances out the door before he moves forward. He touches Ryan's tie. "He could give my mom a run for her money, but he has a better sense of humor."

Ryan grins. "No one's better than Spencer." He looks like a kid suddenly, and Brendon feels a little bit like a perv for what he does next, pulling Ryan in to kiss him.

But Ryan kisses back, at least for a moment. "You taste like ocean," he whispers, before he slides off the cabinet. They're almost chest to chest. "We can't let them know."

Brendon nods, but he kisses Ryan again, harder and more insistent until Ryan makes a soft noise in his throat. "Brendon," he whines when Brendon starts to pull back, except that Ryan keeps following him, kissing him harder.

He pushes Ryan back then, hard. He hears Jon's laugh in the yard, and Ryan doesn't even blink, going with it. His hands slide into Brendon's hair, pulling at it, and it feels so good, the pinpricks of pain against his skull. He rubs against Ryan's thigh, and Ryan bites his lip, harder, and Brendon groans into his mouth.

One of the dogs starts barking, and Spencer calls Ian's name. They're so not alone, and this is so not the place for this.

"What are you doing tonight?" he whispers, stepping back and watching Ryan set himself right again, straightening his tie and smoothing his coat.

"Jon and I are going to a club after this, unless he gets too drunk. And then I can drop him off at the house." Ryan's eyes are dark, and Brendon touches his hair, trying to get it back to how it was, carefully not styled at all and curled messily.

"We should maybe get more beer," Brendon says, and he grins at Ryan. "And then maybe we should hit the motel. Or the hotel we went to last week. Or the backseat of your car."

Ryan nods. "Same hotel," he whispers.

"I'm going to go get dressed and then grab more beer, and I'm going to check in on my way home. Go out there and look pissed." He kisses Ryan again, quick and chaste. "When you get Jon home, you should maybe get your cuffs."

"Yes," Ryan whispers, and then he takes a deep breath. He goes out to the yard still in his socked feet. He doesn't look settled, but Brendon hopes Spencer doesn't notice too much. If he does, he hopes that Spencer blames it on Brendon's presence.

***

Spencer buys it, and that night Brendon cuffs Ryan's wrists together and pushes him down against the bed. He sucks bruises inside Ryan's thighs, spanks him until he cries out. He doesn't bring a condom, but he manages to find more lotion, slicking the inside of Ryan's thighs and pushing his cock between them. Ryan's skin is hot against Brendon's, and his cock keeps stroking against Ryan's balls, their cocks together.

He teases Ryan, until Ryan is shaking and begging and babbling, until he isn't making sense, and they come together, mess over Ryan's stomach.

It doesn't stop there, even though it should. Brendon sees Ryan two or three times a night for those weeks, when he's coming down from practice, and each time Ryan lets himself go under for Brendon. He's good, following Brendon's lead. When Brendon asks him to crawl, if he really wants to come, he does without questioning or hesitating, across rough hotel carpet until he's between Brendon's spread thighs and swallows him down.

That memory keeps playing through his brain when he's on tour, and he almost calls Ryan once or twice to ask if he remembers. It's hard, though, Dallon and Ian around more now, and Spencer constantly there. He manages to send one email, just a quick home in six days ;), and Ryan sends back a :) can't wait.

On the second to last day of their tour, when they're so close to home that Brendon can practically feel it, he and Zack are out. They've just done an interview, and they're walking off lunch before they go back to the hotel and harass the guys. Except they pass a sex shop. Brendon wasn't even looking for it. It's Zack that laughs and points out the sign, how XXX and FINE EROTIC GOODS look skeevier somehow south of the border. There's Spanish on the windows, and Brendon can't read any of it.

"I need to pop in here real quick," he says, glancing at Zack. "You don't have to come in."

Zack makes a face before he says, "Yes, I do. But I'll stand by the door."

Brendon nods, and he doesn't look back to see if Zack's following him. He wanders around for a while, until he sees the floggers on display, over one of the counters on a little rack. Ryan's mentioned his flogger a few times, his own subtle way of asking Brendon to flog him (Why don't you ever use the flogger), but Brendon still doesn't like the way it feels.

He picks up one flogger and then another, using them each on the inside of his arm. The first few feel unbalanced in his hand, like he wouldn't be able to control how they struck Ryan, but there's another one, midsize with soft leather tails. They sting when they hit his skin, when he puts enough force behind it, but it's not as harsh and sharp as Ryan's flogger. It's red, too, a dark crimson that just makes him think of Ryan for some reason.

It's easy to imagine Ryan bending over and letting this strike him. Brendon has to bite his lip at the thought, until he imagines someone else flogging Ryan. That part makes his stomach twist, but he pushes that away. The first time Ryan uses it, he won't be with someone else. Brendon has no intention of not using it on their next meeting.

Brendon buys it, and Zack doesn't mention that he's spent the better part of a half hour hitting himself on the arms. It's quite possibly the nicest thing Zack's ever done for him.

***

When they get home, Ryan calls him after a day, even though there's barely any jetlag. South America is their time zone, but a day of sitting around on planes always makes him a little cagey. He needs a day to run around and just relax himself, and he's grateful that Ryan remembers that. He's off-center and ready for the call as soon as his feet touch LAX, though, the flogger in his checked luggage, wrapped in a gift bag wrapped in a towel, like someone might see it and become suspicious.

"Hi," Ryan says, and Brendon knows he's not quite smiling. "Was your trip good?"

"Would have been better if you were there," he says sincerely, even though he doesn't miss Ryan and Jon on stage beside him as keenly anymore. "Northern Downpour" sticks in his throat sometimes, still, and he'll never get used to seeing Ian's mop where Ryan used to be, but he's okay. He feels okay.

It's possible he just wanted Ryan and Jon there to hang out, like Shane used to do. Jon could take pictures and Ryan could read in the van and lean against Brendon's side. They could try to prank Zack and fail, miserably, because Ryan is the worst as keeping a straight face.

He misses traveling with Ryan and Jon more than he misses composing with them. If they said they wanted to come tour as some kind of limited venture or even to come on stage to play "Mad as Rabbits", Brendon knows he and Spencer would say yes without hesitation. But he knows it's too soon. It's probably too soon from them and too soon for the fans. It would feel like they lied about breaking up. Maybe.

Ryan laughs a little in the phone. "Yeah, well. We all made our choices."

Brendon bite his lip. "I want to see you tonight," he whispers. "Spence and Shane are definitely going to be here--"

"Eric's going over his girlfriend's, and Alex is going out to a party. I can fake the plague and stay home." Ryan's voice sounds almost eager, and that has Brendon grinning.

"All right." He walks into the kitchen and grabs a can of soda from the fridge, pulling a face at Spencer as he passes him. "So I'll see you at eight?"

He pretends not to notice the way Spencer raises his eyebrows when Ryan says, "Yeah. Eight sounds good."

Brendon flees the kitchen before Spencer can ask questions.

***

Brendon doesn't know what to expect when he brings out the flogger, setting it on the bed after he's told Ryan to strip. He's already down to his jeans, socks and shoes tossed aside when he came into the house--before Ryan started attacking his mouth. Ryan sees it as he's pulling off the oversized shirt and shorts he was wearing for pajamas, and he frowns.

"You bought a flogger?" he asks, and he picks it up, touching the soft leather straps.

"Yeah," Brendon says, and he keeps looking at Ryan. Ryan's hair is damp from the shower, curls looser.

"You're going to use this on me?" Ryan asks, shaking it a little. The straps wrap around his wrist.

He just nods, and he pats his hand against the bed. "Get up on the bed, Ryan."

Ryan frowns suddenly. "I already have a flogger," he says, confused.

Brendon shrugs. "Your flogger sucks."

He turns and glares at Brendon. "No one else ever complained."

Brendon licks his lips and he starts to say, "That's because nobody else ever cared--" But before he can say about you, he catches himself and swallows down the words. "You know what, it's not important. Shut up and get on the bed."

Ryan rolls his eyes and crawls up on his bed. Ryan has weird green and yellow striped sheets, and the comforter is pushed against the bed frame. "How do you want me?" he asks, and he lets Brendon move him around, so he's on his hands and knees with his head against his hands.

He runs his hands over Ryan's back and ass, with the flogger against his knees. "You always look so good like this, Ryan," he whispers, and he begins to hit over Ryan's ass with his bare hand, slowly warming up the skin before he starts with the flogger. He doesn't want to just start hitting him with the flogger, and he loves the way his handprints start to show on Ryan's skin at first.

But then he grab the flogger and begins hitting hard against Ryan's ass and lower thighs, and Ryan falls forward a little, crying out. "I want to hear you," Brendon says, and he hits Ryan again, watching the straps splay across Ryan's skin. "Be as loud as you can."

Ryan groans again, rocking back towards Brendon, and he shivers when Brendon hits him again, across the other cheek. It doesn't take long for his skin to turn angry red, warm when Brendon puts the flogger to the side for a moment just to touch.

That makes Ryan cry out and falls on his chest a little, and Brendon helps him go back up on his knees. He kisses the back of Ryan's neck before he moves up on the bed, kneeling closer to Ryan's back.

There's a hand towel next to the bed, and it's clean when Brendon sniffs it, before he wraps it carefully around Ryan's neck, to protect it. Then he brings the flogger down gently on Ryan's upper back, keeping hits above his mid-back. He doesn't want to hurt Ryan, not really. He just wants to watch Ryan shake and his skin turn hot, red. He wants Ryan to cry out and fall against the bed again, and this time Brendon lets him stay like that, reaching back to squeeze Ryan's ass, where the skin is still warm from the abuse.

"Fuck," Ryan whispers, and when his head turns to the side, Brendon can see how dark his eyes are. Brendon sets the flogger down and starts smacking Ryan's ass again, until he's sure that Ryan's going to shake himself apart and fall on the bed completely.

But that's almost what Brendon wants. He picks up the flogger again and moves back to Ryan's ass. It only takes three strikes for Ryan to slide onto his stomach, legs out straight. He's gasping and sweating on the bed, his forehead sticky from it.

"What do you want me to do," he asks Ryan, stroking his hair and sliding the towel away.

Ryan whimpers, "More," trying to reach for the towel again. His shoulders are an angry red, and he wobbles when he tries to get back onto his knees. "Please, more."

Brendon shakes his head, kissing Ryan's forehead. "No, we're done." He brushes Ryan's hair away again. "Do you want to come?"

Ryan shakes his head, and he turns to look at Brendon. "I can get you off," he whispers, and he shifts, even though his back has to hurt. He moves forward to grab for the crotch of Brendon's jeans.

He laughs a little nervously and pushes Ryan back down on the bed. "It's okay, Ryan. Don't worry about moving." He eases his pants down, over his hard cock, and he leans up close to Ryan. "Just open your mouth."

Ryan rolls his eyes up, and his eyes are completely dark, completely under for Brendon. It's both shocking and unsettling, but more than that, it's completely hot to see Ryan so under for him that he's able to trust him.

Brendon doesn't push his cock into Ryan's mouth, just starts to jerk himself off with Ryan's breath against the head of his dick, where he's wet already. Ryan leans up and curls his mouth over Brendon's cock, licking at the slit, and his mouth is hot and wet. He groans a little, like Ryan wants Brendon to just take his mouth.

Instead, he doesn't, just keeps jerking himself off like this, with just the head past Ryan's lips, and Ryan blinking at him, his eyelashes dark against the curve of his cheek before Brendon starts to come. Ryan lets his mouth fall away after Brendon starts to come, like he wants Brendon to come on his face.

Brendon laughs at that, before he leans down to kiss Ryan, tasting himself on Ryan's mouth. Ryan whimpers a little as he starts kissing back, trying to roll back onto his back. His pained gasp fills Brendon's mouth.

He sits back, and he touches Ryan's face, the mess on his cheek. "You need to be rubbed down, don't you?"

Ryan shivers a little. "'M fine," he whispers, and he leans up to try to kiss Brendon again.

But Brendon doesn't want to hear it, letting Ryan shift back until he's almost on his flushed-red skin, until he can see that Ryan's still hard, and his cock painting slick against his lower stomach. He stares at Ryan's cock, reaching down to touch it, his fingers brushing over Ryan's balls.

"Ryan, don't you want to come?" he whispers.

Ryan rolls his eyes down, and he shakes his head. "It's okay," he whispers. "Don't need to."

Brendon touches Ryan's balls again, before he's running two fingers up along the shaft. Ryan gasps and shivers and shakes his head. "'M okay," he says, and Brendon laughs a little.

"Maybe I want you to come," he says, voice low and hard. "I want to make you come."

Ryan shivers again, and his eyes are so completely dark when Brendon starts to brush his fingers against Ryan's hole, leaning down to suck at the head of Ryan's cock. He keeps his tongue moving, pushing his mouth down over his cock. Ryan's heavy and thick on his tongue, and Ryan is shaking, groaning. Brendon slides two fingers into his mouth, next to Ryan's cock to get them wet.

Ryan starts whispering, "Fuck, fuck, fuck," when he realizes what Brendon's going to do, before he pushes both fingers into Ryan's ass, working them in as he hums against Ryan's cock.

He barely has time to crook them, to try to make Ryan scream more, before Ryan's coming. Brendon tries to catch it all in his mouth, but Ryan's too much, and he likes the idea of looking just as slutty as Ryan when he goes back up to kiss him, so they can both taste each other.

Ryan's almost out cold, so relaxed now, and Brendon almost feels bad for getting up off the bed and into the bathroom, running a warm shower to wash them both off. Ryan just lets Brendon wash him off, kissing his neck and shoulder. He whimpers a little when Brendon works shampoo into his hair, but he's loose and tired.

It's only when Brendon has them both clean, when he's given Ryan some painkillers and stretched him out on his stomach and started to rub lotion over his upper back and ass, when Brendon kisses the back of Ryan's hair, just under his hairline, that he gets a reaction from Ryan.

He asks, squirting more lotion on Ryan's skin, "So if I ask you to not touch yourself until next time we see each other, will that be okay?"

Ryan turns over a little, looking over his shoulder at Brendon. "Are we there?" he whispers. "That we can do that?" He looks open and trusting, like he just needs to know what Brendon wants.

"I think we are." He trails lotion over Ryan's ass. He bites his lip. "I'd like to be."

Ryan smiles at Brendon then, before he lays down again, pushing his head against the pillow. "I'd like that, too."

***

The thing that's nice about Ryan's house is he's able to stay until almost ten and no one comes out to investigate. Eric's not home yet, and Greenwald is passed out on one of the couches with Z. Neither of them so much as move when Brendon comes to grab his shoes and coat. No one minds that he's there at all.

It's not so much when he gets home, when he comes into his kitchen and Spencer's there with Bogart, feeding him little pieces of turkey from his sandwich. "Hey," he says, and he gives Brendon a grin. "Late night?"

Brendon laughs and grabs a bagel and a can of tuna from the cabinets. "Yeah," he says. He has a bitemark on his shoulder from Ryan, from when he woke up and tried to roll out of bed. He thinks he probably smells a little bit like sex, but he doesn't care. He just digs out the mayonnaise from the fridge, to make a tuna sandwich.

Spencer watches him carefully, as he toasts the bagel and grabs a tomato that's been cut in half, pulling the Saranwrap back. "So, are you dating someone?" he asks finally, his eyebrows raised.

Brendon almost chokes because he doesn't know what he's doing with Ryan, but dating feels like the wrong word. There have been times when they've gone out for tacos before they went home or maybe watched a movie before things got started. It's not... dating means boyfriends and holding hands, not taking Ryan home and beating the shit out of him.

Ryan Ross is not his boyfriend.

"Spence, I'm just sleeping with someone regularly," he says, and that feels the most comfortable. "It's just nice not to have to go through the whole pickup routine."

Spencer chuckles, helping himself to a little of Brendon's tuna after he's drained it. "Well, you could just find someone in a Panic shirt and be like 'Hey, so I'm Brendon.' That works on like, I don't know, a fucking huge portion of our fans."

Brendon wrinkles his nose a little. "That was cool when I was almost their age and they weren't babies, Spence, but we get older and they get younger, and so not cool. Besides, it's cool to be me, like..." He lets his voice trail off, because there are only a small portion of people that he's fine with just being himself around, like he doesn't have to be anyone else or what they expect him to be like, and they're not going to tell the internet or make a big deal out of it.

Ryan's always been one of those people, since Maryland and they almost beat the crap out of each other over the bridge of "Lying." Brendon managed to give Ryan a bloody lip before Brent and Spencer pulled them off of each other, and now the memory makes him smile.

"Huh," Spencer says, and he grabs a little bit more tuna. His eyes are narrowed, and he sees something that Brendon's pretty sure he doesn't want Spencer to see.

Spencer doesn't ask about his new friend, though, and Brendon can stop thinking about relationships and Ryan in the same sentence.

Part Three