find what you need - GSF
find what you need
lady_deathangel ~*~ 5,395 words ~*~ NC-17 ~*~ strong sexual content, language, adult themes ~*~ GSF
Disclaimer: This is in no way true. If you found this by googling your name or the names of friends of yours, seriously, don't read. Or at least, don't say I didn't warn you.
|| Written for the big Bottom!Jon Meme. This is . . . I'm not even sure what it is, to be honest. It's not beta-read, so if you catch any glaring mistakes feel free to let me know. Otherwise, this is technically my first full-length GSF ever and I hope you enjoy it.||
Sometimes, when he's feeling generous, Jon will say that Tom and Mike knew what he wanted before he knew what he wanted. Jon says this because now that he actually does know for himself what he needs, what he wants, he likes to give Tom and Mike the benefit of the doubt (although for entirely different reasons in some ways, it's true of both of them that Jon just refuses to let himself think you really had no idea what you were doing, did you?).
It started like this: Tom and Mike started talking, and then they got drunk and they kept talking. Somewhere along the line, they got Jon drunk and talking. Jon doesn't remember what he said, but it was enough for them to decide that double-teaming him was a good idea. At the time, Jon wasn't sure how gay he was. You know, on a scale of one to ten, he thought he was pretty much a two, maybe a three with enough Jack and pot. But one night, Tom and Mike cornered him in their hotel room and taught Jon that he was probably more like a six, maybe a seven if he was being fucked hard enough.
The memories of it aren't as hazy as Jon pretends they are. If he tries, which he never does, he can still taste Tom's cock at the back of his tongue and he can still feel Mike fucking him with what sloppily passed for precision between the three of them. Jon knows that he was being played with; he was their little game, their experiment, their way of connecting with each other when all else was failing. Jon watched them from the sidelines and thought they were pretty emotionally retarded, the way they somehow thought that friendships with an edge of attraction automatically had to end in fucking.
Jon was really just their excuse, their way of never having to say, "we're exclusive and I like you".
At least Jon learned a lot from the experience. How much he could conceivably take was one of the last lessons, when Tom and Mike were more concerned with each other and just fucking used Jon until he figured anyone else would have tapped out and told them to fuck off. But there was a part of Jon that, however battered and neglected he felt, he loved it a little, too.
Jon knows now that he is more than a little gay and more than a little straight, which doesn't matter much to him because he's also more than a little into being dominated. He doesn't consider himself kinky, he just needs and it's hard to express those needs. It's even scarier to have them. So, gay or straight, after Tom and Mike, Jon gave up on even trying to find another relationship remotely like it and he's been okay that way ever since.
He's never fully satisfied, but his own fear and the fact that he knows, deep down, that Tom and Mike had no idea what the fuck they were doing with him, is enough to make him accept it easily. He doesn't want to be fucked around with, not like that, and he doesn't want to scare anyone off. It's just easier if Jon pretends; pretends Tom and Mike took perfectly good care of him, pretends that he doesn't actually need what they inexpertly gave, pretends he's actually pretty normal, really.
The pretending is disgustingly easy, in fact, until Brendon ruins everything.
_._
Brendon is more perceptive than most people give him credit for. Granted, it's not like Jon doesn't get why he's underestimated all the time. He's a big kid. Which isn't a bad thing, really, because better a big kid than an old stiff in a twenty-year-old body, but it can be tiresome. Brendon's got problems with speaking before he thinks and he can be hyperactive, insensitive and a complete and total Disney nerd.
Jon loves him, though. They fight, they make up, they watch Aladdin, Jon makes fun of him for loving Aladdin so much . . . it's their thing. He and Brendon sort of have an understanding the same way Brendon has an understanding with Spencer and Ryan. They all know Brendon's a big kid but they love him for it and they tend to let him know when he's out of line; they tease him about it and he never seems to mind because he knows they'd never intentionally hurt him. It's just that they all know Brendon and he's not going to change; secretly, Jon's pretty sure none of them really want him to.
But Brendon has hidden depths, depths that aren't so hidden to Jon, Ryan and Spencer, so Jon shouldn't be so surprised when Brendon starts watching him closely. It's not actually all that obvious. Brendon loves to observe people. He's all about sustaining eye contact and when they go out, if he's tired or upset or quiet for no reason, he just watches them, like he wants to know what they're thinking or like he's afraid they'll disappear if he blinks. Maybe both.
Jon doesn't really think anything of it. He doesn't do anything differently so there's no reason for Brendon to have ratcheted up the intensity of his gaze, but Brendon defies logic, sometimes, just like they all do. Jon's expecting for Brendon to come to a conclusion and never share it, because Brendon does that; he stares and he watches and eventually something clicks and makes sense and he moves on, but he rarely tells anyone else what it is.
This time, though, Brendon sits next to Jon on the couch in the cabin and says, "we want to take care of you."
At first, Jon isn't sure if Brendon's playing with him, if that's a line from a movie or if it's a joke that only he gets the punchline to. But when Jon looks at him, Brendon is completely earnest, his face open and sincere. It could be mean anything, he could mean anything, but Jon knows what he means. Brendon's eyes are dark and he's sitting too close, his knee pressing into Jon's thigh, and he definitely means what Jon thinks he means.
"You guys already take care of me," Jon tells him, patting him on the knee and trying to establish some of the boundaries that he's always let fall by the wayside with his band.
Brendon catches his wrist in a strong grip and doesn't let Jon pull away. "Not the way you need," Brendon says, and then he huffs out a breath, "I don't know, did I read you wrong?"
Jon blinks, his mind half-focused on the tight manacle of Brendon's fingers and half-focused on what he's saying. It isn't until Brendon's eyes narrow in triumph that Jon realizes his breath is coming audibly quick and his eyes keep flickering down to Brendon's mouth.
"Okay," Brendon says, "so I read you right. I told Ryan and Spencer and they said I had to talk to you first." His grip on Jon's wrist tightens and then he tugs Jon off-balance, pulling him close. "We can take such good care of you," he whispers, and Jon's practically in his lap, can feel the words as much as hear them, and he wants, oh does he want.
"I really don't want to fuck this up," Jon says, forcing the feeling down and pulling away. "You guys don't even know what you're doing, do you?"
Brendon doesn't deny it, he just flinches and releases Jon as quickly as if he'd been burned. Jon feels bad about it, he does, but as Brendon glares, hurt and a little embarrassed, he tells himself it's for the best.
"You wouldn't fuck this up," Brendon tells him, but he doesn't push the issue, he just rises to his feet and leaves.
_._
With Tom and Mike, Jon always had the choice of saying no, but he didn't really know it. He was well aware of the fact that he was the glue holding them together and the thing at the time was, Jon wouldn't have said no even if he'd felt the compulsion to. Because as fucked up as the situation was, as much fumbling as Tom and Mike did, sometimes they got it right and when they did, it was . . . beyond description.
Jon didn't hang on just for that, though, that's just what he remembers now. Now, of course, Tom and Mike don't speak to each other. Now, Tom talks shit about his old band at every opportunity while Jon has to listen and weigh the loyalties of being a best friend over the loyalties of being a really good one. Now, Tom denies ever having been halfway in love with Mike Carden and he touches Jon the way he did back when there was no sex involved.
So it's easy for Jon to tell himself that he was in it for the sex when, in reality, he was in it for them, because they needed him and he wanted to make them happy and he went about it the only way he knew how. It wasn't like they were using him, Jon, their friend, in a cruel way. They were using him, Jon, their friend the way other friends use each other to pass notes to potential boyfriends and chat up girls they're afraid to talk to.
The sex made it complicated, but it was the need and the desire to do it right that made Jon stay. He remembers the sex but when Spencer corners him two days after Brendon talked to him on the couch, Jon can only think about the other part.
Spencer pins Jon to the wall in the hallway; he's taller than Jon, which Jon never really forgets, but he's never been quite so aware of it.
"Next time," Spencer says, his voice low and implacable, "say no. Don't fuck with him like that."
Jon is aware of all the places that Spencer's body is pressed into his and he wants to melt into the heat of him. He wants to let Spencer hold him up. He wants to give in to what's being offered, but he's convinced that would be a very bad idea, so he puts one hand on Spencer's chest to push him away and says, "fine."
Spencer stares at him and then sighs and walks away.
_._
Jon can't stop thinking about it. Not just Spencer and Brendon and what they're offering (an offer Ryan has yet to chime in on, although he keeps looking at Jon curiously and opening his mouth like he wants to say something before he thinks better of it), but of Tom and Mike, of the parts that were good and the parts that were bad. He remembers the feel of them, in him, on him, the sweaty slide of skin, the crack of a palm over his ass, the tight grip of a hand around the back of his neck.
He tries to figure out what he's so scared of and there are a lot of logical reasons to be afraid, but it comes down to a trust thing. Jon trusted Tom and Mike and they didn't hurt him, but they didn't take care of him like he needed. He thinks he could trust Brendon and Spencer and Ryan, he knows he already does, but he has no idea if they've got any clue what they're offering.
Eventually, Jon has to ask Ryan because Brendon's stopped touching him at all and Spencer's barely talking to him and they're going on break here soon. He'll only torture himself if he doesn't get some answers. Some closure.
"You know it's not just a game, right?" Jon asks Ryan, and Ryan looks a little offended.
"We said we'd take care of you," he says, shoulders hunching in defensively, "you really think we'd. You really think that?"
Jon doesn't, he really doesn't. He knows these guys better than he's ever known anyone. He knows their ticks and their quirks, their secrets and their habits. What they don't tell him with words, they let him see for himself, and what they can't tell him directly, they tell him through each other. They all have things they keep only for themselves because those are necessary, but even then Jon imagines that one day that will all come out, too, and they'll be left with nothing to hide.
"You have to admit, it's kind of coming out of nowhere," Jon says, and Ryan rolls his eyes.
"You're just not as observant as you think you are. We've done this before. All of us. Spencer first. I mean, it's who he is, you know? He showed me. He taught Brendon. We're not new to this."
"You're not experienced, either," Jon points out, and Ryan frowns.
"We wouldn't hurt you. We wouldn't have asked if we thought we would hurt you." Jon doesn't say anything and Ryan leans forward. "You're ours," he says fiercely, cupping the back of Jon's head with one hand. "Your ours and we want to show you. Let us take care of you."
It's not a request, but it's not an order, either. It's both and yet it's neither. It's everything Jon has ever wanted, ever needed, being offered to him and Ryan wants him to say yes. Ryan needs him to say yes, and Jon suspects that Spencer and Brendon do, too.
He can't, not yet. But he doesn't say no.
_._
Over the phone, the distance from the others is maddening. Jon's in Chicago for a week, catching up with family and friends, and he's talking to Ryan almost every day but it isn't the same.
"How's the writing coming?" he asks, and Ryan always says, "it's not. It's shitty."
A few times, Spencer calls. He sounds more natural, but there's an edge to his tone, too, like he's not going to take Jon's bullshit anymore. So, Jon doesn't try to bullshit with him. He keeps things casual, but he tries to tell Spencer without words that he's confused and wants too much, needs too much. Maybe that's just the kind of crap Spencer doesn't want to hear, because the last time they talk all he says is, "this is getting old. Make up your mind and come home, Jon."
Jon finds himself stuck in some kind of limbo. He can't pretend, anymore, that he doesn't want and need and crave what is being offered. He can't pretend that they don't want, need and crave it back. He feels more vulnerable than he has in a long time, and eventually, he can't take it anymore.
He calls Brendon and the first thing he says is, "I'm freaking out."
Brendon hums and then yells at Shane to shut up before there's the sound of the door closing on hysterical laughter. "He beat me at Guitar Hero once," Brendon says, "once and he thinks that's something to write home about."
Jon laughs and tips his head back against his bed's headboard, staring up at the dark ceiling, listening to Brendon breathe.
"You shouldn't freak out," he finally says. "I mean, you can, but you don't have to. It's just us."
Jon sucks in a breath and says, "that's just it. It's not just you. It's. You're more than that."
"Oh," Brendon says soft, a little awed. "Oh. Did you tell Spencer and Ryan?"
"No," Jon says.
"Tell them," he says, and it's not a suggestion. "Tell them and then come home so we can work on this."
In another time and place, before this got blown wide open, Jon would have been able to convince himself that they were just talking about the music. But he knows better, just like he knows every conversation he's had with Ryan about starting over on the album has been about more than just the songs they wrote in the cabin, just like he knows that every conversation he's had with Spencer about nothing has been about every important thing they haven't said.
In another time and place, Jon would have argued that he was home, home in Chicago, home with his friends and family.
Here and now, though, Jon knows better. He's so far from home it hurts, and he's been far from home for longer than he wants to admit.
"Yeah, okay," Jon says, and he can practically hear Brendon's smile.
"Good."
_._
The first time with Tom and Mike had been unexpected and Jon remembers a lot of whiskey beforehand and being pleasantly sore for days after. It didn't mean anything, though. It wasn't until later that he figured it out.
It was never just Jon and Tom or just Jon and Mike. It was never just Tom and Mike, either, because if it had been, Jon wouldn't have been needed. There was a level of co-dependence between the three of them that Jon picked up on well-into their strange little sexual relationship and that he sees even more clearly in retrospect.
On the plane back to Vegas, Jon thinks that Tom and Mike needed each other more than they needed him and that was the problem. They just didn't want to admit it, or maybe they just didn't get it. Either way, Jon was what they transferred all of that onto and he carried it for a long time, the burden of being the walking, talking symbol of their fucked up relationship.
He leaves it behind in Chicago because he doesn't need it anymore. He's got something better waiting for him.
_._
When Brendon sits next to Jon on Ryan's couch a few hours after his plane touched down, he says, "you're going to let us take care of you, now," and Jon shivers at the possessive note in his voice.
He says, "yes," and Brendon grins and reaches out to drag nimble fingers through his hair.
"And you know you're not going to fuck anything up," he adds, his tone a little less sure but making up for it with steely determination.
"I know," Jon says.
Brendon grips a handful of hair and tugs and Jon willingly tips his head back. The hot, almost chaste press of lips to the underside of his jaw is electric, the scrape of teeth sharp with purpose.
"You're going to be so good, I know it," he says, and Jon smiles to himself.
"I trust you."
_._
This time it starts more slowly, like they're easing into it. Their touches become more possessive, Spencer's fingers laced tight with Jon's when they watch movies together, or Brendon's hands curled around Jon's hips when they're crowding Ryan's kitchen trying to decide what to eat for dinner. Ryan's the most overt about it. It's like now that he knows he can have, he can't keep his hands to himself, but he always touches Jon with such care and purpose, reminders of who Jon belongs to and of what they're embarking on together.
Most of the time, things aren't even that different from usual. They haven't written any new music yet, but they will. So far, they've spent most of their first week back together dicking around with cover songs and trying to stop stressing over the new album. They see a lot of movies, go on a lot of what Jon starts to think of as dates even though they're doing the same old shit as always.
The afternoon that it changes, it's unexpected but in the most pleasant way possible. They're at Ryan's, like they usually are, sitting around his dinner table attempting to collaborate on a crossword puzzle. Brendon says something that makes Spencer throw his head back and laugh, and Jon finds himself staring at the long line of Spencer's throat, wondering what it would feel like to kiss the smooth skin, to keep trailing his lips up until he could feel the rasp of Spencer's beard.
Ryan and Brendon notice him staring and, when Spencer blinks his eyes open, he notices too. He doesn't stop smiling, but Jon can feel the tension in the room, the same kind they've been living with for a while now. He swallows hard and says, "I want you to kiss me," looking Spencer straight on and unflinching.
For a moment, Spencer doesn't say anything. His smile dims and then fades, replaced by a look that Jon can't quite decipher. He's not afraid and if he's told no, he'll be patient and wait until Spencer decides it's okay. But Jon wants this now and he leans forward, hands braced on the table, and says, "please."
The upward curl of Spencer's mouth is wicked and maybe a little proud. He leans forward without a word. Ryan's table isn't very wide, but there's still too much space separating the two of them. Spencer's lips barely brush Jon's and the shock of sensation is a tease. Jon makes a small sound and pushes forward, but Spencer tilts his head back, keeps the contact to another glancing kiss.
"You're such a tease, Spence," Brendon says, and when Jon looks up he's staring at them both with a hungry, possessive glint in his eyes.
Spencer looks over at him and then glances at Ryan. Whatever they're saying to each other, it's silent and Jon's not a part of it. He trusts them, though, and sits, trying not to shiver, waiting for one of them to speak.
"Spencer's going to fuck you," Ryan says, and Jon jerks his head to the side to stare at him. "He's going to fuck you right here, while Brendon watches."
Jon opens his mouth to ask what Ryan's going to do, but the words are cut off by Ryan leaning forward and licking delicately into his mouth. Jon bites back a whimper and this time, Ryan presses their lips together, hard and insistent. He kisses with a kind of finesse that Jon wasn't expecting, like he's going to be graded on this, like what he does with his tongue in Jon's mouth is fucking important. Jon lets himself be kissed and when his hands twitch with the aim of touching, holding, something, familiar fingers keep them where they are, splayed against the tabletop.
Ryan pulls out of the kiss and Jon looks up to see that Brendon's taken Spencer's place across from him. For a moment, Jon's not sure where Spencer went, and then he feels lips pressed to the back of his neck and he knows. Brendon's grin is crooked as Spencer tugs Jon out of his seat.
"No touching," he says, standing up as well, trailing his fingertips over the backs of Jon's hands. "This is just for you. Keep still."
Jon nods and jumps when Spencer sinks his teeth into the side of his neck.
"I didn't hear you answer him," he says, and Jon catches Brendon's eye and says, "yes," in as strong a voice as he can manage.
Spencer smooths one hand down Jon's chest and hums against his throat. "Good boy," he says.
After that, the world dissolves into the press of lips to his skin, the slide of a tongue in his mouth. He isn't sure how he's aware enough to know when he's kissing Brendon for the first time or Spencer, he doesn't know how he can possibly tell the difference between the fingers on his shoulders and the ones spread over his belly, but he does. Through the haze of pleasure and the dizzying trade off from mouth to mouth and hand to hand, he always knows.
Spencer gets him bent over the table, his jeans and boxers around his ankles, and Jon watches Brendon and Ryan across from him as they kiss. There's a gentle familiarity to it even though the kiss isn't gentle at all. Neither of them give anything to the other, but they aren't brutal in taking, just precise, like they know each other too well to be anything but.
"They're gorgeous, aren't they?" Spencer asks, leaning forward to speak into Jon's ear.
"Yes," Jon whispers, eyes glued to the spectacle of them.
He's so distracted that it comes as a real shock when Spencer presses one palm to the small of Jon's back and slides a slick finger inside of him in one motion. Jon's back arches, his chest forced against the flat of the table, and he barely registers Brendon and Ryan turning to look before his eyes slide shut.
Spencer crooks his finger and when he brushes Jon's prostate, Jon moans, the sound low and ragged. He turns his head, pressing his cheek to the cool surface beneath him when Spencer adds a second finger, fucking him in earnest and curling his fingers on every other thrust. It feels good, so fucking good and Jon wants Spencer inside of him, he needs Spencer inside of him.
"Please," he gasps, "Spencer, please."
"Are you ready?" Spencer asks, keeping his hand steady against the small of Jon's back, his fingers moving slow in and out.
"Yes," Jon says, and he is, he's past ready, he's been ready for this for longer than he could ever admit.
Spencer says Ryan's name and Jon opens his eyes in time to see Ryan dropping a quick, lingering kiss on Brendon's lips.
"Have fun," Brendon says, and Ryan flashes a smile at Jon before dropping to his knees.
Brendon leans forward, elbows on the table, and nuzzles his nose along Jon's. Jon's breathless, not overwhelmed, not in the least, but feeling desperate for more. He's never wanted anyone or anything as much as he wants this and them right now. As if he can sense it, Brendon runs his thumb slowly over Jon's bottom lip and says, "now, Spence."
Spencer curls one hand around Jon's hip and there's a second of anticipation before Jon can feel the head of Spencer's cock nudging at his entrance, resting there for a hot beat before pushing in. It's been a while since Jon's done this, and two fingers were enough to stretch him but not enough to take away the burn. The pain is dull compared to the pleasure and Jon wraps his lips around Brendon's thumb to keep from whimpering.
"Fuck," Brendon breathes, his voice dark and heavy, "you look so good like this. I want to see you on your knees," he adds, pushing his thumb further into Jon's mouth, until his lips kiss the webbing between Brendon's fingers. "You'll be so good on your knees, won't you?"
Jon nods and groans when Spencer pauses, all the way inside. He shifts his hips, trying to make Spencer move, but the hand on his hip tightens and it isn't until Jon feels a hot burst of air over the head of his cock that he realizes what Spencer’s waiting for. Ryan's tongue darts out, licks firmly up the underside of Jon's dick, and he doesn't know if he wants to thrust forward or grind back.
After a long moment of what feels like the most horrible tease of his life, with Ryan licking the head of his cock and Spencer full and hard inside but not moving, Ryan takes Jon in his mouth and Spencer pulls out and thrusts quickly in. Jon's mouth opens on a wordless gasp and Brendon takes his hand from where it had been resting against Jon's cheek. Fingers tangle in his hair and pull and Jon cranes his head back with the tingling pain in his scalp, eyes closed against the onslaught of sensation as Spencer fucks him and Ryan sucks him off.
"Fuck, Jon, you don't even know how gorgeous you are," Brendon breathes, and Jon doesn't know, he doesn't care, he just feels. "I'm going to fuck your mouth. Not now, but later. I'm going to fuck your mouth and Spencer's going to rim you and when you're wet and begging for it, Ryan's going to fuck you. You won't come though, not until we say."
Jon moans, pants toward the ceiling, whispers, "yes, yes, yes."
Brendon leans forward, licks over his throat and nips at his jaw. Underneath the table, Ryan is taking him in as far as he can go, until Jon's cock nudges the back of his throat, and if the hot, wet suction isn't enough, Spencer is fucking him so perfectly he’s hitting Jon’s prostate on almost every thrust. There's nowhere for Jon to go, not with Ryan on his knees for him, not with Spencer fucking him so hard he’s going to have bruises from the table along his hips, not when Brendon is sucking at the base of his throat and whispering about how hot he is, how good he knows Spencer feels, how Ryan isn't going to stop until Jon comes so hard he blacks out.
Between all of it, Jon feels torn open and raw. He can't breathe, can't find the right rhythm, can't touch, can't even keep his eyes open because they keep rolling back whenever Ryan undulates his tongue against Jon's cock or Spencer snaps his hips harder. His orgasm is building fast and furious in the pit of his stomach and he’s shaking with the need to let go. For a split second, he’s afraid of it, of the power the three of them have over him, of his own inability to do anything, of how much he feels and how deeply he wants and how desperately he needs.
Brendon's hand pulls even tighter in his hair until Jon has to cry out in pain and he bites hard at Jon's bottom lip.
"Look at me," he orders, and Jon pries his eyes open and sees Brendon, fierce and powerful, but still Brendon, his Brendon. "You're ours," he says harshly, and Spencer ceases all movement, leaning forward until his chest is lined up with Jon's back.
"Ours," he echoes, pressing a kiss to Jon's ear.
Jon shudders beneath him and Brendon keeps his hold tight. "You can let go now," he says, and Jon feels, more than hears, Ryan's moan of encouragement.
For an almost painful moment, Jon lingers in the hot, tight space between pleasure and orgasm and then Ryan is sucking hard on his cock and Brendon is kissing him roughly on the mouth and Spencer is holding his hips steady as he fucks into him. Jon sobs out a breath into Brendon's mouth and finally, finally lets himself come. It crashes into him, wave upon wave of pleasure, and Brendon swallows his moans while Ryan sucks him through it.
And then, Brendon's hand is gone from his hair and Ryan's mouth is gone from his cock and it’s just him and Spencer. Jon's hands clench against the table as Spencer fucks him, his pace more erratic now, and he can't look as Ryan kisses the knuckles of his right hand while Brendon kisses the knuckles of his left.
"You can touch, now," Ryan says, and Jon bites his lip and reaches back, hand grasping at Spencer's thigh and clutching.
Spencer makes a soft, sweet sound and thrusts in one more time before going still, his hands clenching Jon's hips almost to the point of pain.
What feels like hours later, after they've caught their breath, Jon becomes aware of the hands in his hair and the lips against his back, Ryan and Spencer. Brendon nudges their noses together again. There’s still a table between them, and Jon would cross the distance if he had the energy.
"Did you-"
"Yeah," Brendon says before angling his head and kissing Jon, crooked, on the lips. "Didn't I tell you we'd take care of you?"
Jon smiles and says, "yes."
_._
Sometimes, Jon remembers a time when what he wanted and what he needed seemed like two disparate things and he kept them that way, telling himself he wanted things he could actually have, needing only the things he couldn't seem to find.
Nowadays, though, things are a little different. What Jon needs and what he wants are one and the same. He should maybe be scared of what happens if it gets fucked up, of what happens if he's left behind or if someday he's not enough.
He should maybe be scared. He's not. He’s taken care of and there’s no fear in letting Ryan, Spencer and Brendon do that for him.
lady_deathangel ~*~ 5,395 words ~*~ NC-17 ~*~ strong sexual content, language, adult themes ~*~ GSF
Disclaimer: This is in no way true. If you found this by googling your name or the names of friends of yours, seriously, don't read. Or at least, don't say I didn't warn you.
|| Written for the big Bottom!Jon Meme. This is . . . I'm not even sure what it is, to be honest. It's not beta-read, so if you catch any glaring mistakes feel free to let me know. Otherwise, this is technically my first full-length GSF ever and I hope you enjoy it.||
Sometimes, when he's feeling generous, Jon will say that Tom and Mike knew what he wanted before he knew what he wanted. Jon says this because now that he actually does know for himself what he needs, what he wants, he likes to give Tom and Mike the benefit of the doubt (although for entirely different reasons in some ways, it's true of both of them that Jon just refuses to let himself think you really had no idea what you were doing, did you?).
It started like this: Tom and Mike started talking, and then they got drunk and they kept talking. Somewhere along the line, they got Jon drunk and talking. Jon doesn't remember what he said, but it was enough for them to decide that double-teaming him was a good idea. At the time, Jon wasn't sure how gay he was. You know, on a scale of one to ten, he thought he was pretty much a two, maybe a three with enough Jack and pot. But one night, Tom and Mike cornered him in their hotel room and taught Jon that he was probably more like a six, maybe a seven if he was being fucked hard enough.
The memories of it aren't as hazy as Jon pretends they are. If he tries, which he never does, he can still taste Tom's cock at the back of his tongue and he can still feel Mike fucking him with what sloppily passed for precision between the three of them. Jon knows that he was being played with; he was their little game, their experiment, their way of connecting with each other when all else was failing. Jon watched them from the sidelines and thought they were pretty emotionally retarded, the way they somehow thought that friendships with an edge of attraction automatically had to end in fucking.
Jon was really just their excuse, their way of never having to say, "we're exclusive and I like you".
At least Jon learned a lot from the experience. How much he could conceivably take was one of the last lessons, when Tom and Mike were more concerned with each other and just fucking used Jon until he figured anyone else would have tapped out and told them to fuck off. But there was a part of Jon that, however battered and neglected he felt, he loved it a little, too.
Jon knows now that he is more than a little gay and more than a little straight, which doesn't matter much to him because he's also more than a little into being dominated. He doesn't consider himself kinky, he just needs and it's hard to express those needs. It's even scarier to have them. So, gay or straight, after Tom and Mike, Jon gave up on even trying to find another relationship remotely like it and he's been okay that way ever since.
He's never fully satisfied, but his own fear and the fact that he knows, deep down, that Tom and Mike had no idea what the fuck they were doing with him, is enough to make him accept it easily. He doesn't want to be fucked around with, not like that, and he doesn't want to scare anyone off. It's just easier if Jon pretends; pretends Tom and Mike took perfectly good care of him, pretends that he doesn't actually need what they inexpertly gave, pretends he's actually pretty normal, really.
The pretending is disgustingly easy, in fact, until Brendon ruins everything.
_._
Brendon is more perceptive than most people give him credit for. Granted, it's not like Jon doesn't get why he's underestimated all the time. He's a big kid. Which isn't a bad thing, really, because better a big kid than an old stiff in a twenty-year-old body, but it can be tiresome. Brendon's got problems with speaking before he thinks and he can be hyperactive, insensitive and a complete and total Disney nerd.
Jon loves him, though. They fight, they make up, they watch Aladdin, Jon makes fun of him for loving Aladdin so much . . . it's their thing. He and Brendon sort of have an understanding the same way Brendon has an understanding with Spencer and Ryan. They all know Brendon's a big kid but they love him for it and they tend to let him know when he's out of line; they tease him about it and he never seems to mind because he knows they'd never intentionally hurt him. It's just that they all know Brendon and he's not going to change; secretly, Jon's pretty sure none of them really want him to.
But Brendon has hidden depths, depths that aren't so hidden to Jon, Ryan and Spencer, so Jon shouldn't be so surprised when Brendon starts watching him closely. It's not actually all that obvious. Brendon loves to observe people. He's all about sustaining eye contact and when they go out, if he's tired or upset or quiet for no reason, he just watches them, like he wants to know what they're thinking or like he's afraid they'll disappear if he blinks. Maybe both.
Jon doesn't really think anything of it. He doesn't do anything differently so there's no reason for Brendon to have ratcheted up the intensity of his gaze, but Brendon defies logic, sometimes, just like they all do. Jon's expecting for Brendon to come to a conclusion and never share it, because Brendon does that; he stares and he watches and eventually something clicks and makes sense and he moves on, but he rarely tells anyone else what it is.
This time, though, Brendon sits next to Jon on the couch in the cabin and says, "we want to take care of you."
At first, Jon isn't sure if Brendon's playing with him, if that's a line from a movie or if it's a joke that only he gets the punchline to. But when Jon looks at him, Brendon is completely earnest, his face open and sincere. It could be mean anything, he could mean anything, but Jon knows what he means. Brendon's eyes are dark and he's sitting too close, his knee pressing into Jon's thigh, and he definitely means what Jon thinks he means.
"You guys already take care of me," Jon tells him, patting him on the knee and trying to establish some of the boundaries that he's always let fall by the wayside with his band.
Brendon catches his wrist in a strong grip and doesn't let Jon pull away. "Not the way you need," Brendon says, and then he huffs out a breath, "I don't know, did I read you wrong?"
Jon blinks, his mind half-focused on the tight manacle of Brendon's fingers and half-focused on what he's saying. It isn't until Brendon's eyes narrow in triumph that Jon realizes his breath is coming audibly quick and his eyes keep flickering down to Brendon's mouth.
"Okay," Brendon says, "so I read you right. I told Ryan and Spencer and they said I had to talk to you first." His grip on Jon's wrist tightens and then he tugs Jon off-balance, pulling him close. "We can take such good care of you," he whispers, and Jon's practically in his lap, can feel the words as much as hear them, and he wants, oh does he want.
"I really don't want to fuck this up," Jon says, forcing the feeling down and pulling away. "You guys don't even know what you're doing, do you?"
Brendon doesn't deny it, he just flinches and releases Jon as quickly as if he'd been burned. Jon feels bad about it, he does, but as Brendon glares, hurt and a little embarrassed, he tells himself it's for the best.
"You wouldn't fuck this up," Brendon tells him, but he doesn't push the issue, he just rises to his feet and leaves.
_._
With Tom and Mike, Jon always had the choice of saying no, but he didn't really know it. He was well aware of the fact that he was the glue holding them together and the thing at the time was, Jon wouldn't have said no even if he'd felt the compulsion to. Because as fucked up as the situation was, as much fumbling as Tom and Mike did, sometimes they got it right and when they did, it was . . . beyond description.
Jon didn't hang on just for that, though, that's just what he remembers now. Now, of course, Tom and Mike don't speak to each other. Now, Tom talks shit about his old band at every opportunity while Jon has to listen and weigh the loyalties of being a best friend over the loyalties of being a really good one. Now, Tom denies ever having been halfway in love with Mike Carden and he touches Jon the way he did back when there was no sex involved.
So it's easy for Jon to tell himself that he was in it for the sex when, in reality, he was in it for them, because they needed him and he wanted to make them happy and he went about it the only way he knew how. It wasn't like they were using him, Jon, their friend, in a cruel way. They were using him, Jon, their friend the way other friends use each other to pass notes to potential boyfriends and chat up girls they're afraid to talk to.
The sex made it complicated, but it was the need and the desire to do it right that made Jon stay. He remembers the sex but when Spencer corners him two days after Brendon talked to him on the couch, Jon can only think about the other part.
Spencer pins Jon to the wall in the hallway; he's taller than Jon, which Jon never really forgets, but he's never been quite so aware of it.
"Next time," Spencer says, his voice low and implacable, "say no. Don't fuck with him like that."
Jon is aware of all the places that Spencer's body is pressed into his and he wants to melt into the heat of him. He wants to let Spencer hold him up. He wants to give in to what's being offered, but he's convinced that would be a very bad idea, so he puts one hand on Spencer's chest to push him away and says, "fine."
Spencer stares at him and then sighs and walks away.
_._
Jon can't stop thinking about it. Not just Spencer and Brendon and what they're offering (an offer Ryan has yet to chime in on, although he keeps looking at Jon curiously and opening his mouth like he wants to say something before he thinks better of it), but of Tom and Mike, of the parts that were good and the parts that were bad. He remembers the feel of them, in him, on him, the sweaty slide of skin, the crack of a palm over his ass, the tight grip of a hand around the back of his neck.
He tries to figure out what he's so scared of and there are a lot of logical reasons to be afraid, but it comes down to a trust thing. Jon trusted Tom and Mike and they didn't hurt him, but they didn't take care of him like he needed. He thinks he could trust Brendon and Spencer and Ryan, he knows he already does, but he has no idea if they've got any clue what they're offering.
Eventually, Jon has to ask Ryan because Brendon's stopped touching him at all and Spencer's barely talking to him and they're going on break here soon. He'll only torture himself if he doesn't get some answers. Some closure.
"You know it's not just a game, right?" Jon asks Ryan, and Ryan looks a little offended.
"We said we'd take care of you," he says, shoulders hunching in defensively, "you really think we'd. You really think that?"
Jon doesn't, he really doesn't. He knows these guys better than he's ever known anyone. He knows their ticks and their quirks, their secrets and their habits. What they don't tell him with words, they let him see for himself, and what they can't tell him directly, they tell him through each other. They all have things they keep only for themselves because those are necessary, but even then Jon imagines that one day that will all come out, too, and they'll be left with nothing to hide.
"You have to admit, it's kind of coming out of nowhere," Jon says, and Ryan rolls his eyes.
"You're just not as observant as you think you are. We've done this before. All of us. Spencer first. I mean, it's who he is, you know? He showed me. He taught Brendon. We're not new to this."
"You're not experienced, either," Jon points out, and Ryan frowns.
"We wouldn't hurt you. We wouldn't have asked if we thought we would hurt you." Jon doesn't say anything and Ryan leans forward. "You're ours," he says fiercely, cupping the back of Jon's head with one hand. "Your ours and we want to show you. Let us take care of you."
It's not a request, but it's not an order, either. It's both and yet it's neither. It's everything Jon has ever wanted, ever needed, being offered to him and Ryan wants him to say yes. Ryan needs him to say yes, and Jon suspects that Spencer and Brendon do, too.
He can't, not yet. But he doesn't say no.
_._
Over the phone, the distance from the others is maddening. Jon's in Chicago for a week, catching up with family and friends, and he's talking to Ryan almost every day but it isn't the same.
"How's the writing coming?" he asks, and Ryan always says, "it's not. It's shitty."
A few times, Spencer calls. He sounds more natural, but there's an edge to his tone, too, like he's not going to take Jon's bullshit anymore. So, Jon doesn't try to bullshit with him. He keeps things casual, but he tries to tell Spencer without words that he's confused and wants too much, needs too much. Maybe that's just the kind of crap Spencer doesn't want to hear, because the last time they talk all he says is, "this is getting old. Make up your mind and come home, Jon."
Jon finds himself stuck in some kind of limbo. He can't pretend, anymore, that he doesn't want and need and crave what is being offered. He can't pretend that they don't want, need and crave it back. He feels more vulnerable than he has in a long time, and eventually, he can't take it anymore.
He calls Brendon and the first thing he says is, "I'm freaking out."
Brendon hums and then yells at Shane to shut up before there's the sound of the door closing on hysterical laughter. "He beat me at Guitar Hero once," Brendon says, "once and he thinks that's something to write home about."
Jon laughs and tips his head back against his bed's headboard, staring up at the dark ceiling, listening to Brendon breathe.
"You shouldn't freak out," he finally says. "I mean, you can, but you don't have to. It's just us."
Jon sucks in a breath and says, "that's just it. It's not just you. It's. You're more than that."
"Oh," Brendon says soft, a little awed. "Oh. Did you tell Spencer and Ryan?"
"No," Jon says.
"Tell them," he says, and it's not a suggestion. "Tell them and then come home so we can work on this."
In another time and place, before this got blown wide open, Jon would have been able to convince himself that they were just talking about the music. But he knows better, just like he knows every conversation he's had with Ryan about starting over on the album has been about more than just the songs they wrote in the cabin, just like he knows that every conversation he's had with Spencer about nothing has been about every important thing they haven't said.
In another time and place, Jon would have argued that he was home, home in Chicago, home with his friends and family.
Here and now, though, Jon knows better. He's so far from home it hurts, and he's been far from home for longer than he wants to admit.
"Yeah, okay," Jon says, and he can practically hear Brendon's smile.
"Good."
_._
The first time with Tom and Mike had been unexpected and Jon remembers a lot of whiskey beforehand and being pleasantly sore for days after. It didn't mean anything, though. It wasn't until later that he figured it out.
It was never just Jon and Tom or just Jon and Mike. It was never just Tom and Mike, either, because if it had been, Jon wouldn't have been needed. There was a level of co-dependence between the three of them that Jon picked up on well-into their strange little sexual relationship and that he sees even more clearly in retrospect.
On the plane back to Vegas, Jon thinks that Tom and Mike needed each other more than they needed him and that was the problem. They just didn't want to admit it, or maybe they just didn't get it. Either way, Jon was what they transferred all of that onto and he carried it for a long time, the burden of being the walking, talking symbol of their fucked up relationship.
He leaves it behind in Chicago because he doesn't need it anymore. He's got something better waiting for him.
_._
When Brendon sits next to Jon on Ryan's couch a few hours after his plane touched down, he says, "you're going to let us take care of you, now," and Jon shivers at the possessive note in his voice.
He says, "yes," and Brendon grins and reaches out to drag nimble fingers through his hair.
"And you know you're not going to fuck anything up," he adds, his tone a little less sure but making up for it with steely determination.
"I know," Jon says.
Brendon grips a handful of hair and tugs and Jon willingly tips his head back. The hot, almost chaste press of lips to the underside of his jaw is electric, the scrape of teeth sharp with purpose.
"You're going to be so good, I know it," he says, and Jon smiles to himself.
"I trust you."
_._
This time it starts more slowly, like they're easing into it. Their touches become more possessive, Spencer's fingers laced tight with Jon's when they watch movies together, or Brendon's hands curled around Jon's hips when they're crowding Ryan's kitchen trying to decide what to eat for dinner. Ryan's the most overt about it. It's like now that he knows he can have, he can't keep his hands to himself, but he always touches Jon with such care and purpose, reminders of who Jon belongs to and of what they're embarking on together.
Most of the time, things aren't even that different from usual. They haven't written any new music yet, but they will. So far, they've spent most of their first week back together dicking around with cover songs and trying to stop stressing over the new album. They see a lot of movies, go on a lot of what Jon starts to think of as dates even though they're doing the same old shit as always.
The afternoon that it changes, it's unexpected but in the most pleasant way possible. They're at Ryan's, like they usually are, sitting around his dinner table attempting to collaborate on a crossword puzzle. Brendon says something that makes Spencer throw his head back and laugh, and Jon finds himself staring at the long line of Spencer's throat, wondering what it would feel like to kiss the smooth skin, to keep trailing his lips up until he could feel the rasp of Spencer's beard.
Ryan and Brendon notice him staring and, when Spencer blinks his eyes open, he notices too. He doesn't stop smiling, but Jon can feel the tension in the room, the same kind they've been living with for a while now. He swallows hard and says, "I want you to kiss me," looking Spencer straight on and unflinching.
For a moment, Spencer doesn't say anything. His smile dims and then fades, replaced by a look that Jon can't quite decipher. He's not afraid and if he's told no, he'll be patient and wait until Spencer decides it's okay. But Jon wants this now and he leans forward, hands braced on the table, and says, "please."
The upward curl of Spencer's mouth is wicked and maybe a little proud. He leans forward without a word. Ryan's table isn't very wide, but there's still too much space separating the two of them. Spencer's lips barely brush Jon's and the shock of sensation is a tease. Jon makes a small sound and pushes forward, but Spencer tilts his head back, keeps the contact to another glancing kiss.
"You're such a tease, Spence," Brendon says, and when Jon looks up he's staring at them both with a hungry, possessive glint in his eyes.
Spencer looks over at him and then glances at Ryan. Whatever they're saying to each other, it's silent and Jon's not a part of it. He trusts them, though, and sits, trying not to shiver, waiting for one of them to speak.
"Spencer's going to fuck you," Ryan says, and Jon jerks his head to the side to stare at him. "He's going to fuck you right here, while Brendon watches."
Jon opens his mouth to ask what Ryan's going to do, but the words are cut off by Ryan leaning forward and licking delicately into his mouth. Jon bites back a whimper and this time, Ryan presses their lips together, hard and insistent. He kisses with a kind of finesse that Jon wasn't expecting, like he's going to be graded on this, like what he does with his tongue in Jon's mouth is fucking important. Jon lets himself be kissed and when his hands twitch with the aim of touching, holding, something, familiar fingers keep them where they are, splayed against the tabletop.
Ryan pulls out of the kiss and Jon looks up to see that Brendon's taken Spencer's place across from him. For a moment, Jon's not sure where Spencer went, and then he feels lips pressed to the back of his neck and he knows. Brendon's grin is crooked as Spencer tugs Jon out of his seat.
"No touching," he says, standing up as well, trailing his fingertips over the backs of Jon's hands. "This is just for you. Keep still."
Jon nods and jumps when Spencer sinks his teeth into the side of his neck.
"I didn't hear you answer him," he says, and Jon catches Brendon's eye and says, "yes," in as strong a voice as he can manage.
Spencer smooths one hand down Jon's chest and hums against his throat. "Good boy," he says.
After that, the world dissolves into the press of lips to his skin, the slide of a tongue in his mouth. He isn't sure how he's aware enough to know when he's kissing Brendon for the first time or Spencer, he doesn't know how he can possibly tell the difference between the fingers on his shoulders and the ones spread over his belly, but he does. Through the haze of pleasure and the dizzying trade off from mouth to mouth and hand to hand, he always knows.
Spencer gets him bent over the table, his jeans and boxers around his ankles, and Jon watches Brendon and Ryan across from him as they kiss. There's a gentle familiarity to it even though the kiss isn't gentle at all. Neither of them give anything to the other, but they aren't brutal in taking, just precise, like they know each other too well to be anything but.
"They're gorgeous, aren't they?" Spencer asks, leaning forward to speak into Jon's ear.
"Yes," Jon whispers, eyes glued to the spectacle of them.
He's so distracted that it comes as a real shock when Spencer presses one palm to the small of Jon's back and slides a slick finger inside of him in one motion. Jon's back arches, his chest forced against the flat of the table, and he barely registers Brendon and Ryan turning to look before his eyes slide shut.
Spencer crooks his finger and when he brushes Jon's prostate, Jon moans, the sound low and ragged. He turns his head, pressing his cheek to the cool surface beneath him when Spencer adds a second finger, fucking him in earnest and curling his fingers on every other thrust. It feels good, so fucking good and Jon wants Spencer inside of him, he needs Spencer inside of him.
"Please," he gasps, "Spencer, please."
"Are you ready?" Spencer asks, keeping his hand steady against the small of Jon's back, his fingers moving slow in and out.
"Yes," Jon says, and he is, he's past ready, he's been ready for this for longer than he could ever admit.
Spencer says Ryan's name and Jon opens his eyes in time to see Ryan dropping a quick, lingering kiss on Brendon's lips.
"Have fun," Brendon says, and Ryan flashes a smile at Jon before dropping to his knees.
Brendon leans forward, elbows on the table, and nuzzles his nose along Jon's. Jon's breathless, not overwhelmed, not in the least, but feeling desperate for more. He's never wanted anyone or anything as much as he wants this and them right now. As if he can sense it, Brendon runs his thumb slowly over Jon's bottom lip and says, "now, Spence."
Spencer curls one hand around Jon's hip and there's a second of anticipation before Jon can feel the head of Spencer's cock nudging at his entrance, resting there for a hot beat before pushing in. It's been a while since Jon's done this, and two fingers were enough to stretch him but not enough to take away the burn. The pain is dull compared to the pleasure and Jon wraps his lips around Brendon's thumb to keep from whimpering.
"Fuck," Brendon breathes, his voice dark and heavy, "you look so good like this. I want to see you on your knees," he adds, pushing his thumb further into Jon's mouth, until his lips kiss the webbing between Brendon's fingers. "You'll be so good on your knees, won't you?"
Jon nods and groans when Spencer pauses, all the way inside. He shifts his hips, trying to make Spencer move, but the hand on his hip tightens and it isn't until Jon feels a hot burst of air over the head of his cock that he realizes what Spencer’s waiting for. Ryan's tongue darts out, licks firmly up the underside of Jon's dick, and he doesn't know if he wants to thrust forward or grind back.
After a long moment of what feels like the most horrible tease of his life, with Ryan licking the head of his cock and Spencer full and hard inside but not moving, Ryan takes Jon in his mouth and Spencer pulls out and thrusts quickly in. Jon's mouth opens on a wordless gasp and Brendon takes his hand from where it had been resting against Jon's cheek. Fingers tangle in his hair and pull and Jon cranes his head back with the tingling pain in his scalp, eyes closed against the onslaught of sensation as Spencer fucks him and Ryan sucks him off.
"Fuck, Jon, you don't even know how gorgeous you are," Brendon breathes, and Jon doesn't know, he doesn't care, he just feels. "I'm going to fuck your mouth. Not now, but later. I'm going to fuck your mouth and Spencer's going to rim you and when you're wet and begging for it, Ryan's going to fuck you. You won't come though, not until we say."
Jon moans, pants toward the ceiling, whispers, "yes, yes, yes."
Brendon leans forward, licks over his throat and nips at his jaw. Underneath the table, Ryan is taking him in as far as he can go, until Jon's cock nudges the back of his throat, and if the hot, wet suction isn't enough, Spencer is fucking him so perfectly he’s hitting Jon’s prostate on almost every thrust. There's nowhere for Jon to go, not with Ryan on his knees for him, not with Spencer fucking him so hard he’s going to have bruises from the table along his hips, not when Brendon is sucking at the base of his throat and whispering about how hot he is, how good he knows Spencer feels, how Ryan isn't going to stop until Jon comes so hard he blacks out.
Between all of it, Jon feels torn open and raw. He can't breathe, can't find the right rhythm, can't touch, can't even keep his eyes open because they keep rolling back whenever Ryan undulates his tongue against Jon's cock or Spencer snaps his hips harder. His orgasm is building fast and furious in the pit of his stomach and he’s shaking with the need to let go. For a split second, he’s afraid of it, of the power the three of them have over him, of his own inability to do anything, of how much he feels and how deeply he wants and how desperately he needs.
Brendon's hand pulls even tighter in his hair until Jon has to cry out in pain and he bites hard at Jon's bottom lip.
"Look at me," he orders, and Jon pries his eyes open and sees Brendon, fierce and powerful, but still Brendon, his Brendon. "You're ours," he says harshly, and Spencer ceases all movement, leaning forward until his chest is lined up with Jon's back.
"Ours," he echoes, pressing a kiss to Jon's ear.
Jon shudders beneath him and Brendon keeps his hold tight. "You can let go now," he says, and Jon feels, more than hears, Ryan's moan of encouragement.
For an almost painful moment, Jon lingers in the hot, tight space between pleasure and orgasm and then Ryan is sucking hard on his cock and Brendon is kissing him roughly on the mouth and Spencer is holding his hips steady as he fucks into him. Jon sobs out a breath into Brendon's mouth and finally, finally lets himself come. It crashes into him, wave upon wave of pleasure, and Brendon swallows his moans while Ryan sucks him through it.
And then, Brendon's hand is gone from his hair and Ryan's mouth is gone from his cock and it’s just him and Spencer. Jon's hands clench against the table as Spencer fucks him, his pace more erratic now, and he can't look as Ryan kisses the knuckles of his right hand while Brendon kisses the knuckles of his left.
"You can touch, now," Ryan says, and Jon bites his lip and reaches back, hand grasping at Spencer's thigh and clutching.
Spencer makes a soft, sweet sound and thrusts in one more time before going still, his hands clenching Jon's hips almost to the point of pain.
What feels like hours later, after they've caught their breath, Jon becomes aware of the hands in his hair and the lips against his back, Ryan and Spencer. Brendon nudges their noses together again. There’s still a table between them, and Jon would cross the distance if he had the energy.
"Did you-"
"Yeah," Brendon says before angling his head and kissing Jon, crooked, on the lips. "Didn't I tell you we'd take care of you?"
Jon smiles and says, "yes."
_._
Sometimes, Jon remembers a time when what he wanted and what he needed seemed like two disparate things and he kept them that way, telling himself he wanted things he could actually have, needing only the things he couldn't seem to find.
Nowadays, though, things are a little different. What Jon needs and what he wants are one and the same. He should maybe be scared of what happens if it gets fucked up, of what happens if he's left behind or if someday he's not enough.
He should maybe be scared. He's not. He’s taken care of and there’s no fear in letting Ryan, Spencer and Brendon do that for him.