Beating [Faster, Faster]
Title: Beating [Faster, Faster]
Author: Telis (theaerosolkid)
Rating: NC-17
Pairing: Brendon/Ryan, William/Spencer, Panic! GSF, implied William/Ryan/Pete/Spencer, implied Ryan/Spencer
Summary: Part of the cultverse -- cultverse. Direct follow-up to Fire On Your Tongue; Spencer sees the light, and is needed.
Word Count: 5496
Disclaimer: Fake, fake, fake.
A/N: Thanks to siren_mage, notshybutsly, and softlyforgotten for the beta help :) codependency is a great thing.
--
"Something happened in LA," Brent says uneasily, and Spencer rolls his eyes but can't quite quash the feeling of discomfort rising in his belly.
"Yes, something happened," he says slowly, "We hung out with Fall Out Boy and talked about the record."
"That's not what I mean, Spence," Brent says, frustrated, and Spencer relents. Because Brent is right. Spencer had woken up in the middle of the night to see Ryan, face shiny with sweat, crouched and rummaging though his knapsack. He heard a sharp soft cry of protest from the bathroom, sounding like Brendon's voice. Ryan had pressed one long finger to his lips, promised him, Later, and the next morning Brendon looked different.
It was like the first time Pete came out to Vegas. Ryan's father was in the hospital for the weekend and Spencer didn't see Ryan after they played for Pete on Thursday until that Monday, and he knew, he just fucking knew that Pete had stayed with him all weekend, and Ryan had a look his eyes. Rapture.
And Spencer trusted Ryan, he had faith, really he did, but he was wondering what happened in California. Because Ryan and Brendon were on a sort of wavelength that Spencer couldn't see, they were coming up ultra-violet, burning and crisping when you least expect it, they always understood each other better than they had any right to, but now it was. Something different. Now they were more intense, talking in hushed voices.
"It's no big deal," Spencer says with a confidence he doesn't feel.
--
Brendon and Ryan are screaming at each other again, and Spencer just leans back tiredly into the couch. He can hardly lift his arms, he's so exhausted. Twelve-hour days in the studio are horrifically taxing, especially for Spencer, who's never learned to do anything halfway. He is all or nothing in everything he does, and that's why despite the ache in his limbs and the distress in the back of his mind, looking at Brent, he's certain that he made the right choice. He trusts Ryan - not as blindly, perhaps, as he used to - and while he's getting mildly uncomfortable it's still only a mild, dull ache. He can wait.
Ever since that first time in Los Angeles, though, it's been different. Ever since the time that Spencer woke up in the morning to see Brendon sitting placidly at the breakfast table with that same Pete Wentz look in his eyes.
If he's honest, though, Spencer thinks about the fact that the Pete Wentz fire doesn't burn as steadily in Brendon as it does in Ryan. Brendon breaks down every now and again, fights with Ryan, fights like he's fighting now, and then they drive out to California and stay for the weekend, and Spencer wakes up when Ryan comes back with Pete and Brendon in the middle of the night, and in the morning everything is right again.
Right now, they can't do that. They're on a tight schedule in Maryland and Fall Out Boy have their own things to do. It's sort of frightening, watching Brendon veer sharply between worshipful obedience and snarky defiance, never predictable.
At least not to Spencer. So for Ryan has been able to anticipate Brendon's moods fairly accurately, adjust accordingly. He'll yell and shout at Brendon but he'll never let Brendon win, not even the smallest battle. He'll wait for Brendon to finish shrieking before he draws closer to him, murmuring in Brendon's ear, quieting him, Save your voice, Brendon, your voice, it's the key, we're nothing without that, I'm nothing without you, without your voice, and other things that Spencer does (not, does not) want to hear.
Spencer's waiting for something else, he's waiting for the time they go stay with Fall Out Boy and it's his own eyes that will burn with that Pete Wentz fire. Holy hellfire, he thinks.
For now, though, Brent is pretty sick; he caught some bug and has been hacking and coughing ever since. Ryan just shrugged and told him to think of the recording time as a vacation, get his rest, prep for the tour. Ryan told Brendon to play the bass parts for the album, and Spencer protested at first.
"Too much," he'd argued. "It's too much for Brendon, he's already playing guitar, singing, and playing the keyboard. You're putting too much on him."
"I'm not," Ryan told him. "I know his limits."
"Very true," Brendon said, voice sunny and chipper, and Spencer closed his eyes and waited for meaning to come.
--
"I'm just worried, okay," Ryan was saying to Brendon. Spencer shouldn't have been listening - Ryan counted on Spencer to keep his music turned up loud, to not listen in, but he couldn't help himself. The last few days had been worse than ever, with the fighting, and there wasn't any kind of a reprieve, not this time. They were at the breaking point.
"Fuck you," Brendon hisses. "This is- this is getting fucked up, Ryan, can't you see it? I can't do this, it's too much."
"It's not," Ryan argues. "Pete is counting on us."
"Pete's going to lead us to hell," Brendon says bitterly. "He's going to lead us right to the fires of hell, and we're going to burn."
"Oh, that's poetic," Ryan snaps, "Fucking trite."
"There's nothing cliché about damnation, you moron," Brendon snaps right back.
"Grow up already," Ryan says, voice full of derision. "Suck it up and deal. Remember what we're doing here, why it's important. The message."
"Yeah, well, I'm sorry if I can't see what's so important about 'a better kiss, a better fuck'," Brendon says angrily.
"I told you," Ryan says tightly. "Slip the message in when they're not looking. That's part one. Part two is still up here."
"I don't even know what the fuck you're saying any more," Brendon says and he sounds like he's about to cry.
"Shh, shh, shhhhhh," Ryan soothes, and Spencer hears the rustle of clothing, the slide of a zipper. "Come here, yeah, come here. It's all going to be fine."
The next morning Ryan and Brendon are hunched over the breakfast table reading from Ryan's notebook. Spencer cranes his head enough to see, BUILD GOD, THEN WE'LL TALK scribbled in Ryan's handwriting across the top of the page. There's a solid block of scrawled text, covering the whole page, no cross-outs or eraser marks, just bold solid writing, marching on and on, seamless.
"It's sort of the partner to 'Lying'," Ryan is explaining to Brendon. "See, the first part, it's, like, about the adolescent obsession with sex, placing it above everything else, how important it is, all that. It's talking about the superficial pain that comes from fucking around. It's self-absorbed. But this part-"
"Is about the real bad parts," Brendon interrupts, and shrinks under Ryan's glare. "Sorry. Sorry, go on. I'm listening."
"See," Ryan taps the paper, ignoring Spencer like he has been for the last few months. "See, this here, it's the same situation, infidelity, only this is a more honest picture. First, it's just ache and pain, back in 'Lying', but here, this is consequences of actions. A cautionary tale, right."
"Yeah," Brendon breathes. "Hey, I like that. We should finish with this song every night."
"We will," Ryan says steadily. "This is the last song I'm writing for the record."
"Eleven songs isn't that many," Spencer ventures, and Brendon glances up at him, almost as if he's surprised Spencer's there.
"Yeah, but I'm writing two instrumental pieces for tie-ins," Brendon says, like it's been decided for a long time. It probably has been, and Spencer feels a little colder than he'd like to.
"We're almost ready to get started," Ryan says, and Spencer loses his appetite.
--
The week before they left on tour, after the album was done, Pete and Patrick came out to stay with them and Spencer pretended to fall asleep after Brent did, heard them talking in hushed voices, heard them leave, heard them come back with Brendon stumbling and babbling under his breath, hours later, reeking of sex and sweat and terror, just like that one time.
Spencer had tensed in his sleeping bag, waited for something to happen, waited for Pete or Patrick or Ryan to notice that he was breathing loud and heavy, but all he heard was the splash of bathwater and the soft sucking sound of slow open-mouthed kisses.
--
It's a long time before anything real happens.
They're on tour with Academy when Beckett tosses a long loose limb around Spencer's shoulders. He's already started losing weight; food has never been less appetizing. He still doesn't know what's up, exactly, and it's starting to really get to him.
"You're looking good," Beckett says cheerfully. "You lost weight, man?"
"A little," Spencer says uneasily and Beckett nods his approval.
"You've got beautiful eyes," he tells Spencer, gently chucks him under the chin and gazes at him. Spencer feels something cold and pervasive slither through his blood, pool in his belly and clench at his spine. Anticipation.
That night while Brendon is getting trashed with the Academy's guitar tech Spencer follows Beckett - "call me William" - to an empty parking lot where there's a van waiting. Inside it's empty, just William and Spencer. William kisses him slowly, tenderly, and Spencer's never felt anything like this, never had someone stretch down alongside him and tell him he's gorgeous, whisper in his ear about how wonderful he is, how much talent and potential he has, how he's so important that Spencer doesn't even realize what's happening until it's too late, until he's naked and gasping, open and begging for it, begging for William to let him take it deeper, harder, faster, undone completely with only William's fingers inside him.
The whole time William is bent over him, sucking on his neck and murmuring things in his ears, and after the first time Spencer comes his words shift, lose their center, move to something darker and thicker and yes, this must be what happened to Brendon, yes, it's this, this is the secret, the message, this is what he's been chasing down for months and it feels so fucking right.
"You trusted Ryan, that's good, that's so good," William murmurs, working him to hardness again, nimble fingers playing along his length. "I'm so proud of you, Ryan's proud, Pete's proud, too, you're going to be so good at this. You're ready for the movement, aren't you? You'll keep Brendon in line, you'll watch after Ryan."
"Yes, yes," Spencer gasps and William pushes into him harder. Spencer throws his head back and pleads for more, and William gives it to him.
"You're so worthy," William whispers, "you understand it, you see to the crux of the matter. You can't let Brendon lose the light. You can't, Spencer, you need to watch him, he needs so much help, you know, you can help him. This is what's real, this is what you've been waiting all your life for."
"Yes," Spencer agrees, breathless. "This is it, isn't it, this is the beginning, the beginning and the end, yes," and William strokes fingers into him harder, harder, and Spencer arches his back, hard, feeling his belly tighten as he comes again.
It's then; Spencer sees that Ryan's been curled in the front seat of the van the whole time, Ryan and Pete sitting there placidly listening and watching him fall apart. Ryan bends over the seat, reaches out his hand, runs his fingers along the wet curve of Spencer's lips.
"I'm so proud," he whispers. "We're going to do this together, Spencer."
"Yes," Spencer hisses, surging forward, wanting more.
"Say thank you to William," Ryan instructs. "He did a great thing for you, tonight."
"Thank you," Spencer breathes. "Ohh, ohh, ohh, thank you," working his hips against William's fingers still inside him.
"You should pay him back, that's fair, isn't it," Ryan urges, and Spencer nods, enthusiastically, eager to please. Pete sits next to Ryan, in the driver's seat, and just nods his approval. He's watching, as intently as Ryan, and last night Spencer would've shied away from their scrutiny, would be embarrassed at his excess flesh, but now, now, he knows that this is just a starting point. This is just the beginning. He's beautiful now and he's going to be fucking gorgeous later, no doubt. None at all. He's always been afraid to try to be pretty because he isn't conventional, isn't even unconventionally conventional like BrendonRyanWilliamPetePatrickeveryfuckingbodyelse. But he sees, now, God, he sees that conventional isn't everything. He's worthy, he is.
William tugs his hand free, pulls Spencer up to his knees and fucks into his mouth, and Spencer swallows greedily around William's cock, taking him as deep as he can, no, deeper, deeper, "That's right, you can do better than that, always try to do better, there's always more," William promises him. "I'm going to come all over your pretty face, you're so beautiful. You're just starting, you know, there's so much you can do. Tighter clothes, lose some more weight. Spend time hardening your body, you'll see, it's a good idea. You're already so beautiful, imagine how you'll look with just a little time. You've got so much potential." Spencer gags a little but tries again, gamely, and William strokes his hair, "Yeah, that's good, so good. You should cut your hair shorter, get it out of your face, let us all see how gorgeous you are, you're so beautiful, should be a sin," and then he pulls away again, jerks his fist over his cock a few times and, as promised, comes over Spencer's face.
Spencer leans into it, feeling William's release hot on his skin, but they're not finished. There's so much more he needs to hear, and he can hear Ryan and Pete's whispers as they slither to the back of the van, their breath hot on his flesh.
--
The center doesn't hold.
It gets bad, then, not long after Spencer joins the fold. Brendon starts drinking too much, chasing the message from his head until it's all muddled and confused, losing sight of it all. Soon Ryan can't calm him down anymore, it's getting dangerous. He's losing focus. On top of all that, Brent is hardly noticing anything, Spencer wants him to be ready but is slowly coming to the realization that Brent may never be ripe for the message.
Spencer wants to help Brendon, really he does, but he's not sure how. He knows that Brendon is Ryan's, and though the night he received his epiphany in the back of the van, he buried his cock in Ryan's ass and felt Ryan come in an eager gush into his palm, he knows that it's different. Brendon is Ryan's Voice and nobody is allowed to touch him in that way, not even Spencer.
They haven't even talked about the fact that they're in this together, now, they haven't discussed, and while Spencer knows all this and more, he is also aware that Brendon isn't. Aware, that is. He's thrown off-kilter from all the drinking, and Spencer - for now - is content to wait and see if Ryan will be able to fix it, though he wishes he could be more actively helpful.
One night the guitar tech for Academy drags Brendon's unconscious body to Spencer and Ryan's hotel room, in the middle of the night. He's passed out and reeks of booze and vomit and something sour. Rotten. There are bruises purpling his neck and his lips are swollen and his knuckles are scraped and bloody and his skin is sallow and God knows what else, and Spencer's breath hitches. Someone got to Brendon, and anger flares up in Spencer's breast.
"I need Ryan," the guy says grimly.
"You can talk to me, I'm not waking him up," Spencer says, businesslike, and reaching for Brendon.
"No," the guy says, shifting Brendon's weight more firmly to his shoulders, and Spencer catches his gaze, and understands. This - he's one of the saved. He knows. Spencer nods, imperceptibly, almost, and steps back.
"What the fuck happened?" Spencer asks, kneeling by the bed and shoving Ryan awake, letting the tech gently drape Brendon's battered form over the mattress.
"What?" Ryan says groggily, and gasps when he sees Brendon. "Ohh, my fucking- no, no, no, no, no- "
"I think he's going to be fine," the tech says. "I'm Jon, by the way. William sent me."
Ryan reaches out, tentatively, strokes at the curve of Brendon's cheek. "What the fuck happened?" he says, wide awake and shocked.
"I don't know, exactly," Jon says, shaking his head. "I don't- he was with us and then William tried to- I guess he wanted. Well. He wanted him, you know, just a little time."
"Brendon's not allowed," Spencer tells Jon.
"He's mine," Ryan says, his voice throaty. "He's my Voice. Nobody gets him but me."
"That a two-way street?" Jon asks shrewdly, and Ryan scowls up at him before turning to Spencer.
"Get the first-aid kit," he says, and Spencer obeys.
"Anyway. He started freaking out, you know, he was pretty gone already and he ran off. Then. I don't know. William started getting worried, then, thinking maybe he'd done some damage, that Brendon might get himself hurt."
"Which he did, no thanks to you assholes," Ryan snaps, and Jon shrugs.
"But we found him outside this club, on his knees and there were these guys who- I don't know. One of them was- " he cuts himself off abruptly. "The important thing is, we got him back okay."
"I need to know what happened," Spencer says in the lull. Ryan's wiping Brendon's cuts, unbuttoning his shirt and hissing in pain, seeing the long red scratches down his flesh, taking in the bruises and swelling. Ryan bites his lip, and Spencer can see tears glistening in his eyes.
"No, you need to be worried about him," Jon corrects him. "He fought us when we were trying to help him, and he was babbling something about damnation and the fires of hell, false prophets, freaky shit."
"We need Pete, I think," Spencer says slowly.
"Probably not a bad idea," Jon says. "William says you should probably get working on Wilson, too, leave it too long and it'll be too late."
"He's not ready," Ryan says automatically. It's their response every time the subject of Brent comes up, He's not ready, and Spencer thinks, Well, maybe he never will be.
"You should be worried there, too," Jon says, and helps Ryan lift Brendon enough to slide his clothes off, cleaning his body.
Brendon mumbles something, voice raw.
"Shh," Ryan whispers, kissing at his cheek, "ohh, God, Brendon, I'm so sorry. This shouldn't have- "
"No, no, no, no, no, no," Brendon moans, trying in vain to turn from Ryan's touch. "No, no, no- " the rest is muffled as Ryan kisses him desperately.
"Shh, shh, shh, it's all going to be fine," Ryan soothes, eyes wild. "Trust me, Brendon, I need you, you're going to be okay, I won't let anything else happen to you."
"You let this happen," Brendon manages to choke out. His eyes are barely open, puffy and bloodshot.
Spencer and Jon exchange a glance, and Jon reaches for his phone, swiftly exiting the hotel room, calling Pete.
--
Pete and Patrick fly out immediately, William keeping Brent distracted as they rent a hotel room in a seedy part of a town about an hour away from the tour's stop that night. They have Brendon tied up, naked and writhing on the bed, still weak from his beating. Spencer knows what happened, now. New converts had found Brendon and wanted their time with him, wanted to feel salvation close-up, with touch and taste and smell instead of just hearing it, and hadn't wanted to listen to Brendon trying to explain that he belonged only to Ryan. They'd forced him, held him down and pried his mouth open, pulled his legs apart and used him brutally. Brendon shied away from touch, now, and wouldn't meet Ryan's eyes, was lost. Maybe for good.
Jon had stayed with them, under nobody's orders but with William's permission, nursing Brendon gently to health. Brendon had advanced to the point where he was letting Jon touch him even casually, but he didn't know that Jon was a part of the message, not yet.
"It's all going to be okay," Pete assures Ryan in low tones, sitting in the parked rental car outside the hotel while Patrick and Jon sit with Brendon, wait for them. Spencer's in the back seat, is allowed to listen but not speak. "But he needs more than you, now. He needs the others, too."
Ryan shakes his head sharply, "No, he's mine."
"You need to learn to share," Pete says, scowling a little in displeasure. "You're the only one who's that deep inside him, right, but do you see what happens when you tighten the leash too much? I warned you, Ryan, and look what happened. He might be lost forever."
"No," Ryan insists. "It'll be all right. We can save him. I need him, Pete."
"Yeah, well," Pete snaps, "think about that next time you try to chain him like a fucking animal." Ryan flinches, and listens to Pete.
"I'll do whatever will help," Spencer says immediately, and Pete nods.
"Brendon's got too much," he explains. "He needs more than just Ryan to ground him. He needs all of you, okay? Just- you and nobody else."
"Jon?" Ryan says skeptically. "He's with William."
"Not any more, he isn't," Pete says cryptically.
--
"Brendon," Patrick says softly, logically. Brendon moans and tries to squirm away from Patrick's soothing hands. "Listen to me."
"No," he gasps.
"I'm going to leave, now, me and Pete will, okay? I'm going to leave you with Jon and Spencer and Ryan and they're going to take such good care of you, all right? I want you to be really good for them."
Brendon sobs, his thin frame wracked with agony, body splayed with his limbs tied at the four corners of the bed. "Hurts," he gasps.
"I know, I know," Pete murmurs in his ear. "But they're going to take that all away, Ryan will, with Spencer and Jon, all right?"
They do leave, then, but they don't go far, just outside the room, standing guard. Spencer kneels between Brendon's spread legs, kissing his way up quivering muscles as Ryan curls up at Brendon's side, whispering into his ear, calming him gradually, working for hours as the beginnings of sunrise lick at the dark sky outside the window, while Jon laps at Brendon's chest and belly, licking and tasting him delicately.
"We're all here for you," Ryan promises, "I know you needed more than I could give you, really, and I'm so sorry, Brendon, I'm sorry, can you ever forgive me? I forgive you for running off like that, I'm sorry for what happened, it wasn't really your fault, you didn't know any better, you needed so much more than what I'd given you, but I'm here, now, and I'm giving you everything. Can you feel them? Feel Jon and Spencer, see how much they love you? We're going to help you spread the Word, with your music, with our music. Jon's ours now, and Spencer is, too, I bet you didn't know that. They're ours, and we're theirs, and we're going to share now, okay? We're going to be a family, and we're going to spread the message."
Brendon's whimpering now, but he's letting Ryan in, inch by inch, not shying away any more, and Spencer knows they're close.
Ryan kisses Brendon's mouth, then, dipping his tongue inside. "We're going to be so gentle with you, Brendon, and we're not going to do anything you don't want. I want to hear you ask for whatever it is you like and we'll give it to you, we're here to help you, here to make sure you stay on the path, make sure you stay saved. We're going to anoint you, mark you again, cleanse you of what they did, all over again, no matter how many times it takes. We're never going to leave you, we'll always be here, with you, inside you, and you're inside us, too, forever. Those bad ones, they're going to be punished for what they did to you, and you're going to be safe. So safe."
"Please," Brendon begs, choking, "please, I need, I want, I want to be good, I want to be saved, ohh, God, it hurts, I don't want to burn- "
"We won't let you," Ryan murmurs, "We're going to save you, we can and we will if you ask."
"Save me," Brendon gasps, arching up, straining against the tape, and Ryan nods at Jon, who rips the tape free. Brendon howls but doesn't resist, lets Spencer roll him over gently and stroke slick fingers around his entrance, probe inside, gently, getting him wet, getting him ready.
Ryan just nuzzles at Brendon's hair, Jon presses kisses to his shoulder blades, laving him with attention, letting him lie flat against the bed. "Jon first," Spencer says, suddenly, and Ryan looks up. He considers for a moment, then leans across Brendon's prone form and kisses Jon's mouth.
"Yes, that's right. Jon will take you first, all right, Brendon?" and Brendon whimpers, nodding, eyes open wide and wanting.
Jon crawls over, lets Spencer coat his cock with lube, stretches out over Brendon's body, breathing heavy in his ear as he slowly lines himself up and pushes in, tenderly. Brendon whines low in his throat, bucks back up into Jon, and Jon starts thrusting steadily, rocking his hips and sucking at Brendon's skin, even as Ryan keeps murmuring. Spencer strokes up and down Brendon's side, feeling his ribs, and Brendon shudders with pleasure.
For a long time, what feels like an eternity, Jon keeps the pace, thrusting smoothly into Brendon's ass while Ryan just keeps whispering and Spencer keeps touching. Slowly, though, Jon speeds up, gets rougher, asks Brendon, "You're all right? See? See how nice this is?"
"Thank you, thank you," he cries out, fingers scrabbling for something to grip and Spencer grips his wrists together. Brendon laces his fingers, flesh going white with stress as he pushes back against Jon.
"You're going to feel me, now, feel me inside," Jon murmurs, and Brendon breathes heavier than ever, drawing in harsh breaths until Jon groans low and hard, coming to a stuttering stop as he comes deep in Brendon's ass. He pulls out and guides Spencer behind Brendon, they don't bother with lube, Brendon's so stretched.
"Spencer, please," Brendon begs.
"Please what?" Spencer asks quietly. He's so hard it's almost physically painful, but he knows what he's doing is important, this is their last chance to save Brendon and he's not going to fuck it up.
"Please, I need- I need you inside, please, please Spencer?"
"Ask him to fuck you," Ryan instructs, eyes bright. "Beg for it, plead. I want to hear you gag because you need it so badly. Ask him to fuck you hard, Brendon, you need it, I know you do. You need it rough and fast and hard, I know you do, don't worry, this is safe. You can ask for what you need, here, because we're going to give it to you, all that and more."
"Please fuck me, Spence," Brendon manages, meeting Ryan's gaze and keeping it as Jon gently cards blunt fingers through his sweat-soaked hair.
"Hands and knees, then," Spencer tells him, and Brendon scrambles to obey, arching his back a little, shivering because he just needs it that much. Ryan's whispering again and Spencer wishes briefly that he had Ryan's gift with words, but the wish dies swiftly within him, he has something else, a different skill. Ryan's going to save the world with writing words, Brendon's going to slip the message into the collective consciousness, and he and Jon are going to make sure everything goes according to plan. They're going to keep Brendon and Ryan centered, they're going to orbit around them like celestial bodies, massive in their importance and gravity.
Spencer pushes inside faster than Jon did, Brendon's ready for it, now, and he practically screams as Spencer pumps rhythmically, fucking into him and gripping Brendon's hips, pulling him back onto his cock, jerking him back and forth almost viciously, and Brendon just wails and begs for it harderfasterdeeperharderfasterdeeper.
He doesn't last nearly as long as Jon did, even stretched and used Brendon's so tight around him and he's not used to this, not used to being given things like beautiful, confused Brendon, growing stronger in his conviction with each slam of Spencer's hips, and he digs his fingernails into the flesh of Brendon's ass, warning him, grunting and coming in a fast hard rush, his semen mingling with Jon's, deep inside Brendon.
"Ryan," Brendon croaks, and for the first time all night Ryan stops feeding the truths of the movement to Brendon.
"What do you need?" Ryan asks gently, and Brendon kisses him hard.
"I need you," Brendon says, biting Ryan's lip. "I need. I need to fuck you, need to be inside."
"I know," Ryan breathes. "Ohh, Brendon, don't you see, I need you, too, I can't lose you, promise me you'll never leave."
"I promise," Brendon says immediately, pushing Ryan down to his back and taking the lube that Jon offers, spreading Ryan's legs and crouching down between them. He tilts Ryan's hips upwards, slips Ryan's legs over his shoulders and squeezes cold lube over his entrance, pushing fingers inside and feeling him before slicking up his cock and pressing just the tip inside.
Ryan tightens his thighs around Brendon, throws his head back and begs for it in a loud clear voice, rough with want and lust and need. Jon leans over to Spencer and kisses him, palms his dick and works him to hardness again. Automatically, Spencer's hands go to Jon, returning the favour, and they lie there, tangled and pleasing each other, watching Brendon fuck Ryan hard, shaking the bed with the force of his thrusts as Ryan arches up into it, still begging for more.
It's just Brendon and Ryan now, Spencer and Jon have faded to background noise, this is what Brendon really needs, he needs them to keep him grounded and sure of himself so he can focus on Ryan, and Spencer feels wildly grateful, that he's allowed to observe this, that he's allowed to help them, that he's allowed to stay and-
Ryan's screaming out Brendon's name now, convulsing beneath him as Brendon bucks his hips, coming over Brendon's belly, bent nearly in half. Ryan barely manages to catch his breath, Brendon still fucking him through it, before he flips them over and rides Brendon, bouncing up and down, bracing his long delicate fingers against Brendon's chest. Following Jon's lead, Spencer crawls to them, staring at Jon across Brendon's body, and Brendon reaches out each of his hands, takes them each in his curled fingers, strokes up and down, erratic with Ryan still working his hips in tight circles. Jon chokes and curses as Brendon tightens his hand and he bends over more, spurting over Brendon's face. The sight is so compelling, watching Jon shudder with his release that Spencer loses it, spills on the other side of Brendon's face and Brendon leans into it, keeps his eyes open and basks in the heat of it.
Brendon's still jerking below Ryan, taking his hands from Jon and Spencer's cocks and grabbing at Ryan, desperately, surging up and pinning Ryan to the bed, pounding into him until he shouts out and comes, collapsing on top of Ryan, breathing heavily.
"Safe," Ryan emphasizes, and Brendon agrees, sucking on his collarbone.
--
"I'm so glad," Brendon murmurs, nuzzling up against Spencer. "I'm so glad that you didn't give up on me, thank you so much. I get it now, more than ever. I thought I did, before, but. No. I understand now. I'm sorry I was so slow."
"It's okay," Spencer assures him. "We got you there, in the end."
"I'm excited," Brendon whispers. "Excited that we get Jon, now."
"Yeah," Spencer says quietly. "God, we have so much work to do."
"Idle hands, man," Brendon says cheekily, nosing at Spencer's jaw. "I'm not scared."
"Me either," Spencer agrees.
"We leave in ten," Ryan says, speaking too loudly with headphones shoved in his ears. Brent's tapping out a lazy beat next to him, his own music turned so loud Spencer can hear it almost perfectly.
He meets Brendon's gaze again, and Brendon nods. They're all on the same page, now. Brent is never going to understand, and it's time to do something about that.
Soon, anyway.
Author: Telis (theaerosolkid)
Rating: NC-17
Pairing: Brendon/Ryan, William/Spencer, Panic! GSF, implied William/Ryan/Pete/Spencer, implied Ryan/Spencer
Summary: Part of the cultverse -- cultverse. Direct follow-up to Fire On Your Tongue; Spencer sees the light, and is needed.
Word Count: 5496
Disclaimer: Fake, fake, fake.
A/N: Thanks to siren_mage, notshybutsly, and softlyforgotten for the beta help :) codependency is a great thing.
--
"Something happened in LA," Brent says uneasily, and Spencer rolls his eyes but can't quite quash the feeling of discomfort rising in his belly.
"Yes, something happened," he says slowly, "We hung out with Fall Out Boy and talked about the record."
"That's not what I mean, Spence," Brent says, frustrated, and Spencer relents. Because Brent is right. Spencer had woken up in the middle of the night to see Ryan, face shiny with sweat, crouched and rummaging though his knapsack. He heard a sharp soft cry of protest from the bathroom, sounding like Brendon's voice. Ryan had pressed one long finger to his lips, promised him, Later, and the next morning Brendon looked different.
It was like the first time Pete came out to Vegas. Ryan's father was in the hospital for the weekend and Spencer didn't see Ryan after they played for Pete on Thursday until that Monday, and he knew, he just fucking knew that Pete had stayed with him all weekend, and Ryan had a look his eyes. Rapture.
And Spencer trusted Ryan, he had faith, really he did, but he was wondering what happened in California. Because Ryan and Brendon were on a sort of wavelength that Spencer couldn't see, they were coming up ultra-violet, burning and crisping when you least expect it, they always understood each other better than they had any right to, but now it was. Something different. Now they were more intense, talking in hushed voices.
"It's no big deal," Spencer says with a confidence he doesn't feel.
--
Brendon and Ryan are screaming at each other again, and Spencer just leans back tiredly into the couch. He can hardly lift his arms, he's so exhausted. Twelve-hour days in the studio are horrifically taxing, especially for Spencer, who's never learned to do anything halfway. He is all or nothing in everything he does, and that's why despite the ache in his limbs and the distress in the back of his mind, looking at Brent, he's certain that he made the right choice. He trusts Ryan - not as blindly, perhaps, as he used to - and while he's getting mildly uncomfortable it's still only a mild, dull ache. He can wait.
Ever since that first time in Los Angeles, though, it's been different. Ever since the time that Spencer woke up in the morning to see Brendon sitting placidly at the breakfast table with that same Pete Wentz look in his eyes.
If he's honest, though, Spencer thinks about the fact that the Pete Wentz fire doesn't burn as steadily in Brendon as it does in Ryan. Brendon breaks down every now and again, fights with Ryan, fights like he's fighting now, and then they drive out to California and stay for the weekend, and Spencer wakes up when Ryan comes back with Pete and Brendon in the middle of the night, and in the morning everything is right again.
Right now, they can't do that. They're on a tight schedule in Maryland and Fall Out Boy have their own things to do. It's sort of frightening, watching Brendon veer sharply between worshipful obedience and snarky defiance, never predictable.
At least not to Spencer. So for Ryan has been able to anticipate Brendon's moods fairly accurately, adjust accordingly. He'll yell and shout at Brendon but he'll never let Brendon win, not even the smallest battle. He'll wait for Brendon to finish shrieking before he draws closer to him, murmuring in Brendon's ear, quieting him, Save your voice, Brendon, your voice, it's the key, we're nothing without that, I'm nothing without you, without your voice, and other things that Spencer does (not, does not) want to hear.
Spencer's waiting for something else, he's waiting for the time they go stay with Fall Out Boy and it's his own eyes that will burn with that Pete Wentz fire. Holy hellfire, he thinks.
For now, though, Brent is pretty sick; he caught some bug and has been hacking and coughing ever since. Ryan just shrugged and told him to think of the recording time as a vacation, get his rest, prep for the tour. Ryan told Brendon to play the bass parts for the album, and Spencer protested at first.
"Too much," he'd argued. "It's too much for Brendon, he's already playing guitar, singing, and playing the keyboard. You're putting too much on him."
"I'm not," Ryan told him. "I know his limits."
"Very true," Brendon said, voice sunny and chipper, and Spencer closed his eyes and waited for meaning to come.
--
"I'm just worried, okay," Ryan was saying to Brendon. Spencer shouldn't have been listening - Ryan counted on Spencer to keep his music turned up loud, to not listen in, but he couldn't help himself. The last few days had been worse than ever, with the fighting, and there wasn't any kind of a reprieve, not this time. They were at the breaking point.
"Fuck you," Brendon hisses. "This is- this is getting fucked up, Ryan, can't you see it? I can't do this, it's too much."
"It's not," Ryan argues. "Pete is counting on us."
"Pete's going to lead us to hell," Brendon says bitterly. "He's going to lead us right to the fires of hell, and we're going to burn."
"Oh, that's poetic," Ryan snaps, "Fucking trite."
"There's nothing cliché about damnation, you moron," Brendon snaps right back.
"Grow up already," Ryan says, voice full of derision. "Suck it up and deal. Remember what we're doing here, why it's important. The message."
"Yeah, well, I'm sorry if I can't see what's so important about 'a better kiss, a better fuck'," Brendon says angrily.
"I told you," Ryan says tightly. "Slip the message in when they're not looking. That's part one. Part two is still up here."
"I don't even know what the fuck you're saying any more," Brendon says and he sounds like he's about to cry.
"Shh, shh, shhhhhh," Ryan soothes, and Spencer hears the rustle of clothing, the slide of a zipper. "Come here, yeah, come here. It's all going to be fine."
The next morning Ryan and Brendon are hunched over the breakfast table reading from Ryan's notebook. Spencer cranes his head enough to see, BUILD GOD, THEN WE'LL TALK scribbled in Ryan's handwriting across the top of the page. There's a solid block of scrawled text, covering the whole page, no cross-outs or eraser marks, just bold solid writing, marching on and on, seamless.
"It's sort of the partner to 'Lying'," Ryan is explaining to Brendon. "See, the first part, it's, like, about the adolescent obsession with sex, placing it above everything else, how important it is, all that. It's talking about the superficial pain that comes from fucking around. It's self-absorbed. But this part-"
"Is about the real bad parts," Brendon interrupts, and shrinks under Ryan's glare. "Sorry. Sorry, go on. I'm listening."
"See," Ryan taps the paper, ignoring Spencer like he has been for the last few months. "See, this here, it's the same situation, infidelity, only this is a more honest picture. First, it's just ache and pain, back in 'Lying', but here, this is consequences of actions. A cautionary tale, right."
"Yeah," Brendon breathes. "Hey, I like that. We should finish with this song every night."
"We will," Ryan says steadily. "This is the last song I'm writing for the record."
"Eleven songs isn't that many," Spencer ventures, and Brendon glances up at him, almost as if he's surprised Spencer's there.
"Yeah, but I'm writing two instrumental pieces for tie-ins," Brendon says, like it's been decided for a long time. It probably has been, and Spencer feels a little colder than he'd like to.
"We're almost ready to get started," Ryan says, and Spencer loses his appetite.
--
The week before they left on tour, after the album was done, Pete and Patrick came out to stay with them and Spencer pretended to fall asleep after Brent did, heard them talking in hushed voices, heard them leave, heard them come back with Brendon stumbling and babbling under his breath, hours later, reeking of sex and sweat and terror, just like that one time.
Spencer had tensed in his sleeping bag, waited for something to happen, waited for Pete or Patrick or Ryan to notice that he was breathing loud and heavy, but all he heard was the splash of bathwater and the soft sucking sound of slow open-mouthed kisses.
--
It's a long time before anything real happens.
They're on tour with Academy when Beckett tosses a long loose limb around Spencer's shoulders. He's already started losing weight; food has never been less appetizing. He still doesn't know what's up, exactly, and it's starting to really get to him.
"You're looking good," Beckett says cheerfully. "You lost weight, man?"
"A little," Spencer says uneasily and Beckett nods his approval.
"You've got beautiful eyes," he tells Spencer, gently chucks him under the chin and gazes at him. Spencer feels something cold and pervasive slither through his blood, pool in his belly and clench at his spine. Anticipation.
That night while Brendon is getting trashed with the Academy's guitar tech Spencer follows Beckett - "call me William" - to an empty parking lot where there's a van waiting. Inside it's empty, just William and Spencer. William kisses him slowly, tenderly, and Spencer's never felt anything like this, never had someone stretch down alongside him and tell him he's gorgeous, whisper in his ear about how wonderful he is, how much talent and potential he has, how he's so important that Spencer doesn't even realize what's happening until it's too late, until he's naked and gasping, open and begging for it, begging for William to let him take it deeper, harder, faster, undone completely with only William's fingers inside him.
The whole time William is bent over him, sucking on his neck and murmuring things in his ears, and after the first time Spencer comes his words shift, lose their center, move to something darker and thicker and yes, this must be what happened to Brendon, yes, it's this, this is the secret, the message, this is what he's been chasing down for months and it feels so fucking right.
"You trusted Ryan, that's good, that's so good," William murmurs, working him to hardness again, nimble fingers playing along his length. "I'm so proud of you, Ryan's proud, Pete's proud, too, you're going to be so good at this. You're ready for the movement, aren't you? You'll keep Brendon in line, you'll watch after Ryan."
"Yes, yes," Spencer gasps and William pushes into him harder. Spencer throws his head back and pleads for more, and William gives it to him.
"You're so worthy," William whispers, "you understand it, you see to the crux of the matter. You can't let Brendon lose the light. You can't, Spencer, you need to watch him, he needs so much help, you know, you can help him. This is what's real, this is what you've been waiting all your life for."
"Yes," Spencer agrees, breathless. "This is it, isn't it, this is the beginning, the beginning and the end, yes," and William strokes fingers into him harder, harder, and Spencer arches his back, hard, feeling his belly tighten as he comes again.
It's then; Spencer sees that Ryan's been curled in the front seat of the van the whole time, Ryan and Pete sitting there placidly listening and watching him fall apart. Ryan bends over the seat, reaches out his hand, runs his fingers along the wet curve of Spencer's lips.
"I'm so proud," he whispers. "We're going to do this together, Spencer."
"Yes," Spencer hisses, surging forward, wanting more.
"Say thank you to William," Ryan instructs. "He did a great thing for you, tonight."
"Thank you," Spencer breathes. "Ohh, ohh, ohh, thank you," working his hips against William's fingers still inside him.
"You should pay him back, that's fair, isn't it," Ryan urges, and Spencer nods, enthusiastically, eager to please. Pete sits next to Ryan, in the driver's seat, and just nods his approval. He's watching, as intently as Ryan, and last night Spencer would've shied away from their scrutiny, would be embarrassed at his excess flesh, but now, now, he knows that this is just a starting point. This is just the beginning. He's beautiful now and he's going to be fucking gorgeous later, no doubt. None at all. He's always been afraid to try to be pretty because he isn't conventional, isn't even unconventionally conventional like BrendonRyanWilliamPetePatrickeveryfuckingbodyelse. But he sees, now, God, he sees that conventional isn't everything. He's worthy, he is.
William tugs his hand free, pulls Spencer up to his knees and fucks into his mouth, and Spencer swallows greedily around William's cock, taking him as deep as he can, no, deeper, deeper, "That's right, you can do better than that, always try to do better, there's always more," William promises him. "I'm going to come all over your pretty face, you're so beautiful. You're just starting, you know, there's so much you can do. Tighter clothes, lose some more weight. Spend time hardening your body, you'll see, it's a good idea. You're already so beautiful, imagine how you'll look with just a little time. You've got so much potential." Spencer gags a little but tries again, gamely, and William strokes his hair, "Yeah, that's good, so good. You should cut your hair shorter, get it out of your face, let us all see how gorgeous you are, you're so beautiful, should be a sin," and then he pulls away again, jerks his fist over his cock a few times and, as promised, comes over Spencer's face.
Spencer leans into it, feeling William's release hot on his skin, but they're not finished. There's so much more he needs to hear, and he can hear Ryan and Pete's whispers as they slither to the back of the van, their breath hot on his flesh.
--
The center doesn't hold.
It gets bad, then, not long after Spencer joins the fold. Brendon starts drinking too much, chasing the message from his head until it's all muddled and confused, losing sight of it all. Soon Ryan can't calm him down anymore, it's getting dangerous. He's losing focus. On top of all that, Brent is hardly noticing anything, Spencer wants him to be ready but is slowly coming to the realization that Brent may never be ripe for the message.
Spencer wants to help Brendon, really he does, but he's not sure how. He knows that Brendon is Ryan's, and though the night he received his epiphany in the back of the van, he buried his cock in Ryan's ass and felt Ryan come in an eager gush into his palm, he knows that it's different. Brendon is Ryan's Voice and nobody is allowed to touch him in that way, not even Spencer.
They haven't even talked about the fact that they're in this together, now, they haven't discussed, and while Spencer knows all this and more, he is also aware that Brendon isn't. Aware, that is. He's thrown off-kilter from all the drinking, and Spencer - for now - is content to wait and see if Ryan will be able to fix it, though he wishes he could be more actively helpful.
One night the guitar tech for Academy drags Brendon's unconscious body to Spencer and Ryan's hotel room, in the middle of the night. He's passed out and reeks of booze and vomit and something sour. Rotten. There are bruises purpling his neck and his lips are swollen and his knuckles are scraped and bloody and his skin is sallow and God knows what else, and Spencer's breath hitches. Someone got to Brendon, and anger flares up in Spencer's breast.
"I need Ryan," the guy says grimly.
"You can talk to me, I'm not waking him up," Spencer says, businesslike, and reaching for Brendon.
"No," the guy says, shifting Brendon's weight more firmly to his shoulders, and Spencer catches his gaze, and understands. This - he's one of the saved. He knows. Spencer nods, imperceptibly, almost, and steps back.
"What the fuck happened?" Spencer asks, kneeling by the bed and shoving Ryan awake, letting the tech gently drape Brendon's battered form over the mattress.
"What?" Ryan says groggily, and gasps when he sees Brendon. "Ohh, my fucking- no, no, no, no, no- "
"I think he's going to be fine," the tech says. "I'm Jon, by the way. William sent me."
Ryan reaches out, tentatively, strokes at the curve of Brendon's cheek. "What the fuck happened?" he says, wide awake and shocked.
"I don't know, exactly," Jon says, shaking his head. "I don't- he was with us and then William tried to- I guess he wanted. Well. He wanted him, you know, just a little time."
"Brendon's not allowed," Spencer tells Jon.
"He's mine," Ryan says, his voice throaty. "He's my Voice. Nobody gets him but me."
"That a two-way street?" Jon asks shrewdly, and Ryan scowls up at him before turning to Spencer.
"Get the first-aid kit," he says, and Spencer obeys.
"Anyway. He started freaking out, you know, he was pretty gone already and he ran off. Then. I don't know. William started getting worried, then, thinking maybe he'd done some damage, that Brendon might get himself hurt."
"Which he did, no thanks to you assholes," Ryan snaps, and Jon shrugs.
"But we found him outside this club, on his knees and there were these guys who- I don't know. One of them was- " he cuts himself off abruptly. "The important thing is, we got him back okay."
"I need to know what happened," Spencer says in the lull. Ryan's wiping Brendon's cuts, unbuttoning his shirt and hissing in pain, seeing the long red scratches down his flesh, taking in the bruises and swelling. Ryan bites his lip, and Spencer can see tears glistening in his eyes.
"No, you need to be worried about him," Jon corrects him. "He fought us when we were trying to help him, and he was babbling something about damnation and the fires of hell, false prophets, freaky shit."
"We need Pete, I think," Spencer says slowly.
"Probably not a bad idea," Jon says. "William says you should probably get working on Wilson, too, leave it too long and it'll be too late."
"He's not ready," Ryan says automatically. It's their response every time the subject of Brent comes up, He's not ready, and Spencer thinks, Well, maybe he never will be.
"You should be worried there, too," Jon says, and helps Ryan lift Brendon enough to slide his clothes off, cleaning his body.
Brendon mumbles something, voice raw.
"Shh," Ryan whispers, kissing at his cheek, "ohh, God, Brendon, I'm so sorry. This shouldn't have- "
"No, no, no, no, no, no," Brendon moans, trying in vain to turn from Ryan's touch. "No, no, no- " the rest is muffled as Ryan kisses him desperately.
"Shh, shh, shh, it's all going to be fine," Ryan soothes, eyes wild. "Trust me, Brendon, I need you, you're going to be okay, I won't let anything else happen to you."
"You let this happen," Brendon manages to choke out. His eyes are barely open, puffy and bloodshot.
Spencer and Jon exchange a glance, and Jon reaches for his phone, swiftly exiting the hotel room, calling Pete.
--
Pete and Patrick fly out immediately, William keeping Brent distracted as they rent a hotel room in a seedy part of a town about an hour away from the tour's stop that night. They have Brendon tied up, naked and writhing on the bed, still weak from his beating. Spencer knows what happened, now. New converts had found Brendon and wanted their time with him, wanted to feel salvation close-up, with touch and taste and smell instead of just hearing it, and hadn't wanted to listen to Brendon trying to explain that he belonged only to Ryan. They'd forced him, held him down and pried his mouth open, pulled his legs apart and used him brutally. Brendon shied away from touch, now, and wouldn't meet Ryan's eyes, was lost. Maybe for good.
Jon had stayed with them, under nobody's orders but with William's permission, nursing Brendon gently to health. Brendon had advanced to the point where he was letting Jon touch him even casually, but he didn't know that Jon was a part of the message, not yet.
"It's all going to be okay," Pete assures Ryan in low tones, sitting in the parked rental car outside the hotel while Patrick and Jon sit with Brendon, wait for them. Spencer's in the back seat, is allowed to listen but not speak. "But he needs more than you, now. He needs the others, too."
Ryan shakes his head sharply, "No, he's mine."
"You need to learn to share," Pete says, scowling a little in displeasure. "You're the only one who's that deep inside him, right, but do you see what happens when you tighten the leash too much? I warned you, Ryan, and look what happened. He might be lost forever."
"No," Ryan insists. "It'll be all right. We can save him. I need him, Pete."
"Yeah, well," Pete snaps, "think about that next time you try to chain him like a fucking animal." Ryan flinches, and listens to Pete.
"I'll do whatever will help," Spencer says immediately, and Pete nods.
"Brendon's got too much," he explains. "He needs more than just Ryan to ground him. He needs all of you, okay? Just- you and nobody else."
"Jon?" Ryan says skeptically. "He's with William."
"Not any more, he isn't," Pete says cryptically.
--
"Brendon," Patrick says softly, logically. Brendon moans and tries to squirm away from Patrick's soothing hands. "Listen to me."
"No," he gasps.
"I'm going to leave, now, me and Pete will, okay? I'm going to leave you with Jon and Spencer and Ryan and they're going to take such good care of you, all right? I want you to be really good for them."
Brendon sobs, his thin frame wracked with agony, body splayed with his limbs tied at the four corners of the bed. "Hurts," he gasps.
"I know, I know," Pete murmurs in his ear. "But they're going to take that all away, Ryan will, with Spencer and Jon, all right?"
They do leave, then, but they don't go far, just outside the room, standing guard. Spencer kneels between Brendon's spread legs, kissing his way up quivering muscles as Ryan curls up at Brendon's side, whispering into his ear, calming him gradually, working for hours as the beginnings of sunrise lick at the dark sky outside the window, while Jon laps at Brendon's chest and belly, licking and tasting him delicately.
"We're all here for you," Ryan promises, "I know you needed more than I could give you, really, and I'm so sorry, Brendon, I'm sorry, can you ever forgive me? I forgive you for running off like that, I'm sorry for what happened, it wasn't really your fault, you didn't know any better, you needed so much more than what I'd given you, but I'm here, now, and I'm giving you everything. Can you feel them? Feel Jon and Spencer, see how much they love you? We're going to help you spread the Word, with your music, with our music. Jon's ours now, and Spencer is, too, I bet you didn't know that. They're ours, and we're theirs, and we're going to share now, okay? We're going to be a family, and we're going to spread the message."
Brendon's whimpering now, but he's letting Ryan in, inch by inch, not shying away any more, and Spencer knows they're close.
Ryan kisses Brendon's mouth, then, dipping his tongue inside. "We're going to be so gentle with you, Brendon, and we're not going to do anything you don't want. I want to hear you ask for whatever it is you like and we'll give it to you, we're here to help you, here to make sure you stay on the path, make sure you stay saved. We're going to anoint you, mark you again, cleanse you of what they did, all over again, no matter how many times it takes. We're never going to leave you, we'll always be here, with you, inside you, and you're inside us, too, forever. Those bad ones, they're going to be punished for what they did to you, and you're going to be safe. So safe."
"Please," Brendon begs, choking, "please, I need, I want, I want to be good, I want to be saved, ohh, God, it hurts, I don't want to burn- "
"We won't let you," Ryan murmurs, "We're going to save you, we can and we will if you ask."
"Save me," Brendon gasps, arching up, straining against the tape, and Ryan nods at Jon, who rips the tape free. Brendon howls but doesn't resist, lets Spencer roll him over gently and stroke slick fingers around his entrance, probe inside, gently, getting him wet, getting him ready.
Ryan just nuzzles at Brendon's hair, Jon presses kisses to his shoulder blades, laving him with attention, letting him lie flat against the bed. "Jon first," Spencer says, suddenly, and Ryan looks up. He considers for a moment, then leans across Brendon's prone form and kisses Jon's mouth.
"Yes, that's right. Jon will take you first, all right, Brendon?" and Brendon whimpers, nodding, eyes open wide and wanting.
Jon crawls over, lets Spencer coat his cock with lube, stretches out over Brendon's body, breathing heavy in his ear as he slowly lines himself up and pushes in, tenderly. Brendon whines low in his throat, bucks back up into Jon, and Jon starts thrusting steadily, rocking his hips and sucking at Brendon's skin, even as Ryan keeps murmuring. Spencer strokes up and down Brendon's side, feeling his ribs, and Brendon shudders with pleasure.
For a long time, what feels like an eternity, Jon keeps the pace, thrusting smoothly into Brendon's ass while Ryan just keeps whispering and Spencer keeps touching. Slowly, though, Jon speeds up, gets rougher, asks Brendon, "You're all right? See? See how nice this is?"
"Thank you, thank you," he cries out, fingers scrabbling for something to grip and Spencer grips his wrists together. Brendon laces his fingers, flesh going white with stress as he pushes back against Jon.
"You're going to feel me, now, feel me inside," Jon murmurs, and Brendon breathes heavier than ever, drawing in harsh breaths until Jon groans low and hard, coming to a stuttering stop as he comes deep in Brendon's ass. He pulls out and guides Spencer behind Brendon, they don't bother with lube, Brendon's so stretched.
"Spencer, please," Brendon begs.
"Please what?" Spencer asks quietly. He's so hard it's almost physically painful, but he knows what he's doing is important, this is their last chance to save Brendon and he's not going to fuck it up.
"Please, I need- I need you inside, please, please Spencer?"
"Ask him to fuck you," Ryan instructs, eyes bright. "Beg for it, plead. I want to hear you gag because you need it so badly. Ask him to fuck you hard, Brendon, you need it, I know you do. You need it rough and fast and hard, I know you do, don't worry, this is safe. You can ask for what you need, here, because we're going to give it to you, all that and more."
"Please fuck me, Spence," Brendon manages, meeting Ryan's gaze and keeping it as Jon gently cards blunt fingers through his sweat-soaked hair.
"Hands and knees, then," Spencer tells him, and Brendon scrambles to obey, arching his back a little, shivering because he just needs it that much. Ryan's whispering again and Spencer wishes briefly that he had Ryan's gift with words, but the wish dies swiftly within him, he has something else, a different skill. Ryan's going to save the world with writing words, Brendon's going to slip the message into the collective consciousness, and he and Jon are going to make sure everything goes according to plan. They're going to keep Brendon and Ryan centered, they're going to orbit around them like celestial bodies, massive in their importance and gravity.
Spencer pushes inside faster than Jon did, Brendon's ready for it, now, and he practically screams as Spencer pumps rhythmically, fucking into him and gripping Brendon's hips, pulling him back onto his cock, jerking him back and forth almost viciously, and Brendon just wails and begs for it harderfasterdeeperharderfasterdeeper.
He doesn't last nearly as long as Jon did, even stretched and used Brendon's so tight around him and he's not used to this, not used to being given things like beautiful, confused Brendon, growing stronger in his conviction with each slam of Spencer's hips, and he digs his fingernails into the flesh of Brendon's ass, warning him, grunting and coming in a fast hard rush, his semen mingling with Jon's, deep inside Brendon.
"Ryan," Brendon croaks, and for the first time all night Ryan stops feeding the truths of the movement to Brendon.
"What do you need?" Ryan asks gently, and Brendon kisses him hard.
"I need you," Brendon says, biting Ryan's lip. "I need. I need to fuck you, need to be inside."
"I know," Ryan breathes. "Ohh, Brendon, don't you see, I need you, too, I can't lose you, promise me you'll never leave."
"I promise," Brendon says immediately, pushing Ryan down to his back and taking the lube that Jon offers, spreading Ryan's legs and crouching down between them. He tilts Ryan's hips upwards, slips Ryan's legs over his shoulders and squeezes cold lube over his entrance, pushing fingers inside and feeling him before slicking up his cock and pressing just the tip inside.
Ryan tightens his thighs around Brendon, throws his head back and begs for it in a loud clear voice, rough with want and lust and need. Jon leans over to Spencer and kisses him, palms his dick and works him to hardness again. Automatically, Spencer's hands go to Jon, returning the favour, and they lie there, tangled and pleasing each other, watching Brendon fuck Ryan hard, shaking the bed with the force of his thrusts as Ryan arches up into it, still begging for more.
It's just Brendon and Ryan now, Spencer and Jon have faded to background noise, this is what Brendon really needs, he needs them to keep him grounded and sure of himself so he can focus on Ryan, and Spencer feels wildly grateful, that he's allowed to observe this, that he's allowed to help them, that he's allowed to stay and-
Ryan's screaming out Brendon's name now, convulsing beneath him as Brendon bucks his hips, coming over Brendon's belly, bent nearly in half. Ryan barely manages to catch his breath, Brendon still fucking him through it, before he flips them over and rides Brendon, bouncing up and down, bracing his long delicate fingers against Brendon's chest. Following Jon's lead, Spencer crawls to them, staring at Jon across Brendon's body, and Brendon reaches out each of his hands, takes them each in his curled fingers, strokes up and down, erratic with Ryan still working his hips in tight circles. Jon chokes and curses as Brendon tightens his hand and he bends over more, spurting over Brendon's face. The sight is so compelling, watching Jon shudder with his release that Spencer loses it, spills on the other side of Brendon's face and Brendon leans into it, keeps his eyes open and basks in the heat of it.
Brendon's still jerking below Ryan, taking his hands from Jon and Spencer's cocks and grabbing at Ryan, desperately, surging up and pinning Ryan to the bed, pounding into him until he shouts out and comes, collapsing on top of Ryan, breathing heavily.
"Safe," Ryan emphasizes, and Brendon agrees, sucking on his collarbone.
--
"I'm so glad," Brendon murmurs, nuzzling up against Spencer. "I'm so glad that you didn't give up on me, thank you so much. I get it now, more than ever. I thought I did, before, but. No. I understand now. I'm sorry I was so slow."
"It's okay," Spencer assures him. "We got you there, in the end."
"I'm excited," Brendon whispers. "Excited that we get Jon, now."
"Yeah," Spencer says quietly. "God, we have so much work to do."
"Idle hands, man," Brendon says cheekily, nosing at Spencer's jaw. "I'm not scared."
"Me either," Spencer agrees.
"We leave in ten," Ryan says, speaking too loudly with headphones shoved in his ears. Brent's tapping out a lazy beat next to him, his own music turned so loud Spencer can hear it almost perfectly.
He meets Brendon's gaze again, and Brendon nods. They're all on the same page, now. Brent is never going to understand, and it's time to do something about that.
Soon, anyway.