Cave of Wonders
Title: Cave of Wonders
Author: Telis (theaerosolkid)
Rating: NC-17
Pairing: Panic! At the Disco GSF
Summary: Jon Walker keeps hearing about these fabulous orgies.
Word Count: 3341
Disclaimer: Fake, fake, fake.
A/N: For the bandslashmania (Turning) Tricks or Treats Fic Exchange, for dsudis!! I hope you like it :D and Happy Halloween!! Thanks to notshybutsly and castoffstarter for their amazing beta help, thanks for pulling my head out of my ass, guys.
*
When Jon tells William he's going on tour with Panic! At the Disco as a temporary bassist, William nods solemnly like he already knew.
"I already knew," he says. "Here, I got you a going-away present." He pulls an economy-size "fun pack" of condoms from behind his back. It's an interesting variety, to say the least. Jon wasn't actually aware that flavoured condoms were that prevalent.
Jon blinks.
"Drink plenty of water," William advises. "Those guys'll keep you up all night."
"...Thanks?"
"No, seriously, there's panicking at the fucking disco because they're all little sex addicts," William says earnestly.
Jon hasn't really observed any of this, despite being on tour with them for a few months.
"Sneaky little sex addicts," William amends.
"Okay," Jon says.
"You're a skeptical bastard and you have bad taste in pizza," William says. "But seriously, have a good time. It'll be like the best summer job ever."
"Okay," Jon says again.
*
The contract is faxed to the last venue on the Truckstops tour. Pete talks to Jon on speakerphone while they go over the details.
"Ohh, sweet, I get a Sidekick," Jon says.
"You can look at it as either a signing bonus or insurance that they can find you for shows," Pete says with a chuckle.
"Awesome," Jon says, flipping pages.
"Anyway, you should pick up some vitamin E supplements," Pete says. Jon squints at the page, trying to figure out where he's supposed to sign, exactly. Maybe DecayDance could spend less money with T-Mobile and more money with lawyers who can produce a legible contract.
"Do I want to know why?" Jon's only half paying attention. He's making a firm internal resolution to never sign anything that's not colour-coded ever again. Ever.
"Well, there's that old thing where if you masturbate too much you'll go blind, and old wives' tales are stupid, but every time I don't dry my hair before I sleep I end up with the fucking flu, so, you know."
"Not really, no."
"Seriously. You're going to be touring with Panic! At the Disco. I figure that having the life fucked out of you is the same as jerking off too much. And vitamin E is good for your eyes."
"I'm signing on to play bass, not skin flute."
"You're still innocent, and I like that in a dude."
"Pete?"
"Yeah?"
"I'm hanging up now."
*
"Traitor," Tom says affectionately.
"Fucktard," Jon says. "Jesus. Who designed this fucking thing? I don't--the spinny wheel isn't obeying my commands."
"Defective. Like your face."
"Like your mom," Jon says absentmindedly. "Hahaha, victory, fucker."
"So me and Sisky got you this," Tom says, and hands over a plastic bag that's apparently full of little travel-size bottles of KY. Jon quirks an eyebrow.
"You know, everyone keeps saying they're all nymphos or whatever, but I'm not seeing it, dude."
"It's an internal thing," Tom says, waving him off. "Seriously, man, they're all fucking each other."
"Oh, I get it, Brent was running from the orgies."
"That's the prevailing theory."
"I'd just like to point out that I was on tour with you guys, too, and I never witnessed any fucking."
"You're young and stupid, you'll grow out of it."
*
Rehearsal for the summer tour starts in Vegas. It's hot as unholy fuck, and everyone takes to stealing Jon's extra flip-flops. Jon's not sure whether he should be pleased that they feel comfortable enough with him to share his shoes or embarrassed that he's got more than enough flip-flops to go around.
"Got new pictures from the costume people. They're looking good," Spencer says from behind his laptop on the couch.
"Ross is gonna be the prettiest lady ever," Brendon says. "Ouch, bastard, wait until that's empty before you go throwing it at me."
"Children, children," Jon says mildly, taking the can of Red Bull away from Brendon before he can throw it back at Ryan.
Brendon bats his eyes and makes kissy faces at Jon.
"Oh, Jesus," Ryan says.
Brendon pulls his shirt off and throws it at Ryan.
"What the fuck?"
"You threw a half-empty can of Red Bull at me."
"You were being obnoxious. You deserved it!"
"Well, you deserved to have a soggy t-shirt hit you in your face."
Jon settles down next to Spencer.
"I vote we call it a day," Spencer says, not looking away from the laptop screen.
"Probably wise," Jon says. By the time he looks up, Bart and Erik are both already gone. "So I guess they're not fans of the Brendon and Ryan show?"
"Hm? Oh, I don't know," Spencer says. "I guess. Whatever. It's kind of weird for them, maybe, being the back-ups here."
"Same deal for me, kinda," Jon says.
"Not really," Spencer says. "We're friends. They're still strangers."
A few days later, before they go on tour, Jon is signing another contract, and this time he's not saying he's a fill-in. He's official, now, which means something.
Mike says it means he gets to join in on the orgies any day now, but Jon has his doubts.
*
Settling into a routine on tour is remarkably easy.
"Dude, seriously, you don't have to tune your own shit," Spencer tells Jon. "We have techs for that."
"Grunts," Brendon says.
"Lackeys, even," Ryan says.
Jon makes a face. Of some sort. It was supposed to be funny, but from the way they're looking at him it seems like he might just look really unattractive.
"That's a really unattractive face," Brendon says. "Careful. It might get stuck that way. And then we'd have to make you play with a paper bag over your face."
"I think I'd lose my balance if I had to play with a paper bag over my face," Ryan says contemplatively.
"I'd lose my balance if I lost my ass," Brendon says. Jon makes a different face.
"Where would it go?" Spencer asks.
"Out into the ether," Brendon says immediately.
"You make more funny faces than I do," Jon tells Brendon, baring his teeth.
"It's your devil influence. You're trying to usurp my position as the pretty one in this band."
"Ryan's the pretty one," Spencer says.
"Whatever."
"So, anyway, you don't actually have to tune your own guitar," Ryan says after a lull.
"Okay," Jon says. "I'm going to anyway."
"All right," Brendon says. "I'm going to go take a nap."
"Sounds good," Spencer says, standing and stretching.
"Yeah, me too," Ryan says, and Jon feels really stupid for not having picked up on what was going on until much, much later.
*
"Hey, guys, we have to get a move on--"
And then Jon makes a sick sort of choking noise that's pretty embarrassing because Brendon and Ryan are on the floor of the green room, tangled and sweaty. Brendon's lying on his back with Ryan stretched out over him, one hand shoved down the back of Ryan's pants, and--is he? It's sort of obvious that Brendon's fingering Ryan, and the way Ryan's grinding back up against the intrusion is kind of--well, it's sort of ridiculous, and the only thing Jon can think of is that dammit, this means everyone else was right and also that he owes the Butcher a fair amount of money.
"Wow, that's kind of a cynical thought," Jon says aloud, as Brendon and Ryan manage to decouple. Brendon wipes his hand off on Ryan's shirt. Ryan makes a low disconsolate noise and shoves at him, and then they're bickering like normal.
"I'm claiming the back lounge as mine," Brendon announces while they're walking to the bus. "Seriously. I will make a flag if I have to. I'm also claiming Ryan as mine."
"I think you've got that one covered," Jon says.
"I do now," Brendon says smugly, and Ryan just shoves at him again without saying anything.
*
"So, Brendon and Ryan are having sex in the other room," Jon says as casually as he can to Spencer. It's made more easy by staring at his Sidekick. He really wishes Tom would respond faster, because then he would have an excuse to not look up and see Spencer's stupid face.
"Yep," Spencer says. Okay then.
Awkward silence. Jon takes his phone off vibrate so the high-pitched beeps of his keys fill the void.
"That's really irritating."
Jon turns it up.
"Right," Spencer says, resignedly. "I'm gonna go, you know, have some sex."
"Go for it."
"Um, don't wait up."
"Ten-four."
"What?"
Jon sighs. "I mean, go ahead."
"You're okay with this?" Spencer asks.
"Yeah-huh," Jon says, not looking up from his phone.
"See you in the morning," Spencer says skeptically. The door clicks shut softly.
There is an orgy and I'm not invited, he sends to William.
He waits a moment, regards the empty room. It's all your fault, asshole.
Just when Jon gets settled in, hovering on the edge of sleep, his phone pings at him with a text. Sluggishly, Jon flips the screen to see Hahaahahahahhhaha sucks to be ypuuu.
Fucker.
*
In the morning Brendon climbs into his lap and nuzzles at his throat.
"You're my favourite," he informs Jon.
"I don't really feel like I'm your favourite," Jon confesses.
"Is it because I'm not letting you suck my dick?" Brendon asks sympathetically.
"That could contribute, yes," Jon says.
"It's not my fault you're a filthy sex-obsessed pervert," Brendon says. "Right?"
"No," Ryan says, not looking up from his book.
Spencer kicks him.
"Yes. Yes. You're right, Brendon."
"Do you know what he was talking about?" Jon asks.
"Something about his dick," Ryan says, still focused on his book. "No, Brendon."
"I didn't say anything," Brendon says sulkily.
"Preemptive strike," Spencer says.
"But anyway, I'm the odd man out and that's sad," Jon says.
"Butch up, Nancy," Brendon says before climbing off Jon's lap to go invade Ryan's personal space.
*
"Hey," Zack says at the next hotel, coming up next to Jon and sitting at the otherwise-empty bar.
"So I'm kind of celibate right now," Jon says.
Zack takes a sip of his beer.
"I mean. I wouldn't normally really care all that much because it's not that big a deal, but, come on. I'm the only guy in the band who's not actually sleeping with the rest of the band and, okay, yeah, I know, that shit busts groups up, but isn't it kind of worse if there's a strict and discriminatory policy of exclusion?"
Zack pushes the empty glass across the bar and indicates for another.
"All in all, I feel pretty welcome and stuff, you know, it's weird to go from that sideline guy who's getting shit set up and going on booze runs to that guy who's playing onstage. Which, by the way, did you know that Ryan's been sewing roses on my shirts? Is there any way to get him to stop?"
Zack grunts.
"So, I don't know. I think I just talked a little too much," Jon mumbles, banging his head down onto the bar.
"You probably just need to get laid," Zack says.
*
The next morning, Zack pokes his head in the door.
"You up?"
"Sure am, dude," Jon mumbles, rolling over and stuffing his pillow over his head.
"Up 'n' at 'em," Zack says. "Can you get the other guys up? I gotta go deal with some scheduling shit."
"Yeah-huh," Jon says blearily.
*
Jon knocks at the door, still rubbing at his face. It swings open and Jon almost falls forward.
"Hi there," Brendon says cheerfully. He's wearing a pair of Jon's boxers.
"You're wearing my shorts," Jon says dumbly. Spencer comes up alongside Brendon and smirks at Jon. He looks pretty ridiculously well-fucked.
"They smell like you," Brendon says.
"Well, they did," Spencer says, bending down and sniffing Brendon's hip. "Now they kinda smell like your sweat."
"Awesome," Jon says. "You can keep them."
"Aw, thanks, buddy," Brendon says. He smacks a kiss on Jon's cheek, and Jon can smell his mouthwash.
"Ryan's grooming," Spencer says.
"All right," Jon says.
"I'm ready to go, I'll head down with you," Brendon says.
"Clothes would be good," Jon advises.
"Spoilsport." Brendon bends down and wriggles into a pair of jeans casually piled on the floor, bunching his stolen boxers awkwardly. "Dammit, I'm all packed up already. Jon, gimme your hoodie."
Jon obeys without thinking, tugging it up over his head. Brendon flashes a wide grin and nuzzles at it.
"Now you'll smell like Jon again," Spencer says, sounding satisfied. "I like it."
"Bottle my fragrance and sell it," Jon suggests.
"No fucking way, man," Brendon says. "We're gonna keep you all to ourselves."
*
The next night, Jon goes down to the bar to try and wrestle some wisdom out of Zack.
He fails miserably.
"I'm not going to talk to you about this," Zack says with absolute certainty.
"Fine, be that way," Jon grumbles.
"Is it really a problem that they're not fucking you?" Zack asks.
Jon sighs.
*
When Jon heads back up to the room he's sharing with Ryan, he's not really expecting anything other than a slightly frustrating bout of masturbation and the grateful sleep that comes with a real bed.
What he gets is three naked bandmates with Ryan on the floor, sprawled on his hands and knees and an indeterminate number of Brendon's fingers in his ass.
"Hi," Spencer says from the bed.
"Hi," Jon says brightly. "Wrong room?"
Ryan whimpers.
"He's sore," Spencer scolds Brendon, who clicks his tongue and works his wrist more slowly.
"You have to be nice to Ryan over the selfish thing, because he wasn't really raised right," Brendon explains to Jon.
"Shut up," Ryan hisses.
"Ryan doesn't know how to share," Brendon clarifies. Jon nods.
"We're teaching him a valuable lesson," Spencer says. "Sharing is caring."
"Right on," Jon allows. "How long are we teaching Ryan this lesson?"
"You're not going anywhere, Jon," Brendon says softly. "Ryan, say sorry to Jon for being selfish."
Jon crawls down in front of Ryan, tilts his face upward. Ryan dips forward enough to kiss Jon, quick and needful. Jon fists a hand in Ryan's hair and tugs gently, liking Ryan's reaction: a low, pleased groan. Jon pulls back, still petting Ryan's hair, and glances up at Spencer.
"How is this--?"
"Don't worry," Spencer says. He rolls off the bed. "Here, lie down."
Jon stands up and lies on his back on the bed, propped up on his elbows. Brendon pulls his fingers from Ryan's body, eliciting a disappointed grunt. Brendon smirks and climbs up next to Jon, bends down to open his jeans, and sucks the head of his cock into his mouth.
"Ohh," Jon sighs. Ryan curls up next to him and goes back to kissing him, fingers playing lightly at the hem of Jon's t-shirt.
Brendon wraps a hand around the base of Jon's cock and squeezes gently, stroking with firm insistent pressure as he works his tongue over the head. It's kind of overwhelming, in the best way, all the attention that's being paid to him.
"C'mon," Ryan says, tugging at Jon's clothing while Spencer's threading fingers through Jon's hair.
"Yeah, okay," Jon breathes. Brendon pulls off, pressing a soft-mouthed kiss to the tip of Jon's cock. He grabs for Jon's boxers and jeans, jerks them down and shoves them away. Jon sits up and lets Ryan take his shirt off.
Spencer nudges at Jon's hip, gets him to roll over onto his belly.
"Come on, Ross, time's a-wasting," Brendon says. Ryan sighs. "Don't make that face at me. Get him ready." Another sigh. "I'm not going to fuck you until Jon's had a dick up his ass."
"I don't--" Jon tries.
"Oh, shut up," Brendon says.
Ryan nuzzles at the small of Jon's back, spreading him open before dipping his head down and lapping quickly over Jon's hole. Jon tenses and Ryan shushes him. "Just--enjoy it," he instructs. Jon sucks in a slow breath and nods, pillows his head on his forearms.
Jon sighs into the sensation when Ryan pushes his tongue inside, shudders when he just keeps it up. Spencer and Brendon are watching closely.
"He's ready for fingers now," Spencer says. Jon glances up, sees Spencer passing a tube to Ryan. He sits back on his haunches and slicks his fingers up, works Jon open slowly.
It's good, really it is, Ryan's fingers are sort of ridiculously long and nimble, and yeah, okay, this was worth waiting for.
"Fuck," Jon gasps.
"Well, sure," Brendon says. Ryan pushes another finger in, and Jon's so full, and it's not enough.
Spencer pulls Ryan away, letting Brendon settle in behind him. Brendon reaches down and hitches Jon's hips up, spreads him open and pushes his cock in, slowly, filling him gradually.
Jon groans and gets up on his elbows, drops his forehead to the mattress. "Harder," he grunts out.
Brendon chuckles and works his hips, digs his fingernails into Jon's flesh.
"Good?" Spencer asks.
Brendon's fucking into him harder now, quick jerks. He snakes a hand beneath Jon's body to stroke at his cock, and Jon arches into it, trying to part his legs wider to get a better angle. Brendon grabs at the back of Jon's neck, rough pressure. Jon chokes a bit, not expecting the force but pushing back into it, asking for more. Brendon chuckles breathlessly and comes, deep inside his ass. Jon groans a bit, still hard, so fucking close.
"My turn," Spencer says, and Brendon rolls away, makes grabbyhands for Ryan.
"You do that," Brendon says cheerfully. "I'm just gonna --"
Jon wants to pay attention to Brendon finger-fucking Ryan, really he does, but it's hard when Spencer's pushing into him, faster now that he's stretched from Ryan's fingers and Brendon's cock.
He glances to the side and sees Ryan on his belly, grinding down against the bedspread and gasping while Brendon works a fourth finger in.
"He likes it," Brendon explains, stroking Ryan's thigh. "He can get off just like this, watch."
And Jon moans a little at that because he can, they're letting him and God, he doesn't want to do anything other than this. Maybe ever. Ryan's whining low in his throat, raspy and fuck. Spencer keeps fucking Jon, harder now, and Jon's really feeling it. Jon's right on the edge and Spencer reaches around and wraps his hand around Jon's cock, tugs and he's lost; he comes hard with a strangled groan. Spencer follows suit quickly enough and collapses atop him in a sweaty pile. They both watch Brendon work Ryan until he's writhing and crying out.
They lie like that for a while, breathing hard until Jon drifts off to sleep.
*
When he wakes up, they're in a tangle of limbs and they're still pretty sticky.
"Dude, you fucking reek," Spencer says drowsily.
"I don't know who you're talking to, but I'm going to assume it's me. You're an asshole," Brendon says. He's wide awake already, obviously. Jon wants to find it annoying but he's feeling too well-fucked to bother.
"Shut up," Ryan mutters.
"I want another orgy," Brendon says cheerfully.
"In a few hours, sleep now," Spencer says.
"So," Jon starts. "We're doing this again, then?"
Ryan kisses his throat. "Yes. Go back to sleep."
"Just a second," Jon says, and reaches for his Sidekick, sends a sleepily smug message to Tom.
*
After they wake up, Jon means to check his Sidekick but instead gets roped into letting Brendon bend him nearly in half and fuck him hard while Spencer sucks Ryan off. Ryan keeps his hand on Jon's cock the whole time, and it's. Really nice.
*
And then after the big gay group sex, Jon means to check his Sidekick but ends up in the shower rubbing himself against Spencer's hip, urging Spencer's fingers into his ass, watching Brendon lather Ryan's hair. Ryan's on his knees for Brendon, suckling at his cock slowly, like he's savouring the act, taking his time with it.
*
When Jon finally gets a second to flip his screen open, he's pretty glad he cleared his text messages because he's out of storage both on his SIM card and his device. The messages are all filthy and all are begging for details.
His personal favourite is one of Pete's: i didnt give you a sk so you could not tell me about your orgies you asshole. theres a camera. use it..
*
Author: Telis (theaerosolkid)
Rating: NC-17
Pairing: Panic! At the Disco GSF
Summary: Jon Walker keeps hearing about these fabulous orgies.
Word Count: 3341
Disclaimer: Fake, fake, fake.
A/N: For the bandslashmania (Turning) Tricks or Treats Fic Exchange, for dsudis!! I hope you like it :D and Happy Halloween!! Thanks to notshybutsly and castoffstarter for their amazing beta help, thanks for pulling my head out of my ass, guys.
*
When Jon tells William he's going on tour with Panic! At the Disco as a temporary bassist, William nods solemnly like he already knew.
"I already knew," he says. "Here, I got you a going-away present." He pulls an economy-size "fun pack" of condoms from behind his back. It's an interesting variety, to say the least. Jon wasn't actually aware that flavoured condoms were that prevalent.
Jon blinks.
"Drink plenty of water," William advises. "Those guys'll keep you up all night."
"...Thanks?"
"No, seriously, there's panicking at the fucking disco because they're all little sex addicts," William says earnestly.
Jon hasn't really observed any of this, despite being on tour with them for a few months.
"Sneaky little sex addicts," William amends.
"Okay," Jon says.
"You're a skeptical bastard and you have bad taste in pizza," William says. "But seriously, have a good time. It'll be like the best summer job ever."
"Okay," Jon says again.
*
The contract is faxed to the last venue on the Truckstops tour. Pete talks to Jon on speakerphone while they go over the details.
"Ohh, sweet, I get a Sidekick," Jon says.
"You can look at it as either a signing bonus or insurance that they can find you for shows," Pete says with a chuckle.
"Awesome," Jon says, flipping pages.
"Anyway, you should pick up some vitamin E supplements," Pete says. Jon squints at the page, trying to figure out where he's supposed to sign, exactly. Maybe DecayDance could spend less money with T-Mobile and more money with lawyers who can produce a legible contract.
"Do I want to know why?" Jon's only half paying attention. He's making a firm internal resolution to never sign anything that's not colour-coded ever again. Ever.
"Well, there's that old thing where if you masturbate too much you'll go blind, and old wives' tales are stupid, but every time I don't dry my hair before I sleep I end up with the fucking flu, so, you know."
"Not really, no."
"Seriously. You're going to be touring with Panic! At the Disco. I figure that having the life fucked out of you is the same as jerking off too much. And vitamin E is good for your eyes."
"I'm signing on to play bass, not skin flute."
"You're still innocent, and I like that in a dude."
"Pete?"
"Yeah?"
"I'm hanging up now."
*
"Traitor," Tom says affectionately.
"Fucktard," Jon says. "Jesus. Who designed this fucking thing? I don't--the spinny wheel isn't obeying my commands."
"Defective. Like your face."
"Like your mom," Jon says absentmindedly. "Hahaha, victory, fucker."
"So me and Sisky got you this," Tom says, and hands over a plastic bag that's apparently full of little travel-size bottles of KY. Jon quirks an eyebrow.
"You know, everyone keeps saying they're all nymphos or whatever, but I'm not seeing it, dude."
"It's an internal thing," Tom says, waving him off. "Seriously, man, they're all fucking each other."
"Oh, I get it, Brent was running from the orgies."
"That's the prevailing theory."
"I'd just like to point out that I was on tour with you guys, too, and I never witnessed any fucking."
"You're young and stupid, you'll grow out of it."
*
Rehearsal for the summer tour starts in Vegas. It's hot as unholy fuck, and everyone takes to stealing Jon's extra flip-flops. Jon's not sure whether he should be pleased that they feel comfortable enough with him to share his shoes or embarrassed that he's got more than enough flip-flops to go around.
"Got new pictures from the costume people. They're looking good," Spencer says from behind his laptop on the couch.
"Ross is gonna be the prettiest lady ever," Brendon says. "Ouch, bastard, wait until that's empty before you go throwing it at me."
"Children, children," Jon says mildly, taking the can of Red Bull away from Brendon before he can throw it back at Ryan.
Brendon bats his eyes and makes kissy faces at Jon.
"Oh, Jesus," Ryan says.
Brendon pulls his shirt off and throws it at Ryan.
"What the fuck?"
"You threw a half-empty can of Red Bull at me."
"You were being obnoxious. You deserved it!"
"Well, you deserved to have a soggy t-shirt hit you in your face."
Jon settles down next to Spencer.
"I vote we call it a day," Spencer says, not looking away from the laptop screen.
"Probably wise," Jon says. By the time he looks up, Bart and Erik are both already gone. "So I guess they're not fans of the Brendon and Ryan show?"
"Hm? Oh, I don't know," Spencer says. "I guess. Whatever. It's kind of weird for them, maybe, being the back-ups here."
"Same deal for me, kinda," Jon says.
"Not really," Spencer says. "We're friends. They're still strangers."
A few days later, before they go on tour, Jon is signing another contract, and this time he's not saying he's a fill-in. He's official, now, which means something.
Mike says it means he gets to join in on the orgies any day now, but Jon has his doubts.
*
Settling into a routine on tour is remarkably easy.
"Dude, seriously, you don't have to tune your own shit," Spencer tells Jon. "We have techs for that."
"Grunts," Brendon says.
"Lackeys, even," Ryan says.
Jon makes a face. Of some sort. It was supposed to be funny, but from the way they're looking at him it seems like he might just look really unattractive.
"That's a really unattractive face," Brendon says. "Careful. It might get stuck that way. And then we'd have to make you play with a paper bag over your face."
"I think I'd lose my balance if I had to play with a paper bag over my face," Ryan says contemplatively.
"I'd lose my balance if I lost my ass," Brendon says. Jon makes a different face.
"Where would it go?" Spencer asks.
"Out into the ether," Brendon says immediately.
"You make more funny faces than I do," Jon tells Brendon, baring his teeth.
"It's your devil influence. You're trying to usurp my position as the pretty one in this band."
"Ryan's the pretty one," Spencer says.
"Whatever."
"So, anyway, you don't actually have to tune your own guitar," Ryan says after a lull.
"Okay," Jon says. "I'm going to anyway."
"All right," Brendon says. "I'm going to go take a nap."
"Sounds good," Spencer says, standing and stretching.
"Yeah, me too," Ryan says, and Jon feels really stupid for not having picked up on what was going on until much, much later.
*
"Hey, guys, we have to get a move on--"
And then Jon makes a sick sort of choking noise that's pretty embarrassing because Brendon and Ryan are on the floor of the green room, tangled and sweaty. Brendon's lying on his back with Ryan stretched out over him, one hand shoved down the back of Ryan's pants, and--is he? It's sort of obvious that Brendon's fingering Ryan, and the way Ryan's grinding back up against the intrusion is kind of--well, it's sort of ridiculous, and the only thing Jon can think of is that dammit, this means everyone else was right and also that he owes the Butcher a fair amount of money.
"Wow, that's kind of a cynical thought," Jon says aloud, as Brendon and Ryan manage to decouple. Brendon wipes his hand off on Ryan's shirt. Ryan makes a low disconsolate noise and shoves at him, and then they're bickering like normal.
"I'm claiming the back lounge as mine," Brendon announces while they're walking to the bus. "Seriously. I will make a flag if I have to. I'm also claiming Ryan as mine."
"I think you've got that one covered," Jon says.
"I do now," Brendon says smugly, and Ryan just shoves at him again without saying anything.
*
"So, Brendon and Ryan are having sex in the other room," Jon says as casually as he can to Spencer. It's made more easy by staring at his Sidekick. He really wishes Tom would respond faster, because then he would have an excuse to not look up and see Spencer's stupid face.
"Yep," Spencer says. Okay then.
Awkward silence. Jon takes his phone off vibrate so the high-pitched beeps of his keys fill the void.
"That's really irritating."
Jon turns it up.
"Right," Spencer says, resignedly. "I'm gonna go, you know, have some sex."
"Go for it."
"Um, don't wait up."
"Ten-four."
"What?"
Jon sighs. "I mean, go ahead."
"You're okay with this?" Spencer asks.
"Yeah-huh," Jon says, not looking up from his phone.
"See you in the morning," Spencer says skeptically. The door clicks shut softly.
There is an orgy and I'm not invited, he sends to William.
He waits a moment, regards the empty room. It's all your fault, asshole.
Just when Jon gets settled in, hovering on the edge of sleep, his phone pings at him with a text. Sluggishly, Jon flips the screen to see Hahaahahahahhhaha sucks to be ypuuu.
Fucker.
*
In the morning Brendon climbs into his lap and nuzzles at his throat.
"You're my favourite," he informs Jon.
"I don't really feel like I'm your favourite," Jon confesses.
"Is it because I'm not letting you suck my dick?" Brendon asks sympathetically.
"That could contribute, yes," Jon says.
"It's not my fault you're a filthy sex-obsessed pervert," Brendon says. "Right?"
"No," Ryan says, not looking up from his book.
Spencer kicks him.
"Yes. Yes. You're right, Brendon."
"Do you know what he was talking about?" Jon asks.
"Something about his dick," Ryan says, still focused on his book. "No, Brendon."
"I didn't say anything," Brendon says sulkily.
"Preemptive strike," Spencer says.
"But anyway, I'm the odd man out and that's sad," Jon says.
"Butch up, Nancy," Brendon says before climbing off Jon's lap to go invade Ryan's personal space.
*
"Hey," Zack says at the next hotel, coming up next to Jon and sitting at the otherwise-empty bar.
"So I'm kind of celibate right now," Jon says.
Zack takes a sip of his beer.
"I mean. I wouldn't normally really care all that much because it's not that big a deal, but, come on. I'm the only guy in the band who's not actually sleeping with the rest of the band and, okay, yeah, I know, that shit busts groups up, but isn't it kind of worse if there's a strict and discriminatory policy of exclusion?"
Zack pushes the empty glass across the bar and indicates for another.
"All in all, I feel pretty welcome and stuff, you know, it's weird to go from that sideline guy who's getting shit set up and going on booze runs to that guy who's playing onstage. Which, by the way, did you know that Ryan's been sewing roses on my shirts? Is there any way to get him to stop?"
Zack grunts.
"So, I don't know. I think I just talked a little too much," Jon mumbles, banging his head down onto the bar.
"You probably just need to get laid," Zack says.
*
The next morning, Zack pokes his head in the door.
"You up?"
"Sure am, dude," Jon mumbles, rolling over and stuffing his pillow over his head.
"Up 'n' at 'em," Zack says. "Can you get the other guys up? I gotta go deal with some scheduling shit."
"Yeah-huh," Jon says blearily.
*
Jon knocks at the door, still rubbing at his face. It swings open and Jon almost falls forward.
"Hi there," Brendon says cheerfully. He's wearing a pair of Jon's boxers.
"You're wearing my shorts," Jon says dumbly. Spencer comes up alongside Brendon and smirks at Jon. He looks pretty ridiculously well-fucked.
"They smell like you," Brendon says.
"Well, they did," Spencer says, bending down and sniffing Brendon's hip. "Now they kinda smell like your sweat."
"Awesome," Jon says. "You can keep them."
"Aw, thanks, buddy," Brendon says. He smacks a kiss on Jon's cheek, and Jon can smell his mouthwash.
"Ryan's grooming," Spencer says.
"All right," Jon says.
"I'm ready to go, I'll head down with you," Brendon says.
"Clothes would be good," Jon advises.
"Spoilsport." Brendon bends down and wriggles into a pair of jeans casually piled on the floor, bunching his stolen boxers awkwardly. "Dammit, I'm all packed up already. Jon, gimme your hoodie."
Jon obeys without thinking, tugging it up over his head. Brendon flashes a wide grin and nuzzles at it.
"Now you'll smell like Jon again," Spencer says, sounding satisfied. "I like it."
"Bottle my fragrance and sell it," Jon suggests.
"No fucking way, man," Brendon says. "We're gonna keep you all to ourselves."
*
The next night, Jon goes down to the bar to try and wrestle some wisdom out of Zack.
He fails miserably.
"I'm not going to talk to you about this," Zack says with absolute certainty.
"Fine, be that way," Jon grumbles.
"Is it really a problem that they're not fucking you?" Zack asks.
Jon sighs.
*
When Jon heads back up to the room he's sharing with Ryan, he's not really expecting anything other than a slightly frustrating bout of masturbation and the grateful sleep that comes with a real bed.
What he gets is three naked bandmates with Ryan on the floor, sprawled on his hands and knees and an indeterminate number of Brendon's fingers in his ass.
"Hi," Spencer says from the bed.
"Hi," Jon says brightly. "Wrong room?"
Ryan whimpers.
"He's sore," Spencer scolds Brendon, who clicks his tongue and works his wrist more slowly.
"You have to be nice to Ryan over the selfish thing, because he wasn't really raised right," Brendon explains to Jon.
"Shut up," Ryan hisses.
"Ryan doesn't know how to share," Brendon clarifies. Jon nods.
"We're teaching him a valuable lesson," Spencer says. "Sharing is caring."
"Right on," Jon allows. "How long are we teaching Ryan this lesson?"
"You're not going anywhere, Jon," Brendon says softly. "Ryan, say sorry to Jon for being selfish."
Jon crawls down in front of Ryan, tilts his face upward. Ryan dips forward enough to kiss Jon, quick and needful. Jon fists a hand in Ryan's hair and tugs gently, liking Ryan's reaction: a low, pleased groan. Jon pulls back, still petting Ryan's hair, and glances up at Spencer.
"How is this--?"
"Don't worry," Spencer says. He rolls off the bed. "Here, lie down."
Jon stands up and lies on his back on the bed, propped up on his elbows. Brendon pulls his fingers from Ryan's body, eliciting a disappointed grunt. Brendon smirks and climbs up next to Jon, bends down to open his jeans, and sucks the head of his cock into his mouth.
"Ohh," Jon sighs. Ryan curls up next to him and goes back to kissing him, fingers playing lightly at the hem of Jon's t-shirt.
Brendon wraps a hand around the base of Jon's cock and squeezes gently, stroking with firm insistent pressure as he works his tongue over the head. It's kind of overwhelming, in the best way, all the attention that's being paid to him.
"C'mon," Ryan says, tugging at Jon's clothing while Spencer's threading fingers through Jon's hair.
"Yeah, okay," Jon breathes. Brendon pulls off, pressing a soft-mouthed kiss to the tip of Jon's cock. He grabs for Jon's boxers and jeans, jerks them down and shoves them away. Jon sits up and lets Ryan take his shirt off.
Spencer nudges at Jon's hip, gets him to roll over onto his belly.
"Come on, Ross, time's a-wasting," Brendon says. Ryan sighs. "Don't make that face at me. Get him ready." Another sigh. "I'm not going to fuck you until Jon's had a dick up his ass."
"I don't--" Jon tries.
"Oh, shut up," Brendon says.
Ryan nuzzles at the small of Jon's back, spreading him open before dipping his head down and lapping quickly over Jon's hole. Jon tenses and Ryan shushes him. "Just--enjoy it," he instructs. Jon sucks in a slow breath and nods, pillows his head on his forearms.
Jon sighs into the sensation when Ryan pushes his tongue inside, shudders when he just keeps it up. Spencer and Brendon are watching closely.
"He's ready for fingers now," Spencer says. Jon glances up, sees Spencer passing a tube to Ryan. He sits back on his haunches and slicks his fingers up, works Jon open slowly.
It's good, really it is, Ryan's fingers are sort of ridiculously long and nimble, and yeah, okay, this was worth waiting for.
"Fuck," Jon gasps.
"Well, sure," Brendon says. Ryan pushes another finger in, and Jon's so full, and it's not enough.
Spencer pulls Ryan away, letting Brendon settle in behind him. Brendon reaches down and hitches Jon's hips up, spreads him open and pushes his cock in, slowly, filling him gradually.
Jon groans and gets up on his elbows, drops his forehead to the mattress. "Harder," he grunts out.
Brendon chuckles and works his hips, digs his fingernails into Jon's flesh.
"Good?" Spencer asks.
Brendon's fucking into him harder now, quick jerks. He snakes a hand beneath Jon's body to stroke at his cock, and Jon arches into it, trying to part his legs wider to get a better angle. Brendon grabs at the back of Jon's neck, rough pressure. Jon chokes a bit, not expecting the force but pushing back into it, asking for more. Brendon chuckles breathlessly and comes, deep inside his ass. Jon groans a bit, still hard, so fucking close.
"My turn," Spencer says, and Brendon rolls away, makes grabbyhands for Ryan.
"You do that," Brendon says cheerfully. "I'm just gonna --"
Jon wants to pay attention to Brendon finger-fucking Ryan, really he does, but it's hard when Spencer's pushing into him, faster now that he's stretched from Ryan's fingers and Brendon's cock.
He glances to the side and sees Ryan on his belly, grinding down against the bedspread and gasping while Brendon works a fourth finger in.
"He likes it," Brendon explains, stroking Ryan's thigh. "He can get off just like this, watch."
And Jon moans a little at that because he can, they're letting him and God, he doesn't want to do anything other than this. Maybe ever. Ryan's whining low in his throat, raspy and fuck. Spencer keeps fucking Jon, harder now, and Jon's really feeling it. Jon's right on the edge and Spencer reaches around and wraps his hand around Jon's cock, tugs and he's lost; he comes hard with a strangled groan. Spencer follows suit quickly enough and collapses atop him in a sweaty pile. They both watch Brendon work Ryan until he's writhing and crying out.
They lie like that for a while, breathing hard until Jon drifts off to sleep.
*
When he wakes up, they're in a tangle of limbs and they're still pretty sticky.
"Dude, you fucking reek," Spencer says drowsily.
"I don't know who you're talking to, but I'm going to assume it's me. You're an asshole," Brendon says. He's wide awake already, obviously. Jon wants to find it annoying but he's feeling too well-fucked to bother.
"Shut up," Ryan mutters.
"I want another orgy," Brendon says cheerfully.
"In a few hours, sleep now," Spencer says.
"So," Jon starts. "We're doing this again, then?"
Ryan kisses his throat. "Yes. Go back to sleep."
"Just a second," Jon says, and reaches for his Sidekick, sends a sleepily smug message to Tom.
*
After they wake up, Jon means to check his Sidekick but instead gets roped into letting Brendon bend him nearly in half and fuck him hard while Spencer sucks Ryan off. Ryan keeps his hand on Jon's cock the whole time, and it's. Really nice.
*
And then after the big gay group sex, Jon means to check his Sidekick but ends up in the shower rubbing himself against Spencer's hip, urging Spencer's fingers into his ass, watching Brendon lather Ryan's hair. Ryan's on his knees for Brendon, suckling at his cock slowly, like he's savouring the act, taking his time with it.
*
When Jon finally gets a second to flip his screen open, he's pretty glad he cleared his text messages because he's out of storage both on his SIM card and his device. The messages are all filthy and all are begging for details.
His personal favourite is one of Pete's: i didnt give you a sk so you could not tell me about your orgies you asshole. theres a camera. use it..
*