Boys Will Be Boys [2/3]
Title: Boys Will Be Boys [2/3]
Author: meiloslyther
Rating: NC-17
Pairing: Rydon
POV: 1st, Ryan's
Summary: Things get angsty and confusing. It's all Ryan's fault. Well, sort of.
Word Count: 1,295 [this part]; 4,311 [total]
Disclaimer: Not my boys, never happened. Don't Google yourselves, kids.
Beta: A good friend who wishes to remain unnamed.
Author Notes: Yay, more somewhat plotless smut!
Part 1 : Part 3
How anyone could not notice Brendon staring at me was beyond me. He hadn't taken his eyes off of me since the beginning of the show. Well, unless he was at the piano, but other than that, his eyes were on me.
"...I've got more wit, a better kiss
A hotter touch, a better fuck
Than any boy you'll ever meet
Sweetie, you have me..."
I heard the subtle change to my lyrics and shivered. He was singing to me. I knew it. It had been like this ever since that night. Sure, he flirted with me a lot before then, but now...
"...Let's get these teen hearts beating
Faster, faster..."
I suddenly realized why he had asked me to sing that part when he smirked at me. It had been almost a week.
"Faster... faster, Bren..."
I could feel the heat going to my face even as I pushed the thought away. I was NOT falling for Brendon, whatever noises he managed to make me produce while doing naughty things to my body. Not that anything had happened since then.
"...Will you dance to this beat
And hold a lover close..."
The way he sang, even though he was at the piano so he wasn't looking at me, made me feel naked. I blushed even more, glad for the excuse of overexertion.
"...You're so perfect, Bren..."
Why couldn't I get his face out of my head? Okay, so we did some stuff, and yeah, it was amazing. But I didn't, you know, like him that way. I just... ugh, this was frustrating.
Brendon started up 'But It's Better If You Do' and I felt relieved. At least he couldn't subtly change a word or two and make it directed at me.
"...And isn't this exactly where you like me
I'm exactly where you like me you know
Praying for love in a lap dance
And paying in naivety..."
He stood from his bench and began wandering the stage as he sang the chorus. As he passed me, he grabbed my ass with a little more meaning than he usually would and casually pecked me on the back of my neck as he went to go sit back down. I was sure my face was bright red by now, but I kept my head down and concentrated on my guitar.
"...Brend-ah! Oh god... Please..."
I tried not to stumble over my words or notes as we finished the set and as we walked off stage, my feet as well. I was the first one back to the bus and I quickly stripped off my sweaty stage clothes and stepped into the shower.
I didn't even hear the door open again over the sound of the water.
"Ryan?"
I froze. Brendon couldn't see me through the glazed glass door, but he knew I was in here. I tried to ignore him.
"Ryan, I just... I wanted to apologize. I, uh... I didn't mean to make you mad... please don't be mad at me, I just really..."
"I'm not mad at you," I muttered as I rinsed off, barely loud enough to be heard over the water.
"You... you're not?"
I shut off the water and grabbed my towel, quickly getting off most of the water before wrapping it around my waist and stepping out. Brendon was standing in front of the door, his head down and his fingers clasped together. He honestly thought he had done something wrong.
"No, I'm not. Why should I be mad at you?"
He bit his lip. "Because I thought... you and me... but you..."
I stepped forward and tipped his chin up to look at me.
"You don't feel the same way I do, do you?"
I felt like a giant red-hot poker had been stabbed into my chest then, that very real sadness in his eyes eating at my insides like maggots. Brendon didn't usually cry, but damn did he look close to doing so. I felt horrible.
I wanted to tell him. I wanted to make him feel better. But how could I ever tell him the truth? How could I ever admit it to myself even?
"Bren, I... I don't know how to say this..." I bit my lip, looking anywhere but his deep, soulful brown eyes. I tried to quell the nerves, the guilt, the panic. If I didn't tell him or somehow cheer him back up, I was sure that the look in his eyes would kill me.
"Then don't," he whispered, catching my eyes. "Show me."
Without further instruction, I grabbed both lapels of his jacket and pulled him into a fierce kiss, not really caring if I got him wet. His lips curved against mine in a soft smile, and he wrapped his arms around my waist.
Before I knew it, he had me shoved up against the bathroom door, attacking my neck and gently removing my towel. I pushed his jacket off, and the both of us fumbled to get the rest of his clothes off. He kicked his boots and pants off with a little bit of difficulty and immediately pressed as much of his bare skin to mine as was humanly possible.
"Oh god... Please...," I muttered in his ear as he bucked against me, his hands on my face, in my hair.
As he continued to tease me, I slid my hands down his back to his ass, which I found rather intriguing. Each cheek was plump and round, and fit exactly in the palm of my hand.
"Bren...," I groaned, squeezing his ass for emphasis. "Want... need... you..."
He exhaled against my neck, reaching out to the sink for the soap dispenser. I didn't even care if he used lube at that moment, I was just glad to feel his fingers slide inside, massaging, stretching, moving. Not that I needed much preparation; after last week, I was ready as ever.
His fingers left me after a minute, and he picked me up, pulling my legs to wrap around his hips. He let me slide down onto his cock, keeping me held up with his hands clamped under my thighs and his weight pressing me back against the door.
As he began to move, I threw my arms around his neck and squeezed his waist with my legs, fearful of him dropping me even though he had a bruising grip on my thighs and I didn't really weigh that much. The door creaked with each thrust and our breath came in hushed whispers.
"Oh, god... you're so perfect, Bren..."
He groaned into my chest and his fingertips clenched harder around my thighs. I kissed the top of his head and ran my fingers up the back of his neck, tangling them in the short hairs at the back of his head. Our gasps and moans became almost song-like, and I vaguely thought about writing that down until a tongue laved at my nipple.
"Faster... faster, Bren..."
I could feel him bite his lip against my chest as he picked up the pace. His nails began to dig into my thighs, but I didn't care. The sweet pull-push of Brendon's cock inside of me was all that mattered. Brendon was all that mattered.
"Oh, fuck... Bren-ah!"
Every muscle in my body tensed and convulsed as I reached orgasm, muffling my cries in his hair. I whimpered with every thrust afterward as he finished himself off, and I could feel his hot seed filling me.
Brendon hadn't even put me down when a knock came to the door at my back. Jon's half-amused voice floated in to us as we stared at each other in horror.
"Uhm... do you guys mind? I, uh, gotta piss."
-----
A/N: Offtopic but, HAPPY BIRTHDAY SPENCER!
Author: meiloslyther
Rating: NC-17
Pairing: Rydon
POV: 1st, Ryan's
Summary: Things get angsty and confusing. It's all Ryan's fault. Well, sort of.
Word Count: 1,295 [this part]; 4,311 [total]
Disclaimer: Not my boys, never happened. Don't Google yourselves, kids.
Beta: A good friend who wishes to remain unnamed.
Author Notes: Yay, more somewhat plotless smut!
Part 1 : Part 3
How anyone could not notice Brendon staring at me was beyond me. He hadn't taken his eyes off of me since the beginning of the show. Well, unless he was at the piano, but other than that, his eyes were on me.
"...I've got more wit, a better kiss
A hotter touch, a better fuck
Than any boy you'll ever meet
Sweetie, you have me..."
I heard the subtle change to my lyrics and shivered. He was singing to me. I knew it. It had been like this ever since that night. Sure, he flirted with me a lot before then, but now...
"...Let's get these teen hearts beating
Faster, faster..."
I suddenly realized why he had asked me to sing that part when he smirked at me. It had been almost a week.
"Faster... faster, Bren..."
I could feel the heat going to my face even as I pushed the thought away. I was NOT falling for Brendon, whatever noises he managed to make me produce while doing naughty things to my body. Not that anything had happened since then.
"...Will you dance to this beat
And hold a lover close..."
The way he sang, even though he was at the piano so he wasn't looking at me, made me feel naked. I blushed even more, glad for the excuse of overexertion.
"...You're so perfect, Bren..."
Why couldn't I get his face out of my head? Okay, so we did some stuff, and yeah, it was amazing. But I didn't, you know, like him that way. I just... ugh, this was frustrating.
Brendon started up 'But It's Better If You Do' and I felt relieved. At least he couldn't subtly change a word or two and make it directed at me.
"...And isn't this exactly where you like me
I'm exactly where you like me you know
Praying for love in a lap dance
And paying in naivety..."
He stood from his bench and began wandering the stage as he sang the chorus. As he passed me, he grabbed my ass with a little more meaning than he usually would and casually pecked me on the back of my neck as he went to go sit back down. I was sure my face was bright red by now, but I kept my head down and concentrated on my guitar.
"...Brend-ah! Oh god... Please..."
I tried not to stumble over my words or notes as we finished the set and as we walked off stage, my feet as well. I was the first one back to the bus and I quickly stripped off my sweaty stage clothes and stepped into the shower.
I didn't even hear the door open again over the sound of the water.
"Ryan?"
I froze. Brendon couldn't see me through the glazed glass door, but he knew I was in here. I tried to ignore him.
"Ryan, I just... I wanted to apologize. I, uh... I didn't mean to make you mad... please don't be mad at me, I just really..."
"I'm not mad at you," I muttered as I rinsed off, barely loud enough to be heard over the water.
"You... you're not?"
I shut off the water and grabbed my towel, quickly getting off most of the water before wrapping it around my waist and stepping out. Brendon was standing in front of the door, his head down and his fingers clasped together. He honestly thought he had done something wrong.
"No, I'm not. Why should I be mad at you?"
He bit his lip. "Because I thought... you and me... but you..."
I stepped forward and tipped his chin up to look at me.
"You don't feel the same way I do, do you?"
I felt like a giant red-hot poker had been stabbed into my chest then, that very real sadness in his eyes eating at my insides like maggots. Brendon didn't usually cry, but damn did he look close to doing so. I felt horrible.
I wanted to tell him. I wanted to make him feel better. But how could I ever tell him the truth? How could I ever admit it to myself even?
"Bren, I... I don't know how to say this..." I bit my lip, looking anywhere but his deep, soulful brown eyes. I tried to quell the nerves, the guilt, the panic. If I didn't tell him or somehow cheer him back up, I was sure that the look in his eyes would kill me.
"Then don't," he whispered, catching my eyes. "Show me."
Without further instruction, I grabbed both lapels of his jacket and pulled him into a fierce kiss, not really caring if I got him wet. His lips curved against mine in a soft smile, and he wrapped his arms around my waist.
Before I knew it, he had me shoved up against the bathroom door, attacking my neck and gently removing my towel. I pushed his jacket off, and the both of us fumbled to get the rest of his clothes off. He kicked his boots and pants off with a little bit of difficulty and immediately pressed as much of his bare skin to mine as was humanly possible.
"Oh god... Please...," I muttered in his ear as he bucked against me, his hands on my face, in my hair.
As he continued to tease me, I slid my hands down his back to his ass, which I found rather intriguing. Each cheek was plump and round, and fit exactly in the palm of my hand.
"Bren...," I groaned, squeezing his ass for emphasis. "Want... need... you..."
He exhaled against my neck, reaching out to the sink for the soap dispenser. I didn't even care if he used lube at that moment, I was just glad to feel his fingers slide inside, massaging, stretching, moving. Not that I needed much preparation; after last week, I was ready as ever.
His fingers left me after a minute, and he picked me up, pulling my legs to wrap around his hips. He let me slide down onto his cock, keeping me held up with his hands clamped under my thighs and his weight pressing me back against the door.
As he began to move, I threw my arms around his neck and squeezed his waist with my legs, fearful of him dropping me even though he had a bruising grip on my thighs and I didn't really weigh that much. The door creaked with each thrust and our breath came in hushed whispers.
"Oh, god... you're so perfect, Bren..."
He groaned into my chest and his fingertips clenched harder around my thighs. I kissed the top of his head and ran my fingers up the back of his neck, tangling them in the short hairs at the back of his head. Our gasps and moans became almost song-like, and I vaguely thought about writing that down until a tongue laved at my nipple.
"Faster... faster, Bren..."
I could feel him bite his lip against my chest as he picked up the pace. His nails began to dig into my thighs, but I didn't care. The sweet pull-push of Brendon's cock inside of me was all that mattered. Brendon was all that mattered.
"Oh, fuck... Bren-ah!"
Every muscle in my body tensed and convulsed as I reached orgasm, muffling my cries in his hair. I whimpered with every thrust afterward as he finished himself off, and I could feel his hot seed filling me.
Brendon hadn't even put me down when a knock came to the door at my back. Jon's half-amused voice floated in to us as we stared at each other in horror.
"Uhm... do you guys mind? I, uh, gotta piss."
-----
A/N: Offtopic but, HAPPY BIRTHDAY SPENCER!