If You're Not Trembling, You Better Be [s/a]
Title: If You're Not Trembling, You Better Be [s/a]
Author: meiloslyther
Rating: NC-17
Pairing: Rywalk (brief mentions of Rydon, Spyro, Ryan/Pete, and Jondon)
POV: 3rd, omniscient
Summary: Ryan's high and horny, but Jon's not very happy about it.
Word Count: 1,320
Disclaimer: Not my boys, never happened. Don't Google yourselves, kids.
Beta: phoenix_vixen
Author Notes: Inspired by "Wolf In Sheep's Clothing" by This Providence, so go listen to it if you're curious. This is my obligatory post-split/Slut!Ryan fic all in one. Also my first Rywalk ever (even though it wasn't posted first), so be nice.
Jon was sitting on Ryan's leather couch, trying to pack another bowl of weed when Ryan climbed into his lap, straddling his hips.
"Jon Walker, you are a sexy beast," Ryan muttered, low and in that perfect monotone that didn't feel like a monotone.
"What do you want, Ryan?"
"Jon, I am offended," he replied, laying a long hand over his chest, his face crumpling in mock hurt. For some reason, Ryan acted a lot like Brendon when he was high, except for the hyper part. "Besides, I don't want anything you wouldn't give me anyway," he added huskily, leaning in to Jon's ear.
"You don't have to straddle me and call me sexy to get my weed, Ross," Jon replied with a laugh.
"I don't want your weed," Ryan corrected, hands trailing down Jon's chest. He was just high enough that it wasn't creepy; yet. "I want your cock, Jon," Ryan whispered into Jon's ear, his hands finally coming to rest on Jon's crotch.
Jon froze but then realized what was going on, narrowing his eyes at his younger band mate. "When you were with Brendon and Spencer last night, what did Brendon give you?"
"Nothing I can't handle," Ryan answered with a devious grin and a quirk of his eyebrow. He couldn't resist the double entendre.
"I meant drugs, asshole. That bastard gave you E, didn't he?"
Ryan just giggled. "Maybe." Bony hands went for Jon's belt, but he stopped them quickly. "C'mon, Walker, live a little. Brendon said I gave him the ride of his life last night."
"Well, you and Brendon can fuck all you want when you're fucked up on drugs, but I'm not going to, Ryan."
"Even Spencer liked it. Said I was still so tight even after Brendon. And Brendon fucked me twice."
Damn Ross and his dirty talk, Jon thought as Ryan's voice went straight to his cock, the memory of his tight ass already making him hard.
"Ryan, get off of me. I'm not having sex with you when you're fucked up."
"Jon, please. I need you," Ryan whined, pressing Jon's hands to his own crotch. His cock was already straining against his jeans and he pushed his hips forward into Jon's hands.
"Shit," Jon sighed, resigning himself. He quickly removed Ryan's shirt and shoved Ryan down onto the couch. Ryan purred and let Jon manhandle him, tugging his jeans off hastily.
Jon grinned deviously as he unbuttoned his own shirt, already scheming. He flipped Ryan over onto his stomach, tying his wrists together over his head with his shirt.
"Jon...," Ryan whimpered, squirming uselessly. Jon knew that Ryan liked to touch during sex, but Jon wasn't about to let him do that. Ryan figured this was his punishment for being drugged up.
Kicking off his own jeans, Jon found Ryan's mouth with his hand and Ryan greedily sucked in three fingers, wetting them. When Jon was satisfied, he pulled them out and shoved the first two inside Ryan without any warning.
Ryan cried out but pushed back against Jon's hand anyway, needy, desperate. Jon twisted his wrist, pulling a groan from Ryan's throat. Jon forced a third finger in and watched Ryan's knuckles turn white as he gripped the couch cushions.
"Jon, fuck... come on, please."
Jon gave his wrist one last twist before pulling his hand out and spitting in it, coating his dick. Ryan tried to push himself up on his knees, but Jon held him down with one hand at the base of his spine, the other guiding his cock into Ryan's ass.
"Oh, fuck yeah," Ryan moaned, one foot finding purchase against the carpeted floor as he thrust back onto Jon. He liked Jon holding him down a little more than should be healthy.
"I am going to fucking kill Brendon," Jon growled, bruising Ryan's bony hips with his fingertips as he thrusted hard; Ryan had always preferred it rough. "Or fuck him until he can't walk then kill him. Either way, Urie is so dead."
"Don't - mmh - blame Brendon. Ah-I asked - oh - for it. Oh fuck, Jon."
"Shut up, slut," Jon commanded, smacking Ryan's ass. Ryan's back arched and he moaned loudly, his muscles straining as he thrusted back against Jon. "Fuck, you're so tight, Ross. How can you be so tight when you're such a little whore?"
Ryan groaned even louder when Jon gave him another harsh spank. He knew he was a whore, was used to getting called a slut on a regular basis, so it wasn't much of an insult anymore. But the way Jon said it, it was almost painful. He tried his best to ignore it.
The sharp sound of skin slapping skin mingling with Ryan's grunts and moans was more obscene than any porno Jon had ever seen. Everything about Ryan just screamed sex; from his thin but muscular legs, his round little ass, his slender waist, and the gentle curve of his spine to his skinny wrists, spider-like hands, and god, his eyes were to die for. Ryan Ross was sex personified, and right now he was all Jon's, which was saying something because several different people had Ryan in a week. Namely Brendon and Spencer, but most were just nameless. When he was still friends with Pete, they'd get together whenever they were around each other, but after the falling out when he and Jon left Panic...
"Fuck, come on, faster. Right there, fuck yes."
Brendon was definitely going to die for this. Ryan was pretty sure he was going to be sore for a week at least.
The both of them were covered in sweat now, and it was rolling down Jon's nose, dripping down to Ryan's spine where it continued on to his ass in small rivers. Jon's fingers were slipping on Ryan's hips, digging in harder just to keep his grip.
Suddenly Ryan tensed, going a familiar kind of still before he screamed, coming hard against the couch cushions. Jon just kept going, fucking him through it until he fell limp because Jon had always liked a loose and pliant Ryan, finally coming when Ryan whimpered from overstimulation.
Jon pulled out and stood up when he finally thought he could, his knees sticking to the couch. He untied Ryan before walking to the bathroom to take a shower.
Ryan groaned a little as he pushed himself up off the couch, his chest and thighs sticking to the cushions. He stretched out the knee that had been shoved into the back of the couch and worked his shoulders a little before standing, wincing. He looked back at the cushion, grimacing at the mess he had made and he had never been happier to have a leather couch.
***
"Jon, hey man, how are ya?"
Jon rolled his eyes, glad Brendon couldn't see him. "I'm just fine. But I really hate you right now."
"What for?"
"You know exactly what for, Brendon. You know I hate it when Ryan's on anything harder than weed."
Brendon laughed. "Just trying to spice up you guys' sex lives. Ryan said he hasn't been getting as much since you guys left."
"Fuck you, Urie. You know as well as I do that Ryan's a little hoebag and gets plenty of sex."
"Not from you, apparently. You know that's what he wants, Jon. He wants you because you can give him what he needs. You can satisfy Ryan the way no one else ever could. Think about that."
Jon was silent as Brendon hung up on him.
"Brendon?" Ryan asked, flopping down on the couch he had cleaned meticulously the night before and snuggling into Jon's side.
"Yeah," Jon replied, closing his phone. He threw his arm around Ryan's shoulders and let him cuddle for a bit.
Ryan stayed home that night instead of going out to some bar, falling asleep contentedly against Jon's chest. They hadn't even had sex.
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A/N: HAPPY BIRTHDAY, JON WALKER! :D
Author: meiloslyther
Rating: NC-17
Pairing: Rywalk (brief mentions of Rydon, Spyro, Ryan/Pete, and Jondon)
POV: 3rd, omniscient
Summary: Ryan's high and horny, but Jon's not very happy about it.
Word Count: 1,320
Disclaimer: Not my boys, never happened. Don't Google yourselves, kids.
Beta: phoenix_vixen
Author Notes: Inspired by "Wolf In Sheep's Clothing" by This Providence, so go listen to it if you're curious. This is my obligatory post-split/Slut!Ryan fic all in one. Also my first Rywalk ever (even though it wasn't posted first), so be nice.
Jon was sitting on Ryan's leather couch, trying to pack another bowl of weed when Ryan climbed into his lap, straddling his hips.
"Jon Walker, you are a sexy beast," Ryan muttered, low and in that perfect monotone that didn't feel like a monotone.
"What do you want, Ryan?"
"Jon, I am offended," he replied, laying a long hand over his chest, his face crumpling in mock hurt. For some reason, Ryan acted a lot like Brendon when he was high, except for the hyper part. "Besides, I don't want anything you wouldn't give me anyway," he added huskily, leaning in to Jon's ear.
"You don't have to straddle me and call me sexy to get my weed, Ross," Jon replied with a laugh.
"I don't want your weed," Ryan corrected, hands trailing down Jon's chest. He was just high enough that it wasn't creepy; yet. "I want your cock, Jon," Ryan whispered into Jon's ear, his hands finally coming to rest on Jon's crotch.
Jon froze but then realized what was going on, narrowing his eyes at his younger band mate. "When you were with Brendon and Spencer last night, what did Brendon give you?"
"Nothing I can't handle," Ryan answered with a devious grin and a quirk of his eyebrow. He couldn't resist the double entendre.
"I meant drugs, asshole. That bastard gave you E, didn't he?"
Ryan just giggled. "Maybe." Bony hands went for Jon's belt, but he stopped them quickly. "C'mon, Walker, live a little. Brendon said I gave him the ride of his life last night."
"Well, you and Brendon can fuck all you want when you're fucked up on drugs, but I'm not going to, Ryan."
"Even Spencer liked it. Said I was still so tight even after Brendon. And Brendon fucked me twice."
Damn Ross and his dirty talk, Jon thought as Ryan's voice went straight to his cock, the memory of his tight ass already making him hard.
"Ryan, get off of me. I'm not having sex with you when you're fucked up."
"Jon, please. I need you," Ryan whined, pressing Jon's hands to his own crotch. His cock was already straining against his jeans and he pushed his hips forward into Jon's hands.
"Shit," Jon sighed, resigning himself. He quickly removed Ryan's shirt and shoved Ryan down onto the couch. Ryan purred and let Jon manhandle him, tugging his jeans off hastily.
Jon grinned deviously as he unbuttoned his own shirt, already scheming. He flipped Ryan over onto his stomach, tying his wrists together over his head with his shirt.
"Jon...," Ryan whimpered, squirming uselessly. Jon knew that Ryan liked to touch during sex, but Jon wasn't about to let him do that. Ryan figured this was his punishment for being drugged up.
Kicking off his own jeans, Jon found Ryan's mouth with his hand and Ryan greedily sucked in three fingers, wetting them. When Jon was satisfied, he pulled them out and shoved the first two inside Ryan without any warning.
Ryan cried out but pushed back against Jon's hand anyway, needy, desperate. Jon twisted his wrist, pulling a groan from Ryan's throat. Jon forced a third finger in and watched Ryan's knuckles turn white as he gripped the couch cushions.
"Jon, fuck... come on, please."
Jon gave his wrist one last twist before pulling his hand out and spitting in it, coating his dick. Ryan tried to push himself up on his knees, but Jon held him down with one hand at the base of his spine, the other guiding his cock into Ryan's ass.
"Oh, fuck yeah," Ryan moaned, one foot finding purchase against the carpeted floor as he thrust back onto Jon. He liked Jon holding him down a little more than should be healthy.
"I am going to fucking kill Brendon," Jon growled, bruising Ryan's bony hips with his fingertips as he thrusted hard; Ryan had always preferred it rough. "Or fuck him until he can't walk then kill him. Either way, Urie is so dead."
"Don't - mmh - blame Brendon. Ah-I asked - oh - for it. Oh fuck, Jon."
"Shut up, slut," Jon commanded, smacking Ryan's ass. Ryan's back arched and he moaned loudly, his muscles straining as he thrusted back against Jon. "Fuck, you're so tight, Ross. How can you be so tight when you're such a little whore?"
Ryan groaned even louder when Jon gave him another harsh spank. He knew he was a whore, was used to getting called a slut on a regular basis, so it wasn't much of an insult anymore. But the way Jon said it, it was almost painful. He tried his best to ignore it.
The sharp sound of skin slapping skin mingling with Ryan's grunts and moans was more obscene than any porno Jon had ever seen. Everything about Ryan just screamed sex; from his thin but muscular legs, his round little ass, his slender waist, and the gentle curve of his spine to his skinny wrists, spider-like hands, and god, his eyes were to die for. Ryan Ross was sex personified, and right now he was all Jon's, which was saying something because several different people had Ryan in a week. Namely Brendon and Spencer, but most were just nameless. When he was still friends with Pete, they'd get together whenever they were around each other, but after the falling out when he and Jon left Panic...
"Fuck, come on, faster. Right there, fuck yes."
Brendon was definitely going to die for this. Ryan was pretty sure he was going to be sore for a week at least.
The both of them were covered in sweat now, and it was rolling down Jon's nose, dripping down to Ryan's spine where it continued on to his ass in small rivers. Jon's fingers were slipping on Ryan's hips, digging in harder just to keep his grip.
Suddenly Ryan tensed, going a familiar kind of still before he screamed, coming hard against the couch cushions. Jon just kept going, fucking him through it until he fell limp because Jon had always liked a loose and pliant Ryan, finally coming when Ryan whimpered from overstimulation.
Jon pulled out and stood up when he finally thought he could, his knees sticking to the couch. He untied Ryan before walking to the bathroom to take a shower.
Ryan groaned a little as he pushed himself up off the couch, his chest and thighs sticking to the cushions. He stretched out the knee that had been shoved into the back of the couch and worked his shoulders a little before standing, wincing. He looked back at the cushion, grimacing at the mess he had made and he had never been happier to have a leather couch.
***
"Jon, hey man, how are ya?"
Jon rolled his eyes, glad Brendon couldn't see him. "I'm just fine. But I really hate you right now."
"What for?"
"You know exactly what for, Brendon. You know I hate it when Ryan's on anything harder than weed."
Brendon laughed. "Just trying to spice up you guys' sex lives. Ryan said he hasn't been getting as much since you guys left."
"Fuck you, Urie. You know as well as I do that Ryan's a little hoebag and gets plenty of sex."
"Not from you, apparently. You know that's what he wants, Jon. He wants you because you can give him what he needs. You can satisfy Ryan the way no one else ever could. Think about that."
Jon was silent as Brendon hung up on him.
"Brendon?" Ryan asked, flopping down on the couch he had cleaned meticulously the night before and snuggling into Jon's side.
"Yeah," Jon replied, closing his phone. He threw his arm around Ryan's shoulders and let him cuddle for a bit.
Ryan stayed home that night instead of going out to some bar, falling asleep contentedly against Jon's chest. They hadn't even had sex.
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A/N: HAPPY BIRTHDAY, JON WALKER! :D