Just Breathe [NaNoRyRo 7]
Title: Just Breathe [NaNoRyRo 7]
Author: meiloslyther
Rating: NC-17
Pairing: Rywald
POV: 1st, Ryan's
Summary: Ryan thinks he's a freak. No one else is convinced.
Word Count: 1,595
Disclaimer: Not my boys, never happened. Don't Google yourselves, kids. Especially you, Bden, I see you lurking over there. *SpencerSmithglare*
Beta: None.
Author Notes: chokeonirony's prompt: How about breathplay kink? idc 'bout the pairing. it could involve tons of angst and "am I a freak?" self-doubt, all culminating in comfort and then ridiculous hot sex.
'09 NaNoRyRo Masterlist
I knew about it long before I was even old enough to understand it. As a kid, I held my breath for fun. Being out of breath after a good run never bothered me. In fact, not being able to breathe gave me a sort of rush that nothing else could come close to.
As I grew into a teenager and puberty hit, like all other young boys, I suddenly realized that my dick was for more than just taking a piss and generally being in the way. I found out that touching it a certain way felt really good, and making myself come felt even better.
I also learned that holding my breath as I ran a hand up and down my cock, flicking my wrist the way only I knew how to and thumbing my slit, made me come that much harder and faster.
"What gets you off?" I asked Spencer a couple of years later. It was almost midnight and we lay awake, curled up on our sides facing each other.
He shrugged; he was used to me asking extremely personal questions and the exchanges of top-secret information that would occur. "Usually I just think about some hot girl. I don't know."
"You mean there's not something that, you know, gets you off faster than that?"
"Not that I can think of." He sat up on one elbow then, looking down at me. "What exactly are you getting at here, Ry? Is there something like that for you?"
I nodded, looking away from him. Somehow, the knowledge of my personal kink not being Spencer's as well made me feel like an outsider, a weirdo. We agreed on everything, we did everything together, and this was almost like a slap in the face.
He rested a hand on my shoulder and waited for me to look him in the eye again. "You're not weird," he whispered, reading my thoughts through my eyes. "I'm just one person, Ry. A thirteen year old person, at that."
I was seventeen when I lost my virginity to my first girlfriend. I was eighteen when Pete signed our band. I was nearly twenty before I became close enough to Brendon to ask him the same question I asked Spencer when I was only fourteen.
"What gets you off?"
Brendon was lying on his back in the next bed over in our shared hotel room, hands shoved under his pillow. "I dunno. Girls, I suppose." He turned his head to look at me. "Why, are you gay or something?"
I glared at him, even though it was a question I had yet to fully answer even to myself.
"Hey, I'm not saying I'm hating or anything," he added quickly, getting up to sit on the edge of my bed. "I mean, it's totally cool with me if you're gay."
"I'm not gay," I deadpanned, successfully keeping the uncertainty out of my voice.
"Okay, okay, I believe you," he conceded, holding up his hands. "I'm just saying, what else could you get off on besides girls or dudes?"
I shook my head. "It's stupid. I'm probably just a freak for even-"
"No," he interrupted, lying next to me and facing me. "Look, I was raised Mormon and I know I don't know shit about sex, alright? Hell, I'm still a fucking virgin, Ry." He placed a hand on my cheek, forcing my embarrassed eyes to meet his. "But I do know that you're not a freak, whatever it is that gets you off."
I smiled weakly at him. "Thanks, Bren."
I still ended up never telling anyone, convinced I was a freak, someone to be scorned and laughed at. I was strange. Breath play was dangerous, taboo, deadly even. With the use of the internet, I found it was called asphyxiophilia.
I was twenty-one when I met Alex Greenwald face to face, and it was only a year later that Jon and I left Panic to form The Young Veins. Alex was around a lot; he ended up recording quite a few tracks on the album, even producing it for us, and he easily became a constant figure in my life. It had only been a short while since I had officially given up on girls altogether, and I had long since given up trying to reassure myself that I wasn't a freak when it came to my kink.
Somehow, I ended up with Alex.
"What do you like?" he whispered in my ear. He was straddling me on my bed, his mouth wandering over my neck, and his words almost sounded like, What gets you off? only they felt more like, Tell me what to do. "I'm tired of all this domestic, vanilla sex bullshit."
I almost told him to choke me without hesitation, but I shook my head instead. "It's weird."
"Try me."
I hesitated. "I like being... choked," I whispered, barely able to hear myself.
He smiled down at me warmly, petting my hair. "That's not weird, Ry. My only question is," he muttered, unbuttoning my shirt. "Do you trust me?"
"Yes," I replied, no hesitation whatsoever.
He smirked then, sitting back up to pull off his shirt as I shrugged out of mine. He went for my pants next, tugging them off and leaving me in my boxers as he quickly removed his own jeans.
Before I could even think, he had a hand around my neck, pressing down enough to feel, but not enough to completely block my airway. I gasped in surprise, or tried to, and suddenly I was harder than I had ever been in my life.
"Fuck, that's hot," Alex muttered, watching me struggle for air.
I rolled my hips against his, and he let go of me, hastily shoving our boxers off and digging into my nightstand for lube and a condom. Slicking up his fingers, he eased one inside of me, his other hand lightly caressing my neck. He worked up to three fingers fairly quickly, curling his fingers into my prostate and making me groan quietly.
"If I go too far," he began as he slid his fingers out, carefully rolling the condom on before coating his cock with lube. "Or you feel like you're gonna pass out, just tap my arm. I don't want to hurt you."
I nodded, waiting for him to finally get around to the fucking bit.
He dug his nails into my side, making me let out a discontented noise. "Did you hear me?"
"I fucking heard you, Alex."
"You heard me but do you get what I'm saying? This is some dangerous shit and I'm only gonna do it for you if you're gonna be fucking smart about it," he growled, poking my sternum. "So, safe word. Tap my arm. Got it?"
"I fucking got it, just... fuck, Alex, please..."
He kissed the inside of my thigh before lining up and pushing in slowly, the familiar burn still making me wince in pain. He stayed still until I nodded, letting him know that I had adjusted enough for him to finally move.
Shifting his weight, he pressed his hand to my neck again, hard enough to make my breath come in sharp wheezing gasps. He picked up a rather fast paced rhythm, angling for my prostate with each thrust. My moans came out as squeaks and every other noise I made sounded like a death rattle, but Alex seemed to be getting off on it as much as I was.
"Harder," I rasped, one arm wrapped around his waist and the other around his neck. My eyes rolled back into my head as his hips moved faster at the exact same time he pressed more weight onto my neck, almost completely constricting my windpipe.
Fuck, I mouthed, unable to gather enough air to make my vocal chords vibrate. My lungs were straining to take in air, and the feeling just pushed me closer to the edge, my back arching slightly. I met Alex's eyes and nodded minutely, letting him know that he could completely cut off my air, rolling my hips to meet his bruising thrusts.
He groaned, putting as much of his weight onto the hand on my neck as he dared, and I officially couldn't breathe, my lungs trying for it but failing. I was so close, but after not being able to breathe very well before having my supply completely cut off, I knew I couldn't last long. My vision started to fade, black creeping in on the edges, and I felt myself struggle as if I were only an onlooker. I let myself get almost to the point of panic before tapping Alex's arm, as I knew he wasn't paying attention, if the blissed-out look on his face was any indication.
He removed his hand faster than if I had been on fire, a gasped, "Sorry," escaping his lips.
All it took for me to come was the sudden intake of breath, air refilling my deprived lungs as white streaked my stomach and chest. I let out a soft moan as I came down, letting my eyes fall closed when I felt Alex tense and groan above me, and I knew he had come as well.
I felt him pull out carefully before he collapsed next to me, tugging me close.
"Ry?"
I cracked my eyes open to look over at him, and he smiled at me.
"You're not a freak."
I smiled then, letting my eyes close again as I snuggled into him. "Thank you."
Author: meiloslyther
Rating: NC-17
Pairing: Rywald
POV: 1st, Ryan's
Summary: Ryan thinks he's a freak. No one else is convinced.
Word Count: 1,595
Disclaimer: Not my boys, never happened. Don't Google yourselves, kids. Especially you, Bden, I see you lurking over there. *SpencerSmithglare*
Beta: None.
Author Notes: chokeonirony's prompt: How about breathplay kink? idc 'bout the pairing. it could involve tons of angst and "am I a freak?" self-doubt, all culminating in comfort and then ridiculous hot sex.
'09 NaNoRyRo Masterlist
I knew about it long before I was even old enough to understand it. As a kid, I held my breath for fun. Being out of breath after a good run never bothered me. In fact, not being able to breathe gave me a sort of rush that nothing else could come close to.
As I grew into a teenager and puberty hit, like all other young boys, I suddenly realized that my dick was for more than just taking a piss and generally being in the way. I found out that touching it a certain way felt really good, and making myself come felt even better.
I also learned that holding my breath as I ran a hand up and down my cock, flicking my wrist the way only I knew how to and thumbing my slit, made me come that much harder and faster.
"What gets you off?" I asked Spencer a couple of years later. It was almost midnight and we lay awake, curled up on our sides facing each other.
He shrugged; he was used to me asking extremely personal questions and the exchanges of top-secret information that would occur. "Usually I just think about some hot girl. I don't know."
"You mean there's not something that, you know, gets you off faster than that?"
"Not that I can think of." He sat up on one elbow then, looking down at me. "What exactly are you getting at here, Ry? Is there something like that for you?"
I nodded, looking away from him. Somehow, the knowledge of my personal kink not being Spencer's as well made me feel like an outsider, a weirdo. We agreed on everything, we did everything together, and this was almost like a slap in the face.
He rested a hand on my shoulder and waited for me to look him in the eye again. "You're not weird," he whispered, reading my thoughts through my eyes. "I'm just one person, Ry. A thirteen year old person, at that."
I was seventeen when I lost my virginity to my first girlfriend. I was eighteen when Pete signed our band. I was nearly twenty before I became close enough to Brendon to ask him the same question I asked Spencer when I was only fourteen.
"What gets you off?"
Brendon was lying on his back in the next bed over in our shared hotel room, hands shoved under his pillow. "I dunno. Girls, I suppose." He turned his head to look at me. "Why, are you gay or something?"
I glared at him, even though it was a question I had yet to fully answer even to myself.
"Hey, I'm not saying I'm hating or anything," he added quickly, getting up to sit on the edge of my bed. "I mean, it's totally cool with me if you're gay."
"I'm not gay," I deadpanned, successfully keeping the uncertainty out of my voice.
"Okay, okay, I believe you," he conceded, holding up his hands. "I'm just saying, what else could you get off on besides girls or dudes?"
I shook my head. "It's stupid. I'm probably just a freak for even-"
"No," he interrupted, lying next to me and facing me. "Look, I was raised Mormon and I know I don't know shit about sex, alright? Hell, I'm still a fucking virgin, Ry." He placed a hand on my cheek, forcing my embarrassed eyes to meet his. "But I do know that you're not a freak, whatever it is that gets you off."
I smiled weakly at him. "Thanks, Bren."
I still ended up never telling anyone, convinced I was a freak, someone to be scorned and laughed at. I was strange. Breath play was dangerous, taboo, deadly even. With the use of the internet, I found it was called asphyxiophilia.
I was twenty-one when I met Alex Greenwald face to face, and it was only a year later that Jon and I left Panic to form The Young Veins. Alex was around a lot; he ended up recording quite a few tracks on the album, even producing it for us, and he easily became a constant figure in my life. It had only been a short while since I had officially given up on girls altogether, and I had long since given up trying to reassure myself that I wasn't a freak when it came to my kink.
Somehow, I ended up with Alex.
"What do you like?" he whispered in my ear. He was straddling me on my bed, his mouth wandering over my neck, and his words almost sounded like, What gets you off? only they felt more like, Tell me what to do. "I'm tired of all this domestic, vanilla sex bullshit."
I almost told him to choke me without hesitation, but I shook my head instead. "It's weird."
"Try me."
I hesitated. "I like being... choked," I whispered, barely able to hear myself.
He smiled down at me warmly, petting my hair. "That's not weird, Ry. My only question is," he muttered, unbuttoning my shirt. "Do you trust me?"
"Yes," I replied, no hesitation whatsoever.
He smirked then, sitting back up to pull off his shirt as I shrugged out of mine. He went for my pants next, tugging them off and leaving me in my boxers as he quickly removed his own jeans.
Before I could even think, he had a hand around my neck, pressing down enough to feel, but not enough to completely block my airway. I gasped in surprise, or tried to, and suddenly I was harder than I had ever been in my life.
"Fuck, that's hot," Alex muttered, watching me struggle for air.
I rolled my hips against his, and he let go of me, hastily shoving our boxers off and digging into my nightstand for lube and a condom. Slicking up his fingers, he eased one inside of me, his other hand lightly caressing my neck. He worked up to three fingers fairly quickly, curling his fingers into my prostate and making me groan quietly.
"If I go too far," he began as he slid his fingers out, carefully rolling the condom on before coating his cock with lube. "Or you feel like you're gonna pass out, just tap my arm. I don't want to hurt you."
I nodded, waiting for him to finally get around to the fucking bit.
He dug his nails into my side, making me let out a discontented noise. "Did you hear me?"
"I fucking heard you, Alex."
"You heard me but do you get what I'm saying? This is some dangerous shit and I'm only gonna do it for you if you're gonna be fucking smart about it," he growled, poking my sternum. "So, safe word. Tap my arm. Got it?"
"I fucking got it, just... fuck, Alex, please..."
He kissed the inside of my thigh before lining up and pushing in slowly, the familiar burn still making me wince in pain. He stayed still until I nodded, letting him know that I had adjusted enough for him to finally move.
Shifting his weight, he pressed his hand to my neck again, hard enough to make my breath come in sharp wheezing gasps. He picked up a rather fast paced rhythm, angling for my prostate with each thrust. My moans came out as squeaks and every other noise I made sounded like a death rattle, but Alex seemed to be getting off on it as much as I was.
"Harder," I rasped, one arm wrapped around his waist and the other around his neck. My eyes rolled back into my head as his hips moved faster at the exact same time he pressed more weight onto my neck, almost completely constricting my windpipe.
Fuck, I mouthed, unable to gather enough air to make my vocal chords vibrate. My lungs were straining to take in air, and the feeling just pushed me closer to the edge, my back arching slightly. I met Alex's eyes and nodded minutely, letting him know that he could completely cut off my air, rolling my hips to meet his bruising thrusts.
He groaned, putting as much of his weight onto the hand on my neck as he dared, and I officially couldn't breathe, my lungs trying for it but failing. I was so close, but after not being able to breathe very well before having my supply completely cut off, I knew I couldn't last long. My vision started to fade, black creeping in on the edges, and I felt myself struggle as if I were only an onlooker. I let myself get almost to the point of panic before tapping Alex's arm, as I knew he wasn't paying attention, if the blissed-out look on his face was any indication.
He removed his hand faster than if I had been on fire, a gasped, "Sorry," escaping his lips.
All it took for me to come was the sudden intake of breath, air refilling my deprived lungs as white streaked my stomach and chest. I let out a soft moan as I came down, letting my eyes fall closed when I felt Alex tense and groan above me, and I knew he had come as well.
I felt him pull out carefully before he collapsed next to me, tugging me close.
"Ry?"
I cracked my eyes open to look over at him, and he smiled at me.
"You're not a freak."
I smiled then, letting my eyes close again as I snuggled into him. "Thank you."