Epic absence is epic
So. I'm here. I'm alive. It's only been years since I posted anything and for a while there, I thought I was done with fan fiction, bandom and all of that, actually writing novelish things. All that time, random documents about bandom boys piled up on my hard drive. I might as well get rid of that stuff and stop kidding myself. First off, Chronicles. Cause I will never not love that world.
Author:raven29121982
Title: Speed Trials
Rating: NC - 17
Pairing: Shane/Spencer, Spencer/Ryan
Warnings: as per usual. D/s themes, whipping, language
Whatever the net says, and seriously, FUCK the net, it’s not actually Ryan breaking them up. It’s not Brendon kicking Ryan out or Jon walking away or any of those things. It’s, quite plainly, the music’s fault and it really is that simple. That’s also why it’s so hard to take, cause Spencer hadn’t seen this coming, hasn’t anticipated a moment when the word band and Ryan’s name weren’t all but synonymous.
When Spencer realizes he’s for once not on the same side of the fence as Ryan, the situation crashes down on Spencer like it’s the end of the fucking world and he can’t even lie to himself about it. He wants Brendon as a vocalist and finally tells Ryan just that, after a lot of awkward shrugs and silences. Ryan nods and walks away to find Jon. Spencer just sits there and stares at the drum kit and the abandoned guitar and he’s freaking out. He’s not shouting and punching walls, he’s not that kind of guy, but he can’t move. He can’t breathe, he can’t even cry.
Brendon pokes his head in the door and turns away without a word and Shane comes in three heartbeats later, sitting down on the floor a little bit further away then he usually would. He doesn’t say anything, doesn’t give Spencer a chance to tell him to fuck off and mind his own business, he just waits.
It’s the Valdez-stealth-way that always, always works. Eventually, after a year of silence and three million pictures shattering in Spencer’s brain, Spencer’s eyes find Shane’s. Spencer doesn’t want to think about the look on Shane’s face, doesn’t want to know. It’s tender and a little scared and so goddamn fucking understanding Spencer drowns in it.
“Shane, I… I need,” Spencer chokes out and he can’t say anything else, he can’t explain. He remembers how Brendon and Ryan have been recently, how they’ve desperately tried getting under each other’s skin just to hold on to something they’ve felt slipping away with every song they didn’t write. How they’ve been hurting each other just to feel. Spencer needs. Everything, anything at all. Just something to reassure him he’s still on the planet, cause it sure as hell doesn’t feel like it.
Shane gets up and holds out his hand.
“Come on. Bedroom.” Spencer stumbles after him not looking back at the abandoned practise space. He gets his clothes off when Shane tells him to and lies down. He can’t even remember how to fight right now.
“Spence, I’m gonna tie you up, okay? Just… tell me if anything’s up. You can safe-word if you want to, but I’ll stop if you just say, okay?”
Spencer makes himself nod cause he knows Shane will go no further if he doesn’t, but his head’s too full and too empty at the same time and he isn’t even really listening. He doesn’t really remember fear right now, everything’s a distant echo of emotions he only vaguely recalls. Shane sighs and leans in to kiss the back of his neck.
“Fuck, Spence. I love you.”
Yeah. That. Spencer doesn’t reply, cause for all his faults, he isn’t a liar. Right now, he doesn’t even know the meaning of that word. He feels the soft leather of the restraints on his wrists and ankles, not the ones Jon gave Shane and him a lifetime ago, but older, more worn ones that aren’t as padded and close with a simple Velcro ribbon instead of metal buckles. Spencer’s brain only briefly computes “soft” before switching off again, toppling over thoughts and random sentences like he’s not even in control of any of them anymore.
The first lash across his back takes him completely by surprise, a dull thud he can’t quite place. It doesn’t hurt as such, it’s just a heavy blow to his shoulder blades without any real sting to it and he gasps, burying his head in the cushions. It’s definitely not a belt, he knows that much. Some sort of flogger, probably, something intended to bruise rather then break. Shane puts a good bit of force behind it, but he’s not aiming to hurt. It feels like he’s knocking bricks off Spencer’s walls and he’s doing a damn good job, too. By ten or maybe fifteen strokes, Spencer’s already lost count and he feels the tension in his shoulders draining away.
He doesn’t scream, but he’s started breathing again, deep, ragged intakes of air every time Shane brings that thing down on his back. If Spencer could be there for it, he’d probably admire Shane’s handiwork, the way he expertly layers the stripes all over Spencer’s back, never too close to his neck or kidneys, never loosing the slow, determined rhythm.
As is, Spencer bawls. Useless tears start soaking into the pillow, taking the pressure with them. Washing away the feeling that he’s failing Ryan.
When Shane stops, Spencer keeps crying. Shane removes the restraints and covers Spencer with a blanket and Spencer keeps crying. Shane sits down on the edge of the bed and cards his hand through Spencer’s hair and Spencer? Keeps crying.
Tears are streaming down his face when he sits up, but he looks straight at Shane.
“Can you go get Ryan?”
His voice is low and hoarse and it’s a miracle that Shane can even make out the words. He sounds like he’s chewed his way through a bowl of gravel and shards of glass.
Shane looks on the verge of arguing, then he nods.
Spencer’s face is mostly dry when Ryan comes in, but there’s no way he’s gonna be able to hide his emotions. He feels raw, torn open, his feelings too close to the surface, flickering across his face unguarded and uncensored.
“Fuck me.”
It’s an order in a broken mirror whisper, but it’s an order nonetheless. It’s Ryan’s choice to comply. If Ryan walks away now, Spencer’s gonna take a breath, die inside, replace the bricks and move on with his life.
Ryan fumbles with his jeans and underwear, steps out of them and gets in between Spencer’s legs. He doesn’t ask questions, just grabs the lube from the nightstand and slicks up his fingers. Spencer lifts his hips a little and spreads his legs wider.
“Make it two.”
Ryan pushes into him slowly and Spencer definitely feels the stretch. He doesn’t care right now.
“More”, he grits out and he’ll be damned if he didn’t see Ryan raise his eyebrow, his facial expression right on the way to one of those fucking superior smirks.
“Shut the fuck up, Ross”, he growls and Ryan bites down on his lower lip, pushing in a third finger and blushing at the same time. Maybe that shouldn’t be as hot as it is.
“Your cock.”
Spencer knows there’s no way he’s ready just yet, but he takes it. In a way, the pain makes it easier to keep control, to tell Ryan to stop and go slow and speed up his thrusts. Ryan does exactly as Spencer asks. He doesn’t close his eyes like he usually would, he never once stops staring into Spencer, who is staring right back.
“More.”
Ryan’s getting close, his breathing just this side of ragged.
“Keep going.”
“Spence...”
“Shut the fuck up. Keep going.”
Ryan does. He finishes when Spencer nods at him and they ride it out together, Ryan collapsing on top of him when he’s done.
“Promise me something?” Spencer asks after a while and Ryan finds his eyes again.
“Anything, Spence.”
“If... I won’t always be there. I need to know you’re gonna take care of yourself.”
Ryan grins. He’s got his cock inside Spencer’s ass and he fucking grins.
“How long have you known me, Spin?”
It’s a name from way back and it brings back memories from a time before all of this when Spencer had to keep telling Ryan to tie his fucking shoelaces so he wouldn’t trip over them, when Spencer called Ryan twice a day to remind him to eat and sent him back into his house for a coat in the morning before school when Ryan had wandered outside in a t-shirt in December.
Spencer finds himself grinning back.
“Yeah okay, no way.”
Author:raven29121982
Title: Speed Trials
Rating: NC - 17
Pairing: Shane/Spencer, Spencer/Ryan
Warnings: as per usual. D/s themes, whipping, language
Whatever the net says, and seriously, FUCK the net, it’s not actually Ryan breaking them up. It’s not Brendon kicking Ryan out or Jon walking away or any of those things. It’s, quite plainly, the music’s fault and it really is that simple. That’s also why it’s so hard to take, cause Spencer hadn’t seen this coming, hasn’t anticipated a moment when the word band and Ryan’s name weren’t all but synonymous.
When Spencer realizes he’s for once not on the same side of the fence as Ryan, the situation crashes down on Spencer like it’s the end of the fucking world and he can’t even lie to himself about it. He wants Brendon as a vocalist and finally tells Ryan just that, after a lot of awkward shrugs and silences. Ryan nods and walks away to find Jon. Spencer just sits there and stares at the drum kit and the abandoned guitar and he’s freaking out. He’s not shouting and punching walls, he’s not that kind of guy, but he can’t move. He can’t breathe, he can’t even cry.
Brendon pokes his head in the door and turns away without a word and Shane comes in three heartbeats later, sitting down on the floor a little bit further away then he usually would. He doesn’t say anything, doesn’t give Spencer a chance to tell him to fuck off and mind his own business, he just waits.
It’s the Valdez-stealth-way that always, always works. Eventually, after a year of silence and three million pictures shattering in Spencer’s brain, Spencer’s eyes find Shane’s. Spencer doesn’t want to think about the look on Shane’s face, doesn’t want to know. It’s tender and a little scared and so goddamn fucking understanding Spencer drowns in it.
“Shane, I… I need,” Spencer chokes out and he can’t say anything else, he can’t explain. He remembers how Brendon and Ryan have been recently, how they’ve desperately tried getting under each other’s skin just to hold on to something they’ve felt slipping away with every song they didn’t write. How they’ve been hurting each other just to feel. Spencer needs. Everything, anything at all. Just something to reassure him he’s still on the planet, cause it sure as hell doesn’t feel like it.
Shane gets up and holds out his hand.
“Come on. Bedroom.” Spencer stumbles after him not looking back at the abandoned practise space. He gets his clothes off when Shane tells him to and lies down. He can’t even remember how to fight right now.
“Spence, I’m gonna tie you up, okay? Just… tell me if anything’s up. You can safe-word if you want to, but I’ll stop if you just say, okay?”
Spencer makes himself nod cause he knows Shane will go no further if he doesn’t, but his head’s too full and too empty at the same time and he isn’t even really listening. He doesn’t really remember fear right now, everything’s a distant echo of emotions he only vaguely recalls. Shane sighs and leans in to kiss the back of his neck.
“Fuck, Spence. I love you.”
Yeah. That. Spencer doesn’t reply, cause for all his faults, he isn’t a liar. Right now, he doesn’t even know the meaning of that word. He feels the soft leather of the restraints on his wrists and ankles, not the ones Jon gave Shane and him a lifetime ago, but older, more worn ones that aren’t as padded and close with a simple Velcro ribbon instead of metal buckles. Spencer’s brain only briefly computes “soft” before switching off again, toppling over thoughts and random sentences like he’s not even in control of any of them anymore.
The first lash across his back takes him completely by surprise, a dull thud he can’t quite place. It doesn’t hurt as such, it’s just a heavy blow to his shoulder blades without any real sting to it and he gasps, burying his head in the cushions. It’s definitely not a belt, he knows that much. Some sort of flogger, probably, something intended to bruise rather then break. Shane puts a good bit of force behind it, but he’s not aiming to hurt. It feels like he’s knocking bricks off Spencer’s walls and he’s doing a damn good job, too. By ten or maybe fifteen strokes, Spencer’s already lost count and he feels the tension in his shoulders draining away.
He doesn’t scream, but he’s started breathing again, deep, ragged intakes of air every time Shane brings that thing down on his back. If Spencer could be there for it, he’d probably admire Shane’s handiwork, the way he expertly layers the stripes all over Spencer’s back, never too close to his neck or kidneys, never loosing the slow, determined rhythm.
As is, Spencer bawls. Useless tears start soaking into the pillow, taking the pressure with them. Washing away the feeling that he’s failing Ryan.
When Shane stops, Spencer keeps crying. Shane removes the restraints and covers Spencer with a blanket and Spencer keeps crying. Shane sits down on the edge of the bed and cards his hand through Spencer’s hair and Spencer? Keeps crying.
Tears are streaming down his face when he sits up, but he looks straight at Shane.
“Can you go get Ryan?”
His voice is low and hoarse and it’s a miracle that Shane can even make out the words. He sounds like he’s chewed his way through a bowl of gravel and shards of glass.
Shane looks on the verge of arguing, then he nods.
Spencer’s face is mostly dry when Ryan comes in, but there’s no way he’s gonna be able to hide his emotions. He feels raw, torn open, his feelings too close to the surface, flickering across his face unguarded and uncensored.
“Fuck me.”
It’s an order in a broken mirror whisper, but it’s an order nonetheless. It’s Ryan’s choice to comply. If Ryan walks away now, Spencer’s gonna take a breath, die inside, replace the bricks and move on with his life.
Ryan fumbles with his jeans and underwear, steps out of them and gets in between Spencer’s legs. He doesn’t ask questions, just grabs the lube from the nightstand and slicks up his fingers. Spencer lifts his hips a little and spreads his legs wider.
“Make it two.”
Ryan pushes into him slowly and Spencer definitely feels the stretch. He doesn’t care right now.
“More”, he grits out and he’ll be damned if he didn’t see Ryan raise his eyebrow, his facial expression right on the way to one of those fucking superior smirks.
“Shut the fuck up, Ross”, he growls and Ryan bites down on his lower lip, pushing in a third finger and blushing at the same time. Maybe that shouldn’t be as hot as it is.
“Your cock.”
Spencer knows there’s no way he’s ready just yet, but he takes it. In a way, the pain makes it easier to keep control, to tell Ryan to stop and go slow and speed up his thrusts. Ryan does exactly as Spencer asks. He doesn’t close his eyes like he usually would, he never once stops staring into Spencer, who is staring right back.
“More.”
Ryan’s getting close, his breathing just this side of ragged.
“Keep going.”
“Spence...”
“Shut the fuck up. Keep going.”
Ryan does. He finishes when Spencer nods at him and they ride it out together, Ryan collapsing on top of him when he’s done.
“Promise me something?” Spencer asks after a while and Ryan finds his eyes again.
“Anything, Spence.”
“If... I won’t always be there. I need to know you’re gonna take care of yourself.”
Ryan grins. He’s got his cock inside Spencer’s ass and he fucking grins.
“How long have you known me, Spin?”
It’s a name from way back and it brings back memories from a time before all of this when Spencer had to keep telling Ryan to tie his fucking shoelaces so he wouldn’t trip over them, when Spencer called Ryan twice a day to remind him to eat and sent him back into his house for a coat in the morning before school when Ryan had wandered outside in a t-shirt in December.
Spencer finds himself grinning back.
“Yeah okay, no way.”