Love Is Spelt Like Your Fist ~ Chapter Eleven
Title: Love Is Spelt Like Your Fist
Author: repulsive_x
Rating: I'm just gonna keep it at R for general sexual content, swearing, alcohol and maybe some drug use, abuse.
Pairing: Brendon Urie/Ryan Ross, Brendon Urie/Jon Walker
POV: Third
Summary: Brendon Urie is what some would call 'privileged'. He was born into money, and was graced with good looks. He has good friends, and an amazing boyfriend that most people only dream of. Then Ryan Ross came along, and made that all change.
Disclaimer: fake like bdens denial of being a flaming homosexual (and for once in a fic, i would also like it to stay this way)
Beta: Bec, bilvy_lover
Author's Notes: This is a fic about an abusive relationship, so if you're sensitive to that kind of thing, DO NOT READ!
Previous Chapters
C H A P T E R ` E L E V E N
“Did you want a drink or something?” Ryan calls from the kitchen. “I have beer, water, milk, pretty much any kind of pop you can think of, um, some juice. Oh, and Jones Soda, any flavor.”
At first, Brendon considers the beer, but then he remembers what happened the last time, and quickly decides against it. “Jones sounds good, thanks. Any kind,” he yells back.
A few moments later, Ryan enters the room with a pink bottle of Jones Soda in one hand, and a beer in the other. Brendon can’t say that he’s surprised.
Ryan takes a seat next to Brendon on his black, leather couch and hands him his drink. “So,” he says, stretching his arm along the back of the couch and rests his legs on top of his glass coffee table, “what brings you here on this fine Friday night?”
Brendon shrugs, and takes a careful sip of the soda. “Nothing…” he lies. Ryan gives him a doubtful look, much like the one Jon gave him, and he sighs. “Fine, okay. Well, me and Jon get into a fight… again.”
“Oh,” he says. “You fight a lot?”
“Yeah,” Brendon admits, “lately, anyways. He’s always on my case… asking me if something’s wrong.”
“Is there?”
Brendon looks up at him, thinks for a moment then shrugs. “Not anymore…” He gives him a small smile, and lets out another sigh. “I don’t know. I just - I’m really sick of fighting with him all the time and I love him and everything still, but I feel as though it’s never going to be like it was…”
“Yeah, I understand,” Ryan says, and Brendon takes a moment to realize how awkward it is that he’s talking about his problems with Jon to Ryan of all people. “Did you tell him about… well, what happened?”
Brendon blushes, and stares down at his lap as he slowly shakes his head. “No. No, definitely not. But, um, my friend William was there that day you sent all those flowers, and I guess he ended up telling Jon about them.” He lets out a small laugh, and says, “I ended up telling him that the reason why I was mad at you was because you said shit about me to people at the casino… and that we don’t talk anymore, I’m not sure if he believed it or not.”
Ryan laughs, and Brendon can feel the heat of his arm that is stretched along the back of the couch behind him, radiate onto his shoulders. And shit, does Ryan ever smell nice. “Yeah… well -” he says, “I know how this is going to sound coming from me, but maybe it is time to just end things with him. It has been a long time, and you’re still young yet.” He stops, and then lowers his voice as he adds, breath on his ear, “you need to play the field.”
Brendon looks up at him, and Ryan looks back, face inches from his. Ryan doesn’t talk, he doesn’t move, he just sits there and looks back at him, eyes meeting his - and well, looking incredibly sexy while doing so.
Then Brendon just does it, he kisses him. And he’s right, he’s so right. He’s been with Jon since he started high school, and now he’s just a few months away from graduating. He’s been with him for almost four years of his life, four years he was supposed to be experimenting with different people, not just tied down to one.
It should be a little weird, kissing Ryan, considering everything they went through, but surprisingly, it isn’t at all.
Ryan cups his hand under Brendon’s jaw, and takes his bottom lip in between his. Brendon almost feels guilty for the way he feels while kissing Ryan - it’s not better or more intense then when he’s kissing Jon, but it’s certainly a whole lot different.
When Brendon and Jon first started dating, kissing was new and exciting, electrifying almost. They could spend hours just lying there, kissing, but after the years, the excitement died down, and now when they kiss its comfort, and safety, it’s love.
With Ryan he wants to dance and scream, he wants to kiss him until his lips fall off, he wants to kiss every single part of his body, run his lips, his tongue along every inch of his skin.
Brendon falls down onto his back, and pulls Ryan down with him. A memory of that night that Brendon now knows isn’t true, slowly tries to pry itself into his brain, but he quickly pushes it out and far away.
Ryan hoists himself above Brendon on his elbow, and dips his head down, pressing his lips to his neck. “Is this okay?” he murmurs.
“Yeah,” Brendon breathes, slipping his hands up the back of Ryan’s shirt, and running his fingers along his smooth skin. “It’s good.”
“Yeah?” he asks, and kisses his way back up to his lips.
“Yeah,” Brendon moans before Ryan slips his tongue into his mouth.
Brendon can already feel himself growing hard and he assumes from the hard thing pressed against his thigh, that Ryan is too.
Ryan’s hands wander from his chest, to his belly, past his crotch, and down to his thigh. He keeps it there, fingers drawing patterns on the material of his jeans before he moves them back up to his belt buckle. He pulls away, long enough to look him in the eye, silently asking for permission.
Brendon nods, long, heavy breaths pouring from his lips. He gives it two seconds before he’s snaking his hand back around Ryan’s neck, and pulling his lips back to his.
Ryan kisses him back for a minute or so, but his hand still remains at his closed belt buckle. “Are you sure?” he finally asks. “You’re not saying no? Stop? Anything?”
Brendon laughs, and shakes his head. “No.”
“So, you’re consenting to this?”
“Yes,” Brendon smiles, running his hand up the front of Ryan’s shirt.
“So, tomorrow morning you’re not gonna turn around and say that I -”
“No.”
Ryan smiles, and then leans forward, connecting their lips back together as he hand starts on his belt. “Good,” he mumbles between kisses. “Cause, I don’t know how if I’d be able to handle you not talking to me again.”
Ryan’s fingers begin on his gold, belt buckle as Brendon smiles into his mouth, and murmurs, “I don’t think I could either.”
- x -
The next morning Brendon wakes up in a large bed that certainly isn’t his, wrapped up in smooth, Egyptian cotton sheets that are also, not his. He’s not sore, he doesn’t have the sudden urge to jump up and puke and he also remembers the previous night perfectly.
Ryan’s not at his side either, but he’s not so worried as he slips his eyes back shut, and presses his head back into the big, comfy pillow, a content smile spreading across his lips. He can smell Ryan everywhere, the sheets, the pillow, himself, and Brendon just wants to steal all his blankets and sheets, and keep them for himself.
A few minutes later when Brendon’s just drifting back to sleep, Ryan comes into the room, a tray of steaming hot food in his hands.
Brendon just grins, he grins so hard it almost hurts. “As if,” he says, and he can’t say he’s ever gotten breakfast in bed, not even from Jon.
Ryan smiles back with a quick wiggle of his eyebrows. “Okay, sit up,” he orders once he approaches the side of his bed, and Brendon does as he’s told, quickly scrambling up and pressing his back to the oak headboard. Ryan slides the tray onto his lap, and then scoots in next to him, pulling the sheets up to his bare belly.
Brendon turns to face him, still smiling, and Ryan leans in and presses a chaste kiss to his lips. “G’morning, sunshine,” he murmurs with a soft smile.
Brendon giggles as Ryan grazes his nose against Brendon’s then leans in for one more kiss, “morning.”
“Okay, now eat!” Ryan demands, as he pulls away completely, and motions towards the huge tray of food. “I spent a lot of time on it.”
Brendon laughs, eyes skimming over the pancakes, toast, bacon, sausage, eggs and fruit salad. “I can tell.” He picks up his fork, and then looks over at Ryan with an eyebrow raised. “You are going to help me eat this, aren’t you?”
He shrugs, and smiles, “if you want me to.”
“I definitely do,” he replies.
They only get halfway through the meal, before Ryan’s tongue is back into his mouth, tasting like syrup and fruit. As Ryan runs his hands up his belly, and to his chest, he can’t believe he ever thought someone like Ryan would rape him.
“Here,” Brendon breathes, pulling away from Ryan’s lips. “Here, you should move this.”
Ryan obeys, and takes the half empty tray off Ryan’s lap, and places it onto the floor next to them. “There,” he says, and presses himself onto Brendon, hoisting himself up by his elbow. Brendon is very aware, as Ryan’s naked chest slides against his that they’re both in nothing but their boxers - but it’s not like he’s really complaining or anything.
“I can’t even tell you how happy I am that -” Ryan starts, kissing along his jaw, until he’s interrupted by the loud ring tone emitting from Brendon’s phone on the bedside table.
They both lie there for a moment, both completely still as his phone plays out the words to ‘Hit Me, Baby, One More Time’. Ryan picks himself up off of Brendon, crawls over to the other side of the bed where his sidekick sits, picks it up, reads off the caller ID. “It’s Jon.”
Brendon’s heart speeds up. “Don’t answer it! I swear to God if you -”
Ryan laughs, and says, “God, Brendon, who do you think I am?” He presses a button, and the ringing immediately comes to a stop. He places it back onto the night table, and crawls over to Brendon. “Why would I want to talk to him when I’m here, in my bed, making out with you?” he asks, lips hovering over Brendon’s.
Brendon giggles, closes his eyes and lets Ryan kiss him. He doesn’t want to think about Jon, or about what he’s doing right now, that when he goes home - whenever that’ll be - he’ll be in so, so much shit.
Ryan’s tongue is running back along Brendon’s, and his fingers are grazing along his chest, past his nipples, burning him, and Brendon mewls into his mouth, subconsciously arching into him. And god, he is so fucking hard already.
Ryan smiles to himself, and presses his hips back into Brendon's, and yeah, he definitely is too.
Brendon’s not even thinking; not even the slightest bit when he says, voice hoarse, “Ry - Ry.”
Ryan nibbles at his ear, and then kisses down his jaw to his neck, swiping his tongue along his skin. “Hmm?” he murmurs, voice vibrating against his skin.
“Can you - can you fuck me?” he asks, and oh god, he is definitely going to hell now. “Please? Please can you just - please.”
Ryan pulls away, and looks at him, straight in the eyes, and Brendon’s sure his heart is going to come slamming out of his chest at any moment now. After a moment of Ryan sweeping his eyes over Brendon’s face, he smiles, and says, “I don’t think you need to ask twice.”
Brendon smiles as Ryan kisses him again, and hooks his fingers into his boxers, slowly pulling them down his hips. Brendon knows he shouldn’t be doing this, because he is still with Jon, because if Jon ever found out, it would kill him, completely and absolutely break him. But his brain is currently a big pile of goo and not really thinking all that straight, and he’s so hard and he wants this so bad that he doesn’t think there’s anyway he’ll be able to stop himself. Plus, the way he sees it, they’ve already done it before, so would doing it again really make that much of a difference?
Brendon kicks his boxers off the rest of the way as Ryan starts on his. Ryan’s land in a pile with Brendon’s at the end of the bed, mixing in with the covers, and when he presses back down against Brendon, cock sliding against his, he stops breathing for a second.
“Oh god,” Brendon moans, bucking his hips up against Ryan.
Ryan nibbles at his jaw, and smiles, pleased. “You sure you want this, Bren?” he asks.
“Yes, positive,” he says, sliding his hands down Ryan’s chest, swiping his thumbs along his protruding hipbones.
Ryan pecks one more kiss to his lips, before he’s picking himself back up, and crawling over to the nightstand once more. However, this time he’s naked, and Brendon finds a lot of enjoyment as Ryan bends over, naked ass sticking out in the air, in search of condoms and lube.
Brendon somehow manages to get a little bit harder.
“Hey,” Brendon says, and Ryan turns to face him, eyebrow cocked. “Um,” he starts; face red as he slides the thick, gold ring engraved with Jon’s name off his finger, and hands it hesitantly over to Ryan. “Here,” he says, voice dripping with guilt. “I just - yeah.”
Ryan studies it, moving it around in the palm of his hands before he turns back around and places it on the nightstand. Brendon can’t see his face, but he knows he’s smiling, and something inside his stomach twists, and for a second, he think he might puke.
Ryan crawls back over to Brendon, and settles himself in between his legs, lube and condom in hand, and hooks one leg onto his hip. While Ryan’s applying lube to his long, slender fingers, Brendon almost comes right there at the thought - because well, with him and Jon fighting so much lately, they’ve barely had anytime to have sex - and Brendon needs sex - and well, okay, Ryan’s fingers are fucking sexy.
“I’m going to make this so good for you, Bren,” Ryan promises, voice quiet and horse as he slowly presses a single finger into his entrance.
Brendon’s breathing is hard and labored as he squeezes at Ryan’s strong shoulders, his knees hitting Ryan’s chest as he leans forward and kisses him. I’m doing this, he thinks. I’m actually doing this. I’m cheating on Jon and I know it. I’m cheating on Jon and I’m completely, one hundred percent sober.
Ryan adds a second finger, knuckle deep, and twists them around inside, stretching him. Brendon’s head drops down against the pillow, his eyes rolling back as Ryan curls his fingers, and they brush against his prostate, shooting sparks all the way up his body to his brain. “Unf, yeah,” he breathes, pushing back into Ryan’s fingers, and he decides right then that Ryan‘s fingers are his new favorite thing, “yeah.”
Ryan leans down; knees knocking back against his chest, and kisses him long, and sloppy. “Shit, Bren, you are so - you have no idea how fucking sexy you are right now.”
Brendon mostly does know how sexy he is right now - when he’s turned on - because he’s heard it many, many times from Jon.
“Yeah, yeah,” he moans. “Come on. That’s good.”
Ryan nods, does one more twist and curl of his fingers, then removes his fingers completely. “I could do that to you all day,” he murmurs into Brendon’s lips, huskily. “I could make you come just from my fingers.”
Brendon moans, arching up into him, and he really doesn’t doubt it.
Ryan sits up, grabs onto the condom packet sitting next to him, and tears it open with his teeth, which only makes Brendon loose it all the more. Brendon watches quite intently as Ryan rolls it onto his very hard dick, and then covers himself with lube, lip tucked in between his teeth. He notes Ryan’s a bit smaller than Jon, lengthwise, but definitely a lot thicker - he doubts its anything he can’t handle though.
He tosses the lube somewhere behind him, then brings Brendon’s thighs back up to his waist, and leans down, lining himself up at his entrance. “You’re going to love this,” he promises once again, then pushes in all at once.
Brendon grunts, head knocking against the headboard. Ryan grips onto his hips, pulling out just enough so his tip is still inside, before he’s sliding back in with ease. It’s uncomfortable the first couple of thrusts - not painful, just uncomfortable - but by the third thrust, Brendon’s pushing back into him, mewling. He digs his fingernails into Ryan’s sweaty chest, and says, through hard gasps of air, “Ry - Ry, you can - harder. Please. I can - I can handle it.”
Ryan doesn’t need to be told twice, as he thrusts back into him, more forcefully, like he was asked, and the top of Brendon’s head knocks back against the headboard. Ryan brushes against his prostate, and he can’t breathe for a second. He arches into Ryan, and presses back into his cock, “oh yeah, so close.”
Ryan smirks as he pulls back, and says, “You’re very vocal, you know that?”
Brendon nods, and he sees stars as Ryan thrusts back into him, hard and deep, and his voice hitches as he gasps a quick ‘yeah.’
Ryan’s fingers press at his hipbones, as he slowly and carefully begins to rock his hips back in forth, still deep inside of him, pressing against his prostate. “You feel so fucking amazing,” Ryan groans, and laps across his Adam’s apple with his tongue. “This is good, right?”
Brendon laughs, a little breathless, and then nods, “yeah, yeah. This is - this is good.” He pushes back into him, as Ryan slams in rough and hard, and Brendon almost can’t take it anymore - he hasn’t even been touched and he thinks that he might come.
Ryan continues to rock in and out, in and out, a steady rhythm set, and hits his prostate dead-on every single time. Brendon’s a writhing, moaning mess under Ryan as he slides his hands down his chest, and grips onto his leaking member, running his thumb over his tip.
And Ryan is amazing, he was wrong when he said it would be good, because it is so, so much better than that. From the blowjob he gave him last night, to this now, he almost can’t believe this is real. Hands down, Ryan is like, the god of sex.
Brendon can barely move anymore as Ryan continues to rock back into him, fast and hard, and his fist squeezes around his achingly hard cock, stroking him fast, then slow, fast then slow, and Brendon cant feel his toes, and there’s ringing in his ears, so loud that he can barely hear his own thoughts. For once, during sex, Brendon thinks he’s been rendered speechless.
He comes in a fury, shooting all over Ryan’s hand and their stomachs, coating them in thick layers. He clenches hard around Ryan as he comes, which in turn makes Ryan moan out loud as he pounds harder in faster into Brendon, and Brendon can’t see.
Ryan’s wet mouth is pressed against Brendon’s collarbone when he comes, and he can feel his moans and curses vibrate off his burning skin. He grips hard at Brendon’s hips, pressing his fingernails into his bone, creating well welcomed bruises.
“Jesus fuck,” Ryan gasps, and Brendon’s still a little speechless as his vision slowly comes back.
After a moment, Ryan pulls out, slides the condom off of him, and ties it up before tossing it carelessly onto the ground. He falls down on top of Brendon, and presses a sloppy kiss to his overly panting lips. “I told you it’d be good.” He grins cheekily.
Brendon laughs, and kisses him back.
A/N: so, im sorry this chapter took so long and that it pretty much sucks on top of it , BUT to my defense I’m really sick - pretty sure with mono too - it took a lot of effort to go through this. I'll try my very hardest to post as frequently as I can, but i cant promise.. im just hoping i have a very bad cold and this will go ASAP.
Author: repulsive_x
Rating: I'm just gonna keep it at R for general sexual content, swearing, alcohol and maybe some drug use, abuse.
Pairing: Brendon Urie/Ryan Ross, Brendon Urie/Jon Walker
POV: Third
Summary: Brendon Urie is what some would call 'privileged'. He was born into money, and was graced with good looks. He has good friends, and an amazing boyfriend that most people only dream of. Then Ryan Ross came along, and made that all change.
Disclaimer: fake like bdens denial of being a flaming homosexual (and for once in a fic, i would also like it to stay this way)
Beta: Bec, bilvy_lover
Author's Notes: This is a fic about an abusive relationship, so if you're sensitive to that kind of thing, DO NOT READ!
Previous Chapters
C H A P T E R ` E L E V E N
“Did you want a drink or something?” Ryan calls from the kitchen. “I have beer, water, milk, pretty much any kind of pop you can think of, um, some juice. Oh, and Jones Soda, any flavor.”
At first, Brendon considers the beer, but then he remembers what happened the last time, and quickly decides against it. “Jones sounds good, thanks. Any kind,” he yells back.
A few moments later, Ryan enters the room with a pink bottle of Jones Soda in one hand, and a beer in the other. Brendon can’t say that he’s surprised.
Ryan takes a seat next to Brendon on his black, leather couch and hands him his drink. “So,” he says, stretching his arm along the back of the couch and rests his legs on top of his glass coffee table, “what brings you here on this fine Friday night?”
Brendon shrugs, and takes a careful sip of the soda. “Nothing…” he lies. Ryan gives him a doubtful look, much like the one Jon gave him, and he sighs. “Fine, okay. Well, me and Jon get into a fight… again.”
“Oh,” he says. “You fight a lot?”
“Yeah,” Brendon admits, “lately, anyways. He’s always on my case… asking me if something’s wrong.”
“Is there?”
Brendon looks up at him, thinks for a moment then shrugs. “Not anymore…” He gives him a small smile, and lets out another sigh. “I don’t know. I just - I’m really sick of fighting with him all the time and I love him and everything still, but I feel as though it’s never going to be like it was…”
“Yeah, I understand,” Ryan says, and Brendon takes a moment to realize how awkward it is that he’s talking about his problems with Jon to Ryan of all people. “Did you tell him about… well, what happened?”
Brendon blushes, and stares down at his lap as he slowly shakes his head. “No. No, definitely not. But, um, my friend William was there that day you sent all those flowers, and I guess he ended up telling Jon about them.” He lets out a small laugh, and says, “I ended up telling him that the reason why I was mad at you was because you said shit about me to people at the casino… and that we don’t talk anymore, I’m not sure if he believed it or not.”
Ryan laughs, and Brendon can feel the heat of his arm that is stretched along the back of the couch behind him, radiate onto his shoulders. And shit, does Ryan ever smell nice. “Yeah… well -” he says, “I know how this is going to sound coming from me, but maybe it is time to just end things with him. It has been a long time, and you’re still young yet.” He stops, and then lowers his voice as he adds, breath on his ear, “you need to play the field.”
Brendon looks up at him, and Ryan looks back, face inches from his. Ryan doesn’t talk, he doesn’t move, he just sits there and looks back at him, eyes meeting his - and well, looking incredibly sexy while doing so.
Then Brendon just does it, he kisses him. And he’s right, he’s so right. He’s been with Jon since he started high school, and now he’s just a few months away from graduating. He’s been with him for almost four years of his life, four years he was supposed to be experimenting with different people, not just tied down to one.
It should be a little weird, kissing Ryan, considering everything they went through, but surprisingly, it isn’t at all.
Ryan cups his hand under Brendon’s jaw, and takes his bottom lip in between his. Brendon almost feels guilty for the way he feels while kissing Ryan - it’s not better or more intense then when he’s kissing Jon, but it’s certainly a whole lot different.
When Brendon and Jon first started dating, kissing was new and exciting, electrifying almost. They could spend hours just lying there, kissing, but after the years, the excitement died down, and now when they kiss its comfort, and safety, it’s love.
With Ryan he wants to dance and scream, he wants to kiss him until his lips fall off, he wants to kiss every single part of his body, run his lips, his tongue along every inch of his skin.
Brendon falls down onto his back, and pulls Ryan down with him. A memory of that night that Brendon now knows isn’t true, slowly tries to pry itself into his brain, but he quickly pushes it out and far away.
Ryan hoists himself above Brendon on his elbow, and dips his head down, pressing his lips to his neck. “Is this okay?” he murmurs.
“Yeah,” Brendon breathes, slipping his hands up the back of Ryan’s shirt, and running his fingers along his smooth skin. “It’s good.”
“Yeah?” he asks, and kisses his way back up to his lips.
“Yeah,” Brendon moans before Ryan slips his tongue into his mouth.
Brendon can already feel himself growing hard and he assumes from the hard thing pressed against his thigh, that Ryan is too.
Ryan’s hands wander from his chest, to his belly, past his crotch, and down to his thigh. He keeps it there, fingers drawing patterns on the material of his jeans before he moves them back up to his belt buckle. He pulls away, long enough to look him in the eye, silently asking for permission.
Brendon nods, long, heavy breaths pouring from his lips. He gives it two seconds before he’s snaking his hand back around Ryan’s neck, and pulling his lips back to his.
Ryan kisses him back for a minute or so, but his hand still remains at his closed belt buckle. “Are you sure?” he finally asks. “You’re not saying no? Stop? Anything?”
Brendon laughs, and shakes his head. “No.”
“So, you’re consenting to this?”
“Yes,” Brendon smiles, running his hand up the front of Ryan’s shirt.
“So, tomorrow morning you’re not gonna turn around and say that I -”
“No.”
Ryan smiles, and then leans forward, connecting their lips back together as he hand starts on his belt. “Good,” he mumbles between kisses. “Cause, I don’t know how if I’d be able to handle you not talking to me again.”
Ryan’s fingers begin on his gold, belt buckle as Brendon smiles into his mouth, and murmurs, “I don’t think I could either.”
- x -
The next morning Brendon wakes up in a large bed that certainly isn’t his, wrapped up in smooth, Egyptian cotton sheets that are also, not his. He’s not sore, he doesn’t have the sudden urge to jump up and puke and he also remembers the previous night perfectly.
Ryan’s not at his side either, but he’s not so worried as he slips his eyes back shut, and presses his head back into the big, comfy pillow, a content smile spreading across his lips. He can smell Ryan everywhere, the sheets, the pillow, himself, and Brendon just wants to steal all his blankets and sheets, and keep them for himself.
A few minutes later when Brendon’s just drifting back to sleep, Ryan comes into the room, a tray of steaming hot food in his hands.
Brendon just grins, he grins so hard it almost hurts. “As if,” he says, and he can’t say he’s ever gotten breakfast in bed, not even from Jon.
Ryan smiles back with a quick wiggle of his eyebrows. “Okay, sit up,” he orders once he approaches the side of his bed, and Brendon does as he’s told, quickly scrambling up and pressing his back to the oak headboard. Ryan slides the tray onto his lap, and then scoots in next to him, pulling the sheets up to his bare belly.
Brendon turns to face him, still smiling, and Ryan leans in and presses a chaste kiss to his lips. “G’morning, sunshine,” he murmurs with a soft smile.
Brendon giggles as Ryan grazes his nose against Brendon’s then leans in for one more kiss, “morning.”
“Okay, now eat!” Ryan demands, as he pulls away completely, and motions towards the huge tray of food. “I spent a lot of time on it.”
Brendon laughs, eyes skimming over the pancakes, toast, bacon, sausage, eggs and fruit salad. “I can tell.” He picks up his fork, and then looks over at Ryan with an eyebrow raised. “You are going to help me eat this, aren’t you?”
He shrugs, and smiles, “if you want me to.”
“I definitely do,” he replies.
They only get halfway through the meal, before Ryan’s tongue is back into his mouth, tasting like syrup and fruit. As Ryan runs his hands up his belly, and to his chest, he can’t believe he ever thought someone like Ryan would rape him.
“Here,” Brendon breathes, pulling away from Ryan’s lips. “Here, you should move this.”
Ryan obeys, and takes the half empty tray off Ryan’s lap, and places it onto the floor next to them. “There,” he says, and presses himself onto Brendon, hoisting himself up by his elbow. Brendon is very aware, as Ryan’s naked chest slides against his that they’re both in nothing but their boxers - but it’s not like he’s really complaining or anything.
“I can’t even tell you how happy I am that -” Ryan starts, kissing along his jaw, until he’s interrupted by the loud ring tone emitting from Brendon’s phone on the bedside table.
They both lie there for a moment, both completely still as his phone plays out the words to ‘Hit Me, Baby, One More Time’. Ryan picks himself up off of Brendon, crawls over to the other side of the bed where his sidekick sits, picks it up, reads off the caller ID. “It’s Jon.”
Brendon’s heart speeds up. “Don’t answer it! I swear to God if you -”
Ryan laughs, and says, “God, Brendon, who do you think I am?” He presses a button, and the ringing immediately comes to a stop. He places it back onto the night table, and crawls over to Brendon. “Why would I want to talk to him when I’m here, in my bed, making out with you?” he asks, lips hovering over Brendon’s.
Brendon giggles, closes his eyes and lets Ryan kiss him. He doesn’t want to think about Jon, or about what he’s doing right now, that when he goes home - whenever that’ll be - he’ll be in so, so much shit.
Ryan’s tongue is running back along Brendon’s, and his fingers are grazing along his chest, past his nipples, burning him, and Brendon mewls into his mouth, subconsciously arching into him. And god, he is so fucking hard already.
Ryan smiles to himself, and presses his hips back into Brendon's, and yeah, he definitely is too.
Brendon’s not even thinking; not even the slightest bit when he says, voice hoarse, “Ry - Ry.”
Ryan nibbles at his ear, and then kisses down his jaw to his neck, swiping his tongue along his skin. “Hmm?” he murmurs, voice vibrating against his skin.
“Can you - can you fuck me?” he asks, and oh god, he is definitely going to hell now. “Please? Please can you just - please.”
Ryan pulls away, and looks at him, straight in the eyes, and Brendon’s sure his heart is going to come slamming out of his chest at any moment now. After a moment of Ryan sweeping his eyes over Brendon’s face, he smiles, and says, “I don’t think you need to ask twice.”
Brendon smiles as Ryan kisses him again, and hooks his fingers into his boxers, slowly pulling them down his hips. Brendon knows he shouldn’t be doing this, because he is still with Jon, because if Jon ever found out, it would kill him, completely and absolutely break him. But his brain is currently a big pile of goo and not really thinking all that straight, and he’s so hard and he wants this so bad that he doesn’t think there’s anyway he’ll be able to stop himself. Plus, the way he sees it, they’ve already done it before, so would doing it again really make that much of a difference?
Brendon kicks his boxers off the rest of the way as Ryan starts on his. Ryan’s land in a pile with Brendon’s at the end of the bed, mixing in with the covers, and when he presses back down against Brendon, cock sliding against his, he stops breathing for a second.
“Oh god,” Brendon moans, bucking his hips up against Ryan.
Ryan nibbles at his jaw, and smiles, pleased. “You sure you want this, Bren?” he asks.
“Yes, positive,” he says, sliding his hands down Ryan’s chest, swiping his thumbs along his protruding hipbones.
Ryan pecks one more kiss to his lips, before he’s picking himself back up, and crawling over to the nightstand once more. However, this time he’s naked, and Brendon finds a lot of enjoyment as Ryan bends over, naked ass sticking out in the air, in search of condoms and lube.
Brendon somehow manages to get a little bit harder.
“Hey,” Brendon says, and Ryan turns to face him, eyebrow cocked. “Um,” he starts; face red as he slides the thick, gold ring engraved with Jon’s name off his finger, and hands it hesitantly over to Ryan. “Here,” he says, voice dripping with guilt. “I just - yeah.”
Ryan studies it, moving it around in the palm of his hands before he turns back around and places it on the nightstand. Brendon can’t see his face, but he knows he’s smiling, and something inside his stomach twists, and for a second, he think he might puke.
Ryan crawls back over to Brendon, and settles himself in between his legs, lube and condom in hand, and hooks one leg onto his hip. While Ryan’s applying lube to his long, slender fingers, Brendon almost comes right there at the thought - because well, with him and Jon fighting so much lately, they’ve barely had anytime to have sex - and Brendon needs sex - and well, okay, Ryan’s fingers are fucking sexy.
“I’m going to make this so good for you, Bren,” Ryan promises, voice quiet and horse as he slowly presses a single finger into his entrance.
Brendon’s breathing is hard and labored as he squeezes at Ryan’s strong shoulders, his knees hitting Ryan’s chest as he leans forward and kisses him. I’m doing this, he thinks. I’m actually doing this. I’m cheating on Jon and I know it. I’m cheating on Jon and I’m completely, one hundred percent sober.
Ryan adds a second finger, knuckle deep, and twists them around inside, stretching him. Brendon’s head drops down against the pillow, his eyes rolling back as Ryan curls his fingers, and they brush against his prostate, shooting sparks all the way up his body to his brain. “Unf, yeah,” he breathes, pushing back into Ryan’s fingers, and he decides right then that Ryan‘s fingers are his new favorite thing, “yeah.”
Ryan leans down; knees knocking back against his chest, and kisses him long, and sloppy. “Shit, Bren, you are so - you have no idea how fucking sexy you are right now.”
Brendon mostly does know how sexy he is right now - when he’s turned on - because he’s heard it many, many times from Jon.
“Yeah, yeah,” he moans. “Come on. That’s good.”
Ryan nods, does one more twist and curl of his fingers, then removes his fingers completely. “I could do that to you all day,” he murmurs into Brendon’s lips, huskily. “I could make you come just from my fingers.”
Brendon moans, arching up into him, and he really doesn’t doubt it.
Ryan sits up, grabs onto the condom packet sitting next to him, and tears it open with his teeth, which only makes Brendon loose it all the more. Brendon watches quite intently as Ryan rolls it onto his very hard dick, and then covers himself with lube, lip tucked in between his teeth. He notes Ryan’s a bit smaller than Jon, lengthwise, but definitely a lot thicker - he doubts its anything he can’t handle though.
He tosses the lube somewhere behind him, then brings Brendon’s thighs back up to his waist, and leans down, lining himself up at his entrance. “You’re going to love this,” he promises once again, then pushes in all at once.
Brendon grunts, head knocking against the headboard. Ryan grips onto his hips, pulling out just enough so his tip is still inside, before he’s sliding back in with ease. It’s uncomfortable the first couple of thrusts - not painful, just uncomfortable - but by the third thrust, Brendon’s pushing back into him, mewling. He digs his fingernails into Ryan’s sweaty chest, and says, through hard gasps of air, “Ry - Ry, you can - harder. Please. I can - I can handle it.”
Ryan doesn’t need to be told twice, as he thrusts back into him, more forcefully, like he was asked, and the top of Brendon’s head knocks back against the headboard. Ryan brushes against his prostate, and he can’t breathe for a second. He arches into Ryan, and presses back into his cock, “oh yeah, so close.”
Ryan smirks as he pulls back, and says, “You’re very vocal, you know that?”
Brendon nods, and he sees stars as Ryan thrusts back into him, hard and deep, and his voice hitches as he gasps a quick ‘yeah.’
Ryan’s fingers press at his hipbones, as he slowly and carefully begins to rock his hips back in forth, still deep inside of him, pressing against his prostate. “You feel so fucking amazing,” Ryan groans, and laps across his Adam’s apple with his tongue. “This is good, right?”
Brendon laughs, a little breathless, and then nods, “yeah, yeah. This is - this is good.” He pushes back into him, as Ryan slams in rough and hard, and Brendon almost can’t take it anymore - he hasn’t even been touched and he thinks that he might come.
Ryan continues to rock in and out, in and out, a steady rhythm set, and hits his prostate dead-on every single time. Brendon’s a writhing, moaning mess under Ryan as he slides his hands down his chest, and grips onto his leaking member, running his thumb over his tip.
And Ryan is amazing, he was wrong when he said it would be good, because it is so, so much better than that. From the blowjob he gave him last night, to this now, he almost can’t believe this is real. Hands down, Ryan is like, the god of sex.
Brendon can barely move anymore as Ryan continues to rock back into him, fast and hard, and his fist squeezes around his achingly hard cock, stroking him fast, then slow, fast then slow, and Brendon cant feel his toes, and there’s ringing in his ears, so loud that he can barely hear his own thoughts. For once, during sex, Brendon thinks he’s been rendered speechless.
He comes in a fury, shooting all over Ryan’s hand and their stomachs, coating them in thick layers. He clenches hard around Ryan as he comes, which in turn makes Ryan moan out loud as he pounds harder in faster into Brendon, and Brendon can’t see.
Ryan’s wet mouth is pressed against Brendon’s collarbone when he comes, and he can feel his moans and curses vibrate off his burning skin. He grips hard at Brendon’s hips, pressing his fingernails into his bone, creating well welcomed bruises.
“Jesus fuck,” Ryan gasps, and Brendon’s still a little speechless as his vision slowly comes back.
After a moment, Ryan pulls out, slides the condom off of him, and ties it up before tossing it carelessly onto the ground. He falls down on top of Brendon, and presses a sloppy kiss to his overly panting lips. “I told you it’d be good.” He grins cheekily.
Brendon laughs, and kisses him back.
A/N: so, im sorry this chapter took so long and that it pretty much sucks on top of it , BUT to my defense I’m really sick - pretty sure with mono too - it took a lot of effort to go through this. I'll try my very hardest to post as frequently as I can, but i cant promise.. im just hoping i have a very bad cold and this will go ASAP.