(no subject)
My point here was to try and write a domestic abuse fic from the POV of the abuser. Warnings for ABUSE and DUB-CON.
The first time, he doesn't mean to do it.
Ryan just won't shut up, Brendon's head is pounding, aching, the sound of Ryan's voice grating on his fucking nerves and it's not like they have all the time in the world, they can't let Jon know and they can't let Spencer know (because why would Ryan tell his best friend when he's so fucking ashamed of who he is, of what he does with Brendon, so ashamed of *Brendon*), and all Brendon wants is Ryan's mouth on his cock to make this worth it, to make everything he feels worth it, and Ryan won't stop talking about the annoying girls in the parking lot, the kids at the show, how he's tired, how he wants some time off, and all Brendon hears is time away from all of them, from Brendon, and god-
"Would you just shut the fuck up and suck my dick?" Brendon asks.
Maybe half a second passes, then Ryan snarls, "Fuck you," and Brendon's palm is tingling, there's a white outline of a handprint forming on Ryan's cheek before Brendon's mind catches up with his body and he registers the echo of the slap. Ryan's eyes are wide and Brendon's cock is hard, aching; he's pushing Ryan down to his knees and opening his pants and rubbing the head of his cock against Ryan's lips, pushing into his mouth, stroking Ryan's smacked hot cheek as he thrusts in, and Ryan's gagging but taking it, opening for him, taking him in inch by inch. All Brendon hears is the wet sounds of Ryan sucking him, and his fingers curl into Ryan's hair, tilting his head back and fucking his mouth until he comes, going deep, holding Ryan in place and coming down his throat. Ryan chokes, pulling off, his eyes watering when he looks up at Brendon, and when Brendon looks further down he can see that Ryan is hard, straining against the front of his pants.
"Get yourself off," Brendon orders, and Ryan opens his pants, hands trembling as he fists his cock, and Brendon watches him, thrusting up into his curled fingers, and rubs his cock against Ryan's face as he does it, and after Ryan finishes, biting his lip, come striping his fist, Brendon says quietly, "Don't touch me with that." Ryan bows his head, licks his hand off, lets Brendon tug him up when he's finished and take him to bed.
Brendon doesn't touch him again that night, and when he wakes up Ryan is curled into him, tucked against his chest. He strokes Ryan's cheek, where his mark has already faded, and when Ryan stirs he nudges him over onto his stomach, licks two fingers and presses them against his ass, Ryan blinking sleepily at him, lips parting in surprise when Brendon thrusts one wet finger into him. Ryan shivers, squirms uncomfortably when Brendon wedges the other in alongside, but he doesn't tell Brendon to stop, so Brendon doesn't.
He doesn't protest when Brendon slaps his thighs apart, gets his ass up and pushes in, just whines a little, and Brendon wants to ask him if he's okay, he does, but what comes out is, "Shut up, I know you can take this." Ryan's breath hitches when Brendon stabs deep; Brendon can feel him trembling, and his skin is cold when Brendon runs his hand along Ryan's side, so Brendon bends him low, presses to his back as he fucks him, and Ryan chokes out a whimper, arching back into him, baring his throat for Brendon. Brendon sets his teeth to the pale stretch of skin, biting to mark.
"They'll see," Ryan whispers, and Brendon pulls almost all the way out before slamming back in, feeling Ryan convulse around his cock, so good he has to close his eyes just to regain his bearings.
Brendon slides his hands along Ryan's arms, down until he's gripping Ryan's thin wrists, sweetly for a bare second before he squeezes hard and says, "Let them."
"You're hurting me," Ryan says, even more quietly, and Brendon thinks of lying on the grass with Ryan, looking over at him, smiling, the first few giddy kisses they shared, the way Ryan slumps against him on the couch sometimes, leaning back into him with a sigh. He thinks of Ryan's shy smile when he met him for the first time, and grinds his cock in deep, making Ryan gasp and push back, and Brendon knew it, he fucking knew this was what Ryan wanted, he just wanted it pulled from him, the little-
"Bitch," Brendon mutters into his ear, grabbing his cock, and Ryan clenches around him, coming without Brendon even stroking him once.
It doesn't take Brendon long after that; thrusting into Ryan's body, Ryan slumped down onto the bed, face buried in the pillow like he can't stand for Brendon to look at him. Brendon threads his fingers into Ryan's hair and jerks his head up, biting the side of his neck when he comes, not hard but he can feel the heat from Ryan's face, feel his humiliation, and god, something sick inside him has been wanting that, so fucking badly. He pushes Ryan's face back down, slapping his ass after he pulls out, and when he drops onto his back next to Ryan, Ryan just looks at him, face half-hidden, and reaches a tentative hand out until Brendon tugs him close.
"I, I don't," Ryan starts, after a minute, voice hesitant, but Brendon cuts him off with a patient but final, "Quiet."
Ryan doesn't say a word until they're back on the bus, and then it's only to ask Jon to pass the remote. He leans against Brendon on the couch, silent, and Brendon presses his fingers to the bruise on Ryan's neck, hidden under his scarf, so Ryan stays that way.
(The first time, he didn't mean to do it.)
The first time, he doesn't mean to do it.
Ryan just won't shut up, Brendon's head is pounding, aching, the sound of Ryan's voice grating on his fucking nerves and it's not like they have all the time in the world, they can't let Jon know and they can't let Spencer know (because why would Ryan tell his best friend when he's so fucking ashamed of who he is, of what he does with Brendon, so ashamed of *Brendon*), and all Brendon wants is Ryan's mouth on his cock to make this worth it, to make everything he feels worth it, and Ryan won't stop talking about the annoying girls in the parking lot, the kids at the show, how he's tired, how he wants some time off, and all Brendon hears is time away from all of them, from Brendon, and god-
"Would you just shut the fuck up and suck my dick?" Brendon asks.
Maybe half a second passes, then Ryan snarls, "Fuck you," and Brendon's palm is tingling, there's a white outline of a handprint forming on Ryan's cheek before Brendon's mind catches up with his body and he registers the echo of the slap. Ryan's eyes are wide and Brendon's cock is hard, aching; he's pushing Ryan down to his knees and opening his pants and rubbing the head of his cock against Ryan's lips, pushing into his mouth, stroking Ryan's smacked hot cheek as he thrusts in, and Ryan's gagging but taking it, opening for him, taking him in inch by inch. All Brendon hears is the wet sounds of Ryan sucking him, and his fingers curl into Ryan's hair, tilting his head back and fucking his mouth until he comes, going deep, holding Ryan in place and coming down his throat. Ryan chokes, pulling off, his eyes watering when he looks up at Brendon, and when Brendon looks further down he can see that Ryan is hard, straining against the front of his pants.
"Get yourself off," Brendon orders, and Ryan opens his pants, hands trembling as he fists his cock, and Brendon watches him, thrusting up into his curled fingers, and rubs his cock against Ryan's face as he does it, and after Ryan finishes, biting his lip, come striping his fist, Brendon says quietly, "Don't touch me with that." Ryan bows his head, licks his hand off, lets Brendon tug him up when he's finished and take him to bed.
Brendon doesn't touch him again that night, and when he wakes up Ryan is curled into him, tucked against his chest. He strokes Ryan's cheek, where his mark has already faded, and when Ryan stirs he nudges him over onto his stomach, licks two fingers and presses them against his ass, Ryan blinking sleepily at him, lips parting in surprise when Brendon thrusts one wet finger into him. Ryan shivers, squirms uncomfortably when Brendon wedges the other in alongside, but he doesn't tell Brendon to stop, so Brendon doesn't.
He doesn't protest when Brendon slaps his thighs apart, gets his ass up and pushes in, just whines a little, and Brendon wants to ask him if he's okay, he does, but what comes out is, "Shut up, I know you can take this." Ryan's breath hitches when Brendon stabs deep; Brendon can feel him trembling, and his skin is cold when Brendon runs his hand along Ryan's side, so Brendon bends him low, presses to his back as he fucks him, and Ryan chokes out a whimper, arching back into him, baring his throat for Brendon. Brendon sets his teeth to the pale stretch of skin, biting to mark.
"They'll see," Ryan whispers, and Brendon pulls almost all the way out before slamming back in, feeling Ryan convulse around his cock, so good he has to close his eyes just to regain his bearings.
Brendon slides his hands along Ryan's arms, down until he's gripping Ryan's thin wrists, sweetly for a bare second before he squeezes hard and says, "Let them."
"You're hurting me," Ryan says, even more quietly, and Brendon thinks of lying on the grass with Ryan, looking over at him, smiling, the first few giddy kisses they shared, the way Ryan slumps against him on the couch sometimes, leaning back into him with a sigh. He thinks of Ryan's shy smile when he met him for the first time, and grinds his cock in deep, making Ryan gasp and push back, and Brendon knew it, he fucking knew this was what Ryan wanted, he just wanted it pulled from him, the little-
"Bitch," Brendon mutters into his ear, grabbing his cock, and Ryan clenches around him, coming without Brendon even stroking him once.
It doesn't take Brendon long after that; thrusting into Ryan's body, Ryan slumped down onto the bed, face buried in the pillow like he can't stand for Brendon to look at him. Brendon threads his fingers into Ryan's hair and jerks his head up, biting the side of his neck when he comes, not hard but he can feel the heat from Ryan's face, feel his humiliation, and god, something sick inside him has been wanting that, so fucking badly. He pushes Ryan's face back down, slapping his ass after he pulls out, and when he drops onto his back next to Ryan, Ryan just looks at him, face half-hidden, and reaches a tentative hand out until Brendon tugs him close.
"I, I don't," Ryan starts, after a minute, voice hesitant, but Brendon cuts him off with a patient but final, "Quiet."
Ryan doesn't say a word until they're back on the bus, and then it's only to ask Jon to pass the remote. He leans against Brendon on the couch, silent, and Brendon presses his fingers to the bruise on Ryan's neck, hidden under his scarf, so Ryan stays that way.
(The first time, he didn't mean to do it.)