Give Me Just Enough, 2/3

[untappedbeauty]

Master Post/Notes

Give Me Just Enough, Part Two

They all text over the time off, with a few phone calls here and there to iron out the details of the trip to London. It's always a little weird being the one who's separated from the others. They keep Jon informed, but it still feels like he must be missing out by being so far away.

Ryan texts more than the others, calls a couple of times to ask if Jon remembers seeing where Ryan's luggage had been or if Jon stole his favorite shirt. Jon doesn't even know what Ryan's favorite shirt is -- though he suspects it's probably something paisley -- and he has to remind Ryan that Ryan's shirts would never fit Jon anyway.

"Oh, yeah," Ryan says. "But my luggage?"

"Dude, I don't know," Jon says. He's chronically unobservant about that kind of shit, which Ryan would know if he weren't so forgetful himself.

"Shit. I might have to buy a whole new set," Ryan says with a sigh.

Jon laughs at him and abruptly stops when he realizes he can't remember what he did with his own luggage after he got back from Vegas. Then he remembers he never took it out of the trunk. Oops.

Nothing really seems to have changed, which is nice, Jon guesses. It'd be bad for them to get awkward just because things are different now that Jon's not staying with Ryan.

Still, he's really fucking happy when he lands in London and makes it to the hotel only half an hour ahead of the others. He dumps his shit in his room -- two beds, so it's someone else's room, too -- and goes out to wait in the lobby when Zack calls to say they're 15 minutes away.

Brendon and Zack make it in first, and Jon hugs them happily enough, hoping it's not obvious that he's looking over their shoulders for Ryan (and Spencer, of course) to come through the revolving door of the lobby. They head to the front desk to get their keycards, and Jon shuffles his feet, still watching the door.

Spencer makes it through first, and Jon meets him just inside, giving him a tight hug. Spencer ends up lifting Jon off the floor because he's a douchebag who likes to flaunt how much bigger he is than the rest of them now.

After Spencer deposits him back on his feet, Jon's still a catching his balance when a hand reaches out to steady him. He's never been so glad to see Ryan Ross' bony little fingers before.

"Hey, Jon Walker," Ryan says, and Jon gives Ryan his own bear hug, laughing against Ryan's shoulder until Ryan drops his suitcase and it just almost lands on Jon's flip-flop-clad foot.

"Trying to maim me already, Ross?" he asks, and he knows he's grinning like a loon, but so is Ryan, so it's got to be okay. Ryan doesn't smile like that very often.

"Maybe if you wore real shoes it wouldn't be a problem," Ryan says, and Jon deigns to pick up Ryan's suitcase anyway. He carries it into the elevator Zack, Brendon and Spencer are holding, and listens while they bitch about the baby in the row ahead on their flight who kept spitting up all over the place.

"I swear I thought that kid was going to find a way to projectile spit-up in my face," Spencer says.

"It'd only be an improvement," Ryan says seriously, and Jon just keeps grinning like a dope.

When the elevator door opens, Jon waits for the others to go ahead of him, but Ryan stands there waiting, too, until Jon steps out first, then Ryan follows him to his door, and that's. Well, it's maybe kind of a relief.

"Think you can all be ready for dinner in 30?" Zack asks from his doorway.

Brendon and Spencer make agreeable sounds, and Ryan meets Jon's eye for a minute before he says, "Make it an hour? I want to catch a nap. Couldn't sleep with that baby around."

"Gotcha. An hour, then," Zack says. "But I'll pound the shit out of your door if you're not ready by then, Ross."

"Yeah, yeah," Ryan says, and he's close on Jon's heels when Jon slides the keycard in and opens the door.

They don't even make it to the bed. Ryan drops his suitcase just inside the door and grabs Jon's wrist, pulling him closer and kissing him, hot and intense. Jon fucking missed this, and there's a flood of relief that Ryan had to have missed it -- missed him -- too.

Jon starts to go to his knees, but Ryan stops him.

"Let me," he says, and turns them so Jon's braced against the door instead. He slides down, opens Jon's pants, and then he's just going for it, starting to suck Jon in without even waiting for him to be hard.

It's weird, going hard in Ryan's mouth, in Ryan's hand like that, but Jon's nowhere close to complaining, because fuck, this is good. This is fucking fantastic, and even if it's mostly pleasure, Jon won't lie to himself that it isn't a big portion of relief making his knees weak, too.

Ryan pulls off when he's got Jon hard, says, "Missed you," and Jon buries a hand in Ryan's hair, holding on tight.

"Yeah," Jon gasps. "You too."

Ryan's good with his mouth, better than Jon, and Jon bites his lip to try and keep from getting loud, because Spencer and Brendon are next door, and they think Ryan's napping.

Ryan makes a small, choked noise, and Jon pulls his hand away from Ryan's hair quickly. "Sorry, sorry," he says. He hadn't realized he was holding Ryan down, keeping him from pulling back. He pets Ryan's shoulder instead while Ryan gets his breath back.

"I've wanted to do that, you know? Wanted to fuck your mouth," Ryan says, replacing his mouth with his hand. He looks up at Jon from on his knees, and Jon's head falls back against the door, because he's coming hard and without warning.

When he manages to pull himself together enough to look back down, Ryan's wiping come off his face.

"Oh, shit, shit," Jon says, sliding down to join Ryan on the floor. He pulls his shirt off and uses it to wipe off Ryan's cheek and lets Ryan use it to clean off his hand. "Sorry."

Ryan laughs. "Guess I'm going to have to shower before we go out."

"I can make it up to you," Jon promises.

"Oh, yeah?"

"Mmm-hmm."

He does, in the shower. He sucks Ryan until Ryan tugs at his hair, then he lets Ryan take control, holding his head in place. Ryan's so careful about it, though, making sure that he doesn't go too deep, and when Ryan gets close, he pulls out. Jon ends up jerking him off until Ryan's coming across Jon's neck and chest.

In the end, they barely make it into clothes before Zack's texting them to say he's about to come bang their door down.

***

It goes like that, while they're in London. They have to be quiet because of the others being close by, but it's good. They have some fucking amazing days at Abbey Road, and they get really fucking trashed the night before they leave. Jon doesn't know what the hell they smoked, but it was the best shit he's had in a while.

He and Ryan clear Spencer and Brendon out just a few hours before they have to be up for their flight out, and Jon maybe loses track a little. He thinks they talk for a while, and jerk each other off lazily, and possibly watch some cartoons.

It's a good trip, all in all.

***

They don't see each other much between then and when it's almost time for the tour to start. Like, there's publicity stuff, but that shit is tiring and annoying and it never ends, so they don't get a ton of time to themselves.

Jon's getting a lot better at blowjobs, though. He's pretty proud of that. He thinks maybe someday he might even be able to deep-throat Ryan, which he thinks should earn him a fucking award of some kind. That's impressive.

He tells Ryan so in a taxi on the way to an interview that they're way too buzzed to be giving, and Ryan just laughs. But he lets Jon go down on him in the bathroom after they're done taping, so whatever.

***

Honda Civic finally starts, and it's a lot more annoying that Jon would have thought. He'd always kind of assumed that if you were keeping it in the band, it'd be easier to fuck around, but. Not really. They can't do shit on the bus most of the time because it's crowded and there's no privacy whatsoever. Plus, Ryan always seems to be disappointed when Jon keeps quiet so no one will hear them.

The first hotel night, Ryan gets a wickedly eager smile and raises an eyebrow at Jon before the show.

"I have a secret," he says.

"A secret," Jon says. "One you've managed to keep?"

"I can keep a secret, shut up," Ryan says. "Something you imparted when you were not entirely yourself, Mr. Walker."

"And you didn't share when you weren't entirely yourself?" Ryan has a way of babbling when he's high, saying all sorts of shit he wouldn't say sober.

"I was waiting," Ryan says, "for the perfect opportunity. Which is tonight. Spencer and Brendon's room is across the hall tonight," he says.

"Oooh, so it's a sexy secret," Jon says, tapping his temple. "I see."

Ryan nods. "Yeah, you'll see."

Jon rolls his eyes and sneaks a glance around. No one's looking, so he slides in close and kisses Ryan before he sidles away.

There's something to look forward to, then.

***

Jon doesn't have a great memory to begin with. Ryan... Well, Ryan does. Ryan remembers shit people said innocuously months and months ago, which is a bitch when he gets in a fight and has an endless supply of ammo to use against whatever poor soul crossed him.

But there are other times it can be problematic, like when his secret turns out to be something he insists Jon said when he was drunk and high enough that he doesn't remember much of anything but smoke and laughter and maybe watching an episode of The Simpsons. Apparently the last night in London.

"Seriously, you wouldn't stop talking," Ryan's saying, fisting Jon's cock. "I mean, I was a little high too--"

Jon snorts, and Ryan squeezes his cock harder, shutting Jon right back up.

"Anyway, I was a little high, yes, and when I said I was going to shut you up with my cock, you know what you did?" Ryan pauses, maybe for effect, or maybe so he can readjust his grip on Jon's cock, but Jon's weirdly distracted, thinking that it sounds about right that Ryan would say something like that when he was high.

It takes a minute, and when Ryan doesn't continue, Jon asks, "What?"

"What what?" Ryan asks, blinking down at Jon. He's propped on one elbow, and Jon likes it, looking up at Ryan from his back.

"What'd I say when you said that?" Jon reminds him.

"Oh," Ryan says, a slow, pleased smile spreading across his face. It's just almost smug. "You said 'please,'" Ryan says with obvious relish.

"I did --" Jon gasps at the twist of Ryan's hand. "I did fucking not." He shifts onto his side to mirror Ryan's position and stares hard at Ryan to see if he's lying. But Ryan, whose hair is mussed from the pillow, is watching his hand on Jon's dick instead.

"Who was so fucked up he couldn't even get out a sentence without giggling or getting distracted by how weird his tongue felt in his mouth?" Ryan says, and not in a way where he's expecting an answer, which is good, because Jon doesn't feel prepared to say anything. Not with one of Ryan's hands taking advantage of Jon's new position to trail down Jon's back and settle over the curve of his ass.

"You told me all sorts of dirty shit," Ryan says, nodding seriously. "It's nothing I didn't know before, but you really wouldn't stop talking about my cock and how much you love it. How you like how big it is. You said you love sucking it, do you remember that? You said you'd never been fucked by anyone so big and told me that you jerk off thinking about it."

Jon fights very hard not to moan, because he hates it when Ryan's right. Jon might not remember saying all that, but every word is going straight to his cock.

Ryan's fingers slide down the cleft of Jon's ass, then circle lightly before he presses right at the pucker of Jon's hole. He asks, "So, you really want that? You think you're ready for it?" His voice is still even, but rougher than Jon's heard him sound since the last time they stayed up all night writing together, singing made-up lyrics or humming where the words would eventually go.

Jon takes a shuddering breath and spreads his legs, hitching his thigh up over Ryan's hip in invitation. "Yeah," he breathes, and the word almost doesn't exist, because Ryan's right there to swallow it, slanting his mouth over Jon's and stroking between his cheeks, teasing him with one dry fingertip.

Jon makes an impatient noise into Ryan's mouth, and Ryan pushes his finger in, just a little bit, until it gets to the first joint. Jon invites Ryan into his mouth, sucks on his tongue and rolls his hips, encouraging. Ryan wiggles his finger a bit, dragging around the rim of Jon's asshole in a dirty tickle that makes Jon clench and moan.

Ryan just keeps touching him there, rubbing and barely pushing inside, then pulling out and stroking over the tight pucker again, never making a move to get lube and move things forward. Jon finally growls, "Do you want me to change my mind?"

Ryan actually laughs. "You're not going to change your mind," he says, right in Jon's ear, but he rolls Jon onto his stomach and spreads Jon's thighs with firm hands.

Jon grinds into the bed a little, glad for the pressure on his dick, but Ryan's fingers trailing down the cleft of his ass make him still. Then Ryan's hands settle and spread Jon open. That's all the warning Jon gets before Ryan's licking and making pleased humming noises as he kneads Jon's ass and circles his tongue around Jon's hole.

The wet slide of Ryan's tongue there is foreign and exciting and the filthiest, best thing Jon's ever felt.

"Mmmm," Ryan hums, and his tongue pushes inside.

That sets Jon writhing, because no, that's the best thing he's ever felt, by far. Ryan lets go of Jon's ass with one hand and brings his palm back down with a light smack. Jon's whole body jolts, breath catching. If Ryan's trying to get him to stay still, that isn't the way to do it, because now Jon's pushing back, for anything, for more.

Only, Ryan's not giving him more. His hand settles back on Jon's ass and squeezes, but he's going slow, licking around the outside, then pushing in again, slicking Jon open with his saliva. After a few moments, Ryan pulls back and says, "I knew you'd like this."

Jon starts to ask, "Why would --" but doesn't finish, because Ryan spits unceremoniously, right there, and that's...maybe it should be gross, but it makes Jon rub down against the sheets instead, searching for more friction. He can't help the "ah! ah!" he lets out when Ryan uses the wetness to work one finger into Jon's ass, pushing it in all the way, until Jon feels the press of Ryan's knuckles against his skin.

Ryan pulls out and spits again, and Jon has no protests, because oh, god, it helps get him slick enough that Ryan starts to work in two fingers, and it doesn't hurt, not really, just a sting and a stretch. But it doesn't matter that Jon wants it so bad, because his body's reacting on its own, clenching down on Ryan's fingers and trying to force them out.

"Fuck, you're tight," Ryan groans, pushing in deeper. And finally, Jon manages to coax his body into relaxing and letting Ryan in, to stop fighting against the intrusion.

Ryan's been using his other hand to hold Jon open, but he lets go when his fingers curl, and Jon moans, Ryan's fingertip sparking sharp arousal when it brushes over Jon's prostate. Ryan rubs over it again just as his other hand slides down and tickles right behind Jon's balls.

The involuntary arch of Jon's back pushes him farther onto Ryan's fingers and rubs Jon's cock just right against the sheets, and Ryan's breath comes in hot bursts against the back of Jon's thigh when he laughs, low and rough.

"Wow, that's... You're kind of easy, aren't you?" Ryan says, voice as low as his laugh. "I mean, it seems like you like my fingers and my tongue kind of a lot. But I do really want to have you stretched around my cock. You'll let me do that, right?"

Yes, Jon thinks. But he still has enough brain cells functioning to remember a very, very important stipulation. He manages to say, "Not without lube. Lots of fucking lube, not spit."

"Well, yeah," Ryan says easily. Ryan licks around his fingers as they drag in and out of Jon's ass, fucking him, stretching him, and Jon can practically feel those brain cells deciding that they're not really needed, not when everything feels so good.

Then Ryan pulls back, and he keeps talking like he'd never stopped. "But I think one of these days, I could make you beg for it. My cock, I mean," he says, like Jon might be far enough gone not to know what he's talking about. "Maybe... Maybe you won't want to wait for lube. I could make you spit in my hand, and I could use that to get my cock wet. I think I'd like to fuck you like that. I could have you on your back, too, so you could see your spit on my cock even though I wouldn't let you touch it with your mouth." Ryan sounds thoughtful, like the words aren't intended to be dirty or teasing or erotic, just him thinking aloud.

Jon moans at the thought, even if they both know it's a fantasy and nothing else. And those brain cells that should probably be telling him Ryan's words shouldn't be a turn-on seem to have fizzled out of existence, because all Jon can think is that he wishes Ryan were right. But Ryan's cock would be too much to take with just spit, tight as Jon is around just two of Ryan's long, slender fingers.

Jon manages to drag in enough air and concentrate long enough to say, "Your cock's not coming anywhere near my ass without lube."

"I know," Ryan says, and the eyeroll is almost audible. "But don't act like you wouldn't take a third finger right now with just spit. I bet you'd moan for it."

Ryan slaps Jon's ass again, and shit, shit, since when did Jon want to get fucked so much, since when did he want Ryan to bring his palm down harder and warm up Jon's ass before he fucks it? Jon shivers, but he has some pride, and there's no way he's caving this easily.

"Ryan, shut up," Jon huffs. "I'm never putting out for you again if you don't stop being a prick and calling me a slut."

"I don't remember saying that," Ryan says mildly. He pushes his fingers deep, twisting so one knuckle presses tightly against Jon's prostate and Jon claws at the bedsheets from the intensity of the pleasure. Then, "Hey," Ryan says. "Would you finger-fuck yourself to get ready for me? Your fingers, god. If you used two, it'd be almost the same as me using three on you. If you used three..." Ryan sucks in a deep breath, and his voice is low when he says, "I'd like to see that."

Ryan rubs over Jon's prostate again, then pulls his fingers out entirely. Jon fights not to whine at the loss, but he fails when Ryan strokes around his hole as it clenches, and Ryan says, "As much as I love feeling how tight you are around my fingers, I really do wanna see you stretch yourself open. Will you do that for me?"

Jon stutters out a "y-yesss" that stretches into a hiss when Ryan drags his tongue up Jon's spine, then plants an open-mouthed kiss right at the nape of Jon's neck. His breath, hot and wet, stirs the short hairs there, and his lips drag across Jon's skin as he speaks.

"God, Jon. I've wanted to fuck you so much. Did you know that sometimes I watch your hips when you walk, just to see how they move? Ever since we started this, I've wanted to fuck you so I could see a hitch in your step after I'm done."

Jon bites down on the inside of his cheek to keep from letting out the needy noises clawing at his throat; Ryan doesn't need any more encouragement. But Jon doesn't bother to try to repress his physical reaction, rutting his hips forward into the bed, cock stiff against the soft sheets.

He registers the tilt of the bed when Ryan stands, before the bed shifts again a few moments later and Ryan strokes one hand down Jon's back, then over the curve of his ass, one long drag that makes Jon shiver. "Give me your hand," Ryan says.

Jon obeys, and Ryan squeezes lube onto his fingers, smoothing it on, sliding his hand over Jon's fingers in a decent imitation of the way he likes to stroke Jon's cock. He pushes at Jon's thigh with his other hand, spreading him open wider.

"Okay," Ryan says. "Let me see you do it." He lets go of Jon's hand instead of guiding it back, and Jon gets that, gets that it's Ryan wanting Jon to choose this and do it on his own.

Jon hitches his shoulder back obligingly and rubs one fingertip over his hole and around it, to get it slicker, and maybe to tease Ryan just a little like Ryan likes teasing Jon. Ryan bites at Jon's thigh before long, and Jon presses one finger in, slowly and carefully. He buries his face in the sheets to hide the flush that has to be taking over his face, because he can't see Ryan watching him, but he can feel Ryan's eyes burning over him, taking it in.

The stretch of one finger isn't as much as it was when Ryan was working him open with two fingers, but when Jon pulls that one finger out and then replaces it with two, there's the stretch. His wide, shorter fingers are clumsily rough, angle difficult to get just right like Ryan can. He's never done this for Ryan before, let Ryan watch him finger himself, and it thrills through him when Ryan says, "You look so good like this," voice rough as Ryan strokes down Jon's back.

Jon arches a little, just enough to really put himself on display, and Ryan touches Jon's ass then, palming him and holding him open, rubbing his thumb so it brushes against where Jon's fingers are disappearing into his ass.

"Can you use three now?" Ryan says. It's phrased like a question, not an order, but there's pretty much never a question in Jon's mind that he'll do what Ryan asks.

"Mmm," Jon murmurs into his arm, mouth pressed into his own bicep. He screws his eyes shut and works in three fingers. It feels good, and he rocks into it. He'd rather be fingering Ryan, because it's one of Ryan's favorite things and he makes the best sounds. Ryan loves it when Jon feeds him his fingers one by one and fucks him with them, rubbing his thumb over Ryan's perineum and sucking Ryan's cock. But this, well, this isn't bad.

Especially not when Ryan says, "God, so hot, Jon," and licks around Jon's fingers, teasing where they're breaching Jon's body. He gives another tiny lick, then says, "Feels good, right?"

Jon nods into his arm, pulling up one leg to open himself up a little more, make the stretch easier.

"Good," Ryan says. "I love it when you do that to me. Your fingers are practically built for it, you know? Nice and thick. Just a little too rough. It always feels perfect."

"That's why you feel like you have to give me so many directions, right?" Jon asks, laughing a little breathlessly. Ryan never, ever seems entirely content when Jon sucks his cock and fingers him, because Ryan is always giving him more directions: a stuttered, "Ah, ah, can you... harder. Suck harder." Or "Give me another one, come on." Not that Jon minds, but mocking Ryan is fun, so he deepens his voice a little and goes for the roughness Ryan's voice gets when he's turned on: "Jon, Jon, faster, harder! No, wait, slow down! No...faster than that. Yeahhhh, that's it."

"Oh, hush, I don't sound like that," Ryan says, and then Jon's shivering and laughing because Ryan's biting at the curve of Jon's ass and growling playfully. "No talking, just look pretty," Ryan says, and Jon giggles harder and feels completely bizarre, laughing with three fingers in his ass and Ryan muffling his own laughter into Jon's hip.

When he stops laughing, Jon wiggles a little under Ryan to get his attention, and Ryan backs up enough for Jon to push up on his free elbow and look back over his shoulder. "Hey," he says. "That's enough, right? I think I'm ready by now."

Ryan's expression changes fast, the amused smile fading as he bites his lip and looks back down where Jon's fingers are still disappearing into his body. Jon pushes them in a little deeper and watches Ryan's nostrils flare as he drags in a deep breath.

"Yeah," Ryan says, and he's abruptly off the bed, grabbing for his bag again and fumbling inside. It gives Jon a chance to pull his fingers out, grimacing a little at the wet sound of it, and wipe his fingers off (totally discreetly!) on the far edge of the sheet. He rolls onto his side to watch Ryan curse and toss stuff haphazardly out of his bag.

"Hah! Last one," Ryan says at last, holding up a wrapped condom like it's a prize.

"Congratulations to your dick," Jon says, grinning at Ryan's triumphant expression.

Ryan sticks his tongue out, then scrambles back onto the bed, skinny limbs pale and long and always a little awkward. "Is it congratulations to my dick or congratulations to your ass?"

"Jury's still out on that," Jon says. "Now come the fuck on."

"Okay," Ryan says. "Just..." He tosses the condom down and dips his head so he can tilt Jon's head just right and kiss him again. Which, that's good, that's nice, Jon likes the kissing. But Ryan's made him wait for a really long time, and now would be a great time to get this show on the road. Jon makes a small, protesting noise into Ryan's mouth, and Ryan's mouth curls into a smile that makes it impossible for them to keep kissing.

Ryan pulls back, grin firmly in place. "That," he says, "sounded like a 'please' just begging to get out."

"Is that all I have to say to get you to fuck me?" Jon asks. "Absolutely. Pleeeeeeease?"

Ryan wrinkles his nose. "You're doing it wrong," he protests. "You have to mean it."

"Believe me," Jon says, and his voice sounds gravelly now without him trying to imitate Ryan. "I mean it."

Ryan licks his lips, mouth softening and eyes going darker, and says, "Yeah, yeah. That's. I believe that." He runs his free hand lightly down Jon's back, then back up, nudging gently. Jon takes the hint and rolls back onto his stomach, burying his face in the crook of his elbow.

"Okay," Ryan says, and he's talking to himself, soft and concentrated. "Okay, let me just."

Jon shivers a bit when Ryan's fingers are back at his hole, pushing in two that are slick with more lube, and Jon would complain that he's ready already, but then again, there's no being too careful when you've never been fucked up the ass by Ryan Ross, he of the porn cock.

Still, an impatient noise slips out when Ryan starts moving his fingers and pressing against Jon's prostate again. He'd just really, really like to feel Ryan's cock any day now.

"Okay," Ryan says again, and there's the soft sound of him wiping his fingers off on the sheets, then the rustle of him fumbling with the condom, which, fuck, Jon had been starting to feel like they were never going to use.

He almost laughs when Ryan growls a little and keeps fumbling with the condom for fucking forever, but then all of a sudden, Ryan goes completely quiet and still, then says. "Oops. Um."

Jon doesn't like the sound of that. "Oops what?" he asks, muffled into the skin of his forearm.

"I, uh. I broke it."

Jon's body freezes, and a frustrated sound grinds its way out of his throat. "Please tell me you're referring to breaking the land speed record for getting on a condom."

"Um, no," Ryan says. "I broke the condom. I couldn't get it open, and then I ripped it too hard and, uh. It's broken."

"Fuuuuck," Jon says.

"I know." Ryan sounds really fucking sad and pathetic, and Jon feels really fucking annoyed and frustrated, because he's been waiting and fucking waiting, and now they don't even have a fucking condom, and fuck.

Jon grinds his forehead down hard against his forearm so he doesn't follow up on the urge to glare at Ryan and tell him where to stick it -- not in Jon's ass, apparently.

"I could... There are condoms on the bus, I think. I could go down and get some?" Ryan says.

Jon sighs. "No, it's. It was just a thing, I just wanted. But we can do something else." He feels let down just saying it, though, which is stupid, because sex and orgasms! It's all awesome! But after all the buildup, it's like getting a bike for Christmas when you really wanted a pony. Still, Jon starts to roll back over, until Ryan puts a hand on his shoulder and to stop him.

"I think there's something we can-- I can make it up to you," Ryan says. "It's not what you wanted, but. Just. We can try something.

"Here," Ryan says, and his hands curve around Jon's hips, pulling a little, urging him onto his hands and knees.

Jon strains to look back over his shoulder. "You know it's not just no lube, no go, right? You're not fucking me without a condom, dude."

Ryan rolls his eyes and plants a hand in the center of Jon's back. "Duh," he says. "Just go with me here, okay?"

Then he pushes at Jon's shoulder, down, and guides his arms up. He wraps his hands over Jon's, guiding them to the headboard. "Hold on, okay?" he says.

Jon nods, and drops his head so he isn't staring at his hands. Hello, there, dick, he thinks to himself, looking down his body. It's a broad, stable pose that Ryan's put him in, but then Ryan's hands are at Jon's outer thighs, and he's pushing like he wants Jon to unspread, press his thighs together.

"What... That's not going to work," Jon mumbles unhappily. "I'm going to fall over." But he brings his legs together anyway, tightening his grip on the headboard even though Ryan's holding his hips now, firmly.

"I'm not going to let you fall over," Ryan says. "Trust me."

And Jon can feel Ryan's knees settling outside his own, spread wide enough for stability, and Ryan's sort of blanketing him then. His chest presses against Jon's back, and one hand settles just outside of Jon's on the headboard, so his thumb is pressed against Jon's pinkie. But that's got nothing on how Ryan's cock is snug against Jon's ass, until he says, "Can you, uh, spread. Just for a sec, okay?"

Jon's stomach swoops like he's just broken the crest on a roller coaster and is falling fast. He slides his knees apart just enough, and then Ryan's adjusting his hips, pushing his cock into the space between Jon's thighs, slick with lube he must have smoothed on when Jon wasn't looking. Ryan's breathing goes rough against Jon's ear, and his other hand settles on the headboard, next to Jon's, and Jon's completely covered by Ryan, all along his back and outside his arms and legs, and between them, too.

Ryan grunts, just a small, rough sound, then nudges Jon's side with one elbow. "Close up," he says, and Jon does.

He feels precariously balanced, with no control because of the way his knees are pressed together. But there's Ryan's cock snugged up between Jon's thighs, and when Ryan shifts the tiniest bit, the head of his dick nudges right behind Jon's balls, wet with lube and precome, and Jon nearly topples over from the reflexive way his body tries to push back against Ryan.

Ryan, though, tightens his grip on the headboard, body tensing to keep them both up.

"You should, uh, probably try not to move much. I can do the work. If this is okay, that is?" Ryan's hips flex forward as if to punctuate the question, and Jon nods mindlessly.

"Yeah, no, this is good. This is great. This is... You should keep going," Jon says. His voice sounds thready and weak. He really doesn't care.

"Thank fucking God," Ryan says, and pulls back and pushes forward harder, then actually starts fucking the narrow space between Jon's thighs while Jon tries to keep them clenched tight for him.

It's not what Jon had wanted, and he would probably be disappointed still if it weren't for the fact that Ryan's dick still feels good there, between Jon's legs, the thick length of it sliding back, back, back, then pushing forward, cockhead sliding over the sensitive skin of his perineum and rubbing against his balls with every stroke. Jon's shuddering and sweating, and he wants to touch his cock, but he can't. He has to keep still so Ryan can keep doing that.

But Ryan's smart. Jon loves that Ryan's smart, because that means Ryan's shifting, putting more of his weight on Jon's back -- but that okay because Jon can hold them both up if he has to -- and one of Ryan's hands settles above Jon's knee, then slides up the front of Jon's thigh, tickling as it rubs the hair there in the wrong direction.

Ryan's hips keep working, fucking forward, and he huffs out of breath against the side of Jon's neck before he says, "Tighter, can you tense up for me?"

Jon tries. His knees are as close together as they can get, but he tenses his thighs as much as he can.

"Yeah," Ryan breathes out, and kisses Jon's shoulder, then sets his teeth there, nipping lightly.

And then, finally, Ryan grabs Jon's cock, pumping it roughly a couple of times with a too-dry hand. But it only takes a minute before he rubs his palm over the head of Jon's cock enough to gather some of the precome there, and he uses it to ease the slide of his palm over Jon's shaft. He flicks his thumb over the head on his next upstroke, and then his cockhead nudges right behind Jon's balls, and oh, shit, Ryan's good at this, and Jon really, really wishes that condom hadn't broken.

"Good?" Ryan asks raggedly, hips and fist working just almost perfectly.

Good doesn't really do it justice, but Jon hisses an affirmative anyway.

"You're doing so well, Jon," Ryan says. His hand abandons Jon's cock, and Jon whines unhappily before Ryan's "shhhh," makes it to his ears and Ryan's hand goes to Jon's balls. He lifts them and cups them against Jon's body.

"You feel that?" Ryan asks. His pace slows so that he's pushing forward achingly slow. Jon can feel every inch of Ryan's cock sliding against his inner thighs, before the head pops through, where it would have nudged against Jon's balls before.

"Look down," Ryan says, and Jon does, opening his eyes dazedly. There's Ryan's hand, cupped around his balls, holding them and his cock out of the way, and there's the head of Ryan's cock, wet and dark between Jon's thighs.

Jon moans, eyes falling back closed, and Ryan rolls Jon's balls in his palm, tugs on them a little, enough that Jon shudders and cries out. But Ryan lets go just as quickly and goes for Jon's cock again, jerking him until Jon's thighs are trembling each time Ryan's cock slides back forward.

"God, it's so tight, Jon," Ryan says. "Unbelievable. It's gonna feel even better when I get to fuck you."

Ryan's hips shove forward hard, and he tugs sharply at Jon's cock, and then Jon's crying out shamelessly, because he can feel it, the splatter of Ryan's come against his balls and between his thighs, slicking them up even more. Ryan fucks forward unevenly through his orgasm, and one hard nudge of his cock hits Jon just right, so he's coming with Ryan's hand tight on his dick and Ryan's come sliding down his inner thighs.

Ryan's shaking when Jon finally stops shuddering and coming, so Jon flops down on his stomach so Ryan can stop holding himself up on the headboard. Ryan still falls half on top of Jon, but it doesn't make Jon have to gasp for breath much harder, anyway.

"So yeah," Ryan says eventually, once their breathing has evened enough for speech. He rolls onto his back. "We should probably both make sure we have condoms from now on."

"Yeah," Jon agrees. "But, uh, that wasn't too bad either."

"Duly noted," Ryan says. "I just wish we didn't have to wait now, you know? Next hotel, I guess."

"What, you don't want to do it on the bus?" Jon asks.

It devolves pretty quickly from there, until they're singing "Why Don't We Do It in the Road" to the ceiling.

***

It was a matter of time, really. The whole band spends way too much time together on the bus for them not to get caught.

It's just weirdly anti-climactic that they're caught because Jon runs into Ryan on the way out of the bathroom, and Ryan pushes him back inside. Ryan shoves a hand into Jon's pants and kisses him quiet while he jerks him off.

Not quiet enough, though, because when they open the door and step out, Jon straightening his shirt, Spencer's staring at them calmly. He calls over his shoulder, "Hey, Brendon, looks like Jon and Ryan are done. Bathroom's free now."

Brendon peeks over Spencer's shoulder, and they all stare at each other.

"I think we need to lay down some rules about intraband sex on the bus," Brendon finally says gleefully. "The couches should definitely be off-limits. And the bathroom."

"As long as you don't rule out your bunk," Ryan replies. "It's our favorite." He grabs Jon's hand, making over-the-top moon-eyes at him, and it's ridiculous, totally ridiculous, but also really fucking nice.

Brendon makes a face. "Your mom is my favorite."

***

There are candles in the hotel room when Jon gets out of the shower after the next night's show. Actual candles beside the bed. Which is weird, because Jon doesn't remember them being there when they got back.

But Jon takes one look at Ryan and starts laughing, because Ryan's just wearing a fluffy hotel bathrobe, and he has a string of condoms and lube sitting next to him on the bed.

"What?" Ryan asks defensively. "I'm being romantic."

It takes Jon a minute to stop laughing and catch his breath. "I don't rate champagne and roses?"

"You're an ass," Ryan says grumpily. "Ruining my carefully constructed mood."

"Awww," Jon says. "I'm sorry." He settles on the bed next to Ryan and sniffs the air. "Rose-scented candles? That kind of makes up for the lack of roses."

"Yeah, yeah," Ryan says. "Do you wanna do it or not?"

"You have to ask?"

Ryan smirks. "Maybe I should've gotten you high first. I could've heard you beg for my cock again."

"You wish," Jon snorts, but he tugs at the belt of Ryan's robe.

"Yeah?" Ryan asks.

"Yes. Idiot," Jon says fondly.

Fondness is pretty quickly replaced, because yeah, Jon's been ready for this for a while, and now they have a whole slew of condoms and plenty of time, and Ryan's already hard.

"How do you want to do this?" Jon asks.

"Thought I'd leave that up to you," Ryan says. He's playing with the edge of Jon's towel, tugging at it. Jon rolls on top of him, straddling his hips, and lets Ryan pull it off.

"Hmm," Jon says. "Maybe on my back?" The idea excites him a little, thinking that Ryan could look down and watch, see how wide his cock will stretch Jon. "Yeah?"

"We can do that," Ryan agrees. "You want me to suck you first?"

"Pfft. Like I'm gonna turn it down," Jon says. He lets Ryan roll him onto his back, and he spreads his legs so Ryan can lie between them.

"Give me the lube," Ryan says, holding out one hand. He touches Jon's cock with the other, just kind of cupping him, rubbing softly and waiting for him to get harder. Jon passes over the lube with a minimum of fumbling and is pretty proud of himself.

Ryan abandons Jon's cock to pop open the lube, and Jon picks up where Ryan left off, stroking his cock slowly and waiting until Ryan's got his fingers coated.

"Okay," Ryan says, and his clean hand takes over for Jon's. He ducks to take Jon's cock in his mouth, and presses his other hand between Jon's legs. He pulls off Jon to say, "Hey, can you get a pillow or?"

And Jon's already moving, grabbing a pillow and tucking it beneath the small of his back.

"Better," Ryan says, and takes Jon back in at the same time one finger circles his hole.

It's a little much, feeling the careful penetration while Ryan's blowing him, but Jon grips the sheets and tries not to move too much, because Ryan doesn't have an extra hand to hold his hips down.

Ryan's faster this time than last time, probably considerably less patient because they haven't smoked up and aren't feeling lazy, and if Ryan's anything like Jon, he's just urgent, done, tired of waiting.

So Ryan graduates to two fingers quicker, then three, mostly just stretching and not trying to drive Jon out of his mind by pressing on his prostate. Maybe he knows Jon could come pretty easily, with the way Ryan's sucking him so good, and just knowing what's coming next.

Ryan pulls out his fingers and gives a lick to the head of Jon's cock, then grabs the lube again.

"You need a condom now?" Jon asks breathlessly.

"Just a few more minutes," Ryan says, and pours more lube over his fingers. He fits them together and watches, and when they start sinking in, Jon writhes a little when he realizes it's three fingers plus Ryan's pinkie.

"Oh," he gasps, and Ryan grasps his cock at the base, squeezing.

"Want to make sure I don't hurt you," Ryan says, and his voice sounds strained. Jon nods mindlessly against the pillow and pulls his legs up closer to his body, opening himself up to Ryan more.

"God," Ryan breathes.

Jon feels hot all over, and like maybe he could go crazy if something else doesn't happen soon. He fumbles across the bed until he hears a crinkle, and then he tears the wrapper open and shoves the condom toward Ryan. "Come on," he says. "Come on, I'm ready."

"Fuck." Ryan pushes his fingers in deep, deep, deep, then pulls them out with a wet sound, and Jon's beyond blushing, just beyond anything but want.

Still, he pushes up on his elbows, because there's nothing left to be embarrassed about, and he watches Ryan roll on the condom and lube up, stroking himself and gasping. "Fuck," Ryan repeats, and lines up between Jon's legs.

Jon falls back and tries to hold himself open, but his whole body feels like it's going liquid when Ryan's cock presses against his hole, huge and hot. "C'mon," he prods.

Ryan takes a deep breath, and then his hips push forward. Jon grabs Ryan's arm, digging his fingers in. God, it's... too much, almost. More than too much, maybe. He doesn't know. It's so much pressure, and when he thinks it's just not going to work, Ryan's pushing through, and Jon's grunting at the unbelievable stretch, the strain of taking Ryan in.

Ryan doesn't push in far before he stops, breathing heavy against Jon's temple. "Okay?" he asks unsteadily.

"Ah," Jon says. He can't really find words right now, so he has to breathe and wait, and Ryan's waiting, too, hips starting to press forward, then freezing in tiny, aborted movements. Jon wishes it hadn't been so long since he'd last done this, fleetingly, but then he discards the thought because fuck, Ryan's inside him, and it's overwhelming in the best way imaginable. He's going to be so sore, and the thought makes him moan. Finally, he manages to say, "Okay, I'm okay, keep going."

Ryan doesn't question him, but he's careful, pressing forward achingly slow, so Jon can feel every inch. He's shuddering and sweating and writhing on Ryan's cock, and it's the best fucking thing he's ever felt.

Ryan doesn't bottom out right away, and it takes Jon a minute to notice when Ryan pauses, shifting so he can press Jon's leg back, holding him behind the knee.

"What is it?" Jon asks. He sounds like he's been drinking and smoking for 24 hours straight, his voice is so fucked up.

"Just hold on," Ryan says. He doesn't sound much better. "You need to take a minute, get used to it, okay?"

Jon nods without thinking, and he can't help it. It's intense enough as it is, but still, he has to try something: He clenches around Ryan, just to see how it feels, and his eyes roll back in his head even as Ryan grunts and grips Jon's leg tight, fingers digging in next to his kneecap.

They both gasp for breath for a minute, and Jon starts laughing. He only gets one chuckle out before he ends up choking on his next breath because of what it does to his muscles.

When he opens his eyes again, Ryan's jaw is clenched tight, and Jon reaches up with a shaking hand to push back his hair. "Sorry," he breathes, and Ryan turns his face into Jon's hand, nuzzling his palm.

"S'okay," Ryan says, and then, he's pulling back carefully and slowly before he pushes back in, further than before, and Jon clutches at Ryan's back, because oh, there. That feels something close to amazing.

Jon feels lost in his own body after that, too much pleasure, too overwhelming. He feels entirely taken, like he's not even in control of his own body. He lies there, clutching at Ryan and tightening around him involuntarily each time Ryan pulls out. It takes him a while to realize that the steady "oh!" he's hearing is coming from his own mouth, every time Ryan pushes back in.

It's "oh, oh. Oh! OH!" And if Jon had the capacity, he might be embarrassed, but it's all sensation, he's all sensation. He's all Ryan's, so he lets go and rides it out: The feel of Ryan's pubic hair brushing under his balls when Ryan finally starts pushing all the way in. The sounds of Ryan's pleasure, his soft grunts. The heat of Ryan's breath against Jon's mouth before Ryan seals their mouths together and kisses Jon while he fucks him shallowly, then deeper after he tears his mouth away to groan.

Ryan's asking him a question. It takes a moment to register, because Jon's lost. But his name makes it through.

"Jon," Ryan says. "Can you hold your leg here, like this?"

Jon nods before he fully comprehends, but Ryan waits until Jon hooks a hand behind his knee before Ryan lets go. The back of Jon's knee is sweaty, and his fingers slip, but he manages to hold on and then get a better grip.

It's a good thing, because then Ryan's free hand is between them, grasping Jon's cock, and any capacity for understanding words that Jon had is obliterated.

"Ryan!" he cries, desperate and close. Ryan gentles his hand on Jon's cock, but keeps fucking him in long, deep strokes. Jon doesn't know, doesn't have the slightest clue how Ryan can have any control right now, but he knows he should be glad for it.

Still, Jon doesn't manage to hold out much longer. It feels too good to have Ryan inside and outside, touching him everywhere, and with one hard tug of Jon's cock and one perfect thrust, Jon would swear he blacks out because he's coming so hard.

When his mind clears, he registers that Ryan is holding still, completely still, and then he's pulling out, slowly and so, so carefully. Jon makes a small, upset sound at the loss, but that's all he can do. His arms aren't working anymore.

"Why'd you stop?" he asks when he can get his vocal chords to cooperate.

"You're going to be sore enough," Ryan says, and kisses Jon's forehead. He eases Jon's legs down to the bed and stretches out beside him. His cock is still hard, and it presses up against Jon's hip.

"Gonna do something about that?" Jon asks tiredly, flexing his legs. There's a sharp twinge between them, and Jon shivers at it. He almost wants to reach down and feel, knows he's swollen from it, but his arms don't want to work.

"Mmm," Ryan hums. "Thought I'd make sure you're okay first."

Jon smiles blissfully. "You really have to ask?"

"Nah," Ryan says, and then he's taking hold of his own cock and stroking. "Thought it'd be the polite thing to do."

"Mmm," Jon hums, and watches Ryan jacking himself off. That was inside me, he thinks, absurdly proud. "Such a stud."

"You loved it," Ryan says, and his strokes are already getting uneven.

"Yeah, I did," Jon says easily. "Think we could do it again soon?"

Ryan gasps and comes over his hand and across Jon's hip. Despite his reaction to Jon's words, Ryan gives him a narrow-eyed look. "Not as soon as either of us would probably like," he says unevenly when he's started to catch his breath.

"Yeah," Jon sighs. Still. Sometime. That's good.

He should clean up, he knows it. But Ryan shifts off the bed, and then he's back with a wet washcloth, and Jon stretches underneath him, letting him do all the work instead.

"Nice," he murmurs.

"Go to sleep," Ryan says.

Jon thinks Ryan might drop a kiss in his hair after that, but he can't be entirely sure.

***

Jon's sore when he wakes up. He's lying on his stomach, bladder protesting, and he shifts, stretching. That's when he notices it, the ache in his ass and his thighs.

Ryan makes a snuffling sound next to him, and Jon turns his head to see Ryan's limbs flung wide, taking up at least two-thirds of the bed.

Jon rubs his toes against Ryan's leg, smiling sleepily, then eases out of bed. He's gotta take a piss, and a shower would definitely be a good idea.

His ass twinges when he climbs into the shower, and he sort of likes the way it feels. He keeps shifting his stance while he washes his hair and soaps up his body, but he waits until he's done before he lets himself reach back. He rubs his fingers where it aches, just softly, then prods a little until the throb flares. He shivers even though the water's still plenty hot.

He's more than half hard when he gets out of the shower. He could take care of it himself, but he thinks he'll let Ryan do it instead.

Ryan's pliant when Jon nudges him over, and agreeable when Jon jerks him off lazily. Ryan gives him a sloppy blowjob, rubbing his fingers just over Jon's hole. Jon whimpers and comes in Ryan's mouth.

"Hurts?" Ryan asks a minute later, petting the curve of Jon's ass almost apologetically.

"In a good way," Jon reassures him. Definitely a good way.

***

It feels almost like... Jon feels stupid just thinking it, but it feels almost like they're dating. Not just being friends who also happen to fuck.

They go rug shopping together, and Jon's almost embarrassed when he wonders if the camera will make it look as domestic as it feels. Ryan borrows Jon's hoodie and wears it every time he gets cold on the bus. Ryan gets ribs delivered to their dressing room when they're at Stubb's in Austin because he knows they're Jon's favorite. Jon wakes up with Ryan's jacket draped over him, and he snuggles into it before Brendon clears his throat and Jon remembers the photojournalist on the bus with them.

Sometimes they just make out and fall asleep together, and Jon wakes up content and warm.

***

Ryan's running his fingers along Jon's belly absently, and Jon squirms a little. "That tickles," he says, and Ryan spider-walks his fingers over Jon's skin anyway.

"Gotta get back at you for your stupid beard and stupid beard burn on my thighs," Ryan says, pulling Jon in closer and resting his chin against Jon's shoulder. Jon's back is still a little sweaty, but Ryan's not complaining, pressed up tight against it. It makes it easier to ask when Ryan's not looking at him.

"Have you ever, uh, thought about a threesome?" Jon asks.

"In general?" Ryan asks. He sounds cautious, maybe even bordering on suspicious.

"Well, not just. I mean, we could get someone to... with us," Jon says. He stares at Ryan's hand on his stomach until it slides away and Ryan turns onto his back, away from Jon. "It could be hot," Jon says weakly.

Ryan's quiet for long enough that Jon has to turn over and look. Ryan looks blank, but he nods slowly.

"Is that something you want?" he asks.

"Sort of," Jon says. "I'd just. I'd like to see."

Ryan's shoulders straighten a little, and he's all tense where he was totally relaxed just a minute ago. "Did you have someone in mind?" he asks.

"Not really," Jon says. He shrugs helplessly. How can he say that he doesn't really care who it is, and the more faceless the better, so Jon will never have to see them again afterward?

"A fan?" Ryan asks.

Jon's eyes widen. "No, no. Not a fan."

"A friend?"

Jon's quiet. "I maybe haven't thought it through much," he confesses. That's mostly true, but kind of a lie. He's thought about watching Ryan, seeing what it looks like when Ryan fucks someone else, but he hasn't been able to figure out who it could be.

"Hmmm," Ryan hums. It sounds distant, and Jon burrows into the pillow, missing Ryan along his back. He falls asleep before he hears if Ryan has something else to say.

***

Ryan doesn't mention it the next morning or anytime that day. He doesn't mention it the day after that either, or the following week. Jon figures he forgot about it, or maybe he's silently vetoing the idea.

Jon's sort of frustrated that Ryan hasn't said anything, but not enough to bring it up again. It was hard enough the first time.

Plus... Plus, there's that part of him that's really fucking relieved. That part of him tenses up every time he thinks Ryan might bring it up, until a couple of weeks have passed and Jon writes it off as forgotten.

Part Three