In These Lines (3/3)
**
Ryan wakes up a while later, one leg between both of Brendon’s and his head on Brendon’s shoulder, his brother’s arms wrapped around him. He carefully peels them off of him and gets up from the bed. He looks at his phone to check the time, and guesses that their parents must be having dinner now, and they’ll probably be home before too long. He walks around the bed and starts waking up Brendon by putting a hand on his shoulder and shaking him gently.
“Hmmf,” Brendon brings out, and he clenches his hands into fists and stretches a little half-heartedly.
Ryan sets one knee down on the bed and puts a hand next to Brendon’s head. He leans in and kisses him, leans back, and then leans in again just as quick.
“Wanna go shower?” he asks, then, pulling back from the warm, close-mouthed kiss.
“Mm,” Brendon’s not all that coherent in his newly awoken state, but Ryan doesn’t let that, or Brendon’s sleepy protests, discourage him, and he pulls Brendon up. He feels something flare up in his belly when he sees the state of Brendon’s chest, thinking, ‘I did that,’ when he notices his own dried come on the skin there.
Brendon leans back into him when Ryan turns on the shower, a warm weight against Ryan’s chest, and Ryan has his arm firmly around Brendon’s chest. He waits until the water has warmed up enough and then he shuffles them both inside the cubicle.
Brendon braces himself with his fists against the tiles and tips his head back under the spray. Ryan presses up close along his back and cards his fingers through Brendon’s hair. Brendon sighs and lets him get his hair wet, and then Ryan reaches out to take the bottle of Brendon’s shampoo from where Brendon put it on the soap dish after last using it.
He squeezes some of the substance into the palm of his hand, and then starts rubbing it into Brendon’s hair. Brendon hums and moves his head easily with Ryan’s hands when Ryan applies a little pressure to make him turn, making it easier for Ryan to reach certain spots.
When he’s done with that, Ryan uses the foam the shampoo produces to make his hands glide easier when he starts massaging Brendon’s neck. Brendon actually groans, tipping his head forward again to give Ryan better access. Ryan smoothes his hands down further, washes Brendon’s back with the foam, glides his hand over the curve of his ass, and then he leans forward and says into Brendon’s ear, “Turn around.”
Brendon turns, slowly, and then almost seems to want to lean his back against the tiles but he apparently remembers that that would be cold. He has his eyes closed when he tips his face up under the stream again, and Ryan pushes his fingers through Brendon’s hair to rinse the shampoo out. Then, he takes another bottle, shower gel, squirts some of the substance onto his palm and rubs it between both hands before he puts it on Brendon.
Brendon laughs a little, more of a humming sound than an actual laugh. “You take such good care of me, don’t you?” The corners of his mouth twitch upward, and Ryan doesn’t reply, just presses a quick kiss to his smile.
He rubs the gel on the front of Brendon’s shoulders, fingers bumping on his collar bones. He lathers up his chest and stomach, washing away the last remnants from earlier. Ryan’s fingers creep down Brendon’s groin, and then down to his thighs, ignoring where Brendon’s erection is curving upwards.
Ryan grabs the bottle again and takes some more of the shower gel, and then he squats down and washes Brendon’s legs. They still feel smooth, and Ryan brings his hands down all the way to Brendon’s feet, rubbing his legs in circular motions, and then back up again.
Brendon makes a sound, almost a whine but not quite, when Ryan finally curls his slick fingers around Brendon’s dick, and then he lets out a long breath through his teeth. Ryan jerks him a few times with a loose fist, and then he brings both hands up again to push Brendon back a little and wash the soap off of him.
When all the foam is gone, Ryan steps closer and presses his face into Brendon’s neck. He doesn’t taste anything when he licks a strip up the freshly washed skin, but the sound Brendon makes still makes his toes curl with arousal. He’s hard himself, has been for a while, but it doesn’t feel urgent, more like a pleasant pulling feeling at the bottom of his spine. He can wait.
He reaches behind Brendon to feel the tiles, and they’re not so cold anymore now that the warm water has beaten down against it for a while, and he says, “Sit down.”
Brendon’s pliable and sits down on the floor of the cubicle, movements slow but still with a grace to it that most people don’t have. He leans back against the tiles, legs spread and knees bent in front of him, hands curled lazily into fists at his sides.
“Fuck, you’re beautiful,” Ryan lets the words slip from his lips without actually meaning to as he kneels down in front of Brendon. The water drips from Brendon’s hair down the side of his face, and a little bit of it pools in the little groove between his nose and upper lip before it slips down one side and to his chin. His lashes seem darker than usual, now that they’re wet, and when he blinks and his eyes close they become dark smears against his cheeks.
“Touch yourself,” he says, lips brushing Brendon’s ears as he speaks. “I want to see you get yourself off.”
Brendon tips his head back against the wall and bites his lip at the words, not even having touched himself yet when he lets out a small whimper, and Ryan feels a thrill run through his body at his words having such an effect on Brendon.
Brendon brings up his right hand, then, and wraps his fingers around his dick. He has his fingers curled into a loose fist for the first few strokes, but then he tightens his hold and speeds his movements up. His mouth falls open slightly and his breath quickens along with the way he jerks himself. His eyes seem almost closed, but Ryan can see Brendon watching him.
It’s hot, the way Brendon’s abs tighten, his thighs shake as he stretches his legs out, and the way his breath catches every time he flicks his wrist on an upstroke. Ryan leans forward with his hands braced on Brendon’s thighs and kisses from his collar bone up to his neck. He brings a hand up to rest on Brendon’s stomach, just above his belly button, and he feels the muscles flex and contract. He breathes hard through his nose at the feeling even though he’s not being touched at all.
He sits back again to get a better look. The way Brendon is touching himself still seems lazy even though he’s going faster now. Ryan scratches a nail up Brendon’s thigh, and Brendon hisses. Ryan can see the way he tightens his grip, and when Ryan rubs over one of Brendon’s nipples, Brendon pants out, “Ah, ah,” and grips Ryan hard by the chin to pull him close, pull him into a hard kiss that makes their teeth click when he comes.
Ryan can feel the hard puffs of breath against his lips when he pulls back from the kiss a little, and Brendon slowly lets his hand drop away to the side again. Brendon pulls him back, though, and they make out against the wet, dark blue tiles for a while, until Brendon decides to do to Ryan what Ryan did to him, and scratches his nails up both his thighs.
“Now you,” he mumbles against Ryan’s mouth, voice gruff.
Ryan sits back and starts jerking himself off while Brendon watches him do it. Even though it didn’t seem so urgent before, he’s pretty far gone on the first stroke already, knows it won’t take him long.
“Get up,” Brendon says after a little while.
Ryan stands up, his legs feeling a little bit shaky, both from kneeling down on the tiled floor and from the rush coursing through his body.
Brendon sits up on his knees, grabs the back of Ryan’s thighs, and starts kissing his way up from his left knee. Ryan puts a hand down on Brendon’s head, breathing harder the higher Brendon gets.
He speeds his hand up, thumbing the slit every now and then, and when Brendon starts sucking a hickey into the crease of Ryan’s thigh, he pants, “Fuck, fuck.”
He braces a hand on Brendon’s shoulder, pushes him back a little while he almost doubles over as he comes in between them.
He leans heavily onto Brendon, trying to catch his breath as Brendon looks up at him, rubbing his thumb over the hickey he just made. It keeps getting darker, still.
After a while, Ryan straightens up, remembers that he hasn’t washed himself yet, and starts lathering his hair up with shampoo. Brendon is sitting on the floor still, his legs stretched to the side like a mermaid’s. Ryan grins down at him, and Brendon holds on to his calf while Ryan rinses the shampoo and starts with the shower gel.
After he’s done, he extends his hand to Brendon and pulls him up from the floor. He takes two clean towels from the rack and hands one over.
Brendon scrubs the towel over his head and his hair looks poofy when he lets the towel drop to the floor. Ryan smiles at him, steps closer, and tucks a strand behind his ear. In this small room, warm and damp, it almost feels like everything’s muted, subdued, and they can do whatever they feel like.
When they get out though, and Ryan dresses in his ugliest pair of shorts but Brendon comes out of his room wearing jeans, and Ryan raises his eyebrows in question and Brendon answers with, “Kind of don’t want to explain my shaved legs to mom and dad, man,” the calm feeling slips away again.
They watch a movie, curled up on the couch, but Ryan creates more distance between him the more he thinks their parents’ arrival is nearing.
Brendon looks at him. “Does it freak you out?” he asks.
“What do you mean?” Ryan asks, because he’s not sure what part of all this Brendon is aiming at.
Brendon scoots closer. “What we’re doing.”
Ryan bites on the inside of his lip, contemplating before he answers, “Kind of, I guess.” He doesn’t want to lie to Brendon. “I mean, it’s not…” he shrugs a little helplessly. “We’re not supposed to do this, but.” Ryan can’t quite make something of Brendon’s current expression, and he presses close again, undoing the distance he created earlier. “But I can’t help this way I’m feeling.” He cups Brendon’s jaw. “I love you, okay?”
Brendon’s reply consists of crushing his mouth against Ryan’s, and holding onto him tightly.
**
When their parents come home, their mother looks at them, curled up under a blanket on the couch in front of the television, with a disapproving look on her face.
There’s some distance between them now, but underneath the blanket, Ryan’s pinky is hooked with Brendon’s.
“Have you done nothing today?” she asks.
When Brendon and Ryan only smirk at each other and don’t reply, she says, “Well, at least you got up and showered.”
Ryan can’t help but grin at Brendon, and when he sees Brendon grinning back it only gets worse. In less than a few seconds they’re both full out laughing, and their mother sighs exasperatedly and leaves the room.
**
Their parents are home every day the days between Christmas and New Year’s Eve, and Ryan mostly hides out in his room with the excuse of having studying to do. At night, though, Brendon comes to Ryan’s room, sometimes striding over to the bed and proceeding to kiss him almost aggressively, sometimes carefully sliding in next to Ryan and pressing tiny kisses all over his skin.
They’re never alone for long, though, and they don’t dare take the risk of staying in one bed together for too long, afraid that they’ll fall asleep and their parents will find their entangled bodies in the morning.
One night, though, when their parents are out with friends, Brendon comes into Ryan’s room, growls, “Ryan,” and when he straddles Ryan, things go from kissing to feverous touching more than fast.
Ryan kisses up Brendon’s naked thigh, gives a long lick up from the base of his dick all the way up to the head, and when he sinks his mouth down, Brendon pushes one of his own fingers into his mouth alongside his dick.
Ryan swirls his tongue, getting both Brendon’s dick and his finger wet, but he sits back and watches, mesmerized, when Brendon pulls his hand back and then reaches around his raised leg, rubbing his finger down the cleft of his ass. He sees how Brendon slowly pushes the finger inside himself, screwing his eyes shut before opening them wide again, working himself open while he looks at Ryan, and Ryan switches his gaze from Brendon’s face to where his finger disappears into his ass.
“God,” he breathes, and he bends over again, taking Brendon’s dick into his mouth once more but this time stretching his index finger up from the fist in which he holds Brendon’s dick, coating it in saliva. Brendon immediately catches on, knows what Ryan wants to do, and he breathes, “Yeah, yeah.”
When his finger is wet, and Brendon urges him on with, “Come on, Ryan, c’mon,” he bobs off again and slowly starts pushing his finger inside Brendon. He’s tight, and Brendon throws his head back against the pillow when Ryan crooks his finger and curls it around Brendon’s own.
“You ever done this before?” he asks, arousal evident in his voice.
“Sometimes,” Brendon grits out.
Ryan feels his stomach tighten at the thought of Brendon doing this to himself, getting himself off with his fingers in his ass. He curls his finger again, and Brendon’s head shoot up.
“Ah, yeah, right there.”
Ryan does it again. “Yeah?”
He takes Brendon’s other hand from the mattress, placing it low on his stomach before letting go again, and waits for Brendon to take the hint. Then, he slowly starts jerking himself off while he and Brendon both work their fingers into Brendon’s ass.
“Remember what I said?” Brendon brings out after a few moments, in between labored breaths.
Ryan looks up at him.
“I meant it, that you-” he bites his lip when Ryan twists his finger, “-that you take care of me. You always do.”
Ryan looks at Brendon’s wide eyes, the sheen of sweat covering his whole body. He pulls his finger almost all the way out and then pushes back in, curling against that same spot just to see Brendon screw his eyes shut and arch up into his fist.
“I trust you,” Brendon breathes out. “I want you to- oh,” he breaks off into a moan. “Jesus, Ryan. I want it to be you.”
Ryan freezes for a moment, and then his whole body convulses when he comes hotly over his hand and over the bed sheets. “Fuck, Brendon. Brendon,” he moans, and Brendon says, “Yeah,” and flicks his wrist one more time before he’s coming, too.
He winces when they both pull their fingers out. Ryan wipes his hands messily on the bed sheets and tries to stop his breathing from being so loud. His heart is thumping hard in his chest, he can actually see the movement of it beneath his skin. “Are you…” he trails off.
What they’ve been doing, Ryan knows it’s not right. Actual fucking would be a whole new level of wrong, not to mention being the first one to… Ryan gulps, his dick twitching at the thought even though he’s just come, but then he closes his eyes briefly to try and shake the thoughts away.
“You don’t mean that,” he says.
Brendon pushes himself up on his elbows. “Why wouldn’t I?”
“You don’t…” Ryan looks away from Brendon’s face, down to their shed clothes on the blue carpet. “You don’t know what it means.”
“What?” Brendon pushes himself higher on the bed, creating more distance between the two of them.
“If you’ve never done it you don’t know how big of a deal that is,” Ryan looks back up at him, reaching out to touch Brendon’s leg, but Brendon leans away.
“What makes you think I don’t know it’s a big deal? Didn’t you hear what I said?” Brendon raises his voice, and Ryan’s even more grateful for the fact that their parents are not at home right now.
“I…”
“You think I’m an idiot? That if I didn’t think it was a big deal, I wouldn’t have done it already?” Brendon rolls of the bed and starts gathering his clothes up in his arms. Ryan just watches him from his place on the bed. He wouldn’t be able to get a word in between what Brendon’s saying, even if he did know what he’d want to say.
“Damn it, Ryan, what makes you think I’d just say something like that on a whim? What makes you think you know everything?”
Brendon slams the door when he leaves, and Ryan lies back on the bed slowly, staring at the ceiling. Of course he doesn’t think Brendon’s stupid, but he knows about himself that he never thought fucking was such a big deal and how it could ruin things between people, until he’d actually had sex. He doesn’t want things to get weird if Brendon were to regret it afterwards, even though he knows they’re pretty far gone already with how things are now. What Brendon asks of him, Ryan’s just not sure if he can give it to him.
**
The next day, the day leading up to New Year’s Eve, Ryan goes downstairs to get himself some breakfast. Brendon’s at the breakfast table, but before Ryan can even say hey to him, he’s stood up without sparing Ryan a glance, and walks out, back upstairs.
Ryan doesn’t see him again for the entire morning. He can hear him walking around upstairs every now and then, the wooden floor of the upstairs hallway making every footstep audible in the living room, but Brendon doesn’t come down again, and Ryan doesn’t go up.
Sometime after noon, Ryan gets a call from Spencer, inviting him to a party with him and other friends.
Ryan agrees, grateful for a little time away from home again. After they’ve hung up, he leans against the armrest of the couch, drumming his fingers against the leather. Then he takes a deep breath, and goes upstairs.
He hears Brendon call, “Yeah,” after Ryan’s knocked on the door, and he slowly steps inside the bedroom.
“Hey,” he greets his younger brother after going in, and he bites his lip almost shyly when he continues, “I just got invited for this party tonight. You wanna come?”
Brendon’s sitting on his bed, reading a book, and he doesn’t look up when saying, “I’ve other plans.”
Ryan shapes his mouth into a soundless, “Oh,” and then his shoulders sag when he says, “Brendon.”
Brendon still doesn’t look up at him, but when Ryan shuffles closer toward the bed he can see that Brendon’s not actually reading, either. His eyes are fixed on one spot, unmoving, so he must be listening.
“I’m really sorry,” Ryan apologizes. Brendon lowers the book, letting it drop to his lap, but he doesn’t turn his head.
“I know you’re not an idiot Brendon, I just.”
Brendon looks up at him now. He still looks pissed, jaw set and eyes dark. “Just what?”
“I’m just. I’m just scared,” Ryan didn’t mean for his voice to sound so small.
Brendon’s expression shifts at Ryan’s words. “Scared?” he asks, putting the book aside and turning his body towards Ryan.
Ryan nods. “I don’t. What if it turns out to not be what you want? What if I hurt you?”
Brendon swings his legs over the ledge of the bed. He reaches his hand out and catches Ryan’s wrist when Ryan lets out a breath, feeling like he’d been holding it for hours, the way his chest had been feeling tight and constricted for so long.
“Ryan,” Brendon furrows his eyebrows when Ryan stands in front of him. “Did you really not hear what I said? I said I trust you. I didn’t decide it just on a whim.”
“But…” Ryan starts, but Brendon pulls him down and shushes him with a kiss that Ryan sighs into.
“I want it,” Brendon murmurs against his lips, and he pushes Ryan back a little. “I know you do too.”
When Ryan looks up at Brendon he swallows audibly, and he sees Brendon’s eyes following the movement of his throat. “Are you sure?”
“I am.” Brendon leans in for another kiss. “I know I… I shouldn’t want this but. But I do,” he pushes Ryan back and searches his face. “We do.”
Ryan just leans in and kisses him again.
After a while, Brendon looks up at him, smiles apologetically, and says, “I really do have other plans for tonight, though.”
“Oh,” Ryan breathes, slightly dazed from the making out, still. He shakes his head. “That’s. It’s fine, but. I would’ve liked it if you were there.”
“Aww,” Brendon teases, and then drags Ryan back down with a hand fisted in the front of his shirt.
**
They’re with a pretty big group of people, and though Ryan’s enjoying himself, he finds his mind wandering back to his brother more often than not, and he blinks and says, “What?” when he finally notices that Spencer’s talking to him.
Spencer raises a single eyebrow. “Turn around,” he says, and Ryan obliges. “I said: Isn’t that-”
Ryan’s already stopped listening again, because the person Spencer pointed out to him, it’s Brendon. Spencer didn’t recognize him as being Brendon, though. What Spencer saw was the girl from last time in that club.
Brendon’s wearing heels, making his legs look longer and even more slender, the muscles of his calves standing out. He’s wearing fishnet stockings, and Ryan’s fingers twitch as he’s trailing his eyes up, and he sets his drink down on the bar. Brendon’s wearing a black skirt that stops a little higher than right above his knees, and a white, tight, button down. It’s kind of see-through, the button down, and Ryan feels his face heat up when he recognizes the camisole he gave to Brendon as a gift underneath it. Long, dark hair falls over Brendon’s shoulders, shiny in the club’s lights.
“I have to go,” he says a little breathless, and Spencer’s face shows first surprise, then amusement. Not that Ryan really notices, because he’s already walking over to where Brendon’s standing. Spencer says something, but Ryan doesn’t hear him, like his whole being is fixed on Brendon.
Brendon is just about to sit down on a bar stool, when Ryan puts his hand down on his shoulder. Brendon swivels around, and schools his face into a coy grin immediately when he sees it’s Ryan.
“Hey,” he smiles. “What a coincidence.”
Ryan’s fingertips touch the hair curling over Brendon’s shoulder, and he feels one of the straps of the camisole beneath his palm. “You planned this,” he states, can’t help it from sounding like an accusation.
“Maybe I did,” Brendon smirks, and then takes a long sip of his drink while he keeps his eyes locked with Ryan. “Maybe I didn’t.”
Ryan lifts his hand and strokes his thumb over the shell of Brendon’s ear. “Jesus, look at you,” he breathes.
Brendon puts his own hand over Ryan’s. “Yeah? You like it?”
Ryan’s only reply is stepping closer, and he can’t take his eyes off of Brendon. He’s wearing eyeliner, black smudges below his lashes, and his eyes seem bigger and darker than usual. Ryan strokes his hand down Brendon’s smooth jaw, back to his shoulder again, and presses down on the strap underneath the button down. “You’re wearing the cami.”
“Hmm, I am” Brendon hums, confirming. “You wanna dance?” he asks, tilting his head toward the dance floor, and quirks an eyebrow.
“I really…” Ryan trails off, because what he’d really want to do is take Brendon home and touch every bit of skin he can reach, but before he can finish the sentence, Brendon is already pulling him along. Ryan throws a glance over his shoulder to see Spencer giving him a thumbs-up and he smiles a little awkwardly in Spencer’s general direction before Brendon pulls him close.
Brendon places Ryan’s hand on his hip, and Ryan automatically lets his other hand fall to Brendon’s side. Brendon looks up at him from underneath his lashes and puts a hand on Ryan’s shoulder, his fingertips brushing the skin of his neck. The hair framing Brendon’s face makes his features look softer, and Ryan sees his eyes flutter when he strokes his fingers down and brushes the small strip of skin revealed between the skirt and Brendon’s shirt with his thumb.
Brendon tilts his hips forward until they’re pressed firmly against Ryan's, and then sways back again. Ryan dips his hand lower, to the side of Brendon’s hip, curls his fingers and presses down. They’re not really dancing, more pressing against each other and then moving away again in time with the music, so Ryan’s pretty sure the sweat that begins pearling at his hairline isn’t from the effort that takes, but has more to do with how Brendon keeps looking at him and then ducking his head, keeps sliding his hands lower until they’re at the top of Ryan’s ass.
“Brendon,” Ryan says in a low voice, and he leans in, brushes his lips against the side of Brendon’s neck, the shell of his ear. Brendon presses his fingers down and tilts his head back. “Wait here,” Ryan says into his ear, lips still pressed to the skin.
He steps back, letting his hands slide off of Brendon slowly, and then walks away. Spencer grins at him when he sees Ryan coming over, and says, “I thought you said it was awkward, her being the little sister of someone you know.”
Ryan ducks his head. “They’ll get over it.” Spencer laughs, and tilts his head back when he takes a sip of his drink.
“Look,” Ryan tells him. “We’re. I’m going to take us home, okay?”
Spencer lowers his drink. “What? Aren’t you gonna wait for midnight?”
Ryan feels bad, and he bites his lip as he looks away from Spencer, but his skin is itching and his whole body feels too hot to be staying. “I’m sorry, I just. I’ll see you later, yeah?” He steps forward and briefly hugs his friend, stepping away again before Spencer can even return the hug. “Happy new year!” Ryan gives him a small smile and then turns around and takes big strides over to where Brendon is waiting for him.
“Let’s go,” he says, and he shucks off his jacket and puts it around Brendon’s shoulder.
“Such a gentleman,” Brendon teases him. “You don’t want to dance with me anymore?”
“I do, but I want to take you home even more.” He puts his arm around Brendon’s shoulder as he says this, Brendon immediately leaning into him as they walk out of the club.
“How’d you get here?” Ryan asks once they get outside, and he can hear how his voice sounds rushed. Brendon notices too, because he looks up at him and grins, saying, “Are you in a hurry?”
He’s quick to say, “Car, there,” though, when Ryan slides his hand down over the smooth, frilly fabric of the skirt and lays his hand on Brendon’s ass.
“You were allowed to take the car?” Ryan wonders, surprised.
“Mhm, yeah. Mom and dad are celebrating New Year’s at Paul’s, remember? Dad said I could take it.”
“Oh, yeah. I forgot about that,” Ryan says, and he can’t stop himself from squeezing Brendon’s ass, feeling his insides curl when he thinks about how they’ll be home alone since their parents are at their neighbor’s and won’t be home until late.
**
Ryan spends most of the drive touching his fingers to the skin of Brendon’s legs exposed by the fishnet stockings, while Brendon keeps biting his lip and tries to pay attention to the road.
When they get inside the house, Ryan turns around quickly and pushes Brendon up against the only just closed front door. Their breathing turns ragged soon when Brendon pushes a thigh up in between Ryan’s legs, and Ryan can actually feel the pattern of the stockings through the fabric of his pants. He strokes the back of his hand against Brendon’s hair, cups his chin and then kisses him hard.
They slowly make their way upstairs, pausing every few steps to kiss some more, and when they’re finally in Brendon’s room, Brendon walks them both to the bed with a hand fisted in Ryan’s shirt.
They fall onto the bed, Brendon on his back with Ryan on top of him and in between his legs. Ryan sits up on his knees without stopping his kissing Brendon, and slowly begins to unbutton Brendon’s shirt. When it’s open, Brendon sits up, assisted by Ryan’s hand in the small of his back, and Ryan pulls the thing off him and chucks it to the side.
He slides his fingertips over the creamy skin of Brendon’s chest, up over his collarbones and the side of his neck, taking in the sight with hungry eyes. Brendon looks up at him, eyes dark and wide, his mouth pink and soft, slightly opened. Ryan kisses him softly and slides his hand over Brendon’s shoulders.
“Are you sure?” he whispers, and Brendon pulls his head back with his fingers tangled in the longer strands of hair in Ryan’s neck.
“Yes,” he replies, voice sounding fierce.
Ryan shudders, and traces the edge of the camisole on Brendon’s chest, soft skin contrasting with the rough texture of the lace. Brendon looks down and creeps his fingers up the back of Ryan’s shirt, and Ryan immediately sits up to pull it off himself. He throws it in the same direction that Brendon’s shirt went, and it lands on the floor with a soft swooshing sound.
He trails his hands down, over Brendon’s chest and the fabric of the top, down over his stomach to the sharp hipbones, over the skirt and all the way down Brendon’s legs. Brendon lifts his foot, one then the other, and Ryan takes off his heels and ducks down to put them on the floor. Brendon bends his knees and puts his feet flat on the bed, Ryan still on his knees in between Brendon’s legs.
When he smoothes his hands upward again, he dips them underneath the skirt. He breathes in sharply when his fingers meet the top of the stockings, high up Brendon’s thighs. Brendon is holding himself up on his elbows and is looking straight at Ryan when he goes higher, higher until his fingertips touch the panties on Brendon’s hips.
Ryan bends his wrists, lifting up his forearms, to ruck up the skirt, and then he ducks his head and licks a strip up the inside of Brendon’s thigh, from the top of the stockings to the hollow in his thigh right below the edge of the panties. He sits up again to undo the tiny button on the side of the skirt, and then he pulls the zipper down, folding the skirt open. Brendon lifts his hips from the bed and Ryan can easily slide the skirt off his legs, throwing it somewhere behind him without even looking.
Ryan’s eyes widen, drinking in the sight before him: Brendon on his back and holding himself up on his elbows on the bed, spread legs covered in black fishnet stockings, the pale, creamy skin of his thighs and then the panties he bought Brendon. They’re so low that they leave a good part of Brendon’s stomach exposed before the edge of the camisole, and they don’t even cover Brendon’s half-hard dick.
Ryan lets his hands glide up underneath the cami, pushing it up as his hands go higher on Brendon’s stomach, over the bumps of his ribcage. He leans over and straddles Brendon’s hips when the camisole is up high enough to uncover Brendon’s nipples, and braces himself with one hand on the mattress so he can keep his balance while he flicks his tongue against one. Brendon throws his head back, moans, and lowers himself, flat on his back. He grips the back of Ryan’s head when Ryan flattens his tongue against the sensitive skin and licks in broad stripes.
Ryan adjusts the position of his knees on the mattress so that he won’t have to hold himself up with his arms, and uses both hands to lift the cami up higher while he moves his mouth to Brendon’s other nipple.
Brendon gasps, and stretches out his arms above his head so that Ryan can take the top all the way off. Ryan kisses up his neck when he has to lean over further to get the cami from around Brendon’s wrists, and bites Brendon’s ear lobe before sitting up again. His eyes roam over the newly exposed skin, every part just as smooth and creamy and appealing as the next, here and there some freckles scattered in contrast to the paleness, and Ryan wouldn’t know how he’d ever be able to resist this.
He presses his mouth to Brendon’s, and Brendon hums in appreciation against his lips. He shudders when the fabric of Ryan’s white shirt brushes against his chest, and murmurs, “Not fair, too many clothes.”
Ryan laughs and sits up again, starts hurriedly unbuttoning his shirt and shrugs it off. It falls uselessly to the ground right beside the bed, and Brendon immediately rubs his hands against Ryan’s flat stomach. “I suggest you come back down here,” Brendon says, and Ryan thinks he might need to work on the fact that Brendon’s still that coherent.
He leans back in to give small sucks and open mouthed kisses to Brendon’s throat and the side of his neck, occasionally flicking the tip of his tongue against the skin, and then licking right along Brendon’s collar bone.
“Nngh,” Brendon brings out, and, 'that’s better,' Ryan thinks as he looks up. Brendon opens his eyes into slits. “Stop, oh,” he breaks off into another moan when Ryan ducks his head once more and softly bites down on the bone. “Stop looking so smug.”
Ryan laughs, little puffs of breath against Brendon’s damp skin, and Brendon tosses his head to the side in pleasure, willingly exposing the skin to Ryan.
“Uuhn, can you just,” Brendon curls his fingers inside the waistband of Ryan’s pants, and Ryan reluctantly sits back and then gets up, gets off of the bed. Brendon pushes himself up on his elbows again while Ryan stands up and starts working on the buttons of his pants.
When he gets back in between Brendon’s legs, he tilts his hips and rubs them against Brendon’s. Though still separated by the soft cotton of his briefs and the lacy fabric of Brendon’s panties, the touching of their erections makes some white-hot feeling surge through Ryan’s body, and he buries his face in Brendon’s neck and moans as he grinds down harder. He kisses Brendon, hard, until his lips tingle and Brendon breaks away, pushing at Ryan’s shoulders until he gets the hint and rolls over.
His feet hang off the ledge of the bed, and Brendon gets up and kneels on the floor in front of Ryan as Ryan scrambles up. Brendon starts pulling on Ryan’s briefs, and Ryan obediently pushes himself up with his fists so Brendon can slide them off. Brendon looks up at him and bites his lip while he smirks and pulls the underwear from around Ryan’s ankle.
“I want to touch your hair,” Ryan blurts out. “Can I?”
Brendon takes Ryan’s hand and leans into it when he puts it to the side of his head.
“No, I mean… I mean your hair,” Ryan tries to clarify, biting his lip as well when he sees Brendon doing it.
Brendon breathes out slowly before ducking his head down and pulling the long, fake hair off his head. His hair lies kind of flat on his head, and Ryan lets out a throaty laugh when he tries to fluff it up a little with the tips of his fingers. Brendon leans in to the touch, and when he looks up at Ryan his eyes are so dark, and Ryan swallows because, really, Brendon is absolutely gorgeous.
He wants to make sure that Brendon knows it. “You’re beautiful,” he breathes out, and Brendon closes his eyes, turns his head and presses a kiss to the inside of Ryan’s wrist.
Brendon brings up his hand and wraps his fingers around Ryan’s dick, starts moving. It’s a little dry, and Ryan hisses out his breath through his teeth when Brendon moves forward and darts out his tongue to lick between his fingers. He swirls his tongue around the head, and then bobs down, taking Ryan in.
“Oh, god,” Ryan moans, not taking his eyes off of Brendon and letting his fingers sink into Brendon’s hair.
“Like that?” Brendon asks, his breath hot against Ryan’s skin.
“Yeah, yeah,” Ryan brings out, and he pushes his hips up. Brendon chuckles, but still opens his mouth for Ryan’s cock again.
Ryan stares down at him, and he feels too big for his skin. It’s such a hot sight, Brendon in between his legs and the heel of his hand pressed down onto his own cock, and when Ryan thinks about how Brendon asked Ryan to fuck him, his hips twitch forward. He manages to control his movement just in time, and he’s glad because if he’d hurt Brendon he’d never forgive himself. Still, Brendon pulls off and looks up at him, using his hand now instead of his mouth.
His lips are swollen and spit-slick, and Ryan knows that if he’d fuck Brendon now it would be really hard to go slow. He needs something to take the edge off.
“Up, Brendon. C’mon, up here,” he says, while scrambling back on the bed and patting the mattress. Brendon looks at him questioningly, but unfolds his legs from underneath him, adjusting his panties while he gets up and onto the bed with Ryan. “Lie back,” Ryan tells him, and Brendon obliges.
Ryan kisses down his brother’s stomach, and when he reaches the panties he pulls on the white ribbon with his teeth, though the way it’s tied can’t be undone. He mouths at Brendon’s cock, dampening the panties, and noses the fabric. It smells like the fabric softener his own clothes smell like, too, the stuff their mother always uses, and Ryan tries to push that thought out of his mind, thinks about how they’re really going to do this instead.
He takes the waistband of the panties into his hands and carefully starts sliding them down. Brendon pulls up his legs to make it easier for Ryan, following his every move with wide, dark eyes.
The sight’s a huge turn-on; Brendon all the way naked except for the fishnet stockings still on his pale, slender legs. “You mind leaving these on?” Ryan asks him, and Brendon quickly shakes his head ‘no’.
Ryan leans in again, kisses Brendon firmly on the lips before bringing his mouth back to Brendon’s chest. He rubs his thumb over a nipple and then flicks his tongue against it, changing sides and licking until he hears Brendon whimper softly, and his cock twitches at the sound.
He pulls back, and brings himself up until he can whisper in Brendon’s ear, “Do me, first.”
“Wh-what?” Brendon stutters, but Ryan’s pretty sure that he did understand what Ryan meant because he grinds up against Ryan’s thigh. “I want you to fuck me, first,” he clarifies anyway.
“Oh, god,” Brendon moans, and Ryan moves back. “Did you get stuff?”
“Yeah, yeah,” Brendon’s breathing hard and his voice sounds gruff. He gestures with his hands to the nightstand next to his bed. “Top drawer,” he instructs.
Ryan stands up and opens the drawer, taking out lube and condoms. He dumps them onto the mattress next to the pillow, and then lies down on his back, pulling Brendon on top of him. They’re both sweaty already, skin sticking together where they’re touching.
He hands Brendon the bottle of lube when Brendon just hovers over him, not doing anything except for the small, subconscious movements of his hips.
“Have you ever done this before?” Brendon asks him, when he sits back on his heels, opening the bottle of lube while Ryan pulls up his legs with his hands on the back of his knees.
“Yeah,” Ryan confirms. “Not a lot, but. Yeah.”
Brendon puts the bottle of lube down, leans over Ryan, cups his jaw and then kisses him. “Hey,” he says, before kissing him again. “Hey, you’re. I love you.”
Ryan feels his stomach twist, and god this is so, so wrong, but he’s never felt anything like this before, and he surges up and kisses Brendon, hard. “You, too,” he breathes out, and kisses him again.
The kisses are hard and with a desperate edge to it, and soon Ryan pushes at Brendon’s shoulder to remind him of what he’s supposed to be doing.
Brendon screws his face up in concentration when he coats his fingers in a good amount of lube, and bites his lip when he circles the tip of one finger around Ryan’s hole before pushing in slowly. His gaze switches from Ryan’s eyes to where his finger disappears inside Ryan’s body, and he pulls his finger out before pushing it in again, working up a rhythm until Ryan pants, “More, more.”
Brendon pulls out completely, pouring more lube onto his fingers before pushing two back in, and Ryan tilts his hips for better access. When Ryan starts fucking himself on Brendon’s fingers, he reaches around on the mattress blindly for a condom, and tucks it in the hand Brendon has curled around his hip.
Brendon pulls his fingers out, wiping them on the bedsheets before tearing open the wrapper. Ryan sits up when Brendon rolls the condom on a little clumsily, and takes Brendon’s head in both hands while he slides his tongue inside Brendon’s mouth. Then, he lies back again and holds his legs open.
Brendon squeezes more lube into his palm, giving himself a couple of jerks, and then settles between Ryan’s legs, holding himself up with one hand next to Ryan’s shoulder, holding the base of his dick with the other, and starts slowly pushing inside.
Ryan’s mouth falls open. He groans and arches into it, pushing his hips up until Brendon’s sunken completely inside of him.
“Holy sh… Oh god, Ryan,” Brendon babbles. “Jesus, I. This feels so good,” he continues when Ryan growls, “Move.”
Ryan spits into his palm and starts jerking himself of when Brendon pulls out and then pushes back in, starts fucking him in not much of a rhythm but still so, so good. Ryan knows Brendon won’t last that long, and he speeds up the movement of his hand when Brendon’s thrusts turn more frantic.
Brendon’s eyes are closed when Ryan pulls him down with a hand on the back of his head and presses his wet lips against Brendon’s, fucking his tongue into Brendon’s mouth the same way Brendon is fucking into his ass.
Brendon pulls his mouth away, thrusting harder and faster. “Ryan, Ryan, I’m gonna… Fuck,” he moans, and he thrusts forward hard and long, and Ryan squeezes Brendon’s ass when he comes. Brendon’s trying to regain his breathing, then he pulls out and slides the condom off, tying it before throwing it away without looking where it’ll fall. He pushes Ryan’s hand off his cock and starts jerking him off instead, and Ryan’s coming hard after only a few clever flicks of Brendon’s wrist.
Brendon lets himself collapse half on top of Ryan, smearing his fingers through Ryan’s come on his stomach, and Ryan touches his fingers to the edge of Brendon’s stockings. Brendon’s sweating, his make up smeared, dark smudges below his eyes, and Ryan’s never seen him more beautiful than right now.
“Was it. Was I okay?” Brendon asks, and he looks concerned.
Ryan strokes his thumb over Brendon’s cheekbone. “God, yes. Of course,” he assures him.
He kisses Brendon softly, and Brendon’s eyes fall closed while he snuggles closer. They’re both still breathing hard, not having come down completely yet, and it feels like they’re in their own little bubble, their sounds the only ones in the house.
Brendon presses his fingers to Ryan’s lips, and Ryan opens his mouth before he even realized where Brendon’s fingers have been before. He tastes his own come, salty on his tongue, and he feels Brendon’s eyes on him when he sucks the fingers further into his mouth. Brendon spreads his fingers and Ryan licks in between them, until Brendon pulls them out and kisses him instead.
After a while of trading kisses back and forth, Brendon trails his plush lips down Ryan’s jaw, his neck, his chest. He starts doing the same thing Ryan did to him earlier, flicking his tongue out over Ryan’s nipples, and Ryan gasps with surprise when he feels a slight graze of teeth. His cock twitches, kind of sensitive still, but if they keep this up he’ll probably get hard again soon.
Brendon is lying on his side, snug against Ryan, and he lays his leg over Ryan’s hips. Ryan grabs Brendon’s thigh, squeezing and pressing his nails into the skin left exposed by the stockings. After a few moments, he’s pressing his hips up against Brendon’s leg, feeling himself getting more and more turned on already. He flips them over, Brendon onto his back and Ryan holding himself up over him while they continue to kiss.
Ryan rubs his hands up and down Brendon’s sides, and he feels Brendon’s abs tighten when he tickles his fingers teasingly over his stomach. He sits up, and strokes his hands down Brendon’s thigh. He slowly rolls down the garment on his one leg, then the other.
Finally, Brendon is completely naked. He’s beautiful in the warm bedroom light, body glistening with sweat, dark kohl under his eyes, dark and long lashes framing his eyes and freckles dusting his nose and cheeks. His limbs look long in the small bed, his every feature carrying a grace that Ryan could only wish to have. No matter how much they’re alike in so many things, like brothers are, they’re still so different in some things, too.
Ryan lets his hands glide up, from Brendon’s bare calves up his thighs, and then he turns his hands and strokes the back of them over Brendon’s hipbones.
Brendon takes the bottle of lube and hands it over without saying anything. Ryan swallows hard. “Are you really, really sure?” he wants to know again.
“Yes, I’m sure.” Brendon pulls his legs up the same way Ryan had done before. “Very sure.”
Ryan takes the cap of the container and pours the substance into his open hand. He rubs his palms together to warm it, and then glides a finger down from Brendon’s perineum, circling the tip around Brendon’s hole. With his other hand, he takes Brendon’s dick, and slowly jerks him, trying to get him all the way hard while he carefully starts pushing his finger inside.
“How many’ve you used before? When you did this to yourself,” he asks, and when he shifts he feels that he’s hard again already. He hadn’t even noticed before.
Brendon lifts his head. “Two,” he grits out, moving his hips with the way Ryan’s thrusting his finger inside.
Ryan bites his lip. “You know this is gonna hurt, right?”
“Ah,” Brendon moans when Ryan curls his finger, and he throws his head back. “I don’t. I don’t care. I want it.” He lifts his head up again. “I want you.”
Ryan feels a shiver run down his spine, and he pulls his finger out, uses more lube, and pushes two back in. Brendon’s tight, so tight, and Ryan knows he has to be really careful with him, him never being stretched beyond his own two fingers. Ryan’s dick will be something a whole lot different.
Ryan eases his fingers inside, thrusting and curling them until he finds Brendon’s prostate, and Brendon grunts and tilts his hips up, meeting Ryan’s thrusts with his own.
“I’m gonna try a third now, okay?” he asks, wanting to warn Brendon.
“Yeah, do it,” Brendon pants, still fucking himself on Ryan’s fingers until Ryan pulls out, squeezes his first, middle and ring finger together and slowly pushes inside.
It’s tight, but Brendon seems to be quite good at getting himself to relax, and it’s not long before Ryan eases his fingers a ways out again and then back in.
“God, Ryan, just. Do it, okay?” Brendon asks after a few thrusts, Ryan hitting his prostate every single time.
Ryan’s cock twitches again, hitting Brendon’s thigh where he’s leaned over him, and he swallows to try and chase away the dryness of his throat.
Brendon hands him a condom, and Ryan tears the wrapper and rolls the rubber onto himself. He rubs lube over it, giving a few squeezes before he shuffles closer to Brendon and presses the tip of his dick against Brendon’s ass.
Brendon’s face scrunches up and he grips Ryan’s shoulders, pressing his nails into the skin when Ryan starts pushing inside. “Relax,” he tells Brendon, even though he knows that Brendon knows this, and that he’s trying to.
When he’s finally, after what seems like ages, all the way inside, he leans forward and puts his hand down flat on either side of Brendon. Brendon gasps.
“Does it hurt?” Ryan asks, worry etched into his features.
“A little, yeah,” Brendon admits.
Ryan sucks his lips inside his mouth. He feels that it’s unfair that he’s hurting Brendon when it feels so good for him. “Can I move?”
“Yeah, just.” Brendon stretches his neck to kiss Ryan. “Just go slow.”
Ryan ducks his head, looking down in between them while he, very carefully, pulls back. He chokes out a breath, it feels so good, and he has to fight to control himself and not give in to the urge to fuck Brendon as hard as he wants to.
He pushes back, and then away again, a little faster than the last time. Finally, Brendon seems to relax more, and the slide gets a little easier. Ryan lets his hips fall into an easy rhythm, trying to change the angle to find that spot inside of Brendon that’ll make him writhe.
He dips his head down and kisses Brendon’s neck, tiny, light kisses along the skin, and Brendon strokes his hands down Ryan’s back. His palms reach Ryan’s ass, and Brendon squeezes saying, “Faster, you can go… Faster.”
“Fuck,” Ryan grunts, and he moves his hips faster. He shifts his knees, and on the next thrust, Brendon gasps and then moans, pressing his head into the mattress. “God, yes, Ryan…”
“Good?”
“Ah, yes, yes.” Brendon pushes his hands down harder, urging Ryan to go harder, too.
He shifts his weight again, holding himself up on one arm while he licks the palm of his other hand and brings it down to Brendon’s dick. He starts jerking him off in quick, tight strokes, and it isn’t long before he feels Brendon beginning to shake beneath him.
Brendon’s thighs tremble around Ryan’s waist, and he moans out a mostly nonsensical slur. Ryan ducks his head down and kisses Brendon’s collar bone, then licks up the side of Brendon’s neck.
Brendon moans loudly when he comes. Ryan fucks him through it, and Brendon’s muscles contract around his dick and Ryan feels Brendon spill over his fist, he can’t stay behind. He pushes his face in the crook of Brendon’s neck, shuddering when his orgasm floods through his body. He moans into his skin, hips twitching forward through the aftershocks, and Brendon drags his hands up over his sweat-soaked back.
He breathes heavily with his mouth pressed to Brendon’s shoulder for a long moment before he feels like he has enough strength to actually sit up and pull out and discard the condom.
He lies back down again, his whole body pressed alongside Brendon’s, and Brendon immediately reaches out and wraps an arm around him.
Ryan cards his fingers through the damp hair that curls around Brendon’s ear. “Are you okay?” he asks.
“Yeah. I mean, I feel it, but,” he looks Ryan straight in the eyes. “It was good, really.”
Ryan looks down, feeling shy all of a sudden. He puts his hand on Brendon’s stomach, kind of petting him there, and Brendon turns until he’s lying on his side as well and they’re facing each other.
Ryan smiles up at Brendon, somewhat insecure, and Brendon smiles back for a second before his face turns serious.
“I wish you could just stay here,” he confesses.
Ryan presses closer. “I’ll be here for at least another week,” he says. “And then… You know I have my own room, right?”
Brendon looks at him, eyes roaming over Ryan’s face, waiting for Ryan to make his point.
“You could come visit me?” Ryan suggests, and Brendon smiles, says, “Yeah, I’d like that.”
Ryan kisses him quickly. “And,” he then continues. “Only a few more months and you’ll be eighteen, and after that it won’t be long until you graduate. You’ll be out of here, soon.”
“Hmm, yeah,” Brendon hums. “You’re right.”
They’re pressed close on Brendon’s small bed, and it’s a little too hot with both of them radiating heat into each other’s space, but neither of them wants to move away. Ryan takes in every little detail of Brendon. He almost laughs when he thinks about how Brendon started wearing panties as an act of rebellion: what would their mother think if she knew about that, and all that ensued?
He doesn’t want to think about how he can’t stay here for much longer, because they have to clean themselves up and not be in the same bed together, and naked, when their parents come home. He doesn’t want to think about what anyone would think of this.
For now, they still have some time, though, and Brendon’s hands glide down Ryan’s side, up again, fingers tracing patterns into the skin. He pushes himself up and looks over Ryan’s shoulder. “Man,” he says, sounding surprised. “It’s been twelve already!”
He lies back down, brings both his arms around Ryan and hugs him tight. Ryan reciprocates the hug, laughs a little because with the two of them, like this, it’ll all turn out okay somehow.
Brendon presses their mouths together. “Happy new year,” he says, smiling into the kiss, and Ryan sighs, pressing his own smile back. It just might be.