Possession 3/5
Ryan hadn’t moved in two hours. He hadn’t moved when Pete had rolled away from him, pulling on his clothes and leaving with a quiet “see ya”. He hadn’t moved when his head had started to ache, sharp stabbing pains behind his eyes. He hadn’t moved even though the smell of sex and skin on his bedclothes was anything but a comfort. So when his cellphone started ringing, he was surprised to see his hand inching across the comforter to the bedside table.
“Hello?” Ryan said, answering it without checking to see who it was.
“So you are never going to guess who’s at the counter getting coffee right now,” Brendon said without preamble.
Ryan groaned. “Are you ever not working?” he asked.
“Well, yeah, I’m off today, actually, but Jon isn’t. I’m waiting for his shift to end. No but I’m serious. You will never guess.”
Ryan wasn’t in the mood for games but he didn’t want to hang up, either. Brendon’s voice was soothing in his ears, alleviating some of the tension in his body and making him feel a little more human. “Okay, tell me.”
Brendon’s voice went from playful to carefully even. “Pete Wentz and Spencer Smith.”
Ryan sat up so fast his head spun and he hadn’t realized he’d shouted until he caught the faint echoes of a shocked WHAT? in his own ears.
“Yeah,” Brendon said, talking a little bit quieter now. “It’s fucking ridiculous, right? Like, okay, Spencer came over last night and passed out on the couch and then when I said I wanted to come see Jon he was all, whatever, I could use a coffee. So then we got here and I ordered and Spencer ordered but he went back up for another one, the guy is seriously mainlining caffeine right now I swear to God, and your fucking whateverheis walked in and now they’re standing at the counter together and Jon looks like he’s gonna shit a brick.”
Ryan raked a hand through his sex and sleep tousled hair and grimaced before saying, the words slow and careful, “Brendon. Spencer doesn’t know about Pete, does he?”
There was nothing but the tinny, static-y background noise of the Starbucks and Brendon’s quiet breathing.
“Like, are they talking?” Ryan asked, trying not to panic because it wasn’t warranted, not if Spencer and Pete were just standing there, two ships passing in the dark.
“Um,” Brendon said, “Spencer’s got his bitchface on but they haven’t actually said anything to each other.”
If there was one thing Ryan knew about Spencer Smith, it was that the expression Brendon was talking about wasn’t just an expression at all. It was Spencer, hip cocked, arms crossed, glaring pointedly at whoever had pissed him off. It was Spencer angry and bitchy and wanting the world to know it. Spencer could be a little bit of a bitch unprovoked, but never to that extent. This was personal.
“Brendon,” Ryan said, and he meant to sound stern but his tone ended up landing somewhere near complete horror. “Brendon, he doesn’t know, does he? He can’t know. Spencer can’t know.”
For a moment Brendon didn’t say anything and Ryan’s heart leapt up into his throat.
Ryan said, “Brendon,” needing a reply of some kind just so that he could start breathing again.
“I didn’t tell him!” Brendon finally blurted out, his voice jumping up an octave. “I swear to God, Ryan, I wouldn’t do that to you but he came over and he was really upset and I didn’t know what to say to him. He thought he did something wrong and I tried to tell him and so did Jon, you know, that you love him but you can’t and he didn’t get it and I let it slip that you were kind of seeing somebody and it was complicated and he asked who and then he figured it out on his own.”
“He couldn’t have figured it out on his own, Brendon,” Ryan said. “Don’t fucking lie to me about this, okay, don’t do it.”
“I’m not,” Brendon insisted. “He just. He remembered you mentioning Pete at dinner and then. I mean, you were always talking about some guy before you left town, remember? And I completely forgot his name and I thought Spencer did too but apparently not and it’s the same guy, right? The same Pete? Spence figured that out. He just. It’s Spencer, okay, he figures this shit out all the time.”
Ryan sucked in a breath through his teeth. “How much did he guess?”
Brendon paused. “Um. I don’t know. He asked if it was Pete and Jon and I couldn’t really say no. We’re not going to lie to Spencer’s face for you, Ryan. I’m not. We’ve been through too much together.”
For a moment, the anger over the whole situation gave way to a sharp sorrow. Once upon a time, Brendon would have done anything for Ryan. He would have lied, cheated, stole . . . anything. Ryan had known it and he’d never taken advantage because he’d had no reason to, but he’d loved that feeling, knowing that someone cared about him and admired him that much. And now it was sounding like Brendon would do anything for Spencer and Ryan could understand that, maybe. They’d probably gotten closer after he’d left and then with everything Brendon had gone through, Spencer would have been there. Of all the people they could have sent to convince Brendon to go home, it was Spencer that had hopped on a plane and come out here.
It had been a long time since Ryan had had any friends, but he hadn’t forgotten what true friendship looked and sounded and felt like and Brendon loved Spencer the same way he’d loved Ryan once. Ryan’s throat closed up and fuck, he was so pissed about everything. He was pissed off at himself and at fucking Pete and Brendon and Spencer. God he was so mad at Spencer. And then the anger shifted, turned into the kind of pain that had no name, cutting straight through Ryan’s body and rendering him breathless and immobile.
“Ryan,” Brendon said softly. “Ryan, are you. I mean. Shit. I’m sorry, okay? I’m so sorry.”
Ryan asked, “does he hate me?” in a small voice he didn’t even recognize.
“No,” Brendon said. “Fuck you, Ryan, give your best friend a little credit, okay? I don’t even think he knows about the other thing.”
Ryan swallowed and sat up, leaning back against his bed’s headboard. “Will you do me a favor?”
Brendon hesitated and then said with a quiet finality, “yeah.”
“Tell him for me. Please? Just. If I tell you what to say will you tell him for me?”
There was more of the same, café inspired white noise in the background and when Brendon spoke, Ryan thought he could hear a small smile in his voice. “Is this gonna be like that time we wrote a song together? Because if I remember correctly, that song was pretty shitty.”
Ryan said, “will you do it?”
This time Brendon didn’t even hesitate when he said yes.
_._
Ryan was getting used to seeing unexpected faces at his front door. He was still damp from his shower (he couldn’t stand to take a bath, couldn’t sit still that long and couldn’t possibly get clean enough) when he opened the door to the sight of Jon glaring up at him.
“You’re such an asshole, you know that?” Jon said.
He didn’t waltz in. He didn’t even look like he wanted to be invited in. Instead, he leaned against the doorjamb and crossed his arms, looking for all the world like he had no place better to be; for someone who was so much shorter than Ryan, he had an insanely huge presence and it was obvious that he was pissed. Ryan stared at him and then swallowed.
“Why?” he asked, because he had an idea but he wanted to hear it, needed to hear it.
“The next time you need somebody to do your dirty work for you, ask me, okay?” Jon said, which wasn’t an answer but Ryan didn’t push. “God, you’re really lucky Brendon and Spencer love you so much.”
Ryan winced a little and Jon’s face softened. He sighed and rubbed the back of his neck. “Hey, hey, I’m sorry, okay? Just. That was really hard on Brendon and he’s fine but if you do that again, I might have to punch you in the face.”
Ryan rubbed at his stomach where a warm feeling had bloomed (he was happy for Brendon, he realized, because the little bastard was so fucking lucky and he probably didn’t even realize it fully). “Okay,” he said simply.
Jon nodded and then pushed off of the doorpost, reaching out to push a lock of hair from Ryan’s forehead. “Now get ready, we’re going out.”
Ryan blinked.
“I’m serious,” Jon said. “You’ve got five minutes. After that, I’ll sic Brendon on you.”
_._
“Shopping!” Brendon said happily, and if there was a dent in his good mood he was doing his best not to show it. “Jon’s girlfriend has connections and sometimes we raid all the fancy-ass stores.”
Ryan felt awkward sitting next to Spencer in the car, but that feeling paled in comparison to the shock that must have shown on his face. He leaned over Spencer and looked at Brendon.
“Girlfriend?”
Brendon’s smile dipped and then returned full-force. “Yeah. Her name’s Cassie. She’s really nice.”
“And Brendon always lets her have shotgun,” Jon commented from the driver’s seat.
“Because,” Brendon said grandly, “I am a gentleman.”
Ryan blinked and when he caught Spencer’s eye, his own surprise was reflected there. Well. That explained a lot. Like how tentative Brendon was when it came to touching Jon. Not that anyone else could possibly tell because Brendon was still as tactile as ever with the other man, but there was definitely some amount of reservation there that Ryan had purposefully overlooked. What it did not explain was the way the two of them looked at each other and the way they tended to disappear into their own little world together without stopping to think about it.
Ryan felt something twinge painfully in his chest and realized maybe Brendon wasn’t as lucky as he’d thought. Then again, it wasn’t like Ryan was in a much better position. He glanced sideways at Spencer and then settled more comfortably (or as comfortably as he could possibly get) in the backseat.
Jon was a crazy driver but a good one by Chicago standards and they pulled up in front of the Italian restaurant Cassie worked at before Ryan had time to get himself too worked up. She didn’t leave them waiting long, bounding up to the car after a few short minutes, all smiles. She was pretty, petite and blonde and Brendon seemed to honestly like her, but the tension in his body told Ryan he was pretty conflicted about it. She gave Brendon a wide smile and he smiled back and that was that, except for how it wasn’t.
“Hey,” she said to Jon, sliding into the passenger seat.
Jon smiled at her. “Hey. So! This is Ryan and Spencer, Brendon’s friends from Vegas.”
Cassie twisted in her seat to shake hands with both of them. She really did have a nice smile and Ryan found himself liking her already, even though he wanted to hate her on principle alone.
“Nice to meet you guys,” she said. “Ready to go pirate some expensive stuff?”
“Always,” Brendon said.
She rested her hand on his knee and squeezed before turning around, and when Ryan turned to Brendon with raised eyebrows, the other boy actually blushed.
_._
The way Ryan had it figured by the end of the evening, Spencer didn’t hate him. It was hard to tell, but he was pretty sure that Spencer was avoiding him for reasons other than that. Then again, it was probably Brendon’s calm reassurance that kept Ryan from convincing himself that Spencer never wanted to speak to him again. At least Spencer had fun shopping. He loved shoes. Ryan had almost forgotten that about him, had forgotten about promising to take that particular secret to the grave (Spencer was pretty embarrassed to have such a girly obsession), but it all came rushing back when he saw the way Spencer’s eyes lit up whenever they got to that part of a store.
Ryan tried to catch his eye once, to smile and let Spencer know that he remembered, but Spencer refused to look at him unless it was absolutely necessary. It made Ryan feel awkward because Spencer very rarely gave anyone the silent treatment for more than five pointed minutes. He was the kind of guy who spoke his mind and Ryan kind of wished Spencer would just yell at him and be brutally honest. Ryan felt like he deserved that, felt like at least then they could move on.
After two hours of skirting around each other, Ryan was beginning to feel like he’d be stuck in this limbo of Not Talking About It forever. It was driving him crazy.
“Hey,” Brendon said, dropping into the chair next to Ryan.
Jon, Cassie and Spencer had disappeared somewhere with armfuls of clothes to try on. Usually Ryan would have been excited to join them but he was exhausted, mentally and physically, and he didn’t think he could take another minute of Spencer ignoring him while Jon worked hard to earn the title of Best Boyfriend Ever. It was just a little too much and when he glanced sideways at Brendon, Ryan realized he wasn’t the only one feeling that way.
“He hates me,” Ryan said without preamble.
“He does not,” Brendon said for the hundredth time. “He’s just. I don’t know. Processing? And pissed. He’s really pissed.”
The way Brendon said it made Ryan wince; knowing Spencer, he’d taken his frustration out on Brendon before calming himself down and Jon was right to have called Ryan an asshole. Ryan should have been the one to tell him. And Ryan should have held Spencer in a room until they talked it out. And . . . maybe Ryan should never have left Vegas in the first place, not if it meant losing the only chance he’d ever had at something truly great.
“I’m sorry,” Ryan told Brendon, looking over at him. “For making you tell him. That was shitty.”
Brendon shrugged. “I could’ve told you no,” he said, and maybe he was being honest and maybe not, but that didn’t matter. Ryan had been a coward and just the thought of it was still making him sick to his stomach.
He crossed his arms over his chest and looked down at his shoes. “I don’t even know what I’m doing here anymore,” he said.
Brendon tipped sideways and leaned his head tentatively against Ryan’s shoulder. “Me neither,” he said with a sigh. “But at least you stand a chance, you know? Spencer will forgive you. He probably already has. He’s Spencer.” Brendon said this like it explained everything and maybe for him it did but Ryan was feeling around in the dark here. He’d never had to do that with Spencer before, but everything had changed, leaving him disoriented and lost.
“Maybe,” Ryan whispered, not too confident in the fact.
Brendon nuzzled against his neck and when he pulled away, he was grinning again. “Hey, true love conquers all. Have faith.”
Ryan stared at him and could see the honest belief shining in Brendon’s eyes. “You watch way too much Disney,” Ryan told him with a small laugh.
Brendon shrugged and opened his mouth but whatever he was going to say was cut off by the reappearance of Jon and Spencer.
“Hey, B,” Jon called. “Come check these pants out. They’re ridiculous. Cassie thinks you’ll look good in them.”
“They’ll compliment your curves,” Spencer teased lightly, looking carefully at Brendon and not at Ryan, his gaze steady.
Ryan swallowed while Brendon stood up and followed Jon. Spencer didn’t move as they brushed past him but he didn’t look at Ryan either, not for a few long minutes.
“This maybe isn’t the best place for this conversation,” he finally said, and Ryan glanced around at their quiet surroundings.
The only witnesses to whatever they had to say would be the racks of clothing and size 0 mannequins a few feet away. It was as private as any public place could ever get but from the standpoint of having the conversation at all, Ryan wouldn’t have minded putting it off.
“Okay,” Ryan said, and then Spencer finally looked at him and the emotion in his eyes shot straight through Ryan’s body and hooked him to his seat.
“Why?” he asked. “I just. I don’t get why. You left Vegas, you left me, so you could come out here and fuck a complete stranger for a new wardrobe and a place to live and I need to know why.”
Ryan blinked up at him, Spencer’s hard tone laced underneath with something raw and desperate. “Spence,” he started, but Spencer shook his head.
“Just answer that, Ryan, okay? I don’t want any bullshit.”
Ryan bit down hard on the inside of his cheek, that horrible angerpain from earlier coming back in full-force. “What do you want to hear?” he finally demanded. “It didn’t happen like that, okay? It’s not like I planned this. I didn’t even expect it, it just happened.”
Spencer glared at him. “Shit like this doesn’t just happen. You don’t just wake up one day and realize you’re somebody’s fucking kept boy.”
“Oh yeah, because you have so much experience dealing with this exact situation, right Spencer?” Ryan said, rising to his feet and matching Spencer’s glare with one of his own.
“I know enough to know that somebody doesn’t pay you for sex without you knowing it’s coming,” Spencer shot back, and the words cut Ryan just as much as his cruel tone did.
“Fuck you,” Ryan hissed. “Is that what you think of me? That I’m just a whore?”
Spencer cringed at the sound of the word on Ryan’s tongue and Ryan was getting tired of that response. Maybe he was just a whore and maybe it was time people started accepting the fact.
“I don’t know!” Spencer said helplessly. “Just fucking explain it to me, since I apparently don’t get it.”
“He takes care of me. He takes care of me and in return, I fuck him whenever he wants, however he wants, no questions asked,” Ryan said as baldly as he could manage even as the words burned like bile at the back of his throat.
“Yeah?” Spencer said, his face flushed and his eyes wide. “And how’s that working out for you? You like it?”
Ryan didn’t say anything because if he told the truth Spencer would know how much he hated it, how much he wanted out and he couldn’t lie.
“Do you like it?” Spencer asked again, the tenor of his voice rising. “Just tell me. Do you like the fact that this guy practically fucking owns you? Is that what you want? Is that what you were hoping for when you ran away?”
Ryan opened and closed his mouth and when he finally answered, the word fell past his lips, weak and shuddering.
“No.”
They stared at each other in the following silence and then Ryan bowed his head, feeling like he was ten-years-old all over again, explaining about bruises and the science of fighting back and ‘it’s complicated, Spencer, okay?’
“This isn’t what I wanted,” he said, and this time he sounded more sure of himself. “This isn’t what I want.”
Spencer sucked in a breath but he didn’t say anything. Ryan looked up at him and the question was clear in Spencer’s eyes, asking Ryan what he did want, if it wasn’t what he currently had. Ryan swallowed back his answer, the truth with the lies, and ducked his head. When he looked up again, Spencer was gone.
_._
Brendon tracked Ryan down after that, eyebrows raised.
“Did you guys talk?” he asked, voice hushed.
Ryan shrugged. “I guess. I don’t really think we resolved our issues, though.”
Brendon had the audacity to laugh. “Well, I don’t think any of us were expecting miracles here.”
When he caught Ryan’s eye, Ryan couldn’t bite back a smile of his own, amused despite the way he ached all over.
After another hour of shopping during which Brendon attached himself to Ryan like a limpet and Spencer was intently, evenly cheerful, they piled into Jon’s car and went out for hotdogs. They managed to have a pretty good time. Or at least, Ryan watched as the other four made pointless jokes and threw fries at each other. Ryan kept mostly to himself, mindful of every time Spencer didn’t address him, didn’t so much as acknowledge him. It definitely wasn’t the most enjoyable evening Ryan had ever experienced, but he had to wonder if being home alone, wretched and guilty, would have been any better.
They dropped Ryan off first and he almost didn’t get out of the car. There was a part of him that wanted to cling to his seat or to Brendon and not have to go back into that empty apartment. He liked it here even if it was awkward and painful because these people, they treated him like he was human. To them he was just Ryan and yeah, he slept with somebody to keep a roof over his head but they didn’t judge him for it. And then Ryan glanced over at Spencer who was staring at him, lip curled in something that was probably disappointment, and he felt his stomach ice over.
They all exchanged goodbyes, Spencer looking away and staying stubbornly quiet, and when Ryan made his way inside he was cold all over, every step measured and unsteady. He stopped in front of his apartment door, stared at its blank face, at the cold number hammered to the top.
The first time he’d ever seen this place, Ryan had already been lost. He knew that now. Pete had already made it clear what they were to each other. Pete was a businessman, savvy and charismatic and rich. Ryan was a boy who had run away from an abusive father and his two best friends, leaving the staid suburbia and shining lights of Vegas behind. Pete was the caretaker and Ryan was the one who needed him and as long as Ryan did as he was told, everything would be fine.
Pete had never said the words, not after that first night anyway. But Ryan could remember the way they’d sounded before and after. Before, Pete had held Ryan in the front seat of his car while Ryan cried. Before, Pete had said, “shhhh, it’ll be okay, I promise. I’m not gonna let anything bad happen to you again, okay?” Before, Pete had given an honest shit, or at least pretended better. After . . . after there was nothing. Silent promises sealed in bruises the shape of fingertips on Ryan’s too-thin hips that meant nothing. Sex that was rough and hurried and frantic that meant nothing. After, Pete said, “shhhh, do as I say and it’ll be okay, I promise,” without once parting his lips.
Pete Wentz was a goddamn fucking liar.
Ryan bit his lip and fumbled in his pocket for his keys, a breakdown pressing hard at his skull in a way that hadn’t happened in years, not since he’d been an hour into a plane ride to Chicago with no future and a past he wanted desperately to forget. It felt like it had back then, like a freefall straight down into an abyss that had no bottom. The keys fell from Ryan’s suddenly numb fingers and he inhaled sharply and leaned his head forward against the door.
Breathe, he told himself. Just breathe. At least get inside your fucking apartment, jesus.
But he couldn’t move, didn’t want to, and his chest hurt whenever he tried to fill his lungs with air and he was panicking, he could feel it, when all of a sudden there were arms around him from behind, strong and steadying.
“You are such an idiot,” Spencer breathed against the back of his neck.
Ryan exhaled shakily and nodded, the smooth wood of the door slipping against his forehead.
“I love you anyway,” Spencer told him and Ryan could see the other boy’s blush in his mind’s eye, could practically feel it warming him all the way through, or maybe that was just the way it felt to hear the words. Ryan didn’t know. He didn’t want to look. He was afraid that if he opened his eyes, this would be a hallucination.
Spencer melted away anyway, letting go of Ryan and taking a step back and Ryan was so scared for a split second that he really had imagined it that he almost screamed right there, exploding in hysterics in the hallway of his fancy apartment building. But a hand closed around the back of his knee and when Ryan peeked, he saw Spencer kneeling to pick up the dropped set of keys.
“Here,” he said, holding them out. “I don’t think I can guess which one it is.”
Ryan took the keys, found the right one with fingers that were still shaking, and managed to open the door. They made their way inside, Spencer watching Ryan carefully but keeping his hands to himself. Ryan closed the door behind them and then turned with a sigh.
“Spence,” he started, but Spencer just shook his head.
“Don’t. Don’t apologize and don’t. Just don’t.” Ryan blinked and Spencer took a step forward, pinning him to the door with his body and it was just like before but not because Spencer knew now, knew all the reasons why not (all of the reasons that outweighed the why), and he was still there.
Spencer said, “just let me,” and reached out to brush a thumb over Ryan’s lips and Ryan shuddered. “Will you?” Spencer asked, voice barely above a whisper.
“Yes,” Ryan answered without needing to think about it. “Yes, please, just. Yes.”
Neither of them moved for the longest three seconds of Ryan’s life; they stood there, still and waiting, waiting, their breath mingling in the small space between them, eyes searching eyes for answers they’d had all along. When Spencer dipped his head forward, Ryan didn’t do anything more than let his eyes slip closed, permission for Spencer to do what he wanted, to take his time. There was a gusty exhale across Ryan’s mouth and then Spencer’s tongue was tracing over his lips, running over the thin lines of the upper and the curve of the lower. He pulled away, briefly, and then he was there again, a light kiss, a flicker of tongue.
Ryan’s breath was sharp in his chest, a zap when he gasped, like the barest touches of their lips had built up in the air, static electricity. Spencer just kept the kisses light, teasing and exploratory and when he finally, finally pressed his lips firmly to Ryan’s he still took his time. He licked into Ryan’s mouth, languid and deliberate, tracing over the roof of his mouth and Ryan’s tongue until Ryan groaned and clutched at him and kissed him back.
Spencer made the sweetest noises in his throat when Ryan ran his tongue over the ridges of his palate, and he tasted sugary, like the orange soda he’d been drinking earlier. It was addictive and hot and intoxicating. Ryan pulled Spencer hard against his body and wrapped one arm tight around Spencer’s waist, angled the other around the back of Spencer’s neck, keeping the pressure light but insistent. Spencer groaned into Ryan’s mouth and sucked at Ryan’s tongue, smiling when Ryan shivered against him. Ryan smiled back, tugging at Spencer’s bottom lip with his teeth in retaliation and slipping one hand under the hem of Spencer’s shirt.
“Hey,” Spencer whispered, pulling away from the kiss and nosing along Ryan’s jaw. “We don’t have to. That’s not why I came back. This is fine. Just this.”
Ryan scraped his nails over the bare skin at the small of Spencer’s back and thought about that, about what Spencer was offering and what he was saying. It was a little difficult with the way Spencer was feathering kisses across his cheek, tongue dipping out to lick over the shell of Ryan’s ear but Ryan managed to grasp the enormity of it. It’s not like that, Ryan thought as loudly as he could, shifting his body so that his half-hard cock brushed Spencer’s hip. Not with you, I know it’s not like that.
“I want this, anything,” Ryan said, his voice low and hoarse even to his own ears. “I want you.”
Spencer moaned directly into Ryan’s ear. “You sure?” he asked, lips moving to the skin high on his throat.
“Yeah,” Ryan breathed, running one hand through Spencer’s hair.
“Will you fuck me?” The words were muffled by Ryan’s skin but they were still audible and Ryan’s hips bucked into Spencer’s. “I want you to,” Spencer said, pulling away so that Ryan could see the sincerity of the statement in the set of his mouth, the need and desire practically glowing in his eyes.
Ryan pressed a kiss to Spencer’s lips and nodded. Spencer licked at the dip of Ryan’s upper lip and said, “okay.”
They shared a small, nervous smile and it was a miracle that Ryan was nervous at all. Sex had been an automatic thing for him for so long that other than what his body got out of it, Ryan hadn’t experienced much. No nerves, no butterflies, no anticipation, nothing. His stomach was doing flips, though, his heart beating way too fast. Spencer’s smile grew when Ryan pulled him close and he was so fucking beautiful and Ryan had to have noticed, he knew he’d noticed, but it hit him like a punch to the gut anyway.
Ryan found himself smiling back, wide and happy, and then nudged at Spencer’s hip.
“Come on,” he said, walking him slowly backward.
They made their way through the apartment in the dark, fumbling along walls and stopping every few steps to exchange heated kisses or pull impatiently at clothing. Spencer dropped his shirt in the hallway and Ryan pushed him against the wall a few feet away from the bedroom, leaning down to kiss over his throat and a lick a path down to one nipple. Spencer gasped and arched up into the wet touch of Ryan’s mouth.
“Bed,” Spencer said breathlessly when Ryan’s lips moved further south. “Bed would be good.”
“What if I wanted to blow you right here?” Ryan asked, the words hot against Spencer’s skin. “Would you let me?”
Spencer made a small sound and then buried a hand in Ryan’s hair and pulled until Ryan looked up at him. There was the barest amount of light in the hallway filtering out from the bathroom a few feet away but it was enough for Ryan to be able to see the look in Spencer’s eyes, warm and inviting.
“You promised to fuck me,” Spencer reminded him, but he was smirking just a little which meant he wasn’t saying no.
Ryan hooked his fingers in the waistband of Spencer’s jeans and raised his eyebrows. “I will,” he said. “I just want to do this for you first.”
Spencer just watched as Ryan unbuttoned his jeans and slid the zipper down. They were silent, the only sounds in the space between them their heavy breaths and rustles of fabric when Ryan pulled Spencer’s pants and underwear off. Ryan kept his eyes locked on Spencer’s and leaned forward, wrapping one hand around the base of Spencer’s cock and licking lightly over the tip. Spencer’s breath hitched but he didn’t move an inch and Ryan finally let his eyes slide shut and slipped his mouth over the head.
This was something Ryan knew he was good at but that he hadn’t given to Pete freely since moving into his own place. There was no reason in particular, it just wasn’t something Ryan felt like he wanted to do for Pete. Ryan loved this, loved the power he had when he was on his knees in front of someone, loved the kind of pleasure he could give. It was special to Ryan and maybe that was ass-backwards and fucked up but in all of the times that Pete had taken and taken and taken, Ryan had kept this for himself because it was all he really had in his power to give freely.
Being on his knees for Spencer, Spencer’s cock hot and hard in his mouth, was exhilarating and liberating and for once, Ryan didn’t want to be anywhere else.
“Ryan,” Spencer whispered when Ryan slid down and sucked slowly up. “Fuck.”
His hand tightened in Ryan’s hair like he needed something to hang on to and Ryan moaned at him in encouragement; the vibrations elicited a full-body shudder from Spencer and Ryan could hear the other boy’s breath escape his chest in a whoosh. Ryan kept his rhythm slow, alternating between soft and hard sucks, sliding down until the tip of Spencer’s cock tapped the back of his throat and then sucking up until only the head was in his mouth.
It was getting a little sloppy, Ryan’s jaw beginning to ache in a delicious way, his mouth tingling with the taste and feel of Spencer’s dick, when Spencer’s hips bucked. Ryan managed not to choke, relaxing his throat and resting his forearm across Spencer’s hips to keep him in place. Spencer groaned and Ryan glanced up his body, over his flushed chest and neck, to where his head was thrown back. Spencer’s jaw was tight, his breathing hard, and Ryan didn’t need to be a genius to figure out he was close.
Ryan pulled up, sucking at just the head, and when Spencer pulled at his hair and gasped a warning, Ryan didn’t move. Spencer came with a shout, release splashing hot against Ryan’s tongue and the roof of his mouth, salty and bitter. Ryan worked Spencer through the aftershocks and then pulled off, dragging his knuckles across his messy mouth and swallowing at the same time. When he glanced up, Spencer was staring down at him, expression unreadable.
“What?” Ryan asked, a little unsure in the split second before Spencer sank to his knees and crushed their lips together.
They fell back against the floor, Spencer’s tongue chasing the traces of himself from Ryan’s mouth, his hand moving restlessly from Ryan’s ribs to his hips and back up again. Ryan groaned and held Spencer close, bucking his hips up. He was painfully hard against Spencer’s hip and needed release so bad he wasn’t sure he could make it another five minutes, let alone all the way to the bedroom. Spencer made up Ryan’s mind for him, sliding his hand down over the flat planes of Ryan’s stomach. Ryan whimpered into the kiss when Spencer made quick work of the fastenings of his jeans and closed a hand around his cock.
Spencer picked up a torturous rhythm quickly; his grip was tight and fucking perfect and Ryan found himself thrusting into the circle of his fist within seconds. The kiss got rough, all teeth and hard press of lips, and Ryan was close, so close already. He nipped at Spencer’s lip and clung to his shoulders, feeling the orgasm building fast low in his body.
Ryan groaned into Spencer’s mouth, “I’m close.”
Spencer licked lazily into Ryan’s mouth and said, “come on, come for me.”
And Ryan did, his body arching off of the floor, lips parting on a silent cry. Spencer kissed his throat and his chest, stroked Ryan’s cock through it and then dropped a kiss on Ryan’s lips when he fell back to the floor, pliant and panting.
“Holy shit,” he said.
Spencer dropped onto his side next to Ryan and snorted. “Yeah, no kidding,” he said.
“I’m all sticky now,” Ryan said and he could practically feel Spencer roll his eyes.
“So take a bath,” Spencer said, voice laced with amusement.
“Mmmm,” Ryan murmured, curling around Spencer right there in the hallway. “In a minute.”
Spencer stroked the skin at the back of Ryan’s neck. “Okay.”
Neither of them moved except to settle more heavily against each other.
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