You're Killing Me [1/5]
Title: You're Killing Me [1/5]
Author: meiloslyther
Rating: R
Pairing: Rydon
POV: 3rd, omniscient
Summary: Ryan and Brendon take a shower together, but it doesn't end pretty.
Word Count: 1,175 [this part]; 7,121 [total]
Disclaimer: Not my boys. Don't Google yourselves, kids.
Beta: A good friend who wishes to remain unnamed.
Author Notes: "...but I think Rydon would kill each other if they actually dated."
Part 2 : Part 3 : Part 4 : Part 5
Ryan's carefully styled hair began to fall in his face as the night wore on, the sweat glistening off of every inch of skin he allowed to be seen, which wasn't a whole lot. His intricate eye makeup was beginning to wear off, and his fingers were almost raw from nearly three hours straight of playing the guitar.
Running the back of a shaky hand across his sweaty upper lip, he looked over at Brendon as he started up their last song of the night on the piano. Brendon was drenched as much, if not more so than Ryan; after running around the stage, screaming out lyrics at the top of his lungs, and showing off his moves with their dancers, he should have been.
Afterwards, the four trudged off the stage and back to the dressing room where Spencer was first to call dibs on the shower. Poor kid looked like he needed it; the drums were a pretty physically demanding instrument, and Spencer wasn't a wuss when it came to his beloved drums.
"Dude, I reek. I call the shower next," Jon complained, flopping down on the couch.
"You didn't even break a fucking sweat," Brendon replied, wiping a thumb across Jon's perfectly dry forehead before collapsing next to him. "I bet you smell better than me."
"I know I smell better than you, Brendon," Ryan bragged, leaning over to look for something to drink in the tiny fridge.
"Yeah right. You look like you just ran a mile."
"No, really," Ryan argued, plopping down on the other side of Brendon, a bottle of water in hand. "I've got this vanilla deodorant that's like... the best shit ever. Seriously, smell me."
Skeptical, Brendon leaned over and stuck his nose in Ryan's armpit. "You actually smell really good... Dude, you smell like a girl."
"It's a girl's deodorant."
"What the fuck, Ryan? People think you're gay enough without them knowing you wear girl's deodorant," Jon quipped, jumping up from the couch when Spencer returned, his hair still wet and slick.
"Fuck you, Jon!" Ryan yelled after him, laughing.
"Well, at least he smells like a man," Brendon muttered, earning himself a swift punch in the shoulder. "Ow."
"I don't even WANT to know. You guys do know you can go back to the hotel to get a shower, right?"
"It's such a long walk though. I'm already tired," Brendon whined, giving his best pouty face.
Ryan shook his head at the second youngest member of the band and pulled him up off the couch as he stood. "Come on, I'll go with you. You can call it first."
"I guess I'll wait here for Jon then," Spencer called after them uselessly, replacing them on the couch as they walked out.
The air between the two was charged with an indescribable intensity as they walked back to their hotel, but the silence between them was comfortable and understood. It was how it had always been with them; they were like two magnets with an unnatural combination of attraction and repulsion towards the other.
They parted at Brendon's door, which was the first on the hallway, and Ryan took the few extra steps to his own. However, even though they had their own rooms, they joined at the most crucial part; the bathroom.
Ryan slowly stripped down to his underwear before trudging into the bathroom where he came face to face with Brendon, also clad in only his underwear.
"Didn't you say I could call it first?"
"Why waste the water?" Ryan shrugged, dropping his last article of clothing without any thought. "Besides, the shower's big enough for two," he added, going over to the stall and turning on the water.
Brendon hesitated.
"Oh, come on. Like you've never taken a shower with me, shit."
Brendon conceded, grinning as he dropped his boxers as well and followed his elder into the shower stall. He remembered the last time they had been in this situation VERY well.
"Nothing funny this time, Urie, I'm warning you," Ryan scolded, seeing the smug look on Brendon's face.
Brendon's smile widened and he stuck his nose in rather hazardous proximity to Ryan's ear. "What, baby, you don't want any of this? That's not what you said last night."
Ryan elbowed him away as he grabbed the shampoo, laughing in spite of himself. "I was pretty damn sure YOU were the one begging for it all night long," he countered, beginning to scrub the grease and sweat from his hair. "'Oh, fuck, Ryan, give it to me! Your dick's so big and hard and I want it all inside of me!'"
Brendon cracked up at the lame impression of himself, nearly getting shampoo in his eyes. "As if. I believe it was more like, 'Oh Brendon, fuck me harder! Faster, Brenny, faster!'"
"You just wish it was like that."
"You just wish I would fuck you."
They stared at each other then, smiles and laughter long gone, the water slowly rinsing the soap from their hair and drumming a suddenly thundering staccato against the tile floor.
"If anyone was wishing to get fucked by someone, it'd be you, Brendon," Ryan whispered dangerously, looming over the younger of the two with what little height he had on him. "It'd be you wishing I was fucking you. Hard and mercilessly, in any place, any position your depraved little mind could think of."
Brendon found himself backed against the corner of the stall by then, but the glare in his eyes betrayed the fear he felt. His heart pounded even faster as Ryan placed his hands on the wall on either side of his shoulders, effectively pinning him in place without even touching him.
"The last time we were in this position, I only LET you suck me off because I knew you'd like it. And you'd like it if I fucked you, wouldn't you?" Ryan continued, taking advantage of Brendon's perpetual silence. "You'd love it. You'd take every last inch like a good little slut and you'd LOVE it."
Setting his jaw, Brendon stood up as straight as he could. "I'm sorry, but I'd never take it from a GIRL."
As if he were watching a movie, Brendon saw Ryan's hand retract back and knock him square in the nose before he even felt it, his head whipping back with the momentum to smack against the tile.
"Oh, shit," Brendon muttered, hands instinctively going up to hold his face as he collapsed against the wall. In a daze, he watched as Ryan stepped back to finish with his shower.
"You all right, Bren?" Ryan finally asked. "Get washed up and come in my room when you're done, I'll take a look at that for you," he finished when he got no answer.
Brendon waited for Ryan to leave the bathroom before sliding down to sit on the floor, still covering his throbbing nose with one hand.
What the fuck just happened?
Author: meiloslyther
Rating: R
Pairing: Rydon
POV: 3rd, omniscient
Summary: Ryan and Brendon take a shower together, but it doesn't end pretty.
Word Count: 1,175 [this part]; 7,121 [total]
Disclaimer: Not my boys. Don't Google yourselves, kids.
Beta: A good friend who wishes to remain unnamed.
Author Notes: "...but I think Rydon would kill each other if they actually dated."
Part 2 : Part 3 : Part 4 : Part 5
Ryan's carefully styled hair began to fall in his face as the night wore on, the sweat glistening off of every inch of skin he allowed to be seen, which wasn't a whole lot. His intricate eye makeup was beginning to wear off, and his fingers were almost raw from nearly three hours straight of playing the guitar.
Running the back of a shaky hand across his sweaty upper lip, he looked over at Brendon as he started up their last song of the night on the piano. Brendon was drenched as much, if not more so than Ryan; after running around the stage, screaming out lyrics at the top of his lungs, and showing off his moves with their dancers, he should have been.
Afterwards, the four trudged off the stage and back to the dressing room where Spencer was first to call dibs on the shower. Poor kid looked like he needed it; the drums were a pretty physically demanding instrument, and Spencer wasn't a wuss when it came to his beloved drums.
"Dude, I reek. I call the shower next," Jon complained, flopping down on the couch.
"You didn't even break a fucking sweat," Brendon replied, wiping a thumb across Jon's perfectly dry forehead before collapsing next to him. "I bet you smell better than me."
"I know I smell better than you, Brendon," Ryan bragged, leaning over to look for something to drink in the tiny fridge.
"Yeah right. You look like you just ran a mile."
"No, really," Ryan argued, plopping down on the other side of Brendon, a bottle of water in hand. "I've got this vanilla deodorant that's like... the best shit ever. Seriously, smell me."
Skeptical, Brendon leaned over and stuck his nose in Ryan's armpit. "You actually smell really good... Dude, you smell like a girl."
"It's a girl's deodorant."
"What the fuck, Ryan? People think you're gay enough without them knowing you wear girl's deodorant," Jon quipped, jumping up from the couch when Spencer returned, his hair still wet and slick.
"Fuck you, Jon!" Ryan yelled after him, laughing.
"Well, at least he smells like a man," Brendon muttered, earning himself a swift punch in the shoulder. "Ow."
"I don't even WANT to know. You guys do know you can go back to the hotel to get a shower, right?"
"It's such a long walk though. I'm already tired," Brendon whined, giving his best pouty face.
Ryan shook his head at the second youngest member of the band and pulled him up off the couch as he stood. "Come on, I'll go with you. You can call it first."
"I guess I'll wait here for Jon then," Spencer called after them uselessly, replacing them on the couch as they walked out.
The air between the two was charged with an indescribable intensity as they walked back to their hotel, but the silence between them was comfortable and understood. It was how it had always been with them; they were like two magnets with an unnatural combination of attraction and repulsion towards the other.
They parted at Brendon's door, which was the first on the hallway, and Ryan took the few extra steps to his own. However, even though they had their own rooms, they joined at the most crucial part; the bathroom.
Ryan slowly stripped down to his underwear before trudging into the bathroom where he came face to face with Brendon, also clad in only his underwear.
"Didn't you say I could call it first?"
"Why waste the water?" Ryan shrugged, dropping his last article of clothing without any thought. "Besides, the shower's big enough for two," he added, going over to the stall and turning on the water.
Brendon hesitated.
"Oh, come on. Like you've never taken a shower with me, shit."
Brendon conceded, grinning as he dropped his boxers as well and followed his elder into the shower stall. He remembered the last time they had been in this situation VERY well.
"Nothing funny this time, Urie, I'm warning you," Ryan scolded, seeing the smug look on Brendon's face.
Brendon's smile widened and he stuck his nose in rather hazardous proximity to Ryan's ear. "What, baby, you don't want any of this? That's not what you said last night."
Ryan elbowed him away as he grabbed the shampoo, laughing in spite of himself. "I was pretty damn sure YOU were the one begging for it all night long," he countered, beginning to scrub the grease and sweat from his hair. "'Oh, fuck, Ryan, give it to me! Your dick's so big and hard and I want it all inside of me!'"
Brendon cracked up at the lame impression of himself, nearly getting shampoo in his eyes. "As if. I believe it was more like, 'Oh Brendon, fuck me harder! Faster, Brenny, faster!'"
"You just wish it was like that."
"You just wish I would fuck you."
They stared at each other then, smiles and laughter long gone, the water slowly rinsing the soap from their hair and drumming a suddenly thundering staccato against the tile floor.
"If anyone was wishing to get fucked by someone, it'd be you, Brendon," Ryan whispered dangerously, looming over the younger of the two with what little height he had on him. "It'd be you wishing I was fucking you. Hard and mercilessly, in any place, any position your depraved little mind could think of."
Brendon found himself backed against the corner of the stall by then, but the glare in his eyes betrayed the fear he felt. His heart pounded even faster as Ryan placed his hands on the wall on either side of his shoulders, effectively pinning him in place without even touching him.
"The last time we were in this position, I only LET you suck me off because I knew you'd like it. And you'd like it if I fucked you, wouldn't you?" Ryan continued, taking advantage of Brendon's perpetual silence. "You'd love it. You'd take every last inch like a good little slut and you'd LOVE it."
Setting his jaw, Brendon stood up as straight as he could. "I'm sorry, but I'd never take it from a GIRL."
As if he were watching a movie, Brendon saw Ryan's hand retract back and knock him square in the nose before he even felt it, his head whipping back with the momentum to smack against the tile.
"Oh, shit," Brendon muttered, hands instinctively going up to hold his face as he collapsed against the wall. In a daze, he watched as Ryan stepped back to finish with his shower.
"You all right, Bren?" Ryan finally asked. "Get washed up and come in my room when you're done, I'll take a look at that for you," he finished when he got no answer.
Brendon waited for Ryan to leave the bathroom before sliding down to sit on the floor, still covering his throbbing nose with one hand.
What the fuck just happened?