Saturday, February 7, 2009

slash
When Spencer and Jon get back, Brendon is standing in the middle of the living room completely naked. He channel surfs with the remote in one hand, eyeing the tv while drinking juice straight from the bottle of juice in the other.
"What if we wanted some of that?" Jon asks, closing the door behind him.
Brendon says, "Sorry," gasping as he lowers the bottle, and doesn't sound like he means it. He tosses the remote on the couch.
"Where's Ryan?" Spencer asks, looking around.
Brendon pouts. "He sucks. Just rolled over and fell asleep after he got off. I was gonna make us sandwiches, too. It would have been awesome. He would've fallen in love with me and everything, I promise you."
Jon laughs and says he's going to go wake Ryan up, which means he's probably going to go into the room and lie down with him. Jon means well, but they all know he's a lot more easily distracted by an opportunity for cuddling than he admits out loud.
Spencer drops his keys on the end table, coming over to where Brendon stands. He pushes him out of the way -- a hand on his back -- to put them into the little bowls they have for house keys.
"And you just, what, object to putting clothes back on?"
"What?" Brendon says, looking down at himself like he hadn't realized that he's missing, like, the entirety of his outfit until just then. "Dude, I'm hot. You say that like it isn't something you should thank me for."
Spencer laughs, but Brendon sets down the juice, turning around against Spencer's hand. Suddenly Spencer's touching his side, his stomach, fingertips light on Brendon's skin, and he just tilts his head when Brendon leans in to kiss his neck. Brendon sucks on the skin there, but not quite long enough to bruise, and mutters, "Spencer, Ryan fell asleep on me."
"So I heard," Spencer says, and he sucks in his stomach a little as Brendon goes for his pants, the anticipation buzzing in him already. Brendon, Brendon, Brendon. He had just let Spencer fuck him in the shower that morning, and only hours later, Spencer's anxious for him again.
Brendon breathes, "yeah," and kisses Spencer as he makes his way across the curve of Spencer's jaw and to his mouth. It isn't lewd, just the quick slide of lips, and then, "I've got an idea," he says, smiling, "you might want to sit for it."
Spencer rolls his eyes. It's just habit now when dealing with Brendon, but he moves over enough to sit down on the couch and lie back, propped on his elbows so he can see. He lifts his hips enough for Brendon to pull down his pants, and Spencer still loves the way it looks, Brendon ducking forward to take his cock, tongue tasting the head before going down on him. Spencer closes his eyes and drops his head to the side. He has to remember to tease Ryan about how much he missed out on later. And thank him. He may have to thank him, too.
two
splash
Jon doesn't suggest they go swimming so much as he chases Spencer around the house with a threatening spray can of whipped cream -- from the kitchen, through each bedroom (where Ryan and Brendon ignore the commotion as they come across them) in the house, back through the living room and out of the sliding patio doors -- into the backyard, and pushes him into the pool when Spencer accidentally gets close to the deep end. As the water closes in over him, he thinks briefly of the ice cream bowls they left behind, and then thinks, wow, it might be kind of sad that he has to kill Jon Walker now. He had mostly been a good guy until this moment.
Spencer's only wearing the clothes he slept in, but it's the principle behind sending a man under. The fact that only his t-shirt and shorts get soaked isn't the issue here. Revenge is basically an obligation, and Spencer doesn't shy away from duty.
He wipes at his eyes once he comes up for air. When he can see again, Jon's grinning, self-satisifed, with the spray can still held loosely at his side. Spencer smiles back carefully and casually makes his way to the edge of the pool.
"Refreshing?" Jon asks as Spencer nears. Spencer nods, and Jon says, "no, oh, no," as Spencer reaches for him, inching back, but Spencer's quicker and grabs his ankles. He tugs forward, Jon losing his balance. Jon dives forward into the water, dropping the spray can before too late, and Spencer ducks to the side to avoid getting hit, laughing as Jon goes down.
He's already starting to move away from Jon as he comes up, saying, "Drowned rat is a good look for you," and Jon splashes water in the direction of Spencer's voice before he can actually see him. Once his eyes are open, he swims after Spencer, and they have out a miniature battle in the pool for several minutes.
They go back and forth, trying to strong-arm one another until Spencer manages to get behind Jon and force his head underwater. He holds him there until Jon squirms away, moving between Spencer's legs and then lifting him on Jon's shoulders. Spencer shouts and laughs, and then Jon tips them backward, the water rushing over Spencer again as he falls back. Jon heads for the shallow end. He tries to get away, getting out of the pool, but Spencer catches him before he can get the sliding door into the house open. He pulls Jon back and they fall backwards into the water another time, Spencer imagining the splashes that must spill over the edges of the pool and cover the ground.
He breaks the surface of the water and swims until his feet can touch the bottom, wading. Spencer takes off his shirt and tosses it, wet fabric smacking on the ground. Jon comes up a moment later, splashing still, and Spencer finally calls, "okay, white flag! You win, fuck!" in between each face-full of water.
"Of course I win," Jon says.
"Whatever," Spencer says, sending a small splash of water at Jon. It's not enough to cause any real retaliation, though, and Jon moves forward, Spencer turning his head as he goes to kiss him.
Spencer says, "Denied. You pushed me in the pool," amused when Jon groans, but he obliges once Jon touches his face and turns it toward him again, mouth damp when they connect.
Jon bends enough to touch Spencer's thigh, lift his leg, and push their hips together. Spencer's breath stutters, and he lifts the other leg, leaning into the side wall for leverage and thrusting forward. Jon slides his hand from Spencer's thigh and sneaks it into Spencer's shorts, touching his ass, hitching him even closer. Spencer curses under his breath between kisses, licking his lips, and he feels Jon smile into the next one.
Against Jon's mouth, Spencer mutters, "I could take you right now. You're so busy trying to fuck me," and Jon thrusts roughly. "Could turn this whole thing around -- dunk your head and then I'd win."
Jon chuckles. "Nope. Because you're wrong. I'm thinking about getting your shorts off right now. Then maybe I'll be busy trying to fuck you."
"Maybe?"
Spencer laughs, shaking his head. He pushes on Jon's chest until Jon lets him go, stepping back enough to let Spencer get his shorts off and tosses them over his head with the shirt. Jon touches his dick, strokes Spencer lazily before encouraging him to raise his legs again. Spencer bites down on his lip and shuts his eyes when Jon pushes in, the stretch more intense without preparation first, but being in the water helps, makes it different. Jon goes slower until Spencer tells him to speed up, move deeper, pushing back each time Jon thrusts.
Spencer hears the patio door slide, eyes opening again at the sound, and he almost forgot they were doing this outside.
"Hey, you guys," Ryan says somewhere behind him. "Me and Brendon are gonna find a hardware store. He's breaking shit already."
"All I did was open the cabinet, and it fell apa -- hey," and that's Brendon's voice. "That's what you were chasing him down for?"
"Did you guys want us to stop somewhere while we're out, or -- are you good?" Ryan asks. He walks toward the edge of the pool, crouching next to Spencer's head. Spencer tips his head back to look up at him and moans, Jon still fucking him. Ryan smirks.
Brendon says, "They look like they're doing alright to me," and Jon laughs a little. When Spencer shifts his attention to the other side, Brendon's eating one of the bowls of ice cream. He looks up and notices, "Ooh, whipped cream," before wandering away.
"Ryan," Spencer breathes, eyes shutting against the light again. He feels Ryan touch his wet hair, scratching his fingers through it .
"We'll be right back," Ryan says, and then stands. "Brendon, come on."
"Mm, okay, just let me finish this real fast. Here, hold this," Brendon says. Louder, he asks, "Spencer, no, I'm serious. Did he really have to chase you?"
Spencer grits out, "Fuck off, Brendon," and he's so close -- so close if Jon keeps pushing up just like that, and Brendon can shut the hell up.
Ryan must pull Brendon along, because Spencer hears the patio door slide shut a moment later, Brendon's laugh disappearing. Spencer moves his hips as much as he can, trying to fuck himself on Jon's cock. He says, "Can you go harder?" and Jon does, reaching to fist Spencer's dick at the same time. He fucks Spencer even as he comes, thrusting through it, slowing but still pushing, and Jon follows a minute later, Spencer squeezing around him and smiling at how Jon drops his head forward.
He pulls out, and Spencer rebalances himself. Jon steps closer, rest his face on Spencer's collar, the damp curve between neck and shoulder, and says, "I like winning."
"That wasn't a reward." Spencer's laugh is a short burst, more surprise than anything.
Jon raises his head, smiling. "Huh? Oh, you thought it wasn't?"
three
scissor
They're halfway finished with the song when Jon says, "The best part is how the fairytale prince looks like a mountain man," and Brendon's mouth drops open, lyrics forgotten.
He asks, "Is there something you want to say to me, Jon Walker?"
Jon just shakes his head, shrugging. Ryan looks around the room at each of them and touches his own face. It's kind of true. A few weeks away from the rest of commercial America shifts your priorities. Things are different near the lake. ("The old country," Brendon calls it everyday, even though they keep telling him that's incorrect. Still, every morning, it's "today in the old country, we're going to climb trees" or something equally silly.) Shaving is even less important. It doesn't matter if their hair is always in their eyes. Hoodies and track pants are basically all-purpose. Anyway, they kept sticking out when they walked down the hill to get milk and more toilet paper in their skinny jeans.
Spencer's the only one who even knows what a pair of hair scissors looks like anymore, his hair still short. He sets down his drumsticks and asks, "That's what I've been trying to tell you for the past week. Do you want me to cut your hair? I can cut it."
And somehow that turns into the event of the evening, mostly because after they leave the instruments alone for the day, Brendon starts freaking out. His hair has grown so much, and maybe he wants to keep it and, hey, shouldn't he make the hair decisions? He is the one that almost quit music to become a hair stylist after all.
"But did you actually make it to beauty school? No. So sit down and shut up," Spencer says, and he looks kind threatening with his scissors, so Brendon just follows him out onto the upstairs balcony.
Sitting down, he mutters, "It wasn't beauty school," and winces when Spencer cuts a chunk of hair off the top. "Spencer!"
"This can be really good for you or just really fun for me. It's up to you," Spencer says conversationally. Ryan watches him smile as he snaps the scissors for effect.
Brendon's hand shoots out, waving around. He says, "Ryan! Ryan, are you back there? Make him stop. I saw a horror movie like this once. Don't let him do it!"
Ryan walks forward and grabs onto his hand to make him stop. He sits on the ground in front of Brendon, cross-legged and can't dam his laughter.
"You think this is funny?" Brendon says, still wincing as Spencer starts to clip. His eyes widen when Spencer tosses a piece of hair in front of him. Brendon whispers, "You're all against me."
He crushes Ryan's fingers together when he laughs outright. Ryan tries to pull out of his grip, but Brendon holds on, his glare interrupted by tiny flashes of horror every time he hears the scissors. Ryan says, gritting his teeth against the mild pain, "It's a haircut."
"Yeah, that's how it always starts," Brendon says. "One minute, oh, it's just a haircut, and the next it's Colombian neckties."
He smiles when Ryan laughs this time, loosening his grip to turn Ryan's hand palm up and drag his own fingers open and closed across the skin. Ryan raises an eyebrow, tilting his head back to eye Brendon, lips pursed. Brendon closes his eyes and puckers his in response, and Ryan huffs a small breath, smirking before he gets to his knees.
He braces both hands on Brendon's legs, Brendon's fingers slipping around Ryan's wrist when he turns his left hand over. Brendon's biting his lip as Ryan leans forward and opens up as Ryan gets there, other hand coming up to touch Ryan's neck. His fingertips graze the hairline, little spikes of sensation triggering a chill down his spine, and it's not -- it isn't just because it's cool out.
Above them, Spencer groans. He says, "Ryan. Brendon, you can't move or you'll make it worse."
Pulling back from Ryan, Brendon looks to the side to say, "Are you implying I looked bad before?"
"Implying?" Spencer asks, shaking his head, and Brendon stops rubbing Ryan's wrist methodically to give him the finger.
He turns back and tilts his head, cuing Ryan, but then he snaps around again in the next instant, ducking away from Spencer. "Ow! Did you just stab me?"
Spencer looks -- well, Ryan assumes he's supposed to seem shocked. "Did I? Oh, I'm sorry."
Looking to Ryan again, Brendon says, "I told you. I told you he'd try to -- " and Ryan just kisses Brendon again. He moves a hand from Brendon's knee, dragging it across his thigh to rub him through his pants at the same time, Brendon's legs spreading.
He shifts his hips forward, making tiny anxious noises in his throat, and Ryan whispers, "Brendon, you have to be still," smiling into the next kiss.
Spencer says, "Ryan. Ryan, please tell me you're not giving Brendon a handjob right now, when I need him to quit moving."
"I'm not giving Brendon a handjob," Ryan says, and Brendon laughs against his mouth, muttering, "Yeah, he is. Don't mess this up for me, Spencer."
Spencer groans again, and says, "Fuck this, I give up. I'm going to find Jon." He drops the scissors on the ground and leaves.
Brendon keeps laughing, forehead against Ryan's. He's pressing forward, sing-songing, "He's mad at you."
"No, he's not," Ryan says, standing up so he can straddle Brendon's legs. They're lucky this isn't one of the armchairs. "You're the one he gave the fucked up haircut."
"Hey," Brendon says, but Ryan doesn't give him the opportunity to respond. He shifts forward, and Brendon touches him, one hand on his side, the other curved over his thigh as Ryan rolls his hips forward. Anything Brendon has to say is reduced to, "Mmph, okay."
He opens his legs as much as can comfortably, and Ryan grinds down, humping Brendon on the balcony. Brendon slides his hands to hold onto Ryan's hips, breathing hot and wet against his neck, across his jaw. The best part about this place is the illusion of privacy, any neighbors far enough away that they feel alone, but close enough that there's always that threat. Somebody might see them: Ryan in Brendon's lap with Brendon hot and hard under him, clinging, panting, and thrusting, and he loves that.
"I wanna fuck you," Brendon says, leaving his lips parted, teeth poised against Ryan's jaw. The soft scrape over his skin makes Ryan snap his hips forward. "Let me fuck you."
Ryan moans, ducking his head to breathe, "Later. Next, okay?" near Brendon's ear, because he can't. He doesn't think he can pull away long enough to even get their fucking pants down right now.
He shifts back just enough to get to Brendon's waistband. He hunches down to rest his head on Brendon's shoulder, watching his own hand reach in and grab his cock, stroking him. Brendon's nails slide up Ryan's back, over his shoulder blade, and he says Ryan's name. He mutters it twice, and Ryan lifts his head to kiss Brendon, sloppier now. Brendon moans into his mouth, and Ryan catches Brendon's lip with his teeth quickly before he smirks.
Brendon tips his head back, and Ryan just leans in to kiss his neck. He licks and sucks the skin, and Brendon groans again, saying, "Such a fucking tease. I hate you," as he exhales. Ryan laughs against his throat, lips closed, damp as he grazes them across Brendon's skin.
"That's fine," he says, squeezing a little tighter on the upstroke. Brendon's thighs twitch under him, hips shifting forward almost involuntarily. When Brendon lifts his head again, Ryan sucks on earlobe. He kisses the skin just under the ear and pants, "Brendon, touch me, come on."
Their arms get tangled -- bump into one another as Brendon tries to make sense of what he's doing. After a moment, they make it work, Ryan sitting back enough to jerk Brendon off as Brendon pulls out Ryan's. There's another reason they haven't worn jeans so much in the past couple weeks.
It's just their breaths after that, hasty, shallow pants, and Ryan curves forward to kiss Brendon again once, right before Bendon comes.
"Here -- Ryan," Brendon whispers, voice ragged, thin, and Brendon's mouth falters for just a second, thighs shifting under him again as he comes. He pushes forward and Ryan has to lean back some, Brendon curling into him, still stroking, and Ryan tries to open his eyes before he follows. He touches Brendon's face, coaxing him back again, and Ryan watches his face when he comes, eyelids drooping but not shutting entirely. He doesn't realize he's biting his lips so hard until he stops.
Breath evening again, Ryan looks down at the mess between them and makes a face at Brendon when he catches his eyes. He wrinkles his nose and shakes a little when Brendon laughs, pulsing his fingers around Ryan's dick one last time and letting go.
"Eww," Brendon whines, but he laughs. He lifts his hand to show Ryan the come on his fingers and then wipes them on his own shirt. He tries to touch Ryan's face with them after, and Ryan leans back turning his head from side to side.
"I swear to God, Brendon -- " he says.
"What?" Brendon says. "You swear to God, what?" but he drops his hand and fists it in Ryan's shirt. He tugs him closer, and Ryan lets himself be kissed, slow and lazy.
Pulling away, Ryan informs Brendon that, "Your hair looks so stupid." It does. Brendon should know that half a haircut is not the way to go.
"Let me see," Brendon says. "Let me see; where's your phone?"
Ryan leans over to grab it from the ground, because even if he rarely gets reception anymore, he's still used to keeping up with it. He turns on the camera and holds it up to capture both of them in the shot. When he pulls it up to view it, Brendon is, of course, making some terrible face with his stupid half-haircut, and Ryan's squinting. He flips the phone around to share, and Brendon laughs.
"I tried to warn you," Ryan says, shrugging.
Brendon bumps his wrist against Ryan's shoulder. He says, "Nuh-uh, I look good. I look great. I think I'm gonna keep it like this, watch," and Ryan can only laugh.
four
sunrise
The way reality bleeds into dreams is what makes it funny. As soon as his eyes flutter open, Jon loses whatever images were flickering behind the lids, but he waits for a moment, staring at the ceiling and realizes that the breathing -- that isn't just in his head. They aren't being loud, careful to maintain tempered swearing and hushed gasps, but Jon can tell Ryan's moan (when it's good, when it's really good for him, they can tell) and even if their sounds are quieter, it doesn't change the way they shake him awake on the mattress with all the fucking.
Not that he really minds, but he turns his head to say that, and Brendon speaks before Jon can, saying, "You know you smile in your sleep?"
Pushing his arms up, Jon feels the stretch all the way to his toes, another sleepy grin slipping across his mouth.
"It was a good dream," he says, and Brendon smirks as Ryan laughs breathlessly underneath him.
His cheek pressed into the sheets, the expression freezes on Ryan's face, Brendon thrusting into him just a fraction harder. Brendon bends forward, mouth open on Ryan's back. The snap of his hips goes shallow, and he touches Ryan's face, fingers sliding into his mouth when Ryan turns his head into the bed more. He looks up just a little, and Jon can see Ryan bite, hold onto Brendon's fingers with his teeth, and behind him Brendon hisses and thrusts deep again.
"Holy -- shit," Brendon stumbles, and Ryan's eyes pop open, staring at Jon with Brendon's fingers against his lips and Brendon's cock in his ass, and Jon just reaches over to smooth down his hair.
He's okay with watching, letting the early lights sink into his bones. He pulls his eyes away from Ryan, dragging his hand low across his own belly. He flicks at the waistband of his boxers idly, and it isn't until Brendon rises up again, sitting back to get more leverage, and encourages Jon to, "Go ahead, man," that he dips his hand inside.
This is a good way to start the day, Jon decides, curling fingers around his dick. Brendon reaches for Ryan's cock, too, and Jon strokes himself easily, unhurried, Ryan panting no more than a foot away.
Jon lets his eyes slip closed again, jerking to their sounds and the movement until he hears Spencer say, "I leave for five minutes and, Brendon, you have your dick in somebody's -- "
"It was his idea!" Brendon says a little desperately, voice strained. "He said, he wanted --"
Ryan grunts, reaching back to scrape his fingertips somewhere, anywhere on Brendon and pull. Brendon thrusts in quick and Jon smiles.
Spencer doesn't notice Jon's awake until he's crawled up the bed, wedging himself into the small space between the three of them. He looks over, nudging Jon a little, and asks, "You, too?"
Jon just keeps his sleepy smile. He just feels so pleasant right now, and he helpfully shifts left, Spencer rolling onto his back and shaking his shoulders as he gets comfortable.
He kisses Ryan. Jon can't really see it at first, but he notices Spencer lift his head and angle closer, so Jon rocks onto his side and watches them. He rests his chin on the hard curve of Spencer's shoulder, hand still pumping around his cock, and Ryan smiles a little into their kisses as Spencer whispers something unintelligible even this close. He likes the way they look, mouths connected, and Spencer's hand bumps into Jon's thigh, reaching behind himself as he kisses Ryan, and Jon stops his own hand over dick when Spencer's finds its way there.
As they break part, Ryan mutters something this time, biting hard into his bottom lip at the tail end of it. Spencer laughs a little and Ryan drops his head, hiding his face. He curses into the mattress, a mumbled exclamation, and Jon knows without checking that he's coming. Turning his head, Jon catches Brendon's face, and he smiles smugly, definitely triumphant and cocky as fuck.
Just beside Jon, Spencer turns his face up and says, "hey," catching Jon's attention, as if he didn't already have it by jerking him off.
"Good morning," Jon says, cheerfully, and Spencer grins, sharp. He pulls his hand out of Jon's shorts, moves around to face him, and drapes one leg across Jon, half on his body as he goes for his cock again. Jon sighs happily, and Spencer tucks his head against the bed right next to Jon's, rolling his hips, though not insistent.
"Hi, Jon," Spencer whispers, breath warm.
"Hey, are you comfortable?" Jon asks, because Spencer is definitely situated right over the split between the two beds, and that could get awkward if the mattresses shift.
Spencer does something -- moves his head, and Jon thinks it means yes. Anyway, it turns out it doesn't matter, because a few moments later, Spencer lifts his head to grin at Jon again, more a sly smile this time, and he inches down Jon's body to mouth the skin just above his waistband as he pulls down Jon's boxers.
Next to them, Brendon pulls out of Ryan, urging to him to flip over. He does, legs bent and Brendon moves up to hold himself over Ryan's middle, knees on either side of him, and Jon watches Brendon jerk off onto Ryan's stomach as Spencer practically swallows his cock. The meet halfway to kiss, Ryan arching into Brendon even though they both just got off, always just slightly greedier with each other.
Pulling apart, Ryan mutters, "look, look," and Brendon peeks over his shoulder at Spencer.
Jon shifts his attention back there, too, and Spencer's good. No, Spencer's head is definition of amazing, but he'll refuse to blow them if they ask, so it's like a fucking treat whenever he decides to take initiative. Jon almost wants to clap about it, but he raises his hips just a bit instead, and when Spencer doesn't stop him, he does it a second time, experimenting. Jon pushes his head back into the mattress, closes his eyes, and when he hears a giggle, he looks over at Brendon and Ryan watching them now.
"What?" he whispers.
Brendon shakes his head. He gives Jon a thumbs up, shifting against Ryan some to raise his arm, and Ryan slaps his hand, muttering, "Stop it," but Brendon just grins with his tongue between his teeth, and, really, a great way to start the day.
five
syllable
Ryan seeks out Spencer first when he's most inside his own head. Spencer doesn't even know if Ryan does it intentionally. He doesn't know if there's a method behind the way Ryan comes to him with the ideas first, speaking until Spencer tells him to keep going or to start over, sometimes before the thoughts have fully formed. Spencer doesn't really think much of it either, but he remembers how a few years ago, before they had Brendon, before they really even had Brent, Ryan brought him some pages and handed them off instead of reading them aloud. He had told Spencer he was trying something different, waiting as Spencer read. Spencer had questioned one line, and Ryan said, "You're right, you're right," and changed an entire verse.
On the way up to the lake, Ryan calls Spencer's cell and asks, "Okay, you remember, remember that weekend the school had that lock-in?" and they spend half an hour with Ryan talking about free will and sleeping on gymnasium floors, even though Ryan's only one car ahead with Jon, and the discussion probably could've waited another couple hours or so. It just amuses Spencer how people get set in their ways.
"But, no -- I will physically cut out anything about going into the woods, Ryan," Spencer promises, and Ryan laughs on the other end.
Brendon finally bumps his knuckles into Spencer's side from the driver's seat, saying, "Hey, what the fuck? What the fuck, talk to me; this is my car."
Spencer gets off the phone, Ryan saying something about later. They'll go to the dock when they get there, and Spencer hangs up, looking to Brendon.
"Okay, what?"
"I just wanted you to pay attention to me, man," Brendon says, shrugging, and then, "you know, I have really great focus. Like, I could keep it together and not kill us if, let's say, someone decided he wanted to do something distracting right now. I'm just saying."
Spencer laughs at him and turns up the radio, but then they hit traffic halfway there, so he reaches over and undoes Brendon's belt anyway.
The cabin is different from a one-bedroom in Maryland. It's bigger. There's no reason for them to have to live right on top of each other, because everyone has room to spread out. But Spencer takes the time to pull the bench over to the full keyboard in the sitting room with the instruments, and Ryan comes in and sits right next to him.
Spencer plays some of the stuff he's practiced over the last few months, a lot of it still somewhat unnatural to his fingers, but the warm-ups he has down. He goes through scales and can't reach the top keys without telling Ryan to "lift up" because he's got his notebook leaning against the keyboard, hitting odd high notes when he starts to write more across the page.
"Okay," Ryan says after a short while, "all right, this. What about this?"
He moves his leg against Spencer's, their thighs touching. He taps his pen on Spencer's leg too, an anxious rhythm that doesn't fit the words, just keeps his other hand busy as he angles his torso toward Spencer to recite lyrics.
Varying degrees of proximity and second opinions. Their relationship has changed over the years, but there are still plenty of days when less is enough between them. Near but not always pre-occupied with the quickest way to get past clothing. Sometimes Ryan kisses him, and Spencer thinks about how Ryan would give in if Spencer touched that spot on his neck. He could press thumb into the skin, and Spencer could have him however he wanted, not taking advantage, but content to simply know.
They don't always need to get off to get each other, and he can almost gauge how serious one of Ryan's ideas are by how he presents them to Spencer; whether carefully thought out with his guitar in hand, a throwaway comment while they're toasting waffles, or sitting in the trees close to the water.
Don't get him wrong. They fuck, but midday in the middle of watching dvds or with Brendon and Jon isn't like when Ryan crawls into bed with him when Spencer least expects it, mouthing things he only somewhat understands as Ryan hides his fingers under blankets bunched at Spencer's waist. That's not -- Spencer almost hates that because it isn't fair, the way Ryan says, "so I was thinking -- how do you feel about --" like he's taking advantage of the way Spencer can only say yes to him like this.
"Ryan, not right now," he says, meaning the words, but Ryan says, "listen, just listen," and Spencer can't resist the hitch in Ryan's breath as Spencer pushes inside.
And it's only during those instances, the two of them alone in silent rooms, that Spencer thinks about the first and second time things ever went this far. Once, tucked away in Ryan's bedroom, and Ryan confessed with his mouth against Spencer's that he'd done it if before, and it was okay if Spencer wanted to fuck him, that was fine, they just had to be quiet, and Spencer came too soon. Then in Maryland, everybody else had wanted to actually leave the apartment for food, and the bunk bed kept creaking the whole time, cheap metal and a terrible mattress. Spencer had his hand in Ryan's basketball shorts when he said maybe he'd like to try it the other way, maybe, and Ryan's hair threw shadows across his face as he leaned over Spencer, thrusting slowly and promising he'd make it as good as he could.
So it's different when Ryan comes to him first in the cabin, alone, just the two of them in private spaces. Spencer doesn't know if Ryan does it that way on purpose, comes to him with words first because that's how they started. He just finds Spencer and starts talking, and Spencer lets him get it all out, even when Ryan starts telling him about the random dreams he has about space ports. He brushes his teeth while Spencer turns on the shower in the master bathroom, saying maybe they could turn into, like, a bedtime story. Lost in Space meets the fucking Nutcracker kind of story, and Spencer just says, "uh huh, uh huh, helmets and put the girls in pointe shoes, yeah" until Ryan spits, rinses out his mouth and stares at him.
"I'm kidding," Spencer says, "I'm kidding, Ryan, I know that's bullshit." He helps Ryan pull off his shirt before opening the shower door, saying, "Come on, okay, tell me what you're really thinking."
And Ryan follows him. One hand brushing against Spencer's waist, he closes the shower door as they step inside, letting the truth slip out under the spray of rushing water so no one else can hear the words.
six
spin
He's bored out of his mind. He made the mistake of taking a nap earlier, and when he woke up, the house was empty. After calling out a few times as he walked the hallway, getting only silence in return, Brendon sat in the living room to watch one of the dvds they brought up, but lost interest fifteen minutes into it.
Now he's back to bored and aimless, yawning even though he feels fully rested now. He wishes his phone got reception in here, so he could call one of them and let them know exactly how much they suck. There isn't anything worth snacking on in the kitchen, foosball isn't worth it alone, and really, they could have woken him up. This is ridiculous.
It isn't until he actually walks out of the back patio doors that he can see the end of the dock, and notices someone sitting there. Jon.
Walking out to the end of the dock, Brendon says, "I take it all back."
Jon looks around, sidekick in his hands. He's sitting down on the wood, almost right along the edge. "What?"
"I was thinking evil, hateful things about you a minute ago," Brendon says sitting down beside him. He dangles his legs over the edge. "Now it's just Spencer and Ryan. I thought you guys left me up here to survive on my own."
Looking back to his sidekick, Jon says, "We left you food. And your car is still here."
"Details. I'm too pretty to think about technicality." Brendon shifts to try to look over at the Jon's phone. "Are you talking to someone?"
Jon tilts the sidekick to show Brendon the conversation he's having. "Dude, yeah. Why else would I be freezing my ass off? I get bars out here."
Brendon touches the phone in his own pocket. He slides his fingers across the plastic that peaks out, thinking about checking his own but drops his hand. There isn't really anyone he needs to speak to that badly.
Instead, he says, "It's not that cold out here. It's kind of nice, man. I could go skinny dipping right now."
Jon laughs. "You go skinny dipping, you get a special version of blue balls."
"Huh? No, I wouldn't." Brendon bends forward, resting his chest on his thighs, and kicks his feet a little as he looks as the water. "I'll jump in right now. Clothes on, though. Come on, tell me I won't."
"Right, so you can get hypothermia. Awesome," Jon says. He frowns at his phone, lowers it and asks, "Do you spell occasionally with two C's or one?"
Brendon narrows his eyes at him. He shifts forward in the wood a bit and shakes his head. "Uh. Who cares? Hey, I'm gonna do it. I'm gonna jump in the lake, Jon, stop me." He laughs a little to himself. "Go jump in the lake, oh, man."
"Brendon. I'm not taking you to the hospital or something if you, like. If your heart seizes or something," Jon says.
"Yes, you will," Brendon says. He nudges Jon's leg and grins. He's still scooting in the tiniest increments, teasing. "You would because you're a way better person than, uh. Ryan. Ryan might just tell me that's what I got. Anyway, that's not gonna happen."
"Brendon -- "
Brendon salutes Jon, steady hand against his forehead. "See you on the other side, Walker," he says, pulls his phone from his pocket, sets it down, and pushes off the dock.
The water is kind of freezing. He was awake before, but he's fucking alert now, like. The chills spike up his spine and his chest feels tight. He thinks of when he first learned how to swim, the rush of bubbles around him, and how his cousin had said, if he just relaxed, he'd eventually float to the top. When he breaks the surface, he shakes his head wildly. He looks up, and Jon's just watching, mouth open. He looks somewhere between amused and impressed and unsurprised all at once.
"Guess what?" Brendon yells. "I'm alive! And, oh, and..." he bites his tongue, reaching down to touch his crotch, and yeah, yeah, "I think my dick is okay! I'm alright."
He swims over to the edge, and climbs out of the water. When he gets back onto the dock, he has toe off his shoes, too heavy with water. Brendon runs the length of the dock and drops to his knees, hugging Jon from behind. Jon makes a pained noise that dissolves into a laugh, and he groans his dismay when Brendon squeezes him and tries to rub his wet face against Jon's neck.
"You're soaked, Brendon -- soaked," Jon complains.
"Miss me? Were you worried about me?" Brendon asks. "I told you. I should've bet you all the fucking money in your bank account."
Jon tries to shrugs Brendon off, but Brendon just holds on, laughing.
"Aw, Brendon, I'm already cold. Now I'm gonna -- hey, you're gonna really freeze now," Jon says, and he finally manages to shake loose, standing. Brendon stands, too, bouncing a little on the balls of his feet. "You took off your shoes? You should dry off."
"Yeah," Brendon says. He sniffs, wipes his wet sleeve across his face, and then grabs for Jon's arm. "Yeah, I'm gonna go back in. Come with me, man. I'm so bored."
They start heading back towards the house. Halfway there, Brendon takes the opportunity to try and jump on Jon's back. Jon shouts and declares him too-damn-heavy, and Brendon just laughs, insisting, "You can take it. What are you, a man or a mouse? Let's go, let's go."
They detour to the garage because there's a load of dry towels still sitting in the dryer. Brendon hops on the washer next to it, and Jon fishes out a couple towels, throwing them at Brendon's face. Brendon shrugs out his wet hoodie, patting the towel across his chest, over the t-shirt.
Jon laughs. "What's that gonna do? You should just take it off. We can toss it all in the dryer. I'll take these towels out."
Brendon drops the towel to take off his shirt. He says, "Jon, how many times do I have to tell you? If you want me naked, just say it. I'm probably gonna say yes."
He gets chills again, the air too cool against his damp skin. Jon just grabs onto the sleeve of the shirt as Brendon pulls it off, tugging. When it clears his head, Jon sets it aside, and Brendon rubs his hair, draping the towel over his hair. He holds onto either side, the towel tight against his head, and pouts when he realizes that Jon's busy folding towels.
"Jon," he says. "Jon, for real. I'm about to take off the rest of my clothes."
"Is that a hint?" Jon asks.
Brendon doesn't think it's a hint at all. He thinks it's pretty much a blatant invitation. There's this thing called subtlety? Yeah, he doesn't waste much time on it usually. He kicks his foot out, hits Jon's leg with it, and thank God Jon isn't like Ryan or Spencer. He turns toward Brendon, stepping in front of him when Brendon reaches to curl his finger through a belt loop, and Jon doesn't make him wait for what he wants.
"Jon Walker's gonna get some," Brendon mutters, smiling and shifting forward on the washer when Jon touches his thigh. He pauses, pulling back when Jon leans closer. He could make Jon wait, make him earn it. Brendon could have the upper hand here, but Jon slides his hand higher on Brendon's leg, closer to his fly and, really, Brendon just isn't that mean.
He hooks his foot around the back of Jon's knee, pulling himself as close as he can in wet jeans that squeak on the washer when he moves. Jon kisses him, open-mouthed and soft, already unbuttoning Brendon's pants. He grazes the backs of his fingers over Brendon's dick through the denim, just enough touch to make him keen.
Brendon tries to somehow pull Jon even closer, but Jon says, "Just come down. You need to get these off."
He starts peeling Brendon's jeans down his thighs as soon as he slides off the washer, standing. Brendon helps wriggle out of his pants and underwear, stroking his cock as he steps out of them. Jon stays on his knees, and Brendon looks at him with an eyebrow raised. He holds the base as Jon closes his mouth over the head, sucking. Brendon licks his lips and braces one hand on the washer behind him. Jon takes care of his balls, too, touching him there as he blows Brendon, and gets goosebumps from how cool it is in the garage and from Jon's mouth.
"Hold on," he whispers almost inaudibly, and then louder, repeats, "Wait, hold on."
This is good, but he thinks they should move. He urges Jon to stand up, and leads him into the cabin. They make it to the couch, Brendon taking the time to grab lube from the downstairs bathroom before practically dashing to the cushions in the sitting room. Jon crawls over Brendon as he takes off his own hoodie. Brendon kisses him, rucking up Jon's shirt, and demands Jon get it, "off, take this off."
Jon sits up to undo his pants before Brendon can get the shirt off, and he catcalls when Jon stands to pull down his pants. As he kicks them aside, Brendon sits upright and wraps his hand around Jon's cock, jerking him. Jon leans down and kisses him, and Brendon licks his lips again when Jon pulls back, craning forward to lick the head. Jon touches Brendon's head, rests his hand there, and Brendon starts out setting the rhythm, but relaxes slowly, Jon thrusting his hips. Brendon hears Jon moan above him when he hums around his cock, letting Jon fuck his mouth.
He touches Jon's hip, encourages him more, a little deeper, try it, and Jon pushes slowly until Brendon's almost taking it all. He pulls out, and Brendon goes back to jerking him off.
Swallowing, Brendon says, "lie down."
"Floor?" Jon asks, and Brendon nods, and Jon drops down. His kiss is wet, tongues and heavy breath, Jon grabbing his ass with both hands and lifting his hips up into Brendon where they lie on the floor.
Jon reaches for the lube, discarded on the couch. He slicks his fingers and makes Brendon move closer to his face. He sucks on the head of Brendon's dick, halfheartedly blowing him again as his fingers push into Brendon's ass, but that's enough. It's enough for the moment, and Brendon does his best to keep his weight balanced, trying not rock his hips.
When Jon slides his fingers out, Brendon moves down again. He bends down to kiss Jon again, ragged whimpers spilling from his mouth. Behind him, Jon's cock brushes against his ass as he lubes himself, and when he breathes, "okay, okay," Brendon sits up to reach back and guide himself down. He's wet enough that it doesn't take a whole lot of effort. Jon pushes in, and Brendon rocks forward until that isn't enough, until he's bouncing on Jon's cock, a hand wrapped his own. Jon is pretty quiet whenever they fuck, but Brendon has a dirty mouth, and he comes cursing, riding it out until Jon spills inside of him, and all they can do is wait to calm down, breaths fast and shallow.
Brendon falls forward, overheated instead of cold now, and he mutters, "shit. Jon, shit," because it's all he can think to say.
"Yeah," Jon says.
"Ryan and Spencer missed out," Brendon says, grinning into Jon's skin just barely, satisfied.
Jon touches Brendon's side, skating finger nails along Brendon's ribs. "I think they were trying to find a movie theatre."
"Fuck them," he says, because that sucks. They could have woken him up.
Jon laughs almost, just one swift gust of breath, but he says, "Maybe later, when they get back."
seven
symbiosis
When the sun goes down, they play the five songs they have from beginning to end, regardless of mistakes, just to see what everything sounds like. By the end of the last one, Brendon is barely trying anymore. He halfheartedly sings the lyrics and when Ryan makes a comment, annoyed, Brendon just says, "I haven't eaten all day."
"You ate two hours ago," Spencer says.
Brendon actually looks surprised. He asks, "Is that all? Really?"
There's only one way to fix the situation. Jon says they have a lot of stuff in the kitchen now, he can probably make some spaghetti or something, but Brendon wants breakfast.
"It's almost seven at night," Ryan points out, and he still seems mildly annoyed with the whole situation. They've left the last song hanging, permanently interrupted, and he keeps his fingers poised over guitar strings like eventually they'll get the hint.
Brendon goes over to Ryan and presses his face close, coaxing. "Ryan, come on. You can't tell me you don't want waffles right now. Pancakes? Eggs and bacon and other terrible meat products you eat?"
Even Spencer agrees that, "We do have all that syrup."
Brendon nudges his nose against Ryan's neck, and Ryan just huffs and drops his hands. Brendon grins.
They agree that a breakfast feast at night is the best plan of action. Jon takes over the kitchen as cook, and Brendon tells Ryan and Spencer that they should make those s'mores.
Spencer crosses him arms. "Hey, I'm so glad we have you to delegate."
"What? You think I don't have a job?" Brendon asks. "I have the most difficult role of all here. I'm gonna be the taste-tester."
Spencer snorts, but no one really argues. Ryan and Spencer take the graham crackers, marshmallows, and chocolate over the fireplace to make the s'mores. Jon makes all the key breakfast dishes, and Brendon actually helps by mixing batter or scrambling the eggs when he isn't bust trying to find tape so he can scrawl "Kiss the cook!" on a piece and stick it to Jon's forehead. He finds excuses to make Jon look at him and kisses his forehead, his cheek, his mouth quickly every time.
"You're so corny," Jon says. Brendon just shrugs and stirs things happily.
They spread all the dishes (paper plates) out on the floor by the fireplace, piles of breakfast food and lots of sweet toppings for the biscuits, pancakes, and waffles. Brendon and Jon sit down near Ryan and Spencer, and Spencer pulls out a marshmallow, still aflame on the tines of his fork. He turns to Jon and starts to brandish it threateningly, but stops short, just looking. Jon blows out the small fire, and Spencer frowns down at the fork.
"So, 'kiss the cook'?" Spencer says, and instead of using the marshmallow for one of the s'mores, he picks it off and eats it.
Brendon pipes up from his place, holding two graham crackers for Ryan. "You read it right! Act accordingly, Spencer."
Spencer gives Brendon a sideways glance, but Jon tilts his head when Spencer looks back at him. Spencer rolls his eyes. He moves closer to Jon, scooting over on the floor, and he grants him a simple kiss, no tongue.
"Marshmallows," he says in apology when he moves back. He licks his lips and Jon mimics the action, his own lips a little sweet now, too.
They eat with the television on, letting the dvd play as background noise. It feels good to hang out, laughing and ribbing each other. Jon leaves the piece of tape on his head, and Ryan doesn't even notice it until Jon starts scratching around the edge.
He leans forward, laughter dropping off. "Wait, what does that say?"
Spencer picks up one of the s'mores, pushing his paper plate aside. "Make out, Ryan. It says make out with Jon Walker for all his hard work."
Ryan laughs, but he leans over. He places his hands on the floor, planting them in the empty places between plates, and waits. Jon's lounging, lying out and propped on his elbow, and he just watches Ryan for a moment, sort of smirking.
"What," Jon says and it's not a question. He sits up and closes the divide, balancing precariously. He tries hard not to flatten a stack of waffles with his hand and catches Ryan's mouth.
Ryan sighs, the smallest exhalation of sound behind the air and pushes forward. Jon feels them tipping, dangerously close to losing his placement and making a mess of things, and when he hears something thud softly, Brendon says, "Hey! You're lucky that wasn't open, watch out." Ryan takes that as his cue to pause, rising to step over the food, and Jon falls back into the floor under him. He touches Jon's face, stroking his thumb over the skin near his ear.
"What about me?" Brendon asks. He smacks Jon's calf and Ryan mumbles for him to shut up, but Brendon doesn't quit. Spencer just laughs, and Jon finally looks over to see Brendon tucking a napkin into his collar that reads 'Kiss the Lovely Assistant (Me!) Too'.
Ryan looks around and laughs as well. He motions for Brendon to come closer, and Ryan sits back to kiss Brendon, long and wet, and when Brendon starts to press closer and closer Ryan stops him. Brendon frowns and tries to lean in again, connecting on briefly before Ryan dodges him again.
Brendon says, "Ryan. Ryan," but misses when he goes for a third. Ryan just smirks.
"What about Spencer?" Ryan asks.
"Yeah," Spencer says, between bursts of breathless laughter. "Yeah, me!"
Brendon scrambles over to him, grabbing another napkin. He writes 'Kiss Spencer!' on it, showing it off and tries to tuck the paper in Spencer's collar, but Spencer won't let him. He keeps batting Brendon's hands away, and the napkin ends up crumpled in the haphazard crush of their hands as Spencer pushes Brendon back, moving on top of him.
"I'm trying--" Brendon says even as Spencer kisses him. "I'm trying to give you a little sign!"
Spencer mutters, "You're so stupid. Brendon, I'm already -- I'm giving you what you want instead of making you get the hell away from me, and you won't just let it happen."
"Dude, I'm a genius!" Brendon protests. "I'm the one that got the fucking kissing started; I'm a master."
"Brendon," Spencer says. He sneaks his hand between them, lifting up, and Jon can guess at exactly what he does when Brendon bites his lip and lets his eyes shut briefly.
"Okay, yeah. Silence, got it," Brendon promises, and Spencer shoots a pointed look to Jon and Ryan before he ducks his head again, picking up where they left off.
Ryan's smiling softly when Jon looks to him again. He hovers over Jon, quiet but amused. Jon says, "I'm easier than that."
"Easy, Jon?" Ryan asks. He drops closer, and Jon shrugs against the floor. Ryan kisses him and rolls his hip once, earning a small groan from Jon. His mouth is warm, soft and eager. Jon flips them, and Ryan's legs come around his own as they kiss, noting the little satisfied noises Spencer makes in throat not too far away.
"This -- why," Brendon says. "Jesus, we don't even need four bedrooms," and Spencer orders him to be quiet again.
Ryan chuckles, smiling into their next kiss, and Jon doesn't say it, but it's true. The guy kind of has a point.
*****************************************************************************************

If Brendon Urie could have one thing for Christmas, it would be to have sex with his bandmates. All his bandmates. At once.
Not that he’d ever tell them that, of course. He’s really quite happy with his life right now, and his band, and he really doesn’t want all of that ruined because he had sex dreams about his bandmates. And oh, did he have sex dreams about them. He woke up two weeks ago sweaty and aching after dreaming about Ryan fucking him hard, squeezing his hips so hard they bruised while Jon and Spencer watched. Just last night he dreamt about sucking Spencer’s cock while Jon fucked him.
So really, it would be Brendon’s ideal Christmas if he woke up on morning and his three best friends were sitting naked on the end of his bed.
***
Of course, it doesn’t actually happen like that. Ryan puts too much planning into it to just turn up on Brendon’s bed naked. It has to be bigger than that. Besides, Ryan’s never liked early morning sex, much. He prefers to have orgies at night. (Not that he’s ever really had an orgy before, but he’s sure he would prefer to have one at night.)
Now, Ryan knows Brendon pretty well. It wasn’t too hard for him to guess why Brendon spent more time staring at Ryan’s lips than his eyes when they talked, why the muscles in Brendon’s shoulders tensed whenever Jon brushed up against him, why he stumbled over words when he watched Spencer drum. Plus there was that time they fell asleep on Ryan’s couch; the things Brendon moaned in his sleep were…interesting, to say the least.
It’s not hard to get Spencer in on it at all. Ryan has known Spencer pretty much forever. This means Ryan knows Spencer has no problem kissing boys (they even kissed a couple of times a long, long time ago) and certainly would have no problem kissing Brendon. If Ryan’s estimations are correct, Spencer wouldn’t be all that upset if Jon joined in either. All it takes is Ryan being a little daring, backing Spencer up against the wall just inside the door of his apartment, and biting his neck a little while he whispers in Spencer’s ear. Spencer is immediately agreeable, especially when Ryan mentions how much he thinks Brendon wants this.
***
Jon is a little more difficult, if only because of the distance. Also, none of them have made out with Jon before. But Ryan had backup, now; he had Spencer sitting next to him, thigh pressed against his, and Jon on speakerphone.
“Jon,” Ryan starts and Spencer echoes him.
“Why do I have a bad feeling about this?” Jon asks playfully.
“How much would you do to give Brendon the ultimate Christmas present?” Ryan replies, scratching a nail down Spencer’s thigh.
“What would that entail?” Jon sounds wary now.
“Well, flying out to Vegas, for one,” Spencer puts in.
“And, maybe, having sex with us,” Ryan says, all in a rush.
Jon is silent for a long time and Ryan’s kind of afraid he hung up on them. He’s almost ready to turn to Spencer and say “Well, there’s another bassist gone,” when Jon makes a kind of choking noise.
“With us?” He asks.
“Us,” Ryan repeats.
“Brendon, Ryan, and me,” Spencer clarifies.
“So Brendon’s ultimate Christmas present would be all of us having sex?”
“I’m pretty sure.” Ryan tries to sound sure.
“He told you this?”
“Well, not in so many words…”
“And you’re both in on it? You both want to?”
Ryan nods, then realizes Jon can’t see him. He swallows and says “Yeah,” Spencer joining in a moment later.
“Then I’ll do it.”
“Seriously?” Spencer asks.
“Seriously. I mean, it’s sex, it can’t be that bad.”
“It won’t be bad at all,” Spencer says.
“And it’ll make Brendon really happy,” Ryan contributes.
“Yeah, then.” Jon takes a deep breath. “I can’t believe I’m doing this.” He laughs a little. “It’ll have to be a couple of days after Christmas, though. I can’t get out there before then. 27th, all right?”
“If you can brave the airport,” Spencer says, sounding very happy.
“Yeah…just, yeah.”
***
Jon’s flight gets in 11:00 PM on the 26th. Spencer picks him up at the airport and they end up making out in the handicapped stall in the bathroom. If Jon wasn’t convinced before, he’s definitely convinced now.
They go back to Ryan’s house, because Ryan is the mastermind behind this whole thing. Ryan’s got fucking outlines and diagrams of what they’re going to do. The first step is luring Brendon out of the house, so they can get in. This necessitates some planning because Ryan wants them all to be waiting when Brendon gets back. They end up sending him on an errand. Spencer’s the one they get to call Brendon, because Spencer is really the best actor. The phone conversation goes something like this:
“Hello?”
“Hey, Bren.”
“Spencer?”
“Yeah?”
“You have any eggnog?”
“Let me check…no.”
“Oh, well, we’re coming over in about half-an-hour and you better have some eggnog.”
And then Spencer hangs up. Brendon, of course, grabs his car keys and runs out the door, because he doesn’t really want to find out what Spencer (or Ryan, for that matter) will do if he doesn’t have eggnog.
***
Brendon’s just a little cold as he grabs the grocery bag containing eggnog and a pack of gum off the passenger seat of his car. It’s the day after Christmas and Brendon’s a little sad, but looking forward to the prospect of seeing his friends. Even if they did threaten him over lack of eggnog. The stairs up to his apartment are slippery and Brendon takes them too quickly, but he’s been doing this for a while and he doesn’t fall.
Brendon’s key turns uselessly in the lock; he’s almost positive he locked the door when he left, but it’s unlocked now. Either someone broke in or Brendon’s losing his mind. Brendon shakes it off and opens the door, figuring that if there is someone waiting to rob him and shoot him, his friends’ll be here to discover his bleeding body before long.
And Brendon’s theory about robbers seems to be correct because as soon as he steps in the door, there is soft fabric wrapped around his eyes and a cold hand clapped over his mouth. Brendon tries to bite the hand, but only succeeds in slobbering all over it. A warm, thin body presses up against Brendon’s back. “Shh,” the person whispers in his ear and even from that little, Brendon can tell it’s Ryan. His body goes slack, a little, and he breathes out a sigh of relief. He’s not going to die after all.
“We’ve got a present for you,” Ryan says, and pushes Brendon a little so he’s walking, tripping over his own feet and Ryan’s. It seems to take a long time to get wherever they’re going, but they get their eventually and Ryan just keeps pressing his body harder against Brendon’s side.
“You ready for this?” Ryan asks, taking his hand away from Brendon’s mouth. “I think it’s just what you wanted for Christmas.”
The smooth fabric slides off Brendon’s eyes and he takes a moment to adjust to the dim light in the room. But when they do, oh God, it is exactly what Brendon wanted for Christmas.
Spencer’s shirtless, lying back on Brendon’s bed, hands twisted in Jon’s hair, while Jon licks at his collarbones and bites his shoulders.
“Fuck,” Brendon mutters, “Fuck, Ryan, are you serious?”
“Completely,” Ryan replies, sliding his cold hands under Brendon’s shirt. His fingers leave tingling trails where they brush over Brendon’s skin. Ryan seizes the hem of Brendon’s shirt and pulls up, pulling it over Brendon’s head and dropping it haphazardly to the floor. He moves his head down so he can suck hard on Brendon’s neck. Brendon whimpers, breath catching in his throat. Ryan’s hands moves to work at his belt.
Brendon’s hands don’t seem to be doing what he wants them to; they’re playing, toying with the hem of Ryan’s t-shirt, tugging it up and down to get flighty touches of the cool skin underneath. He finally manages to work the shirt up Ryan’s torso and pulls back so Ryan detaches from his neck and Brendon can pull the t-shirt off completely. And then there’s another presence behind Brendon, a strong, warm body pressing against his naked back. Jon’s lips brush over his ear and, oh God, that must be Jon’s cock pressing into Brendon’s ass.
“Care to bring things back here?” Spencer’s voice comes from the bed, where he has managed to free himself of his pants and is lying completely naked. Ryan seems all too enticed by this site and leaves his fumbling with Brendon to press his face right into Spencer’s cock, tongue darting out to lick the head and Spencer’s thighs.
“Fuck,” Jon mumbles when he catches sight of them. “That’s hot.”
“Y-yeah,” Brendon replies, taking a small step towards the bed. Jon follows and Brendon can hear him struggling with the fly on his pants, shedding them and his boxers the closer he gets to the bed.
Brendon crawls up onto the bed, moving as close as he can to kiss Spencer. Spencer’s lips are swollen and hot beneath Brendon’s and one of Spencer’s hands moves to tuck itself down the hack of Brendon’s pants, squeezing his ass. There’s a hand unbuttoning his jeans and Brendon pulls his lips away from Spencer’s to see one of Ryan’s hands working at his pants while Ryan’s got his lips closed around Spencer’s cock. Spencer moans and Jon tumbles up on the other side of Brendon, lying kind of sideways so he can lick Brendon’s nipple.
Brendon lifts his ass so Ryan can slide his pants down his legs and pull them off. His hips drop suddenly as Jon bites his nipple. Ryan pulls off Spencer’s cock with a wet, suction sound and moves over to lick at the head of Brendon’s cock before taking it fully in his mouth. Ryan hums around Brendon’s cock and Brendon gasps and mutters something indecipherable. Spencer turns to kiss Brendon, biting his bottom lip, sucking it into his mouth.
Brendon shudders a little and Ryan pulls off of Brendon’s cock, going back to Spencer’s. Spencer breaks back from Brendon’s mouth to moan and run one hand down to Ryan’s hair. Jon moves his mouth up to Brendon’s ear. “You want me to fuck you?” Jon whispers, just loud enough for Brendon to hear.
Brendon gasps and nods. “You want me to fuck you?” Jon repeats, “What about Ryan? You want Ryan to fuck you? Or Spencer, maybe?” A shiver runs down Brendon’s back. “All of them?”
Brendon turns his head so he can see Brendon and Spencer. Spencer’s legs are spread, one hooked over Brendon’s leg. Ryan’s moved his mouth down, kissed down Spencer’s balls to his hole, pushing his tongue in a little and pulling it back out. Spencer’s mouth was open and he was making sounds, little whimpers and murmurs.
“I think you’re gonna have to settle for me,” Jon says, “Because it looks like Ryan and Spencer are occupied.”
Brendon gasps. “Ryan,” he mutters, “Ryan, you gonna fuck Spencer?”
“He better,” Spencer groans.
Ryan pulls back and moves up, lying across Spencer’s body and leaning over to kiss Brendon. Brendon licks into Ryan’s mouth and he can taste Spencer.
“You got any lube?” Jon asks in Brendon’s ear.
“Yeah,” Brendon mutters, “Between the mattress and the bed frame.”
Jon reaches his hand down and pulls out a half-empty tube. “Busy?” he asks, smiling and biting Brendon’s cheek.
“It’s not like I always have three guys in my bed,” Brendon replies, as Jon squeezes some of the lube onto his fingers and hands it over to Spencer. Brendon turns to watch Spencer tug off Ryan’s pants and rub up and down his cock, but his eyes fall closed as Jon spreads his legs and pushes one short, thick finger in Brendon’s ass. Brendon gasps and shudders, rocking his hips back into Jon’s finger. Jon adds another finger, stretching Brendon a little.
Spencer’s squeezed some of the lube out and Ryan’s cock is slick and shiny with it. He’s lined up just behind Spencer, the head of his cock bumping at Spencer’s entrance. Spencer reaches over and grabs Brendon’s hand, squeezing it as Ryan pushes inside, just a little, just enough so Spencer’s stretched around him.
“Does it hurt?” Brendon asks because Jon’s added a third finger now and it’s starting to burn just a little, an uncomfortable ache. Spencer raises Brendon’s hand to his mouth and kisses Brendon’s fingers.
“Yeah, but it feels good,” Spencer replies and sucks Brendon’s fingers into his mouth, swirling his tongue around them. Brendon moans as Jon moves to loom over him and line his cock up to push inside Brendon.
Ryan’s moving, now, inside Spencer, setting up a steady pace so the bed is rocking. Jon pushes inside Brendon in one smooth motion. Brendon cries out, a scream that’s a combination of Jon’s name and Spencer’s. Jon’s big inside of him, large enough that it hurts just a little, but it feels so, so good when Jon hits his prostate dead on. Brendon imagines how Ryan feels inside Spencer, longer and thinner than Jon, but with the same hard rhythm.
Spencer lets Brendon’s fingers fall out of his mouth and Brendon moves his hand down to Spencer’s cock, seizing it, heavy and hard, in his hand. He jerks it, moving his hand up and down and squeezing just a little. Spencer’s panting and writhing and Ryan’s fucking him so, so hard and then he’s coming, all over Brendon’s hand and his stomach. Brendon jerks him through it and then moves his hand up to his mouth to lick off some of Spencer’s tongue. The taste isn’t pleasant, but it’s Spencer. Ryan reaches down to seize Spencer’s hips, holding them hard in his hand as he fucks Spencer hard and comes, body jerking, deep inside Spencer.
Jon comes next, leaning down to kiss Brendon hard, and Brendon could feel Jon’s cock twitching inside him. There’s a hand on Brendon’s cock, and Jon’s still fucking him, still hitting his prostate, and that must be Ryan’s hand on his cock, and it’s all too much for Brendon to handle. He comes, hard, his body twitching and writhing, screaming out wordlessly.
Then Jon’s rolling off of him, falling sweaty and spent on the bed next to Brendon. Ryan’s still half on top of Spencer and Spencer’s all pressed up against Brendon.
They’re all exhausted and no one cares that they’re sweaty and sticky and disgusting. They’re all half-asleep already.
“So,” Brendon murmurs sleepily, “That was pretty much the best Christmas present
****************************************************************************************

There were only two rules and they weren’t made to be broken. They were made to keep them safe and happy. Rule number one was that they didn’t talk about it to anyone except each other. They weren’t to go around talking about it to the press, other bands, fans, not even Pete. It was something they kept quiet. Not that it was a secret, but it getting out probably wouldn’t be the best idea.
The second rule was that it didn’t leave the group. This may have seemed similar to the first rule, but it wasn’t. It was between Ryan, Brendon, Spencer, and Jon. No one was invited in and no one went out. Subgroups could not be formed within the group. It wasn’t allowed.
Ryan and Spencer had started it back when Brent had still been in the band. But Brent didn’t like the idea, and though he’d never said it publicly (refer to rule one), it was why he’d left the group. So Ryan, Spencer, and Brendon had been left without a fourth.
When Jon Walker joined the band, they waited a while to tell him about the whole arrangement. Technically, he was an outsider, and as rule one stated, it couldn’t be talked about to him. But they had waited and watched, observed Jon’s actions until Spencer suggested that he was ready.
Jon had been surprisingly open to the whole idea. He’d just listened intensely as Spencer explained it, glancing only once to Ryan and Brendon, who sat in the background, their thighs pressed together on the small couch. When Spencer had finished, Jon had sat back, his fingertips pressed together, barely resting against his lips as he thought.
Spencer, Ryan, and Brendon had exchanged a careful glance, hoping they hadn’t made a huge mistake.
Jon had paused.
"It’s only the group?"
Spencer looked away from Ryan and nodded. "Yeah. No subgroups. No additions. No one else."
"So I can’t go out alone…?"
Spencer shrugged. "It’s for safety reasons-health reasons."
Jon nodded slowly, still looking thoughtful. "And you all-" He waved his hand vaguely at the three of them on the couch.
Spencer nodded. "Yeah."
"Often?"
A shrug. "I guess."
"How long?"
Spencer glanced at Ryan, who shrugged.
"Couple years."
"Just the three of you?"
"Yeah."
Jon looked at them for another second before sitting back. "All right."
So Jon had been in. He’d been informed of the rules, told how it worked, when it happened, all the things he needed to know, and everything worked.
**
"Ryan." Brendon plopped down on the couch next to Ryan, who was immersed in a thick book. He didn’t look up, only turned a page slowly and kept reading. Brendon sighed and laid his head on Ryan’s shoulder. "Ryan, I’m bored."
Ryan just made a vague noise, his eyes never flickering from the page. He could feel Brendon’s warm breath on his neck and it tickled slightly. He shifted his shoulder, trying to get Brendon to leave, but it did nothing.
"Ryan," Brendon whined, grabbing onto Ryan’s arm and tugging his sleeve lightly.
Ryan sighed softly. "Go find Jon or something."
"He and Spencer are working on bass lines or something." Brendon pouted. "I’m bored."
"You’re always bored," Ryan murmured, turning another page. "Go watch a movie."
"I don’t want to watch a movie," Brendon protested, scooting closer to Ryan on the couch. His hand was still on Ryan’s sleeve, but he was stroking up and down his arm softly as he buried his nose in Ryan’s neck. He’d always loved the way Ryan smelled, like strawberries and peppermint, two of his favorite things.
Ryan lifted his head from his book, a little frustrated. "Then go read a magazine. I thought I saw Nickelodeon Magazine around here somewhere."
Brendon pouted, hooking his leg over Ryan’s and shifting forward. His nose was buried in Ryan’s neck and he hummed contentedly. "I don’t wanna read."
Ryan sighed again. "Well, what do you want to do?"
Brendon paused, his fingers making their way up Ryan’s neck to stroke the hair at the nape of his neck softly. His tongue flicked out lightly, tasting Ryan’s neck for just a second before he moved his mouth to Ryan’s ear.
"Something that doesn’t involved books."
Ryan’s grip on his book slackened as Brendon’s teeth nipped at his earlobe. Brendon’s body was pressed against his side and Brendon’s free hand was toying with the waist of his shirt. He felt his eyes fluttering shut, but he forced them open.
"Bren…" he murmured, but was cut off when Brendon kissed him, turning his face for a better angle.
Ryan made a pleased sound, but broke away seconds later, leaving a glazed Brendon staring at him. Brendon opened his mouth to say something, but Ryan shook his head and pressed a finger to his lips. Brendon merely flicked his tongue over the tip of the finger.
Ryan smiled softly, but turned and called to the bunk area.
"Spencer, Jon, can you come out here?"
Brendon pouted impatiently, but leaned in, pressing kisses to Ryan’s jaw and neck as they heard the telltale signs of Spencer and Jon coming in from the bunks.
"What?" Spencer asked. "We were working on some important stuff."
Ryan just raised an eyebrow and nodded at Brendon, who was practically in his lap and still pressing kisses to his jaw.
Beside Spencer, Jon slid a hand down to his wrist and tugged him forward. Spencer let out a semi-annoyed sigh, but let himself be led forward by Jon. When Jon reached the couch, he leaned down to Brendon’s ear.
"Bren," he whispered and Brendon looked up at him.
Jon dropped Spencer’s wrist and leaned down to give Brendon a sweet kiss. Ryan didn’t protest when Brendon’s hand dropped to his lap as he kissed Jon and began pressing into his growing erection.
Spencer was still standing, his arms crossed, but they dropped as Ryan reached out and grabbed his shirt, tugging him forward. Their lips met in a short kiss, just a brush of the lips and dusting tongues. When they pulled away, Spencer’s eyes went to Jon and he pulled him away from Brendon, kissing him as well.
Brendon blinked slowly, looking dazed as he always did in these situations and turned back to Ryan, who let his hands drift to the waist of Brendon’s tee-shirt and stripped it off. Glancing up, he could see that Spencer’s shirt was already gone and Jon’s hands were all over his chest as he kissed him.
Brendon was watching them and made a little noise. Ryan’s hands were on Brendon’s belt as Spencer glanced over and smirked at Brendon. He pulled Jon to the couch and kissed Brendon softly. Brendon’s soft noise was echoed by Ryan’s groan as Brendon’s hand pressed sharply into his crotch.
Brendon broke the kiss and looked back to Ryan, already flushed beneath him. He just smiled and leaned into his neck, sliding his tongue over the smooth skin. Ryan groaned and let his eyes close as he felt Jon’s fingers in his hair, his calloused fingers sliding through the dark locks.
Spencer’s hands were on Jon’s belt, tugging it undone and the zipper along with it. His mouth was on the bulge in Jon’s boxers, bringing a moan to Jon’s lips and his other hand moved to Spencer’s head as well.
Brendon’s mouth found its way from Ryan’s neck to his mouth, his tongue sweeping over the inside of his mouth, his teeth nibbling on his lower lip. Brendon’s hands were fumbling over the button on Ryan’s jeans, tugging down the zipper a bit overzealously. He nearly broke it.
Ryan’s hips lifted off the couch as Brendon’s hands slid down the jeans. He opened his eyes and glanced over at Spencer and Jon, who were watching avidly, Spencer’s hand rocking almost methodically against Jon’s hard cock.
Jon crawled forward, kissing Brendon and then Ryan slowly. His hand took Brendon’s place, rocking into Ryan’s hard cock while Ryan motioned for Spencer.
Spencer moved quickly, joining the group and pulling Brendon to him for a long kiss. Brendon whimpered into the movement, enjoying the sharpness of Spencer’s kisses compared to Jon’s or Ryan’s. His teeth were on his lower lip, pulling, biting, nipping.
Jon’s boxers were gone and so were Ryan’s. Ryan rolled off the couch and the rest followed. He reached for Brendon and pulled him forward by his belt loops, hastily tugging down the zipper and shoving the jeans down.
Spencer had Jon pinned to the floor, but looked up as Ryan’s hand caressed his jaw softly and leaned in for a kiss. He pulled away and turned to Brendon for another, soft and slow.
"Fuck, Spencer," Jon groaned from under Spencer, arching his hips up, begging for contact.
Ryan and Spencer just laughed while Brendon plastered himself to Ryan, kissing every inch of bare skin he could find. Ryan’s laugh was cut short when Brendon bit his shoulder and he gasped. He glanced at Brendon to find a mischievous smile.
"Can I be on top today?" Brendon whispered eagerly into Ryan’s ear, his hands sliding over his bare shoulders and teasing around his waist.
"I don’t know," Ryan whispered back. "Why don’t you ask Spencer?"
Brendon looked confused for just a second before he turned to Spencer, who was still sitting on top of Jon, rocking his hips down mercilessly while Jon cursed underneath him. Spencer met his eyes, his own glazed in lust and he nodded.
"Yeah, Bren, you can top me today," he breathed roughly, letting out a rush of air as Jon’s erection rubbed against his own.
A flash of disappointment flashed across Brendon’s face, but only for just a second, and no one noticed. He shook it away and left Ryan, crawling over to Spencer and leaving a kiss on his shoulder.
Ryan watched for just a second before joining, pulling off Brendon’s boxers and tossing them in a corner. He rummaged under the couch and came out with a half-empty tube of lube and pressed it into Brendon’s palm with a kiss. Brendon’s eyes lingered on him for a second before he flipped the tube open.
After his fingers were slick, Spencer grunted something as he shifted, letting Jon struggle upward and out from underneath him.
"Get up," Spencer directed Brendon, rising to their feet, dragging Jon with them.
Brendon stayed close to Spencer’s back, letting a lubed finger glide down his spine slowly as they rearranged themselves. Spencer shivered and smiled at Brendon before grabbing the tube from him and snapping it open.
Jon stared back at them, shuddering at the darkness in Spencer’s eyes. He glanced at Ryan before him and pulled him in for a lingering kiss. Ryan’s hands were on Jon’s jaw as they kissed, but dropped as Jon let out a long moan.
Glancing behind him, Ryan could see Spencer pushing into Jon, Brendon doing the same behind Spencer. Spencer cursed loudly and Ryan took just a second before dropping to his knees before Jon.
Brendon bit his lip as he pressed his cock deep inside Spencer’s body. Spencer usually let him top, so did Jon, but Ryan never did. Ryan let Jon top him, and occasionally, Spencer, but never Brendon.
Everything was so hot, and as Brendon began to thrust, his gaze wandered to Ryan, on the ground before Jon, his mouth tight around Jon’s cock, bobbing in time with Spencer’s thrusts. He could see his hollowed cheeks and hear the hard moans issuing from Jon’s mouths. Brendon wondered if it was Ryan or Spencer who was causing them.
Everything always seemed to happen so quickly in these situations and soon, Jon was coming first. He groaned loudly as the heat inside exploded and his eyes closed, his mouth hanging open as he panted for breath. Ryan’s hand was on the base of his cock, squeezing and stroking as his tongue worked effortlessly to clean him off.
Spencer came just seconds later, pressing his nose into Jon’s back and a stream of curses falling from his lips. Brendon could feel his muscles tightening hotly around his cock and couldn’t hold back, gasping only slightly as he came hard.
Panting and blinking hard, Brendon came down and slowly pulled out of Spencer. Jon was lying on the ground now, looking tired but sated, a lazy smile on his lips. Ryan lay next to him, his hand working slowly to bring himself off. Brendon hesitated a second before crawling over and pushing away Ryan’s hand. Ryan didn’t protest, only closed his eyes and let Brendon’s hand work smoothly until his hips were arching and warm cum was covering Brendon’s fingers.
Ryan still didn’t open his eyes when Brendon pulled his hand away, but a contented smile spread across his lips. Spencer had already pulled himself onto the couch and was reading the back of Ryan’s book.
Brendon sat next to Ryan, staring at his hand.
"Still bored, Bren?" Ryan’s soft voice reached Brendon’s ears, but Ryan’s eyes were still closed.
"Not really."
"Good."
**
They didn’t get to stay in hotels often, and when they did, they always took complete advantage. They ordered room service, requested an X-box, got DVDs from the front desk, and spent the nights doing whatever they wanted.
They always shared two to a room, but most of the time they were all together anyway. This particular hotel stay, Ryan and Brendon were paired in one room while Spencer and Jon had another.
They ordered pizza and a few DVDs and settled in to a night of relaxation. The last week had been one venue after another with no time in-between. They were honestly exhausted and Ryan had no desire to do anything more than go to bed at a ridiculously early hour with Brendon in his own bed.
So they put in Pride and Prejudice (Brendon had picked it) and curled up on their own beds, although it wasn’t long before Brendon migrated to Ryan’s.
Spencer and Jon were in their own rooms, probably already asleep, and it was just Ryan and Brendon as they watched Keira Knightly appear on screen.
Brendon was snuggled against Ryan, his body warm and his eyes half-closed as he watched the movie. He lay with his head in Ryan’s lap as the movie played, blinking slowly as Ryan’s hands carded softly through his hair.
"Ryan?" Brendon murmured softly and Ryan just hmm’d. "What do you think’ll happen after?"
"After what?" Ryan asked, his voice quiet, as though he was close to falling asleep.
"After all this."
"All what?"
"You know, the records, the tours, the fame."
Ryan frowned slightly. "Who says it has to end?"
Brendon shrugged and pushed himself up slightly to look at Ryan. He settled himself into a sitting position and glanced at the TV screen where Mr. Darcy had just appeared for the first time. "Won’t it eventually?"
"It hasn’t for some bands. Just look at U2, Aerosmith, even Fall Out Boy."
"But we’re young."
"So were they… once." Ryan paused. "Don’t tell Pete I said that."
"What about the rest of it?"
"What do you mean?"
"I mean us. You, me, Spencer, Jon."
"What about us?"
Brendon sighed, resting his head against Ryan’s shoulder. "We won’t always be doing this, will we?"
Ryan tilted his head to look at Brendon. "I don’t know."
Brendon just nodded softly and stared at the screen. Ryan paused, staring at Brendon, then tilted his head towards him and pressed a soft kiss to his lips. He pulled away slowly, Brendon staring at him, looking confused.
Ryan turned back to the TV. "Just watch the movie, Bren."
Brendon stared at him for another second before sighing and looking ahead, his eyes staring unfocusedly at the screen.
**
No one really knew why it worked. It just did. They didn’t really talk about it amongst themselves. In the beginning, they used to discuss Jon, they used to talk about what they liked, what they didn’t, how they liked it. Now, it was just old hat. Everyone knew the rules, whether spoken or not.
If someone was in the mood, everyone had to be in the mood, or it didn’t happen. No outside guests, no subgroups. It was to keep the band safe. Everyone had always accepted these rules without argument and they worked.
But they didn’t talk anymore, really. They just talked about regular things: who drank the last Capri sun, how Leonardo DiCaprio’s career had disintegrated, that Brendon was the best Guitar Hero player in the world. That last one was often contested by Jon and Spencer as they spent hours playing on the bus as they rolled through the planes of the Midwest, the mountains of Colorado, the coast of California.
Ryan spent most of his time reading, only breaking when the group wanted to mess around a little. It was a healthy activity, he said.
When they got to Portland, Oregon for the halfway point in their concert, they got lucky and landed in a nice hotel for the night. Brendon grabbed Ryan as a roommate and dragged him upstairs.
As they lay on the bed, staring at the ceiling, Brendon sighed.
"I’m bored."
Ryan glanced over. "We could go out."
Brendon’s nose wrinkled slightly. "No."
"We could get a movie."
Brendon shook his head, staring at the blue-toned ceiling.
Ryan sighed and glanced the other way, out the window. "We could call Jon and Spencer."
Brendon was silent.
Ryan seemed to interpret his silence as not wanting to. He bit the inside of his cheek as he stared out the dark window. "Want to go swimming?"
"Swimming?"
Ryan could hear the note of interest in Brendon’s voice.
"Yeah. No one’ll be there. Want to?"
"Yeah," Brendon replied and Ryan heard him shift, climbing off his bed and searching for his swimming trunks.
It wasn’t long before they were traipsing down to the pool. It was an outdoor pool, and luckily it was heated, or it would have been very cold.
Ryan had been right and there was no one there. The water shimmered in the moonlight and the pale parking lot lights beyond. Ryan dropped his towel on a white lounge chair and slipped into the water, waiting for Brendon to join him.
Brendon toed off his sandals and moved carefully in the water. Usually, he was the one to canon ball in, but he just hadn’t felt like it lately. He slid up to his waist, watching as Ryan floated around the dark water, already immersed past his shoulders. Brendon stood in the shallow end, watching Ryan swim.
Ryan moved over to him, standing up and shivering as the cool air whipped his body.
"Come on in, Bren. That water’s fine," he whispered, just like in the old movies. He smiled and grabbed Brendon’s hand, pulling him deeper into the pool.
Brendon allowed himself to be tugged forward, the water creeping over the waist of his swim trunks and up his torso. Soon, he was in completely and treading water with Ryan in the deep end.
The water was dark and all Brendon could see was Ryan’s head and his shoulders moving as he stayed afloat. Ryan swam around Brendon, looking at him curiously.
"Is something wrong, Brendon?"
Brendon followed his movement, turning around to keep him in sight. "No," he replied, shaking his head.
Ryan raised an eyebrow and swam backwards to the edge of the pool. Stretching out his arms, he hauled himself out of the water slightly to rest on the edge. Brendon joined him seconds later, one hand grabbing onto the edge.
"Are you sure? You’ve been acting kind of weird lately."
Brendon paused, glancing out at the dark water, the surface lulling slightly in their movement. There was no noise except the distant rumble of cars on the main road near the hotel. The hotel was quiet and only a few lights were on in the rooms above them.
Ryan was watching him closely, his head tilted to the side slightly as he waited for his response.
Finally, Brendon sighed. "I don’t know."
"Well, what’s going on?" Ryan slid back into the water fully and turned to Brendon, holding onto the edge with one hand.
"I don’t know," Brendon muttered. "I just feel… I don’t know."
Ryan moved forward, running a wet hand through Brendon’s hair and pushing it back. He smiled softly. "It’s okay to not know."
Brendon didn’t look pacified, and only frowned, his gaze lowering to the black water. He stared at it for a second before glancing at Ryan, who was still fairly close, one hand on the pool ledge to keep himself steady.
"Ryan," Brendon murmured, reaching out in the water and pulling Ryan closer. It went much smoother in the water.
"Yeah?" Ryan asked when he was pressed against Brendon’s chest. His free hand was on Brendon’s neck, his thumb stroking down his throat softly.
Brendon just stared at him for a second, then leaned forward, pressing his lips against Ryan’s. It started out soft, just a brush of lips against lips, but Brendon opened his mouth, sweeping his tongue across Ryan’s lower lip, asking for entrance. He was granted it after a second and plunged his tongue inside.
Brendon’s lips were pressed hard against Ryan’s now, sealing their mouths together. His tongue melted with Ryan’s and his teeth pulled on Ryan’s lower lip.
Their bodies melded together and Brendon’s leg hooked around Ryan’s, pulling him as close as possible. His hand was on the back of Ryan’s neck, pressing him harder into the kiss.
"Bren," Ryan gasped between kisses, but Brendon didn’t let him get a word in edgewise, kissing him for all he was worth.
They continued like this for several minutes until Brendon’s hand slid down under the water to grab Ryan’s ass and pull him closer.
Ryan broke from the kiss suddenly, panting and flushed. Brendon’s eyes were filled with a familiar emotion and a not-so-familiar emotion. His lips were swollen and dark in the moonlight, and his mouth hung open slightly as he panted for breath. He stared at Ryan, searching his eyes.
"We can’t, Brendon," Ryan protested, pushing at his chest slightly. "Not without Spencer and Jon. I could go up and get them…"
"No," Brendon interrupted him, trying to kiss him again, but Ryan moved and he ended up only getting his jaw.
Ryan frowned, extracting himself from Brendon’s grip. "Um, I think I’m getting a cramp. You know, we just ate and swimming… bad idea."
He didn’t glance back as he swam to the other side of the pool and hauled himself out, grabbing his towel and disappearing inside. Brendon watched him go and sighed to himself. He hauled himself to the side of the pool, shivering as the cold wind wrapped around him. He sat there and stared at the glimmering water until the cold became too much.
When he reached the room that night, the lights were out and Ryan was already in bed, though as Brendon climbed into his own bed, he was sure Ryan wasn’t asleep.
**
Brendon’s eyes met Ryan’s from over Jon’s back as he slammed into him, taking out his frustration on a moaning Jon, his mind melted from the combined pressure of Brendon inside him and Spencer sucking his cock.
Ryan blinked as he thrust back inside Spencer’s body, then looked away, his hands going to Spencer’s hips to steady him. Brendon kept his eyes on Ryan until a sharp moan had his head snapping down.
He could feel the tight heat of Jon’s body as he moved inside him, thrusting hard, slamming his hips against Jon’s hearing the slap of skin against skin.
Jon was moaning softly, cursing when Spencer’s tongue flicked over his prick. Spencer was having trouble concentrating as Ryan moved inside him. He could feel Ryan’s long fingers stroking his hips softly, a sharp contrast to the way he was moving.
"Shit, Ry," Spencer choked out around Jon’s cock, reaching back and grabbing the back of Ryan’s thigh, squeezing tightly until his fingernails dug into the skin.
Ryan didn’t stop, though, only thrust in deeper, brushing against the spot inside Spencer that had his vision blurring. He pulled away from Jon’s cock as he bit down on his own lip.
"Spencer," Jon protested, grabbing his hair and pressing him forward. Spencer was panting harshly, but brought his hand to Jon’s cock, wrapping around the throbbing length and stroking with Ryan’s thrusts.
Brendon moved faster inside Jon, changing the angle sharply, knowing he’d hit the right spot as Jon cursed loudly, thrusting his hips into Spencer’s hand.
Brendon licked his lips, concentrating on his hips moving into Jon. His eyes flickered upward and he stared at Ryan from beneath his lashes. Ryan wasn’t looking at him, staring determinedly at Spencer’s hand on Jon’s cock, that was stroking haltingly.
Brendon saw Ryan’s face contract and his mouth drop open slightly, his head tilting back. The sight was too much and Brendon came amidst a stream of curses, his fingers bruising Jon’s hips as he thrust in hard, his hips finally jerking to a stop.
He didn’t pull out immediately, just took a long breath and lowered his head, closing his eyes.
He heard Jon gasp and felt his body tighten again as he came into Spencer’s hand. He heard the telltale sign of Ryan coming: the gasp, the short breath, the low moan, and the whispered fuck as it ended.
Brendon opened his eyes and carefully moved away from Jon, grabbing his jeans and flopping down on the couch. He watched as Jon picked himself up and pressed a kiss to Spencer’s lips, then Ryan’s. He glanced at Brendon on the couch and joined him, still naked.
Spencer stretched and climbed up off the floor, kissing Ryan’s cheek and snatching his shirt off the floor. "I’m gonna go clean up," he announced and turned to head towards the bathroom.
Ryan glanced after him, and after his glance flickered to Brendon, he turned and headed for the bunks.
Jon watched them go and turned to Brendon, who was tugging on his jeans. He got them up and buttoned but said nothing to Jon.
Jon paused. "How are you, Bren?"
"Fine." Brendon shrugged, crossing his arms over his chest.
"Yeah?" Jon shifted, grabbing his shirt off the floor and slipping it on. "You’re okay?"
"Of course." Brendon frowned. "Why wouldn’t I be?"
Jon shrugged, now pulling on his pants as well. "You’ve just been quiet lately, which is weird for you."
"Maybe I’ve just been thinking," Brendon snapped, then shut his mouth quickly. "I mean, I’m just tired."
Jon had looked taken aback for a second at Brendon’s sudden change, but merely frowned and slid an arm over Brendon’s shoulders. "Is this about the new album? Are you worried it’s not going to go over well?"
Brendon was silent for a minute. "Yeah, that’s it," he muttered.
Jon just smiled and hugged him closer. "Don’t worry. Someone will like it. My mother at least will buy one."
Brendon rolled his eyes but quirked a small smile anyway, which seemed to mollify Jon at the very least.
**
The next hotel they stayed at, Brendon wouldn’t admit that he was disappointed when Ryan jumped at the chance to room with Spencer instead of himself. Jon didn’t seem to notice or care, only grabbed his and Brendon’s suitcases and led the way to the third floor.
Their room was nice, fully-stocked with clean towels and shampoo. Brendon threw himself on the bed and stared at the ceiling as Jon went to take a shower. He could only hear the water running and sighed as he stared at the ceiling. It was a popcorn ceiling, white and boring.
Eventually, he sat up and turned on the television, numbing himself to the pain that throbbed deep inside his chest.
Jon came out a few moments later, water dripping down his chest and a white towel wrapped firmly around his waist. He got dressed and flopped down next to Brendon.
"What’re you watching?" he asked, grabbing the channels list from the bedside table and flipping it open.
Brendon just shrugged, changing the channel.
Jon glanced at him. "You want to do something tonight? Spencer was talking about going out to dinner or something."
Another shrug and the channel changed again.
Jon raised an eyebrow. "We could just order in and watch movies."
Shrug.
"All right. I’m going to go out with Spencer. You can come if you want."
Brendon didn’t reply and shut of the TV, laying on his back and staring upward. Jon frowned at him, but just shook his head and slid off the bed.
He paused at the door. "Are you sure you don’t want to come?"
Brendon just shook his head at the ceiling.
"Okay." Jon sighed. "I’ll be back later."
He left and the door clicked shut behind him. Brendon just sighed and rolled over onto his stomach, closing his eyes and pretending he was somewhere else.
It seemed like a long time, but it could only have been an hour after Jon left, that there was a soft knock on the door.
Brendon opened his eyes tiredly and glanced at the door, but made no motion to get up and answer it. He figured it was the maid or something. He closed his eyes again and settled in, trying not to think about anything.
There was another knock, louder this time and Brendon groaned as he looked at the door.
"Brendon?"
Brendon’s eyes widened as he heard Ryan’s voice through the door. He scrambled upward and to the door. Peering out the peephole, he could see Ryan standing in front of the door, frowning at it.
Brendon took a step back and opened it slowly.
"Hi," he said as the door opened to reveal Ryan.
"Hey," Ryan responded. He paused a second, then, "Can I come in?"
"Oh, yeah." Brendon stepped back quickly, allowing Ryan inside.
Brendon went back to his bed and sat down on it awkwardly, clasping his hands together to stop them from touching everything, a nervous habit.
Ryan moved inside, but stopped a few feet from Brendon. He was frowning and chewing on his lower lip.
Brendon felt like he should say something, but he didn’t know what.
Finally, Ryan moved over next to Brendon and sat down on the bed, a few feet away.
Ryan hesitated. "Uh, I’m sorry, Bren."
Brendon stared. "What?"
Ryan took a minute. "I’m sorry for acting like a jerk the past couple weeks. I just was surprised."
"Oh." Brendon didn’t know what to say. It wasn’t exactly what he wanted to hear, but it was better than nothing.
"Yeah." Ryan nodded as though that fixed everything. "So you wanna watch a movie?"
Brendon shook his head. He glanced at Ryan and stared. He could see almost everything from his proximity: the sharp curve of Ryan’s nose, how his hair fell in his eyes, the scar by his eye he’d gotten when he’d been hit in the face with a microphone stand during their first real concert.
Ryan glanced at him, the corners of his mouth tugging downward and his eyebrows furrowing.
"What?" he asked.
Brendon hesitated before scooting closer to Ryan and covering his hand with his own. Ryan frowned at the gesture, but didn’t say anything. Brendon stared at him for a good minute before he leaned forward, pressing his lips to Ryan’s.
He crawled forward, never pulling his lips from Ryan’s, moving so he was straddling Ryan’s lap.
Ryan’s hands were resting lightly on Brendon’s chest, as though he was going to push him away, but he didn’t. He let Brendon kiss him, deepening the kiss, his tongue sliding into his mouth.
Brendon moved tentatively, tugging at Ryan’s lower lip as he slid into his lap. He was unsure of what Ryan was going to do.
When Brendon’s hands moved, one going to the back of Ryan’s neck and the other to his waist, Ryan pulled away with a noise of disagreement.
"Brendon," he breathed, licking his lips and staring at Brendon. "We can’t do this."
"Yes, we can," Brendon murmured, pressing soft kisses to Ryan’s jaw and his neck.
Ryan shook his head and tried to push Brendon away. "No, it’s-Jon and Spencer-"
Brendon just made a noise against Ryan’s throat and moved upward, kissing him hard again. He didn’t want to think about Jon and Spencer.
Ryan pushed him away again, breaking the kiss sharply. "You’re breaking the rules."
Brendon stared at him for a minute, his face in a frown. He bit his lip as he thought, then moved forward again, his nose bumping against Ryan’s, and his breath warm on Ryan’s lips. "Then break them with me," he whispered, "please?"
He looked up hopefully, swallowing hard as he waited with bated breath for Ryan’s response. He could feel Ryan’s breath ghosting over his lips. He closed his eyes as he waited, not wanting to see the rejection in Ryan’s eyes, that he knew was forthcoming.
He was surprised, then, when Ryan’s hand went to his neck and pushed him forward, their lips meeting in a heated kiss that had Brendon’s mind reeling.
Brendon practically fell on top of Ryan, pressing his body into the mattress as they kissed. It was much better this way, just the two of them, no competing attention. His hands were everywhere, pushing up Ryan’s shirt, only to get distracted by his jeans, fumbling with the zipper and the button.
Ryan was making soft noises, impatient noises, as his hands grabbed at the hem of Brendon’s shirt, peeling it over his head and throwing it away. Brendon struggled to focus on one thing, abandoning the now undone button on Ryan’s jeans and pulling his shirt up and over his head.
Ryan dragged Brendon forward on top of him, sealing their lips together in a desperate kiss that Brendon hoped conveyed every emotion he’d never been able to say to Ryan. Ryan was lucky, he thought. He could put anything he wanted into his songs and no one would question it.
Brendon’s hands were back at Ryan’s zipper, tugging it down and shoving the jeans along with it. He worked hard to continue kissing Ryan, biting his lips, pushing his tongue against Ryan’s. He wanted to remember every minute of this.
He broke away only to gasp for air, then went immediately for Ryan’s neck. Ryan’s hand was in his hair, tangled deep in the brown locks. He gave a low groan as Brendon’s hand ghosted up his chest, stopping briefly to twist a nipple.
His body arched upward and Ryan let out a low breath. "Shit, Bren," he whispered, tilting his neck back so Brendon had better access.
Brendon shifted, his legs straddling Ryan’s and his hips digging down, grinding his own erection into Ryan’s. He heard the groan Ryan gave and felt a wave of relief spread down his spine. He nipped Ryan’s jaw and pressed kisses down his neck, over his collar bone, and slid down his body, leaving little licks as he went until Ryan was practically melting underneath him.
He reached the waist of Ryan’s boxers and paused, staring at the bulge in them. He’d seen it before, many times, but it was different this time.
"Shit, Brendon," Ryan cursed. "Are you going to stare at it or do something about it?"
Brendon blinked and smirked, glancing at Ryan and licking his lips. The sight had Ryan’s head falling back and a muttered, "oh fuck" falling from his lips.
Brendon’s fingers rested tentatively at the elastic of the boxers, and he tugged them down half an inch, leaning in and pressing his mouth to Ryan’s hip bone, swirling his tongue over the skin, nipping at the taut flesh. Ryan’s hand was still in Brendon’s hair, and he gave it an impatient tug as if to remind Brendon what he was doing.
Brendon moved faster, removing the boxers completely and sliding his mouth down to Ryan’s eager cock that waited for him. Taking it in his hand, he stroked softly, his mouth hovering just inches away.
Glancing up at Ryan, he kept a careful watch on him as he moved, sliding his hand over the hard length. He could see Ryan’s fingers curling around the sheets as Brendon moved.
Pausing just a second, Brendon moved in, flicking his tongue over the head. The groan Ryan gave was enough encouragement and he took the length in his mouth.
Ryan’s knuckles were white as he clutched at the sheets now, encouraging Brendon to go faster, don’t stop.
Brendon moved quickly, sliding his mouth over Ryan’s cock, his hand pumping the base with every movement he made. He could hear Ryan’s harsh breaths and knew it wouldn’t be long. He sucked hard, wanting to give Ryan as much pleasure as possible.
He heard the gasp, the short breath, and glanced up as Ryan moaned softly. He didn’t pull away, even though he knew it was coming. Seconds later, Ryan’s hips were arching off the bed as he came hard, the muttered "fuck" lost to Brendon’s ears.
Brendon pulled away after a second, sliding his tongue over Ryan’s inner thigh, leaving a nip on the sensitive skin before crawling over Ryan’s body to kiss him thoroughly. Ryan didn’t protest and let his fingers rest on Brendon’s jawbone as they kissed, their noses pressed together, their hips rubbing against each other.
Ryan broke away from the kiss and glanced down to where Brendon was still painfully hard against his thigh. Brendon looked up at him hopefully and was surprised when Ryan grabbed him by the belt loops and pulled him further on top, then proceeded to undo his jeans and push them to the floor.
Brendon swallowed nervously as Ryan leaned over the edge of the bed, rummaging in Brendon’s bag for what he knew would be there. He came back out with a tube of lube, which he pressed into Brendon’s hand.
"Really?" Brendon asked in a hushed voice and Ryan nodded.
With shaking hands, Brendon unscrewed the cap and spread it over his fingers, pressing one into Ryan’s body carefully.
He could feel the muscles tense around his fingers and he shifted, pulling Ryan’s legs up over his shoulders and sliding a second finger through the thick ring of muscles. Ryan didn’t look nervous, but his mouth fell open as Brendon prepared him.
Finally, Brendon removed his fingers and rolled on a condom, slicking up his cock with lube and moving forward, pressing the tip to Ryan’s entrance.
Ryan’s eyes closed and his teeth bit down on his lower lip hard as Brendon pushed inside. His hips shifted as he tried to get comfortable.
Brendon could tell he was holding his breath, so he leaned forward, brushing his lips against Ryan’s jaw. "It’s okay," he whispered. "Ryan."
Ryan nodded jerkily, releasing his lip and opening his eyes. "Just move, Bren," he urged him, grabbing a hold of his hips and angling them differently.
Brendon nodded quickly, taking a breath and moving back, beginning to thrust in and out. He’d never been inside Ryan before and it was a completely different experience. His body was tight and the heat of his muscles had the usual tingling feeling flaring through Brendon’s body.
He thrust in quicker now, moving his hips down to meet Ryan’s, ignoring the slight prick of pain from Ryan’s fingernail digging into his hips. It was worth it.
Leaning forward, he dragged his lips along Ryan’s collar bone, trailing his tongue over the flushed skin, nipping at Ryan’s neck, pressing his tongue against his pounding pulse. His body moved swiftly, thrusting into Ryan, changing the angle until he knew he’d hit the right spot that had Ryan cursing loudly and arching into Brendon.
Brendon knew it wouldn’t be long now. He could feel the heat pooling in his stomach as he moved within Ryan, sliding their hips together. He pressed desperate kisses to Ryan’s neck, his throat, his jaw, his ear, anywhere he could reach. He was pleased when Ryan brought his mouth to his for a kiss that sent tingles down his spine.
Brendon only broke away to gasp loudly and grit his teeth as he came hard, his head tilting back as his hips continued to thrust recklessly. His groan was matched by Ryan as he reached his climax and was blinded by a shower of white stars before his visions finally returned to normal and he collapsed on the bed next to Ryan.
Brendon’s face was pressed into the clean pillow that smelled of laundry detergent. He breathed in deeply, hearing nothing from Ryan. Finally, he rolled over, staring at the ceiling. Ryan was sitting up, staring at the black television screen.
"How long?"
The question lingered in the air and Brendon glanced over. Frowning, he looked away as Ryan looked at him.
"A few months, maybe a year," he admitted quietly.
"A year?" Ryan repeated incredulously.
Brendon shrugged awkwardly on the bed and said nothing. He stared at Jon’s suitcase on the other side of the room and felt a pang of guilt.
Ryan was shaking his head and sighed. "We broke the rules, Brendon. We can’t do that again."
Brendon sat up suddenly, staring at Ryan. "That’s it? We can’t do it again? Don’t you even care?"
Ryan stared at Brendon for a second before glancing away and shaking his head again. "We can’t do it."
Brendon stared at Ryan, searching for something, anything, that would indicate Ryan meant more than he said. He reached out for Ryan’s hand. "But, Ryan-"
"No, Brendon," Ryan said, taking his hand away and finally looking at him again. His eyes were dark but gave nothing away. "It’s not good for the band."
"But…"
"We should just forget it."
Brendon felt hurt more than anything, crushed. He waited for Ryan to say something more, but when nothing came, blinked and looked down at his hands. "I’m gonna go take a shower," he mumbled instead and rose from the bed, leaving Ryan behind.
**
The next few weeks were oddly cold and silent on Brendon’s part. Everyone noticed something was wrong, although only Ryan knew the real reason. Brendon didn’t say why when Jon or Spencer asked. He refused to participate in the "group activities" anymore, which meant that none of them could.
This made for a very sexually frustrated band, and a pouty Brendon. Not a good combination.
Spencer was the first to say something. One day when Ryan and Jon were in the bunks working on new music, Spencer joined Brendon on the couch where he was watching Aladdin. He took up most of the couch with his entire body spread over it, but Spencer shoved his feet up and sat down.
He waited a second before glancing at Brendon. Brendon’s eyes had never left the screen as Spencer had sat down. His stare was oddly blank and he wasn’t even singing along with the songs like he usually would have.
He was just curled up with his arm under his head as he stared blankly ahead. He merely blinked as Spencer nudged him.
"Brendon," Spencer said, poking his leg. Brendon did nothing. Spencer frowned and poked him harder. "Brendon."
"Hmm," was Brendon’s only response.
Spencer sighed and rubbed his face. This was going to be harder than he thought. He’d never dealt with this type of Brendon before, except when they’d first started and Brendon’s parents had kicked him out, but then, Ryan had worked some sort of magic to help him. Now, it seemed that Brendon didn’t want to talk to Ryan.
"You okay, Bren?"
A muffled "meh" was all that Spencer got in response. Spencer frowned.
"What’s wrong?" Spencer asked. "And don’t say nothing ‘cause it’s obviously more than that."
Brendon shifted on the couch, curling his legs up to his chest and staring at the TV. "I can’t tell you."
"Why not?" Spencer demanded.
"’Cause you wouldn’t understand, and then you’d get mad at me."
Spencer frowned. "I would not get mad at you."
"Yes, you would," Brendon mumbled to his knees, snuggling into the couch cushion as much as he could.
"When have I gotten mad at you for something you did?"
"Every day."
Spencer paused. "Okay." He sighed. "That doesn’t mean I will for this. Besides, you’ve been acting really weird. You don’t sing on the bus, you haven’t had a Red Bull for weeks and I haven’t seen you play Guitar Hero in forever!"
"And that’s bad?" Brendon’s tone was scarily monotonous, almost identical to Ryan’s.
"No, but it is for you!"
Brendon just shrugged, hugging his knees closer and watching Aladdin woo Princess Jasmine.
Spencer huffed at the fact that Brendon wasn’t responding to him.
"Brendon, just tell me what’s going on. I promise not to get mad."
Brendon just shook his head. "I can’t."
"Why not?" Spencer pressed, annoyed. "What is so bad that you can’t tell me or Jon or Ryan about it? What happened? You were fine one day, and the next, you act like someone ran over your puppy or something."
Brendon said nothing, keeping his eyes resolutely on the TV. Spencer waited, but in the end, sighed in frustration and rose from the couch.
"Fine, be mopey and annoying. But it better not last much longer or we’ll have to do something about it."
Another shrug was all Spencer got and he growled before stalking out of the room. Brendon merely turned up the volume on the television.
**
"You know," Jon said thoughtfully as he stared at the black canopy of his bunk, "if we didn’t have these rules, we wouldn’t be in this predicament."
"What predicament?" Spencer grunted from his bunk below. Ryan just glanced over from his own bunk.
Brendon was out in the living room area watching yet another movie. It felt as though they’d watched their entire collection of DVDs at least twice in the past two weeks, but that didn’t stop Brendon from putting on the Lord of the Rings for the third time.
Jon rolled over, hanging his head over to edge to look at Spencer. He raised an eyebrow.
"You jerking off in your bed instead of fucking me or Ryan," Jon replied.
Spencer scowled but didn’t remove his hands from underneath his jeans. "The rules are there for a reason."
"Yeah, so when Brendon gets into whatever funk this is, none of us can get any."
Ryan merely glanced away and said nothing.
"So you’re suggesting we just throw out rule number two after all this time?" Spencer gave a small gasp as his hand twisted suddenly.
Jon sighed and returned to staring at the canopy. "Well, it might work better. I don’t know about you, but even Zach’s starting to look good."
"Ew," Spencer replied and Ryan frowned.
"Well!" Jon shrugged. "What are we supposed to do? Brendon won’t tell us what’s wrong."
"Maybe we can persuade him."
Jon raised an eyebrow at the ceiling. "I don’t think that’s going to work. It’s been weeks."
"So you just want to throw it out all together?" They heard Spencer’s muffled gasp but ignored it.
Jon sighed. "I don’t know. Maybe it’d be easier."
"So you want to go outside?" Ryan finally spoke up, a note of curiosity in his voice. They heard Spencer stop moving as he listened closely.
Jon looked at Ryan and frowned, glancing away. "No. I didn’t say that. I just meant, it could be the three of us if, you know, Brendon gets like this again."
"And if he doesn’t get like this again?" Ryan asked, an eyebrow arched.
Jon shrugged. "Then it would be fine, right?"
"Right," Ryan echoed quietly. "No subgroups."
Jon paused, glancing at Ryan and then below at Spencer, who was biting his lower lip as his hand moved swiftly beneath his jeans.
"Well, maybe we could just amend it."
"What does-that mean?" Spencer asked haltingly, lifting his hips slightly.
Jon hesitated. "Maybe we should allow group break-offs… for the time being."
Ryan frowned but said nothing. The sound of the television leaked through the thin walls and he heard Gandalf yelling something.
"It’s w-worked fine all this time," Spencer replied instead, moaning softly as his hand stroked carefully.
"Uh huh," Jon said unamusedly, "and that’s why you’re down there by yourself."
Spencer scowled and rolled his eyes. "Well, you could come help."
"Not according to rule number two."
Spencer sighed and looked at Ryan in the next bunk, who said nothing and merely stared at the ceiling.
"We’ll think about it," he said finally and bit his lip as he came quietly in his own hand.
Jon just shook his head. "Think quickly."
**
"Hey, Brendon." Spencer smiled at Brendon as he approached.
Brendon just glanced up from the television. "Hi."
Spencer paused a second before taking a seat next to Brendon. "So how are you feeling today?"
Brendon just shrugged, his eyes flickering to Ryan and Jon, who stood in the doorway to the living room. Ryan wasn’t looking at Brendon and Jon was watching him carefully.
Spencer scooted closer. "Listen, Brendon, please, will you just say yes? I mean, you won’t have to do anything, I promise. You can just sit there and we’ll do all the work. For God’s sake, it’s been a month! Brendon, you’re killing us, you realize that, right?"
Brendon glanced at Spencer, seeing the desperation in his eyes. He frowned and looked at his hands in his lap.
"Yeah," he muttered finally and Spencer sighed in relief that he understood.
"Okay, well, will you please agree? I promise you won’t have to do anything. I just-we just-need release. And we can’t do it without you."
"Because of rule number two," Brendon muttered, more to himself than anything, although Spencer caught it.
"Yeah," Spencer said, looking at Brendon closely. "So will you?"
Brendon paused a minute, still staring at his hands, before he nodded, almost minutely. He heard Spencer’s sigh of relief.
"Thank you, Brendon," he said sincerely, motioning Ryan and Jon over.
Brendon didn’t say anything and barely paid attention as it started. He watched them all kiss, turned away when Ryan kissed Spencer and then Jon. He sat on the couch as they removed their clothes and his, Jon’s calloused fingers brushing over his skin as he pulled the shirt off. He fought back the shiver and stared at the television screen where Ariel was kissing the Prince.
He felt mouths on his skin, lips on his chest, but he closed his eyes and didn’t look. He opened his eyes when the lips pulled away and he heard the rustle of clothing, the rummaging under the couch.
They were kissing again and when Ryan moved to Brendon, Brendon turned his face just as Ryan leaned in, his lips landing on his cheek instead. Spencer paused for a second, but Jon’s mouth was on his neck, and he wasn’t going to let the opportunity pass now that they’d finally gotten Brendon to agree.
Brendon forced his eyes away from Ryan as he moved back, not wanting to see his face. He let Spencer nudge him off the couch, removing his jeans as he did so. He didn’t notice what was happening around him, but soon felt the familiar flash of pain as Spencer pressed a finger into his body. Jon was before him, his cock already half in his mouth.
Brendon’s back arched and he bit back the tears welling in the corners of his eyes. He gasped as Spencer pushed in and Jon’s tongue slid over his cock. He couldn’t see Ryan and knew he was probably behind Spencer from the way Spencer was breathing and moaning, pressing hot kisses to Brendon’s spine.
Brendon grabbed Jon’s shoulder to keep him upright as Spencer pounded in, the slap of skin against skin echoing in the bus, barely audible over the happy music as the credits rolled on the TV.
He let out a shuddering breath as he came in Jon’s mouth, a blush of shame tingeing his cheeks, but he hid it as Jon glanced up at him, a satisfied expression on his face. Brendon hung his head, his hips still moving with Spencer’s as he drove into him, needing that release he’d been denied for over a month.
Brendon closed his eyes as he heard Ryan coming, that same sound he’d memorized a long time ago. He felt Spencer come a minute later, deep inside him. When Spencer finally pulled out, Brendon extricated himself from the pile and slunk into the bunk area.
Spencer, Jon, and Ryan watched him go silently. Spencer sighed and glanced at Jon, who still hadn’t gotten off. With one last glance at the bunks, he crawled over, kissing Jon softly. "Let me take care of that."
Ryan stood then and turned, disappearing into the kitchen. Spencer watched him go with suspicious eyes before turning back to the task at hand.
**
"I’ve figured it out."
Ryan looked up from where he was playing a video game on the hotel television. It was some crappy game, the only one the front desk had had. Ryan was sitting cross-legged, the controller in his hands as Spencer came in from the shower.
"Oh yeah?" Ryan asked distantly as he turned back to the television while Spencer changed clothes.
"Yep," Spencer replied simply. "You, or well, maybe not you, but Brendon, is in love with you."
"What?!" Ryan’s head jerked around so quickly, he winced and raised a hand to the now shooting pain in his neck. He stared at Spencer, though, as he rubbed his neck. "Are you crazy?"
"Nope. I’m right."
Spencer plopped down on the bed and grabbed a bag of chips from the nightstand, tearing them open and popping one into his mouth.
"You are not," Ryan argued, scowling. "How would you know? Did he tell you that?"
Spencer scoffed and smiled. "Of course not. He’s almost as bad as you now. But I saw what happened last week."
"Nothing happened last week," Ryan grumbled, turning resolutely back to the game.
"Right," Spencer said, his tone disbelieving. "He just completely ignores you, except when he’s staring at you."
"He does not."
"Yes, he does," Spencer replied firmly. Pausing, he looked thoughtful. "What do you think of rule number two, Ryan?"
Ryan frowned, punching the game controller harder than necessary. "It’s fine," he muttered.
"Really? You don’t agree with Jon and think that maybe we should get rid of it?"
Ryan just shrugged, frowning at the television screen.
"I think Brendon would like to get rid of it."
"Well, then go ask Brendon!" Ryan snapped.
"I’m asking you."
Ryan closed his eyes briefly and opened them to stare at the screen. He heard Spencer sliding off the bed and didn’t look over when he joined him on the floor, removing the controller from his hands and pausing the game.
Ryan sighed. "I don’t know, okay?"
There was a pause in which Spencer looked at Ryan closely, then his eyes widened and his mouth opened slightly.
"Did you already break the rule?"
Ryan’s eyes widened. "It was Brendon’s idea," he said quickly. Spencer just gave him a look and Ryan sighed. "Okay, so maybe I agreed. But I told him it wouldn’t happen again."
"Why not?"
Ryan stared. "Because of the rule!"
Spencer just shook his head. "Ryan, rules can be changed."
"Now you say that," Ryan scoffed. He groaned. "Spencer, what am I going to do?"
Spencer just shook his head. "Talk to Jon." Ryan looked confused but Spencer just nodded. "Let’s go get him now."
He hauled Ryan to his feet, the video game forgotten on the TV, and they headed out to find Jon.
**
"Brendon, we need to talk."
Brendon’s expression went from blank to panic in six seconds flat as he looked up at Jon, Ryan, and Spencer, all standing in front of him as he lay on the couch, Aladdin on replay for the fourth time that week. Scrambling up on the couch, Brendon glanced between them all.
"What?" he asked urgently. "What happened?"
"You," Spencer replied simply and Brendon’s eyes widened to the size of saucers.
"Are you kicking me out of the band?!" he asked in a hysteric voice.
"No," Spencer reassured him quickly, seeing the panic in his eyes. "Of course not. We’ve just… come to a decision, and we thought you should know."
Brendon’s heart calmed slightly, but he could still feel it pounding against his ribcage as he looked from Spencer to Jon and to Ryan, who lingered a little behind Jon.
"What?"
Spencer paused, glancing at Jon. "We’ve been talking, and we think it’s time for a revision of the rules."
Brendon’s eyebrows furrowed. "The rules?"
"Well, rule number two," Spencer amended.
Brendon frowned and glanced at Ryan, looking for some sort of confirmation, but Ryan wasn’t looking at him, just dragging his toe in a circle on the carpet.
"What’s wrong with it?" he muttered instead, lowering his gaze to the floor.
"It’s outdated," Spencer stated simply. "We’ve changed. You’ve changed."
"I haven’t changed." Brendon’s mumble was barely audible over the television.
Spencer sighed. "Yeah, you have. We can all tell. Listen, Bren, we know how you feel about Ryan."
Brendon’s head snapped up as he stared at Spencer. Jon was just nodding and Ryan refused to meet his eyes.
"I don’t-I mean, it’s nothing important," Brendon protested. "I can stop. I don’t wanna ruin anything. Really. I don’t-about Ryan-he’s not… we’re not. I didn’t mean…"
"It doesn’t matter." Spencer glanced at Ryan, who was pointedly avoiding everyone’s gaze. "Rule number two is now obsolete. You can do whatever you want with anyone you want."
Brendon just stared. "But what about… everything? You, and Jon, and Ryan and everybody?"
Spencer just shrugged. "It’s easier this way. You can do what you want and not have to worry about everyone else."
"But-"
"Brendon," Spencer interrupted him. "I’m giving you an opportunity here, now take it." He stood up and glanced at Jon, pausing. He looked back at Brendon on the couch, staring at his hands. "Now, since we don’t have that rule anymore, Jon and I will be in the back if you need something, although I recommend you don’t."
He and Jon turned and left Ryan and Brendon alone in the living room, with only the Genie and Aladdin for company. Brendon didn’t say anything and stared at the floor.
Ryan shuffled his feet nervously before approaching Brendon and joining him on the couch.
"So, Spencer says you love me," Ryan offered finally, his voice quiet.
Brendon sort of shrugged. "What does it matter?"
"It matters a lot."
Brendon sighed and glanced up at Ryan for a second.
"I’m sorry, Brendon."
"For what?" Brendon went back to staring at his shoes.
"For… for not caring. I just, I wasn’t expecting that when you said it had been a whole year that you’d wanted to. We weren’t supposed to, you know?"
"I know."
"But there’s no rule two now," Ryan said, a note of hope in his voice as he watched Brendon carefully.
Brendon merely shrugged.
"We could… If you wanted. If you forgave me."
Brendon sighed softly. "I’m not mad at you."
"You’re not?"
"No. I’m mad at myself for thinking that I could have changed anything."
"But you did," Ryan insisted. "You got Spencer to change the rule, and you know how he loves rules."
Brendon shook his head. "It’s minor victory, but not what I wanted."
"Well, what did you want? Brendon, I don’t understand." Ryan stared at him plainly. "I thought you wanted us to be able to… be together or whatever. Isn’t that what you wanted?"
"I didn’t want all this hassle. I didn’t want people to have to change what they wanted for me."
"Oh, Brendon." Ryan sighed. "Sometimes I think you’re too nice."
Brendon frowned. "That’s a bad thing?"
"When you never go for what you want, yes," Ryan replied, turning to Brendon and pulling him forward into a surprised kiss.
Brendon was shocked but happy when Ryan kissed him, holding his face close, his thumbs stroking his jaw. He relaxed into the kiss easily, opening his mouth for Ryan’s tongue to slip inside.
When they finally parted, Brendon felt winded, even though it had been a small kiss.
Ryan swallowed and glanced at Brendon, his mouth curving into a smile.
Brendon paused. "So I should do what I want more often?"
"It might get you more things," Ryan murmured as Brendon leaned in again.
Brendon smiled. "I like that idea." Then he kissed Ryan again as the bus rumbled through the Midwest and golden plains flurried past.
*****************************************************************************
Sometimes Brendon was a genius. A fucking genius, man. Like the first time he thought maybe Ryan Ross was just a little gay for him - among others - and then randomly kissed him after practice. Only, it wasn’t so random, because it had been on his mind for weeks before that, and apparently Ryan really did taste like sugar and lip gloss.
So when Brendon called Pete up and told him his latest brilliant idea, he wasn’t surprised at all when Pete just laughed, “Go for it, man,” into the phone. Because Brendon Urie? He’s on top of things, he’s with it, he’s a motherfucking cool cat and all that jazz.
The actual getting a tattoo part was less than awesome, though. Because apparently his skin didn’t like being poked with needles and ink and whatever else happened during the space of time that Brendon claimed to have lost. His mind went all fuzzy with glee and awesomeness, and all he can remember is grinning like mad and trying to look cool in front of the cameras.
Mission accomplished.
But once the whole process was over, he couldn’t get enough of it; couldn’t stop staring at his left forearm and mentally rambling about how cool it is. Brendon could write sonnets about his forearm. It’s that awesome.
Especially when he had his left hand wrapped around his cock, pumping slowly in time to the music in his headphones. There weren’t any words, just the lucid tones of his songs being played on strings, and that was almost as cool as his tattoo. Almost.
Brendon bit down on his lip, hard enough to make it bleed, and struggled to keep his eyes open. He was close, knew it wasn’t going to last long when he was watching the muscles beneath his newly inked skin moving. They were mesmerizing in the way they stretched out the ink, little ripples of movement as his fingers worked up and down his dick.
Brendon rubbed his thumb over the head of his cock and bit back a whimper, his body stiffening as he came, coating his fingers and thighs. He fell back against his pillow, grinning as he came down from orgasm, still feeling the last tremors coursing through his veins.
Sometimes Brendon was a genius.
--
Brendon had a habit - more of an addiction - of making spur of the moment decisions. Most of the time, though, they worked in his (and Ryan’s) favor. The tattoo though? So very unwise. Ryan got that it was Brendon’s instrument of choice and he was making some huge statement about his life as a musician.
The thing is, it really fucked up with the ascetics of Brendon’s forearm.
Brendon could mess with makeup or clothing as much as he wanted, but now he had gone and changed himself. As much as Ryan tried to play it off as something miniscule and insignificant, he flat out did not like it. It got in the way of his fingers; blocked his skin from touching Brendon’s.
He knew it was illogical and just plain weird, but he couldn’t get over the way Brendon had just nonchalantly marred his body. Pete Wentz could think it was as cool as he wanted to, but it wasn’t Brendon. Ryan couldn’t help noticing the way the skin felt foreign beneath his palms.
Perhaps dirtying Brendon’s forearm even more wasn’t the best revenge, but it’s all Ryan had. So when Brendon was on his knees, bruised lips wrapped around Ryan’s cock, all he could think about - beyond the wetness of Brendon’s mouth - was marking him, remarking him to cover up any newfound imperfections.
At the last second, Ryan pulled out, ignoring Brendon’s confused look and taking his cock in his own hands. Brendon’s fingers were still digging into his hips, his nails leaving tiny half-moon marks on Ryan’s skin. He chewed on his lower lip and worked his hands faster, already feeling the orgasm building at the base of his spine.
Ryan shifted his hips, grunting as he exploded in thick bursts across the colorful skin of Brendon’s forearm. Brendon looked up at him, blinking slowly as he took in the mess on his arm.
“Fuck yeah,” he muttered in awe. Brendon smirked and held up his arm, licking tentatively at what he could reach. He looked so damn pleased with himself that Ryan could only sigh and roll his eyes.
Maybe he wasn’t cut out for the whole revenge thing after all.
--
“I’m not going to ask about it,” Spencer growled after the eight hundredth time - he was totally counting - Brendon waved his arm in front of Spencer’s face. He had eyes, damn it. He could see that Brendon had once again gotten wrapped up in some moment only he knew about and gone and done something stupid.
Ok, so maybe not stupid so much as surprisingly hot.
Not that Spencer would ever tell him that, because Brendon didn’t even have the courteously to tell him about the freaking tattoo. He just kept flailing his arm around and making puppy dog eyes in Spencer’s direction.
“I feel like a scorned woman,” Brendon started, cut off when Spencer started chuckling at him. “Hear me out,” Brendon said after he calmed down. “It’s like a haircut that nobody noticed. I’m the damaged party here.”
“You’re damaged alright,” Spencer told him without looking away from the tv.
“It’s hot,” Brendon said, and Spencer could hear the pout in his voice. As adorable the pouting was, he’d never tell Brendon.
“Fine,” Spencer finally conceded. “It’s outrageously hot and I don’t think I’ve ever been this attracted to you in my entire life. Oh, boy!”
“It doesn’t count if you’re mocking me,” Brendon complained. But he crawled across the couch and settled in Spencer’s lap. Spencer could feel the hard press of his erection against his thigh and leaned into the touch. “Now you have to make it up to me,” Brendon whispered before bending down and closing his mouth over Spencer’s.
They didn’t even get undressed, just quickly shoved their jeans down far enough so they could touch, really touch, no clothing in between. Brendon straddled Spencer’s lap, rocking his hips in time with Spencer’s. He bit down on Spencer’s lower lip, whimpering into his mouth as their cocks slid together.
Brendon was surprisingly quiet as he came, muffling his cries against Spencer’s shoulder. And when Spencer followed him seconds later, he shouted, a hoarse cry that filled the hotel room.
Their come coated his stomach, and he was pretty sure they could actually end up stuck like that, but it was kind of perfect. They sat there, Brendon still shivering in Spencer’s lap, until Spencer could move again. He chose not to, just picking up Brendon’s arm, his fingers gingerly wrapped around Brendon’s wrist. He studied the piano keys, pursing his lips as he took in the shading and the way Brendon’s muscles moved beneath the inked skin.
“It suits you,” he mumbled.
He could feel Brendon’s grin against the side of his neck.
--
Brendon had been weird lately. Jon may not be the most observant person in the world, but he could tell when Brendon bounced a little higher or rambled a bit louder. The thing was, he had no idea why he was doing it this time.
Ryan was a little bit on edge, and Spencer had taken to avoiding Brendon’s gaze (when they weren’t fucking), but Jon couldn’t pinpoint any precise reason why Brendon seemed to be out of sorts.
Brendon even fucked differently, which was weird. He usually moved a lot more, but when Jon was buried in his ass, Brendon just clung to him, digging his fingers into Jon’s forearms. Sure, he writhed on the bed, his head tossing back and forth as he mumbled the most obscene things Jon had ever heard, but he was much stiller than usual.
“More, Fuck Jon, more,” Brendon begged - he knew Jon loved it when he begged - and tightened his hold on Jon. Jon let out a moan and thrust harder, struggling to keep his eyes open as he moved in and out of Brendon’s body. He was tight, so god damn tight, and Jon was shaking as he fucked him.
Jon slid a hand between their bodies, fisting his fingers around Brendon’s dick. Brendon whimpered and bit down on his lip, chewing on it as he watched Jon with wide eyes. His pupils were dark and Jon couldn’t help groaning as how awesome it was that Brendon let him do this.
Then Brendon came, his back arching as he spilled himself over Jon’s fingers. Jon kept thrusting, his hips stuttering as he came, emptying himself inside the condom. He caught a flash of color on Brendon’s forearm as he collapsed on top of him and realized why Brendon had been so worked up for the past week or so.
As soon as he could move again, Jon rolled onto his side and spooned behind Brendon. He lifted Brendon’s arm, moving it closer to his face so he could see the design, could appreciate the shading and the utter ridiculousness of it.
“It’s pretty. Just like you,” he whispered against the nape of Brendon’s neck. Brendon let out a shaky moan in response, and Jon worked his hand over Brendon’s body, settling with his palm flat against Brendon’s hips.
--
After a few weeks, everyone was used to Brendon’s tattoo. It was another part of them, just like Ryan’s makeup or Jon’s beard. Sure, they all caught little flashes of color out of the corner of their eyes, but it wasn’t an issue. Brendon even stopped brining it up every five seconds, which everyone counted as a blessing.
And when Ryan was inside Brendon, thrusting hard from behind while Brendon went down on Spencer, it was just another part of Brendon for Jon to lick.
Ryan wouldn’t ever admit it, but he kinda liked the knowledge that he was one of only three people in the entire world who got to know what it felt like to come on Brendon’s tattoo. It even became this kink where he tried to do it as often as possible, and hey, that was something Brendon could go with. Really go with.
Spencer found solace in the fact that Brendon came to him in order to find out whether inked skin tasted different than clean skin. It had taken an entire afternoon - and involved lots of come and drool - but Spencer still claimed there was a slight distinction between the two parts of Brendon’s body. He still licked Brendon every day or so just to make sure, though.
Jon was pretty laid back, so he didn’t pay much attention to Brendon’s tattoo. He liked the way Brendon displayed it, though; the way he flexed his forearm in photos or rolled up the sleeves of his hoodies. As long as Brendon didn’t get tired of sleeping with him, Jon could pretty much accept anything.
And Brendon still thought it was the coolest fucking thing ever. Except maybe for the fact that he had three awesome bandmates who seemed to like fucking him.
Sometimes life just rocked.
*****************************************************************************
Ryan makes a displeased noise from his place on the couch. It sounds a little distressed and 'help me, Spence!' so Spence tilts his head to look past his laptop to watch Brendon crawl into Ryan's lap. The XBox controller lies forgotten and deserted on the floor and on the screen blinks the high score. Spencer grins when he sees that Brendon still hasn't managed to beat him, which may or may not (Spence doesn't dare to make assumptions on Brendon's motives) be the reason why Brendon is now snuggling close to a very unwilling Ryan, looking all hurt and woeful.
"Make out with me," Spence hears him say, muffled by Ryan's sweater. "I lost again. It sucks. I hate Spence." A quick glance into Spence's direction and Spencer raises a brow at him and flips him off before going back to his work.
From the couch, Ryan makes desperate noises, and Spence can't help but risk another glance. Brendon has Ryan pinned down effectively with his knees and is pulling at his sweater. Spence swallows, and tries to ignore the warmth pooling in his lower body.
"Fuck, Brendon," Spencer hears, a tiny hiss out of Ryan's mouth and he doesn't really want to look. Instead, he shifts the laptop to a more comfortable position on his lap, rearranging his legs in an Indian-style position.
"Don't you feel bad for me, Ryan?" Brendon is asking, and Spencer glances up to see him comfortably settled between Ryan's legs, rolling his hips a little and nuzzling Ryan's chin.
"Of course I do, Brendon," Ryan says, consolingly patting him on the head. He meets Spencer's gaze and Spence can feel the flush spreading on his cheeks. Ryan rolls his eyes at Spence and mouths 'KID', but continues to pet Brendon's hair. Brendon makes a pleased little sound and buries his nose against Ryan's neck, and even Spence has to smile a little. He looks away again when Ryan gives him a questioning look.
"Hey, hey," Brendon mumbles, and Spence deliberately doesn't look but keeps typing. There is shuffling, the sounds of clothes sliding over skin and then hushed voices and Ryan exhaling audibly. Spence bites his lip and tries to ignore the wet noises, the shallow breathing, but when Ryan makes a little choking sound, he can't help but look.
They're kissing open-mouthed, tongues sliding wetly against each other, teeth clicking; it's so quiet; Spence imagines he can hear their heartbeats in unison, and he lets out a breath he didn't notice he was holding.
The door to the lounge opens as soon as Spencer tears his eyes away from Ryan and Brendon, still connected at the mouth. And, really, everywhere else.
Jon stands in the doorway, watching everything with a cocked eyebrow. Spencer meets his eyes, a little flushed, and almost feels guilty for being in the room. Jon lets out a little 'whoo-hoo' noise, and Spencer automatically feels light again.
He watches with Jon as Brendon breaks away from his embrace with Ryan for a moment to turn around, slick-lipped and dark-eyed, and flick Jon off.
"Oooh," Jon says and reaches for his heart, mock-hurt, face twisting in invisible pain. He laughs and flops down on the ground next to Spence's feet.
"So, since when?" he asks, twisting his neck to look at Spencer.
Spencer shrugs, bites his lip, hoping Jon is talking of what he thinks he is. "Five minutes," he answers, trying to sound nonchalant. Brendon tells them to fuck off, twice, whenever he manages to pry himself away from Ryan.
Jon grins and rolls his eyes, and Spence feels a little safer now that he's not alone anymore. He turns to his laptop again, ready to continue, when suddenly Ryan's sidekick on the table next to Spence starts blinking, vibrating and ringing all at once.
"Are you," he starts, trailing off when a quick glance shows that Ryan, in fact, won't be able to get his phone.
Jon nudges his shin, still grinning up at Spencer, this time with a twinkle in his eyes. "Get it," he mouths. Spencer reaches over, pulling the phone into his hand, and pressing the 'answer' button.
"Er, Hey, Pete," he says, after a quick glance at the caller ID.
"Ryan there?" Pete says, kind of passing over the formality of 'hi', which Spencer finds a little rude. (Really, what does it take?)
"Um, no," Spencer says, a little bit of a laugh in his voice, "He's kind of, busy."
"With what? Emo lyrics?" Pete asks, and Spencer can nearly hear the smirk in his voice. "Come on, get him to the phone."
"Er, no, he's really busy," Spence insists because he is quite sure that Ryan won't move an inch if he calls him to the phone right now. Jon moves from his position on the floor to sit on the armrest next to Spencer.
"He's got his hands full," he says into the phone with a grin before Spencer can pull away.
"Hah," Pete kind of laughs, and then, "No, seriously. I'm not fucking joking, give me Ryan."
"He's performing sexual favors on our lead singer, I'm afraid," Jon answers and Spencer swats his thigh.
"Shut the fuck up!" Brendon yells from the couch.
"Can't you get him to stop, for like, a second?" Pete asks, and he's probably grinning, probably.
"I don't think so," Spencer says, grabbing the phone from Jon as soon as he sees that he is about to speak.
"Just say, 'Pete is on the phone,' he'll come." Spencer finds the choice of wording somewhat ironic, but calls out anyways, only to be received by a wave of Ryan's hand, which has snaked its way out from between his and Brendon's bodies - in a rather low spot.
"Yeah, I'd try something less anti-making-out, Pete," Jon laughs, trying to tug the phone away to himself.
"What? Should I say like, 'Ryan, bite Brendon's lip,' or something?" Spencer can hear Pete laughing from the phone, amused.
"You never know, it might work," he says, smiling and leaning against Jon's head. (One of them had to do the smart thing and decide to share.)
"Pete says you should bite Brendon's lip, Ryan," Spence says after a moment of consideration. "Or come to the phone," the adds after a second, but Brendon is already groaning, his bottom lip between Ryan's teeth. They part for a moment, and kiss again.
"Oh, shit," Jon mutters, breath hitching, and Spencer swallows. He can hear the blood rush in his ears, loud and fast and hot.
"What? What?" Pete asks over the line.
"He did it," Jon says, leaning closer to Spencer. "So, what now?"
"Oh," Pete says and Spence can hear him swallow. "Seriously?"
"Yeah, absolutely" Jon says calmly, and Pete answers, sounding uncertain, "Are they- are they naked. Jesus, I can't believe I'm asking this. Are they?"
"No," Spence answers, feeling a little surreal. Feels very surreal when Jon adds, "Not yet."
"You think I could just tell them to get naked?" Pete asks, a little laughter in his voice, and then, before Spencer can reply, "Shirts, tell him to take off their shirts."
Spencer swallows again, wishing for water, and Jon is tense beside him. "I, Ryan, Pete wants you to take off both your and Brendon's, er, shirts."
Jon lets out a little breath, that could almost be a laugh, and Spencer buries his face into his neck, mumbling, "Did I just say that? Ohmygod, Jon, did I just say that?"
"Hey! What are they doing?" Pete asks from the phone, a little louder than necessary and Spencer glances back up. Brendon's back is bare, muscles tensing as Ryan rakes his nails lightly downwards.
Ryan locks eyes with Spence, pupils small and dark, "What else, does he want, Spence? What else?"
Spencer almost groans himself at the tone of Ryan's voice, watches him struggle out of his own shirt. "Shit," he says into the phone, "Shit Pete, what now?"
Pete is quiet for a moment, and Spence presses closer to Jon, needing contact, needing an anchor. "Brendon - tell Brendon to, uh, lick Ryan's lips." Pete sounds a little hoarse; his tone makes Spencer's stomach lurch a little with the realization of what they're about to do, of what they're already doing.
"Brendon," Jon says, putting his hand softly onto Spence's thigh. "Er, kiss Ryan."
"Lick his lips," Spence adds before he can stop himself, and Brendon's eyes dance between them for a moment before he leans down and softly licks Ryan's lower lip and then kisses him. Ryan arches off the couch, straining towards Brendon, his arms around Brendon's neck.
Spencer feels Jon's hand move to his thigh, squeezing a little, and he breathes, "Fuck, Spencer, fuck."
Ryan is making little noises, accentuated by the wet sounds. "Is that, is - Ryan really makes those noises? Holy shit," Pete exclaims from the phone, and Spence asks, "Can you say something else, Pete?"
Again, Pete holds his tongue, obviously thinking, and Spencer can't help but make an impatient noise, eyes locked with Ryan's as Brendon nips at his bottom lip.
"Have, have Brendon bite him, Spence, his neck," Pete finally answers, his voice an octave deeper.
'Like a vampire?' Spencer wants to joke, but can't, he's too far into serious and surreal territory.
"Bite him, Brendon," he says instead and reaches for his neck, and Jon's fingers dig into the flesh of his thigh harder, nearly painful. Brendon nods and leans down, burying his face against Ryan's neck. Ryan gasps and arches up, mouth slightly open and eyes closed.
"Wow," Jon says against Spencer's temple, lips soft, breath moist and tickling. "That's seriously." He stops, hand sliding higher on Spencer's thigh and Spence feels him tremble slightly.
"Does it hurt?" Spence hisses, trying to make his voice sound normal. "Ryan?"
"No-ah," Ryan breaks off, pulling at Brendon's hair until Brendon complies and moves to kiss him on the mouth again. Over the phone Pete makes a little choking noise.
"You guys, you," Pete almost gasps, and Spencer imagines him in his living room, or his bedroom, gripping his Sidekick with a sweaty hand to mirror Spencer's own, "You aren't fucking with me, right? They - they are really?"
Jon nods, seemingly incoherent, and Spencer answers a hoarse, "Yes."
"God, I want to see this," Pete says, almost indirectly into the phone, as if he's saying it to himself, "Can, would they do more? Ask him, ask."
Now even Brendon is turned a little, watching Spencer and Jon on the couch, waiting, he trails his fingers down Ryan's bare chest, and Spencer can see the muscles tensing. "Would you do," he asks, "Would you do more?"
Brendon gives a little almost frantic nod, and pushes visibly downward, making Ryan groan, eyes falling shut.
"Can you, like, let us get naked, at least? Jesus," Brendon growls out, annoyed.
"Er, Pete," Spencer rasps, "They want - ask them to take off everything."
"Okay," Pete says. "That works."
Jon nods shortly at them, and Brendon sits up and starts wiggling out of his pants. He's halfway through, when he seems to notice that Ryan isn't really doing anything.
"Ryan?" Spence and Jon ask nearly at the same time. "Huh?" Pete says over the phone.
"I like my pants, thanks," Ryan says and pushes at Brendon who's trying to work his fly open. "Tell Pete to go fuck himself, I won't get naked here in front you all."
Jon says raises his brow, and Spence bites his lip. Pete's inquiring voice over the phone is echoing in his head, annoyingly so. He inhales sharply and pries the Sidekick from his ear and hangs up. Jon gives a little laugh and slides down the armrest until he's squeezed into the armchair with Spence. Spencer fidgets for a moment and then decides, what the hell, and climbs into Jon's lap.
"Blow him," Spence says and tilts his chin a little, Jon's hands sneaking around his waist.
Ryan makes a face, his nose scrunched up a little. "You guys," he says, slowly, and his tongue darts out to wet his bottom lip. Jon pushes upwards a little, just a tiny pressure and grips at Spencer's hipbone.
Brendon turns to Ryan, a tiny pout on his face, and brushes his knuckles along Ryan's chin. "Come on," he whispers, slightly, and Jon continues to push up against Spencer, light but enough that it's making his head spin.
"Come on," Brendon says again, "You want to, don't you? Just -- on your knees and everything, right on the floor while I sit up here? While they watch?"
Ryan looks like he's considering saying no, or getting up, because he tenses, but then he makes a quick grab for Brendon's hand, the one on his chin, and pulls him forward, into an almost harsh kiss.
"Fuck," Jon whispers from behind Spencer, and his tongue darts out to lick at the shell of Spencer's ear.
"Do it," Spence whispers, not sure whether Ryan can even hear him, but Jon's movements get more frantic, and Spence grinds back at him a little. He watches Ryan and Brendon break apart and then Ryan is sliding from the couch onto the floor, hands on Brendon's thighs and Brendon's fingers in his hair.
"Shit," Jon mouths into Spencer's ear. "Shit, Spence, this is so hot."
Spence swallows nods and leans back a little more, falling against Jon, twists his arms so he can bury his hands in Jon's hair. Jon's noticeably hard against him, and Spence moves again, enjoys the sound Jon makes.
He closes his eyes for a moment, but then Brendon just gasps, hoarsely, and Spence has to look, just has to; there's Ryan on the floor, knees folded beneath him, toes curling, hands in Brendon's pants, head bobbing. Brendon's back is curving off the couch, eyes squeezed close, teeth on his lower lip.
Jon squeezes Spencer's hipbone again, and moves his hand a little lower, wiggles it under the belt just to stop three-quarters of his finger length in and massage lightly. Spencer rolls his hips down, a little too hard and Jon groans, completely un-shushed into his ear. He bends down to lick at Spencer's neck, and they both turn their attentions back to the couch.
Spencer can see one of Ryan's hands, long fingers gripping at Brendon's hip, fingers pushing down on his waistband. He can see the taught muscles of Ryan's back, and thinks, 'shit' as Brendon lets out another gasp and Jon bites down on his neck, hard.
Ryan gets Brendon's boxers down, a triumphant hum spilling out of his mouth, and Brendon visibly shivers a little, presumably as the cool air of the room hits his sensitive skin. Ryan's head dips down, far, and from his angle Spencer can see Brendon meeting his eyes, his mouth open in a drawn out gasp. "Ryan," he breaths, just as Jon says, "Spencer, Spence," and moves his hand to push lightly at Spencer's crotch.
Spence's eyes flutter shut and Jon's hand fumbles with the buttons on his jeans for a moment before dipping inside, fingers closing around his cock. Spence moans, low, feels his voice crack a little, and Jon whispers senseless words against his skin, thrusts against him and Spence grinds back, rhythm between Jon's strokes on his cock and their movement.
Brendon moans and Ryan makes a little choking noise, wet sounds, the sound of rustling clothes, and Spence eyes fly open again when in between little harsh breaths Jon tells him to look. Brendon's hips are jerking up and up, his fingers gripping Ryan's hair tightly. Ryan's bobbing his head still, caught up in Brendon's rhythm, shoulders slack as he lets Brendon fuck his mouth.
"Oh god," Spence breathes, nearly inaudibly even to himself, and pushes harder into Jon's hand.
A little noise escapes Spencer's mouth, almost a whine and Jon thumbs at the tip of his cock, a little too rough, but - god. He's having trouble keeping his eyes open, to drink in Brendon's expressions, his sounds, and the way Ryan is just taking it - taking the thrusts of Brendon's hip.
"Shit, Spence, shit," Jon growls, adopting a faster pace, squeezing every time he bucks his hips up, and Spencer pushes back down. He's tempted to let his head fall backwards, to grab Jon and just kiss him, hard and senseless, but Jon has his other hand against his neck, directing his focus forward.
Brendon makes another noise, a keening almost melodic sound, as if he's trying to hit a note but his throat is stuck, and Spencer thinks he hears a moan from Ryan, even with Brendon's cock down his throat, even with the bucking of Brendon's hips.
"He likes it, Spence, fuck," Jon rasps between panting, sucking harshly at the skin behind Spencer's ears, in a way that will definitely be leaving a mark.
"Ah, Ryan, fuck," Brendon gasps and stills, hips curving off the couch, making tiny pumping motions. Ryan pulls back a little, but seems to swallow. Jon groans against Spence's neck, and bites him slightly, sucking skin between his teeth again, stroking him faster.
Spence exhales and watches Ryan wipe his face before climbing into Brendon's lap; Brendon reaches for Ryan's pants and Ryan's hips buck forward. Spence closes his eyes and twists from Jon's grip on his chin and turns to press their mouths together. Jon makes a surprised sound, but pushes his tongue inside Spence's mouth, wet and hot; he thumbs the head of Spence's cock again, rubs against him harder and Spence moans into his mouth, the palms of his hands feeling golden and filled with electricity. It spreads, warm, hot, fluid down his spine and up his cock and he comes gasping into Jon's mouth.
Jon bites his lips, grinds against him again, once, twice, before his mouth goes slack and he freezes in mid-motion. He sags against Spence then, laughing a little, smiling, and Spence has to smile back. He kisses him softly and Jon pulls his hand from Spence's pants.
Spence glances at the couch and sees Ryan fall against Brendon, hug him, his back heaving and sinking. Brendon sticks his tongue out at Spence but then grins at him, eyes dark, face flushed still. Jon laughs low, and the sound vibrates through Spencer's bones, and he closes his eyes and sinks against Jon again.
*****************************************************************************
Brendon knows exactly how big of a loser he really is. It's sort of mortifying to realize that in less than two months he'll be graduating from high school and heading off to another state to record an album for his band, and not only is he still a virgin, but he hasn't even been kissed. It's not that he hasn't wanted to - more that no one else has wanted to with him. It's... Well, it's embarrassing is what it is.
Brendon is a little bit drunk. Spencer stole two beers from his parent's fridge, and even though he drank one and helped Brendon finish the other, Brendon still feels a little bit drunk. It's entirely possible that Brendon is a total lightweight.
Ryan isn't drinking, so he spends most of the time making fun of Brendon when he says stupid things. If Brendon wasn't a little bit drunk, he might be offended. As it is, it's kind of funny. Eventually, Ryan loses interest, and he and Spencer start talking about some party they went to the previous weekend.
Brendon didn't go to the party, and listening to them talk about it isn't particularly interesting. His head feels like it's floating away, and he wants to lie down. Ryan's leg is close, but Ryan is sort of bony, so Brendon moves next to Spencer instead and rests his head on Spencer's thigh. Ryan starts talking about some girl he's been sleeping with, and Brendon can practically feel Spencer rolling his eyes.
"You're such a slut," Spencer says.
Ryan throws his head back when he laughs, and Brendon can see his Adam's apple move in his throat. It's pretty, because Ryan has all this smooth pale skin and a really skinny neck. Ryan says, "You didn't used to complain so much about that."
Brendon thinks huh, as he rolls his head a little so that he can look up at Spencer. Brendon's been their friend for a more than a year now, and he did not know that. Spencer bites his bottom lip as the corners of his mouth turn up. "That's because it used to directly concern me," Spencer counters. The two of them smile at each other like they're sharing a secret. Brendon guesses they are, in a way.
Brendon hates that he still doesn't know everything there is to know about Ryan and Spencer. He hates that sometimes the two of them don't even have to say a word to understand each other when Brendon feels like he constantly has to explain every decision he makes. It's also possible that half a beer has just made him impossibly nosy. "Wait, wait," Brendon finally says. "What?"
Spencer looks down at Brendon like he's just remembering that Brendon is there. His cheeks flush the tiniest bit, color working up his neck too. "Oh," Spencer says as he pushes Brendon's bangs off his forehead. "It was a long time ago."
Ryan snorts from across the room. "You're seventeen," he says, rolling his eyes. "We're not old enough for a long time ago. It was last year."
Spencer flips Ryan off companionably. "Anyway," Spencer says. "I was a pathetic virgin and Ryan..." Spencer waves his hand uselessly in Ryan's direction. "Ryan... helped."
Brendon closes his eyes and rolls his head back against Spencer's thigh. "Oh," he finally says. "That was nice of him, I guess."
Ryan smiles and says, "What can I say? I'm a giver."
Brendon spends two whole days thinking about Spencer's mouth and Ryan's hands. He lies in bed at night with his sheets wrapped up around his legs and his hand wrapped tight around his cock. It's both really, really hot and horrifying, because Spencer and Ryan are his best friends and his band mates. Jerking off thinking about the two of them having sex probably isn't the smartest thing he's ever done.
At practice Brendon can't stop staring at Ryan's fingers as they work over the fret board. When he turns around to look at something else, Spencer is there, sweaty and gorgeous, the tendons standing out in his neck. Brendon might go crazy if he doesn't at least get to make out with someone really, really soon.
After practice, Spencer decides he wants ice cream. Ryan and Brent both claim to have dates, and they take off, leaving Brendon to deal with Spencer's pleading blue eyes.
"You fucking suck," Brendon says.
Spencer smiles and says, "Whatever, dude. We'll get Blizzards and then we can come back here and play Resident Evil."
They eat their ice cream in the car on the way home and then they play video games for an hour before they get bored. Spencer turns on the TV, and they end up watching That 70's Show reruns.
"I have no idea how Eric got a girl like Donna to make out with him," Brendon says forlornly. He doesn't get it. Donna is hot, and Eric is... Eric.
Spencer quirks an eyebrow and says, "It's not like Eric is unfortunate looking."
Brendon slumps and says, "Spencer. Spencer would you make out with me?"
Spencer says, "What?"
Brendon's cheeks feel like they're on fire, and he sort of wishes the couch would just open up and swallow him whole, but it's not like he can take it back now.
"Spencer, I can't graduate from high school without ever being kissed," Brendon whines. He is really very good at whining and wheedling and begging. It's got something to do with his pout and his big brown eyes. "It's terrible," he continues. "It's bad enough that I'm still a virgin."
"It's actually okay to be a virgin, Brendon. There's nothing wrong with you," Spencer says.
Brendon's not stupid. He knows it's not the end of the world to graduate high school with his virginity still intact. He just really doesn't want to still be a virgin. He wants Spencer to kiss him.
"Please, Spencer. Please," Brendon says. "You can be my Donna."
There's an awkward silence as Spencer just stares at Brendon. Brendon's heart is beating so loudly that he's positive Spencer can hear it too. He can't believe he just compared Spencer to a hot red-headed girl on a TV show. He also can't believe he just asked Spencer to kiss him, and his brain is scrambling, searching for some way to make a joke out of it until Spencer sighs, a long-suffering burst of air.
"You're much, much hotter than Eric," Spencer says.
It's not at all what Brendon thought Spencer was going to say, seeing as how it lacks the words "no" and "fuck off".
"What?" Brendon asks stupidly.
Spencer rolls his eyes and reaches out his hand. "Come here," he says, pulling Brendon closer. Brendon goes. He's not sure what he should do with his hands. He slides them up along the smooth hair on Spencer's forearms, curling around Spencer's elbows, until his fingers dig into his skin.
"I'm not sure what I'm supposed to do," Brendon whispers. His face is right next to Spencer's now that Spencer has pulled him closer, and it feels like he shouldn't talk at his normal volume.
This whole fucking thing is nerve-wracking. Spencer chuckles softly and says, "Yeah, I remember."
"Umm... I really didn't mean to say that out loud," Brendon says.
"Brendon?" Spencer says as he runs his thumb over Brendon's cheek. Brendon's heartbeat speeds up, and when Spencer doesn't say anything else, Brendon looks up and meets his eyes. Spencer's eyes are very blue, and he's smiling when he says, "Shut up."
Brendon nods. Spencer leans in and sets his lips gently against Brendon's. Spencer's lips are warm and slick, and they feel really nice. Brendon's breath whooshes out warm and damp against Spencer's mouth. He doesn't know what to do with his tongue, but Spencer's tongue pushes back against his, warm and firm. It's nice, better than Brendon has imagined, and it only gets sweeter when Spencer licks more forcefully into his mouth, his tongue sliding along Brendon's teeth.
Brendon moans and clings to Spencer's forearms, tilting his head when Spencer's fingers slide into his hair and pull. Brendon tries to focus on every single detail, because he wants to remember this for later, for tonight when he's alone again. Only this time, when he thinks about Spencer's mouth, he'll actually know what it feels like against his own.
Spencer nips lightly at Brendon's mouth, and it sets off little sparks in Brendon's stomach and spine and cock. Brendon shifts on the couch, the material of his jeans rubbing against his cock, making him moan again. Spencer licks soothingly along Brendon's bottom lip, slowing the kiss as his hand slides down the side of Brendon's neck, fingers trailing along the pulse point in his throat.
Brendon is practically in Spencer's lap when they finally stop kissing. Spencer presses his lips lightly to the corner of Brendon's mouth, his chin, his temple. Brendon rests his forehead against Spencer's shoulder and breathes.
"Good?" Spencer asks.
Brendon shudders hard and nods his head, rolling it along Spencer's collarbone. He closes his eyes. He can't seem to stop shaking. Spencer rubs soothing circles along the base of Brendon's spine while his other hand continues stroking Brendon's throat with feather-light finger-tips.
Brendon hums and arches into Spencer's fingers against his back. It feels amazing. Brendon totally did not know that having someone stroke his back could be such a turn on. His hands are still on Spencer's shoulder and his arm, and Brendon's fingers start digging in like a kneading cat. Brendon feels awesome, and he knows Spencer was probably just being nice, but he can't help wondering if it was okay for him, too.
"That was... Was that good?" Brendon finally asks.
Spencer's whole body shakes when he laughs. "You said it was," he says. "Are you taking it back now?"
Brendon looks up, eyes wide. "For me, yeah. But, you're. Well you've." Brendon doesn't know how to say that Spencer is the experienced one without sounding like even more of a loser, so he just stops talking.
Spencer smiles, and kisses Brendon's mouth lightly. "I've only ever been with Ryan, you know," he says. He looks vaguely embarrassed by the admission, but it makes something -- something Brendon didn't even know was coiled tight -- loosen in his chest.
"I've only ever been with you," Brendon says back.
Spencer's face softens, and his fingers find their way back into Brendon's hair. "It was good, Bren," Spencer says quietly before he leans in and kisses him again. They break apart to breathe, and Spencer says, "It is good."
Brendon takes the lead this time, pushing Spencer down until they're both stretched out on the couch, side by side. He kisses Spencer's throat, his collar bone, the hot skin behind his ear. Brendon kisses him everywhere he can find skin, and it's good. It's really, really good.
They don't have practice again for two days after that. Spencer has to take some tests for correspondence classes he's taking, and Brendon has work. It doesn't really matter, though, because Brendon has had his first ever make-out session, and it was awesome. He's practically floating these days.
He ends up getting cut early from work on Saturday because it's slower than fuck. He really doesn't want to go home to sit around his apartment by himself, so he gets in his car and drives in the opposite direction. It's not really surprising when his car automatically heads in the direction of Spencer's house.
Spencer's mother answers the door with a big smile.
"Oh hi, sweetie," she says, looking a bit harried and frazzled. "Crystal and Jackie, I am walking out this door right now. Let's go!" she shouts up the stairs.
She turns back to Brendon, and Brendon gives her a little wave. "Hi, Mrs. Smith."
"The boys are upstairs, and we're off to the mall, if I can ever get the girls in the car. There's food and drinks in the kitchen, so you just help yourself." Crystal and Jackie come running down the stairs, Jackie yelling frantically about being unable to find her purse.
Brendon uses the commotion to slip into the kitchen and grab himself a Capri Sun. When he comes out, the house is quiet again, and he can see Ginger's car backing out of the driveway through the window. Brendon heads up the stairs and takes a look in the game room first. The door is ajar. When Brendon pushes it open he finds the TV on, but the room is empty.
Spencer's room is at the end of the hall, and Brendon's been coming and going long enough that he doesn't even think about knocking. He pushes the door open, a greeting on the tip of his tongue, but it dies as soon as he realizes what he's seeing.
Spencer's stretched out on his bed with Ryan straddling his hips. Brendon can see Spencer's fingers bracketing Ryan's slim hips, and they're pressed into Ryan's skin where his shirt's been pushed up.
Brendon's never felt so many contradicting emotions at one time. There's embarrassment for having walked in on them, guilt, jealousy, and somewhere at the end of it all a sense of utter loneliness that Brendon is getting entirely too used to feeling.
Spencer turns his head, and when their eyes meet, Brendon draws in a sharp breath.
"Sorry, sorry," Brendon says, backing out of the room.
"Brendon," Spencer says, but Brendon's already turning, the muscles in his thighs quivering with the desire to run. Spencer says, "Wait," but it's Ryan's quiet, commanding voice that actually keeps Brendon from fleeing.
"Brendon, stop," he says, and Brendon hovers in the doorway, his back to the room, the doorknob squeezed so tightly in his grip that his knuckles are turning white.
Brendon hears the rustle of fabric against fabric as someone moves on the bed, and then Ryan slides up behind him, his callused fingers sliding around Brendon's wrist. Brendon wonders if Ryan can feel his pulse pounding under his skin. Ryan's breath is hot against Brendon’s neck and ear as he says, "Let's close the door." He says it like he says most things, softly, slightly amused, and still so commanding that Brendon can't help but comply.
Brendon's hand loosens on the knob almost against his will, and he lets Ryan turn him around so that he's facing into Spencer's room again. He doesn't know what he's supposed to do. He fists his hands at his sides and lets his eyes roam the room. They settle on Spencer, even though Ryan is standing right in front of him.
Spencer looks back, his eyes open wide and bright, bright blue. Brendon's mouth waters with want, but his gut churns with guilt again. Sure, Spencer made out with him, but Spencer has always belonged to Ryan first, and Brendon suddenly feels like he's somehow betrayed them both. "I'm sorry," he says again, even though he's pretty sure neither of them knows what he's apologizing for.
Ryan pushes into Brendon's space, making Brendon's breath catch in his throat. He feels Ryan push the door closed behind him.
Ryan says, "So Spencer tells me he got to kiss you."
Brendon automatically feels like he should protect Spencer. "I asked him to," he says. The volume of his own voice startles him. Spencer is still lying on the bed silently, and Ryan is always quiet when he speaks. Spencer hasn't said a word yet, but Brendon can hear him breathing in time with the whir of the ceiling fan. "It was like a favor."
Ryan laughs at that and takes a step back. "So he didn't want to?" Ryan asks, wrapping his hand firmly around Brendon's wrist, pulling him further into the room. "Because that's not what he told me."
"Ryan," Spencer says warningly. He finally sits up, swinging his legs over the edge of the bed so that his feet rest on the carpet. He curls his toes and runs his fingers through his hair, and Brendon can tell he's nervous and annoyed at the same time.
Ryan looks over his shoulder and smiles at Spencer, before he walks around behind Brendon, putting him between the bed and the door -- between Ryan's body and Spencer's. "Spencer says your mouth is really hot," Ryan says against the back of his neck.
Brendon's breath speeds up, and he can hear Spencer's do the same. "Jesus," Brendon says, rubbing his damp palms against his jeans. Ryan comes around to Brendon's side and turns his head so they're staring into each other's eyes.
Ryan's beautiful. He looks slightly predatory and really sure of himself. Brendon feels a little like a deer in a hunter's sights. He doesn't know whether to run or stand very still and hope for the best. Spencer moves off the bed and says, "You're freaking him out, Ryan."
Ryan spares a glance for Spencer before he leans in and nips at Brendon's bottom lip. Brendon's eyelids flutter closed and he can feel a moan welling up from somewhere in his gut.
"I'm not scaring you, am I?" Ryan asks. "I just want to see if Spencer is right."
Ryan's so close. His body heat is pressing in on Brendon so that all of Brendon's clothes feel too tight, constricting and warm. He’s beginning to sweat through them. Brendon opens his mouth to say something, but Ryan's bottom lip is shiny and wet from his own tongue and Brendon can't think of anything past that. He surges forward, fitting his mouth awkwardly against Ryan's.
Ryan hums happily against Brendon's mouth, but he doesn't push back. He puts his hands gently on Brendon's face and lets him control the kiss. Brendon presses against Ryan and digs his fingers into Ryan's bony shoulders. He knows he's clinging, but he feels shaky and uncertain, and he still doesn't know what to do with his hands.
Ryan's mouth doesn't feel like Spencer's. It's hot and wet like Spencer's, but his tongue feels different against Brendon's. It's firmer, more self-assured, and when Brendon pushes hard, there's less give. Ryan's lips feel thinner, too, but he sucks on Brendon's tongue in a way that Spencer didn't, and it makes Brendon want to grind against him.
Brendon feels Spencer step up behind him. He's solid, and when he puts his hands on Brendon's hips, Brendon feels steadier. He leans back against Spencer's chest so that he's sandwiched between the two of them. Ryan follows with his mouth, never breaking the kiss.
Spencer leans in and mouths against the back of Brendon's neck and sucks gently. Brendon feels like he might hyperventilate, he's so turned on right now. He wonder's if Spencer's marking him. He hopes he is. Brendon squeezes his eyes tightly shut and prays that tomorrow he'll have something to look at -- some physical reminder of what's happening in this moment.
Ryan breaks the kiss, and Brendon eyes flutter open. Spencer sucks at another spot on Brendon's neck, making Brendon arch against Ryan. Ryan smirks and licks his bottom lip.
"Spencer was right," Ryan says breezily. "Kissing you is really hot."
Spencer moans against Brendon's neck and Ryan lets out a small laugh. Brendon blushes. His entire face feels like it's on fire, but Ryan doesn't give him time to think about it, turning Brendon so that he's facing Spencer. Spencer says, "Hey," and his eyes flick over Brendon's shoulder to Ryan.
"You should have seen him when he was telling me, Brendon," Ryan says softly. "His skin gets all flushed when he's turned on. Kind of like it is right now. Do you see his eyes?"
Brendon nods and swallows hard, but he doesn't think he can speak. Ryan just keeps talking. He says, "When you really get him going, his eyes get so blue, and it's almost like they’re the only spot of color in the room."
Brendon can't stop looking at Spencer's face, and Spencer is looking back at him now. Brendon feels like he's trapped in Ryan's voice; the smooth, clean cadence of it won't let him move forward or backward. He’s still not sure of himself, but the anticipation makes him want to push. He needs something to happen soon.
Ryan says, "You know what would also be really hot, Brendon?"
Brendon doesn't know, but he's practically bursting out of his own skin to find out. Brendon knows it's a rhetorical question, and now he's just waiting for Ryan to tell him what to do, to give him permission.
"You should kiss him, Bren. He wants you to. Don't you, Spencer?" Ryan asks. Spencer nods , his entire body bowing toward Brendon's.
Ryan's still pressed up tight against Brendon's back, and Spencer is right in front of him, his hands still holding Brendon's hips. Brendon takes a deep breath. He can smell them all now: Ryan's shampoo, Spencer's deodorant and his own sweat.
Brendon tips his head to the side and trails one of his fingers along Spencer's lips. Spencer's tongue darts out to lick delicately against the pad of Brendon's finger, and Brendon pushes his finger inside Spencer's mouth, pressing it against the flat of his tongue.
Spencer's mouth is warm and soft, and Brendon really wants to kiss it now. He drags his finger away, shuddering when Spencer nips lightly at the tip of it. Brendon’s hands make their way into Spencer's hair, and it's softer than Brendon remembers it being. He twists it up in his hands and pulls Spencer forward until they're kissing, sloppy and noisy.
Ryan runs his fingers along the line of Brendon's spine. "You're both so fucking hot," Ryan says. He presses his fingers into Brendon's vertebrae, and Brendon shivers and moans against Spencer's lips.
"Spencer told me about this too," Ryan whispers. "He said you liked having your back touched."
Ryan's fingers dip lower so his nail is scratching under the waist band of Brendon's jeans. He pushes his thumb against Brendon's tailbone and Brendon doesn't know what to do. He wants to climb Spencer, and he wants to lean back into Ryan's clever hands. He has no idea what he wants to do first.
Before Brendon can make a decision, Spencer pulls back and takes a step away. Brendon wants to follow, but Ryan's hands are kind of down the back of his pants, keeping him where he is.
"We need less clothing," Spencer says as he pulls his own shirt over his head.
Ryan laughs, loud and throaty against the back of Brendon's neck. "Always the practical one," he says. Brendon expects Ryan to step away then, but he reaches his long arms around Brendon's body and goes for the button of his jeans instead. Spencer continues pulling his own pants off as he balances on one foot, and Brendon can't stop looking at him. He didn't get to see any of this when they were kissing, and he likes looking at all of Spencer’s pale skin, at the freckles across his shoulders and his upper arms.
Ryan says, "I need your help here, Bren," and Brendon can focus again. Ryan's got Brendon's pants undone and pushed down over his hips, and Brendon pulls them down lower and shimmies awkwardly out of them.
Brendon actually really likes being naked, but usually it's some kind of joke. Usually he treats his nakedness like another costume for his long list of personalities. This is the first time in his life that he actually feels like he’s been stripped bare. He can feel Ryan's and Spencer's eyes burning into his skin.
Brendon can feel Ryan stepping away from him, but Spencer is there to make up for the loss. He kisses Brendon again, walking them backwards until they're both sitting on the bed. Spencer's hands are everywhere, and Brendon still doesn't know what he wants to touch first. Both of his hands sit uselessly on his thighs, curled into fists.
Spencer stops kissing him when Ryan joins them. He's gotten his own clothes off, and Brendon's eyes widen a little, when they drop below Ryan’s waist . Spencer starts laughing, the sound jarring Brendon from the staring contest he's got going with Ryan's cock.
"I had a similar reaction," Spencer says, his voice dripping with amusement. Brendon bites his lip and tries not to blush.
"You don't have to do anything you don't want to," Ryan says gently.
Brendon looks back up and meets Ryan's eyes. Ryan is forever surprising him, and Brendon isn't sure why he expected this to be any different. Ryan's eyes are kind but full of heat, and Brendon doesn't think he's ever felt so wanted in his whole life.
"I want to suck your cock," Brendon says. Ryan looks at him greedily, and Brendon wants to earn that look. He wants to be good at this. "But I don't know what to do," he adds.
Spencer says, "Come here," as he leans in to kiss Brendon again. Brendon goes with him, leans into him when he kisses and slides off the bed with Spencer when he goes to his knees in front of Ryan.
Brendon is impossibly nervous and eager all at once. He looks to Spencer for his cues since he has no idea where he should start. Spencer doesn't waste any time. He kisses the sharp edge of Ryan's hip bone, and noses along the dip where thigh meets hip, breathing deeply through his nose.
"You smell really good," Spencer says a second before he licks up the side of Ryan's cock and sucks the head into his mouth.
"Fuck," Ryan says, and Brendon doesn't know where to look again. Ryan's face is beautiful, his eyes closed tight and his lip caught hard between his teeth. Spencer's mouth is stretched wide around Ryan's dick, and one of his hands works the shaft the way Brendon would work over his own dick. Brendon's eyes flit back and forth until Spencer pulls off with a wet pop and says, "Your turn now."
Brendon swallows and scoots forward on his knees. He licks tentatively up the shaft and Ryan hisses above him, his hips stuttering forward like his cock is seeking out Brendon's mouth. There's precome leaking at the tip. Brendon flicks out his tongue to taste it. It's not unpleasant, exactly, but it's not really good either. The noise Ryan makes, however, is good , so Brendon does it again.
Spencer says, "You know, when we first met you, Ryan used to talk about your mouth."
Brendon looks up the length of Ryan's body and their eyes meet. Brendon finally gets up the courage to suck Ryan's cock into his mouth.
"He used to talk about all the things he wanted to do to you," Spencer continues.
Brendon moans, and tries to keep Ryan from shoving forward by grabbing Ryan's hips and holding him down. It makes it impossible for Brendon to work the shaft with his hand the way Spencer did, so Brendon pulls off long enough to say, "Well, I always knew Ryan was a perv. Now, can you help me, please?"
Spencer laughs, but he also reaches out and wraps Ryan's cock in his fist, and together, the two of them get a rhythm going. Ryan puts a hand on the top of each of their heads. Brendon can tell by the way his fingers flex that he really wants to grab and pull. He’s pretty impressed with Ryan’s control, actually. He hasn't pulled or thrust past what Brendon can take, and Brendon is really thankful for that.
Eventually Brendon's jaw starts to hurt, and when he pulls off, Spencer's mouth takes his place.
Ryan's different with Spencer, less careful and more forceful. Brendon knows Spencer can take him deeper, but Brendon doesn't think he did too badly for his first time. He feels somewhat validated when he looks up at Ryan's face and sees that Ryan is watching him instead of Spencer.
He's actually really impressed with Ryan's willpower, because Spencer is fucking hot -- flushed, and sweaty, his hair sticking to the side of his face. His lips are red and pulled tight around Ryan's cock, his cheeks hollowed out as he sucks.
Brendon says, "Holy shit," and Ryan follows his gaze and grunts loudly, and then he comes without warning Spencer at all.
Spencer pulls off quickly, his hand working Ryan over, and Ryan is still coming, a rope of it hitting Spencer across his cheek and his nose. Spencer doesn't seem to mind, and Brendon wants to taste, so he leans in and opens his mouth. But orgasms aren't exactly cooperative when it comes to aiming, so most of it ends up on his chin and across his cheek.
"Fuck. Holy fuck," Ryan says as he slumps to the floor in front of them. All three of them are breathing heavily, even though Ryan is the only one who has come. Ryan waves his hand between them and says, "Someone should really help the two of you clean up."
Spencer snorts and mutters, "Asshole," under his breath before he leans in and licks wetly across Brendon's cheek. Every time he thinks he can't get any more turned on, one of them does something to prove him wrong. He's more than ready for someone to touch his cock now.
Spencer kisses him, messy and with lots of tongue. They're still on their knees, and Brendon's pretty sure he's going to have rug burn when this is all over but he twists anyway, so that he can crawl into Spencer's lap. Spencer lets himself be pushed back until he's sitting on his heels with an armful of Brendon.
"I really want to fuck you," Spencer says breathlessly.
All the blood not in Brendon’s cock rushes to his ears. "I..." Brendon drags in a shaky breath.
"I would really like to see him fuck you," Ryan says lazily from where he's sprawled on the floor. "If we're taking a poll, or whatever."
Brendon laughs, partly because Ryan's a jerk and partly because he feels a little hysterical. Brendon wants this. He wants this more than he can verbalize, but he doesn't know how to say it without sounding needy or scared, even though he's both.
Spencer's hands feel strong and safe and warm at Brendon’s back. Brendon leans into his chest and tucks his head against Spencer's neck. "Yes, okay," he says against Spencer's skin, and he knows Spencer understood him by the way he squeezes his arms tighter around Brendon's shoulders.
"On the bed," Spencer says gently. He helps Brendon stand, hands steady on his hips, and then Spencer picks himself up off the floor and walks over to his dresser. Brendon goes to the bed and sits, twisting his hands nervously in his lap.
Ryan says, "Brendon."
Brendon's eyes snap up to meet his. He's still on the floor, but he's rolled on to his side so he can see the bed from his position. "It's Spencer," Ryan says. "He's going to be so, so careful with you, man."
Brendon breathes easier, because yes. It's Spencer, and Spencer is always careful with everything. It's Spencer, and Brendon trusts Spencer more than he trusts almost anyone. Spencer finishes rummaging through his drawer, and when he comes back he's got lube and a strip of condoms. Brendon tries to calm his frazzled nerves by lifting an eyebrow and saying sarcastically, "Just how much sex are we planning on having?"
Ryan laughs, but Spencer says, "As much as we want to." He leans in and kisses Brendon's mouth sweetly. He pushes Brendon backward until he's flat on his back, and then settles in at the end of the bed so that he's sitting between Brendon's spread legs.
Spencer flips the cap on the lube, but he keeps talking, trying to distract Brendon from what he's doing. "By the time we're done," he says, squeezing lube over the fingers of his right hand, "Ryan's going to be ready to go again, and he’s lazy when it comes to supplies."
"Hey!" Ryan says incredulously from the floor. Brendon turns his head long enough to see Ryan flipping them off, but he's smiling, so Brendon doesn't think he's actually mad.
Spencer says, "Do you want me to tell you what I'm doing before I do it?"
Brendon loses control over his breathing; all his air rushes out in frantic bursts. He doesn't know. He has no idea. Spencer nods, so Brendon thinks he might have said all that stuff out loud again, and for once he's thankful for his uncontrollable babbling. He's having a hard enough time trying to remember to breathe, let alone talk.
Spencer kisses his knee gently, and Brendon feels pressure at his entrance, blunt and steady. "It's my thumb," Spencer says as he spreads the lube across, making Brendon slick. "I'm going to start with my index finger to get you ready, and we'll just go from there, okay?"
Brendon nods and turns his head away, but Ryan is right there on the floor, staring intently. Brendon feels closed-in and caught. He really wants something to take his mind off whatever it is that Spencer's about to do to him.
"Can you kiss me?" he says to Ryan.
Ryan smiles and crawls across the floor. It shouldn't be sexy because Ryan is all bones and sharp edges; it shouldn't be sexy, but it really is. Ryan's mouth is still amazing. He kisses Brendon softly, eating at his mouth so that Brendon can't think of anything else.
Spencer pushes the first finger in gently and Brendon feels it, the discomfort of the stretch. Spencer’s using lots of lube, though, so the slide is easy in spite of the burn. It doesn't really feel good yet, but Ryan's mouth does, and Brendon focuses on that, on the slide of Ryan's tongue into his mouth instead of the slide of Spencer's finger into his ass.
"Jesus Christ, I wish you could see this," Spencer says to no one in particular. Maybe he's talking to both of them. Brendon doesn't know. "You're so tight around my finger. You're so hot."
Ryan moans against Brendon's mouth and Brendon digs his fingers into Ryan's arm where it's resting on the bed. Ryan pulls away long enough to say, "Tell me," before he kisses Brendon again, scraping his teeth over Brendon's chin and throat before moving back to his mouth.
"I'm adding another finger," Spencer says, and this time he does something different. His fingers twist or crook or something, so that along with the burn, there are tiny sparks going up and down Brendon's spine.
Brendon arches into it, his back bowing up off the bed. He rips his mouth away from Ryan's and says, "Spencer ."
"Don't give him an inflated ego," Ryan says against Brendon's neck. Spencer laughs, the sound vibrating out and into Brendon's body. Brendon moans and pushes himself onto Spencer's fingers. Spencer keeps doing whatever it is he's doing now that he's found the right angle, and Brendon's body is on edge.
"I need to come," Brendon says. He feels like he's begging, but he can't help it. His entire body is coiled so tightly he thinks he might explode if he doesn't get some kind of release.
"Do you still want me to fuck you?" Spencer asks, and Brendon nods frantically. The fingers don't feel like enough. Brendon really wants something to bear down on. "Just hold on for me, then," Spencer says, pulling his fingers free and fumbling with a condom. "Sometimes it’s too much if you've already come."
Ryan scoots down the bed and helps Spencer with the condom. He bats Spencer's shaking hands away and rolls it down onto Spencer's cock himself before picking up the lube and squeezing a large amount into the palm of his hand. He fists Spencer's cock, letting Spencer fuck up into his hand twice before he lets go.
"Okay, Spence," Ryan says gently, fondly, and the two of them share the kind of smile that Brendon doesn't think he'll ever understand, no matter how much time he spends with them.
Ryan pulls one of Brendon's knees up and bites gently at his thigh. Spencer hooks Brendon’s other leg over his own hip and lines himself up, running the head of his cock across where Brendon is already slick from his fingers.
"Deep breath," Spencer says, and then he moves his hips forward.
It hurts. Brendon opens and closes his hand, twisting the comforter between his knuckles. Ryan comes back to Brendon's end of the bed and pulls his hand away, locking their fingers together so Brendon can squeeze.
"You're so hot," Ryan says. "The two of you like this. The way he looks at you, the way you're stretched around him."
Spencer snaps forward suddenly and it's like before, with his fingers. Everything goes bright and technicolor behind Brendon's eyelids. Brendon makes a sharp, high-pitched noise, and Spencer says, "Yeah?"
Ryan says, "Like you even have to ask? That was definitely Brendon-speak for 'do that again'."
Brendon throws his head back and says, "Yes, yes, do it again," and when Spencer does, he moans, "Harder."
Spencer fucks him harder, and it still burns but it's different, less intense and more constant, like a sunburn aches for a few minutes after you first get in the shower . Brendon moves his free hand to Spencer's shoulder and digs in, clinging to Spencer's slick skin. He wants Spencer's mouth, but he doesn't know how to ask for it with Spencer fucking him so perfectly, so he just arches his body up until Spencer get the hint.
It's more a press of lips than an actual kiss. Spencer grunts harshly on every thrust, reducing the two of them to panting into one another's mouth. Spencer says, "Ryan," somewhat desperately. Brendon doesn't know what he means, but Ryan must because he's there by Brendon's hip again so that Spencer can turn away from Brendon's mouth long enough to kiss him.
Brendon can feel Ryan working his hand between the two of them, and then his mind pretty much checks out. Ryan wraps his fist around Brendon's cock and squeezes. Spencer's thrusts come harder, even as he loses the rhythm he had going, and Ryan continues to slide his hand up and down Brendon's shaft, twisting around the head.
Brendon literally goes blind when he comes. He's pretty sure his eyes are open, but he can't see a fucking thing. He can feel Ryan's fist around his cock. He can feel his come when it hits his stomach and chest. He can feel Spencer's cock sliding in and out of his ass perfectly, but he can't see Spencer’s face when he comes.
Spencer collapses uselessly on top of Brendon. It's not really comfortable with Brendon's come and Ryan's fist still trapped between them, but it still feels good somehow. Spencer's breath feels warm, and Brendon actually clings to him when he finally pulls away . Spencer rolls them and rearranges himself so that he's spooned up behind Brendon, both of them facing out into the room. Ryan is still kneeling by the bed, looking at the two of them contemplatively.
"What?" Brendon asks. He sounds a little smug, even to his own ears.
Ryan lifts his hand and licks across his knuckles where Brendon’s come is still on his skin . Spencer moans and says, "Come here."
Ryan clambers onto the bed, climbing over both of them until he's tucked up against Spencer's back.
"So," he says.
"So," Spencer echoes.
"Yeah," Brendon says, snuggling back against Spencer's chest.
It's quiet for a moment, all of them breathing together. Brendon feels soft and disconnected, and he thinks he could probably fall asleep right here.
"So," Ryan says again, and Brendon's eyes snap open. "Who's up for round two?"
*****************************************************************************
Jon's talking on phone, reclined back on the bed when Ryan comes out of the bathroom in nothing but a towel. Looking up at him, Jon smirks. "Jesus, Ross," he says as Ryan casually drops said towel, crawling up onto the bed. Ryan just gives him a look, reaching for his t-shirt, and Jon hangs up the phone, letting it drop gently to the floor. "Correct me if I'm wrong, but didn't we just have sex on the bus? I swear to God, I cannot keep up with you."
Ryan just shrugs, pulling at Jon's shorts until he lifts his hips. "Seem to be doing okay so far."
"Yeah, but another six weeks? Fuck, I'm going to need some help keeping you happy." He stops talking when Ryan straddles his hips and leans down to kiss him. "Not that I'm complaining," he mumbles. Ryan nips at his mouth, and Jon gives a little groan.
One of Ryan's hands slides down his body, fingers brushing over his hip, and Jon can't help arching into the touch. "Hey," he says brightly, like he just thought of something. "What would you say if I asked Brendon over tonight?"
"Very funny, asshole," Ryan mutters, crawling back on the bed as he moves down Jon's body to take hold of his cock.
* * *
"Brendon has never fucked Ryan," Jon announced as soon as William picked up his phone.
William's answering laughter distorted into white noise when his breath huffed into the mouthpiece. "Hello to you too, fucker."
Jon rolled his eyes. "Hi, how are you, fine thanks, were you aware that Brendon has never fucked Ryan? Or that Spencer hasn't, for that matter?"
William paused. "Well, I mean, there have to be some people who haven't fucked Ryan, I guess."
"Do you know anyone?"
William didn't answer.
Which made sense because, see, the very first time Jon even met Ryan, he'd fucked him.
Jon knew William was aware of this, as William had been the one to introduce them at the start of the Truckstops and Statelines Tour, drunk but no drunker than Jon himself had been.
"Oh, hey, it's Ryan! Jon, you have got to meet Ryan. I met him in LA." And Jon had not been too drunk to know that by "met," William meant "fucked."
And Jon could see why. "Ryan Ross!" (as William proclaimed once he'd managed to drag Jon over to the skinny boy) had shy brown baby-deer eyes and a fresh smile, sweet but also a little wry, not to mention a slow, deep voice, so much lower than Jon had expected, throaty in a way that made it sound like he'd just fucked half the party.
Jon had smiled.
Fifteen minutes after that, he was pounding into Ryan against a shadowed wall, kicking his legs farther apart and biting the back of his neck as he thrust in, quick and dirty. Ryan moaned into the faded paint, chanted "more, harder, please," and then "yes, yes" when Jon complied. He squeezed Ryan's hip and reached around to tug on his cock, stroking until Ryan came with a grunt, spraying the wall and clenching down so hard on Jon that he lost his rhythm, stuttering into his own climax.
He did wonder, occasionally, if that was the sole reason he ended up in the band: he'd made a good first impression.
But he was not one to look a gift horse in the mouth.
Especially a mouth like that.
* * *
Perched at the foot of the hotel bed, Ryan strokes up and down Jon's cock a couple times before he ducks his head, licking gingerly across the tip. He looks up at Jon, fluttering his tongue, and Jon bites down on his lip, watching Ryan drag his lips along one side of the shaft, then the other, before he parts his lips and lets the head slip in. Inside his mouth it's hot and damp and Jon groans again, his hips twitching. Ryan clutches at his thigh and then slides his hand up, pressing hard and holding him still.
Ryan's stronger than he looks, he's got a fucking vicegrip on Jon's hip, and Jon grins down at him, trying to buck free, testing him. Ryan blinks up at him before narrowing his eyes and pushing down with even more force.
Jon hadn't even been hard when Ryan came over but he's at full attention now, and Ryan moves his head down farther, sucking noisily and making small sounds low in his throat, just enough to buzz around Jon's dick. Jon tilts his head back against the headboard and keeps watching, notices Ryan's free hand steal down between his own legs to tug at his cock, sees his back arch and his body roll, eyes lidded and fluttering. He makes another noise, longer, and it sounds raw around the mouthful he's got.
The vibration courses through Jon, and he swears. "Fuck, Ryan," he says, intending to say more but pretty much unable to finish an actual thought.
Gathering a handful of Ryan's hair, Jon urges him lower, as if Ryan needs any prodding; he's already taking Jon in deeper with every bob of his head, lips stretched around him, glistening wet pink, and when Ryan tilts his head just a little more, Jon can feel his throat closing around the head of his cock.
"You're so fucking good at this," Jon breathes, "all of this," and he decides that the only way to describe Ryan's expression is smug but with a mouthful of cock; it's kind of a good look for him.
Ryan swallows again, and Jon groans happily.
* * *
"Well, not everyone on the planet can be fucking Ryan Ross," William mused. "That's just not plausible."
"They should be," Jon decided. "The world would be a much happier place."
"Ryan's ass," William declared in a voice only slightly mocking, "would end hunger."
"Cure the common cold," Jon suggested.
"Solve the energy crisis."
"Save the rainforest! And baby seals."
"You're an idiot!" William said. "Anyway, how do you know for sure?"
"Last night, Ryan cornered me backstage, after the show. And I was like 'no, Zack's going to kill us' but he just hit his knees, like 'he said we have ten minutes,' and I was like, 'but he meant--' but then, you know."
A little chuckle from William's end indicated that yes, he knew. Jon continued. "And so he's doing his thing, and fuck if he doesn't just get a finger up there, before I even know what's happening."
William hooted. "And you came right there."
"Well. Okay, yeah, but that's not the point. After, I asked him if Brendon gets off on that, because come on. But Ryan just kind of closes up, all of a sudden, and tells me that he doesn't do that with Brendon."
"He doesn't finger his ass?"
"That's what I asked! But he was like no, they don't fuck. At all. And, I mean. I didn't even know what to say! Well, actually I might have asked him if he and Spence fuck, then, because, shit."
"And?"
"No. He said he doesn't fuck his bandmates."
"What about you?"
"He said it's different."
"Well, shit."
"I know."
* * *
Ryan raises himself off Jon's cock, flicking his tongue under the head before dragging it along the sides again. "Gonna fuck me," he mumbles, and with the little hitch at the end, it's almost a question. He doesn't look at Jon, eyelids so heavy his eyes might actually be closed, and Jon scratches his scalp, tangling his hair.
"'Course I am," Jon says, almost like he's reassuring him, maybe even thanking him for asking; Jon likes it when Ryan asks. Ryan glances up at him, licking his lips. Jon smirks. "Don't worry, you're really going to get it, going to get fucked over good, hard...." He trails off, letting it go with the slightest air of mystery, staring back at the gleam in Ryan's eyes before Ryan lowers his head, taking Jon back in. He lets his teeth scrape over the head, just the right amount of pressure, and Jon bucks and wonders just how the hell Ryan even learned that was okay, because jesus, that is not something you should try with just anyone, unless you feel like risking a black eye. He is good.
And as if that's not enough, Jon can see Ryan's arm shifting, and can only assume he's still jerking himself, body tensing and then relaxing, and somehow that makes it even better.
Jon brushes a thumb across Ryan's cheek, a thoughtful gesture, or, well, full of as many thoughts as Jon can manage with Ryan's mouth on his dick. "Don't worry, you're going to love it."
* * *
Jon found Ryan alone in the front lounge and jumped on the opportunity, as he had learned very fast that "alone" and "living in an enclosed space with Brendon Urie" were pretty much mutually exclusive.
"But you want to, right?" he asked.
Ryan glanced over at him, brow lowered, mouth curved into his usual pouty frown. "What?"
"Brendon," Jon said in a hushed tone. He glanced over his shoulder for good measure before continuing. "You want to fuck him, right?"
The frown deepened and Ryan blushed. Up to that point, Jon wouldn't have thought the kind of boy who went down on someone in a gas station bathroom was even capable of blushing, but there it was, pretty much unmistakable.
"No," Ryan said. "God."
Jon grinned, because it was suddenly so obvious. "Oh my god."
"What?"
"It's... You don't just want to fuck him, you actually like him!"
"What are you, thirteen?" Ryan asked, but it was too late, the set of his mouth and the pink flush on his cheeks had given him away.
"And that's why you haven't fucked him, 'cause you've actually got a crush on him!"
"A crush on who?" Brendon said, wandering in from the bunks with his usual impeccable timing.
Ryan jerked, and Jon glanced over at him. Ryan's eyes were wide, and he looked faintly horrified. It was fucking adorable.
Turning back to Brendon, Jon answered, "Justin Timberlake."
"Oh." Brendon opened the fridge door. "Who doesn't?"
Ryan was so pissed at Jon for the comment that he withheld sex for an entire evening, during which Jon got drunk with the crew and somehow ended up back on the phone with William.
"And I'm pretty sure he likes Brendon. Like, like-likes him."
"Jon, you are seriously thirteen."
"Come on, you've seen how Ryan is around Brendon, you were there on tour, too. I cannot believe that Brendon's not tapping that. That Ryan's not, for fuck's sake."
"Maybe he wants more than just a fuck from Brendon."
"Maybe you're a girl."
"Fuck you." William paused. "You really are going to do something, aren't you?"
"I just think this band would be so much more awesome if I could help young Ryan consummate his obvious crush."
"And how do you expect to get Ryan to let Brendon fuck him? Slip a roofie in his Red Bull? Maybe tie him to the bed and lock the door on them, not let them out until one of them is pregnant?"
"Oh, come on," Jon protested a little distractedly. "If Ryan was going to get pregnant, it definitely would have happened by now."
"It's probably for the better. He doesn't have the hips for it."
Jon laughed at that.
"Anyway, if you get yourself kicked out, you can always come back home to me."
"Thanks, but I'm not going to get kicked out."
"Well, you can always come back anyway. Is Ryan Ross really a better lay than me?" Jon could hear the pout in William's voice.
"I'm not answering that. I've got to go. Sleep, or something."
Bill laughed, "Oh, fuck you too!" and hung up.
* * *
Ryan is all the way down on Jon's cock when the door clicks.
Brendon barely makes it a step into the room before Ryan looks over and chokes. He pulls his head back and coughs. "God, fuck," he sputters, glaring at Brendon, who's holding a keycard in his hand and looking more than a little flustered.
"What?" he asks, blinking owlishly. "I. I mean, Jon told me to!" He keeps sweeping his gaze across Ryan's naked body, pausing every time his eyes land on Ryan's face, but always flicking down again.
Ryan turns his glare to Jon, a sharp, wild look in his eyes, and Jon honestly doesn't know whether he should be amused or terrified.
"I hate you," Ryan says delicately.
* * *
Ryan crawled into Jon's bunk and woke him up by pulling down his boxers.
"Jesus," Jon said as soon as he was awake enough to realize he wasn't being molested in his sleep by some stranger, only Ryan. "I don't get it. If you're not fucking Brendon and Spencer, how the hell did you ever survive on tour before me? I mean, you didn't spend that much time on our bus. Do you have a disturbingly large collection of sex toys?"
"Fuck you," Ryan said, but didn't stop maneuvering himself into a suitable position over Jon's hips. He was small and bendy, fucking made for bunk sex. Jon loved his life.
He waited patiently until Ryan had lowered himself all the way down, sheathing Jon fully inside and rocking until his body adjusted, waited for Ryan to set his own rhythm, hips rolling hungrily, and then he spoke up.
"Hey, you think we should wake Brendon up, ask him to join us?" His voice was rough from sleep and Ryan but he tried to keep his tone light.
"Shut up," Ryan said.
"Oh, come on. I think he'd like to watch. Couldn't you just see him... watching us?"
"No, god," Ryan replied but it sounded a little like a gasp to Jon.
"Or do you think he'd want to fuck you himself?"
Ryan's rhythm faltered, and Jon continued, speaking slow, letting the words sink in as Ryan tried to keep fucking himself on Jon's cock. "Bet he would. He wouldn't be happy just watching, he'd have to have you for himself, your ass. Do you think he'd be gentle with you, the first time?"
Ryan was starting to shake, hardly moving anymore, and so Jon took over, pushing his hips off the bed, quick and hard, driving the breath from Ryan's body.
"No," Jon said. "He knows you better than that. He'd fuck you hard," a vicious thrust and Ryan made a noise, raw, from low in his throat, "know that's how you like it, hard, fucking dirty."
"Fucking shut up," Ryan gasped. Jon reached for his dick.
"You'd be such a slut for him, and he'd fucking love it." Jon started stroking him, in time.
"Fuck...."
"Do you think he's good at it?"
Ryan bit his lip, eyes already squeezed closed.
"You don't have to lie to me, Ryan. You've thought about it, thought about letting Brendon fuck you, what it would be like. Do you think he's a good fuck?" Jon squeezed his cock, and Ryan whimpered, twisting his hips. Another tug and Ryan exploded in Jon's hand, splattering his t-shirt with come, back curling as he bent over, panting.
Jon let go of Ryan's cock and grabbed his hips, holding him tight as he snapped his pelvis up. Ryan groaned softly, clamping down on Jon's cock, and Jon came with a grunt and a shudder.
Ryan rolled off and Jon pressed himself tight against the wall, making room.
"You fucking asshole," Ryan mumbled, still breathless. Jon just grinned and combed his fingers through Ryan's hair.
* * *
Jon starts to reply to Ryan's proclamation of hatred but Brendon speaks over him. "Well, shit," he says, and then clears his throat, voice a little hoarse. "Should I just leave?"
"Well, yeah!" Ryan spits, whirling back on Brendon. He's flushed, embarrassment piled on top of arousal, naked, rumpled, mouth swollen and shining wet, and shit, if Brendon has any sense at all, Jon thinks, there is no way he'll turn his back on that.
They stare at each other for a moment, heat practically pulsing through the air between them. Ryan squirms just a little.
And Brendon has maybe a little sense, Jon has to give him credit, because he stands his ground.
* * *
"How come you're not fucking Ryan?" Jon asked Brendon when Ryan was in the bathroom starting on his makeup and Spencer was tucked away somewhere with his Sidekick.
Brendon looked up, surprised and a little something else, almost hurt maybe, and Jon was struck by the sudden sense of doing a good deed, because really, hooking them up would be like a favor to both of them.
"What, like at this second?" Brendon quipped.
"Oh, shut up. You know what I mean. And don't say because you're friends or because of the band."
"Dude, I hate to break it to you, but those are perfectly logical reasons."
"Yeah, sure, but they're boring, I've heard 'em all before. I want a new one."
Brendon shrugged. "Okay. I think you're fucking him enough for all of us."
Jon let out a laugh. "Oh, now that is definitely not true." He shifted a little closer. "Come on, you have to know what a slut he is. Wants it so much I can't even keep up."
Brendon was frowning. "And you thought I needed to know this why?"
"I think you need to help me shoulder the burden."
Brendon's laugh was sharp and incredulous. "'Come on, dude,'" he joked in an exceptionally good impression of a high school jock, "'take one for the team.'"
"Actually, yeah," Jon continued. "I think it would be good for you. Him. Us. I mean, you don't know what you're missing. The way he moans and kind of tosses his head. You gotta fucking hold him down, if you want him to be still, 'cause he just squirms, he loves it that much."
Brendon went completely silent.
Neither of them spoke again before Ryan appeared in the doorway, half-masked. "Brendon," he said, and Jon thought he might have recognized the tone. "If you're not using the black pencil, would you give it to me?"
Jon could see Brendon's adam's apple bob as he swallowed, and he couldn't help feeling a little bit victorious.
* * *
"Come here," Jon says with a slight jerk of his head.
Brendon hesitates, looking at Ryan.
"Oh, come on, Brendon. It'll be fun." He glances down at Ryan. "He wants you to."
"Oh really?" Brendon says, his tone a little sharp.
"Come on, Ryan," Jon goads. He leans down and nudges Ryan's cheek. "You want Brendon to stay, don't you?"
"No." Ryan's voice, however, wavers, and Jon is not convinced.
He slips his fingers underneath Ryan's jaw, tilting his face up to see the struggle tracing across his features. "You don't want Brendon to fuck you?"
Ryan meets his eyes, and there's a flicker there, a plea, and Jon can tell what he's really pleading for; he's practically drooling, for god's sake. Jon grins. "It's okay, Ry, he wants to, too." He casts Brendon a sidelong glance. "Actually, I think we should all do it together. It'll be great."
* * *
"So what's your plan?" William asked him.
"Who says I'm planning something?"
"You're planning something."
Jon silence gave him away, and William chuckled.
"Okay, fine, maybe I am planning something. But it's cool."
"Right."
"No, really, we're all going to have sex, and it'll be awesome."
"All of you? Spencer too?"
"Sure, of course. That would be hot. Wouldn't it be hot, Spencer fucking Ryan?"
"You do realize you're attempting the impossible, right? Making the gayest band on the planet even gayer."
"Fuck off," Jon said. "We can't be the gayest band. And I think it'll be good for us. Like, a team-building exercise or something."
"You do know that not all bands have group sex together, right?"
"Your band does."
"That doesn't make it the rule! Just because a few of us who you happen to know--"
"Most of you," Jon interjected.
"Okay, just because most of the bands you know do have sex, it doesn't mean all bands do. It's not necessary in order to function as a group. Like, I'm pretty sure Hanson didn't have sex together."
"I wouldn't be so sure of that."
"Jon."
"What? It's not like Ryan and Brendon are brothers, god."
William laughed at him. "You know what? Good luck. Send me pictures or something."
* * *
A tiny sound escapes from Ryan's throat, and Jon looks down at him. "What's that?" he asks. He threads his fingers back into Ryan's hair, turning his head to face him. "You do want Brendon to fuck you?"
Ryan's face darkens another shade. "I don't--"
"Aw, you know you want him. You can't hide it. Not from us."
Ryan looks over at Brendon, licks his lips; he gives a little shudder, and Jon can practically see the fight draining out of him. "Okay," he breathes.
"Okay?" Jon tugs on Ryan's hair, enough to make him hiss. "You can do better than that." He turns Ryan's head back in Brendon's direction, and when he looks over himself, he sees Brendon swallow.
"Yes." Ryan melts in Jon's grip, shivering with the exhalation. "Yes, please."
And wow, Jon thinks, that's honestly all it takes? It's almost disappointingly easy, he almost doesn't feel the victory at all. But then Ryan's licking his lips, still blushing prettily, and Jon forgets to be disappointed. Instead, he turns to raise an eyebrow at Brendon, but Brendon's already walking forward, ripping off his shirt and pants and kneeling on the side of the bed, naked. Yeah, the boy does have some sense. Ryan is so obviously staring at his groin, Jon might swear his body is actually straining forward with want.
"God, Ryan," he smirks, "If you wanted it that bad, why the hell did you wait this long?" Before Ryan has a chance to defend himself, Jon taps his shoulder. "You can wait another minute. Get up, you're going to do this right and kiss him first."
Ryan barely hesitates before he obeys, crawling over to Brendon, who is a little wide-eyed but definitely not displeased with the turn of events.
* * *
Jon had finagled Brendon into trading rooms that morning, since Brendon and Ryan usually shared. He figured that had something to do with the fact that Spencer could not tolerate being in a room with Brendon (or Ryan, for that matter) for any extended period of time, not without curtains or something that provides even the slightest illusion of solitude.
Although he did agree to it, Brendon had seemed reluctant, almost upset, and Jon felt kind of bad, even though he knew the switch wasn't going to be permanent. If he hadn't been convinced before, he knew then that he was doing the right thing.
After the keycards had been doled out and then rearranged, Jon had sidled up to Brendon, slipping his into Brendon's pocket. Brendon looked up at him, startled.
"For the team?" Jon said, and grinned, turning away before Brendon had a chance to respond.
He just had to make sure he followed Ryan to the room, but that wouldn't be difficult, since Ryan was the slowest one getting off the bus and Jon could just pretend he was waiting out of the goodness of his heart. Plus, if he got really tired of waiting, he could always call William and pester him. He watched Brendon walk to the door, bag slung over his shoulder, and caught Brendon brush his knuckles over the keycard in his pocket. Jon grinned, and waited.
The plan might not have been elaborate, but Jon had been pretty confident it didn't have to be. He knew all that tension between Brendon and Ryan would do the hard work for him.
* * *
As he gets to his knees, Ryan steadies himself with a hand on Brendon's shoulder, and Brendon touches his arm. They lean in at the same time.
And the first couple of seconds are just about the sweetest thing Jon has ever seen, he feels a warmth in his stomach just from seeing them together, seeing the way Ryan tilts his head so that Brendon has a better angle. It's like the kiss at the end of a teen movie, so cute, and kind of gratifying to watch.
For all of five seconds, anyway. Because then one of them makes this growling sound (low voices, Jon can't even tell who) and Brendon palms Ryan's ass, hauling their hips tight together. Ryan gasps against Brendon's mouth, clutching at his shoulders.
The warmth in Jon's stomach pools lower, then, and he thinks of Ryan's mouth on his cock moments earlier, kind of mourning the loss.
Ryan's fingers slip down to Brendon's hip, inching toward his cock, and Jon knows then that he's going to have to wait his turn. Ryan's fingertips brush first and he quickly folds his fist around, shifting his knees slightly apart. He kisses Brendon's jaw. "Can I now?" he asks, and even though his eyes are on Brendon's face, Jon can tell the question is really directed at him.
"It's okay with me, but you'll have to check with Brendon."
Ryan licks Brendon's throat, repeating, "Can I?" in a slightly lower tone.
Brendon's nodding even before the question is out, "Yeah, do it."
"He'd beg, you know," Jon tells him. "Want him to beg you for it?"
* * *
"Please," Ryan said, on his knees in the back lounge. And yeah, it was probably only contributing to Ryan's delay in getting off the bus, but Jon really didn't have it in him to protest. He stared down, cock in hand.
"Please what?" he asked. He figured there wasn't much venom in his words, but he didn't care, because Ryan was begging anyway, and he kind of really liked this part.
"Want it," Ryan mumbled, eyes following the motion of Jon's fist along his shaft, hand mimicking the rhythm on his own dick.
"Want what?" Jon prodded.
"To suck your cock," Ryan said, and his eyes fluttered as he squeezed himself tighter.
"My cock?" Jon said softly. "Or do you want to suck Brendon's?"
"No," Ryan said, "No, stop it."
Jon tilted his head, whispered, "Spencer?"
And Ryan came with a cry in his own hand. Jon waited for him to catch his breath before inviting him forward.
* * *
Brendon isn't even paying attention, though, and Jon can't exactly fault him, because Ryan's moving down, reaching, and Brendon has to hold him away just so he can lie back.
And then, in the time it takes Jon to blink, Ryan's between Brendon's legs, already holding his cock firm in his hand, licking over the head. Brendon swears, bucking off the bed and Ryan glances up at him before opening his mouth and sucking him in.
Jon feels himself flush, can't help remembering Ryan's mouth on him again, and he reaches down and fists his own cock, so hard still but just from watching now. Brendon pushes his fingers into Ryan's hair, trying to match Ryan's rhythm to his own. Ryan doesn't struggle, just lets Brendon force him lower, eyes watering as Brendon thrusts up to meet him.
Moving up behind Ryan, Jon slides his hands up his thighs and tilts his hips, pulling him closer. Ryan whines, stretching his back, trying to accommodate Jon without moving away from Brendon. Jon runs his hand over Ryan's ass and then slides a finger along his crack, causing Ryan to shudder back against him and moan low around Brendon's cock. Jon hears Brendon groan, and when he checks, Brendon's panting through parted lips.
Spreading Ryan's cheeks apart, Jon leans in and trails his tongue along the same path as his finger. He laps over Ryan's asshole, feeling Ryan squirm under his hands, and then pushes his tongue in through the tight ring. He works Ryan open, getting him slick inside before flicking across the outside too, over and over again, Ryan quivering before him.
He leans back, breathing hard, and dips his first finger into Ryan's hole. Drawing his hand away, he spits, then pushes the finger back in, going deeper, twisting. Ryan cries out and Jon sits back on his heels. Brendon's biting his lip, eyes squeezed shut, hands still in Ryan's hair; he presses his head down and Jon can actually see his hips twitching.
"Shit, Brendon," he says, "Don't fucking come yet." Jon grabs Ryan's waist and hauls him off Brendon's cock. Brendon shoots Jon a remarkably menacing glare, which really only makes Jon want to play with him more. Ryan whimpers, "Want it, want it," and struggles; Jon just digs his fingertips into Ryan's hipbones and holds him back.
"I know you do," Jon says, "But don't you want Brendon to fuck you? Fuck your ass?" He can see Ryan eyeing Brendon's cock, flushed dark red and wet and ready, and he hears Ryan whimper again.
"Yeah, that's what I thought." Using his grip on Ryan's hips, Jon wrestles him over on his back, and Ryan arches into his hands.
"Come on," he whines, voice hoarse, and spreads his legs.
Jon actually hesitates. Shit, he's tempted to let Brendon wait, make him watch, have Ryan first. "What, you want me to fuck you?" he asks with a slight smirk.
* * *
"Okay, but what I really don't get is why you actually want to share him," William asked, and if he wasn't completely drunk at the moment, he was definitely getting there.
Jon smiled even though he knew William couldn't see it. He was sitting in the front, speaking softly while Ryan rifled through his bag for about the twelfth time, frowning and glancing around. "Because I am a generous motherfucker."
William's smirk was audible. "Yeah, you're a real fucking humanitarian."
"Besides, I told you already. Sex with Ryan is awesome, but I can't help thinking we're missing something. Like, as a group."
"And an orgy will solve this problem."
"Ryan's ass, dude, remember?"
"Oh, right."
"No, but really. It's already there, we just have to. Cement it. Solidarity."
"I'm going to pretend I get what you're saying in the hope that it will shut you up."
"Cool." Ryan hoisted his bag, coming closer, and Jon grinned at him as he thumbed off his phone.
* * *
Ryan moans and arches again, and Jon pushes his fingers into his hair. "Don't worry, I will. But I'm going to be generous and let Brendon have you first. We'll all work together. How does that sound?" Jon licks one of his own fingers, reaching between Ryan's legs and pressing it back inside, making sure. The noise Ryan makes is almost enough to break Jon's resolve, and he glances over at Brendon.
"Fuck yes," Brendon says, already turning over to crawl closer. Jon pulls the hand away from Ryan's ass but keeps the other tangled in his hair, cradling Ryan's head.
He watches quietly while Brendon kneels between Ryan's legs, moving into place. And god, the sight of Brendon's cock disappearing into Ryan's body, the look on Ryan's face when Jon briefly glances up, fuck, it's totally worth it, worth having to wait his turn, worth sharing, worth everything. Ryan moans and the note hitches at the end as Brendon sinks all the way in, hips colliding with Ryan's ass.
Brendon gives a couple hesitant, experimental thrusts, and Ryan gasps, "Fuck."
"God," Brendon answers, leaning close and slamming down hard, jarring Ryan all the way to Jon's hand at his head. Ryan reaches up and tugs Brendon down by the neck, kissing him hard, and Jon can hear his moan in Brendon's mouth. They break apart, panting, and Jon grins, bringing his head close to Ryan, who is shifting on the bed from the force of Brendon's thrusts.
"Told you, just like you like it," he murmurs. Ryan whimpers and Jon bites down on his earlobe, feels him shudder, digs his fingertips into Ryan's scalp.
"Jesus, fuck," Brendon says and Jon looks over to watch him jerk already, coming with a gasp all the way inside Ryan. "Shit, I."
"I know, right?" Jon says, and Brendon blinks at him, then breaks into a grin. Ryan is watching Brendon expectantly, and Brendon bends to lick his neck.
"God, I wanted to do that," he mumbles, and Ryan smiles and then tries to hide it. He lies there, flushed and happy, twitching, Brendon between his thighs, and fuck if Jon's own cock doesn't pulse at that, because jesus, you can only ask so much of a guy.
"Yeah, great, now let me--" he begins, but Brendon shushes him.
"No no, wait, wait," he says, muffled in Ryan's collarbone. He nudges his hips forward, and Ryan rolls against him, making a small, pleased noise. Jon mutters a curse, shaking his head, because of course Brendon wants to go again, the fucker. Fucking teenager with his fucking thirty second recovery time. Jon sighs a little, reaching down to stroke his own dick, watching as Ryan pulls his knees up a little more so Brendon can angle in.
Ryan turns to look at him, eyes shining, and then reaches out, arm at an awkward angle but still managing to find Jon's cock, like he's got a fucking homing device for that sort of thing. Jon moans as Ryan's fingers squeeze tight, pulling, and Jon sees his other hand go for his own groin.
Jon doesn't mean to come from that, but watching Brendon pound Ryan, Ryan stroking himself in time with Jon, he gets caught up and feels himself falling before he realizes what's happening. With a groan, he comes across Ryan's fingers, strings of it clinging to his knuckles. Ryan's hand pauses on his own cock and he lets go of Jon, bringing his fingers to his mouth and licking them clean.
Jon hears Brendon's breath stutter, and he chuckles, glancing up. And fuck, he looks good, Jon had been so right, they do look good, sliding together, they look great. Ryan is obviously pleased, maybe even more so than usual when he has a cock inside him, and even though Jon loses sight of Brendon's face as he bites down on Ryan's shoulder, he had seen enough of his expression before to know that Brendon is pretty goddamn satisfied too, hips still shifting against Ryan.
There is just one thing missing from the picture.
* * *
Ryan was fiddling with the keycard and talking on the phone when Spencer happened to come out of the room across the hall. Jon stopped him, whispering conspiratorially. "Did you know Ryan totally has a crush on Brendon?"
The slightly annoyed look Spencer gave him resembled what you might have expected if Jon had asked "hey, did you know the earth is totally round?" He didn't reply.
"So Brendon and Ryan don't have sex."
"Please tell me you didn't just figure that out. How long have you been sleeping with him?"
"You mean Ryan?"
The suffering look remained.
"That's totally not the point. My point is that Brendon and Ryan aren't fucking."
"Not that I know of."
"And you would know."
Spencer snorted. "Come on, if Brendon fucked Ryan, everyone on the tour would know. Event staff would know."
Jon chuckled. "Okay, true. But do you think Brendon wants to?"
Spencer shrugged. "I don't know. Probably."
"What about you?"
"What about me?"
"You've never fucked Ryan, either, have you?
Spencer shook his head.
"Why not?"
Glancing over at Ryan, who had all but given up with the door and was busy bitching out whoever was on the other end of the line, Spencer said, "We've been friends for a really long time. Not to mention bandmates. I'm not an idiot."
Jon decided to let the boring excuses slide, because it didn't escape Jon's notice that "I'm straight" or "I'm not actually attracted to Ryan" were not at the top of the list. Jon studied his face, and Spencer stared back. Jon heard the door finally open, and asked quickly, "Would you, if the opportunity presented itself?"
Spencer's eyes darkened visibly. "I'm not an idiot."
* * *
Jon finally slips his hand out from under Ryan's head and Ryan is too caught up to notice. Neither of them even looks up when Jon gets off the bed, retrieving his Sidekick from the floor. Ryan does, however, happen to glance over right as Jon is taking the picture.
"Hey, what the fuck?" he asks. Jon is already preparing to send the message. "What are you doing?"
Jon flicks his gaze up. "For my scrapbook," he says with a shrug.
"Come on."
"William wanted pictures?"
Ryan gives him a look. "No, really."
"Okay, fine. I'm messaging Spencer. I think he needs to see this."
"You're not serious," Ryan says, already beginning to squirm under Brendon, who is really not hiding his smirk very effectively.
"Sure I am," Jon replies. "When I said we should all have sex, I meant it. And I meant all of us. It's not really fair to leave Spencer out, now, is it?"
Brendon looks like he agrees, but Ryan speaks first. "Yes, god, it would be fine to leave him out. You can't--" He bucks again. "He's my friend."
"And I'm chopped fucking liver?" Brendon asks.
"Shut up," Ryan says, not looking away from Jon.
"Ryan, you didn't want Brendon to stay, either, and you're not exactly complaining now."
"Fuck you," Ryan spits.
"You're really going to fight me on this?" Jon asks. "You're not going to cooperate?"
"Fuck, no, I'm not going to cooperate. God."
Jon pauses, giving Ryan a second, but he doesn't change his mind. "Okay," Jon says. He makes a decision.
"Brendon, hold him down." Jon lays his Sidekick aside and quickly digs in his bag, pulling an old belt out of the bottom. It's one of those woven fabric ones, and so soft and broken in that Jon can't even wear it anymore, a couple of the grommets torn lose from the holes.
Brendon has Ryan's wrists pinned to the bed and Ryan is making a pretty good show of fighting him, but Brendon clearly has the advantage.
"God, don't," Ryan sputters, trying to pull his arms away as Jon wraps the belt a couple of times around his wrists before securing it to a bar on the headboard. "Don't send that to Spencer, please."
Jon looks down at him. "You want to be fucked, what's wrong with Spencer?"
"Please," Ryan says, eyes wide, and he is so playing it up now, Jon can tell. "You can fuck me, and Brendon, just."
"You want us to fuck you but not Spence?"
Ryan shakes his head. "Not Spence."
"You're lying," Brendon says softly, sitting on Ryan's thigh and still leaning down over him even though Ryan can no longer escape.
"Brendon's right. I think you'd love Spencer to fuck you, you just can't admit it. I think you've wanted him to for a long time."
Shaking his head again, Ryan doesn't look either of them in the eye. Jon rises, picks up his Sidekick and finishes sending the message.
By the time he's done, he's nearly hard again, just from seeing Ryan tied to the bed, the way Brendon's teasing his cock. "Hey," he says, moving a bit closer. Brendon looks at him, and grabs his cock with his other hand. Jon shudders at that, too soon, but his dick isn't really protesting at Brendon's fingers, pulling firmly, rhythm steady. Jon looks down at Ryan, sees him frowning, and brushes Brendon's hand away. He climbs over in between Ryan's legs, and despite the frown, Ryan tilts his head back and hisses when Jon pushes in.
Inside it's slick heat and Ryan is clenching down around him, quivering but still arching up to meet him. Brendon's hand trails down his back, and Jon has a flash of thinking he could do this forever, just not stop, like, ever.
But it takes less than two minutes for the knock to come. Spencer is definitely not an idiot.
Jon groans and pulls out, letting Brendon stay with Ryan while he gets up, going over to the door naked, cock bobbing in the air. He has his hand on the deadbolt when he realizes he should probably check through the peephole before opening the door on their little scene; he sees Spencer's tousled hair and smiles, undoing the lock. He half hides behind the door when he swings it in, letting Spencer enter before he actually sees Jon. When he does turn his head he blinks but doesn't say anything. Then he glances at the bed, where Brendon had already jumped back on Ryan, and makes a surprised sound.
"Oh, shit."
"Yeah," Jon says, touching Spencer's hip. Spencer looks down at him again, then back up at his face. "So," Jon continues, "You want to fuck him or what?"
Spencer watches Brendon shifting over Ryan for a moment, seemingly entranced. After he finally blinks, he crosses the room, crawling up onto the bed and looking down at Ryan. He doesn't say anything, and Jon knows he doesn't have to.
Ryan is still hard, leaking against his stomach. Spencer just kind of stares.
"Spencer, you don't have to..." Ryan begins, voice wavering, although that could be from Brendon's cock in his ass.
"What if I want to?"
Ryan doesn't say anything.
"Don't you," Spencer starts to ask, his voice a little soft. Jon doesn't believe it for a second. "Don't you want me to?"
Still, Jon's patience is wearing thin, and apparently Brendon's is already gone because he shifts angles, pushing up sudden and hard, causing Ryan to moan.
Spencer twitches. "'Cause I'd like to fuck you, Ryan." He glances at Ryan's bound wrists. "But only if you want me to."
Jon's eyebrows go up. "You want me to untie him?" he asks.
Spencer smirks at him. "God, no. I want him to ask me for it."
Brendon looks over. "Why would he ask you when he's got me? Like, you know, right now?"
Jon chuckles, noting the way Ryan is conspicuously quiet, biting his own lip. "He'll ask. He'll ask for all of us."
"If Brendon gives him a chance," Spencer adds, placing a firm hand on Brendon's hip. "Come on, you've had him."
"Not done," Brendon says.
"Brendon," Jon tells Spencer, "is five years old." Grinning, he reaches for Spencer's shirt, and Spencer helps him pull it off.
"Then lets give him a fucking timeout and let him watch for awhile."
Even Ryan laughs at that, and Brendon makes a face at him. Spencer wrestles himself free of his pants, and then taps Brendon again. "Seriously, let me."
Jon hits Brendon on the hip, hard enough to smack, and Brendon jerks away. "The point of group sex, fucker, is the group thing. We can't have group sex if you won't let us fuck Ryan."
"If you both fuck Ryan, won't it be a gangbang, not group sex?"
"Semantics," Jon says with a wave of his hand. "Let Spencer in or I'll throw a bucket of ice water on you, then tie you to a chair."
"Actually," Spencer says, and he and Jon share a look. Jon smirks, hooking his hands around Brendon's waist, and, almost disappointingly, Brendon lets Jon pull him away.
Jon isn't sure whose groan of frustration is louder, Brendon's or Ryan's. "God, he was so close, too," Brendon comments, fingers stealing down Ryan's body, not quite touching his cock. Ryan arches against him, "Fuck," and Spencer crawls up between his legs.
He bends close, pausing before he actually touches Ryan's mouth, and Ryan hesitates, then lifts his head off the bed to kiss Spencer. Once he does that, Spencer kisses him back, hard. Jon sees Spencer catch Ryan's lower lip between his teeth, and Ryan makes a noise, mumbling something.
"Hm?" Spencer says.
"Fuck," Ryan gasps. "Fuck me, please, Spence, I--I want you to fuck me."
Spencer grins. "Since you asked so nicely." He licks his hand and strokes his cock, kneeling closer and then, without waiting, just pushes himself in, Ryan muttering, "Yes, please, please."
"See, Brendon," Jon says softly, hand still firm on Brendon's side even though the odds of him trying to climb back on top of Ryan are probably pretty slim now. "Told you he'd beg."
Brendon turns around, looking back at Jon, and Jon can see that he still has his fingers closed around his own dick, squeezing tight. "Hey, you want--" Jon begins, but he stops talking when Brendon shifts away, obviously ignoring him.
Ryan glances over, breathing hard and rolling with the force of Spencer's thrusts, moaning like he just can't help himself, and Spencer gasps, "God, yes."
Then Brendon is moving in, nudging Spencer a little so that he is more upright, not leaning over Ryan quite so much, and Spencer says, "What?" but Brendon is already swinging his leg over, straddling Ryan's torso and holding himself up with one hand braced against the headboard, near Ryan's hands. Looking down, he says, "Open your mouth," in a low voice. Ryan does.
"Brendon," Spencer says, obviously a little irritated at having to share, and nudges Brendon's back, inadvertently pushing Brendon into Ryan's mouth, faster than he meant to. Ryan tilts his head to accommodate him, allowing Brendon to set the pace he wants, quick and rough.
Watching Ryan take it like that, Jon can feel his own cock twitch, and god, had this been a good idea or what.
He is halfway tempted to call William and laugh in his ear.
Except that would require looking away, and possibly even leaving the bed, neither of which sound at all appealing at the moment. Instead, he moves a little closer, shifting so he can talk around Brendon.
"Jesus, Ryan," Jon whispers. "Can you taste yourself on him?"
"Oh, fuck," Brendon gasps, and Jon strokes down his back, squeezing his ass.
"See," he tells Brendon, "wasn't it worth giving Spencer a chance?"
Brendon's orgasm hits right as Jon says the words, and catches him at the wrong instant, or possibly the right one, because Ryan's mouth is open and Brendon's cock just isn't in far enough, and his come ends up everywhere, lips, cheeks, dribbling down Ryan's chin.
Sagging, Brendon slides back to rest on Ryan's stomach, ass nudging Ryan's cock. Ryan is breathing hard and Brendon is breathing harder, and Spencer hooks his chin over Brendon's shoulder.
"Holy shit," he says. Ryan is looking at them with clouded eyes, hands above his head, and he licks his bottom lip messily, as if he knows it's futile.
Brendon takes two more breaths, and then leans down, kissing Ryan slow and deep, licking over his mouth. Spencer tilts his head and watches for a moment, and then he rolls his hips, casually reminding Ryan he's there. Ryan whimpers against Brendon, and Brendon pulls away.
He turns to Jon. "Why do I think maybe I should be thanking you for this?" His eyes steal down Jon's body to where he is touching his own cock.
Jon raises his eyebrows.
"Because really, thank you." Brendon carefully climbs off Ryan, twisting until he's in a better position. He wraps his fingers around Jon's cock, bumping Jon's hand out of the way.
Jon hears Ryan curse, "God, please," and with a quick glance, he sees that Spencer has resumed fucking him full-force, Ryan pushing back against him as much as he can, hands braced against the headboard where they're still tied.
"Really?" Jon asks, and Brendon nods, "Seriously," giving a little squeeze.
"If you really want to thank me," Jon says, "Roll over."
Brendon blinks at him.
Jon waits.
* * *
"Talk dirty to me," William said by way of greeting. He definitely sounded drunk now, or at least horny; maybe both.
"I--what?" Jon asked with a laugh, eyeing the closed bathroom door.
"What are you wearing?"
Jon laughed again, curling his legs up on the bed. "Bill--"
"Already called Gabe, he was fucking stoned, talking about the cobra again. And not in a way I wanted to hear." William paused. "Tell me about fucking Ryan."
"You know all about fucking Ryan. We were all fucking him on tour, remember?"
"Mm."
"'Course then, there were more of us. Now it's just me, and jesus, that kid."
"'e's not that much younger than you, y'know."
"Tell that to his sex drive. 'Sides, you've fucked him yourself, there's nothing left to tell."
"You fucking suck at this. Say, you get Brendon to fuck him yet?"
"If I had, don't you think I would have called you to brag about it?"
"That's right, you promised me pictures."
"I didn't promise you shit."
"You should film it. Put it on your dvd. Would make a great--what's it called--um. Easter bunny. Egg. Easter egg. Thing."
Jon laughed. "And no, I haven't gotten my bandmates in bed together yet."
"Tell me about that. You just gonna watch Brendon fuck Ryan? And Spencer? Be all self-sacrificing?"
"Oh, hell no, I don't think so. I think I'd really like to fuck Brendon." The bathroom door opened, then, and Ryan walked out, towel draped loose around his waist; Jon forgot to finish the conversation.
* * *
After a second, Brendon does move. He wriggles up beside Jon, stretching out on his stomach, and Jon traces a hand up the back of his thigh, worming his fingers into the crack of his ass. He teases the hole with a fingertip, but Brendon groans, way too tight for him to get very far.
"Hey, Ryan," Spencer is saying in a low voice, and Jon looks over to see Spencer's hand grasping Ryan's cock, causing Ryan to moan even louder. "Are you going to come? I want to feel it, want to," stroking Ryan, and just like that Ryan arches against him, coming with a low whine all over Spencer's hand and his stomach.
Ryan is panting so hard he sounds like he's choking, and Jon leans toward him, scraping a hand down Ryan's belly. Ryan shudders, and Jon wipes away some of Ryan's come, coating his fingers, looking up at Spencer and grinning, "Thanks." Brendon looks wide-eyed over his shoulder and Jon presses a finger right in, starts working him open.
"You don't do this very often, do you?" Jon asks him, scissoring two fingers apart and listening to the hitch in Brendon's breath. Brendon shakes his head and moans when Jon changes his angle, scraping across his prostate.
"Well," Jon says, pulling his fingers out and moving into place behind Brendon, "We might have to change that." He guides himself in, pressing steadily forward, and Brendon swears. "Right, Spencer?" Jon glances up at Spencer, who is watching them darkly, slamming into Ryan fast and hard, and Jon can tell he is close, even closer from the thought of getting to fuck Brendon.
But Ryan is pouting at that, and Jon kind of wants to laugh. "Ryan, fuck," he starts.
Spencer says, "You think I'm going to let you forget this?"
"Besides," Jon reminds him, "now you've got Brendon to keep you entertained, he'll probably want your ass," Jon pushes into Brendon hard, "all the goddamn time."
Ryan twists his head and moans again, loose and pliant under Spencer now that he's come, rolling with the force of the thrusts. The bed's shaking with Spencer's rhythm and Jon finds himself trying to match it, like second nature.
"Yeah," he continues, "You know what this means, right? You're going to have all the cock you want."
And Ryan says, "But--"
"Don't try to act like you don't want it, we all know now."
Spencer mutters, "I know," and Ryan bites his own lip.
"And this," Jon says, touching Brendon's hip, thrusting hard into his ass, "Brendon... you can have Brendon whenever you want." Brendon kind of makes this noise, and Jon chuckles, leaning down over him and saying, "You like that thought too, don't you, that he's yours now." Brendon shifts over on his elbows to bite Ryan's arm and Ryan hisses, grinding down on Spencer.
Jon pulls out of Brendon suddenly, taking hold of his cock and stroking himself, squeezing and pulling hard until he comes on Brendon's lower back, right where his ass starts to curve.
Watching the splatter against Brendon's skin sets Spencer off and seconds later he's coming, thrusting forward into Ryan so hard he slides up the bed. Spencer shudders, panting, and after a moment, lets himself slip out. Ryan shifts with it, eyelids fluttering.
"Jesus," Jon says, noticing that sometime in there, Ryan got hard again. Brendon starts to move but Jon tells him to stay put, reaching around him to undo Ryan's wrists. Finally free, Ryan lowers his arms but doesn't go anywhere, looking steadily at Jon.
"C'mere," Jon says. Ryan eyes him and Brendon. "Clean Brendon up."
And Ryan does, curling around to start licking Brendon's back, Jon's hand at his head, petting him, and Ryan's tongue lapping over Brendon's ass. When he has Brendon clean, he trails up, following his spine all the way to the nape of his neck. Brendon turns, rolling over and catching Ryan's mouth with his own, reaching down to touch Ryan's cock. He looks like he's about ready to move down but Spencer beats him to it, quickly taking Ryan into his mouth, causing Ryan to moan loudly, bucking up, and Spencer presses his hips back down to the bed with firm hands.
Jon grins lopsidedly and crawls down to join him, nosing in beside Spencer to lick the opposite side of Ryan's cock. He teases the shaft while Spencer sucks the head, and he gets one hand up between Ryan's legs, sliding a finger easily into his asshole.
He curls his finger, stroking in and out, and that does it, Ryan is arching off the bed, noises muffled in Brendon's mouth as he comes in Spencer's.
Spencer maneuvers up the bed and Brendon turns to look at him. Before he can speak, Spencer grabs him by the jaw, pulling him into a kiss, rough, and Jon can only watch, breathless. It's not perfect, it's wet and messy, and Jon can actually see Ryan's come leaking out of the corners of their lips; Ryan stares with wide eyes. When Spencer finally lets Brendon go, Brendon's eyes are dark and he licks his lips, swollen from Spencer's teeth.
It's only then that Jon notices Ryan's hand on Brendon's cock, jerking him steadily. He thinks about helping but never really makes it that far, Brendon already tossing his head back and coming in Ryan's grip.
Ryan looks down at his hand and then brings his fingers to his mouth, licking a knuckle clean. Brendon reaches out and takes hold of his wrist right where the skin is still red from Jon's belt. Ryan lets him draw it close, watches as Brendon licks his own come off, as he takes one of Ryan's fingers in his mouth, sliding down before pulling it out, dragging his teeth along.
Spencer sniffs and Jon grins at him, waiting a moment longer, just kind of basking. Eventually, he gets up, and heads for the table.
When he turns back around, Ryan and Brendon are making out on one side of the bed, and Spencer is watching them with an eyebrow cocked. He glances over at Jon, who's grabbing his Sidekick.
"Feeling a little like Dr. Frankenstein?" Spencer asks, indicating the writhing bodies next to him on the bed and managing to sound satisfied, amused, and bored all in one question.
Jon laughs and lets his eyes graze down Spencer's body before answering. "It was totally worth it." He sits back on the bed and Spencer slides over next to him, draping one arm across his chest.
* * *
"Ask me what I'm wearing." Jon says into the phone.
"Dude, that's not how--"
"Shut up and guess."
William sighs. His voice sounds thick and sluggish when he speaks.. "You suck, I already tried to get you to--"
"Just say it, asshole."
"Okay, god. What are you wearing?"
Jon pauses significantly. "A naked eighteen-year-old."
William is silent.
"And uh," Jon nudges Ryan and Brendon with his foot, and someone grunts at him. "I'm accessorizing with a pair of post-coital guitarists."
William still has not responded when Brendon leans over and grabs the phone away from Jon.
"Hey, Bill. Look, Jon's going to have to call you back. We're not through here. Yeah, Ryan. You know how it is." He's grinning when he turns the phone off and tosses it aside. "William says you're a motherfucker, and he expects the gas prices to be lower tomorrow. I think he must have been stoned." He turns back to Ryan, who's got that glint in his eyes again. It'll take a fucking team effort, Jon thinks.
He grins, and lets Spencer shift more fully into his lap.
* * *

Brendon’s awesome plans are further complicated when he maybe overestimates just a little when it comes to how much booze he needs to take the edge off and make his nerves stop thrumming under his skin the way are, and he winds up maybe a little drunk. The thing is, Brendon is always a handsy drunk, and now it’s, like, ten times worse because Jon is his, and as such he should be allowed to touch Jon whenever, however, and wherever he deems fit. And that’s how he ends up pushing Jon into a bathroom stall and sinking to his knees.
“Brendon, no, c’mon,” Jon says, reaching down to pull him up, but Brendon doesn’t want to get up, he wants to stay right here, thank you very much, with Jon’s crotch in his face. He leans in, rubs his cheek against Jon’s fly and Brendon can feel Jon go hard against him and that’s pretty hot. “That’s pretty hot,” he says, and his tongue feels thick and heavy in his mouth, and that just makes him think of other thick, heavy things that should be in his mouth, so he presses a trail of wet, open mouthed kisses up the line of Jon’s cock through his jeans. Jon’s hand clenches on his shoulder, and Brendon needs Jon’s pants to be off, like, now. When he reaches for the zipper, though, it’s like the hiss of the teeth opening breaks the air around them, and Jon’s hauling him up, pinning Brendon against the stall door with hot, heavy eyes.

“Jon-” he cuts Brendon off with a kiss, which is a good idea because Brendon has no idea what he was going to actually say. It isn’t one of their normal kisses, though; there’s an edge, and Jon’s lips aren’t gentle against his. They’re rough and seeking, and when Brendon opens his mouth and tilts his head back for Jon, he pulls away, tugging at Brendon’s bottom lip with his teeth a little and oh, that. That has Brendon’s hips surging up against Jon’s, grinding himself on Jon’s hip and it feels so good that he never, ever wants to stop. So of course Jon backs away, but his eyes are all hot and dirty when he looks at Brendon and says, “Back to the room, c’mon,” and this can only bode well, so well.
Jon keeps close to Brendon on the walk out of the club, and in the elevator he plasters himself against Brendon’s back, presses his face into Brendon’s neck, breaths in, and when the doors open he keeps his arm around Brendon’s waist, caging him and making them both stumble a little on the way down the hall. As soon as the door is open Jon turns and pins him against it, and yes, yes, Brendon likes this, he likes it very much and approves of this course of action. “Brendon,” Jon breaths wetly against his neck, “How drunk are you right now?”
“Hmm?” Brendon asks, trying to press himself closer, trying to get Jon to tilt his head up so he can get at his mouth. “How drunk,” Jon says again, and it sounds a little rougher this time, a little more like a growl, and Brendon has never met this Jon Walker but he is approving heartily so far.
“Not drunk, “ Brendon says a little desperately, and he’s only lying a little bit; Jon’s hot gaze is doing its part to sober him up quickly and Brendon wants this to be over, wants to be done with all the protecting his virtue shit and get to the touching already because he wants to touch Jon everywhere. “I can be sober,” he says when Jon doesn’t immediately respond, and he’s pressing closer to Jon’s body, digging his hands into the dip of Jon’s shoulders; he wants to climb him a little. “I can be so sober, Jon,” he says, and Jon finally eases up against him a little, just enough that Brendon can wiggle himself closer, find Jon’s mouth, lick inside.
“Jon, Jon, c’mon,” Brendon babbles against his lips, his throat, his jaw. “Want to, please, please let me touch you,” and Jon lets out this noise that sounds like he’s choking, and then he’s half carrying, half dragging Brendon across the room to the nearest bed, and yes.
“Tell me,” Jon says, his voice low and rough as he gets Brendon laid out on the bed.
“Tell you what?” Brendon is trying really hard to make his brain keep working but he’s so about to get lucky and Jon’s hands are big and warm and everywhere. “Anything,” Brendon says as Jon leans down to nip at his collarbone, “I’ll tell you anything.”
“Tell me,” Jon says into his ear as his hands work down the long row of buttons on Brendon’s shirt, “exactly what you’ve done,” and oh. Oh. Brendon is maybe a little embarrassed to tell Jon that, because it’s, well, not a lot, but Jon is kissing the flesh he finds each time he undoes another button, hot open mouthed kisses soothing sharp little bites, and he will, Brendon will tell Jon anything.

“Four kisses when I was sixteen during spin the bottle,” he gasps out as Jon’s tongue dips into his belly button, and he thought that might feel a little weird but it doesn’t, not even a little bit, not at all. “I made out with this girl named Lacey at a party when I was seventeen, but she was a smoker and it wasn’t awesome.” Jon huffs a little puff of breath out at that, a laugh that’s buried at the waist of Brendon’s jeans. “Au-Audrey,” he stutters out because Jon just unbuttoned his pants, oh god. “We both-” he breaks off into a moan when Jon unzips his jeans, kisses Brendon’s erection through the cotton of his underwear.
“C’mon,” Jon says and Brendon can feel the words against his cock and all he wants is to be inside of Jon’s mouth, like, now. “She blew me,” he gasps out, “but I wasn’t very good at the rest and it was mostly just really wet and confusing when we tried so we stopped trying, and then she told the internet I had a small dick, but I don’t, Jon, I don’t,” and he realizes he’s babbling but Jon is still mouthing at his cock through the cotton, pressing a light laugh into his hipbone.

“I believe you, Brendon,” he says, and then hey, his pants are gone! Jon Walker is kind of magic like that, because Brendon’s pants are gone, and his underwear are going, and then Jon’s moving up his body, and that doesn’t seem like the right direction to Brendon. “Bren,” he says, putting his hands on either side of Brendon’s face, making him look at Jon, making him focus. “You paying attention?” Brendon just nods, and squirms a little because if he can get like one inch to the left he could grind up against Jon’s leg. “Brendon.” And yeah, okay, right.

He brings his eyes back to Jon’s, stares, waits. “Sure?” is all Jon says and Brendon just nods furiously, “Yes, yes, yes,” spilling from his lips, “Please, I promise, I want to, wanted to, just wanted to make sure I could be good,” and he feels a little detached from his body right now, still a little drunk and really, really turned on and he only stops the nonstop babble pouring from his mouth when Jon latches onto his lips, grinds down, and oh, oh.

Brendon is so distracted by the feeling of Jon’s cock pressed against his, hard and perfect even through the layer of denim that he doesn’t really notice what Jon’s doing until Jon wraps his lips around the head of Brendon’s dick and bobs down a little, bringing his hand to wrap around the shaft, and holy shit. He bucks up, hard, and immediately feels bad about it, “Sorry, sorry, just, mouth on my dick. My dick!” and Jon pulls off, looks at him, and jesus his lips are shiny. “Shutting up now?” Brendon guesses, and Jon just smirks, presses it into Brendon’s thigh, and this time he places an arm across Brendon’s hips, loose enough that he can move but tight enough to keep him from, you know, choking Jon with his dick.
It would be totally sad if he killed Jon mid blowjob. He stops thinking about Jon’s untimely death and starts thinking oh my god because Jon’s tongue just hit this spot under the head of his dick, and he can feel it in his toes when Jon presses his tongue to it again, firmer, before licking back over the slit, and Brendon knows he is really, embarrassingly close but it’s still a surprise when he comes a second later when Jon’s fingers slip down to trail lightly over his hole. He knows there are like rules and things, and that he should have warned Jon, but he didn’t know okay, it can’t be his fault if he didn’t know, but he’s too busy hyperventilating right now to worry about it.
“Jon, Jon,” he says, and when he looks down Jon is licking a little bit of Brendon’s come from the corner of his mouth and that’s so hot, Brendon didn’t know everything would be this hot. He yanks Jon to him by his t-shirt, licks into his mouth, mummers apologies while he licks his taste from Jon’s mouth.
“Shit,” Jon says when he pulls away, gasping a little, and Brendon takes the opportunity, pounces on him, gets him on his back. “Too many clothes,” he says, and Jon obliges by taking off his shirt because Jon Walker is a gentleman. Brendon fumbles a little with Jon’s pants, and Jon lifts his hips to help Brendon out, slides down his jeans and underwear at once and oh, hello there, Jon Walker’s penis. How very nice to meet you!

Brendon realizes he maybe says that last part out loud when Jon snorts, and he blushes a little and it’s pretty much the cutest thing Brendon’s ever seen. “So I’m going to blow you now, and it’s going to be awesome,” Brendon tells him, and then he pretty much just drops his mouth over Jon’s cock, totally misjudges, and starts coughing and spluttering when Jon’s cock hits the back of his throat, pulling back quickly.
“Brendon,” Jon says, and Brendon doesn’t want to look up, doesn’t want Jon to change his mind or make fun of him, but Jon just says his name again, and when Brendon looks up Jon raises a hand to cup the side of his face. “Slow down, okay? M’not going anywhere,” and okay. That makes Brendon feel a little better, and he slides back down, takes a deep breath.
“Wrap your hand around the base,” Jon says quietly, “so you don’t go too far,” and Brendon nods, finds the instruction strangely reassuring. He can totally do this. He can blow the crap out of Jon. He leans down, takes a little lick at the head, and feels Jon tense under him.
“Bad?”
“N-no,” Jon says, breath stuttering out. “No, you’re doing good, it’s so good,” and Brendon nods to himself, because he’s totally a secret blowjob master, he knows it. He goes down in earnest this time, sucking the head of Jon’s dick into his mouth, letting his tongue swirl around like Jon had done to him, tries to find that same spot. Jon’s hands are clenching in the blankets, white knuckled, so Brendon looks up, pulls off, and there’s this kind of funny little pop! noise at that.
“Jon, touch me, it’s okay, c’mon,” and when he leans back down Jon threads his fingers into Brendon’s hair, not pushing or guiding, just resting, skritching a little at his scalp, calluses dragging over the sweet spot behind his ear. He’s reminded ridiculously of feeling like a kitty again and he purrs a little around Jon’s cock and oh, okay, apparently that’s a good thing because Jon’s fingers in his hair tighten almost painfully.
“Brendon, c’mon, you gotta,” Jon grits out, and Brendon realizes he’s mostly just watching Jon, his mouth around Jon’s cock but not actually moving, and he twists his hand a little around the bottom, touches Jon like he touches himself, and there’s this little tang in his mouth now, salty and heavy and all of a sudden Brendon wants nothing more than for Jon Walker to come in his mouth. Check him out. Brendon Urie: Total Sex Pervert. Screw being an Asexual Cuddling Master, this will look so much cooler on his business cards. He pulls off to run his hand over Jon a few times, just long strokes; he wants to see how it looks, Jon’s cock in his hand, and when his thumb brushes over the head on the down stroke Jon suddenly tenses and comes, hard and messy all over Brendon’s hand and his own thigh.
“Shit,” Brendon says, mostly to himself, but he makes do, licks the come off of his hand, decides he kind of likes it, and leans back down to lick the rest from Jon’s thigh. “Brendon, shit,” Jon says, and then he’s being pulled up the bed and pressed to Jon’s side, and Jon’s hands are everywhere, stroking and petting, and it’s pretty awesome, his skin still tingly from his orgasm, Jon’s hands wide and strong against his skin.
“That was so much better than anything ever,” Brendon sighs happily into Jon’s skin, and he can feel Jon’s laugh rumble through his entire chest. “Hey, no,” Brendon says and clings a little when he feels Jon try to get up. But he’s pretty sure he’s not supposed to be clingy after sex, so he quickly amends it with an “Or, whatever,” and lets go. Jon grins, drops a kiss to his forehead, and says, “I’m just gonna get the lights.” Brendon does not even pretend to not stare at Jon’s ass when he walks toward the light switch.
Speaking of. “Hey,” Brendon says as the rooms plunges into darkness, “when are we gonna,” but then Jon’s climbing back into bed, spreading the comforter over them, curling up warm against Brendon’s back. “Shh,” Jon whispers against his neck, “there’s time for that.”
*
The next morning, Brendon is maybe skipping a little as he follows Jon out of the elevator and into the lobby, humming A Whole New World quietly to himself, and Spencer says, “HAH!” really loudly and holds his hand out to Ryan. “$50, dude, you never bet against A Whole New World, come on, pay up.”
“Coulda been Part Of Your World,” Ryan mumbles and he hands a wad of crumpled bills to Spencer.
*
Brendon hates the bus a little, but only a little because it’s all Ryan and Spencer’s fault, really, with their ridiculous Rules For PDA, it’s not really the bus’s fault that Ryan and Spencer are dicks. Spencer had gotten the rules laminated and there was a copy in every room. Brendon has no idea how he managed that, but he doesn’t like to ask too many questions about how Spencer gets things done in general. He’s still holding out hope that Spencer maybe has some mysterious super power, or is also a secret genie in addition to being a creeping ninja. When he shares this theory with Jon, he’s rewarded with a careful head tilt and a, “Huh. That maybe makes a little sense.” They both hum Friend Like Me around Spencer for the rest of the day.
That does not change the fact that there are now rules for how Brendon is allowed to touch Jon, and there were never rules before so he mostly wears Ryan and Spencer down by steadfastly refusing to honor the rules: curling up in Jon’s lap during movies, leaning against his knees while he plays Mario Kart, shuffling over to rest his head on Jon’s shoulder during breakfast. The only rule they really refuse to relent on is the whole “No Sex Anywhere, Ever, In, On, or Around This Bus,” and, despite Brendon’s protests, even Jon tries to honor that one.
At least he does until he pulls the curtain back on Brendon’s bunk a few days later and finds him straining down onto one of his fingers, fisting his cock. Then Jon mostly just hisses out air, swats Brendon’s hand away, and climbs into the bunk beside him. Ryan and Spencer are out shopping, and Brendon is hopeful.
“Hi?” he says questioningly, because Jon still hasn’t said anything, just staring down at Brendon, legs still spread wide and hard cock resting in his frozen fist. Jon slowly brings a his hand down, brushes fingers against Brendon’s hole, and shit, yes please.
“Brendon,” Jon says tightly between his teeth, eyes squeezed close. “Were you seriously not using lube? Lotion? Spit? Anything?”
Oh. Yeah, that makes sense. “No?” he says. “It was kind of a last minute, um, ngh,” and Jon just lowered his head and licked Brendon’s asshole. Brendon totally did some gay research; he knows that this is a thing that people can do, but he never would have asked, and then Jon swipes his tongue up to Brendon’s balls, and he keens, arches up against Jon’s mouth. Jon sits back and Brendon wants to cry, the loss of sensation is so great, but he just whimpers a little, looks at Jon with his best pleading eyes.
“Turn over,” Jon says, low and dark, and It makes something in Brendon’s belly curl up tight, pressing against the edges, wanting out. As soon as Brendon is over on his stomach, cock caught immobile between his belly and the bed, Jon’s mouth is back, tongue swirling and pushing in, gently, and everything’s so wet. Brendon is panting against his pillow, he can’t help it, and he only realizes he’s pushing his hips back into Jon’s face when his cock drags over the sheets but Jon’s tongue is inside of him, flicking around and Brendon comes, sudden and hard, without a hand on his cock.
He collapses into the bed, heavy and boneless and tingly everywhere, but Jon’s not done, just pauses to breath out, “Holy shit, Bren,” against the cheek of Brendon’s ass, and then Brendon feels something blunt and wet pressing in. Jon says, “Relax,” light and soft, hand pressing down at the small of Brendon’s back to lower his hips back down a bit, “don’t tense up,” and Brendon tries, breathes out deeply, lets himself focus on the hum of orgasm running over his skin, and suddenly Jon’s finger is inside, and Brendon can feel his calluses drag and shit, shit, that’s so hot.
He whines and presses back, against Jon’s finger, says, “Jon, c’mon, you can, you have to,” and Brendon can’t help it, he lets out a whine low in his throat when Jon pulls his finger out and says, “I can’t,” and Brendon’s about to protest because he really, really can, but then Brendon hears the cabinets in the front lounge squeak, and fucking Ryan and Spencer, fuck fuck fuck. “Wait five minutes,” Jon says, and presses a soft kiss to Brendon’s lips before sliding out of the bunk. It should maybe freak him out a little, considering where Jon’s mouth has just been, but mostly Brendon just wants more.
When he stumbles into the front of the bus with the others a few minutes later, Ryan takes one look at him and says, “Spencer, fucker, give me my $50 back; I told you they couldn’t go a week.”
*
The thing is, Brendon is trying to be good; he really is. He understands that the bus is a communal space, and he supposes he would be pretty grossed out if he had to wonder if someone had been fucked on the couch every time he sat down, but, like, Jon keeps pinning him with these looks all hot and dark and venue closets and venue showers and quick, quiet hand jobs in the bunks are only making him want it more, want it harder, and he would really appreciate a hotel night, okay, because he’s pretty sure Jon’s going to fuck him soon.
He knows this because last night, while he was biting down on Jon’s forearm to muffle his noise while Jon stroked him, Jon said into his ear, “Wanna fuck you, Bren, need to,” and then Brendon came all over the place which was pretty inconvenient because he’d just done laundry the day before. But whatever, Jon is going to fuck him and it’s going to be pretty awesome.
“Guys,” Brendon says as they’re all in the front lounge, waiting for Jon and Zack to get back with coffee, “Guys, I’m going to have sex and it’s going to be pretty cool, I bet.”
Spencer quirks an eyebrow at him, “What exactly have you two been doing if not having sex?”
“They have been having sex,” Ryan says, not even opening his eyes where he’s stretched out on the couch. “Jon’s bunk is right underneath mine, remember?”
“No, no,” Brendon says excitedly, “like, we’re gonna have sex, boy on boy sexy good times, with our dicks.”
“Brendon,” Spencer says, staring.
“Dude,” Ryan says, sitting up on the couch. “Dude, no. You do not talk about that. Like. Ever.” His eyes are really big when he says it, and Brendon figures he must be pretty serious, since he’s making expressions and everything.
Jon and Zack come clambering up the bus steps, and Brendon makes grabby hands at Jon, receiving a hot chocolate and a bonus muffin for his troubles. Jon glances over at Ryan and Spencer and says, “What’s wrong with them?”
“I’m not allowed to tell them about stuff involving our dicks,” Brendon says around a mouth full of muffin. Mmm, blueberry.
“Right,” Zack says. “Leaving. Soundcheck in two hours.”
*
When Jon grabs Brendon by the elbow as he passes the bunks and yanks him down, Brendon is a little confused. But then also Jon is naked so he’s not going to say no, or anything. “Hey, hey, you’re naked,” he says, and bounces on his knees a little. He’s kind of excited.
“You should maybe be naked now too,” Jon says, reaching behind him to dig between the mattress and the wall. Brendon is not going to argue with this. He is also not going to argue about how he is suddenly pressed flush against Jon, Jon’s cock nudging at Brendon’s ass, because yes, hi, this please. More of this. Jon leans in close, and says, “Brendon? Ryan and Spencer are in the back lounge right now, watching a movie. That doesn’t mean you don’t need to be quiet, though.”
Which okay, Brendon can do that; he can be totally quiet, except for how Jon just started circling a wet finger around Brendon’s hole, pushing in slightly, and Brendon lets out a really loud moan without even thinking about it. “O-Oops?” he says, and then, hey, Jon’s hand is coming up, covering his mouth, and that’s pretty hot, he has to say. Brendon clutches onto Jon’s forearm, squeezes his eyes shut tight as Jon’s finger gets more insistent, and it burns a little, stings, but it also feels really good, Jon wrapped all around him and Jon inside of him. Once Jon gets his finger in a little, it slides in easier, and Brendon can feel it pushing and dragging inside of him.
“Okay?” Jon says, hot against his ear, and Brendon just nods against his hand, lets out a muffled sound of assent. Jon crooks his finger up a little, shifts it a bit and holy god, Brendon’s entire body jerks and he whimpers helplessly against Jon’s hand as sparks shoot up and down his spine. “Yeah,” Jon pants against his ear, “yeah, Bren,” and Brendon feels Jon’s cock hard and a little wet where it’s rubbing up against him, and oh he wants, and it’s not enough, just Jon’s finger.
“Mph,” he says against Jon’s hand, and that’s not getting the point across, he thinks. He bites down on the fleshy part of Jon’s palm, kind of hard, and Jon just hisses, so Brendon struggles against his palm until his mouth is free, whispers, “More, Jon, c’mon,” and then he whines low in his throat when Jon pulls his finger out altogether. “No, no, more, not less,” Brendon says, maybe a little desperately.
Jon just chuckles, and sets a kiss on Brendon’s temple. They’re both pretty sweaty - it’s hot in the bunk, pressed up like this, doing this - but Brendon just wants him closer. “Trust me,” Jon says, low and dark, “you’re going to want more lube.” And he slicks up two fingers this time, leans back down, presses in, and shit, shit. He hits right against that spot again and Brendon can’t even focus on the stretch, the burn of two fingers, because god, god, he wants Jon to never stop touching him.
He whimpers kind of pitifully against Jon’s hand, squirms back against Jon’s fingers, and when Jon twists them Brendon can feel it and he feels like he’s going to explode out of his skin. “Quiet, quiet,” Jon whispers in his ear, and then his hand is gone from his mouth and sliding down to wrap hot and wet around Brendon’s cock and that’s it; Brendon’s gone, spurting over Jon’s fist. He whimpers a little when Jon pulls his fingers out, and he feels a little empty, a lot hot, and when he looks over at Jon, Jon is fisting his own cock, staring at Brendon, and he holds the gaze while Jon comes, panting wetly into the dark of the bunk.
*
“Jon Walker, did you light a candle?” Brendon asks when he walks into the room. Jon looks down at the carpet, shuffles his feet a little, mumbles something about Spencer being a dick and slipping it into his bag. He’s kind of adorable. Brendon very much wants to have sex with him now.
“I very much want to have sex with you now,” Brendon says, and takes a running start, flopping down onto the mattress, “Take me now, you brute!”
“Brute? Seriously?” Jon asks, and Brendon just shrugs. He’d maybe been covertly reading another one of Ryan’s Harlequins about a rugged farm hand.
*
Jon’s cock? Turns out to be much bigger than his fingers, but also so much better, and Brendon squeezes his eyes closed, tries to focus on the little surge of pleasure that’s underneath the pain of the stretch. “Bren,” Jon says, and he palms Brendon’s cheek, makes him open his eyes. “I got, you, okay? Breathe.”
So Brendon breathes, and the head of Jon’s cock slips inside, and oh, oh. Jon stills, grips down tightly on the back of Brendon’s thighs. “You okay?”
“Yeah, yeah, just . . . just a second, just a second,” and Jon nods, leans over to kiss Brendon’s knee, and shit, it’s just so sweet he wants to die a little. “C’mon,” he says, wiggling against Jon; he doesn’t care if it hurts; he wants it all, wants it now, wants Jon.
Then Jon’s moving, pressing in slow, so slow, and Brendon can feel himself opening up around Jon’s cock and it’s, shit, it’s just so much; he feels like there’s something trying to scratch its way out of his chest. That’s got to be it, there can’t be any more, he’s seen Jon’s cock and he does not remember it being four feet long, but Jon’s still pushing in, then finally he stills and Brendon’s so full. He shifts a little, trying to get used to it, and then Jon says, “Hey, look at me,” and when Brendon meets Jon’s eyes they’re dark, wide, searching his face. “Okay?”
Brendon just nods, reaches up and pulls Jon down to get at his mouth. Jon kisses him deep and wet, and when he shifts a little his cock hits something inside of Brendon and then he’s sobbing into Jon’s mouth, can’t even help himself. “Shit, Brendon, can I, please, I need to,” Jon’s gasping against his mouth, holding himself so still that Brendon can feel where his arms are shaking.
“Yeah, c’mon, c’mon,” Brendon says and there’s only a slight twinge when he lifts his legs up, wraps them around Jon’s waist, and then Jon’s moving, these shallow, short little thrusts that make Brendon’s breath stutter out. “Jon, more,” he says brokenly, and there’s this weird feeling as Jon pulls out a little, this drag that’s not entirely unpleasant, and when Jon thrusts back in he hits that spot again, and Brendon’s entire body feels like it’s about to fall apart.
Jon keeps his thrusts steady, so that every time he pushes in there’s this explosion of pleasure up Brendon’s spine. “Bren,” Jon says, strained, “You gotta, I can’t . . . so tight,” and then he’s wrapping his hand around Brendon’s cock, and he doesn’t even get a full stroke in before Brendon’s coming in hot stripes across his own belly. Jon pushes in, deep, and Brendon can feel Jon’s cock twitch inside of him as he comes, and shit, SHIT, that was awesome.
“Jon, Jon, that was awesome,” he says, and Jon grins down at him, leans down to kiss him softly.
“This is gonna feel a little weird, okay?” Jon warns as he slides slowly out, and it does, it really does. It feels like Jon’s pulling him inside out, but when he’s gone Brendon feels a little empty, and he makes grabby hands at Jon. Jon just smiles down at him, wide and blinding. He says, “I’ll be right back, condom, washcloth, unsexy things,” and Brendon cringes a little when he twists his body around to settle down into the bed.
He watches as Jon walks to the bathroom, and as soon as the door closes he lowers one hand, runs his finger lightly over his hole. His skin feels a little puffy, tender, but Brendon feels loose and happy, because he totally just had awesome sex with Jon Walker. Jon walks back out with a washcloth in one hand, wipes off Brendon’s belly, and oh, Brendon wants to keep him forever. “Jon,” Brendon says, and smiles when Jon tosses the cloth at the chair in the corner, crawls up Brendon’s body on the bed.
“Good?” Jon asks Brendon’s hair once he’s settled against Jon’s side. “So, so good,” Brendon says, and he twists around to kiss Jon, light and easy. “When do we get to do it again?” Jon laughs a little against his throat, pulls Brendon down to rest against him.

“As soon as I finish my internet post about your dick, Bren, I’ll be good to go.”
Brendon nods, snuggles down against Jon’s chest, and then, wait. “Joking, right.” Brendon says, “Joking, Jon, right?”
*****************************************************************************************
With just the right combination of Jack and pot, Jon sort of becomes addicted to Spencer's cock.

Not that Spencer's spent any considerable time trying to figure out the exact combination or anything. It just happens sometimes, especially when they're alone in Spencer's house, sprawled across Spencer's suede sofa with a spent joint sitting in the ash tray and a half empty whiskey bottle on the coffee table.

It's like a switch is flipped in Jon's brain, and suddenly he's crawling over Spencer, nuzzling his way up Spencer's body until he's hovers over his stomach and says into his shirt, "C'mon, Spence, I can take it, I just need your cock in my mouth, need to taste you."

Spencer, to his credit, makes a valiant attempt to huff and push Jon away. "No, okay? I'm too wasted, I won't be able to hold back."

But Jon has already sunk to his knees on the carpet, facing the couch as he drags Spencer's legs over, fits himself between Spencer's thighs. He mouths at Spencer's crotch through his jeans and tugs his belt lose without waiting for another word.

"I fucking love being on my knees for you sometimes," Jon breathes against Spencer's thigh, and fuck, there's really no way Spencer can say no to that. Ever.

Although, he really doesn't have to say no, because Jon's not waiting for him to say yes; he simply opens Spencer's fly and pulls out his cock, and if Spencer wasn't hard before, he certainly is now, hi.

Jon swallows him sloppily, groaning as Spencer slides across the inside of his cheek. Spencer closes his eyes and starts trying to recite the times tables in his head. He concentrates really hard on not moving, on just staying still.

But when his hips buck forward without asking his brain first, Jon moans happily, and the sound vibrates through Spencer's whole body. He's only human.

There's no pretense of holding back after that. Jon's thumbs press hard into Spencer's hipbones, and everything's slick and wet; he moans Spencer's name, deep in his throat.

Before Spencer can stop himself, he wonders how deep down Jon's throat he can get. The thought immediately freaks him out, because he's not really all that sober, and he's running the risk of choking Jon. Another thought follows on the heels of the first one, which freaks him out even more: a little part of his brain wouldn't mind it if Jon were choking, just a little bit.

Oh, god, he really shouldn't, but. Spencer pushes his hips up, slides deeper into Jon's mouth even as he says, "Sorry, sorry," pushing further still.

"Yes," Jon gasps, mouth going slack. "Yeah, c'mon."

Spencer reaches down and grabs at Jon's head, tries to lace his fingers through his hair. But Jon's hair is too short, so Spencer just presses his fingers against Jon's skull and guides him forward. And it's the way Jon's face softens a little, the way his jaw widens, the way his lips are fucking glistening around his cock, that makes Spencer drop his head back against the couch and moan, thrusting his hips, forcing himself deep into Jon's mouth. He feels so fucking dirty and is still freaking out within the confines of his mind, but he can't help it, especially when Jon's thumbs dig into his hipbones almost painfully.

The alcohol and pot are adding to it, making everything fuzzy and loose in his head. Spencer knows he should be stopping now, that maybe this has gone far enough, but Jon's making contented little noises and urging him on with his grip on Spencer's hips. And then, suddenly, he's sucking at him, hard, his cheeks hollowing out, as if he's daring Spencer to go deeper.

Spencer would be better equipped to resist if Jon weren't also looking up at him through his lashes, his cheeks flushed and his pupils blown. Every inch of him is asking for more, and Spencer, god, Spencer gives it to him.

He reaches his other hand down to brush his thumb over Jon's cheek, and he leaves his hand there when he starts to thrust again so that he can feel himself move inside Jon's mouth. Jon's skin is damp, too hot, pink under Spencer's fingers, and Spencer just really, really needs to come. It's weird, because Jon's so fucking hot like this, but it's easier than usual for Spencer to keep it under control.

Except...Jon's really fucking hot like this. He starts mumbling, "C'mon, c'mon," mouth full, and his face just looks so blissed out, like all he wants in the world is to be here, on his knees with Spencer's cock buried in his mouth.

Spencer's happy to oblige.

He rubs his thumb over Jon's cheek before moving his hand back to Jon's head, holding him steady. He starts out slow, just rutting forward to rub the head of his cock over the soft sweep of Jon's tongue. Jon holds still, keeps his jaw loose and open, until Spencer gradually picks up a rhythm, rocking his hips forward until he feels his cock hit the back of Jon's throat, which. Fuck. Feels so good, even better when Jon tilts his head further back and just. Opens. Around him.

And then Jon groans, like he's dying, and then he's sucking Spencer again, deeper into his mouth, eyelashes fluttering along his flushed cheeks. Jon gets quiet after that, but only because Spencer finally works his cock all the way inside, as deep as he can get.

Spencer feels the way Jon's reflexes are setting in, the way Jon struggles to keep from gagging. It's. It's unbelievably hot, god, but it shouldn't be at all. There are tiny little puffs of air coming from Jon's nose pressed against Spencer's stomach, and Spencer can feel where his balls are barely brushing Jon's chin, and, fuck.

He pulls back to give Jon a chance to take a breath, but pushes right back in before Jon's quite finished, because the suction is just so fucking good, he can't think straight anymore. He needs it, and the realization is sudden, overwhelming.

"I'm gonna come soon," he says to Jon. Then, "Fuck, your mouth."

Jon groans loudly around Spencer's cock.

"You - you can come, too, just - " Spencer waves his hand in the general direction of Jon's fly, and Jon smiles. He shakes his head, mouth still full.

Spencer works back into his original rhythm; he pulls far enough out that Jon has time to gasp for air before pushing all the way back in. He feels hot all over, completely overwhelmed by the heat and the wet andohgodfuck around his cock, but at the same time, it's easy to focus, easy to focus on Jon. He's sliding so easily now out of Jon's mouth, and there's saliva everywhere, everything's so slick and hot and fuckfuckfuckJon'smouth -

"Gonna come," Spencer says, low and rough.

"Fuck, yeah," Jon gasps just as Spencer thrusts all the way in, too hard, and Spencer yells a stream of profanity that may or may not end with his voice cracking around Jon's name. He comes so hard, he's on the verge of passing out as he slumps back against the couch, eyes barely open to watch Jon's throat convulse as he swallows and licks Spencer clean, looking up at him as he kisses Spencer's cock as it starts to soften.

Jon's hips are making short, involuntary thrusts against the edge of the couch. Spencer can see the very stark, very obvious outline of Jon's erection, and there's a small wet spot showing through his jeans.

"Are you close, Jon?" Spencer whispers. "Are you going to come like that? Rubbing up against the couch?"

If possible, Jon's eyes go even darker, and he finally lets Spencer's cock slip out of his mouth. "I - "

"You can, I wanna see you. Tell me what you're thinking." Spencer barely has the mental capacity to form words, but he wants to see this, see Jon come without having to touch him.

"I'm thinking - " Jon's voice cracks completely. "I'm thinking about - " His voice is raw as fuck, and from the way he's still staring at Spencer's cock, it's pretty obvious what he's thinking about.

Spencer reaches down, rubs his thumb over Jon's swollen lips, and says, "You're still thinking about my cock in your mouth?"

Jon nods slowly and licks his lips.

"Is that all?"

"The - the sounds you make, when I suck you, god. They're so hot, Spencer, you sound so fucking hot when I take you all the way down, like you can't help it." Jon is panting, grinding up against the couch, his hands splayed on the cushions on either side of Spencer's hips.

"You look," Spencer says, slow and deliberate, "so fucking good when you're on your knees."

Jon drops his head back and moans. "Oh shit, Spence - ," and then he's slamming his hips up into the couch in an uneven rhythm, and when he comes, his whole face goes soft and his mouth is open, slack, skin shiny with sweat.

"Fuck," Spencer murmurs, dropping down onto the floor and pulling Jon in close. "Oh fuck, Jon."

And he knows Jon's lips are tender and sore, but he has to kiss him, right now. They tumble onto the carpet, Spencer on his back with Jon draped over his chest, still gasping for breath as his orgasm fades, and they kiss and kiss until Jon winces and pulls back.

Spencer blinks up at him, hazy and content, his own taste in his mouth. "Sorry," he says again, sweeping his hand up into Jon's hair and scrubbing his nails lightly against his scalp.

"Stop apologizing." Jon finally smiles, drops his chin to rest on Spencer's chest. "Just...don't expect me to sing you an aria anytime soon."

"Deal."

A minute later, they're both out cold.
*****************************************************************************************

Every story has a beginning.

+

Ryan twisted valiantly, urging Brendon on, urging him to go faster, harder, deeper.

Fasterharderdeeper

Jon pressed the back of his head against the headboard. Wondering not for the first time that day, night, hour… year - how the fuck had he gotten here? Gotten this?

“Fuck you,” Ryan grunted, nails dragging red lines on Brendon’s hip, yanking him forward.

Brendon’s smile was feral, a white thing in the shades of gray and black. He swiped a hand through the sheen of sweat and come on Ryan’s back. “Doing that. Fuckin’ slut. Say it. Say you love this.” He punctuated each sentence with a sharp rolling thrust.

Ryan’s eyes fluttered close and his nails dug into Brendon’s skin for more purchase.

Spencer smiled, not as feral but just as dangerous, at Jon. “Get up,” he grated out. Voice husky and well used, Jon’s cock remembered the feel of that throat and voice wrapping around it.

Jon shivered and obeyed, knees slipping on the damp and wrecked sheets. “What now?” He wished there was more to his voice other than complete capitulation. He groaned feeling Spencer’s mouth ghost down his side, skin tingling anew at the rough scrape of teeth and slightly chapped lips. “Don’t… fuck. I can’t again, Spence. No way.” He said laughing weakly.

His body was the ultimate betrayer, twitching and hardening. The want clawed at his belly again. How had he become so in tune with this, with them so quickly, Jon would never know.

Didn’t know if he wanted to know.

+

Sometimes the beginning was the end and the end was the beginning.

+

Spencer’s mouth closed hot and wet around his dick, sucking it to hardness.

Jon’s hips jerked forward, glad that Spencer wasn’t singing or speaking tomorrow. Drummers had that luxury.

Spencer scraped his teeth up along the underside, heat and pain skittering up Jon’s spine. “Holy fuck,” he gasped and grabbed a fistful of Spencer’s hair, uncaring if it hurt.

Brendon’s laugh sounded loud and too close. Spencer pushed Jon back against the mattress, fingers pressing into well used muscle. Jon’s eyes rolled back into his head and he jerked up as those fingers brushed knowingly against his prostate. “Could fuckin’ find that thing in the dark.” Spencer muttered wickedly.

Jon’s cock throbbed, painfully hard now. His hips twitched up, pushing down and back against the fingers. He didn’t beg; he knew it wouldn’t do any good.

Brendon and Spencer were running the show. Both Jon and Ryan knew that. Ryan was more vocal against it; Jon had learned if he was a good little boy, they’d let him come.

On their own time, but he’d get to come.

+

Ouroboros. Cyclical. Neverending. Repetition.

+

Brendon pulled out of Ryan. Ryan whined and pushed back trying to keep Brendon there. All that got him was a hard slap on the thigh. “You’ll get more. Don’t worry.”

Jon’s breath stuttered a little when Spencer slicked a condom on him the same time Brendon pushed into him roughly. “Shit,” he groaned and arched.

Spencer’s leaned down to kiss Jon hard, teeth adding another bruise on top of earlier ones. “You love this.” He said tugging Ryan forward for a kiss as well. Jon listened to Spencer and Ryan kiss above him, mouths greedy and wet.

Jon’s eyes closed. Too much. Too fucking much.

Spencer murmured something low and soft into his ear, finally pushing Ryan away, calculating laugh underneath it. Jon twisted back onto Brendon’s cock, trying to pull him deeper. Jon gasped feeling Spencer’s teeth sink into the soft skin of his neck just as Spencer pushed Ryan on top of him.

Ryan’s mewl and Jon’s own groan echoed loudly in the dark room.

+

To me the greatest pleasure of writing is not what it's about, but the music the words make. - Truman Capote

+

Brendon grunted, hips pounding bruisingly hard against Jon’s thighs. Jon spread his legs obscenely, draping over the edge of the bed as Brendon fucked him. Ryan rocked on top of him, taking just as greedily as Brendon and Spencer had before.

Spencer’s breaths seemed to echo louder than any of the other’s, next to Jon. The overly loud rasp of wet skin against wet sweat slick fingers made Jon turn his head, mouth opening trying to taste the music of the sounds.

Jon felt Brendon’s fingers dig into his hip, heard Ryan’s answering cry knowing Brendon’s hand had fisted Ryan’s cock finally. He heard and felt the thrust that marked Brendon’s coming. He squeezed down a little maliciously, smirking when Brendon cursed loudly and raked his nails down Jon’s thigh.

“Naughty,” Spencer rasped, stripping his cock faster, dark and glistening with wet. Jon moaned opening his mouth again.

Ryan twisted needily in Jon’s lap, rocking faster. Brendon’s hand still stroking Ryan lazily. He bent close to Ryan’s ear and whispered his permission.

Jon felt the warm spatter of Ryan’s come on his chest and it made him twist, jerking his hips higher.

+

Once upon a…

+

Jon watched, dazed and still painfully hard, as Brendon dragged Ryan’s pliant body off to the other bed.

They looked warm and sated, twining around each other. Jon had a hard time distinguishing where one of them began and the other ended.

Jon tipped his head back when Spencer’s fingers tangled in his hair dragging his gaze up to watch Spencer stroke himself.

There was a soft sound. A pleading one. A wanting one.

Jon swallowed, realizing it was his own. He closed his eyes and heard and felt the mark of Spencer’s release.

On his face.

+

…Time.

+

Jon felt the warm rough passes of Spencer’s tongue against his cheek. Over his forehead. Along his chin. Cleaning the traces of his release from Jon’s face.

“Fuckin’ love you.” Spencer purred into Jon’s ear, nuzzling almost gently against his cheek.

His fingers tore at his own thigh, nails digging in hard and pulling red to the surface.

Spencer’s laugh was dark and rich against his mouth, swallowing the taste and texture of the kiss and come, passing it to Jon like some rich exotic candy.

Jon gasped into Spencer’s mouth and barely felt himself come.

+

The endings of stories always mark the summation of a story.

+

Jon didn’t know when it would end.

Didn’t know when the scars and the marks would fade.

He hoped that when those faded that it wouldn’t mark the end of this season.

Spencer rolled over, arm clamping around his waist. “You think too fuckin’ loud. Shut up and sleep.”

“Start of a new day.” Ryan mumbled from under Brendon’s arm.

Jon watched the sky burn in red and orange banners. He and Brendon exchanged sleepy smiles while Spencer’s arm tightened a little more.

It was almost too much.

Almost.

+

The endings sometimes meant that it was a beginning.

And sometimes the ending just meant that it started over again.

Growing into something else.

fin
*****************************************************************************************
The first time Brendon notices anything, they're backstage. He's dripping with sweat and shaking his head to fling it everywhere, mostly just because that always pisses off Ryan.

Ryan says, "Fuck off, doucheface," and tries to hide behind Jon. That part's normal.

The weird part is when Spencer comes and stands beside him, because even Brendon realizes that he's smelling pretty rank. And it's not even like Spencer's just sniffing and saying, "I think I know who needs first shower."

No, he's smelling Brendon, nose close to Brendon's neck and taking long inhales. And he's not saying anything to explain it away, just breathing Brendon in, and okay, Brendon knows he's no Ryan Ross in vanilla deodorant, so what the fuck?

Brendon watches Spencer out of the corner of his eye, and then turns his head and looks full on when Spencer still doesn't stop. Spencer doesn't even try and play it off. He's got this look of total concentration (and not even a pondering kind of concentration, like he gets when he's trying to figure out the punchline for a joke about Brendon), as if he's paying attention and-- considering. Brendon waits, and considering turns into something else entirely.

The moment doesn't pass so much as Jon jostles Ryan and Ryan says that he's not sharing his weed and Jon says, "You little shit, I bought that weed," and somewhere in there, Brendon ends up getting first shower. First shower trumps long glances with Spencer; it's just a fact.

He doesn't forget the way Spencer was looking at him -- that's not something you forget -- but he's distracted enough while the others shower and he gets his shit together for the hotel that he sort of stops thinking about it. Not thinking about it goes out the window, though, when Spencer comes up behind him in the middle of the changing room and just...touches him. Touches his hip, to be specific.

Spencer touches him and Brendon freezes and waits, because, seriously. What? Spencer's usually all about the buddy touching: quick hard hugs and occasional wrestling matches on the floor of the bus. This doesn't feel anything like buddy touching, especially when Spencer's fingers tighten.

"We're gonna room together," Spencer says. It's not an order, but it's not really a question, either. Brendon's not really sure if he's supposed to say anything or not, so he just stares down at Spencer's hand and nods.

"Yeah, okay," Brendon says. Spencer's fingers squeeze for another brief moment, like he's happy with Brendon's answer, then he pulls his hand away, pausing for a moment to rub his thumb over the side of Brendon's neck.

The ghost of Spencer's touch lingers through the ride to the hotel, and it's joined by the heat of Spencer's body when Spencer stands right behind him in the elevator. Jon and Ryan are focused on arguing about who got the weed last time and whether it is, in fact, Jon's weed, enough that Brendon doesn't think they notice how indecently close Spencer is to Brendon. It's all Brendon can think about.

Brendon can see Spencer in the mirrored wall of the elevator, and he watches Spencer watching him and wonders if maybe it's Spencer who got all the weed, because he's totally fixating of Brendon. He's standing up straight, too, so he has to look down a little. Brendon can feel the hairs on the back of his neck starting to rise and prickle.

When the door opens, Brendon feels a little discombobulated not to see Spencer behind him when he can still feel him. He starts to step forward, but then Spencer catches his wrist and holds on to it so Ryan and Jon and Zack get off the elevator first. Brendon stops at the touch and goes still when Spencer's fingers wrap around his wrist. Spencer has to press a hand against Brendon's lower back to get him moving when Zack looks back over his shoulder.

"You guys coming?" Zack asks. Brendon nods dumbly and feels Spencer's fingers slip away from his wrist. He ends up following Spencer to their door, gaze fixed on the middle of Spencer's back.

Spencer unlocks the door with the magnetic key, then pushes his arm straight out and waits for Brendon to walk in first. He follows, right behind Brendon again, and when Brendon stops to kick off his shoes, Spencer's still right there. Brendon thinks it would maybe be kind of weird to bend over right now, so he just uses his toes to wiggle his shoes free.

Brendon throws his bag on the nearest bed, then turns around to see if Spencer's going to fight him for it. Hotel room beds are always equally foreign and just a little too stiff, but there always ends up being a fight for a certain bed regardless.

When he turns, he's ready to ask, "Are you practicing to be my shadow or something?" He doesn't get a chance, though. He can't remember what he was going to say, because suddenly Spencer is even closer than he'd been in the elevator, and his hand is sliding up the side of Brendon's neck, angling Brendon's head to the side and sniffing again.

"Okay, seriously, what's up with that?" Brendon asks. It comes out far breathier than he'd intended.

Spencer starts at the base of his neck and moves up to Brendon's jaw, the curve of his ear, his hairline, then back down to his jaw. He's so close that Brendon can feel the tip of his nose when he moves, the brush of his cheek, and, when Spencer settles at his neck again, the edge of his mouth just skimming Brendon's collarbone.

Brendon wants to say, "Spencer?" Wants to ask what's going on. But oh, God, Spencer's so close and he's touching Brendon, just barely, and Brendon didn't think he was going to get this again. So he clamps down on the questions and lets his hand settle, just lightly, on Spencer's bicep. His hand lands so part of it is touching Spencer's T-shirt and part of it's touching skin, and it's like something just flares. Suddenly, Spencer's touch settles, gets firm, and he's tilting Brendon's head this time so he can kiss him, hard and all-consuming.

Brendon brings his other hand up as well, because Spencer's solid and Brendon's feeling shaky already. Spencer kisses hard, opens Brendon's mouth up wide and licks long and deep, but he doesn't use any teeth. Brendon makes a little noise, low in his throat. He doesn't know how to kiss back to this, so he sucks on Spencer's tongue and stays open for him.

Maybe it's been long enough that Brendon's just forgotten how Spencer used to kiss, but no, no, when Spencer fucking grabs Brendon's ass in both hands and picks him up, then starts carrying him to the bed while he's still kissing him, Brendon thinks he would've remembered if that had happened before. And he especially would have remembered it if Spencer had dumped him on the bed and started tearing off his clothes. Which is exactly what he's doing.

Brendon lies back and lets him. He reaches out to help Spencer out of his clothes, but Spencer bats his hands away when he takes too long and undresses himself. They're both all the way naked, which makes Brendon's head spin just thinking about it, but then they're all the way naked and Spencer's fucking smelling him again, and that's just -- Spencer.

Brendon arches when Spencer sucks on his neck, kisses his way down and sucks on his nipples too. He's moving in trails, leaving Brendon's skin wet and sensitive afterwards. Nipples to navel to the hollow where his ribs meet, all the way up to his shoulders, then back down to his hips. Brendon's tingling all over, his hips twisting up in the air and looking for something to rub against. Spencer's hands on his sides, his thighs, finally his cock, and Brendon thrusts into his palm and hopes Spencer didn't notice that the sound he just made was more of a gurgle than anything. Spencer kisses a trail down to his cock, finally, and then he's fucking smelling him again, and Brendon would have remembered that too, if Spencer had smelled him before, but then Spencer's mouth is on his cock, so Brendon doesn't dwell on it.

One thing that definitely hasn't changed is Spencer's mouth. It's hot around his cock, sucking with the fucking perfect pressure as he slides down all the way. But just when it gets to where Spencer would usually settle into a rhythm, Spencer's pulling back, off of Brendon, and he's pressing his nose into the crease of Brendon's thigh, breathing deep. He wraps one hand around Brendon's cock, but doesn't move it. He squeezes a little, almost possessive, and rubs his thumb across the head, back and forth, back and forth, spreading precome. Then he takes his hand away, too, sucking Brendon off his thumb and settling in and licking across the tip of Brendon's cock. His other hand pushes Brendon's thighs further apart.

Brendon spreads for him, propping himself up on his elbows so that he can watch. Spencer's hands are persistent, pushing his legs even further apart.

Spencer rubs his thumb up the bottom of Brendon's cock, squeezing out another drop of precome, and after he's sucked that away, he drops his head down to tongue at Brendon's balls. Spencer moves his mouth lower, licking in long stripes, and Brendon doesn't even know what he's doing except tasting Brendon's skin everywhere he can, and fuck.

It's not like Spencer's ever been particularly reserved in bed before, but he's never sounded quite so pleased about tasting Brendon. Brendon's usually the one doing all the moaning, but Spencer's making these sounds that make it even hotter when Spencer manhandles Brendon's hips off the bed and spreads his legs even wider, so he can lick back until his tongue slips over Brendon's hole. Brendon moans loud enough to drown Spencer's sounds out when Spencer pushes his tongue into Brendon with no further warning.

Spencer fucks Brendon with his tongue, making low sounds in the back of his throat the whole time, "Mhhh, mhhh, mhhh." Brendon's voice cracks and he rocks back against Spencer's face, straining against his limited range of motion.

God, it's so good. It's so good, but it's been forever, and if Brendon's getting Spencer, he wants Spencer's cock.

"Spencer," he says breathlessly. Spencer doesn't stop what he's doing, so Brendon tries it again, this time trying not to sound like he's just moaning Spencer's name. "Spencer."

He doesn't think he's imagining that Spencer makes a vaguely questioning sound, so he goes on.

"Want you to fuck me," Brendon says.

Spencer's mouth is gone so fast Brendon's eyes widen in surprise. But that's nothing on how fast Spencer has Brendon flipped over on his stomach, one hand on each cheek and spreading Brendon open.

"Whoa!" Brendon says. "Whoa," he repeats to himself when he feels Spencer's cock against his ass. "Wait!" he says.

Spencer makes a low noise, and squeezes his hands harder.

"Lube," Brendon says, twisting his head to look over his shoulder.

Spencer's head is ducking down, and he's staring at Brendon while he holds him open. His hips rock forward in tiny little waves as he rubs the head of his cock up against Brendon's ass, and it's kind of hot, but, seriously. "Lube, Spence."

Spencer makes another low noise, and Brendon doesn't know what the fucking noises mean, so he starts wiggling, trying to get out from under Spencer so that he can get to his bag and take matters into his own hands. Which, speaking of-- Fingers first would be good, too.

And, y'know, condoms are another good idea.

Brendon manages to wiggle forward far enough that he can just reach his bag on the other bed. Spencer fucking follows him, too, keeping pressed tight against him, and Brendon reaches back and slaps one of Spencer's hands, gripping his hip.

Spencer makes a small confused sound and lets go long enough that Brendon can fish through his bag and find the lube and condoms.

Brendon twists onto his side and reaches for that hand as soon as he's got the lube and says, "Sorry." He slicks up Spencer's fingers and says, "Get me ready?"

Spencer's pushing him back onto his belly almost before Brendon gets the words out.

Spencer's hands slide down the split of his ass, rubbing and touching. It's not even teasing, more like he's feeling Brendon. Finally, he pushes a two fingers inside. Brendon hasn't done this in a while, but it hurts less than it might have because he's a little relaxed after Spencer's tongue.

Spencer pushes his fingers all the way in, rotates his wrist, then curls and rubs rubs rubs over the same place, like now that he's doing this, he's going to do it all the way.

It feels really fucking good, but good like all Brendon wants is more already, Jesus. He clenches around Spencer's fingers and rubs his hips in slow circles until finally, "Okay, yes, good. I'm ready now."

Spencer doesn't stop immediately like Brendon expects him to. He keeps fingering Brendon for a minute, and when Brendon looks back over his shoulder, Spencer looks almost fascinated, except there's an edge there, of what, Brendon doesn't know. Brendon fumbles his hand across the bedspread until he finds the condom, and he waves it in Spencer's direction.

"I'm ready," he says again.

Spencer twists his fingers one more time, then pulls them out. Brendon tries very hard to keep his hips on the bed instead of trying to follow Spencer's fingers. It sort of works.

Spencer takes the condom and stares at it for a moment, looking back and forth between it and Brendon, but finally tears the foil open and rolls it over his cock. He even smooths another palmful of lube over his cock, without Brendon having to ask.

His hands fly back to Brendon's ass, squeezing and pulling him open, and then he rubs his dick over Brendon's skin before finally, finally he starts to push inside. Brendon can feel when the muscle gives and the head of Spencer's cock pops inside, and it's a stretch and a little bit of a surprise and mostly a whole lot of relief because, fucking finally.

Spencer isn't going slow, exactly, but steady, so steady, pushing forward relentlessly until he's in to the hilt. Brendon tries to shift a little underneath him, but Spencer's hands are firm on Brendon's skin, holding him still, holding him down.

Spencer groans loud and pulls back just a bit. Then he's driving back in hard and sharp, fucking Brendon in short strokes and angling for his prostate.

Brendon's hard and out of breath and covered in sweat, and Spencer won't stop, just keeps on hitting that spot over and over again, and it's wave upon wave of pleasure.

Brendon can't do anything but shake and let out these breathy sounds because it's hard to breathe with Spencer fucking him so perfectly. He doesn't think it can get better until Spencer grabs Brendon's hips and pushes himself up a little, so he can get Brendon on his knees. Then he's reaching around for Brendon's cock, and apparently it can get a lot better.

Brendon just tries to keep himself upright and lets Spencer work him over. He's close, and he can't stop moaning, but he doesn't try to hurry Spencer. Spencer leans over and sucks on the back of his neck, moving along the line of his shoulder before tucking his nose right behind Brendon's ear, panting into Brendon's skin. Brendon can hear every sound Spencer makes, every hitch in his breathing and low rumble that carries up through his chest, and when Spencer finally moans, Brendon comes. He tries not to smash his head back against Spencer's, but it's hard because he's completely out of his body, and Spencer just keeps nailing his prostate and jerking him through it.

Brendon's body wants to go limp, melt into the bed. Actually, his body does go limp. The only reason he doesn't collapse is because Spencer doesn't let him. Spencer lets go of Brendon's dick after one last, tight tug, and clamps both his hands on Brendon's hips, keeping him up on his knees. Then Spencer lets himself go, fucking Brendon deep now, their skin slapping together, and Spencer's grunting into Brendon's ear.

It's too much, almost. Brendon buries his head against his arms and bites down on his forearm. He tries to keep it light, but he bites down harder, until suddenly Spencer's pulling out.

He lets go of Brendon's hip with one hand and Brendon looks back over his shoulder to see Spencer tearing off the condom and grabbing his dick, stroking himself off fast, until he's coming on Brendon's ass and lower back.

It's wet hitting Brendon's skin. No one's ever come on Brendon before. Or, not on purpose anyway. He doesn't know what he thinks, so his brain settles on, Spencer just came on me, which is plays on repeat while Brendon tries to catch his breath.

Spencer's breathing even harder than he is, gasping harshly. He's still gasping when his hands come out to touch Brendon again, rubbing his fingers and smearing them around in wet trails, until finally he uses his whole palm, rubbing slick and wet over Brendon's skin in broad strokes.

Brendon can't even begin to figure out what he's supposed to think about that, so his brain pretty much goes blank. Spencer lets go of Brendon's hips altogether so he can use both hands, and Brendon finally drops to his belly, Spencer still between his legs. Spencer keeps touching him, rubbing his come into Brendon's skin, and Brendon somehow isn't surprised when Spencer slides down and he hears the long inhale, knows Spencer's smelling Brendon again. But this time he's smelling himself on Brendon.

Spencer keeps rubbing until his hands start sticking to Brendon's skin, which means he's rubbed it in, Brendon supposes. Spencer licks a long line all the way up Brendon's spine, then flops down right on top of him, burying his face in the back of Brendon's neck, still breathing deeply.

Brendon's pro-snuggling, but he's even more into being able to breathe, so he rolls to his side. He has to fight Spencer, who immediately yanks him back, but eventually he manages to wiggle to a position where his chest can move freely, and they both fall asleep.

--

Brendon wakes up to the alarm, and to Spencer rutting up against his back.

At first he thinks that Spencer might still be sleeping, but when Spencer murmurs, "Finally with me?" Brendon realizes that he's awake. Brendon rubs his ass backwards, to see what Spencer does.

What Spencer does, is try to push inside again, no fingers or lube, and yeah they just fucked last night, but it was last night.

"Wait, wait," Brendon says, but it comes out weak, and Spencer's already there, the head of his cock almost breaching Brendon's body. Brendon actually has to scramble away a little bit, just managing to slip out from under Spencer's hand when he reaches to stop Brendon.

"Let me get myself ready first," Brendon says, grabbing the lube and squirting some onto his own fingers.

Spencer doesn't look happy at first, until Brendon rolls onto his stomach and gives Spencer his back, lets him watch Brendon stretch himself open with two fingers, slicking himself again.

"Mmmm," Spencer hums, stroking one hand down the center of Brendon's back. He pushes a finger against Brendon's entrance, waits until Brendon pulls out a little, then presses his finger in alongside Brendon's.

Brendon throws his head back, body riding the rhythm of their fingers, until Spencer pulls out, makes Brendon pull out, too, with a firm hand to his wrist.

"Now," Spencer says, and it's not a question.

"Now," Brendon confirms.

Spencer spoons up behind him, pushes in steady, just like last night, and he doesn't stop until he's all the way inside. Once he's in as deep as he can get, he leans his head between Brendon's shoulders, inhales deeply, before kissing his way up the rest of Brendon's back, licking up his neck, and rubbing his cheek into Brendon's hair.

Spencer settles against him, flush along Brendon's back, then runs his hands up Brendon's sides, all the way up until he gets to Brendon's shoulders, down along his arms, and wrapping around Brendon's wrists.

He holds Brendon's wrists to the bed, up around Brendon's head, then starts to work his dick in little rocking motions.

Brendon wants to move with it, work himself on Spencer's cock, but Spencer's weight on his back is too much. It's hard to breathe, hard to think with the way Spencer's holding him down. Brendon has to settle for the only thing he can control. He clenches down around Spencer's cock, hoping it'll get Spencer to go deeper and harder.

Instead, it has the opposite effect. Brendon cries out in protest when Spencer's teeth start to worry the back of Brendon's neck and Spencer starts moving his hips in slow circles, not even thrusting anymore.

Brendon clenches down harder for a second, waits until he gets the satisfaction of a groan and a real bite, then shoves himself back enough that he actually moves a little, enough to earn him the drag of Spencer's cock half an inch out and then back into him.

Spencer still doesn't pick up the pace though, so Brendon keeps struggling. Spencer's stronger than he is, and he's got all of his weight to hold Brendon down, and fuck, Brendon wants him to move already. He bucks harder, and moans, frustrated, when Spencer just slides himself back in deep and starts grinding again.

Brendon tries to start rocking, gasping into the pillow as he strains backwards. Spencer's mouth is right there when he whispers, "You're sweating," then starts licking in long paths across Brendon's shoulders.

Brendon's fingers flex as he wiggles his hands in Spencer's grip to test the give. Spencer's hands are locked, and he's not exactly squeezing Brendon's wrists, but still Brendon doesn't think that he could actually get away.

Brendon tries to wiggle his hands free, subtly, but Spencer's grip tightens the minute Brendon gets some leeway. The tightening of his grip is accompanied by a sharp thrust, and Brendon can't help the way his body goes pliant at the promise of Spencer giving him what he wants.

"Please," Brendon breathes. "Please."

Spencer gasps against his neck and drives his hips forward again. Brendon keeps his body still but turns his face against the pillow so Spencer can see his profile if he wants. Brendon licks his lips. "Please, Spence," he begs.

Spencer gives him what he wants.

Spencer's holding his wrists even harder now, though Brendon isn't trying to get away. He grunts against Brendon's neck, then noses along Brendon's cheek, dipping his head so that their faces are close together, even though kissing is too awkward from this angle.

Brendon closes his eyes, tries to match Spencer's breathing, but loses it again when Spencer pulls almost all the way out to slam back inside.

"Oh," Brendon says. "Oh, please, Spence, Spencer." He can feel that he's sweating too, now, feel the way that their skin is sliding together as Spencer's entire body rubs up against his.

Brendon knows Spencer's touched him like this before, full-body, sweaty, consuming, but it feels like more somehow. It feels like Spencer's trying to cover as much of Brendon as he can, take control of the most of him that's physically possible. His hips start snapping forward, and it's measured enough that Brendon can tell Spencer's still holding back, somewhat, just a little.

Brendon feels a wild moment of possibility, when Spencer's mouth settles back against his skin, panting hot and wet across his neck. He spreads his thighs just that tiny bit wider, until his thighs hurt from straining, and it's like Spencer's control snaps.

Spencer pounds into him, and Brendon goes limp because, yes, this. This is what he wanted.

Spencer's fucking him hard enough to move them along the bed, just a little, just enough that Brendon's cock rubs against the sheets, and Spencer, Spencer's everywhere, all around him and inside him and he's fucking him hard, groaning into Brendon's neck, and then making sloppy noises when he sucks on Brendon's skin.

It's enough. It's more than enough. Spencer fucks into him hard, a handful of times more, and the friction on Brendon's cock, the guttural sounds Spencer can't hold back, they fucking catapult Brendon over the edge. His whole body shakes while his cock jerks, spurting against the bedding and his own skin. Spencer latches onto his skin and Brendon can feel the rumble of his moan when he comes, too.



They're late. Brendon tries to make a run for the shower, but Spencer catches his wrist and hauls him back.

"There isn't time," he says, with this weird smile.

"Fucking fuck," Brendon says, grabbing his bag and stuffing the lube and leftover condoms back in it. They're all that he ever managed to get out of the bag, which would be funny, maybe, if Brendon didn't smell like ass. "Fine, but you don't get to complain about me smelling bad all day, because it's your fault."

Spencer's weird little smile widens, and he leans in close, sniffing Brendon for the millionth time. "I think you smell good," he says, voice low and rumbly close to Brendon's ear.

Brendon swallows hard and edges away. "Yeah, right."

Brendon grabs his bag and Spencer does another quick check around the room, and they're out the door in minutes. Zack hurries them out of the hotel and to the bus, where Ryan and Jon are already waiting, and from there it's straight to an interview.

Brendon's feeling tired, a little stiff. He'd like a bath maybe, definitely a shower. Spencer seems-- Spencer seems a little different than usual. There's the fucking smelling all the time thing: when Brendon walks past him towards the lounge, when they're stepping off the bus, when they're waiting in the green room before their interview.

It's not so bad when it's just with the guys, but there are strangers in the room. Random people who could see when Spencer comes up behind Brendon while Brendon eats a sandwich and drops his head down until Brendon can feel the scratch from Spencer's beard brushing his neck.

Brendon tries to keep a little distance, keep it somewhat appropriate, but when no one does any double-takes or anything, Brendon is a little miffed to realize no one thinks it's weird. Apparently knowledge of the band's "closeness" precedes them.

So he basically gives up trying when Spencer catches Brendon's hand when he's passing the couch, pulling Brendon down to sit close enough that if Brendon shifted a few inches, he'd be half in Spencer's lap.

"What's up with you lately?" Brendon asks when Spencer keeps rubbing his thumb across the inside of Brendon's wrist.

"What?" Spencer asks.

"You know what," Brendon says.

Spencer's looking at him, but not really. He's sort of unfocused, just watching Brendon's mouth, which, okay, is sort of hot, but really.

Then Spencer starts to lean forward, still staring at Brendon's mouth, and thank God Brendon's other hand is still free so he can push it against Spencer's chest and hold him back. "That is exactly what I'm talking about," he hisses, even as Spencer leans into his touch.

Spencer's hand on his wrist tightens. He keeps leaning in until Brendon gives him a little shove. He narrows his eyes, glances down at Brendon's hand, then back up at Brendon, like he's confused by what just happened.

He stares at Brendon for a long moment before trying to lean back in, and Brendon says, "There are people," and pulls his hand free from Spencer's grasp.

Spencer looks around the room, a little confused, like he forgot that there would be anyone but the two of them.

A lady pops her head in the room and calls out, "Seven minutes 'til we're going on."

Her appearance distracts Spencer enough that Brendon manages to put a little distance between them on the couch. He looks away to see if anyone's watching, if anyone's noticed, so he misses Spencer sliding closer. Brendon doesn't miss it when Spencer's hand lands on his thigh, way not appropriate for public, especially when it slides up even farther. Brendon manages not to yelp, but he does jump a little, and Spencer makes a soothing sound next to him.

"Dude, public. What are you doing?" Brendon says, trying to keep his voice down.

Spencer tilts his head to the side and grins. "Seven minutes," he says.

Brendon raises an eyebrow, because that doesn't really mean anything. But then Spencer's grin widens and his hand slides up so he can hook two fingers through Brendon's belt loop.

"Find a closet and it could be seven minutes in heaven," Spencer says, tugging.

Brendon stares at Spencer for a long moment because oh my god, what? Aliens must have abducted Spencer and brought him back with a different brain. It's sad, Brendon liked Spencer's brain.

He elbows Spencer in the ribs, hard, and says, "Oh fuck off, it's been like three hours."

Spencer nods emphatically. He spreads his legs and shifts his hips, and Brendon can see the outline of his cock, hard in his jeans. Spencer looks down at his lap, then back over at Brendon, pointedly.

"It would take us seven minutes just to find somewhere," Brendon says, suddenly flustered.

Spencer frowns at him and tugs his belt loop again. "C'mon," he says. Brendon's gaze flickers back down to Spencer's lap, and he can feel arousal tugging at his belly.

He licks his lips. He doesn't mean to, it just...sort of happens.

Spencer actually growls next to him, and Brendon shakes himself out of it.

"No," he says firmly. "Maybe...maybe after. I can suck you off or something."

Spencer reaches out again, like he's trying to touch Brendon's mouth. Brendon manages to catch his hand, again. He hope that it looks like they're playfighting, or-- something. He hopes it doesn't look like what it actually is.

"We can't," Brendon says, and Spencer's face falls. He actually looks fucking sad about it, not even just disappointed. Brendon feels inexplicably guilty, even though they seriously can't. "After," he says again. "I'll suck you after, okay?"

Spencer's hand tightens around his, but he lets Brendon go when he stands up. Spencer stays sitting there, though, which is kind of a problem since they probably need to get moving.

Jon and Ryan are moving toward the door, and Ryan tosses a look back over his shoulder in their direction. "C'mon, guys," he says, and Brendon turns to follow before he realizes Spencer's still sitting there.

He turns around, and Spencer's staring at his crotch, which means it isn't at all unlikely that he was staring at Brendon's ass a second ago.

"Are you coming?" he asks. Spencer licks his own lips, and oh, shit. Brendon guesses that turnabout's fair play, because now they're both going to be hard through the interview.

Spencer holds up his hand with a hopeful look, and Brendon sighs and grabs it with his own, helps pull Spencer up.

Spencer has some of the best balance of anyone Brendon knows, but when he gets up, he overbalances and steadies himself against Brendon.

He manages to cop a feel of Brendon's ass and his dick.

The interview is-- not the most awkward they've ever had, actually. Brendon can't stop looking at Spencer, and each time he does, Spencer's staring right back at him. They four of them are piled together on a two-person couch, so it probably doesn't look like anything that Spencer's pressed right beside him, thighs touching all the way up. It feels like something, though. Especially because Brendon knows that Spencer's doing it intentionally.

The interview finally ends, then there's the awkward stretch of small talk, because it's always good to make nice with the people who have the power to edit their footage in order to make them seem more or less awkward and dumb.

They've got a show afterwards. The bus is already at the venue, so they drive in a car, and Brendon looks for an opportunity, he does, but there just isn't a chance to get alone with Spencer.

Spencer grows more and more closed off as the afternoon continues. He spends the trip to the venue sitting across from Brendon and openly staring. It should be annoying, it is kind of annoying, but Brendon mostly just feels guilt and a low burning arousal.

It's kind of fucked up to feel guilty that he can't blow Spencer yet, but Brendon does. They get to the venue with just 10 minutes to spare before they're supposed to soundcheck, though, so it's not like there's anything he can do about it then, either.

He's pretty sure he's not imagining the way Spencer pounds the drums harder than usual, and he wonders if it'll fuck up the levels for the show. Mostly he tries not to watch Spencer, because every time he looks Spencer's way, Spencer is either staring right back at him, utterly focused, or he's playing, looking like the definition of sex.

Brendon carefully makes sure Ryan stays between them on the way back to the dressing room.

Ryan and Jon settle into the dressing room, leaning close together on the couch as they talk excitedly about something or another. Brendon can't follow the conversation at all, and he doesn't know if it's because they've slipped into that Ryan&Jon space where their conversations don't actually make sense to the outside world, or if it's just that he's not paying enough attention.

Spencer drinks a bottle of water, wipes some of the sweat away, pausing to touch Brendon's side, his shoulder, and smell him on each pass across the room, and then he leaves the room.

Brendon waits about half a minute, but he's actually worried about Spencer at this point, so he follows quickly after.

Brendon closes the door to the dressing room behind himself and doesn't even get the chance to look around before Spencer's grabbing him around the waist and trying to drag him away. Apparently Spencer was waiting right outside the door.

Brendon probably shouldn't be surprised, but his mouth automatically opens, and the only thing that keeps him from yelping loud enough for Jon and Ryan to hear him through the door is the way Spencer clamps a hand down on his mouth, like, a split second after it opens. Spencer pulls Brendon into his body, one arm a band across Brendon's chest.

Spencer is definitely hard against Brendon's ass, and the tension leeches out of Brendon's body quickly.

Brendon licks at Spencer's hand, and suddenly Spencer's moving, pulling Brendon along behind him. They don't make it very far, just a few doors down, into what looks like a storage closet.

Spencer tugs him inside and closes the door. He puts his back to it and watches Brendon with dark eyes, reaching down to pop open the top button on his own jeans one-handed. The other hand goes for Brendon's shoulder and pushes, urging Brendon to go to his knees.

Brendon drops to the ground and waits while Spencer frees his cock. Brendon's hard now, too, enough that he wants to rub himself through his jeans, but he feels kind of embarrassed about it, so he keeps his hands on his thighs. Well, one hand, and raises the other to wrap about Spencer's cock.

He works over Spencer's cock slowly at first, until the skin gets wet and Brendon's mouth slides easier. This is a good angle; Brendon on his knees, his chin raised, and his hand holding Spencer's cock down. When the head hits the back of his throat, it's not hard for Brendon to take him all the way down. He just does it once though, just to get Spencer all the way wet so that his hand glides easily; he's got to sing a concert, still. He pulls his lips back over his teeth, sucks hard, stroking Spencer quickly with his hand, and Spencer says, "Fuck, yeah. Like that," and threads his fingers into Brendon's hair, rubbing behind his ears, tugging at the back of his head when he wants Brendon to go down deeper. Brendon likes how Spencer's hands feel, but he still doesn't move how Spencer wants, not exactly. He works his hand a little faster, adding a squeeze on the upstrokes, to make up for it.

Brendon feels a little ridiculous angling his head back a little so he can look up through his lashes at Spencer, but he wants to see how it's affecting Spencer. Usually Spencer throws his head back when he really gets into it, baring the long line of his neck, his jaw tight from his teeth clenching.

He's not doing that now. He's staring right back down at Brendon, and sweet Christ, looking up might not have been Brendon's best idea, because Spencer's eyes are burning into him, watching Brendon's lips around his cock, and his mouth is open while he pants raggedly. Brendon moans around Spencer's cock, not as a tease, but because he can't help it.

Spencer's hips snap forward, and Brendon thanks every deity he can think of that he still has his hand wrapped around the base so Spencer couldn't get too deep.

Brendon squeezes Spencer's cock tight, slurps a little around the head, and goes back down. He sucks harder as an apology for not letting Spencer fuck his throat.

Spencer moves his hands, combing through Brendon's hair, then down to stroke his cheeks. He rubs two fingers over where Brendon's lips are stretched around his cock, and lets out this happy sigh that makes Brendon's cock twitch.

Brendon starts bobbing his head in earnest, stroking his hand down to the base, up to his mouth, down. He licks wide circles around the crown of Spencer's dick, sucks until his cheeks hollow. Spencer hips move forward, but in a rhythm that's easy enough to anticipate, and Brendon works with him.

Spencer keeps touching him, and every time Brendon glances up, Spencer's still staring down at him. His cheeks are flushed and his hair sticks to his forehead, but he's smiling. He looks totally enthralled, and it's so fucking hot that Brendon has to look away.

Spencer sighs, gasps, "That's so good," and comes over Brendon's tongue. Brendon holds him in his mouth, uses his hand to pull him through it. He swallows and swallows and swallows until Spencer's finally done.

Brendon gives Spencer's cock a few more light sucks, palming himself through his jeans and waiting to pull back until Spencer starts to soften, but. That doesn't happen. Spencer's dick is still hard in Brendon's mouth even though he just came, and Brendon pulls off, surprised enough that he doesn't even blush at the dirty sound that makes, an obscene wet noise.

"What the fuck?" Brendon asks, and it's stupid, but he stares at Spencer's cock like it's going to answer him, like it'll explain why it's defying all logic.

Spencer wraps a hand around himself and tugs, and Brendon watches disbelievingly until Spencer's other hand smooths Brendon's hair down and tugs on his neck, bringing him forward again.

Brendon resists, manages to scramble back a little, but then falls on his ass, legs flailing out.

Spencer looks down at him, eyes curious, until he apparently takes in Brendon's new position on his back and smiles. He's on his knees between Brendon's legs before Brendon can even blink.

Spencer reaches his hands behind Brendon's back, cupping low on his hips. Once he's settled, he looks at Brendon and beams. Brendon can't breathe, looking at him, can't look away.

Spencer leans in and kisses Brendon hard, even though normally Spencer was, well, not adverse to kissing after blowjobs, but certainly not likely to seek it out. Spencer licks deep into Brendon's mouth, licks over his tongue and cheeks and teeth, and it's so weird that it shouldn't be hot, but it is. He kisses Brendon until Brendon's bones are humming, and it only takes a matter of minutes. His hands move to Brendon's ass, squeezing and pulling him closer and closer. He rubs his cock up against Brendon's thigh, and Brendon thinks faintly that it's going to leave a wet spot, but at least they're not in costumes yet.

Brendon knows it can't feel good for Spencer's cock to be rubbing up against denim, so really it's just Brendon being thoughtful to pull away from Spencer's mouth long enough to slur, "Lemme get my pants off," and try to reach for his fly.

Their bodies are too close for Brendon to fit his hands between them, but it doesn't end up mattering, because Brendon has to grab for Spencer's shoulders when Spencer sets him back enough so that he can tear Brendon's jeans open and shove them down. They only make it halfway down Brendon's thighs, which is really fucking uncomfortable, but it at least puts them skin to skin when Spencer hauls Brendon back toward him. Their cocks rub together, and Brendon keens as Spencer opens Brendon's mouth with his tongue.

Spencer's as hard as Brendon, even now, and not frantic, exactly, but it's kind of surprising how intense he still seems to be after coming once already. His tongue is sliding into Brendon's mouth with an unmistakable rhythm, matching the movement of his hips. Brendon tries to kiss back at first, but Spencer's mouth is insistent enough that Brendon ends up just opening for him, letting him in to fuck Brendon's mouth like he wants.

He can't get much leverage to push up against Spencer, especially not with his jeans still around his thighs, so he tries to wiggle them off. It doesn't so much work, because the minute Brendon starts wiggling, Spencer's hips drive into his harder, and Brendon can feel where Spencer's cock is leaking enough to get his stomach wet, make the slide of their cocks together easier.

Brendon arches his hips forward. Their dicks slide awkwardly together, trapped between their stomachs. It would be easier if there was a hand wrapped around then, something to thrust into, but Brendon's having enough trouble holding himself up; he still hasn't been able to get his jeans down.

Spencer doesn't seem to mind. He digs his fingers into Brendon's ass, fucks his mouth with his tongue, and makes happy noises that Brendon can feel rumbling through his chest. And then he comes, again, all over Brendon, coats his stomach and his hips and his thighs, even though he just came. He keeps kissing Brendon then entire time, and when he finishes, he pulls away and nuzzles their noses together, eyes all squinty and happy.

It's a nice smile, Brendon doesn't have a problem with that, but he does have a problem with the fact that now that's Spencer's come, he's stopped moving, and he seems to have forgotten that even though he's come twice, Brendon hasn't come at all.

Brendon says, "Um," and pushes his hips up hopefully. Maybe if Spencer will just stay there for a minute, Brendon can get enough friction to get off. But almost as soon as Brendon moves, rubs his cock against Spencer's stomach -- and Brendon's not gonna lie, it's kind of a relief to feel that Spencer's cock is softening between them -- Spencer hums softly and pulls away so Brendon doesn't have anything left to push against.

Brendon whimpers at the loss, and Spencer smiles happily, then immediately ducks down and sucks Brendon's cock in. And he's not being careful about it the way Brendon had to be. He takes Brendon all the way in, tongue working his shaft and hand rolling his balls while he hums contentedly around Brendon's cock.

It doesn't take Brendon long. It can't take Brendon long because he's been ready for what feels like forever. Brendon pushes into the feeling of Spencer's mouth, the sweet suction of it, and Spencer lets him. Brendon comes so hard, body arching, trying to get as deep into Spencer as he can, and Spencer pushes his hips down after the first spurt, and he pulls off a little, enough that Brendon can't come down his throat.

Brendon's so wrung out by the time Spencer lets him go with one final suck that he's still gasping open-mouthed when Spencer crawls back up to kiss him. Brendon's so out of it that he doesn't even realize why the kiss is so sloppy until he swallows and realizes he's tasting his own come.

He forces his eyes open and stares at Spencer, but Spencer just blinks and grins again, like there was nothing weird going on. Brendon finally looks down, and notices that there's come all over his belly, which, shit. There's probably no way he can get in the shower without the guys asking questions. He looks around for something to wipe himself off with, but Spencer's around there. Except that Spencer isn't wiping it off. He's rubbing it in.

Brendon watches stunned as Spencer smooths his hand, wet and firm, over Brendon's skin.

He finally snaps out of it, and, "Dude, what the fuck?"

Spencer ignores him, focusing on his hand and Brendon's skin, and before he pulls away, he leans in and breathes in long and slow. When he finally exhales, there's a rumble in his chest, like he's fucking purring of something.

"Fuck, Spencer, I'm going to smell like your spunk for the rest of the night," Brendon protests.

All that earns him is another smile from Spencer, this one even fucking weirder, because Spencer's not usually a complete douchebag, and he's never wanted to broadcast it to the whole damn world when they were fucking.

Which...Oh. Oh, that's interesting.

"I smell like you," Brendon says wonderingly.

Spencer's smile widens.

Brendon shivers.

There's something weird about Spencer, maybe even something wrong, and in it all, Brendon doesn't even want to ask, because he kind of likes it. He likes that Spencer's completely focused on him, he likes that after they fuck, they don't have to spend a couple of days ignoring each other so as to act like everything is "normal." He likes that Spencer just came, twice, but he's not running off, he's still right there with Brendon.

They do have to go though.

"We've got to go get changed," Brendon says and starts squirming awkwardly to try and get his pants back up.

Spencer makes a protesting noise, but he moves back enough so Brendon can start to set his clothes to rights. He doesn't clean himself up, though, just watches Brendon and touches him. He touches Brendon's hip while Brendon pulls his jeans back up, and he rubs at Brendon's collarbone while Brendon straightens out his shirt, and even though Brendon's just come, his stomach does a little flip at it. He likes how intent Spencer's gaze is, how he's actually looking at Brendon while Brendon gets dressed instead of averting his gaze and straightening his own clothes.

When Brendon's done, he leans forward uncertainly, intending to help Spencer put himself back together. Spencer must misinterpret the move, because he slides his hand from Brendon's collarbone to the back of his head, pulling him in for a kiss. Brendon lets himself be kissed, lets himself enjoy it for a minute before he pulls back enough to murmur, "We really do have to get back," against Spencer's mouth. Spencer gives Brendon's bottom lip a little bite, then lets him go. Brendon helps Spencer up and lets himself watch while Spencer tucks himself back in.

Spencer's cheeks are pinker than usual and his shirt is a little rumpled, but the thing that looks the most different is the way he's still looking at Brendon like what they did was good, like he wants to do it again and doesn't mind who knows.

Brendon can't stop glancing over at Spencer while they get ready for the show. He feels stupidly giddy, but it's probably just the come down from an amazing orgasm.

Spencer plays just as hard in the concert as he did during the soundcheck, but not like he's frustrated this time, more like he's showing off. Brendon goes over between songs, like normal, but this time it feels kind of like this secret thing that they're doing in front of the whole world. Spencer always fucking beams, every time Brendon comes near. He only looks at Brendon; Brendon imagines that he can feel him staring, even during songs, imagines he can feel Spencer's eyes moving along his back.

They come off stage, and just like the other night, Spencer's right behind him, breathing him in, which gets Brendon rock hard.

If there were any possible way Brendon could shove Spencer right back into that storage closet, or get them any kind of privacy after the show but before the bus, he would. He would find a way for them to fuck again over taking a shower, and considering the fact that it's been 24 hours and three sexual encounters since Brendon's last shower, that's saying something.

Instead, it's constant motion, constant people, from the minute the show ends until the minute they step onto the bus. And it's the bus. Brendon wonders if he could convince Spencer to play Guitar Hero long enough to drive Jon and Ryan into the back lounge so they could fit in a quick fuck in the bathroom or the bunks, or hell, over the "kitchen" table.

Spencer doesn't even care that there are people around. He stays as close as he can get to Brendon the whole time, and when they step onto the bus, he starts crowding Brendon.

Jon and Ryan are already in the back lounge, setting up a DVD, so that's out. Zack's up front in this kitchen area. Which leaves-- the bunks. The tiny, tiny bunks, which are in no way soundproof.

Spencer and Brendon end up faced off, standing in the hallway. Brendon's still trying to come up with a better plan (maybe they could wait until after Jon and Ryan finish?), but Spencer keeps trying to pull of Brendon's shirt, right there in the open.

Brendon won't lift up his arms, so Spencer can't actually get if off. He can, however, get to Brendon's nipples, which is touches in light circles, sending sparks straight of Brendon's dick.

"Okay," he finally grits out, and lets Spencer crowd them both into Brendon's bunk.

Spencer rubs his cheek against Brendon pillow and hums. "Smells like you here," he says.

"Yeah, you say that now," Brendon says. "You just want to make it smell like you."

Spencer laughs low in his throat, then tugs at Brendon's shirt again. Brendon folds himself up enough to get it off, and as soon as it's out of the way, Spencer's rubbing at his nipples again. At first he keeps circling them with his thumbs, but that shifts into pinching them, and Brendon's breath, already caught in his chest, flees him altogether. He wants to moan, wants to cry out when Spencer tugs on one of his nipples gently while he twists the other, but he remembers the fragile privacy of the bunk and manages to choke the sound down.

It's harder to do when Spencer leans down and sucks one peaked nipple into his mouth, tonguing it and worrying it with his teeth before he lets it go with one last flick of his tongue. Brendon sighs at the relief, but Spencer turns right to Brendon's other nipple and gives it the same treatment.

Brendon managed a quick shower after the concert, but he still feels like Spencer's under his skin, and he wonders if Spencer can taste it. If it seems like that to Spencer, too.

Brendon writhes through Spencer paying attention to the second nipple, then whispers, "We should hurry; we don't know when they'll be back."

Spencer seems to like that plan, because his hands go immediately to the fastening of Brendon's pants. They work together to get Brendon naked, and while Brendon roots around for his bottle of lube, Spencer pulls his own pants down. Brendon drips the liquid directly onto Spencer's fingers, then rolls onto his side, presenting his ass.

Spencer pushes in with two fingers, fast and firm, and Brendon bites his lip to keep from making any noise. Spencer's fingers are good, better when he pushes in a third. He doesn't crook his fingers to get at Brendon's prostate, not like he has before, just gets Brendon open so that when Spencer pulls his fingers out and replaces them with his cock, Brendon takes the stretch more easily. It's still a little of a shock, because Spencer's cock is nice and thick, but Spencer sets the pace fast enough that Brendon doesn't have time to concentrate on the stretch of it. He's too busy pushing his hips back so he can feel the depth of it, get Spencer in as deep as he can.

Brendon hides his face in the pillow. He's trying to be quiet, but he can't quite muffle all of the noises that he's making. Spencer mouths along Brendon's shoulder, so the noises he makes are at least somewhat muffled.

Brendon was hard well before the actual sex started, and he feels himself getting close, quickly. He wraps his hand around his dick and jerks himself off, clenching around Spencer each time his hand reaches the head. They work together, Brendon thrusting back onto Spencer's cock while Spencer shoves forward, which makes up for the lack of space in the bunks.

Brendon's not sure, because his ears start ringing when he comes, but he thinks that they actually orgasm at something like the same time.

Brendon stretches out, teasing himself a little before moving his hand away from his dick and wiping at the sheets with the spare t-shirt he finds balled up under his pillow. It doesn't actually clean them, but at least he gets rid of most of the wetness.

Brendon cleans himself up some, too, hands fumbling a bit because he's already tired from the show. A pleasant, sated feeling settles over his body, enough that he only half-heartedly tries to pull away from Spencer so he can clean Spencer up, too. Spencer throws his arm over Brendon's side and doesn't let him get any space. Spencer's cock is still nestled up inside of Brendon and it's going to be massively gross when Brendon wakes up or, God forbid, if Jon or Ryan decides to poke his head inside Brendon's bunk to ask a question. Still, Brendon yawns and puts his hand over Spencer's forearm and falls asleep just like that.
*****************************************************************************
Pete comes to see their show the next night.

He doesn't doesn't tell them ahead of time that he's coming, just shows up sidestage. Brendon notices after the third song, and grins and waves excitedly, continuing to sing.

When the concert finishes, he bounces off stage and throws himself at Pete. "Dude, hey! You came!"

Pete's voice is muffled against his shoulder, but Brendon thinks he hears him say, "I did! Nice observation skills."

Brendon squeezes him a little tighter in response, until Pete smacks his back and pushes him away a little. "You smell rank, dude," Pete says, waving a hand in front of his face.

"You love it," Brendon says, and ducks his head when Pete slings an arm around his shoulders and gives his arm a squeeze.

"Good show," Pete says more seriously, and flashes his teeth in a wide smile. Brendon smiles back happily, because honestly, Pete's encouragement never gets old.

But then the smile freezes on Pete's face and fades slowly while he looks off to Brendon's right. "Dude, what's up with Spencer?" Pete asks.

"What?" Brendon asks, and turns to look.

Spencer's actually right there. Like, two feet away from Brendon. And glaring. Brendon didn't hear him come up, so he's surprised when he sees Spencer, then uncomfortable when he sees that Spencer's... upset? Brendon's not really sure what's going on.

Brendon gives Pete's shoulder another squeeze. "Where're you saying tonight?"

"Hotel," Pete says. "But fucked if I can remember the name. They all just--"

"Blend into each other," Brendon finishes. "Yeah."

Spencer makes a low noise. This time, when Brendon turns around, he's maybe six inches away.

"Um, hey," Brendon says, shifting under Pete's arm. "Pete's got a hotel, and I don't want to make any assumptions here, but I'm thinking he was just about to ask if we wanted to come take advantage of his cable and mini fridge."

Pete laughs a little uncomfortably when Spencer doesn't. Spencer isn't even looking at Pete until Pete pats a hand on Brendon's chest and says, "Dream on, dude."

Then, oh, then Spencer's looking at Pete. His eyes settle on Pete's hand, then fly to his face, and he looks fucking pissed, teeth bared almost like a snarl.

Brendon can feel his eyes widen at that look, and he lets out a surprised squeak when Spencer grabs Brendon's wrist and jerks him away from Pete

Spencer's got long fucking legs and he can walk fast. Brendon has to scramble to keep up. It's either that, or have his arm wrenched out of his socket, because Spencer's not letting go.

"Spence," Brendon says, a little desperately when Spencer jerks him around a corner. "What? What's wrong?"

Spencer's head looks straight forward, and he doesn't respond. He marches them through the back of the arena, until they come to the bathrooms, then he pushes Brendon inside the gender-neutral, single-person bathroom, locking the door behind them.

"What?" Brendon asks again, panting a little.

Spencer doesn't say anything to that when he turns back to Brendon, which Brendon's been getting way too used to over the past few days. Instead, he grabs Brendon's arm again and forces him around, until he has Brendon shoved up against the sink.

"Stay," he says, and Brendon holds still, staring at his own reflection in the mirror. His cheeks are flushed and damp with sweat, his hair mussed from the show, and his mouth is open in surprise. He watches his eyes widen when Spencer hauls Brendon's hips a few inches back from the edge of the sink that's connected to the wall and gets his fly open with frightening efficiency and shoves them down until Brendon's ass is bared. Then he pushes Brendon back forward and hooks one of his legs up over the edge of the sink even while Brendon can hear him opening his own jeans.

Then Spencer's pressed up against him, dick hard against his lower back, and Brendon stops watching himself because there's Spencer, looking wild and completely out of control.

Brendon's rock hard just like that. He arches against Spencer, which makes Spencer tighten his hands around Brendon's hips, holding him still.

Brendon can't look away from the mirror. Spencer's face is twisted, but he looks fucking gorgeous, fucking scary, like this. Brendon tries to stay quiet, but his heart is jackhammering so hard in his chest, he thinks that Spencer is going to be able to hear that anyway.

It's been hours and a shower since the last time they fucked, and when Spencer starts to push in, no fingers or anything, it hurts.

Brendon's voice cracks. "I'm sorry." Even though he doesn't know what he did. There's a bottle of hand lotion beside the soap, and Brendon grabs for it uncoordinatedly, trying to pull it forward on the counter. "Spencer, please, Spencer. I'm sorry."

Spencer's hips stop pushing forward at that, and Brendon glances up to see Spencer looking over Brendon's shoulder to see what he's doing. Spencer moves one hand from the back of Brendon's thigh and reaches forward, and for a minute, Brendon's afraid he's going to push Brendon's hand down and hold it against the sink. But Spencer's hand closes around Brendon's on the bottle of lotion, pulling it forward, and he lets Brendon pump some into his hand. He pulls Brendon's hand back by the wrist and closes it around his cock. Brendon's shoulder hitches uncomfortably and he can't see what he's doing, but Spencer guides his hand up and down until Spencer's cock is slick, and Brendon lets out a little dry sob of relief that when Spencer pushes back forward, his dick isn't dry, even if the stretch is so intense Brendon shudders and drops his chin to his chest.

It's sharp and pressurepressurepressure. Brendon feels every movement that Spencer makes, every slow, steady push forward. It's not painful exactly, except in the intensity. Brendon's eyes fall shut; he can't focus on everything that's happening, it's too much.

When Spencer notices, he thrusts forward sharply. Brendon's eyes snap open, meeting Spencer's in the mirror. Spencer is staring at him. It doesn't feel like looking into a mirror; it feels like Spencer's everywhere and can see everything. Brendon cries out, and the sound echoes hollowly in the tiny room.

Now that he's met Spencer's eyes, he can't look away. He thinks even if he wanted to, even if he tried, Spencer would grab his chin, force it back up, make him look. He looks.

Spencer's eyes are sharp and almost reproachful and ... hurt. Brendon gasps on the next thrust and his eyelashes flutter, but he keeps his eyes open.

Spencer's thrusts get easier as Brendon adjusts, but just when Brendon thinks he might be able to relax a little, Spencer reaches around Brendon's hip and grabs his dick. He squeezes it, nothing else. His hand doesn't move to give Brendon friction, he just squeezes in time with his thrusts, and Brendon watches and cries out, until Spencer says something low in his ear that quiets Brendon, because he wants to hear it again, make sure he didn't imagine it.

Spencer slams in deep and stays there, grinding in and just holding Brendon's cock possessively. Their eyes are locked, and there's no mistaking it when Spencer asks roughly, "Who do you belong to?"

Brendon shudders, hardly believing the question, but he knows the answer. He knows what Spencer wants to hear, he knows what he wants to say, and he knows what's the truth, so he gives it.

"You," he cries out.

Spencer squeezes his cock hard, and Brendon shudders in his arms. Brendon's so open like this, just balanced on one leg. He's only upright because of Spencer's arms and his cock, all the way inside, holding Brendon up. Brendon's thigh has started to shake, the one that's up over the counter. The one he's standing on is trembling. He's still coming off the adrenaline from the show, so he doesn't even feel it, not really. His body is a little bit numb, and even like that Spencer's cock and his hand and fuck. Brendon almost thinks that it's more than he can take, except that he's always going to take what Spencer gives him.

Spencer turns his head a little, until he can breathe Brendon in, but he keeps his eyes fixed on Brendon in the mirror.

"Who?" Spencer repeats, with a slam of his hips, and Brendon sobs, "You, you. You," then, "Please."

Spencer slams forward again and finally, finally moves his hand on Brendon's dick. He squeezes and twists over the head, rubs his palm over it, and the drag of his calluses makes Brendon's leg give out altogether. Brendon's weight is thrown off, sinking him onto Spencer's cock so deep he swears he can almost feel Spencer at the back of his throat.

Spencer growls and fucks forward again, and Brendon doesn't even know how Spencer's holding them both up, because Brendon's leg is dangling above the floor now. He doesn't have time to worry about it, because Spencer jacks him harder and he convulses, cock spurting and spattering the sink, some of it even splattering across the mirror.

Spencer's eyes go even hotter at the sight, and he shoves into Brendon hard, strokes uneven, and Brendon can feel the wet, hot rush of Spencer coming.

"Mine," Spencer groans out as he comes.

"Yours," Brendon says back, voice shredded to a whisper.

--

The problem with Brendon being so sore that he doesn't even want to sit is that he wants to lie down instead. Specifically, he wants to lie down on his stomach. But he's not stupid, and after falling headlong into sleep twice and being woken up twice to Spencer touching his ass and spreading him open for his cock, Brendon figures it's not such a great idea to lie around all passed out and apparently tempting.

It's gotten so that every time Brendon has a minute to himself in the bathroom, he takes lube with him and gets himself ready, because Spencer doesn't always remember. It helps for the times when Spencer just pulls Brendon's pants down and slides inside, even though sometimes he's still wet with lube and come from the time before.

But the problem is when Spencer accosts him before Brendon can make it to the bus bathroom for the first time of the day and drags him into the back lounge while Brendon can hear Ryan and Jon making breakfast. Brendon actually slept five whole hours the night before without waking up -- being woken up, really -- a single time, and he's not ready, hasn't had a chance to get himself ready.

"Spence, I need to. I'm not ready," Brendon protests, but Spencer misunderstands him and reaches for Brendon's cock, pushing his hand inside Brendon's sweats and touching him, stroking him until he gets hard for Spencer.

Brendon shivers and closes his eyes and lets Spencer's hand obliterate his protests, until he feels Spencer tugging down his pants with his other hand and Spencer lifts up Brendon's leg to Spencer's hip. Spencer's hard against Brendon's belly, and Brendon's eyes fly open.

"Wait, wait, I'm not ready," Brendon says again, voice a little high and thready, and he knows he sounds panicked, but Spencer gives him a half-confused little smile and fists Brendon's cock again, like, 'See, yes you are.'

"Lube," Brendon clarifies. "I need lube."

Brendon stuffed a bottle behind a couch cushion a few days ago. Spencer lets him go to crawl a few feet across the floor toward the couch, but Spencer follows behind and rubs himself against Brendon, dick riding right in the cleft of Brendon's ass. Brendon almost wants to cry when he sees that the bottle is empty, and Spencer makes an impatient sound and palms Brendon's ass.

"It's empty," Brendon says. He tries to edge his hips away from Spencer's, put some distance between them, but Spencer clamps his hand on Brendon's hip.

"I can suck you," Brendon offers. "You can't..." he trails off, unable to bring himself to tell Spencer no. "I can suck you," he repeats.

Spencer says, "Want you," which Brendon guesses he's supposed to take to mean that Spencer wants his ass, not his mouth, because Spencer rubs his hips up against Brendon again.

Brendon braces himself, waits for Spencer to start pushing in dry and relentless, but it doesn't happen. Spencer backs away and flips Brendon over onto his back. He stares down at Brendon like he's a puzzle, head tilted a little, forehead wrinkled, eyes considering. Then he nods to himself and pushes Brendon's thighs open, settling between them on his elbows and giving Brendon his mouth.

"Oh," Brendon gasps, and his hand seeks out Spencer's head reflexively, threading his fingers through the hair at Spencer's nape.

Spencer's not teasing, and he's not taking it slow. He sucks Brendon's dick with single-minded determination, tongue curled around the underside. Spencer takes him in all the way, then pulls back to the head, giving it a good suck, then sinking back down. He bobs his head a few more times, until Brendon says, "Spence," warningly, hand tugging lightly at Spencer's hair.

Spencer backs off until just the head of Brendon's cock is in his mouth, and his hand slides wetly over the shaft, twisting and stroking until Brendon cries out and comes in Spencer's mouth.

Spencer pulls back when Brendon's done, mouth carefully closed, then spits into his hand. He drags two fingers from his other hand through Brendon's come, and that's when Brendon gets it. He watches through heavy-lidded eyes while Spencer reaches down between Brendon's thighs and stretches him out with two fingers just barely slick enough. It's raw and dirty and hurts a little, but it's better than going in dry. Spencer fists his cock in his other hand, coating himself with Brendon's come.

He lifts Brendon's legs then, holding them up until Brendon takes the hint and sets his own hands behind his knees, holding himself open. Spencer pushes inside, and it's probably the filthiest Brendon's ever felt, to have Spencer working his way in, Brendon's release slicking the way. It's probably the filthiest he's ever felt, until Spencer comes inside him, too.

--

Brendon can't remember ever yawning so much in his life. He does it during soundcheck, while he's singing, "dreams" stretching in a jaw-cracking yawn, and Jon laughs at him, and Ryan makes a face at him, and Spencer just plays.

Brendon yawns when he shoos them out of the dressing room, too. He tells them they're being too loud, and he needs a little rest, calls them "young whippersnappers" for good measure. Jon and Ryan call him "gramps," but leave him alone. Spencer does not leave. When they're alone, Spencer just licks into Brendon's mouth when he yawns again, and Brendon's tired, so tired, but he opens for Spencer like he did the night before, like he has twice already just today.

They each come twice, and Brendon only fits in 15 minutes of sleep before it's time to get into costume and makeup.

Brendon manages all right through the concert, buzzing high on the energy from the crowd.

He crashes hard when he comes offstage though, leaning heavily on Zack, and then Spencer, after Spencer starts trying to loom over Zack. Spencer's the tallest one in the band, but he's not taller than Zack. Brendon lets Spencer drag him back to the changing room, then over to the bus. Spencer ends up escorting him right to the back lounge, closing the door before Ryan and Jon can get there, and rutting against him on the couch. The soft, soft couch. Brendon closes his eyes, but Spencer just pulls down his pants and moves the pillow from under his head to under his hips.

Brendon may be tired, but he's not dead. His muscles feel almost like liquid, he's so drained, but Spencer's on top of him, hard and moving against him, and Brendon can't help getting hard. Not that he's got enough energy to do anything about it, so he opens his thighs for Spencer, and Spencer gets him ready, and he seems more than okay with the control and with Brendon's compliance.

Brendon has a brief worry about falling asleep, but it's baseless. Spencer doesn't rock into him slow and steady, nothing close to anything that could put him to sleep. Spencer fucks him hard, and he strokes Brendon's cock until he comes over his stomach. Brendon knows he's awake when Spencer comes inside him, but he couldn't swear to being awake by the time Spencer pulls out.

Brendon startles awake briefly when Spencer moves away to grab them a blanket, but by the time Spencer returns to the couch and covers them up, Brendon's fast asleep.

He wakes through the night, disoriented. He's comfortable and... Hard. Really hard, not just wood through the night. Brendon makes a little noise and blinks himself alert, until he realizes that Spencer's totally grinding up against his ass, fisting his cock. Brendon makes a startled noise, which is all the permission Spencer was waiting for, apparently, because he moves his hand away from his cock to hold Brendon open, and pushes inside.

Brendon's tired and confused and still raw off his last orgasm. He doesn't know the time, but it can't have been more than a couple of hours since the last time they fell asleep.

Still, when Spencer's hand moves back to his cock, he comes.

There were times when Brendon was younger that he jacked off enough that he couldn't come anymore. Days when his parents were out and he had the house to himself. But he's never been with anyone who wanted sex so much that Brendon physically couldn't come anymore.

It's a first, when he wakes up again, and Spencer is between his legs, petting his thighs and licking at the crease of his thigh and sucking at his balls, and Brendon's got double vision going on, he's so tired, but he doesn't have to be able to see clearly to know that he's hard again.

When Spencer sucks him into his mouth, Brendon moans, and he hears the edge to it, the way it doesn't sound like pleasure, so he tries to save it, turns it up at the end, because who complains about getting their dick sucked?

Spencer's mouth feels good, sort of, but it also feels like too much, and Brendon's writhing from the overload, not entirely sure that he doesn't want to be pulling his hips away from Spencer's mouth.

Spencer sucks at him mercilessly, and Brendon cries out when the sensation crests, and his dick jerks, almost painful. Spencer pulls back with a small frown, says, "I didn't get to taste you," and Brendon pants heavily and shakes.

Spencer moves his mouth back to Brendon's cock, like, fuck. Like he's just going to try again, like he's going to keep trying until he gets what he wants, and Brendon curls him on himself, jerkily.

"Spence," he says, then trails off. It's maybe the hardest thing he's ever had to convince his body to do, but he actually manages to sit up, instead of just passing out of the couch again. He sits up and he shuffles around until he's crouched over Spencer, and he opens his mouth for Spencer's cock.

Spencer's hard, and while he seems distracted at first, he doesn't have any trouble coming everywhere.

Brendon holds what he can in his mouth, then crawls his way up to Spencer's mouth, sealing their lips together and waiting for Spencer to lick inside. Spencer sucks on his tongue, dips down to lick his chin afterwards, but still says, "It's not the same."

"You've gotta give me a little time," Brendon says, but he's already flopping on the couch and falling asleep before Spencer gets around to answering.

--

Brendon's exhausted the next day.

He drinks three cups of coffee at breakfast, which is usually enough to get his heart racing, but today he can barely feel it. They've got an interview, which Brendon spends looking at his lap, and trying to nod at the appropriate times.

The concert's okay. It's not great. Brendon's voice is raw, just from being tired, but he tries to work it, adding in low growls when he knows he won't be able to hit the high notes.

He sleepwalks through the meet and greet afterwards, and doesn't even realize that it's a hotel night under they're being herded off the bus and towards the building.

Tonight would be a good night to room with Jon. Jon doesn't care if Brendon wants to spend and hour in the bath, and he'll always watch TV quietly if Brendon wants to crash early. Before Brendon can get Jon though, Spencer's grabbed a room key and Brendon's elbow. He somehow manages to drag Brendon and both of their bags out of the elevator and towards the right room.

Brendon doesn't know how it's even possible that Spencer isn't tired. He doesn't know how Spencer can actually be hard again, but he is. The last time they fucked was-- Brendon can't even keep the nights straight anymore. It was in the changing room or in the bus, or both. Brendon's so sore and so tired that he doesn't get hard at first, not even when Spencer finds his prostate and pounds into him. Spencer tugs on his cock, and when that doesn't work, he starts tugging on Brendon's nipples instead.

It hurts, or-- it doesn't hurt, but Brendon can't stop shaking. Like his body doesn't even know what to do with all of the sensation. Spencer touches his nipples and touches his nipples until the skin goes raw and painful, and still Brendon's body gets hard. It takes time, and it's still too much, too much when Spencer starts jerking him off, but it doesn't hurt as bad as Spencer's thumb on his nipple

Spencer comes quickly after Brendon finishes, then leads them both into the shower. He turns up the water hot, and Brendon slumps against the tiles and moans through Spencer's fingers on his scalp while he washes Brendon's hair. They must have had sex in the showers after the concert, because Brendon's hair is still dirty from after the show.

Spencer dries him off, then pushes him down on his knees. Brendon can only manage a half-hearted blowjob; his eyes are heavy and raw and he just wants to sleep. Spencer jerks himself the rest of the way, then pulls back to come all over Brendon's chest, rubbing it in afterwards. After the shower, it's still the cleanest Brendon's felt in days.

Spencer pulls down the bedding and Brendon crawls in. Spencer rubs his thumb over Brendon's cheek, then walks away to put their clothes back in their bags for tomorrow.

Brendon's so tired, but he can't fall asleep. He doesn't know what's wrong, but he can't. He lies on his side and stares at his hand, curled up by his cheek.

When Spencer finally comes to bed, Brendon rolls over quickly, sliding his arm over Spencer's chest, hooking their legs together. Spencer cards his fingers through Brendon's hair, and Brendon falls asleep while Spencer strokes the back of his head.

--

Brendon wakes up face down on the bed, Spencer already inside of his ass.

He struggles briefly, just out of confusion, but Spencer just uses his bucking to get in deeper. As Brendon slowly comes to, he stops moving. He's relaxed from sleep, and still wet and open from when Spencer fucked him before.

Spencer's buried deep, and Brendon's trying to make sense of it, figure out how this is happening, how he could actually wake up to Spencer already pushing into him.

Mostly his mind's too clouded to figure it out, because he's so tired. He doesn't move, and it doesn't seem like Spencer minds, really, because Brendon's pliant and his body's taking Spencer easily. Spencer's thrusting in and grunting, rubbing Brendon's body against the sheets. It's a lot to take in so soon after waking up, but Brendon closes his eyes and thinks he can handle it. It'll be okay, if Spencer just comes soon and doesn't try to make Brendon come, too.

Brendon feels a little freaked out, but it's just a disoriented-sleepy kind of overwhelming. As he wakes up, he starts to tighten, coming into his body again. Spencer notices the difference and starts rubbing a hand up and down Brendon's side, over the skin of his back like he's feeling where the muscles shift. He's still grunting, and Brendon's making noises now, too. It's intense and fucking weird to come into sex in the middle of the action. Brendon wonders how long Spencer was inside him before he woke, if he woke up right after Spencer slid inside or if he slept for a while Spencer fucked him gentle at the beginning.

Spencer's not being gentle now, there's an edge of desperation to his movements. Brendon thinks that might mean that he's been inside for a while. Brendon stretches a little, trying to get comfortable again, and Spencer slips his hand underneath Brendon to grab his cock.

Brendon moans at even the first touch, the first brush of Spencer's fingers before they close around his cock, and his hips buck back a little on instinct, trying to escape the touch. But it pushes him onto Spencer's cock, and Spencer murmurs approvingly, probably thinking Brendon's trying to get more of him, when all Brendon can really think is that it's too much.

Spencer's hand moves on his cock, and Brendon whimpers. He doesn't think he can get hard for this. He doesn't even know how long it's been since the last time, couldn't have been more than a couple of hours. He whimpers again when Spencer's hips change their angle, going in short, and hard, hitting Brendon's prostate over and over, and when Brendon's cock jerks, it feels like a betrayal, his body giving Spencer what he wants.

Brendon gets hard, and he goes right to the intense strain of nearly-there, without any build up. It's sharp and Brendon starts sweating and shaking. He doesn't want to come. He's tired and orgasm seems too big, too intense, like it would be too much, and Brendon's already flying into a million directions. Spencer keeps tugging on his cock though, keeps nailing his prostate. Spencer is focused now, and Brendon doesn't stand a chance when he gets like this. Spencer knows Brendon's body, and he knows how to touch Brendon and how to fuck him, and Brendon feels himself tip right up to the edge, just because that's what Spencer wants. He's not there yet, but his body strains and trembles, working with Spencer, even though Brendon just wants Spencer to finish so that he can go back to sleep.

Spencer's breathing heavily against the nape of Brendon's neck, forehead pressed into his hair, and he keeps making these pleased, rumbling sounds. Brendon focuses on the sounds, focuses on how they're getting shorter and harsher, more guttural, so Spencer must be getting close, must be right on the edge.

Then Spencer gives Brendon's cock a hard squeeze and another tug, tells him, "Come on," and Brendon knows. He knows that Spencer's waiting for him, that he won't come until Brendon does, and Brendon bites his bottom lip hard so that he can't do something stupid like say no or sob.

Spencer keeps jacking Brendon off, hand rough and possessive like he owns Brendon's cock, owns his body, and when Spencer says, "Come on," again, Brendon thinks dazedly that Spencer must, because Brendon's body obeys him.

Brendon comes hard, like Spencer's ripping it out of him. It hurts and it's good and it's too much. Spencer comes, too. He presses his face into the crook of Brendon's neck and moans against his skin and follows Brendon over the edge, and Brendon thinks, fuck. Thank god.

Spencer comes, and he stays inside of Brendon. Brendon is right on the cusp of sleep, again. He's almost asleep, but Spencer stays inside after he comes, and before Brendon can fall back to sleep, Spencer starts moving again. Just little motions at first, but he works up to a rhythm quickly, and he's fucking Brendon again.

There's no holding it back this time. Brendon lets out one incredulous, dry sob and pushes his face into his pillow, trying to muffle the sound. He bites at the pillow and tries to resist mouthing all the words he can't say into it. Saying "no," saying "stop," saying "I can't."

He can. He has to. He will, because Spencer wants it. Spencer's hard inside him still, and Brendon has come, so he should be okay with this. Spencer will come again soon, it has to be soon, and Brendon will sleep, and maybe tomorrow he'll slip something into Spencer's drink, something to make him sleep. Something to make him let Brendon sleep.

Except that Spencer's hand is still right there, and he wraps it around Brendon's cock again and he starts to touch him, and Brendon is so fucking sensitive and raw, he can't. He can't even find words to tell Spencer. When he opens his mouth, all that comes out is a low wail. Spencer just rubs over the head of his cock, just the head, but Brendon feels it everywhere. He's so tired, he's so tired and Spencer is touching him and fucking him, hitting his prostate, fucking him and touching him, and Brendon can't. Spencer twists his hand, and dark sparks around the edges of Brendon's vision. Spencer gives a long tug, grinding into Brendon's prostate, and everything goes black.
*****************************************************************************
Ryan can tell that at first, Jon just thinks it’s a friend thing. Brendon and Ryan are just close. Comfortable with one another. He barely raises an eyebrow when he walks in on Brendon straddling Ryan’s waist on the floor of the tour bus, leaning down and balancing on his forearms so their lips are inches apart. They’re mumbling to each other, too, and Brendon’s hand is halfway up Ryan’s shirt so he kind of doesn’t understand how Jon can just shrug it off and say, “Either of you wanna play Guitar Hero? I’ve been practicing, Brendon, I’ll kick your ass.”

“Kinda busy right now, Jon,” Brendon retorts.

“Doing what?”

Yeah, Ryan really doesn’t understand how Jon can be so oblivious.

“Fuck off, Jon,” Brendon mumbles, kissing at Ryan’s neck and mumbling something in Ryan’s ear about sucking his dick like a dirty little whore.

Ryan hears another set of footsteps climb up onto the bus, and when he tilts his head back to see who it is, he spots Spencer rolling his eyes, one hand on his hip. “Jesus, guys, how many fucking times have I told you to keep it in your bunks?” He sighs. “Oh well, at least you’ve still got all your clothes on this time.”

“That’s what you think,” Brendon says smugly. (“I’m not wearing any underwear,” he whispers in Ryan’s ear, as if Ryan didn’t gather that.)

“Wha…?” Jon starts, but then gets distracted when Spencer steps delicately over the couple on the floor and one of Ryan’s hands shoots up to grope at his crotch.

“Fucking hell, Ryan, not too hard. I kind of need that. Jon, are you coming?” Brendon starts to say something but Spencer continues before he can. “I mean, are you coming into the back lounge to play video games with me.”

Brendon starts to say something again but Ryan covers his mouth with one hand.

“I, um. I kind of don’t want to step over them, now,” Jon says, eyeing Ryan suspiciously.

Ryan laughs. “Don’t worry, Jon,” he says, nodding towards the hand covering Brendon’s mouth. “Both of my hands are occupied right now.”

Brendon moans quietly.

“So I see,” Jon says, still eyeing the pair suspiciously.

“Oh, stop being such a fucking pussy, Jon,” Spencer lisps, then turns on his heel and marches into the back lounge.

Jon steps gingerly over Brendon and Ryan, and Ryan manages to keep his hands to himself.

Well, he doesn’t touch Jon, anyway.

-

“Harder, Ryan, shit,” Brendon whimpers out, wrapping his legs around Ryan’s waist. “Harderharderharder.”

Ryan doesn’t really think he can go much harder, but he slides his arms underneath Brendon’s back and grips his shoulders from behind to get better leverage. This seems to work, because pretty soon Brendon’s gasping, moaning, writhing as Ryan rolls his hips and fucks him hard, deep; so fucking deep.

“UnghGodRyan,” Brendon gets out, never one to shut up for long at all, and his hand fists his cock that much faster. “I’m… fuck, I’m coming!”

I noticed, Ryan thinks as he looks down at the mess all over his stomach, but it’s fucking hot so he doesn’t complain, just speeds up until he’s coming too, face pressed into Brendon’s neck as he takes ragged, hitched breaths.

When Ryan finally becomes aware of his surroundings again, he’s still inside Brendon, who’s busy running his hands through Ryan’s hair and down his back.

“Mmf,” Ryan eventually grunts, kissing Brendon’s jaw a couple of times (he’s always much more outwardly affectionate post-sex) before slowly pulling out and rolling halfway off Brendon, so he’s pressed between a warm body and the wall of his bunk.

“Yeah, mmf, I agree,” Brendon murmurs, a little smile on his face as he rolls onto his side to face Ryan. He pauses a moment, then kisses the corner of Ryan’s mouth and says, “Pete’s gonna be here tomorrow.”

Ryan doesn’t miss Brendon’s avoidance of the word ‘coming’, but he doesn’t mention it. “I know.”

Brendon curls closer, arms tightening possessively. “Last time he was here he tried to get you to-”

“I know, Brendon.” A little more testy this time.

Another pause, and then Brendon’s lips are pressing gently against his for a second. “I love you, Ryan.”

A smile creeps its way onto Ryan’s lips and he kisses Brendon again. “Yeah, yeah, I love you too, even if you are a jealous douchebag.”

“I’m not jealous,” Brendon insists, and Ryan laughs.

-

Pete Wentz’s arrival is never a quiet one.

It doesn’t even matter if they’re in the middle of soundcheck like they are this time, making as much horrible noise as they possibly can, at some point Pete will march in (be ushered in by two security guards, more like) and over all the commotion he will make himself heard.

“I’m heeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeere!”

And every time, without fail, Pete always looks terribly disappointed when the four men don’t jump off of the stage, rush down and leap into his arms or something. So instead, he dashes up to the stage, clambers up (with some help from the aforementioned security guards) and throws his arms around the nearest band member.

Coincidentally, this is always Ryan. And just when Ryan thinks he’s getting off easy this time, Pete’s hands slide down his back and grope his ass.

Ryan resists the urge to vomit in his mouth.

After what seems like a long time (and that’s because it is a long time) Pete releases him and moves on to the others, but their hugs don’t last nearly as long and there’s no ass-gropage there, for some, erm, strange reason. Brendon is the last, and he shoots Ryan a look over Pete’s shoulder. A look that says something like, If he didn’t pretty much own us, I would shank him right here and now.

Ryan likes Pete. Really, he does. But he would still pay to see Brendon and Pete get in a brawl. Sell popcorn, pull up a couple of chairs, you know. Fun for all ages.

That is, he supposes, an actual possibility if Pete keeps trying to get in his pants.

“So, Ryan,” Pete says with a toothy grin, hooking both of his thumbs into his front belt loops so his index fingers point at his crotch (Ryan is careful to keep his gaze up), “I’ve got some lyrics I want you to look at for me. I was thinking about using them on the new record, but I could use a second opinion.”

“Um, sure,” Ryan agrees hesitantly, since he’s pretty much done here anyway. He starts to follow Pete offstage, but Brendon catches his wrist as he passes.

“Ryan,” he whines quietly, doing his best impression of a puppy dog. “I was hoping we could, y’know, spend some alone time after this.”

With a raised eyebrow, Ryan shrugs. “Jesus, Brendon, you’re such a fucking girl,” he mutters back, but there’s a little smile on his face. “I’ve fucked you twice already today. You can wait until tonight. Come on. You can entertain yourself until then. Tell everyone to look at your crack again or something.”

Brendon sighs. “They don’t laugh at that anymore.”

(They never laughed at that in the first place, Ryan thinks.)

“Sure they do. I still think it’s funny.” Ryan presses a kiss to Brendon’s temple, then pulls away to follow Pete.

“Is something going on between Ryan and Brendon?” Ryan hears Jon ask Spencer in a hushed voice as he walks past.

“Oh my God. Brendon, we hired an idiot.”

-

“Oh, I’ve totally got this funny story to tell you guys!” Pete exclaims as the five of them relax on the bus.

Brendon is tucked under Ryan’s arm (Brendon had squeezed in between Pete and Ryan, grabbed one of Ryan’s arms and pulled it around his shoulders), Spencer’s settled with a magazine at their fold-out dining room table - if you can call it that - and Jon is busy making himself a sandwich. The fact that they’re all so chilled out and comfortable makes Ryan a little afraid of the effect one of Pete’s little stories might have.

“Okay, so like, we’re in the studio, right? And Patrick walks into the room and we’re like, ‘dude, you’ve been off jerking off, haven’t you?’ and he’s like, ‘no way, man, I’ve still got the boner, see?’”

Ryan starts to tune out Pete for a bit and Jon stuffs his sandwich into his mouth.

“So then I went down on him, and-”

Jon promptly starts to choke, and Spencer leaps to his feet and hurries over to pat Jon’s back delicately, as if it’s going to make any difference.

“Oh, Jon, how many times have I told you not to eat so fast?” Pete gushes, limp-wristing in Jon’s direction.

With a glare at Pete, Jon coughs once more and then spits something out into the sink.

“Anyway,” Pete continues as Spencer rubs Jon’s back soothingly, “as I was saying, we’re sitting there and Joe is like, ‘what the fuck, Pete, we said no band orgies for a week’. We were trying to hold off. You know, so we got all excited and pumped for it? Why am I babbling about this, you guys must do it all the time.”

Ryan shifts uncomfortably in his seat and he’s pretty sure that he’s definitely not the only one avoiding the gaze of every other band member. Then suddenly Pete is laughing uproariously, Spencer is giggling kind of nervously and Ryan’s pretty sure he just missed the punch line because wow, he was too busy thinking about band orgies.

Not that they’ve ever had one. But he’s not going to deny that it’d be hot.

“And then there was this one time, oh man, this one time William came to hang out with us on tour and we made him prove he didn’t have a vagina by fucking every single one of us, it was a good time. I’m sure Ryan knows all about that, you’ve slept with him, haven’t you Ryan?”

Brendon glares at Ryan accusingly.

“What? No!” Ryan cries, shooting Pete an irritated look.

“Really?” Pete shrugs. “Well, I just kind of assumed. I mean, I thought at the very least you two had, if you hadn’t involved him in your own little band orgies. I want to know when I’m invited, by the way, so-”

“We don’t have any ‘little band orgies’,” Jon cuts him off, obviously annoyed. “We’re straight. Well, Spencer and I are, anyway.”

Spencer rolls his eyes and examines his nails. “I’ll say it again, we hired an idiot.”

“Oh. Oh.” Pete shakes his head. “Um. Whatever you say, Jon. But seriously. You guys don’t sleep together?”

“Not except for Brendon and Ryan,” Jon says.

“Because we love each other,” Brendon adds emphatically, narrowing his eyes at Pete as if he’s going to jump on Ryan at any moment.

“Oh. Wow.” Suddenly the room is quiet as Pete looks around at every one of them, and for some reason as Ryan looks around the room he starts undressing them all with his eyes.

Well, except Pete.

Not like he’d need to be imaginative for that, anyway.

“You guys should like, try it,” Pete says after a moment’s silence. “It’s awesome. You’d never want to go back. And I mean. Oh man, if Jon really has a virgin ass? That’d be like. Awesome.”

More dead silence. Jon’s mouth is set slightly open in an expression of complete and utter horror, Spencer’s cheeks are flushed bright red (and he’s stopped touching Jon altogether, too, Ryan notices), and Brendon is still glaring at Pete and clinging tightly to Ryan’s waist.

“You have to admit it’d be hot,” Pete says slowly, as if he’s testing to see how far he can go. “I could, um. Coach you all, if you wanted.”

It’s about this point that Jon finds his voice. “Fuck this. Fuck you,” he says, pointing an index finger angrily at Pete. “Spencer and I are not gay.”

Then he storms out of the room, presumably to go and mope in his bunk, and Spencer sighs.

“Idiot.”

That night when he’s in bed with Brendon, Ryan imagines Jon in behind him and Spencer fucking Brendon’s mouth, and he comes harder and more suddenly than he has in a very long time.

-

Things are quiet for the next few days. Tense and awkward. It’s okay, Ryan tries to convince himself over and over, Pete’s just thrown off our rhythm a little bit. It’ll get better once he leaves.

Only Pete leaves, and things are still weird. Jon refuses to look anyone in the eye. Spencer is far less touchy-feely with, well, everyone, and Brendon is clingier than ever. (When Ryan asked about this and insisted that Brendon stop following him the fuck around for five seconds, Brendon had pouted and said “but you’re the only one who talks to me now” and that’d been far too pathetic for Ryan to be annoyed anymore.)

The truth is that the others are hardly talking to anyone at all, except the stuff that’s actually necessary like “your guitar sounds a little out of tune”, “can I get past here?” and “if you don’t get off the fucking phone I’m gonna kill you, it’s three in the fucking morning”. And it worries Ryan because he doesn’t know why.

Or rather, he knows why, and he kind of wishes he didn’t.

Then he starts to notice little things. Little things like the way Jon peers over his magazine at Brendon’s ass when Brendon bends over to pick up the Playstation controller. And the way he quickly lifts his magazine again when he notices Ryan eyeing him. And then there’s the time Ryan and Brendon are fooling around in Ryan’s bunk, and when they’re done Ryan can hear Spencer breathing heavy above them, the hitch in his breath, the long sigh. (That incident affects Ryan so much that he starts to grind against a half-asleep Brendon and demands to be jerked off. Brendon grumbles about it at first but can never really turn Ryan down.)

And then there’s the time that Jon and Brendon are both off doing their own thing and Ryan has to sit alone on the bus with Spencer (which never would have bothered him before now, and it’s strange). Spencer looks up from the TV suddenly and says very quickly, “Hey Ryan, do you ever think about whatPetesaid?”

Ryan pauses a moment, thinks that this is probably the first thing Spencer’s said to him all day and yet he kind of wishes they’d stayed quiet. “What do you mean, what Pete said?” he asks cautiously.

Spencer stares at Ryan a moment longer, then shakes his head. “You know what? Never mind. I mean, the whole idea is just ridiculous, isn’t it? Jon’s straight and you and Brendon are practically married and the whole idea is stupid. Fuck Pete, man. Fuck him.”

“God, please don’t fuck Pete, who knows what you’ll catch,” Brendon says nastily as he bursts into the room at what is obviously the wrong moment, and he settles himself in Ryan’s lap. “Now what’d you say before that? Who’s getting married?”

“No one. Never mind, Brendon, it wasn’t important anyway,” Spencer snaps, folding his arms across his chest as he turns back to the TV.

“Is it Angelina and Brad?” Brendon asks Ryan. “Wait, did they get married already? I can’t keep up. Katie and Tom did, right?”

Smirking, Ryan stares at Brendon for a moment and shakes his head. “You are a very, very gay man.”

“Well, at least Ryan’s gaydar is better than Jon’s,” Spencer mutters.

-

That night Brendon and Ryan are lying curled together, Brendon’s fingers playing idly with Ryan’s hair, when they both whisper at the same time.

“I think we should-”

“I’m so sick of-”

Pause. Laughter. Brendon clears his throat and tries again. “So I think we need to um. Sort this little band drama out, once and for all.”

“Right, me too,” Ryan says with a little, relieved laugh. “Definitely. I’m so, so sick of everyone being all stand-offish. So… how, exactly, do you suppose we’re going to get everyone to relax again?”

“I think…” Brendon trails off for a second. “I think we need to have sex.”

Ryan blinks. “Brendon, we just did, and I don’t see how doing it again is going to-”

“No, I mean, I think we should all have sex,” Brendon clarifies. “As in, you, me, Spencer and Jon. Because he was totally checking out my ass yesterday. Anyway. I think we kind of need to get it… over and done with, you know? And then all this tension can be over with and we can all go back to normal again.”

“Or we could screw up everything.”

“Like it isn’t screwed up enough now?”

Ryan sighs, then nods. “Yeah, okay, point taken. But still. How the hell are we supposed to convince them that it’s a good idea to have group sex with us? Especially when the recommendation comes via Pete. I mean, last time he told us we’d love something he took us to that Hawthorne Heights concert.”

Brendon cringes. “Okay, yeah. Well, Spencer won’t be hard, right? I mean, he’s pretty much the gayest guy alive and I’m ninety-nine percent sure he hasn’t gotten any in like, two months.”

“Plus he jerks off when we have sex.”

“Yeah, there’s that, too.”

“So, how to seduce Jon,” Ryan ponders aloud. “You know, I think this is going to have to involve some very crafty ass work from you, Brendon.”

A smug smirk instantly develops on Brendon’s lips. “No one can resist the applebottom.”

Ryan rolls his eyes. “I wish you’d stop calling it that.”

-

“You should do it,” Brendon whispers, planting his hands on his hips. He and Ryan are standing in the doorway to the back lounge, with Spencer sitting on the couch inside. “You’ve been his best friend since forever, how can he say no to you?”

“Exactly. We’ve been best friends since forever, he’ll freak out and think it’s weird if I try and seduce him,” Ryan argues, voice hushed but obviously annoyed. “Besides, you said yourself that no one can resist your ass.”

“Look, by ‘no one can’, I meant ‘Jon can’t’. Stop nitpicking.”

Ryan sighs, thinking for a moment. “Well, do you think he’s a top or a bottom? Or a switch, maybe?”

“Bottom.”

Ryan scoffs. “You’re just saying that so I’ll do it.”

“No, I’m saying that because there was that time he told us he got fucked by the guy from that video store.”

“Brendon, that guy gave him a fine, not a dick up his ass.”

“Nitpicking!”

“What are you guys fighting about?” Spencer asks from his position on the couch, still staring at the TV as he speaks. “You know whispering is rude, right? I think it’s probably even more rude when all I can hear is the occasional ‘fuck’, ‘dick’ and ‘ass’.”

Ryan sighs and reaches up to flick Brendon in the forehead before walking into the room, making a beeline for Spencer and flopping down in his lap.

“Hi, Ryan.” Spencer blinks at him.

Shoving Spencer’s shirt up a little bit, Ryan flashes a weak smile. “Hi.”

Just as Ryan gets Spencer’s shirt up to his armpits, Ryan feels Brendon behind him, kneeling down to rub at Ryan’s hips.

“Um. What exactly are you guys doing?” Spencer asks, and Ryan gets a little annoyed when Spencer doesn’t lift his arms up and let him pull his shirt off.

“We’re initiating sex with you, what does it look like?” Ryan replies calmly, wriggling around a little bit in Spencer’s lap.

“Oh. Oh, well in that case.” Spencer reaches down to pull his shirt off himself, then leans in to kiss Ryan, only to find himself being pushed back by a hand that’s suddenly on his jaw.

“No kissing him,” Brendon damn near growls. “You can touch him anywhere and do anything but you don’t kiss him.”

Spencer looks to Ryan for confirmation, and Ryan just nods. “There have gotta be rules, Spence. Brendon’s a jealous fucker so you can’t kiss me. Also, he doesn’t top. Ever. But even if you don’t feel like fucking his ass it’s fun to make him beg.”

A surprised look on his face, Spencer’s gaze shifts from Ryan’s face to Brendon’s. “Wow, I always kinda assumed that Brendon was the one doing the fucking. At least most of the time.”

Ryan lifts his arms so Brendon can slide his t-shirt over his head. “I may look like a girl sometimes, but I’m not a needy, clingy, possessive little slut like Brendon.”

Spencer expects Brendon to be at least mildly offended by this statement, but apparently he’s too preoccupied undoing Ryan’s pants to even notice.

“So, you’re in?” Ryan asks as Brendon slides a hand into his boxers.

“Yeah,” Spencer says, without hesitation. “Yeah, I’m fucking in.”

-

Ryan is on the couch, jerking himself off as he watches his boyfriend, his Brendon on his knees sucking Spencer off. It’s so fucking hot and Ryan is so fucking intent on watching this right here in front of him (he likes it when Spencer bucks and Brendon whines like he needs it, especially) that he doesn’t hear Spencer the first time he speaks.

“Ryan?”

“Wha…?” Ryan looks up at Spencer, whose normally bright blue eyes are dark with lust.

“Can I…” Ryan sees Brendon swallow and Spencer hisses, trailing off for a moment before starting a again. “Can I… fuck him?”

It takes one glance at Brendon’s face to tell exactly how much he wants it, so Ryan’s lips curve into a smirk and he nods. “Sure you can. Brendon, c’mere.” He beckons him over. “You can suck me off while Spencer fucks you, yeah? I know how good you are at multitasking.”

Brendon rolls his eyes, but shuffles over to Ryan on his knees anyway, wiggling his ass in Spencer’s direction. It’s so deliberate that Ryan can’t help but laugh. Seems to have worked, though, because Spencer can’t stop eyeing Brendon’s ass, even as he kneels down behind him and grins at Ryan.

Ryan grins back.

“Come on, baby,” Ryan says, cupping Brendon’s chin and pulling his head forward. Apparently Brendon gets the idea, because he wraps his lips delicately around the head of Ryan’s cock and starts to suck slowly as Spencer runs his hands down Brendon’s back.

“There’s lube in Brendon’s pants,” Ryan says as his eyes slip shut for a few moments, answering Spencer’s question before he can even open his mouth. Brendon just swirls his tongue around and takes Ryan in further, making his breath hitch a bit. “There… fuck. There always is. He doesn’t need much prep, either. Likes a little pain.” By the time he finishes speaking his voice is lower, huskier, and Brendon’s building up a rhythm, sucking hard, going down fast and pulling up slow.

“He’s good at that, isn’t he?” Spencer breathes, apparently transfixed watching Brendon’s head bob in Ryan’s lap.

Ryan tilts his head back against the couch. “Yeah. Yeah he fucking is.”

Brendon makes a muffled sound in the back of his throat, and Ryan knows that it means something along the lines of ‘damn right’.

Eventually Spencer pulls back, groping around blindly for Brendon’s pants for a moment before reluctantly turning his gaze to look around the room. He manages to grab onto them and pull a little bottle out of one of the pockets before moving back into place behind Brendon.

“So…” Spencer leans down so his mouth is pressed against Brendon’s shoulder, and Ryan can see him fumbling with the lube in his hands but not much else from this angle. “Does he like it hard? Rough?” Spencer bites down on Brendon’s shoulderblade and Ryan moans himself. He knows that question isn’t really directed at him, though, so he doesn’t respond. “He does, doesn’t he? Begs for you to fuck him so hard it hurts, I’m sure.”

Brendon physically shivers and presses himself back into Spencer and that, right there, is all the answer he could need. With a grin, Spencer pulls back, a little smirk on his face as he slips a hand in between himself and Brendon’s ass. And Ryan watches, practically feels it as Spencer pushes a finger inside Brendon, making him moan and hum around Ryan’s cock.

“Fuck,” Ryan whispers, and he thinks that’s pretty much what’s on Brendon’s mind right now, too.

Spencer doesn’t waste any time in pushing in another finger, and Ryan for a second is surprised at how gentle he’s being. Then Spencer twists his wrist around fast enough to make Brendon buck back against him, and Ryan thinks, That’s more like it, and then seconds later, That’s so fucking hot.

After a moment, Brendon pulls back and off of Ryan, and Ryan can’t take his eyes off of the swollen, red, wet lips, even when Brendon sucks one into his mouth and bites down. “Fuck, Spencer,” he eventually gets out. “Fuck me already. Please. Fucking need it.”

Ryan lifts his gaze to meet with Spencer’s and smirks, a gesture that Spencer returns. “Told you he’d beg.”

“I believed you,” Spencer replies, pulling his fingers out and lining himself up. “What a little slut.” As if to prove Spencer’s point, Brendon tries to push back against him and force his cock inside. Spencer laughs and shifts back a little. “Get back to sucking Ryan’s cock, and maybe I’ll fuck you.”

Ryan threads his fingers into Brendon’s hair, guiding him, and apparently he doesn’t need to be told twice because he takes Ryan’s cock in his mouth, deep right from the start, and sucks hard enough to force a strangled kind of moan from the back of Ryan’s throat. “Fuck, Brendon,” Ryan breathes as Spencer lines himself up again.

Then Spencer grips onto Brendon’s hips and pushes and Brendon’s eyes shoot open as he surges forward, looking straight up at Ryan, and that is the fucking hottest thing Ryan has seen in his entire fucking life. Not to mention the way Brendon whimpers around him, pushes back into Spencer and then forward onto Ryan’s cock, trying to start a rhythm of his own and Ryan thinks he’s always been like this; always needed it now, now, now and it’s never been as sexy as it is this moment with Brendon stuck between them.

Spencer’s hands steady Brendon’s hips, stopping him from moving, and the whine of protest from the back of Brendon’s throat shoots straight down Ryan’s cock and makes him buck up a little, unable to stop himself. Brendon doesn’t seem to mind, though, just takes it. He takes it all like it’s nothing, eyes still trained on Ryan’s face, even as Spencer pulls out of him slowly and thrusts back in.

“Fuck,” Spencer whispers out as his hips start up a slow rhythm, rolling into Brendon and all the way out again. Ryan can see it all out of the corner of his eye and he’s torn between looking at that and keeping his eyes locked on the pair staring back up from his lap. “Fuck, he’s so fucking tight. And he just takes it. Doesn’t even complain. Shit.”

One of Spencer’s arms wraps around Brendon’s waist so he can push himself in deeper, and Brendon lets out a little cry that’s muffled by his mouthful of cock. Ryan smirks.

“He likes that,” he murmurs, voice low and throaty. His hand fists tighter in Brendon’s hair and he pulls a little, just enough to make it hurt. “He wants it harder, don’t you, baby?”

Brendon kind of nods and makes a little noise, and Spencer obviously takes that as a resounding yes because he pulls out again, really slow this time, and then thrusts in so hard that Brendon lurches forward into Ryan’s stomach. The next thrust is just as deep and hard, and Brendon’s eyes finally slide shut as he moans loudly and God, Ryan has to resist the urge to come right there.

When Ryan lifts his gaze, Spencer’s eyes are burning into his instead and Ryan swallows, watching fingernails dig into hips as Spencer speeds up. His head is full of the sounds of skin on skin and heavy breathing and not much else.

After a few seconds, Brendon pulls off of Ryan’s cock with a whine. “Fuck, Spencer, jerk me off, please,” he begs, and Spencer grins as he reaches around lower.

Ryan pushes Brendon’s head back down right away, because he is so fucking close and he feels like if Brendon stops now he might cry or something. He thinks Brendon might be feeling the same way about Spencer right now, given the way he’s moaning with a hand on him. And Ryan can only see Spencer’s arm moving from this angle and not much else, but he can see it in his head, Spencer’s hand stroking and squeezing and his cock pounding into him. That’s all it takes.

“Fuck, Brendon, coming,” Ryan mutters, all high-pitched and he sounds like a douche but he doesn’t care because Brendon is pulling off of him slightly, swirling his tongue around and then Ryan’s gone. All the thoughts disappear from his head and he just feels Brendon on him and the sensations filling his entire body as he releases down Brendon’s throat. The hand gripping his hair tightens briefly, then loosens altogether and all Ryan’s aware of is the noises.

“F-fuck,” is the first thing Ryan hears when he starts to come around, and then he’s vaguely aware that it’s Brendon’s voice and the words are being spoken into his thigh. He feels like his whole body is numb but somehow he can still feel Brendon’s hot breath on him, and when he looks up at Spencer he can practically feel Spencer’s breath on his shoulderblade.

Then Brendon’s coming, too, and Ryan can’t see it but he can tell by the way he trembles, the little grunts and moans and how Brendon’s teeth sink into Ryan’s skin to muffle them. When Ryan looks up and sees the slack-jawed expression on Spencer’s face, he briefly remembers what it felt like the first time he saw Brendon come undone like that and the way he felt underneath him.

“Oh my God, Ryan, he’s-” Spencer apparently can’t finish that sentence and he doesn’t really need to because Ryan knows. Pulling back, Spencer grips onto Brendon’s hips again, thrusts in quick and hard a few more times and then his head tips back, and Ryan is in awe, just total awe as he watches his best friend of so many years orgasm for the first time.

What seems like several minutes of deep breathing later, Brendon crawls up onto the couch with Ryan and curls up into his side, and Spencer stays kneeled on the floor for a moment until Ryan beckons him up, too. “You can take the other side,” he murmurs with a little smile, and Spencer flops onto the couch obediently.

“That’s what he said,” Brendon pipes up, nuzzling into Ryan’s chest, and Ryan can’t help but laugh. Then he reaches back, grabbing at a blanket draped across the back of the couch and pulling it over the three of them.

“So,” he says after a moment. “Can we stop being all weird around each other now, please?”

He looks over at Spencer and knows Brendon is looking too.

“What?” Spencer looks completely dumbfounded for a second, then realization dawns. “Oh. You mean the major sexual tension that’s been hanging around since Pete’s visit. Yeah, I think I can probably let that go now, after fucking Brendon’s ass.” He considers a moment. “But what about Jon?”

“That’s an excellent question,” Brendon says, apparently deciding to stretch out across both of their laps, and Ryan rearranges the blankets to keep them all covered. “We were kind of taking it one step at a time, you know? Get Spencer first. Then Jon. And hey, we could really use your input, because we have no ideas left after your seduction.”

“Oh, because that was a work of genius.”

“Shut up.”

“Well,” Spencer muses, “he does like your ass a lot.”

Brendon smirks. “I know. No one can resi-”

Ryan covers Brendon’s mouth. “What he means is, we thought of that already but we’re not sure we can get a ‘straight’ man to sleep with us because of Brendon’s ass alone.”

Brendon pushes Ryan’s hand away angrily. “Hey! We so can!”

Then all three of them fall silent when they hear the sound of the bus door hissing open, but none of them make a move to get out of their incriminating positions. In fact, Spencer starts to play with Brendon’s hair idly and doesn’t even look up when Jon walks into the room.

“Oh my God, guys, you wouldn’t even believe what I just-”

Then there’s a long silence as Ryan watches Jon look from Spencer, slowly to Ryan, then to Brendon, who has his eyes closed and his lips slightly parted.

“Well? Aren’t you going to finish your story?” Spencer asks with a raised eyebrow, and Jon sputters.

“W-what? Spencer!” He points a finger accusingly. “I thought you were straight!”

Spencer looks at Ryan. “More stupid than Brent, you think?”

Ryan nods gravely. “Quite possibly.”

“Well, I wouldn’t go that far,” Brendon chimes in. “Brent didn’t realize Ryan and I were fucking for almost a year.”

“Still. Idiot,” Spencer says with a shrug of his shoulders.

“I’m still here, you know,” Jon mutters angrily. “God, I can’t believe I’m the only straight one in this fucking band.”

Spencer gives Jon a sympathetic look. “Oh, honey. It’s so cute that you still believe that.”

“I am straight!”

“Jon.” Ryan sounds so serious that Jon actually looks at him and listens closer. He takes a deep breath. “Look. We can take care of that boner for you, if you like.”

Jon immediately looks down at himself, gasps, and covers his crotch with both hands. “Fuck you!” he cries, then dashes out of the room, albeit a little awkwardly.

“You can if you want!” Brendon calls out helpfully after him, then rolls off of the couch cackling at his own joke, tugging the blanket onto the floor with him.

-

“I can do it alone,” Brendon says stubbornly, peering around the doorway to the back lounge and hiding again when Jon looks up from the couch and raises an eyebrow at him. “Look. We’ve got to fix this band and that means I have to use the amazing powers of my ass to get Jon into bed with us so everything can go back to normal.”

“That is the most fucked up logic I’ve ever heard,” Spencer mutters, leaning against one of the bunks.

Ryan walks up behind Brendon, wraps arms around his waist and pulls him in so they’re standing chest to back. “You’re not going to push him, got it?” he murmurs, and Brendon nods. “I mean it, babe. He says no twice, you leave him alone.”

“Rape counselors the world over would be horrified to hear you say that, you know,” Spencer says, tone bored. “No means no the first time, and all that.”

Brendon scoffs. “No never means no the first time. The first time it means, ‘you need to work that ass a little harder’. The second time it means, ‘no, for real, I’m straight’. And you know. This is Jon. There’s not gonna be a second time because he isn’t.”

Ryan laughs and shakes his head. “You know, actually, I think today we’re gonna say the second time means, ‘try again another day’.”

“There won’t be a second time.”

Spencer sighs. “Whatever you say, Brendon.”

With a roll of his eyes, Ryan slides his hands down to grab onto the bottom of Brendon’s shirt, then pulls it up over Brendon’s head and swats at his ass. “Off you go, boy. And don’t sweat it if you don’t succeed.”

Brendon just shoots Ryan a glare and pulls away.

“Hi, Jon,” he says brightly as he strolls into the room, swaying his hips so obviously that Ryan almost snorts with laughter, but given that he and Spencer are peering around the doorframe right now a la Backstabber he thinks it might not be the best idea to burst into a fit of giggles. Not laughing is kind of hard when he sees the way Jon instantly tenses up upon Brendon’s entry. Like he’s going to turn around and knife him or something. “Have you seen my glasses? I’ve been thinking I should try and look all intellectual for these interviews we’ve got this afternoon. You think glasses will make people take me more seriously? Because I asked Ryan and he totally told me that he thought they would.” (In actuality, Ryan said nothing of the sort but he enjoys Brendon’s little ramble anyway; it’s kind of endearing, really. Cute. He silently hopes that Jon sees things that way, too, instead of just thinking Brendon’s annoying. Oh, who is he kidding, everyone thinks Brendon’s annoying.)

Jon looks up from the TV and shakes his head. “No, sorry Brendon. Haven’t seen them.” He doesn’t answer Brendon’s other question and Ryan thinks, Yup. Annoying.

“Hmm. Well, that sucks,” Brendon says with a frown, and Ryan hopes he never decides to star in any movies or anything because that might destroy his credibility altogether. “I could’ve sworn I left them in here somewhere.”

Dropping to his knees, Brendon starts to ‘search’ under the couch, and from what Ryan can gather this means that he’s sticking his head practically underneath with his ass in the air. It looks ridiculous, and Ryan sees Spencer clamp a hand over his mouth out of the corner of his eye.

“Oh God,” Spencer whispers, “I am so glad you didn’t send him to seduce me.”

Ryan is glad for that too, actually, but says nothing.

“Not here,” Brendon chirps, seemingly unaware of the fact that Jon is now ignoring him and focusing on the TV. Well, almost ignoring him. Brendon is a hard person to ignore. And Brendon’s ass in those jeans, Ryan notes as a familiar urge tugs at his stomach, is especially hard to ignore.

Standing up again, Brendon looks around, then walks over to the TV, bending over to peer behind it. And that does it, because Jon is totally fixated on Brendon’s ass all of a sudden, and Ryan’s pretty sure that both he and Spencer are, too. Fuck.

“Not here either. Hmph.” Brendon stands up straight, hands on his hips, then stretches out. Arches his back and lifts up his arms and Ryan can see the muscles flexing under the skin and oh God.

“Maybe you could have sent him after all,” Spencer breathes, hot in Ryan’s ear, and he just nods because he definitely understands where Spencer’s coming from right now.

“Maybe they’re stuffed in the back of the couch,” Brendon mutters, walking over to start checking under cushions. And Jon’s eyes, they don’t leave Brendon at all. He’s not even trying to hide the fact that he’s checking him out now, and Ryan thinks maybe, just maybe Brendon might actually be able to pull this off.

With a sigh, Brendon leans across Jon’s lap, pretending to check under the cushions on the other side of Jon except that even if he were doing that under normal circumstances, his ass wouldn’t be sticking up slightly and just fucking begging for a spanking in that position. Fuck, Ryan thinks, How can Jon even resist?

Ryan realizes with a bit of a start that Spencer is getting just as turned on as he is, because an arm wraps around his waist and yeah, there’s definitely something pressing into his ass.

“We’re still gonna fuck if he doesn’t get Jon, right?” Spencer whispers against Ryan’s ear, and then a hand slides down to grope at Ryan through his jeans.

“Fuck yes, we are,” Ryan hisses back, pressing himself into Spencer’s hand as he watches Brendon move back to kneel again, but not before grazing his hands over Jon’s lap.

“Shit, I guess they really aren’t here,” Brendon says with a little smile, and Jon turns to look at him, apparently speechless. Then, without warning, Brendon leans in and kisses Jon, soft and slow, and Ryan feels a pang of annoyance because he isn’t ‘allowed’ to kiss other people but Brendon is. Any and all irritation kind of disappears, though, when Spencer’s hand presses down on him more insistently and Jon’s hand moves up to cup Brendon’s face and fuck. He’s kissing Brendon back and it’s hot.

Brendon doesn’t waste any time (never was one to waste any time, needy little slut), just crawls into Jon’s lap, straddling him this time and kissing him harder, deeper, and Jon responds by moaning in his throat.

Then, suddenly, Jon moves a hand to Brendon’s shoulder and pushes him back, nearly shoving him back onto the floor. Ryan’s heart sinks.

“What are you doing?” Jon breathes, eyes wild and… yeah, definitely scared.

“Well, I was kind of planning on you fucking me,” Brendon says as he regains his balance and composure, planting both hands on either side of Jon’s head.

“What?” Jon’s voice is shrill and Ryan’s starting to worry that this isn’t working after all, that they’re just making matters worse, but then Spencer’s undoing his pants and he’s tilting his head back on Spencer’s shoulder and he tries not to think too much. “But Ryan-”

“Ryan wants to watch. Maybe he’ll fuck Spencer at the same time, I don’t know.”

“Brendon, I’m.” Jon swallows. “No. I’m straight.”

One, Ryan counts silently, hoping he can keep his brain with him for long enough to hear the second one if he needs to.

“Jon is an idiot,” Spencer whispers, as if that hadn’t been established already.

“Come on, Jon,” Brendon says with a smug little smile, one hand trailing down Jon’s chest and stomach slowly. “I saw you looking at me. You fucking kissed me. I know,” he wriggles in Jon’s lap, “you wanna fuck my ass. You can fuck me as hard as you like, Jon; I’ll take it. Or maybe you want me to suck your cock. I’m good at that. Just ask Ryan. Or Spencer.”

Jon just stares for a moment, and this time when he pushes Brendon away it’s more forceful. “Brendon, get the fuck off me, God dammit.”

Two, Ryan thinks, pulling reluctantly away from Spencer’s touch and reaching into his pocket to pull out Brendon’s glasses. “Brendon?” he calls out softly, stepping into the doorway, and he clears his throat because apparently his voice is a little husky right now. “I, um. Found your glasses.”

That’s the signal, of course, and Brendon sighs and crawls out of Jon’s lap. “You don’t know what you’re missing out on.”

“You really don’t,” Ryan agrees, giving Jon a pointed look.

“I can vouch for that,” Spencer adds loudly from behind Ryan.

Ryan grabs onto Brendon’s waist, pulls him close and kisses him, presses his obvious erection into Brendon’s leg because he’s not going to bother hiding it in front of Jon now. “You are so fucking hot,” he growls into Brendon’s ear, and Brendon looks at Jon as if to say, You hear that?

“So we’re gonna go fuck Brendon in the front right about now,” Spencer pipes up, grabbing the belt loops on the back of Ryan’s jeans. “So if you want to join us any time, you’d be more than welcome. Otherwise, the bathroom’s that way.” He inclines his head in the direction of the bathroom, already tugging Ryan backwards, who drags Brendon along with them.

Ryan grins, turning to follow. “You can go first,” he tells Spencer as Brendon’s hand slips into his. “But I get to come in his ass.”

-

Jon is, if anything, even more highly strung in the days following Brendon’s seduction attempt, which Ryan didn’t even think was possible. He’s avoiding them like the plague, especially when Brendon chooses to hang around in nothing but his boxers (which is suddenly all the time, actually, and even though Brendon insists that he is not still trying to get Jon to notice, Ryan knows he totally is).

More than anything, Brendon confides in Ryan late one night, he just wants to fix this whole mess. Well, more than anything except Ryan’s mouth on his dick anyway. And he’s convinced, of course, that everything would be fine if Jon would just give in and fuck his ass already. Ryan agrees, because hey, it worked for Spencer, but something tells him that seducing Jon Walker is going to take a little more than what they’ve been trying.

“You know he jerks off over us fucking when we’re not looking, just like Spencer did. I mean, you can’t hear him from here but I’m sure he does it. Ass. If he’s going to jerk off over us he could at least let us make it worth his while,” Brendon rambles, and Ryan tries to remember that it’s endearing and not annoying. “I mean, how selfish is that, really? We’re pleasing him but he refuses to put his dick in my ass. Or my mouth. Or either of your mouths. I don’t get it.” (Ryan notes that Brendon doesn’t suggest Jon fucks his or Spencer’s ass, and knows it’s because Brendon can’t comprehend the idea of anyone wanting anything other than his ‘applebottom’.)

“That’s it,” Ryan says slowly, and then a little grin spreads across his face. “Ohh, that’s totally it. I don’t know how we didn’t think of it before! You’re a genius, Brendon!”

“I am?” Brendon blinks. “I mean, I know I totally am. But why? Are we gonna guilt trip him into having sex with us?”

Ryan grins, nuzzling his face into Brendon’s neck and kissing a couple of times. “Well, we’re going to have to kinda stake out the bus…”

-

The bus is on the road again and Spencer, Brendon and Ryan are all piled one on top of the other in Brendon’s bunk, having a group meeting of sorts in hushed voices. Jon is in the bunk directly above them and Ryan’s sure he can probably hear them whispering, but hopefully he can’t figure out what they’re talking about.

“Right, so we’re agreed. Spencer will hide out in the bathroom, we’ll lure him out into the front lounge and go from there,” Ryan whispers. Spencer nods and starts to climb out of the bunk as Ryan continues. “Alright, clothes off, everyone. Brendon, get your vibrator.”

“I must say,” Spencer says as he starts to undress, not bothering to whisper anymore, “your planning skills have vastly improved.”

“Well, we do actually have a plan this time, I guess,” Brendon says as he reaches for the little compartment in his bunk. “That’s an improvement.”

Ryan rolls out of the bunk and stretches out before pulling his shirt over his head. “Shut up before you ruin it,” he says, gesturing towards the pulled back curtain of Jon’s bunk. “Brendon, hurry the fuck up.”

Obediently, Brendon climbs out of the bunk and gives his ass a little shake. “Ready!”

-

“Ohhhh, Jonny booooooooooy,” Ryan calls out from his position in the front lounge, where he’s got Brendon bent over the couch, one hand clamped over his mouth to shut him up while the other carefully twists the vibrator. Brendon moans against his hand and Ryan shushes him. “There’s something you should totally see here!”

“I don’t want to see you fucking Brendon!” Jon calls back.

“Yes you do,” Ryan replies with a smirk. “But I’m not fucking Brendon anyway. Come look!”

Technically he’s not lying, he decides, especially considering he’s mostly just holding the vibrator inside of Brendon and not moving it.

“…And there’s no blowjobbery going on?” Jon asks after a moment.

“No blowjobbery and no handjobbery, either. In fact,” he pushes Brendon’s legs together so the vibrator stays in on its own, then steps away, “I’m not even touching Brendon at all. Seriously, you want to see this. Come look.”

“Alright, alright, I’m coming.”

Brendon snickers. “Not yet he isn’t.”

Ryan grins despite himself and smacks Brendon’s ass, which is about the point in time that Jon walks into the lounge.

For a second, there’s silence that’s so absolute that Ryan starts to worry, starts to feel uncomfortable, but then he realizes that it’s not silent at all because there’s that insistent buzzing, and then Brendon whimpers and Ryan laughs again.

Jon just stares. And gapes.

“You like what you see, Jon?” Ryan asks, taking a couple of steps in Jon’s direction and placing a gentle hand on his shoulder like he isn’t completely naked and this is totally normal. “That could be you, y’know. He wouldn’t even need any prep, fuck. You could just take that vibrator out and shove your dick in and he’d love it.” The hand slides down Jon’s arm. “It does turn you on, doesn’t it?”

Jon gapes a little more, and then his mouth starts to open and close, open and close before he squeezes his eyes shut and turns away from both Ryan’s touch and the sight in front of him. “You fucking… you told me there wouldn’t be any of this shit!” he exclaims, and Ryan almost feels guilty. Almost.

“I think if you think about it you’ll find that I didn’t say anything of the sort,” Ryan replies smoothly, and when Jon starts to march toward his bunk Ryan follows. “Look, Jon, you can’t hide in there. There’s the little problem of the fact that we can get in. Or maybe you want us to get in, is that the deal?”

“No! Shut up, Ryan!” Jon exclaims, bypassing the bunk area and heading for the back lounge. Ryan smirks and leans against the doorframe.

“You could have him, y’know. Over that table. On that couch you’re sitting down on right now.” Jon stands up again. “On the floor. Wherever you want. We’ve all seen the way you look at him. And fuck, Jon, that ass of his is so fucking tight and perfect. Ungh.” He pauses and takes a deep breath for dramatic effect, sliding one hand down his own stomach to grip his cock and start to stroke slowly. “You could even fuck me, if you wanted. Or Spencer.”

The look on Jon’s face is one of absolute mortification and horror, but Ryan takes the slight tenting in his pants to mean something else. Jon follows Ryan’s gaze and looks down.

“I’ve… I’ve gotta piss,” Jon stutters out, whirling around to head towards the bathroom.

“Oh, Brendon,” Ryan calls out in a sing song voice, “take that thing out of your ass and come through here.”

That makes Jon head towards the bathroom faster, and he pulls open the door just as Ryan feels Brendon’s arm slide around his waist from behind and a chin on his shoulder.

There’s a moment of stunned silence as Spencer stops jerking off and looks in Jon’s direction. “Oh, hey, man. I was nearly done, you want to finish me off?”

Jon just turns around and glares at Ryan. “This is… this is rape, or fucking something!”

Brendon’s hand covers Ryan’s on his cock, jerking him off faster, and Ryan hisses in pleasure before replying. “We’re not going to touch you or make you do anything, Jon,” he mutters, breath a little laboured. “But this would be so much easier if you just gave in. Brendon totally wants you to fuck him, don’t you, babe?”

At that, Brendon grinds against Ryan’s ass a little. “God, yes.”

Jon’s gaze moves from each of his bandmates’ faces to the bulge in his own pants before he looks up at Ryan and shrugs, just a little bit. “Okay.”

Ryan stares, blinks. “What?”

“Okay. I’ll do it,” Jon says, then lets out a peel of laughter. “Oh my God, I totally just said I’d sleep with my bandmates.”

“Yes. Yes, you did,” Spencer agrees, walking up behind Jon and wrapping his arms around him from behind. He starts undoing Jon’s belt, looking Ryan in the eyes with a devious little smirk. “And that may just be the first thing you’ve said on this bus that doesn’t make you a total retard.”

“Hey-” Jon starts, but then Spencer’s hand is in his pants, rubbing him, and he shuts up and tilts his head back onto Spencer’s shoulder, moaning. “Where the fuck did you learn to do that? Shit.”

Then Ryan has to stop focusing on Jon and Spencer because Brendon is using his free hand to tilt Ryan’s head back for a kiss. It doesn’t matter that he can’t see Jon right now, though, because he can practically feel Jon’s eyes burning into them.

“It’s fucking hot, right?” Spencer murmurs, and Ryan can picture him with his lips pressed against the shell of Jon’s ear. “You should see how Brendon looks when he’s sucking cock. Fucking amazing with those dick lips of his.”

Ryan hears Jon moan and the sound of clothes hitting the floor, and when he pulls away from Brendon and opens his eyes Spencer’s fingers are wrapped around Jon’s cock and he’s left in nothing but a shirt, which Spencer is already working off with his free hand.

“Jesus,” Brendon whispers in Ryan’s ear.

Licking over his lips, Ryan nods, not tearing his eyes away from the sight for a second. Then he pulls his hand away from his cock, and Brendon’s as well, before murmuring, “On your knees on the couch, babe.” He figures that the least he can do is let Brendon and Jon use the couch, since it is Jon’s first gay time and all.

Brendon presses a kiss to Ryan’s neck, then pulls away from him and crawls onto the couch, checking behind him to make sure there’s plenty of room for Jon. Ryan smirks.

“So,” he says as Spencer finally gets Jon’s shirt over his head, “are you gonna fuck Brendon, or what?”

Jon looks over at Brendon, who’s kneeling on the couch and looking at back at him expectantly.

“This is fucked up. Totally fucked up,” Jon says. Then he pulls away from Spencer and grins as he pushes Brendon’s face down into the cushions of the couch with one hand. He holds Brendon’s hip with the other and settles in behind him. “But hell yes, I am.”

Ryan grins and beckons Spencer to him, takes hold of his cock and watches Brendon’s back arch, listens to that familiar moan as Jon presses into him.

-

His arms stretched out across Jon and Spencer’s shoulders, Ryan sits on the couch with Brendon lying across their laps, and he smiles.

“So why did we do this again?” Spencer asks with a yawn. “I mean, I’m not complaining. It’s just that I was sure there was a reason for us having sex in the first place. You know, a real reason that didn’t revolve around us being young and horny.”

“I don’t think it was ever a real reason,” Ryan says, bemused.

“It totally was,” Brendon argues. “We were having sex to save the band, remember? We had all kinds of problems. The sexual tension, Spencer being even bitchier than usual, the way Jon kept looking at my ass but wouldn’t talk to me-”

“Pete Wentz,” Jon cuts in.

“Please don’t bring up Pete after sex,” Ryan whines, shuddering.

“Just because he wants your ass,” Jon continues, “does not mean that I can’t decide for myself when and where I bring him up.”

Ryan gives Jon a death glare.

“He’ll kill you will his bare hands if you keep that up, you know,” Brendon interjects. “And then if you die you won’t be invited to any future gay orgies.”

Jon falls silent for a few moments. “Guys, I don’t think I’ll be doing this again,” he says eventually, speaking very slowly and clearly. “I’m still not, you know, gay.”

Brendon, Ryan and Spencer all look at one another and declare in unison that Jon is, in fact, an idiot.

-

“So, Ryan,” Pete starts. They’re all chilling out backstage after their show in Vegas, and Pete’s hand is resting on Ryan’s knee. Brendon is sitting on Ryan’s other side, busy glaring at said hand. “Have you guys had that orgy yet?”

Ryan looks up at Pete, smiles innocently and shrugs. “I told you. We don’t do the band orgy thing.”

Pete sighs. “Well, if you ever do…”

“I know, Pete, I know,” Ryan says with a roll of his eyes. “We must invite you. Blah blah blah.”

The whole group is quiet for a moment before Jon pipes up. “So, I think we have some official Panic business to do back on the bus, don’t we, guys? We’d better get back.”

“Yeah, we do,” Brendon chirps, clambering to his feet and pushing Pete’s hand away from Ryan’s knee before pulling his boyfriend to his feet. “Really important stuff. Can’t wait one minute longer!”

Spencer and Jon get up as well, and then Pete gradually climbs to his feet. “Okay, I’ll come with you,” he says.

Shaking his head, Spencer shoots Pete a look that could wipe out an entire army of scene kids. “No, really. It’s private business. Legal stuff. You understand.”

Pete frowns. “But if it’s legal stuff shouldn’t I-”

“Bye Pete!” Brendon says, pushing at Pete’s shoulder until he sits before tugging Ryan out of the room, Spencer and Jon following closely behind him.

The last thing Ryan hears before Brendon closes the door is the sound of Pete’s voice. “What the fuck? Hey. Hey! Wait! You are totally having orgies!”

“Run!” Brendon yells, and Ryan laughs as he’s dragged down the hall.
*****************************************************************************
The band was good, Jon had to give them that, but what he had in his arms was better. His front was pressed against Brendon’s back. The singer was jittery, hyper as always, his body bumping Jon’s each time he moved.

Brendon turned his head, his eyes meeting Jon’s as he pressed back, deliberately this time, his ass grinding perfectly into the hard bulge he could feel in Jon’s jeans. He smirked when Jon’s hands tightened on his hips. He tipped his head back onto Jon’s shoulder. “It’s hot in here,” he yelled over the music, his lips brushing Jon’s cheek.

Jon nodded, his beard scraping Brendon’s neck as he turned to nip at it. He felt Brendon’s moan more than he heard it, the sound making Brendon’s back vibrate against Jon’s chest. Jon pushed his hips against Brendon, hearing him singing along faintly.

Brendon’s breath hitched as Jon’s mouth moved on his neck. He felt Jon’s hands slipping up his sides, beneath his shirt, baring his skin to the stifling air in the club. Brendon brought an arm up, his hand gripping Jon’s hair.

Jon groaned, the sound muffled against Brendon’s neck. He toyed with Brendon’s nipples, feeling him shudder, a small sound slipping from his mouth.

Brendon grabbed one of Jon’s hands. He spread his hand out over Jon’s and slid them downward, their tangled fingers, and skirted them over his belt buckle. Brendon curled Jon’s palm over the bulge at the front of his jeans, pressing Jon’s hand there. He turned his head to meet Jon’s mouth as he moaned.

Jon swallowed the sounds that poured out of Brendon as he rubbed the singer’s cock through his jeans. He took advantage of Brendon’s parted lips and thrust his tongue in for a taste. The hand at Brendon’s cock kept him pushed back, his ass grinding into Jon’s hardness.

Brendon pulled back, his lips brushing Jon's as he moved his hand away from Jon's to undo his belt. Jon grinned when he felt the loose leather against arm, dragging his hand up over Brendon's cock only to shove down the front of Brendon's jeans. Brendon panted against Jon’s mouth. “Jon, Jon, I.” He bucked his hips up, his head falling back to Jon’s shoulder once more.

“I wanna fuck you,” Jon panted against Brendon’s ear, circling his hips against Brendon’s. He could tell by the moan he felt against his chest that Brendon had heard him loud and clear. Brendon nodded, “Please, Jon,” and tugged at Jon’s wrist, pulling his hand from his jeans.

Jon grabbed Brendon’s hand pulling him along, pushing past the crowd to get to a side exit. Jon pushed through the door, into the cooler air of some Vegas back alley. As the door slammed shut behind them, he shoved Brendon against the wall of the building.

Brendon cried out as his back hit the brick wall. His hands shot out, catching Jon’s biceps and pulling him in tightly.

Jon groaned, claiming Brendon’s mouth again, his tongue pushing past Brendon’s bruised lips. He ground his hips forcefully, swallowing Brendon’s moans, Brendon’s cock meeting Jon’s through their jeans.

Brendon tangled his fingers into Jon’s hair, his legs shifting apart as Jon’s thigh pressed up between them. “Oh god,” he panted, his hips bucking. He fisted his hands in the material of Jon’s plain white t-shit.

Jon worked his hand down the back of Brendon’s sinfully tight jeans. His fingers slipped on Brendon’s skin, sweat gathering on his fingertips as they rubbed down the crack of Brendon’s ass.

Wide brown eyes stared up at Jon. “Please, please,” Brendon whimpered, pressing himself closer to Jon’s body. “I want it.” He kissed at Jon’s neck, lapping at the sweat pooled there.

“What do you want?” Jon questioned, the tip of his fingers finding Brendon’s hole and pressing there, earning him a gasp against his throat.

“That. Please, Jon, want it,” Brendon babbled, his breath hot on Jon’s skin. He threw his head back as a thick, dry finger pressed inside, a hitching breath falling from his lips at the stretch and burn. Brendon’s body jerked in Jon’s arms.

“That it? You want my fingers in your ass?” Jon grunted, pressing his cock against Brendon’s. He moved his finger, curling and pressing just inside so he could feel Brendon clenching around him.

“Yes, Jon, yes,” Brendon gasped, nodding, his wet hair slapping against his forehead.

Jon pulled his finger out, and his hand from Brendon’s jeans and shoved two fingers past Brendon’s lips.

Brendon moaned, flicking his tongue against the rough pads of his fingers, sucking and scraping his teeth along Jon’s skin.

“You want me to fuck you?” Jon growled, his lips brushing Brendon’s cheek. He smiled when Brendon nodded, his eyes dark, breathing hard through his nose as he worked his mouth around Jon’s fingers. “You gonna take it here? Outside? Where anybody could walk up and see us?”

Brendon moaned again, his eyes falling shut, working his hips against Jon’s again. He wanted it, so badly, and didn’t care how he got it.

Jon pulled his fingers from Brendon’s mouth with a pop and then his hand was down the back of Brendon’s jeans again. Brendon yelped when Jon pushed his fingers in, but shoved his ass back, forcing them deeper.

“Is that what you want?” Jon asked again, panting against Brendon’s mouth. He worked his free hand down between them, popping the button on Brendon’s jeans and pulling the zipper down.

Brendon whined, his tongue flicking out to lick at Jon’s lips, as he felt Jon’s hand close around him. He jerked his hips up, pushing through Jon’s fist, back against his fingers.

“C’mon, Brendon, tell me.” Jon spread his fingers apart inside Brendon, tightening his grip around Brendon’s cock.

“Yes, god damn it, fuck me, please,” Brendon gasped, his hands gripping at Jon’s back, his nails digging in slightly. He gasped at the drag on his insides when Jon pulled his fingers out and then let go of his cock.

Jon grasped Brendon’s hips and spun him around quickly, Brendon’s hands bracing against the rough brick. “This how you want it?” Jon said low and gravelly against Brendon’s shoulder.

“Yes, yes.” Brendon squirmed as Jon kissed down his back through his t-shirt. Jon took hold of Brendon’s unbuttoned jeans by the belt loops and yanked, the material bunching about his knees. “Please,” Brendon said when Jon’s lips slid over the curve of his ass, stubble scraping gently.

Jon pulled at his fly, shoving his own pants down enough to free his cock, and pulled a packet of lube from his pocket. Brendon whined, looking over his shoulder to watch Jon slick his cock. “Come on,” he said, wiggling his hips just as Jon’s slick fingers pushed into him again, three this time. His breathing hitched and he pushed back. “Now. Just. Please. I want,” Brendon gasped. He sighed with relief when Jon pulled out, palming his ass, holding him open.

Jon took hold of his cock, pressing the head right up against Brendon, feeling him try and push back. “No just…” Jon pushed forward slowly, moving his hands to Brendon’s hips, holding him still. “Fuck. Bren, god.”

Brendon whined as Jon pushed slowly, forcing him open, stretching him wide. He dropped his head, breathing hard as he dealt with the burn, stretch, drag of Jon's cock on his insides.

Jon pulled back a little before he was completely in and pushed inside quickly and groaned when Brendon tightened around him. “Ah!” He held still, giving Brendon a chance to adjust.

Brendon trembled against him, feeling rough denim and the scrape of Jon’s belt buckle against the backs of his thighs. He moved his right hand from the wall, reaching back to touch Jon’s hip. “I’m. Yeah, it’s. Fuck me,” he moaned, pushing back a little.

Jon leaned over, setting his forehead against Brendon’s shoulder as he started to thrust earnestly. Brendon moaned, moving his hand from Jon’s hip to his own cock, curling his fingers around and fisting the slick length.

Jon thrust forward again, batting Brendon’s hands away. “I don’t want you to. Not yet.” His fingers gripped tightly at the base of Brendon’s cock, holding off his orgasm. He held Brendon’s left hand firmly against the wall with his own left hand.

Brendon gasped, pushing back against Jon’s thrusts, his breath hitching each time Jon pushed into him. “Please. I want. I.” He hissed when Jon shoved in hard, the palm of his hand pressing painfully into the wall. “Fucker! That hurts. Lemme come.” He got his sweaty hand around Jon’s wrist, tugging at it in vain.

Jon groaned, biting at Brendon’s neck. “No.” He gasped, thrusting deep once, twice more.

“No! Not yet,” Brendon babbled as Jon came with a low cry, thrusting through it, spilling himself deep into Brendon. Brendon set his head against his arm that was braced on the wall, his free hand grappling at Jon’s wrist. “Please, Jon.”

Jon reached his free hand down as he pulled out, pressing his fingers inside, keeping Brendon full. “Be still, Brendon,” he said, his voice low. When Brendon nodded silently, Jon sank to his knees. He slipped his fingers out, moving them to hold Brendon’s cheeks apart as he leaned forward, licking into him.

“Oh. Oh!” Brendon shuddered, his fingers stilling on Jon’s wrist. He had a split second to think about the fact that Jon was on his knees, eating his own come from Brendon’s ass, before the hand on his cock started to move.

Jon moaned, twisting his tongue deeper as Brendon clenched around it. Two more quick strokes to Brendon’s cock and he was done, coming with a shrill cry as he spilled over Jon’s fist, Jon’s tongue buried inside him. Jon pulled him through it, Brendon’s body trembling against Jon’s mouth and hands.

Jon puckered his lips against Brendon’s clenching entrance, sucking gently, letting his own come slide into his mouth. Brendon groaned and whimpered until Jon stood, spinning a dazed Brendon around and pressing his back to the wall once more. Brendon’s brown eyes were bright as he took in the sight of Jon’s lips glossed over with his own come. He leaned in, flicking his tongue out to taste and then Jon pulled him closer, opening his mouth against Brendon’s.

Brendon moaned as Jon pushed his come into Brendon’s mouth. The kiss grew messy as Brendon sucked at Jon’s tongue, eagerly swallowing it down. Brendon’s tongue chased after Jon’s, plundering his mouth to get it all. He pulled back and panting heavily as they pressed their foreheads together. “God…damn…Jon.”

Jon huffed out a laugh, his hot breath ghosting over Brendon’s flushed cheeks. He wiped his hand over the thigh of his jeans and then pulled them up over his hips, returning button, zipper and belt to their rightful places.

Brendon sighed quietly as Jon crouched to grab his jeans pulling them up slowly. He could feel some of the come Jon missed sliding down the inside of his thigh and he squirmed a little. Jon grinned up at him, planting a wet kiss on his hip as he did up Brendon’s jeans for him. He stood, flipping Brendon’s shirt back down, covering his stomach, as Brendon pulled him down for a kiss. “You’re dirty, Jon Walker.”

Jon just wiggled his eyebrows, grinning as Brendon grabbed his hand and they started for the car.
*****************************************************************************
The air is thick with tension; Brendon glances at Ryan and gets a death stare in return. He grins sheepishly, rubs at the back of his neck where his hair is too long, and waves his other hand, palm up, in some vague apology. Ryan’s eyes narrow, his mouth twitches up on the left which tells Brendon he’s really pissed, and all Brendon can do is shrug wordlessly.

Ryan exhales harshly through his nose, turns on his heel and next all Brendon can see and hear is the slam of the door, fury resonating through the room. Jon sighs beside him, shakes his head and looks to Spencer, they exchange conversation silently and Jon follows Ryan’s path, traces his anger into the bedroom.

Spencer steps closer to Brendon, and Brendon automatically takes a step back, feels the hard press of couch against the back of his legs. ‘I'm sorry?’ He offers, and as soon as the words leave his mouth in the form of a question he can see Spencer’s brow set, can see his mouth form hard lines and he takes another step toward Brendon.

‘Why?’ Spencer asks, and he’s so close Brendon can feel the word burn over his chin, he shakes his head. ‘No, seriously, tell me. Why?’

Brendon shakes his head again, presses his legs harder into the couch. ‘I don’t - I. Spence, come on.’

‘Every time,’ Spencer says lowly, and his eyes pierce through Brendon’s skin. ‘Bren, you do this every time. You know how it makes him feel; you fucking know it and you still press. He’s not like you, Brendon, and you can’t keep - ’

‘Not like me?’ Brendon hisses and he feels his spine bristle, stands up straighter to level himself with Spencer. ‘What the fuck is that supposed to mean?’

Spencer’s mouth curls a little, and through the ice in his eyes the smile is warm, non-threatening. ‘He’s not an exhibitionist.’

Brendon rubs at his neck again; he really needs to book in for a haircut. ‘I don’t - Spence, I don’t mean it. I'm not trying to piss him off, I'm just. That’s me, you know?’

Spencer nods, understanding. ‘You’ve gotta stop it though Bren, or at least pull it back a little. It’s getting to him, can’t you see that? He’s actually happy right now, content, and you can’t keep pushing him into this stupid game of yours. I want you to stop, ok?’

Brendon’s mouth drops; did Spencer just give him an order? He steps forward, off the couch and glares. ‘You can’t tell me what to do, Spencer,’ He says evenly, voice low and rough from lack of sleep.

Spencer’s eyebrows knit together, he frowns. ‘That’s not what I'm - ’

‘Fuck you,’ Brendon spits, stepping forward again until it’s his words forcing Spencer back. ‘You don’t control me, you can’t give me instructions.’

‘Bren, I didn’t mean - ’

‘You know what your problem is, Spencer Smith?’ Brendon asks, taking another step and now Spencer’s backed up against a coffee table; Brendon jabs him hard in the chest with his finger.

Spencer’s gaze drops to his chest, then back to Brendon. ‘Did you just - never mind. Please, Brendon Urie, enlighten me. What exactly is my problem?’

‘You have control issues,’ Brendon declares; he can see the words digging their way under Spencer’s skin the second they leave his mouth. ‘You always need to be in charge, all the time, of everything. You can’t handle it when things are out of your power, when people are out of your power. I grew up with oppression, I grew up with rules and I know how to break them. You can’t tell me what to do, Spence, and it kills you.’

Spencer scowls at him, and he returns the jab to Brendon’s chest with a little more force. ‘It’s called being an adult, Brendon. It’s called making calls, being decisive. If you stopped acting like a sugar-deprived child for one second, maybe you’d understand that. I don’t need to be in charge, I just am by default. God knows we’d all be fucked if any major decisions were left up to you.’

‘That’s not fair,’ Brendon defends, and he finds himself backed up against the couch again, Spencer’s taken steps forward without him realising. ‘You treat me like a child, all the time. You never let me have a say in anything, ever, so what am I supposed to do? You do everything, Spence, everything. All the business stuff, deciding who goes to what interviews, you plan the shows with my ideas! Tell a cat he’s a dog enough times and soon he’ll start fetching the paper.’

‘That’s what you think?’ Spencer laughs, and his fingers curl around Brendon’s wrist, light touch, but there all the same.

‘Yeah,’ Brendon nods, trying to tug his wrist away but failing. ‘That’s what I think.’

‘Well you wanna know what I think?’ Spencer hisses, taking another step forward till his body is pressed flush against Brendon’s trembling one. ‘I think you like it. I think you love being controlled, it’s all you know. You think you’re some hard-ass rule breaker, but you cried in your bunk every night till Daddy came to our show. I see you in interviews, Brendon, the way you look to Ryan, Jon, me, anyone, before you answer, the way you change what you’ve said if everyone else doesn’t agree. You hate being your own person; you don’t know how to be your own person.’

‘No,’ Brendon shakes his head, squeezes his eyes closed. ‘No, that’s - ’

‘Shut up,’ Spencer growls, and Brendon falls silent. ‘Look at me,’ and Brendon opens his eyes.

‘See,’ Spencer gloats, twisting his fingers harder, pushing back a little more. ‘You’re nothing more than a product of the people around you, Brendon. Look at you. The makeup, the clothes, the hair. Ryan completely remoulded you, and you let him. And the way you are on stage, you’ll do anything for attention, anything for Ryan to just look at you, to validate you. You need constant reassurance; you need your hand held and your tummy rubbed because you just can’t be on your own. Everything you do, Brendon, you do for other people, so they’ll notice you, so they’ll like you, so they’ll tell you everything’s ok.’

‘No,’ Brendon says, and he can’t tear his gaze away from Spencer’s eyes, solid blue fire. ‘Please, I'm - my wrist...’

Spencer looks down; his fingers are squeezing hard around Brendon’s arm, white spreading out from under his grip. He clutches a little harder, and Brendon breathes out heavily, unevenly. His body is still shaking, but Spencer can feel an unmistakable pressure against his thigh, and he grins.

‘You like this,’ He states, and Brendon shakes his head violently, tries again to pull away. Spencer digs the fingers of his other hand into Brendon’s hip, pulls him closer. ‘You like this.’

‘Please,’ Brendon whispers, the upper half of his body tilting backwards.

‘Please what?’ Spencer asks, and Brendon doesn’t answer. ‘Please what?’

‘I don’t -’ Brendon shakes his head frantically, and then Spencer can feel the slow grind of Brendon’s hips against his, the boy’s breath coming in ragged pants.

‘You love being controlled,’ Spencer says, presses an open-mouthed kiss to Brendon’s cheek. ‘I bet you’d love to be dominated.’

Brendon moans, jerks his hips harder and Spencer pushes him onto the couch, straddles his thighs in one swift move. He leans down, trailing wet kisses over Brendon’s neck, along his jaw and up to his ear. He bites down hard on the soft skin there, and Brendon hisses against his cheek, manages to wind his free hand down to palm at Spencer’s back, pressing him down.

Spencer rubs against him harder, and lets go of Brendon’s wrist. Brendon immediately grips onto his thigh, thrusts up wildly. Spencer strokes his way down Brendon’s body, dragging his nails across ribs until he reaches the buttons of his fly. He unsnaps them, never releasing Brendon’s ear from his teeth, and tugs the jeans down a bit, Brendon lifting his hips to help him.

Spencer snakes his hand inside, rubs teasingly at his thighs, and Brendon moans desperately, snapping his hips upward.

‘I bet you’d love it,’ Spencer growls, tongue tracing the shell of Brendon’s ear, ‘if I tied you up. If I tied you to the bed so hard you had rope burn for days.’

Brendon makes a pleased noise deep at the back of his throat, and Spencer finally obliges, wrapping his fingers around Brendon’s cock, palming him roughly.

‘I bet you’d moan like a whore,’ Spencer continues, letting Brendon push up into his hand. ‘I bet you’d barely be able to contain yourself, you’d be so easy.’ He snaps his wrist, tugging at Brendon harder and Brendon clenches his eyes shut, bites down on his lip.

‘Will you let me do that?’ Spencer whispers, kissing the side of Brendon’s mouth, and he makes a noise of agreement, nodding his head.

‘What?’ Spencer asks, biting Brendon’s lip with him. ‘What was that? Tell me, Bren, I want you to say it.’

‘Yes,’ Brendon hisses, kissing Spencer’s chin. ‘Yes, please, please.’

He moans loudly and his mouth drops open, Spencer takes the opportunity to slide his tongue in, kissing Brendon harshly. Brendon tilts his head, deepening the kiss, and Spencer moves his hand a little harder in return.

Brendon whimpers into his mouth, and bucks his hips up, pressing himself against Spencer’s thighs.

‘What else would you let me do to you?’ Spencer breathes, running his thumb along the underside of Brendon’s cock, then up higher to drag across the slit.

Brendon pants loudly in response, and Spencer slows his administrations, gazes at him evenly. Brendon whines, glaring at Spencer.

‘What else,’ Spencer repeats, tightening his grip on Brendon’s cock, ‘would you let me do to you?’

‘Spence,’ Brendon mumbles, kissing his jaw. ‘Spence, please.’

‘What, Brendon?’ Spencer demands.

‘Any-Anything,’ He moans, bucking his hips up again and Spencer grins, jerks his wrist viciously.

‘Would you let me fuck you?’ He asks, biting down on Brendon’s shoulder, running his tongue across the mark.

‘Yes,’ Brendon sighs, wriggling slightly under him. ‘Yes, yes please, I’d let you, you could do anything, please, Spence, just - ’

Spencer smirks against his collarbone, biting gently on the dips and grooves. ‘You’re such a slut,’ He admonishes and Brendon just nods his head in response.

‘Would you let me watch while,’ He pants, feeling Brendon tense in his hand, ‘while somebody else fucked you?’

Brendon nods again, letting go of Spencer’s hip and winding his fingers in his hair. ‘Yes, yes, can you, please, can you kiss -’ He’s cut off by Spencer’s lips against his, tongue probing for entrance and Brendon opens his mouth immediately.

Spencer lets Brendon control the kiss for a moment, then pulls back, pressing their foreheads together. He twists his wrist again, and Brendon arches his back, moans loudly.

‘Can I?’ Spencer asks, his voice husky, and Brendon opens his eyes, glances up at him questioningly.

‘Can you - ’

‘Can I watch?’ Spencer asks, rubbing his free hand up Brendon’s chest, running his thumb over his nipple.

‘You - you, what? Spence, I - oh god, oh god, Spence, I -’ Brendon trails off into another moan, louder this time, and Spencer slows down again, his fingers barely brushing over Brendon’s cock.

‘Pl-please,’ Brendon begs, thrusting his hips up, but Spencer ignores him. ‘Please, I'm so, I'm so, Spence, please.’

‘Can I. Watch,’ Spencer repeats, pulling away as Brendon tries to kiss him. ‘Answer me, Brendon, or I get up and walk away right now.’

Brendon glares at him half-heartedly, his hips still pushing up desperately. Spencer cocks an eyebrow, moves one finger gently, barely.

‘Yes,’ Brendon hisses, pulling at his hair roughly. ‘Yes, yes, just, please, can you, I need, Spence, please, I'm.’

Spencer smirks again, and leans down to kiss Brendon’s clenched jaw. He pumps his wrist hard, flicking and twisting and Brendon groans, nosing at Spencer’s face till he tilts his head and kisses him. Brendon licks at his mouth, bucking his hips up till they stutter, he pants against Spencer and whimpers loudly. Spencer works his hand faster, not slowing down and he feels Brendon come in hot spurts, feels it slide through his fingers and drip down his fist.

Brendon rides out his orgasm jerkily, body still shaking and his breath still faltering. Spencer grins against his neck, lazily traces the tensing muscles with his tongue. Brendon exhales noisily, and Spencer sits up, drags his hand slowly out of Brendon’s pants, up his belly and watches the cum smear across his skin. He raises his fingers to his mouth, licking at them slowly, sucking them one by one into his mouth and Brendon groans under him, watches Spencer clean his hand thoroughly.

‘So,’ Spencer said casually, pushing his hips down against Brendon idly. ‘Do I fuck you first, or do I watch someone else fuck you first?’

Brendon grins, running his tongue along his teeth, then nips at Spencer’s chin, breath hot and shuddering.

‘I want you,’ He purrs, grinding his hips back and Spencer’s almost alarmed to feel he’s hard again already. He slithers his body slowly off of Brendon’s, finds his footing on the floor and grabs for his wrist, tugs him up.

‘Come on,’ He orders, letting Brendon fall bonelessly against his side. He drags him towards the bedroom, not bothering to knock as he flings the door open. Ryan and Jon are sitting on the bed, and he can tell by the looks on their faces they heard what happened.

‘Get up,’ Spencer says, and Ryan gapes at him, slides off the bed nonetheless. Jon follows him, his gaze trained on Brendon and Spencer turns, sees his ruffled hair and swollen lips, see the start of a hickey on his clavicle. He looks a little lower and he can see Brendon’s erection straining at his undone jeans, can see the dark mess of hair curling out the top and up to his belly, can see the smear of cum across his still-heaving stomach.

‘I'm going to fuck him,’ Spencer declares proudly, and Brendon presses his body hard against his back, nuzzles at the side of his face. ‘Who wants to watch?’

Ryan’s mouth drops open further, and behind him, Jon raises a tentative hand.

Spencer smirks, and grabs Brendon out from behind him, pushes him roughly onto the bed. Brendon moans, his fingers slinking down his body and Spencer clicks his tongue, smacks him on the foot.

‘Strip,’ He orders, and Brendon blushes slightly, but pulls his t-shirt slowly off his body, dropping it to the floor. He scrambles up onto his feet, bouncing on the bed a little before dragging his jeans down further, sitting back down to kick them off. He lies back against the pillows, fingers scraping over his chest idly. Spencer glances around, sees their suitcases propped against the wall and unzips Brendon's, rummaging through it.

He makes a sharp triumphant noise, pulling out a container of lube and some condoms, and he examines the bottle carefully. It’s mostly empty.

‘Slut,’ He sneers, tugging his t-shirt off and removing his jeans. He crawls onto the bed, one leg on either side of Brendon and leans down to kiss a trail up his belly, biting down hard on a nipple, teasing it between his teeth. Brendon moans again, rubbing his hard-on against Spencer’s thigh and Ryan makes a strangled noise from somewhere behind them.

Brendon grins, eyeing him lazily. ‘Ryan Ross, you dirty little tramp.’

Spencer laughs, and hands Brendon a condom. ‘Put this on me,’ He instructs, and Brendon opens it hurriedly, goes to grab at Spencer’s cock.

‘With your teeth,’ Spencer demands, and Brendon looks at him hesitantly, but glances at the condom, puts it in his mouth gently. He moves forward, wrapping his mouth delicately around Spencer’s cock and using his tongue to position the condom carefully. He slides his mouth down awkwardly, using one hand to assist, leaving the other on the bed for balance. He manages to get it just over halfway before Spencer tugs him off, rolls it down fully.

Brendon gazes up at him, breathing heavily through his nose, his eyes dark with want and lust. He licks his lips anxiously, and Spencer strokes his face, skimming his thumb in and out of his mouth. ‘Hands and knees, now.’

Brendon obeys, twisting his body around and clambering up the bed quickly, his fingers automatically tangling themselves in the sheets. Spencer shuffles up behind him, pressing his erection into the back of Brendon’s thigh. Brendon moans loudly, pushing back against him and Spencer lets his cock slide up against his entrance. He grabs the lube, uncapping the bottle and spreading it over himself, closing his eyes in pleasure. He makes a loud, exaggerated noise and Brendon glances back at him, whines desperately.

‘You want this?’ Spencer asks, stroking himself harder and Brendon’s hips jerk back in reply. ‘Come on, tell me baby, tell me what you want.’

Brendon whines again, rubbing up against him frantically. ‘I want you,’ He moans, fingers twisting harder into the sheets. ‘I want you in me, please, Spence, please.’

Spencer grins back at Jon and Ryan, and kneads at the small of Brendon’s back, makes calm soothing noises. Then he pushes in, completely, in one go, and Brendon makes a loud groaning sound, dropping his head down between his hands.

‘Fuck,’ Spencer hisses, his nails digging into the base of Brendon’s spine. ‘Fuck, for such a slut, you’re tight.’

Brendon mumbles something incoherent, his face pressed into the bed, and before Spencer can even make a move, Brendon pushes back against him, hard. Spencer makes a hissing noise, his nails digging harder, deeper, and he can feel his cock twitching inside Brendon. He pulls back a little, enjoying the breathy whimper Brendon makes, and pushes back in, biting his lower lip as the sensations flood straight to his crotch, warm and low.

He glances down at Brendon, spread out in front of him, trembling and aching for more contact, dying for it. He watches, angling his hips higher as the fingers on one of Brendon’s hands unfurl from the sheets, creep slowly up his body, he watches as Brendon wraps a hand around himself, movements deliberate, precise.

Spencer chuckles, deep and throaty and he raises an eyebrow at Jon. ‘Needy, isn’t he?’ He asks, and Jon nods in awe, both hands fisting tight in the shirt stretched over his belly.

‘He feels,’ Spencer pants, pausing to thrust into Brendon harder, eliciting a long, drawn-out moan from him. ‘feels, divine. Like heaven, Jon, it’s unbelievable.’

Jon nods again, and even from this distance Spencer can see his knuckles are white with tension, his shirt bunched so forcefully it’s ridden up, a long expanse of smooth stomach exposed. Spencer grins, and fucks Brendon harder.

Brendon moans, his head rolling from side to side on the bed, his hand moving faster between his legs. ‘Spence, can you, harder, harder, oh god.’

‘You have no shame,’ Spencer taunts, fingers on one hand drumming beats along Brendon’s spine. ‘No shame, listen to you, begging like a whore. You’re a whore, Brendon, aren’t you?’

‘Yes, I-’ Brendon whimpers, rocking himself back hard onto Spencer’s cock, ‘whore, I'm a whore, just, just, can you, please?’

Spencer grins, obliging, and he rakes his nails harder into Brendon’s skin as he picks up his pace, the sound of flesh on flesh resonating through the room. Jon’s breathing hard behind him, Spencer tilts his head far enough to see how low his hands are, spread flat and taut across his hips. Ryan’s backed up against a wall, mouth open, face flushed, but his eyes are like lasers on the sharp muscles in Brendon’s back, flexing and straining as the singer jolts backwards, moaning obscenely as Spencer drives into him just as hard.

He feels the rub of Brendon’s ankle against his thigh, creeping higher, and he manages to hook a leg around Spencer’s, pulling him closer. Spencer growls, one arm angling back to grip the leg and wrench it higher, twisting Brendon’s body open to his movements. Brendon cries out, and Spencer slides his other hand under his belly, digging tight into his ribs as he pulls Brendon up off the bed, so his back is flush against Spencer’s chest.

‘You don’t,’ Spencer warns, completely unbalanced and just as uncaring, ‘make the moves, you hear? You don’t control this, Brendon, you enjoy it.’

Brendon nods his head frantically, body still pushing desperately down onto Spencer’s, hand still jerking. Spencer feels a slow burn up his spine; he releases Brendon back down onto the bed, using a firm hand at the base of the boy’s neck to push his face into the blankets. His other hand clutches at Brendon’s hip, his fingers finding their place in ridges and dents and he doubles his speed, fucking Brendon so hard he can feel the bed shake under them.

Brendon mumbles something incomprehensible, words smothered by the sheets and Spencer can feel the thudthud of his heart through his hipbone, pulse erratic and rapid. He pulls Brendon’s head up just in time for him to hear Spencer snarl through his orgasm, the sensation burning through his blood, ripping through his body.

Spencer lets go of Brendon, dropping him back to the bed and pulling out, panting harshly. Brendon rolls over, hand sliding down to his cock immediately, pout obvious. ‘I didn’t - ’

‘Shut up,’ Spencer says, chest rising and falling and his breathing loud. ‘I told you, you don’t control this. Jon’s going to fuck you now, and if you’re as good for him as you were for me, maybe I'll let you come this time.’

Brendon nods obediently, palms falling back to the sheets and Spencer climbs off the bed, stretches his hand out to Jon. ‘Come on,’ he whispers, still out of breath.

Jon stumbles forward, hard already and Spencer takes his shirt off, kissing his stubbled jaw. Jon runs his fingers up and down Spencer’s back, lets him unbutton his pants, slide them to the floor. Jon steps out of them, and Spencer kisses him firmly, holding onto his chin. ‘He likes it hard.’

‘I don’t - ’

‘Hard,’ Spencer repeats, stroking Jon’s check soothingly. ‘It’s ok to be rough, he fucking loves it.’

Jon nods, then nudges Brendon, forces him to roll back over and climb up onto his knees again. Spencer tosses him a condom and Jon opens the packet, breathing unevenly. He slides it on, Brendon’s in front of him twitching with arousal and need, and Jon doesn’t waste any time, he presses straight in. Brendon’s back bows up, low scratchy moans slipping past his teeth and he slams his hand against the bed, grips down hard.

‘Sorry,’ Jon mumbles, hips stilled in apologies. Brendon hisses lightly, but his body betrays him, jutting backwards and Spencer chuckles.

‘God, you just can’t get enough, can you?’ He taunts, stepping back against the wall and wrapping his fingers light around Ryan’s wrist. Jon sets up a brutal pace, hands pressing solid, compact on Brendon’s back, thumbs moving in soothing motions. Brendon makes a series of aching, guttural noises, resting low on the bed so he can slide one hand under his body; wrap it firm around his cock.

Spencer applies some pressure to Ryan’s arm, tugs gently. ‘Come on,’ He urges, and Ryan glances at him, eyes wide and uncertain.

‘What happens in Vegas,’ Spencer tries, his free hand slipping to Ryan’s waist, rubbing gently at smooth exposed skin.

‘We-we’re not in-’ Ryan falters, and Spencer smiles reassuringly, fingers scraping at his belt.

‘Doesn’t matter, doesn’t matter,’ He whispers, and Ryan doesn’t stop him, lets him unbuckle his belt and wrench it free. He lets Spencer unzip his jeans, tug them down, but when Spencer goes to slide his fingers lower, Ryan mirrors him, grabs at his wrist.

‘I-no, Spence, no, she’ll-’

Spencer kisses him, presses his lips hard to stem the words and he can feel Ryan, yield, can feel the barriers crumble slightly, just enough. ‘What do you want?’ He asks, and Ryan’s eyes melt down, pool into raw lust.

‘Come on,’ He says, his hand moving in slow lines across the plane of Ryan’s stomach, touch, affection, all Ryan’s ever wanted.

‘I'm not,’ Ryan tries, his fingers sliding up Spencer’s arm, curling around a bicep. ‘Please, just - a little, not. I can’t. Only a little.’

Spencer gets it, he hears the words Ryan doesn’t say and he steers him across the room, stands him in front of Brendon. ‘Brendon,’ He says, and the boy doesn’t hear, his head is burrowed in the sheets again as Jon fucks him, hard, thumbs still working in silent apologies.

‘Brendon,’ Spencer says again, smacking him firm across the shoulder.

Brendon yelps, ripping his head up and glaring, and Spencer gestures, directs his attention to Ryan’s undone pants, his straining erection.

‘You want more,’ He tells him smugly, and Brendon’s eyes flash, he leans in and noses at Ryan’s crotch. Ryan’s breathing is loud, erratic; Spencer can hear it over the slap of Jon’s thighs against Brendon’s ass, over Brendon mewling, desperate, over the sound of Jon’s grunts. Ryan hooks his thumbs into his jeans, slipping them down his legs slowly and Spencer delights in the hunger that burns in Brendon’s eyes at the exposure, the long lines of milky soft skin.

‘Here,’ Spencer says, handing Ryan a condom, watching as he rolls it on, shaky. ‘You don’t know where that boy’s mouth has been.’

Ryan grips tentatively at Brendon’s shoulders, glancing back to Spencer, who rakes a nail up Brendon’s back, hisses, ‘Take it, take it you slut.’

Brendon obliges, deep-throating Ryan in one go and Ryan moans, his eyes fixed on the sight of his cock sliding in and out of Brendon’s mouth. Brendon hollows his cheeks around him, his hips rocking back steadily. Behind him, Jon’s fingers tighten on Brendon’s waist and he throws his head back, sweat dripping down the harsh lines of his neck, rolling onto his chest. He stills, body tensing, and Brendon makes a noise of delight against Ryan’s pelvis as Jon comes inside of him.

Jon pulls out, collapsing on the bed in a daze, one hand still splayed against Brendon’s thigh, thumb continuing its motion. Spencer climbs up beside him, balancing on his knees to wrap one arm around Brendon’s waist, grasping his cock firmly. Brendon whines, gasping around Ryan and Spencer laughs, lets him fuck into his hand. He can feel how close he is; can feel the trembling of his thighs and the way Brendon’s shaking unsteadily on the bed. He presses a kiss to the base of Brendon’s spine, then down, his lips blazing hot and wet over Brendon’s skin. He uses his free hand to spread Brendon’s legs across the bed a bit wider, opening him up and Spencer grins, leans down to probe his tongue against Brendon’s entrance.

That’s as far as he gets before Brendon comes, hot white mess across Spencer’s fingers again and he pulls back, rubbing his face up the length of Brendon’s sweat-drenched back. Brendon’s breathing heavily, panting around Ryan’s cock and Ryan can’t stop himself, he bucks his hips forward, thrusting himself into Brendon’s mouth. Brendon growls a little, but opens his throat wider and Ryan fists his hands in Brendon’s hair, panting harshly.

‘Oh, oh god,’ He breathes, and Spencer smirks up at him, still sprawled across Brendon, his toes wriggling against Jon’s knee.

‘He’s good, isn’t he? Christ, that mouth, that fucking mouth,’ Spencer grins, stroking warm hands down Brendon’s trembling ribs. Ryan nods frantically, gripping Brendon’s head tighter.

‘Bren, Bren, oh,’ Ryan tries, his head tipping back and Spencer watches the sharp lines of his neck, the tensing muscles.

‘Pull out,’ Spencer instructs, and Ryan looks at him, confused. ‘Finish yourself; Brendon wants you to come on his face.’

Ryan glances down at Brendon, and Spencer digs an elbow into the hollow of his spine, the deep grooves in his lower back. ‘Don’t you, you slut?’

Brendon whines, nods, and Spencer digs in again, till he releases Ryan’s cock from his mouth. Ryan steps back, unsteady, and Spencer gestures vaguely. Ryan peels the condom off, dropping it to the floor and picks up where Brendon stopped, wraps long fingers around himself, head back, eyes closed.

Spencer feels a warm hand stroke up the back of his thigh, and he tilts his head enough to let Jon kiss below his ear, nuzzling. Ryan makes a low, strangled sound, somewhere deep in his chest and Spencer looks back just in time to see him explode on Brendon’s face. Brendon whimpers, tilting his chin up so it hits him across a cheekbone and Ryan steps back, his breathing still the most audible sound in the room.

Spencer grabs Brendon by the shoulders, twisting him up and around to face him and he kisses him, hard, fast, firm, fingers carding roughly through cum-soaked hair. He can taste Ryan, taste the need, and Brendon pushes back against him just as hard, all teeth and tongue and heat. He can feel Jon, still stroking warm up the back of his leg, and Spencer runs a hand down Brendon’s chest, dragging fingers in and out of ribs. Brendon purrs at the touch, arching his body and Spencer touches their foreheads together, presses gentle kisses to the side of his mouth.

‘See what happens when I call the shots?’ He whispers, and Brendon nods, smiling.

‘You need to be controlled,’ Spencer tells him, fingers curling and uncurling around Brendon’s side. ‘You need to be taken care of, Brendon.’

Brendon nods again, kisses Spencer’s jaw.

‘You need me,’ Spencer clarifies, and he hears the rustle of denim as Ryan zips his jeans back up.

‘Yes,’ Brendon whimpers, hands pressed low to Spencer’s belly. ‘Yes.’

‘Good,’ Spencer murmurs, threading his fingers through Brendon’s and resting both their hands on his chest, over his heart. He kisses Brendon, gentle.

‘I'll take such good care of you.’




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