Posted originally on the Archive_of_Our_Own at https://archiveofourown.org/
works/128723.
  Rating:
      Explicit
  Archive Warning:
      Underage
  Category:
      M/M
  Fandom:
      Bandom, Panic_At_The_Disco
  Relationship:
      Ryan_Ross/Spencer_Smith/Brendon_Urie
  Stats:
      Published: 2010-10-14 Words: 3835
****** Honor Amongst Thieves ******
by fictionalaspect
Summary
     "No," Ryan says. "I refuse to take responsibility for this. All I
     said was that--"
     "--I was a two-pump chump who'd blow his load over the first girl who
     showed me more than an inch of bare skin," Brendon says grimly. "Even
     if that girl was my grandmother."
     "Oh my god, fucking let it go," Ryan says.
"I never agreed to this," Ryan says, shifting on the couch. He's slumped down
in between the overstuffed arm and Spencer's legs. Brendon's couch really isn't
big enough for the three of them.
Spencer lifts his arm from behind Ryan's head and smacks him. "Shut up,"
Spencer says. "This is all your fault in the first place. If you hadn't said--"
"No," Ryan says. "I refuse to take responsibility for this. All I said was
that--"
"--I was a two-pump chump who'd blow his load over the first girl who showed me
more than an inch of bare skin," Brendon says grimly. "Even if that girl was my
grandmother."
"Oh my god, fucking let it go," Ryan says, thumping his head back against the
cushion. "I was tired and you were getting on my nerves. Spencer, back me up on
this one. He was being fucking annoying."
"You were harsh, dude," Spencer says. "It was kind of uncalled for."
"Fucking traitor," Ryan says.
"I don't know if this is going to work," Brendon says, still fumbling behind
his TV with the rabbit-eared antennae. Ryan didn't know they even made those
anymore, but apparently they still work. That or Brendon's stealing cable from
his neighbors, which seems to be the more likely explanation. "Can you guys see
naked people yet?"
"Nah," Spencer says. "Static. I--oh, wait. Maybe? I think. Are those legs?"
"No," Ryan says sullenly.
"Naked legs?" Brendon says, from behind the TV.
-
The problem with Brendon is that he takes everything so seriously. Ryan knows
that people think Brendon's all fun-and-games, song-and-dance and all that shit
but once he's got an idea, he turns into a sneaky motherfucker who convinces
your best friend that there needs to be a jerkoff contest so he can defend his
honor.
"Once I get this right," Brendon says, fiddling with the cable box, "You'll
see, Ryan Ross. You're going to be all gross and sticky and I will reign
supreme."
"Assuming I was serious," Ryan says, "which I wasn't, this totally doesn't
count anyway."
"Why not?" Spencer says, frowning.
"The whole point was that Brendon's going to blow his load with a real girl,"
Ryan says smugly. He can't believe he didn't realize this before. This is
totally his one-way ticket out of this stupid idea. "Porn doesn't count."
"Are you saying that women who take part in the adult industry aren't worthy of
respect?" Brendon says. "They're totally real girls. Er. Women."
"Right, but you can't like, reach through the TV and touch them," Ryan finishes
triumphantly. "Ergo. Not real for us. Doesn't count."
"That would be awesome," Spencer says. "Also, who the fuck says 'ergo'?"
"Are you trying to psych me out?" Brendon says. "You are, aren't you." He grins
at Ryan. "Scared you're going to lose, huh?"
"I--what, no," Ryan says, frowning. He's--wait. Somehow this is starting to
backfire. "No, fuck you. I am not going to lose."
"Then what are you so afraid of?" Brendon says.
"I'm not afraid," Ryan says. "But seriously, how am I the only one who thinks
that all of us jerking off on your couch is a terrible fucking idea?"
"I don't have to jerk off," Spencer says, stretching out obnoxiously and then
crossing his arms behind his head. He's wearing an expression of satisfied
superiority. "I'm judging."
"Judging!?--" Ryan protests, just as Brendon frowns and says, "Oh yes you do."
"I have to remain impartial," Spencer says. "Otherwise I might get too
distracted." He looks entirely too pleased with himself. Ryan hates his best
friend.
"I knew there was a reason you gave in so easily," Ryan says, narrowing his
eyes at Spencer.
"We don't need an impartial judge," Brendon says, rolling his eyes. "I'm pretty
sure it's going to be obvious who's the winner."
"Yeah, because it's going to be me," Ryan says.
"I meant because one of us won't be covered in jizz," Brendon says.
-
"I'm going to get come all over my jeans," Ryan says plaintively. He's going
for a last ditch attempt at appealing to his band-mate's sanity. Just then, the
channel clicks in. Ryan's suddenly staring at a terrible mullet and a lady
wearing pastel eyeshadow. They seem very interested in each other.
"So take your pants off," Brendon says, unlacing his shoes. "Oh, man. I don't
think I've ever seen this one."
"I love Cinemax," Spencer agrees. "Just wait, I think they do it in the pool."
"Really?"
"If this is the one I'm thinking of," Spencer says.
"You never told me you got Cinemax at your house," Ryan says, affronted. "What
the fuck, dude."
"Only like once or twice," Spencer says. "It was a free preview weekend or
something. And then mom saw the cable bill and grounded me. Remember?"
"Oh," Ryan says. "Right." He does remember that, actually. Mostly he remembers
being really pissed that he couldn't come over, because he'd had a paper to
write and was trying to actually graduate from high school.
"I would totally have sex in a pool," Brendon says. He's kicking his socks off,
and then he stands up and wiggles out of his jeans. Ryan can't believe this is
actually his life right now.
"What are you doing?" Ryan says. "Are you. Please tell me you're not going to
get naked."
"Laundry is really expensive," Brendon says. He shrugs his shirt off, and sits
back down on the couch in just his underwear.
Ryan gives Brendon a challenging look. "I'm not taking my clothes off," Ryan
says.
"Suit yourself," Brendon shrugs. "Spence?"
"I hate doing laundry," Spencer says.
"Right on," Brendon says. He holds his fist out for a fist-bump, and Spencer
indulges him before tugging his t-shirt over his head. Spencer leaves his pants
on, though. Ryan's quietly grateful. It's not even like it's anything he hasn't
seen before, it's just. This is weird, and Ryan doesn't know what the rules
are, and he's not even sure there are any rules, which is freaking him out more
than it should.
"So, what," Ryan says, after a few beats of increasingly uncomfortable silence.
"We sit here and jack it to Mullet and Eyeshadow getting it on?"
"Do you have a better idea?" Brendon says. "I don't have any actual porn,
dude."
"We could watch an actual movie like normal people," Ryan says. "And you guys
could put your clothes back on."
"Seriously, what are you so freaked out about?" Brendon says.
"Nothing," Ryan says. He doesn't think about Spencer's bare shoulder touching
his, the way he can feel the heat from his skin every time he shifts. It's not
about the porn, not really. It's not even about the contest. It's that Ryan and
Spencer have a secret, and Ryan's clutching it to himself with both hands and
willing it not to get away. He doesn't know how Spencer can be so blase about
this, fuck. Ryan knows it's stupid, but he's terrified that Brendon's going to
look at them and know.
And then--Ryan has no idea. He doesn't know what happens after that.
"Man, my kingdom for a blowjob," Brendon sighs, looking at the screen. "I bet
that's awesome."
"Yup," Spencer says. Ryan nearly swallows his own tongue. Brendon's raising an
eyebrow at Spencer, curious.
"You've--wait," Brendon says. "What?"
"Oh," Spencer says, a beat too late. "No. I was just agreeing with you.
Probably awesome."
"...Right," Brendon says. "Yeah. Okay."
-
The problem with watching porn, even bad softcore porn, is that Ryan is 18. He
doesn't want to get hard--even if it means losing--but he can't really help it.
There's thrusting and grinding and moaning, and Ryan is only human. It doesn't
matter that there's a terrible soundtrack, and that the pool chair covers have
the same pattern as his grandmother's living room couch. It's that Ryan is
sitting on a couch with two semi-naked guys, one of whom is his best friend,
and one of whom he had really confusing sort-of-sex with less than a week ago.
His life would probably make more sense if they weren't one and the same.
Spencer shifts against his side. His hand is laying on his bare stomach, palm
spread. Ryan can hear the way his breathing is speeding up slightly. It's such
a little thing, but Ryan feels like every inch of his skin is on fire, because
all he can think about is hearing that sound directly in his ear, Spencer
panting into his skin. Ryan swallows hard and tries to focus. He's purposefully
not looking at either of them, but he can see Brendon glancing over at them
through the corner of his eye.
"Well," Brendon says. "Time to get this party started, I guess." Ryan whips his
head around, and watches as Brendon slides his hand into his boxers. He's
keeping his face almost blank, but Ryan can tell when his hand makes contact,
because Brendon lets out a tiny sigh. He looks back only to find Spencer
watching him. He's got a small smile on his face, wry and amused.
"You sure you don't want to...?" Spencer says, nodding his head at Ryan's
crotch. His hand creeps a little lower on his stomach.
"Um," Ryan says. He knows it's obvious that he's hard. It's not something he
can really hide all that well.
"Suit yourself," Spencer says. Ryan sort of wants to throttle him, but mostly
because he can't look away from Spencer's hand sliding into his boxers. Spencer
arches his back a little, sighing, and then he turns to Brendon and grins at
him and Brendon grins back and just---fuck. Ryan's band-mates are actually
trying to kill him.
"It's not really a contest if there's only two of us," Brendon says, eyeing
Ryan speculatively. He seems less sharp then he was earlier; his voice is
taking on a lazy sort of drawl, and Ryan can see a weird sort of gentle
kindness in his eyes, like he's actually concerned about why Ryan won't just
whip it out and go to town.
"I'm," Ryan fumbles. "Uh."
"He's deformed," Spencer puts in. His voice sounds a little breathier than
normal. "Childhood blender accident. Very nasty. Scarred for life."
"Oh, shut up," Ryan says. He smacks Spencer on the shoulder.
"One time," Brendon says. "Get this. One time, I heard this story about this
guy---"
"Is this going to be a horrible story about some dude's deformed penis?" Ryan
interjects. "Because if it, please shut up."
"Mmm," Spencer says. His arm is moving rhythmically now, and he's shifting his
hips ever so slightly into the movement. "Maybe not the best time, B."
"You guys are no fun," Brendon says.
"I'm having fun," Spencer says. Ryan bites back the urge to say, I know you
are. It's like everywhere he looks, there's a minefield. He can't look at the
TV. He can't look at Spencer, because then he just wants to lean in and kiss
him, to run his fingers up Spencer's arm and feel the muscles flex under his
fingers. He can't look at Brendon because he's becoming increasingly fascinated
with the way Brendon is so different like this, lazy and relaxed and heavy-
lidded. Ryan wants to push him down into the couch, to climb on top of him and
see if he can get Brendon to react. His skin's so pale, and Ryan knows it's
soft--maybe even softer than Spencer's--and Ryan wants to sink his teeth into
it and feel Brendon jerk underneath him. He wants--
"Ry?" Spencer says.
Ryan blinks. Spencer's really close, all of a sudden, his face barely inches
from his own. "You okay?" Spencer says, quietly. "You're breathing all funny."
"Nuh-uh," Ryan says weakly. "Am not." Spencer stares at him, concerned. He's
licking his lips, probably unconsciously. Ryan just can't fucking take it.
"Sorry," Ryan mumbles hurriedly, before he's leaning in and pressing his lips
into Spencer's. Spencer opens for him easily, and it's just like it was before,
only they're not under cover of darkness and Ryan's not half-asleep and he
doesn't have any excuses.
"Holy. Shit." Brendon says, from the other end of the couch. "Dude. Dudes."
Ryan ignores him. He's too busy trying to chase the taste of Spencer on his
tongue, too busy trying to balance kissing and breathing and not passing out on
Brendon's couch. He can feel the way Spencer's breath gets ragged on the
upstroke, the way he pauses for just a tiny second before sliding his hand down
his dick, letting Ryan take control before he's pushing back for more.
"Oh my god, me next," Brendon says, pushing closer. Ryan breaks away, confused.
He'd thought--he'd assumed Brendon would be freaking out, running away from
them and calling the whole thing off.
"What?" Ryan says. "You--what?"
"Spencer," Brendon says. "Spencer, make out with me. This is awesome."
Spencer frowns. "What if I don't want to?" He says. "You don't just get to tell
me to make out with you. I have choices."
"Make out with me and I'll suck your dick," Brendon says. He looks like he's
just won the lottery which is---yeah. Not quite what Ryan was expecting. "Come
on, this is on my list of life goals. You guys can't wimp out on me now."
"If you suck my dick, I'll lose the contest," Spencer says. "That's cheating."
"Oh," Brendon says. "Right. The contest."
"Spencer is on your list of life goals?" Ryan says.
"No, expanding my sexual horizons," Brendon says. "Spencerrrr." It's
practically a purr, Spencer's name formed all the way on the back of Brendon's
tongue. Spencer glances back at Ryan, and all Ryan can do is nod, ever so
slightly.
"You're ridiculous," Spencer says, but he's grinning a little. Ryan watches as
Spencer leans in, pushing his way into Brendon's space. Brendon's just as
eager, practically falling over Spencer's lap in an effort to get to his mouth.
They kiss slow and careful, testing, and then Brendon lets out a whine and
Spencer's sliding one hand into Brendon's hair, tugging him in so he can get a
better angle. Ryan hears himself make a tiny noise, as if from far away.
"Oh, hey," Brendon says, breaking away. His cheeks are flushed. "We can't leave
Ryan out. Ryan, take your pants off."
"You take my pants off," Ryan says, entirely without thinking, and then
Brendon's climbing onto his lap and tugging his hand out of his boxers so he
can have both hands free. Ryan's brain is stuck on the fact that Brendon's hand
was just on Brendon's dick, and now it's sliding across his stomach and tugging
at the fly on his jeans.
"Help me out, here," Brendon says, breathless and red-cheeked. "Your massive
dick is in the way."
"And the truth comes out," Ryan says weakly.
"In more ways than one," Spencer mutters. Brendon snickers a little. He tugs on
Ryan's jeans, ineffectually, and then Ryan raises his hips just as Brendon's
fingers catch on the top of his boxers. Ryan's not actually sure how it
happens, but all of a sudden he's bare-ass naked waist to knees and Brendon's
giving him an amazed look.
"Jesus Christ," Brendon says. "Dude. If my dick was that big I'd just be waving
that shit around everywhere I went."
"Some people have dignity," Ryan chokes out. He's so hard, and he doesn't know
what to do, and there's so much skin surrounding him. All he can smell is
Brendon, and Spencer, and Ryan wants everything all at once, all of it,
everything he's ever thought or read or fantasized about.
"Dignity is overrated," Spencer says. He's turned in towards Ryan, curling
around both of them and watching with dark eyes.
"You should probably touch yourself," Brendon says, before leaning in to kiss
him. Ryan lets out a whine when Brendon leans forward, because Brendon's
stomach is soft on his skin and then his mouth is on Ryan's, hot and wet and
complicated. Brendon doesn't kiss with any sort of rhythm; Ryan has no choice
but to just go with it, to let Brendon lead and try to keep up.
"You know, this isn't very fair," Spencer says, after a minute or two. "Ryan's
going to win. He started later." Ryan wants to point out that there's very
little chance of that happening, what with Brendon rubbing himself up against
Ryan's dick, but his mouth is otherwise occupied.
"Yeah," Brendon says, breaking away. "Way to ruin the contest, Ryan."
"It's not my fault you guys couldn't keep it in your pants," Ryan says weakly.
Brendon's hand is brushing up against Ryan's stomach as he slides it back into
his boxers and curls it around his dick. He lets out a tiny noise when he does
it, soft and unformed.
"Come on," Spencer says, nudging Ryan's arm with his elbow. "Get on with it."
He bites his lip a little, and suddenly the only thing Ryan wants is to see.
Spencer's hand is speeding up under his boxers, tugging them down with the
motion, and Ryan can't stop looking at Spencer's stomach, his broad chest. He
knows what that body, that skin, feels like against his own, but he hadn't
actually seen anything in the dark. Ryan's memories are fluttery things,
sensations of breath and movement and sweat on skin, and suddenly he wants
nothing more than the visual.
"You first," Ryan says, wrapping his hand lightly around his dick. It feels
amazing, and he's trying so hard not to buck up into his own fist, but he's
pretty sure this will work.
"I think he's got that covered," Brendon says, raising an eyebrow.
Ryan licks his lips nervously. "But we can't see it," Ryan says, and finally
gets up the courage to meet Spencer's eyes. He sees the minute it clicks in
Spencer's brain, and then he's grinning and kicking his boxers off. Ryan stares
unabashedly. His hand starts moving of its own volition, because Spencer is
long and pale and really fucking hot. His dick is thick and long and seriously,
he's almost giving Ryan a run for his money in that department.
"How am I the last one to get naked?" Brendon says, incredulously. His gaze is
darting back and forth between Ryan and Spencer, like he can't decide where to
look. Ryan reaches out and tugs on the side of Brendon's boxers, and then he's
standing up and shuffling out of them with an awkward two-step. Brendon kicks
them to the side, and then resettles himself on Ryan's lap, facing in.
"You guys should make out," Brendon says, and his tone is lazy but there's a
heat to his expression that makes Ryan tip his head back and close his eyes.
"I'm--dammit," Spencer says, his expression almost pained if it wasn't for his
red cheeks and flushed skin. "No, I'm. Shit, I can't, I'm really close." Ryan
watches as Brendon's eyes light up, and then before he can even process it
Brendon's leaning in for the kill, biting at Spencer's lips and pushing his way
into Spencer's mouth.
Ryan blinks, and then leans over to help out, because even with his brain this
fried he knows an opportunity when he sees one. He skims his lips over
Spencer's shoulder, his neck, and then he hears Spencer let out a whine. Ryan
pulls back just in time to see Spencer buck up into his fist, mouth open and
eyes closed. His whole body is pulled taut, and Brendon's panting as he watches
him, careful and fascinated from barely two inches away.
"Shit," Spencer says weakly, after he's come down. "I lost. That was so not
fucking fair."
"You're the one who showed your hand," Brendon says. His hand's moving slower
now, measured, like he's trying to hold back. "You never put all your cards on
the table, dude."
"Brendon's got a point," Ryan says. His own voice sounds foreign to his ears.
It's lower, rougher, and Ryan wonders if they can hear it too.
"You are a traitor," Spencer says, narrowing his eyes at Ryan. "You are so
going down."
"Am not," Ryan protests, and then Spencer's leaning in closer, sliding his hand
over the head of Ryan's dick, and it's slick and wet and Ryan's brain just sort
of checks out at the sensation.
"Fuck," Ryan whimpers, breathlessly. "Fucking. You. Not. Fair."
"Totally fair," Spencer says, still moving his hand. His hand that is covered
in come, that is wet and sticky and on Ryan's dick and oh god, Ryan isn't going
to last through this.
"Come on," Brendon murmurs, leaning back in to kiss Ryan, hard and demanding.
His hand is speeding up, even as he tries to hold himself back. "You know you
want to, Ryan."
"Fucking--you," Ryan moans. "Fuck you, asshole."
"That's not very polite," Spencer says, abruptly takes his hand away. Ryan's
left gasping and bucking up into the air, trying to breathe even as Brendon
isn't giving him an inch.
"Say please," Spencer says, and Ryan hates him, god, Ryan hates him so much.
Ryan pulls his mouth away just long enough to say "No," because he's trying to
hold on to some semblance of his pride and his dignity, and that's when Brendon
swipes his thumb across the tip of Ryan's dick and then shoves it in Ryan's
mouth. and Ryan opens his mouth without thinking, curling his tongue around
Brendon's thumb. It's sharp and bitter on his tongue. Brendon leans back in,
licking at Ryan's lips until Ryan opens for him again and then he's sucking on
Ryan's tongue, chasing the taste of Spencer from Ryan's mouth and that's it,
Ryan's pretty sure his life is over and he's going to die of the most epic
orgasm known to man.
"Please," Ryan moans, all pretense gone, and Spencer circles his fingers around
Ryan's dick just as he leans in to suck on the sharp jut of Ryan's collarbone.
Brendon's whimpering into Ryan's mouth, and it's all Ryan can do to ride out
the sensation, building and building until there's that snap, that sudden
tense-and-release and then a cresting, pin-prick moment of awesome. He jerks
up, into Spencer's fist, and just as he feels the first rush of liquid on his
stomach he feels Brendon go tense on top of him, stock-still, and then sort of-
-curling in, making an 'unnnnhhhh' noise that's equal parts stupid and hot.
Ryan comes, and he comes, and he comes, and when he finally looks down he
realizes why it feels like he's stickier than he's ever been in his life.
"You came on me," Ryan says, dumbly. His mouth isn't quite working right, so
the words come out jumbled and slurred. "You came, like. All over me."
"Dammit," Brendon slurs, equally wrecked. "Now we'll never know who won the
contest. Fuck."
"Contest?" Ryan says, his brain still stupid and slow. Spencer is warm next to
him, and Brendon is a heavy weight on his chest. "What contest?"
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