Posted originally on the Archive_of_Our_Own at https://archiveofourown.org/
works/572358.
  Rating:
      Explicit
  Archive Warning:
      Underage
  Category:
      M/M
  Fandom:
      Bandom, The_Young_Veins
  Relationship:
      Ryan_Ross/Ryan_Ross, Ryan_Ross/Brendon_Urie, Ryan_Ross/Jon_Walker, Ryan
      Ross/Pete_Wentz
  Character:
      Ryan_Ross, Jon_Walker
  Additional Tags:
      Time_Travel, Rimming, First_Time, AU
  Stats:
      Published: 2009-08-30 Words: 3697
****** I'm All You Want And More ******
by meiloslyther
Summary
     Ryan meets his past self, who's a little too curious for his own
     good.
Notes
     Written while on my trip to Wisconsin. My obligatory timetravel/
     selfcest fic. Jeez, what is it with me and making Ryan seem like such
     a slut? Oh wait...
I didn't know why I was even in Vegas, let alone why I was hanging around
outside the old practice space. At night. It had been years since I'd been
here; I didn't even know where the key was anymore, but the locks had probably
been changed since then anyway. It wasn't like I wanted to go in though, I just
wanted to look. I just wanted to see it again, make sure it was still there.
Why? I still wasn't sure.
I was just about to walk back to my car when I noticed a young boy next to the
door of the building in front of me, probably not even old enough to smoke yet,
looking rather lost and confused. Through the dark I could make out his bright
yellow Modest Mouse t-shirt and his tight girl jeans, but not his face, which
was partially hidden by his hair anyway. He reminded me of myself as a kid and,
in fact, I had actually owned that same shirt at one point.
He finally spotted me after looking around for a second and stared. That's when
I noticed his eyes. They were hard to make out in the faint moonlight, but they
were oddly familiar. Recognition crossed his face suddenly and he simply gave
me an awed look.
Great, a fan.
"Ryan Ross?" he asked, his monotone almost hiding the inflection to make my
name a question. Weird, his voice was eerily familiar as well.
"Yeah," I replied, shoving my hands in my pockets as he slowly, cautiously
approached me. I was standing there thinking, god I hope he has something to
write with if he wants a fucking autograph, when I realized how he was looking
at me; wary, scared. The poor kid was absolutely terrified.
"What are you doing here?" His voice was steady and brave, a definite
opposition to the look on his face.
"I was just, ah... my band used to practice here. When we were kids, you know.
I didn't mean to freak you out, I didn't even know people still used this
place."
"What is today?" he inquired, stopping two feet in front of me. Now that he was
close enough I could see he had his ears gauged. He was almost my height, maybe
an inch or so shorter, and christ, he's as skinny as me if not more so.
"It's Wednesday."
"I meant, like, the date."
"Oh, the uh. The fifth."
"Of?" God, he asked a lot of questions.
"August. Are you high or something? 'Cause you're asking a lot of questions."
"No, no, I don't do drugs. At least... just, what year is it?"
I sighed. This kid was kind of giving me the creeps. "2009."
He clapped a long, slender hand over his mouth and took a step back. "Shit," he
muttered against his hand, eyes wide. "Shitshitshit."
This kid had to be on something. "Kid, are you sure you're alright?"
He moved his hand away from his mouth and laughed a little hysterically. "You
don't even recognize me, do you?"
"Well, it is kind of dark so I can't really see-"
Suddenly, he was right in my face, close enough that I could see individual
eyelashes. I took in his features and what I had already noticed about him and
holy shit, this kid is me.
I clapped a hand over my own mouth with the realization, stumbling backwards,
and vaguely thought I should have recognized his shocked reaction as my own.
"You... you're me. Oh shit."
"Yeah, oh shit is right. I'm you at seventeen and now I'm stuck here in the
future with my twenty-two year old self. How the fuck do you think I feel?"
I couldn't stop staring at him. At me. "Holy fuck. How in the hell?"
"I don't know! One minute it's 2004 and I'm in the practice space, the next I'm
walking out and it's 2009. What am I supposed to do? I don't have any place to
stay, my key doesn't work in the lock anymore."
Figures. I thought for a second before moving my hand, calming down a little.
"Okay. Okay, I'll call Jon. Jon will know what to do."
"Who the fuck is Jon?"
"He's..." I stopped, pulling my iPhone out of my pocket. "It's a long story.
He's a friend of mine."
My younger self nodded, a silent okay, and I hit the speed dial button for Jon.
Normally I would have just texted him, but this was too important. As I waited
for Jon to pick up, I watched the other Ryan eye me. Studying. Calculating.
"Hey, Ry, what's up? You don't usually call me."
"Jon, are you sitting down? This is gonna sound really crazy."
I could hear him moving around a little. "Yeah, okay."
"Umm, so I was here at the old practice space, right? And uh... now my past
self is in the future. Like, right now."
Jon was silent for a second as my younger self gazed at me expectantly.
"You're serious."
"Serious as a heart attack."
Younger Ryan's lips curled a little at that.
Jon sighed on the other end of the phone. "Okay, um. You're coming back home
tomorrow, right? Staying at a hotel tonight?"
"Yeah. Should I just...? He doesn't have a place to stay."
I could just hear him thinking. "Yeah, take him to your hotel and bring him
home tomorrow. We'll take care of him and figure this out."
"All right. I... I'll see you tomorrow."
"You too, man."
I hung up the phone and looked back at my doppelgänger. He had his head down,
hair falling in his face, and was gripping his upper arm with a bony hand.
I tipped his chin up so that he was looking at me with those big caramel eyes -
my eyes. "You're staying with me and no, it's not a big deal, okay? We're gonna
figure this out."
He nodded again, looking away. I knew the look on his face too well to not wrap
my arms around him, pulling him into a hug. He clutched at my shoulders,
burying his face in my neck.
I laughed a little, ruffling what I knew was his perfectly straightened and
styled hair. "You're welcome, kid." He squeezed a little harder before stepping
back.
I led him to my car, and as soon as he realized that the silver Mercedes-Benz
C55 was mine, he stopped dead in his tracks, staring over at me.
"That... that's mine?"
I nodded, pressing the unlock button on my keys.
"So the band does make it."
It wasn't a question, that much I knew. I grinned a little, knowing exactly how
I would have reacted back then if I had known for sure the band would have made
it.
"Wow," was all he could say as we got in and I drove us back to the hotel where
I was staying.
"So, if the band makes it... where are the guys?"
I cringed. We were sitting on the armchairs in my hotel room, checking out the
view from the window as we waited for an appropriate time to go to sleep.
"Well, um. We kicked Brent out pretty early on. Jon was his replacement."
He blinked at me. "Oh. What about Spence? Brendon?"
I bit my lip. Telling him about the split would kill him.
"They're still in the band, right?"
"Yeah. Yeah, they're still in Panic." I'm not, I didn't say.
That answer seemed to satisfy him. "So you're obviously not living in Vegas
anymore if we're in a hotel." Now that was a question. It was so scary how
easily I could read him. Myself.
"Yeah, we live in LA now."
He sat back against the chair at that, a soft "wow" escaping his lips.
I stood up then, stretching through a yawn. "Well, um. Hopefully you're okay
with sharing the bed. I wasn't expecting company."
"We're practically the same person. 'S not like it matters."
I nodded as I walked over to the bed and toed off my shoes, beginning to
unbutton my shirt. "Yeah. Right."
He moved over to the opposite side of the bed, peeling off his shirt and
chucking it across the room. I purposely avoided looking at him as I shrugged
off my own shirt, finally revealing my arms and wrists.
"I have tattoos?" he asked quietly, smirking a little as our identical bony
hands went for our belts simultaneously.
Yeah, wanna touch 'em? I didn't say, removing my pants and crawling under the
covers. Why did I make myself feel like such a creeper?
He was still smirking as he shimmied out of his tight jeans and oh fuck. I
totally forgot about my commando phase. He crawled in on his side, curling up
close enough that I could feel his body heat, but far enough away that he
wasn't touching me.
"Goodnight, Ryan," he muttered sweetly, snuggling into the pillow and pulling
the covers up over his head the way I used to.
I was mentally shooting myself in the head as I fell asleep.
***
The thing was, since I found out what my dick was even for, I had a thing for
jerking off in a mirror. I loved to stare into my own eyes as I came, pretend I
had an extra me to suck me off. I had sexual fantasies of clones and shit like
that, but it wasn't like an obsession. It was just what happened to get me off
better than anything else.
Now that I finally did have my own little clone, it was hard to keep telling
myself he's only seventeen when my dick was telling me he's legal in Nevada.
"You're thinking too loud," he muttered from under the covers as I lay there
next to him in bed. It was was too early to be awake yet, but I couldn't go
back to sleep either.
"I'm sorry, princess, did I wake you?"
He peeked out from under the sheets, giving me a surprised look. "Wow, I am a
prick," he muttered thoughtfully before his head fell back to the pillow,
curling up against my side.
"Glad you figured it out now."
He raised his head again. "Hey, I've got an idea. How about you tell me stuff?
Like, who do I have sex with first?"
I quirked an eyebrow at him. "First time ever? Some chick named Jac."
"You say that like I have a different kind of first time somewhere else."
I covered my face with my hand. I did not want to be talking about this with my
younger self, especially when he was laying in my bed naked. "There's a certain
point where you finally realize you don't care if people know you like cock, if
that helps."
"Really? Who is it?"
I moved my hand and looked up into his expectant face.
"There is no way I am telling you that."
"Aww, c'mon. Is it Brendon? Pete Wentz?"
I snorted out a laugh. "You seriously think Pete would fuck you?"
"So I do have sex with Brendon?"
I rolled my eyes. "Okay, fine. If you must know... Yes, you have sex with
Brendon, Pete only lets you give him head like, once, but neither one of them
is your first guy."
He grinned mischievously, hissing out an almost silent "yes". "So, who is my
first guy then? You can tell me, come on."
"No."
He placed one hand on my chest and leaned in to my ear. "Do you not want to
tell me because you want to be your own first? Was it that bad?"
I shuddered at him practically reading my thoughts. Well, they were his
thoughts too, so I couldn't really blame him. "No, it wasn't bad. It would just
make things awkward is all."
He looked at me for a second before straddling me, both hands on my chest and
oh fuck, he's hard and he's sitting on my cock. He leaned down to press a kiss
to my jaw.
"I don't think you want to do this," I whispered, and it didn't sound as much
of a warning as I had wanted it to be.
"Oh, I think I do," he replied, pressing his lips to mine in a soft kiss. "Fuck
me, Ryan."
I opened my mouth to protest for his sake, tell him all the bad things that
could and would happen, how much it would hurt, but he pressed a finger to my
lips before I could get it out.
"I know." He crawled backwards then, taking the covers with him. He hooked his
fingers in the waistband of my boxers and tugged them off, flinging them over
his shoulder.
"Are you sure about this?"
He looked up at me from between my legs, his hot breath ghosting over my half-
hard cock. "What better way to learn than by myself?" he answered, licking a
stripe up the underside of my cock, making me groan out. He crawled back up to
kiss me again, sliding his hands along my sides. "Now stop trying to talk me
out of it and fuck me."
Before the words were completely out of his mouth, I grabbed his shoulders and
flipped him over onto his back, knocking the wind out of him. Backing down the
bed, I spread his legs as far as I knew they would go.
"What are you doing?" he breathed, craning his neck to look down at me.
"You love this, trust me," I replied, dragging my tongue across his entrance.
He gasped brokenly before letting it back out in a breathy whine, his toes
digging into the mattress, fingers clutching at the sheets. He bucked back
against my tongue so I let it slip just inside.
"Oh, fuck."
I had him panting already just from fucking him with my tongue, so I quickly
slicked a few fingers with spit and pushed one in while continuing to lick
around his hole. A low groan rumbled in his chest, followed by a few
unintelligible curses.
"Do you like that, Ryan?" I whispered, lifting my head to look up at him,
grinning slightly.
He glared at me. "F-fuck you," he stuttered, but pushed back against my finger
anyway.
"Do you want more?"
He lightly kicked me in the shoulder. "Stop teasing me, fucker."
"Suit yourself," I shrugged, forcing two more fingers in at once.
He cried out, half in pain, half in pleasure, squirming against my hand. I
dipped my head back down to lick around my fingers and in between them, making
him groan rather loudly.
When I brushed my pinky against where he was stretched around my other three
fingers, he whispered, "Do it." I pushed my fourth finger in and he made a
sound halfway between a whine and a moan, his back arching slightly off the
bed. I froze.
He made a frustrated noise, trying buck against my hand, but I held him still.
"Why the fuck did you stop?"
"I know what I sound like when I'm close."
He blushed as I pulled my fingers out, whining in protest.
"Don't be embarrassed; I actually did come just like that at first." I smiled
down at him softly, slicking my cock with saliva.
He licked his bottom lip nervously. "Did your first time hurt a lot?" he asked,
watching me as I lined myself up.
I looked down into his eyes; he was scared out of his mind about this, but the
want was there. Just like my first time.
"It will have now."
He took a deep breath and set his jaw, nodding for me to go ahead. I placed a
hand on his stomach and carefully guided myself in, feeling his stomach clench
under my hand as I pushed through the tight ring of muscle. He was completely
silent as I buried myself in him, only whimpering a little when I bottomed out.
"God, now I know what they meant when they said I was tight."
He glared at me. "I'm not sure if I should say 'thank you' or 'fuck you'."
I chuckled quietly. "You're already fucking yourself, Ryan," I muttered
sarcastically, pulling out a little before thrusting back in, making him throw
his head back and gasp. Smiling to myself, quite literally, I pulled his legs
up over my shoulders. I had never been as bendy as Brendon, but I knew I had
been reasonably flexible as a kid.
I set a fairly slow rhythm, and he locked his ankles behind my back, his hands
coming up to tug me down by my hair for a leisurely kiss. Touring life had
taught me to be almost silent, but my younger self still let out soft grunts
with each thrust, his familiar tongue dancing around my own.
He shifted his hips slightly, and I immediately recognized the reflex he hadn't
learned to control yet; he wanted more, so much more. Planting my hands more
firmly on the mattress, I moved a little faster, causing him to groan, his nose
pressed to my cheek.
"Oh, god...," he whimpered, but I could hear the fuck, you know me too well
that went with it.
"You better fucking bet I know you too well," I muttered in his ear, grinning
when his hips bucked harder at my voice. "I know how much you love to hear your
own voice. How much you love to hear your name, Ryan."
He moaned quietly, pressing back against my thrusts. I knew he wanted more, but
I wanted to tease him a little like I did sometimes when I was alone. I hadn't
learned how much better being patient made orgasms until about the third or
fourth tour. My younger self definitely wouldn't grasp the concept right away,
I knew.
"Faster, come on."
I just grinned into his neck, listening intently as his grunts became more and
more frustrated.
"Get with the program, asshole. I thought you knew me," he growled, yanking
sharply at my hair.
I picked myself up a little, smiling wickedly down at his half angry face. "Oh,
I do."
Pulling out of him, I flipped him over onto his stomach, forcing him up on his
hands and knees before sinking back in. I grabbed hold of his hair with one
hand and tugged his head back so far that his spine arched.
"I know I always liked it better from behind."
He cried out loudly, sounding every bit like the little whore I was when I was
younger. I felt a sense of pride in being able to take my virginity from
myself, in being able to watch myself come apart under my own hands without
actually coming apart myself. It was probably a sick thing to be proud of, but
I reveled in it, could feel the heat pooling low in my stomach from it,
spreading to the base of my spine and upwards.
He made that half whine, half moan noise again, so I quickly wrapped my hand
tightly around the base of his cock, the familiar size and weight almost scary.
"You're such a fucking prick," he snarled, meeting my thrusts with equal force.
"If you want to be me, you have to learn to build up some fucking stamina,
kid," I threw back, biting down on his shoulder blade.
His desperate groans and my heavy panting filled the silence that followed, the
slap of skin on skin the ideal back beat, our pulses throbbing in perfect
synchronization. I let go of his hair and cock to hold his hips with both hands
and he let his head drop between his shoulders, but he kept his back arched. I
gently nudged at the middle of his upper back as I pressed a kiss there, and he
got the idea to drop down to his chest, hands clenched in the sheets just below
his shoulders.
"Come on, Ryan."
I wasn't even sure who said it, but it made us both make that whiny moan before
we were both coming at the same time, our heavy breathing the only sound as his
muscles clenched around my twitching cock.
We collapsed just like that, my softening cock still buried in his ass, not
even bothering to clean up, and passed the fuck out.
***
I woke later lying on my back in an empty bed. I blinked around at the room for
a minute before realizing I wasn't in a hotel, but back home. Shaking my head a
little, I grabbed for my phone, checking the date and time; August 6, 2009. 8:
15 AM. Thoroughly confused, I checked the call log on my phone, only to realize
I hadn't called Jon at all the night before.
Falling out of bed and stumbling into a pair of boxers, I made my way into the
kitchen where a half naked Jon was standing at the counter making coffee. He
heard me coming and turned, fitting his arms around my waist.
"Did you sleep alright? You were tossing and turning all night, babe."
Now I was really confused because since when did Jon call me babe? An even
better question was since when did Jon and I sleep in the same bed? However,
bringing my arms up to wrap around his shoulders felt so right.
"Yeah, I guess. But I had the weirdest dream."
He kissed my jaw that he could reach. "What happened?"
"My younger self came forward in time and we ended up in some hotel in Vegas
fucking each other."
Jon chuckled a little, nuzzling into my neck. "Another dream where you somehow
end up fucking some other version of yourself? You've been having those all
week."
"I have?"
"Yeah," he replied, his hands trailing down to the waistband of my boxers,
fingertips just barely dipping under it. "I'm starting to think I should move
the bathroom mirror into the bedroom so you can look at yourself when we have
sex. You narcissistic little bastard," he muttered affectionately, his hands
finally moving all the way into my boxers to cup my ass.
I smiled into his hair, muffling a laugh. "Maybe you should."
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