Posted originally on the Archive_of_Our_Own at https://archiveofourown.org/
works/572198.
  Rating:
      Explicit
  Archive Warning:
      No_Archive_Warnings_Apply, Underage
  Category:
      M/M
  Fandom:
      Bandom, Panic!_at_the_Disco, The_Young_Veins
  Relationship:
      Ryan_Ross/Brendon_Urie
  Character:
      Ryan_Ross, Brendon_Urie
  Additional Tags:
      Angst, AU, blowjob, Dry_Humping, First_Time, Fluff, handjob
  Stats:
      Published: 2009-10-14 Words: 11531
****** It's Only A Crime If I Get Caught ******
by meiloslyther
Summary
     Ryan is sent to the Urie household for behavior adjustment and scares
     the living crap out of Brendon. That is, until Brendon realizes
     Ryan's not as bad as he first thought. Brendon is 17, thus the
     underage tag.
Ryan Ross was a bad kid, one of those rebel without a cause types who disliked
rules and authority. He smoked and went to parties with all the scene kids who
drank and did drugs. He wore mostly black and had sex with girls and guys he
probably didn't even know the names of, but he wasn't the obvious kind of
rebel. No, Ryan Ross was the quiet type, the kind of kid who could make you cry
with only a look, the guy you avoided in school because of all the rumors that
surrounded him.
This was the kind of reputation that preceded him everywhere, the reputation we
had been given by his own father, even. See, Ryan was coming to live with my
family, in my house, for a week. It was some kind of disciplinary program to
retrain unruly kids by sending them to so-called 'strict parents.' Not that my
parents were strict. They were loving and caring, and okay, maybe a little
overly religious, but that didn't make them strict.
Already knowledgeable of his bad character, as soon as I saw him stepping
through my front door my heart almost stopped at the sight of him, but the
feeling that overcame me was something much more than fear. His hair, the color
of raw umber, hung in his face but it was cropped short around his ears and in
the back. He was wearing an oversized black hoodie with the white outline of a
gun on the front and some of the tightest girl jeans I had ever seen in my
life. An overstuffed black hiking backpack hung off of his right shoulder, a
large hand curled around the strap.
"And this is our youngest son, Brendon," my mother announced, she and my father
following him through the door.
Flipping his hair out of his eyes, he put on a small and probably fake smile,
letting go of the backpack strap and offering his hand. "Ryan," he muttered,
his lips turning up farther into a true smirk as I cautiously shook his hand.
His hand was slender and bony, and his fingers were a lot longer than mine. He
was taller than me by only an inch or so, but he seemed to loom over me for
miles when he grinned like that, his eyes dark and glinting mischievously. His
teeth were impossibly white, and I suddenly felt self-conscious about my own,
stained yellow from coffee and the cigarettes my parents didn't know I smoked.
I made a mental note to avoid contact with Ryan Ross as much as humanly
possible that week.
My parents dragged him off then on a tour of the house, probably lecturing him
on all the rules in the meantime. Just before he rounded a corner, however, he
looked back over his shoulder at me, that smirk still in place, and winked.
My stomach lurched painfully and I retreated into the back yard to think.
It felt strange to have Ryan around, even though he'd only been there a few
minutes. Not in that there's-a-stranger-going-to-live-in-my-house kind of
thing, but something else, and I wasn't quite sure what it was. It was
something I had never felt before, an awkward combination of adrenaline and
nausea, my heart pounding as if in fear, my head feeling light and dizzy.
I must have lost track of time, for it was dark when my mother came out to call
me for dinner. My father and Ryan were already seated at the table, and when my
mother approached her chair, my father stood up but Ryan didn't.
My father cleared his throat. "Son, you stand up when a lady takes her seat."
"What for?" Ryan asked, his voice a low monotone, slow and even, as if each
syllable was carefully calculated.
"It's called being polite," I muttered, glaring at the floor.
I could feel Ryan's eyes on me before he slowly rose from his chair. My mother
took her seat then, and the rest of us followed. My father cast a pointed look
at Ryan before saying grace, my mother and I following it with an 'Amen.'
Dinner was a quiet affair as usual, and it gave me the opportunity to observe
Ryan a little more as I was seated across the table from him. His earlobes were
gauged fairly large, to 0 or 00 at least, and his nose was shaped sort of
strange, not that I really had any room to talk. He had removed his hoodie at
some point, probably at the request of my parents, and he was wearing a bright
pink Fall Out Boy t-shirt that clung to his chest. His eyes, normally hidden by
his hair except when he brushed it away from his face every few minutes, were a
soft caramel that complimented his hair.
Ryan finally noticed me watching him, only his eyes ticking up to my face. The
corner of his mouth curled up in a crooked grin, and I felt my heart leap once
again.
When I went to bed that night, Ryan in the spare bedroom just next door, I
couldn't help but think what a terrible, terrible week it would be. It hadn't
even been one whole day and this kid was already getting under my skin.
***
The next day was Tuesday and I was supposed to do the yard work, so my parents
recruited Ryan to help me out before they left for work, leaving me in charge
of him. We were supposed to be raking the small amount of leaves before mowing
the lawn and trimming the trees and bushes, but Ryan was refusing to listen to
me.
"My parents are gonna be really mad at you if you don't help out, Ryan."
"I don't feel like working," he replied airily, picking at his fingernails.
"It's not about what you feel like doing, it's about what you have to do. Mom
says we have to rake the leaves, so come on, let's get to it."
He glared up at me and snorted cynically. "Well, fuck that."
"Don't talk like that!" I whispered, eyes going wide. "You'll go to Hell."
"You really believe all that shit your parents feed you? All that bullshit
about God and Jesus and whatever the fuck else? Hell doesn't exist, Brendon.
It's all in your head." He said all this with his head down again, eyes focused
on his too long fingernails.
I fumbled for a second. "You're just jealous 'cause I'm saved and you aren't."
He looked up at me then, a small smirk on his lips. I hoped he couldn't tell
that I was just parroting what my parents had drilled into my head since I
could remember, not to mention that I was shaking a little bit. "Saved? Saved
my ass, Brendon," he whispered, stepping closer to me. "You don't even believe
in that shit anymore, I can see it in your face."
This kid was really starting to get on my nerves. "You don't know what I
believe, douche nozzle."
"Tsk tsk, what would your mother say if she heard you with such a mouth?" he
chided mockingly, bringing one of those slender fingers up to trace my bottom
lip.
That was it. "You know what, Ryan? Just... f-forget you!" I yelled, shoving
him.
He stumbled a little, caught off guard for a second, before grabbing the front
of my shirt and slamming me into the side of the house, the rough brick
scraping my back through the fabric of my shirt. He pinned me to the wall with
his body, his face barely an inch from my own.
"Forget me, huh?"
His breath was warm against my face and his soft eyes had gone cold and dark,
framed perfectly by his hair. He had one leg wedged between mine to keep me
from moving, his large hands gripping my upper arms to keep me from hitting
him. I felt my cock twitch at the pressure of his thigh, but I ignored it.
"Is that all you've got, Urie? Is that the best insult you can come up with?"
A small grin was forming at the corners of his mouth, his eyes crinkling a
little. He shifted his hold on me slightly, his thigh pressing a little harder
between my legs. I froze, horrified to realize I was slowly hardening.
"Or are you afraid mommy and daddy will spank you if you say something mean and
nasty?" he continued in a low growl, his thigh shifting again and this time my
cock responded with an aching throb, suddenly very hard.
I gasped. He grinned.
I shoved him away and, as fast as I could, retreated inside to my room. I knew
without even looking in a mirror that my face was bright red, and I knew
without having to hear or see it that Ryan was laughing at me. I had been
taught that it was a sin to touch myself, so I waited until I calmed down
before going back outside to do the yard work, ignoring Ryan who still refused
to help me.
I didn't speak to him the rest of the day.
***
After several lectures the previous day, Ryan was actually helping me wash the
dishes in the kitchen Wednesday morning after breakfast. My mother smiled
warmly at us before following my father out the door on their way to work. That
day we were supposed to get the laundry done, and then we had some free time to
just hang out.
"Ever had a girlfriend, Brendon?" Ryan asked a few minutes after my parents
left, drying the dishes as I washed them.
I didn't want to talk to him for obvious reasons, but I had been taught to be
polite, whether I liked it or not. "Of course," I lied, keeping my head down.
"I mean, what seventeen year old boy hasn't?"
I could feel his eyes on me, but I didn't meet them. "I think you're lying," he
replied, but it didn't sound sarcastic or malicious. His voice was soft and
quite possibly even sympathetic.
I was silent.
"I don't think you even like girls."
I turned on him then. "You don't know that."
"I don't," he agreed, smiling. "But I can guess. And seeing how you're getting
all defensive about it, I think I'm right."
I shut up then, going back to washing dishes with renewed vigor.
"So, do you like boys, Brendon?" he inquired quietly after a minute.
"It's against my religion," I recited, internally wincing at how unconvincing I
sounded even to myself.
He dropped the plate he was drying on the counter and I glared at him. "First
off, I know you don't believe that shit. Secondly, that doesn't even answer my
question."
"Buzz off, it's none of your business anyway, Ryan."
"I think you do like boys," he continued, taking a step towards me. I backed
away quickly, but he just kept getting into my space until I was backed into
the corner of the counter.
"Get away from me," I growled, despite being afraid of him.
"Why do you hate me?" he whispered then, bringing a hand up to my cheek.
I flinched away from his hand and sighed through my nose. "I don't hate you.
You just freak me out a little."
"Really? How so?" he pressed, tipping my chin back up to look at him.
"You just... make me really nervous. I don't know."
Ryan's face was so close, I could see where dark stubble was attempting to grow
in on his upper lip, the striations in his irises. His hand was cupping my jaw,
the pad of his thumb resting on my cheekbone.
"Have you ever been kissed, Brendon?"
My stomach dropped through the floor and my heart leapt into my throat. I
couldn't breathe, couldn't speak, so I merely shook my head.
"Do you want me to kiss you?" Ryan breathed, leaning in impossibly close.
My brain was yelling, 'It's against my religion, I'm not allowed to like boys,
I'm not allowed to do things with boys; I'm not even allowed to do things with
girls, but with boys the punishment is much, much worse,' but something else
was subtly whispering, 'Yes, yes, kiss me, I want it, I need it.' I wanted to
listen to my brain, it was right after all, but the smaller voice was
persuasive, gentle, commanding. The voice was desperate and pleading, and it
was hard to ignore.
Ryan was patiently waiting for my answer, thumb brushing across my cheek, his
eyes dark but kind. He was dangerously close, but he was keeping his distance
until I said yes or no.
I swallowed, my heart pounding in the bottom of my throat, and closed my eyes,
nodding slightly. My brain was screaming in protest, but I had to be honest
with Ryan, honest with myself. Lying would have been much worse for me than a
small kiss from Ryan, I decided.
"Are you sure?"
I only hesitated for a second, mentally justifying myself with my 'lying is
worse than kissing' theory one last time. "Yes."
"Look at me."
I opened my eyes again to see his large caramel ones staring back at me and the
hand that wasn't on my face curved around my waist. Closing the mere
centimeters between us, he pressed his lips to mine and I inhaled sharply
through my nose, my heart fluttering wildly.
My fingers itched to touch, to hold, but I kept them curled tightly around the
edge of the counter. It was hard to resist; my lips tingled where his mouth
pressed against my own. I sighed as his fingers tangled in my hair and he made
a small noise in the back of his throat. I was thoroughly enjoying it, but when
his tongue flicked over my bottom lip, I jerked away in surprise.
He was smirking when I opened my eyes again. It was then that I realized I was
hard, and he must have noticed it too. The hand against my lower back pulled my
waist, my hips, my crotch until they were pressed tight against his. It was too
much.
"You like this, Brendon?" he asked on a shaky breath, a wide and mischievous
grin splitting his face.
"Get the fuck away from me!" I yelled, shoving him back hard. As soon as I was
free, I ran to my room, slamming the door behind me.
Falling onto my bed, I reached for a pillow and pressed it firmly against my
crotch. Justifying my actions with the fact that I wasn't technically touching
myself, I desperately rutted up against it, imagining Ryan's lips on mine until
I came, biting down on my bottom lip to stay quiet. Afterwards, I got up and
quickly changed my underwear before crawling back into my bed.
As much as I didn't want them there, thoughts of Ryan filled my brain until
there were no other thoughts at all. As much as I knew it was wrong, I wanted
nothing more than to go back to Ryan and let him kiss me forever. As much as I
didn't want to admit it, I had liked it, and I liked Ryan. A lot.
As much as I wanted to, I couldn't hate myself for it because Ryan had been
right this whole time. My frustration led to tears, and I let them fall until I
drifted off to sleep.
***
"Brendon? Hey, wake up."
I startled awake at Ryan's voice and his hand on my arm, and he slowly pulled
away.
"Your mom's calling us for dinner."
I glared at him, but there was no heat behind it. "Get out of my room. I'm not
hungry."
"You haven't eaten all day."
"I'm not hungry," I repeated, curling up under the covers, still fully clothed.
I heard him sigh. "Look, I'm sorry about earlier, okay?"
"No, you're not."
"I'm trying to apologize to you, asshole."
I huffed at him. "I don't need you to apologize to me."
"Stop being a douche and listen to me, alright? I shouldn't have pushed you
that far if you didn't want to go there. I'm sorry, so stop being all emo about
it and come eat."
Sitting up, I really did glare at him. "What makes you think I didn't want to
go there?" I blurted before I could stop myself. I clapped a hand over my mouth
then, squeezing my eyes shut and waiting for the knowing laugh, the
triumphantly sarcastic voice, but it didn't come. Instead, I felt a hand close
softly over my wrist and I opened one eye to see Ryan looking at me with an
expression of quiet empathy.
"Then why did you run?"
I opened my other eye and allowed him to pull my hand away from my mouth. He
sat next to me on my bed and draped an arm around my shoulder.
"No, wait, don't tell me. You're afraid you'll go to hell if you give in,
right?"
I turned my head to look at him, but he wasn't smiling like I thought he would
be. I sighed. "Actually... you were right. I don't believe in all that stuff.
I'm really just afraid of my parents."
He cupped my cheek with a slender hand and gave me a lopsided smile. "It's
okay. Everything's okay."
I smiled back and wrapped my arms around his chest, hugging him tightly. He
threaded his fingers into my hair and hugged back as I nuzzled against his
neck.
"Hey. Hey, Brendon."
I pulled away reluctantly.
"Let's go eat before your mother comes and kills us."
We grinned at each other before taking off into the dining room.
***
Dear Ryan,
I know I haven't been the greatest father figure lately, but I'm trying. It's
been just as hard for me as it has been for you since your mother left us; I've
had to raise you by myself, provide for you by myself, and it's taken a toll on
both of us.
But you have to stop treating me like it's all my fault. As I've said, I've
made some poor choices since your mother left, but that's not an excuse for you
to follow in my footsteps. I hate seeing my son come in at all hours of the
night, drunk or high off his ass, with a different boy or girl than the night
before who's just as gone, and go into his room to do only God knows what. I
hate seeing my son get into fights at school, and slack off on his schoolwork,
and generally just be in a terrible state of mind.
I'm not blaming anyone for the way things have gone, so please don't think I'm
outright putting it all on you; it's been a little bit of everyone. It's just
that I don't want you to go down the same dismal path I have and end up
regretting everything when you're older, because I know you will. I know I do.
I went to my first AA meeting this week, and I really think it's going to help
me go straight for once. I hope you can be proud of me as a dad, and I hope I
can be proud of you as a son when you come back home.
Love,
Dad
***
On Thursday morning, my father passed Ryan a small envelope over breakfast, a
letter I presumed. I knew it had to have been from his dad, but I never
suspected that reading it would almost make him cry and actually ask politely,
"May I be excused?" before taking off into his room.
I followed him once I was finished eating and knocked softly on his closed
door.
"What?" I heard him call from inside, his voice cracking on the single
syllable.
"Ryan, it's me."
I heard shuffling as if he was getting out from under the covers on his bed
before the door opened. He was hiding behind the door, so I stepped inside and
let him close it behind me. He hid his face as he went back to sit on the bed,
his hands clasped tightly together, and I cautiously joined him.
"Are you gonna be okay?" I asked quietly, prying his hands apart and taking one
between both of mine.
He didn't fight me, didn't even move. "Sure."
"Are you?"
He looked over at me and I could finally see the glistening tear tracks down
his cheeks, his red and puffy eyes, the tears he was still holding back. He
gave me a cynical smile. "It's just... he's never told me... he's never
admitted to it..."
He looked away again and his breath hitched like he was trying to keep himself
together. I wrapped my arms around his shoulders and pulled him close, letting
him press his face into the crook of my neck. His whole body shook as he fisted
both hands in the back of my shirt, and I could feel his warm tears on my skin,
but he was mostly silent as he cried.
I pressed my cheek to the top of his head and petted the soft hair at the back
of his neck, trying to comfort him the only way I knew how.
The door to his room opened again after a few minutes of silence, and my mother
poked her head through. Noticing the way Ryan was slumped against my chest, the
way he was still trembling, the way I held him comfortingly, she mouthed, "Is
he okay?"
I picked my head up off of Ryan's and nodded, mouthing, "He should be."
She gave me a warm smile and backed out, quietly shutting the door behind her.
After another second, there was a knock on the door, and Ryan sat up slowly.
"Yes?" he answered, his voice strangely steady as he wiped his face with the
back of his hand.
"I just wanted to tell you boys we're off to work," my mother called through
the door. "And I want you two to finish up that laundry while we're gone,
alright?"
"Sure thing, Mrs. Urie."
"Okay, Mom. Love you!"
I could hear her smile when she called back, already partially down the
hallway, "I love you too, Brendon."
Smiling, I turned back to Ryan who was still looking a little down. I still had
an arm around him, so I pulled him in a little closer, causing him to look at
me.
Where I got the courage from, I'll never know, but when I saw those troubled
brown eyes staring back at me, I pressed a kiss to his cheek before pulling
back quickly, my face growing hot.
A small grin broke out on his face. "I wish I could be more like you, Brendon.
You're so loving and carefree." His hand came up to my cheek and this time I
didn't flinch away. "You're innocent and sweet, and good god, Brendon, you can
light up a room with that smile."
I couldn't stop the sheepish curl to my lips, the blood that rushed to my face,
especially with the look that was in his eyes, a small something that made my
blood run a little warmer.
"I wouldn't be lying if I said I was falling for you, Brendon."
My heart was beating triple time at least. I wasn't sure what to say to that,
but I opened my mouth anyway. However, before anything came out, he pressed a
finger to my lips.
"Please don't say anything. I know this is a little confusing to you. Just...
can I kiss you again?"
I swallowed, fighting hard with myself to resist. "We should go wash the dishes
before the food sticks too much."
"Just once. And then we can go."
Unable to restrain myself, I nodded, letting him lean in to press a lingering
but chaste kiss to my lips. He didn't push for anything more than that, pulling
away after a minute.
A slightly bigger smile graced his features. "Okay, dishes."
I beamed back at him and took his hand, leading him back into the kitchen.
***
Friday was my free day, so I coaxed Ryan into watching Aladdin with me. He put
up a tough front, complaining about how childish Disney movies were, but I
caught him humming along a few times and smiled.
Somehow we ended up leaning on each other in the middle of the couch, Ryan's
arm slung around my shoulders and my cheek resting on his arm, our thighs
pressed together tightly. He dropped a small kiss on my hair and I smiled, my
hands twitching anxiously in my lap. Something about today seemed different,
but I wasn't sure what it was just yet.
"Brendon?" Ryan whispered eventually, his hand trailing to the back of my neck.
I looked up and he placed a single finger under my chin, a question, his eyes
asking for my permission. I nodded once and leaned in, meeting his lips in the
middle.
My eyes slipped shut as he dragged his fingers up from my neck and into my
hair, his other hand gently cupping the side of my face. The insatiable urge to
touch was overwhelming this time, and I let a hand creep slowly out of my lap
to rest lightly on Ryan's thigh.
The hand on my cheek dropped down to my chest as he dragged his tongue lightly
across my bottom lip, another silent question, the please evident in the slight
tug at my hair. I only hesitated for a second before opening my mouth a little.
I didn't really have a clue what I was doing, but I had seen enough kissing in
movies to know the general gist.
He cautiously licked into my mouth, exploring warily, and I made a small noise
in the back of my throat when his tongue brushed over my own. I flicked my
tongue over his, and I felt the hand on my chest trail down to my waist. When
he pulled back slightly and took my bottom lip between his teeth, I couldn't
hold back the surprised moan that ripped from my chest. The hand I had on his
thigh slipped a little as I leaned heavily against him, my other hand coming up
to brace myself against his ribs.
He pulled away suddenly and I unconsciously tried to follow his lips. I opened
my eyes to his soft, warm smile, his pupils a little larger than usual.
"Why'd you stop?" I asked quietly, a little surprised at how breathless I
sounded.
"Is this okay?" he murmured back, tugging a little at my waist. "I don't know
if I can stop myself before I go too far."
I nodded. "It's fine."
"Brendon, do you even know what you're saying?"
I froze. I actually had no idea what his intentions were, so really, no, I
didn't know what I was saying. I wasn't about to let him know how clueless I
was, however.
"Brendon," he repeated a little slower, his voice strained. "You have to be
able to tell me no if I do something you don't want me to do, okay?"
I felt a little lightheaded, as if I couldn't get enough oxygen to my brain.
"Okay."
He still looked a little skeptical but he leaned in anyway to catch my lips
again, still tugging at my waist until I was kneeling next to him on the couch.
I didn't hesitate to open my mouth at all when he licked at my lips, getting
braver as the hand on my waist slipped lower and lower. It finally stopped on
the back of my thigh, fingers curled just under the curve of my ass.
"C'mere," he muttered against my lips, nudging my thigh until I lifted my knee
off the cushions, and he placed it on the other side of his hips.
I gasped when he pulled my hips down, my half-hard cock pressing tightly
against his own, and he exhaled heavily through his nose. My hands were braced
against his collarbone, fingernails digging into his shoulders, and he moved
his hands around to cup my ass. He pulled back to bite at my lip before
trailing kisses across my jaw and down my neck. Lightly sucking on my jugular,
his fingers toyed with the hem of my shirt as he rolled his hips up against
mine, pulling a soft whimper from my throat.
"Ryan...," I groaned when he dragged his teeth along the tendon in my neck, his
fingertips brushing against the heated skin of my lower back.
Ryan froze. I figured he thought I was trying to stop him when he began to pull
away.
"No, wait," I breathed, trying to tug his shoulders back towards me, grinding
my hips down experimentally and exhaling on a moan. "Don't stop."
He pushed me completely off him and the couch, and I stood shakily. "I refuse
to debauch you on your living room couch," he replied, standing up as well and
wrapping an arm around my waist. "Come on, my room."
I grinned, allowing him to drag me down the hallway and into his room before
pushing me onto his bed. He pulled his shirt off and dropped it on the floor in
one smooth motion before crawling up the bed and straddling me.
Ryan was all smooth, pale hairless skin covering lean but strong looking
muscle, sharp hipbones peeking out over the waistband of his jeans. He looked
like a golden god, an angel in disguise, and all those other cliche phrases for
absolutely and perfectly beautiful. My fingers itched once again with the urge
to touch, but I was unsure if that was okay.
My breathing sounded loud in my own ears as he took my wrists and placed my
hands on his bare waist, leaning down to catch my lips again. Pressing his hips
down, his fingers wandered up under my shirt, the fabric bunching around his
wrists as his hands brushed across my ribs.
"Take this off," he whispered, pushing my shirt up a little farther.
I struggled out of the offending garment, an exhale turning into a whimper as
his mouth traveled down my neck to my collarbone before wandering down to a
nipple.
"Ryan...," I whined, arching up slightly.
He grinned up at me, dragging his tongue down my stomach, dipping into my navel
once before sucking lightly on my hip. He held me down when I squirmed, moving
down farther to nuzzle at my crotch, mouthing the hard line of my cock through
my jeans.
My breath stuttered in my throat and he brought his hands down to slowly,
teasingly undo my button and zipper before tugging my pants down and off,
leaving me in only my turquoise boxer-briefs. He was about to pull those off
too when I stopped him.
"Wait," I breathed when he hooked his fingers in the waistband of my underwear,
and he paused to look up.
"What's wrong?"
"Nothing, it's just... could you... first?" I asked, vaguely gesturing at his
own pants.
He smiled softly, his eyes crinkling a little. "Of course," he replied, his hot
breath ghosting over my cloth covered dick before he stood up and swiftly
removed his pants and boxers.
Ryan Ross was a golden god, screw the cliche. Those sharp hipbones angled down
to a small patch of dark brown hair above his cock, considerably larger than
mine, flushed and hard as a rock. His fragile looking legs went on forever,
finally ending in long slender feet. He was completely shameless, comfortable
in his own skin, and I could only dream of being that confident as I blushed
for staring at him.
Crawling back onto the bed, he settled between my legs, pressing a soft kiss
just below my navel. "Better?"
Swallowing, I nodded a little, nervous but wanting. I trusted Ryan a lot more
than I would have that Monday afternoon; I knew he would take care of me.
"You don't have to do this if you don't want to," he whispered, playing with
the elastic of my boxer-briefs.
I covered his hands with my own. "I want to."
I put my hands back on the bed and he smiled, carefully dragging my underwear
down when I lifted my hips and freeing my painfully hard cock.
"God, you're so beautiful, Brendon," Ryan breathed, running his hands up my
bare thighs to my hips. I could feel his eyes roaming over every inch of my
body, could feel the heat of a blush creeping up my neck. "I can make
everything feel so damn good."
He was looking up at my face then, a final question, his mouth hovering
dangerously close to my cock. Shuddering, all I could do was nod and he flicked
his tongue out to lick a stripe along the underside of my cock.
I moaned wantonly, my fingers curling into the sheets as he mouthed at my shaft
before taking the head in his mouth and sucking lightly. Not even a full minute
in and I was already a writhing mess, hips straining to buck up against Ryan's
firm hold, wanting nothing more than to shove my cock farther into that hot,
wet mouth.
"Ryan... oh, oh hell," I groaned, feeling the pressure build steadily just
below and slightly behind my navel as he bobbed his head in my lap, alternating
between sucking and flicking his tongue over a spot just under the head. One of
my hands found its way to Ryan's forearm, scrabbling for purchase as he easily
pulled me closer and closer to the edge.
"Ungh, god..."
Embarrassingly high pitched whines escaped my throat, but I didn't care
anymore. My nails were digging into the skin of Ryan's arm, and he brought the
other over to wrap his hand around the base of my cock, moving it in time with
his mouth, and there was no way I could last much longer. His eyes flicked up
to look at me when my hips twitched, carefully watching my face.
Looking into his eyes, I couldn't hold back any longer. "Oh... fuck..."
My eyes slipped shut as I came hard, Ryan's name tumbling from my lips on a
choked moan. I could feel him swallowing around me, gently milking out every
last bit, and my cock twitched appreciatively at the sensation.
My legs were still trembling from the aftershocks when he pulled off, crawling
up next to me and flopping down on his back by my side. A hand landed on my
lower stomach, and he trailed it up to my chest, letting it rest just below the
v of my collarbone.
"Good?" he inquired, and when I opened my eyes to look at him, he was smiling.
A breathless, "wow," was all I could manage, resting my cheek on his shoulder.
Taking a deep breath, I noticed he was still flushed and hard, his muscles
tense.
"Do you want me to...?" I wondered aloud, brushing my fingertips over his hip.
"Only if you want to. I'll understand if you don't, I mean, I do have a hand-"
I cut him off with an open mouthed kiss, a brave hand sneaking down to palm his
cock. He made a surprised noise in the back of his throat, rolling his hips up
against my hand.
"I want to, but you'll have to show me how," I replied, moving around so that I
was kneeling between his legs.
He nodded. "Give me your hand," he muttered, reaching out for my wrist and
bringing my hand up to his face. Sticking his tongue out, he licked my palm
before sucking on each of my fingers in turn, releasing my wrist when my whole
hand was slick with saliva.
I wrapped my hand around his cock then, watching his face as he exhaled
shakily, blinking slowly. His lips were still red and a little swollen from
sucking me off, parted slightly as he began to breathe a little deeper.
"Like this?" I asked as I began moving my hand over his cock, my hand sliding
easily over his heated flesh.
"Yeah, just... a little tighter," he muttered, curling a hand around my own to
show me just how much pressure he wanted. I nodded and he put his hand back
down. "You're doing great."
I continued to move my hand, keeping his grip and carefully watching his face.
Shifting my fingers a little, my thumb accidentally brushed across the head of
his cock and he hissed, digging his fingers into the sheets.
I froze. "Sorry."
"No, no, do that again," he replied shakily, reaching for my hand that rested
on his thigh.
He caught my gaze and I noticed how dark his eyes were, his pupils blown wide.
His mouth was parted a little wider than before, his two perfectly white front
teeth peeking out from behind his upper lip.
I kept my eyes on his, exhaling slowly as I brought my hand back up to rewet my
palm. Curling my fingers back around him, I resumed what I was doing before,
now running my thumb across his slit on every upstroke. I was a quick learner;
every time I did something new that made him gasp or moan, I did it again until
I had him writhing under me, his hips bucking up into the tight circle of my
hand.
"Ah, fuck, Brendon... faster, come on."
Biting my lip, I moved my hand faster, wanting to do well and make him come,
make him feel amazing. I lightly traced the fingers of my free hand over the
crease of his thigh and suddenly his back arched. Letting out a soft cry, his
fingers digging into the sheets, he came, white spilling over my knuckles to
splatter his stomach.
He whimpered as I slowed my hand and I finally let go of his softening cock,
running a curious finger through the warm liquid streaked across his lower
stomach. It wasn't that I had never seen or touched cum before, I certainly had
despite the stigma against masturbation. It was more that I had never witnessed
someone else's, or tasted it the way Ryan had. Bringing my hand up to my mouth,
I sucked my sticky finger into my mouth. The taste wasn't terrible; bland like
the taste of water or bread with the slightest hint of salty sweetness.
Ryan was watching me with astonished eyes. "Brendon...?"
Suddenly getting an idea, I leaned down to his stomach, cleaning him off with
my tongue. I felt Ryan's hand grab my hair and he pulled me up to him, kissing
me fiercely and tasting himself.
"Brendon... holy shit, you're amazing. Where the fuck did you learn that?"
I blushed. "Only from the best," I whispered, kissing his nose.
He grinned sheepishly, pulling me close to his side and tugging the sheets up
around our waists. I snuggled into his chest and let my eyes fall shut, smiling
when his arm draped around my back.
We were both out within minutes.
***
Grace Urie was a very intuitive woman, so when she came home a few minutes
early to find the DVD menu of Aladdin looping on the TV in the living room, she
immediately went looking for the two boys; first in Brendon's room, which was
empty, then in Ryan's. The door was closed when she came to it and, pressing
her ear to the door, inside the room was completely silent. Curious, she
quietly opened the door.
She gasped at what she saw, but did nothing else; both boys were naked, the
sheets resting low on their hips, clothes strewn across the floor. Ryan was
lying on his back with Brendon's head on his chest, both with their arms around
the other, and one of Brendon's legs was hooked over Ryan's knee. Brendon
snuffled in his sleep, turning his head to rest his other cheek on Ryan's chest
before snuggling closer to him, sheets riding dangerously low on the swell of
his ass.
Quickly deciding what to do, she silently shut the door and walked away, trying
to pretend it never happened.
***
"Boys, dinner time!"
I startled awake at my mother's voice, opening my eyes to look straight into
Ryan's wide caramel ones, both of us realizing our situation at the same time.
We practically flew apart, fumbling to put our clothes back on before my mother
got suspicious enough to come open the door.
Once we were decent, we both hurried out the door and to the kitchen, where
both of my parents were already seated at the table.
"You two shouldn't sleep so much, it's unhealthy," my father warned us before
saying grace, my 'Amen' rather weak and dull, but no one noticed.
The silence of dinner was awkward, and I wanted to be done eating as quickly as
possible. I felt like my parents could tell what I had done by just looking at
me, just looking at the both of us, and it was unnerving. I was sure that if
they knew they would ground me, or worse, completely disown me and kick me out,
but for some reason, the day that Ryan would leave seemed like a worse fate.
"So, how are you two boys getting along, huh? Haven't killed each other yet, I
see," my father inquired, shocking me out of my thoughts. "You been making
nice, son?" he continued, turning to me.
I swallowed thickly, thinking, 'A hell of a lot nicer than you'd like to know.'
"Yes, sir."
"And what about you, Ryan?"
Ryan's eyes flicked up to look at me. "Y-yes, sir."
My father chuckled then, smiling across the table at my mother, who had an
almost sad look on her face, but dropped it quickly to give my father a
strained smile. "We've made fine young men out of these two, haven't we,
Grace?"
She nodded solemnly. "Of course, Boyd." She gave me a sort of wounded look and
my heart dropped through the floor. She knew.
I let my fork fall to my plate with a soft clink. "May I be excused?"
My father nodded and I carefully scooted my chair back, taking my plate to the
sink before retreating to my room. I flopped down face first on my bed, huffing
frustratedly into the sheets. My mother knowing but keeping silent was possibly
even worse than having her yell at me; at least when she yelled at me, I could
plead my case. Not that I really had an excuse for this one.
"Brendon?"
I sighed at Ryan's voice, rolling over to look at him as he came to sit on my
bed. "She knows, Ry," I muttered, and I saw him smile fondly at the nickname.
"She can't know," he argued gently. "You can't just look at someone and be all,
'Hey, you've been getting laid, haven't you?' Doesn't work that way, Bren."
I grinned slightly at his new nickname for me but quickly dropped it. "She
knows and now she hates me."
"I'm sure she doesn't hate you, Brendon. She's your mother and she loves you."
"Yeah, but... what if she disowns me? What if she tells my dad and then they
kick me out or something?" I fidgeted with the sheets, worried now. "I mean...
what I did is against my - their religion," I added, catching myself. I
obviously didn't believe anymore if I was more afraid of what my parents would
do than what would happen to my soul.
"Bren, hey," he began softly, tipping my face up to look at him. "Look, even if
they don't accept you right away, they can't just completely forget about you.
And if they kick you out, you can always come live with me," he offered with a
grin. "My dad was really weird about it when I told him, and he's strictly
Catholic. But we're cool now."
I nodded to show I had heard him before burying my face in my pillow, sighing.
All I really wanted to do at that moment was crawl into a hole and die.
I felt him lie down next to me and run his long fingers through my hair. "She
just needs some time. You'll see, Bren."
I nodded again, just laying there as he continued to gently play with my hair,
humming something softly under his breath. I was almost asleep when I felt him
start to get up. I reached out a blind hand, grabbing on to whatever part of
him I could; I ended up grabbing the hem of his shirt.
"Don't go," I muttered into my pillow, tugging lightly on his shirt.
He chuckled lightly, prying my hand off of his shirt. "Okay, okay. Are you
sleeping like that?" he asked, and I could hear him pulling down the zipper of
his jeans.
I hummed into the pillow, only moving my hands down to undo my own jeans before
kicking them off, resettling again.
He laughed softly at me again, and suddenly his warm body was pressed against
my side, a hand wandering up the back of my shirt to lightly massage between my
shoulder blades. Sighing appreciatively, I relaxed into my bed, falling asleep
easily with Ryan's warmth at my side.
***
I woke to the soft light of daybreak the next morning, Ryan's face pressed into
my neck. His arm was wrapped around my waist, his hand tucked into the front of
my shirt and pressing against my stomach. I tried to wiggle out from under him
without waking him, but he stirred and held onto me tighter.
"Mmm, don't go anywhere, you're warm," he muttered into my neck. "And I'm
comfortable."
"C'mon, Ry, I have to go to the bathroom," I whined, still trying to move away.
He sighed, and I could feel him smile into my neck. "Alright, I suppose I can
let you go," he surrendered, letting go of me.
I kissed his cheek before getting up. "I'll be right back," I reminded him,
laughing a little.
He hummed his agreement, and I quickly went to the bathroom before returning,
snuggling up to him as close as was humanly possible.
"Ry?" I asked after a moment of comfortable, cuddly warm silence, my face
nuzzled into his chest.
"Hmm?" he answered, and I could feel the vibration of it through his chest.
I thought for a moment. "What... what is this?"
He looked down at me as I glanced up at him, our eyes meeting. "It's whatever
you want it to be, Bren. I mean, you know I have to leave Monday."
I nodded, clutching him tighter. I didn't want him to go now. "I want us... to
be, you know..."
"Together?" he supplied, smiling softly at me. "Sure, B."
My eyes widened at him. "You mean... so we're like... boyfriends now?"
"Whatever you want, Bren. Anything, absolutely anything for you," he whispered,
brushing hair out of my eyes. "I love you," he added even more quietly, tracing
my jawline with his finger.
I opened my mouth to say it back, but he stopped me with his finger to my lips.
"Only say it if you really mean it."
I nodded and he moved his finger away, resting his hand on the back of my neck.
"I... I love you too, Ry," I breathed, looking into his deep honey eyes to let
him know I really meant it.
He gave me the most winning smile, holding me closer and nuzzling into my hair.
We laid that way for what seemed like hours, just holding each other tightly,
breathing each other's air. My mother called us for breakfast after a while,
and we reluctantly got up, putting on proper clothes before heading into the
kitchen.
"Good morning, boys," my mother greeted us cheerily, wiping her hands on a
dishtowel. My father was still back in their bedroom taking his morning shower.
"Morning, Mom."
"Morning, Mrs. Urie."
She came over to me then, surprising me with an extra tight hug and a peck to
the top of my head. She pulled back a little to look me in the face then, a
soft smile on her lips.
"I just want you to know, Brendon, that whatever you do, your father and I will
always love you. We may not agree completely with what you want to do, but we
will always love you, no matter what. Remember that."
Shocked into speechlessness, I looked over to Ryan, who was simply grinning at
me.
"Thanks, Mom. I love you too," I replied, hugging her back.
My father came in and we had a quiet breakfast, Ryan periodically looking up to
smile at me. Afterwards we were recruited to do the dishes, which we finished
rather quickly, before retiring to Ryan's room.
"What do you want to do after high school?" I asked once we were comfortably
snuggled together, nose to nose.
He hummed in thought. "I suppose I'd go to college. I dunno, I really wanted my
band to make it big, but I'm not sure if that's gonna happen."
"You have a band?"
He smiled and blushed slightly. "Yeah. I write the lyrics, play guitar, and
sing."
"Really? I do that too!" I nearly yelled in his face, my ADHD getting the
better of me for a moment, but quickly subdued myself. "Well, I'm not in an
actual band or anything... I really just fuck around by myself."
I saw him smile at me cursing and I covered my mouth, making him laugh out
loud.
"You're too cute," he muttered, mussing my hair. "So, what about you? What do
you want to do?"
"I'd probably be a land surveyor, like my dad," I answered solemnly.
"I asked what you wanted to do, not what your parents want you to do."
"Oh." I thought for a moment. "I think I'd like to be a hairstylist. Or being
famous would be cool."
He chuckled lightly at me. "As much as I'd like to be famous, I don't know if I
could handle the spotlight."
"Yeah?" I pressed, quirking an eyebrow.
He nodded. "It may not seem like it to you, but I'm terribly shy. Self-
conscious. I get nervous really easily." He ran a hand across my cheek. "I'm a
little insecure about my looks, too."
"But you're so beautiful and confident, Ry."
"I'm only confident in bed," he shot back with a laugh, making me giggle as
well. "No, I'm always afraid I'm gonna fuck up a guitar part, or my singing
will sound like shit. Well, my singing always sounds like shit, but you know
what I mean."
I poked his nose with an index finger. "I'm sure you sound just fine."
"Thanks."
"I've always felt a little insecure about my hips and my..." I paused, catching
myself on the word before remembering that Ryan didn't care. "My ass. They're
really big and girly."
"I like them," Ryan replied with a smile. "Don't worry about it."
We spent the majority of our Saturday like that, curled up together on his bed
talking about anything and everything. He talked about his friends and band
mates, Brent and Spencer, and I told him about how I didn't really have any
friends. He told me about his dad and his drinking problem, and I confided in
him my escapades with weed and alcohol.
"You're not the innocent little Mormon boy I thought you were."
I grinned at him. "Most certainly not."
***
I woke Sunday morning with Ryan pressed to my back again, arms wrapped around
my waist and one hand dangerously close to my crotch. I got up without waking
him this time, using the bathroom quickly before curling back up with him. It
was a little after eight, and I knew my parents would be leaving soon for their
Sacrament Meeting.
"Hmm, you wake up way too early, Bren," he muttered into the back of my neck
after a minute, holding me close.
Suddenly an idea occurred to me, and I grinned. "I think you'll thank me in
about a half hour."
"If you tell me what it is, promise I can sleep till then?"
I chuckled. "I don't know if you'll want to."
He picked himself up to lean over me, his eyes still half closed and his hair
sticking up at odd angles. "And what do you suppose could possibly trump my
sleep card at ass crack o'clock?"
I grinned up at him even wider. "My parents are leaving around 8:30 for
Sacrament Meeting. They'll be gone till noon."
He opened his eyes all the way at that, his dark honey colored irises sparkling
in the pale morning light. "You're serious."
I nodded, quirking my eyebrows at him.
He pulled me into a harsh kiss before he pulled away almost as quickly as he
had begun. "8:30, huh?" he questioned, looking over to the little digital clock
on his nightstand, which read 8:14 in neon red. "Sixteen minutes, we might as
well talk. What exactly were your plans?"
He flopped back down onto the bed and I rolled over to face him, biting my lip.
"I was hoping you could...," I trailed, pressing my hand to his bare chest.
"That we could... you know."
Leaning close, he whispered in my ear, "You want me to make love to you,
Brendon?"
I shuddered as his hot breath ghosted over my skin, a hand playing with the hem
of my shirt. I could feel the heat in my face as I nodded without even
hesitating.
"Are you sure?"
"I'm sure," I replied breathily, dragging my hand lightly down to his stomach.
He smiled gently, softly pressing his lips to mine. "I can make you feel so
good, Bren," he breathed, nuzzling my cheek.
"Boys, we're leaving!" my mother called through my door then, making the both
of us jump. We stayed perfectly still and silent until we heard the front door
slam shut.
"You're sure they'll be gone till noon?" Ryan asked after a beat, pushing me
onto my back and straddling me, leaving a hot trail of wet kisses down my neck.
"Dead sure," I panted, wiggling out of my shirt quickly. Taking his face in my
hands, I pulled him up for a kiss, our tongues battling as I threaded my
fingers in his hair.
He pulled back for air after a moment. "Good, cause I have some ideas," he
murmured against my mouth before reconnecting our lips, grinding his hips down
at the same time.
I groaned softly into the kiss, meeting Ryan's hips each time he pushed them
down against mine until we were both hard, sharing breath and touching whatever
bits of skin we could reach. After a few moments, I reached down to push his
boxers off his hips, and he flopped down on his back next to me to take them
off. Quickly slipping my own underwear off, I straddled him as soon as he was
just as naked as I was, letting our bare cocks slide together and moaning
quietly.
"Oh fuck, Brendon," Ryan hissed, grabbing my ass and leaning up to nip at my
bottom lip, bucking his hips up into mine. When I wasn't paying attention, he
rolled us over so that he was on top once again, holding my arms above my head
by my wrists. Kissing down my neck, he slowed down the frantic pace we had set,
unhurriedly sucking at my pulse point.
"Ryan...," I whimpered, squirming against his hold, eyes rolling back in my
head as he ground his hips down against mine. Every movement he made was
tortuously slow, drawing everything out until I was nothing more than a panting
mess under him, painfully hard and begging.
"Are you sure you want to do this, Bren?" he asked quietly before laving at a
spot under my ear, making me gasp and shudder.
"Y-yes. I trust you, Ryan."
He let go of my wrists to hold himself up above me, looking down into my face.
He nodded. "Okay."
Pressing a quick kiss to my lips, he got up to go rummage in his backpack,
eventually coming back with a small tube and a little square of foil; lube and
a condom. I took a deep breath as nervousness began to settle in, trying to
relax. I was old enough and resourceful enough to know the basic gist of gay
sex, and I knew it would hurt more than feel good if I tensed up. I loosened up
a little by telling myself that Ryan would make it good, Ryan would take care
of me.
He laid the lube and condom on the bed, spreading my legs and pushing them up
before settling between them. Kissing along the inside of my thigh, he picked
up the lube again and opened it, coating his fingers.
"This may feel weird and/or hurt a little," he warned quietly, running a
fingertip around the outside of my hole, barely pressing in before pulling out
to continue his teasing. He waited until I nodded before carefully pressing his
finger all the way in.
It did feel kind of strange, my body instinctively clamping down on his slender
digit, but it didn't hurt yet. I was finally able to relax my muscles, and Ryan
began moving his finger, making me tighten up again. It took me a minute and a
little bit of Ryan sucking on the crease of my thigh to get to the point of
semi-control over those muscles, whimpering when it stopped feeling weird and
started feeling like not enough.
"Ready for two?" he asked then, pressing soft kisses anywhere he could reach. I
knew he had to be slightly irritated at having to go so slowly, but I was
infinitely grateful for it, nodding eagerly.
He eased the second one in and I could feel the stretch of it, but still no
real pain to speak of. I adjusted much more quickly this time, and I was slowly
rocking my hips after a bit. Suddenly, I felt his fingers curl up, making me
cry out loudly as I felt the most intense wave of pleasure crash around me.
"W-what was that?" I wondered aloud breathlessly as he went back to his
previous ministrations, teasing my entrance with a third finger.
"Prostate," he muttered into my thigh, sucking on the sensitive flesh there.
"Some people like to call it the male G-spot," he explained a little further,
now scissoring his fingers inside me. His eyes flickered up to my face, which I
quickly assumed looked slightly confused. "Don't worry about it, just know that
it feels good when you touch it."
I nodded and rolled my hips back against his hand, silently asking for more.
His eyes asked for confirmation and mine gave it, and he slowly pushed his ring
finger in beside the other two.
A little more stretch, but it still felt like not quite enough. Three fingers
didn't quite hurt enough to be concerned about, but it did burn a little, like
a stretched muscle after a good workout. He brushed them over my prostate
several times, but didn't curl his fingers like that first time, adding to the
feeling of being teased.
At four fingers I was begging for him to just do it already, squirming and
bucking against his hand, feeling the ridges of his third set of knuckles
against my entrance. He spread them a little for good measure before pulling
them all out, leaving me feeling so, so empty.
"Patience, baby," he cooed, kissing my hipbone as he grabbed the condom and
ripped open the wrapper with his teeth, rolling it on with practiced ease.
"Roll over," he instructed softly, coating his cock with lube.
"But I can't see you," I whined, settling onto my stomach, my ass sticking out
in the air slightly to keep from trapping my cock.
Lining up, he pressed a kiss to my shoulder. "I know, I'll let you roll back
over after a minute. It's just this way hurts less for the first time." He was
rubbing the head of his cock against my hole, and I shuddered. "And I don't
want to hurt you."
Looking back at him over my shoulder, I nodded, covering his hand holding him
up on the mattress with my own. He let out a small breath and began pushing in,
trying to go as slow as possible.
I gasped when he made it past the tight ring of muscle, fingers twisting into
the sheets as I finally felt the pain. I pressed my forehead into the pillow
and tried to breathe, to relax, anything to stop the pain. I felt a hand on my
softening cock, slowly pumping it back to life as my muscles stopped clenching
so tightly around him.
"God, Bren, you're doing so great," he whispered when I relaxed enough for him
to sink all the way in, and I could feel his pulse mingling with mine. "You
okay?"
"Yeah," I breathed, turning my head to the side so that I could look back at
him out of the corner of my eye. I felt so filled, so completely full of Ryan,
it seemed as if he was all around me as well. "Just... could you... move?"
Chuckling at me, he slowly pulled out and rolled his hips back in, setting a
slow pace that made me sigh at how good it felt, how gentle he was being. The
only sounds in the room were the slick noises of Ryan's cock in my ass and our
steady breathing, Ryan's hot against the back of my neck. It was probably the
most romantic thing I had ever experienced, despite not being able to see him
well or hold him. I could feel the love in the small kisses pressed to my
shoulder, the tender roll of his hips, the slow drag of his cock against my
insides. Allowing myself to do nothing more than feel, I let all the sensations
wash over me completely, moaning softly.
"You want to flip over now?" he whispered in my ear a little after I started
pushing back against his thrusts, almost completely lost in the feeling of our
bodies moving in synch.
"Uh huh," I replied as coherently as possible, my voice high pitched and
strained. I couldn't help the whine of protest I made as he pulled out,
suddenly feeling empty. As soon as I was turned over, however, he was pushing
right back in, catching my lips in the perfect passionate kiss. Wrapping my
arms around his neck, my fingers tangling in the hair at the back of his neck,
we resumed our previous rhythm like we had never skipped a beat.
"Brendon...," Ryan panted against my neck, clinging to my upper thighs with
those deceptively strong hands. Dragging them down, he cupped the backs of my
knees and pulled my legs up to my chest, hooking them over his shoulders.
I moaned loudly as the new position allowed him perfect access to my prostate,
clenching my eyes shut and gripping his hair tightly with both hands. The slow
pace we had been going at this whole time suddenly seemed like not enough, and
I rolled my hips up against his hard.
"Fuck, Ryan, more... more, faster, please," I begged against his cheek, moving
down to nip none too lightly at the skin under his jawline.
He groaned and pulled his head back a little, and I opened my eyes to look up
at him. His eyes were dark, pupils blown wide, the usual caramel brown nearly
black now, and his mouth was open slightly. His bangs were hanging down in
front of his face, his movement and heavy breaths making them flutter slightly.
His lips didn't smirk, but his eyes did as he slammed into me, hitting my
prostate dead on, and my back arched, my head falling back onto the pillow as I
almost screamed. My nails dug into the back of his neck as he repeated that
action over and over again, moving his head back down to suck on my exposed
neck.
"Ryan... oh, Ryan, fuck," I muttered against his temple, almost sobbing at how
good I felt. "Ryan... I'm-I'm gonna..."
"Shh," he whispered, pressing a soft kiss to my lips as he wrapped a hand
around my cock, swallowing the low moan I made.
Only a few strokes of his hand, a few more rough thrusts into my spot and I was
coming hard across Ryan's knuckles with an animalistic cry, nails digging into
his flesh as my hot cum streaked my stomach. He continued to fuck me through
it, finally shuddering and letting out a soft gasp, stilling inside of me.
I pulled him down against me and he collapsed, panting against my shoulder as I
held him close. Closing my eyes and raking my fingers through his now sweaty
hair, I felt more than heard him hum contentedly into my collarbone. I pressed
a kiss to his hair as he pushed himself back up, pulling out as carefully as he
could, but I still winced a little. I laid there catching my breath as he
removed the condom and threw it away, cleaning off our stomachs with the edge
of the sheets.
Flopping down next to me, he pulled me close, holding me tightly. "I love you,
Brendon."
I snuggled into his chest, near to passing out. "I love you too, Ryan."
***
Grace peeked in on Ryan and Brendon when she and Boyd came home, finding them
in a similar position to a few days prior, only now their hair was damp with
sweat and the whole room smelled of sex.
Smiling a little bittersweetly, she left them alone, shutting the door quietly.
***
Monday morning came much too soon, and breakfast was a rather dismal event,
Ryan and I both long-faced and gloomy. My mother insisted on washing the
dishes, leaving Ryan and I to moping around his room as he packed up. He gave
me a thin smile as he zipped up his backpack and slung it over his shoulder.
"My cab should be here soon," he muttered, wanting to leave just about as much
as he wanted to chew off his big toe.
I went over to him and pulled him into a tight hug. "You know, as much as you
scared me at first, I think I can truthfully say that this has been the best
week of my life. Ever."
"Agreed," he chuckled into my hair, hugging me back.
"Ryan, your cab's here!" my mother called across the house, the two of us
separating and walking out the front door together.
"Thanks so much for letting me have this opportunity, Mr. and Mrs. Urie," Ryan
was saying, hugging each of my parents in turn. "It's been a great experience."
"And we were happy to have you, Ryan," my mother answered, holding his face
between her hands and pressing a small kiss to his forehead, just like she
would have done to me.
"You've done well this week, son. I think your father will be proud of you," my
father added, clapping him on the shoulder.
Ryan nodded at them both with a smile before turning to me. He bit his lip as
if he were debating something before hugging me tightly, pressing his face into
my neck. I squeezed back, trying not to lose it.
"I'm gonna miss you so much," I mumbled into his shoulder, holding on even
tighter.
He gasped and pulled away quickly, suddenly digging backwards into the front
pocket of his backpack. "No, you're not," he replied confidently, pulling out a
Sharpie. "I can't believe I didn't think of this before, I'm such an idiot," he
berated himself, grabbing my arm with his left hand and biting the cap off the
Sharpie. He immediately began scribbling something on my arm, a phone number -
a 702 number even, a Vegas number!
"That's my number. You can call me whenever, alright?"
I beamed at him, my eyes pricking with intermingled happy and sad tears. Not
even caring that my parents were standing right there, I grabbed him by the
sides of his face and pulled him into a fierce kiss, feeling the tears finally
roll down my cheeks. We separated after a moment, and Ryan gently kissed my
tears away.
"I'll come visit whenever you want. My dad said if I did well with this he'd
buy me a car." He was smiling widely at me, taking a hold of my hand. "I love
you, B. Don't forget that," he whispered, kissing the back of my hand like the
perfect gentleman.
"I love you too, Ry."
He let go of my hand and took a few steps backwards. "Bye, Brendon. Bye, Mr.
and Mrs. Urie," he called as he turned and headed over to the cab waiting
patiently on the street.
Just before he got in the car, however, he looked back over his shoulder at me,
that smirk I knew so well plastered to his face, and winked.
Please drop_by_the_archive_and_comment to let the author know if you enjoyed
their work!