Posted originally on the Archive_of_Our_Own at https://archiveofourown.org/
works/714316.
  Rating:
      Explicit
  Archive Warning:
      Underage
  Category:
      M/M
  Fandom:
      Bandom, Panic!_at_the_Disco
  Relationship:
      Ryan_Ross/Spencer_Smith
  Additional Tags:
      Crossdressing, Underage_Sex, First_Time
  Stats:
      Published: 2013-03-09 Words: 3339
****** White Boyshorts ******
by mokuyoubi
Summary
     Teenage fumblings and first times, with bonus crossdressing! Pure
     smutty fluff. This developed from comment fic, inspired by ’s prompt
     and the panties here
If it had been anyone else but Ryan, Spencer probably would have been on the
floor in stitches. In fact, if anyone had asked him, before now, what his
reaction would have been to Ryan in lingerie, he probably would have gone with
hysterical laughter.
Instead, five seconds after opening the door his hand’s so sweaty the doorknob
slips out of his grip and he’s left standing just inside, mouth dry, eyes wide,
brain completely whited out, and there’s nothing funny about this.
Ryan turns his head to look over his shoulder, gaze is steady on Spencer’s
face, waiting, and Spencer can’t think of anything to say. He can’t think of
anything to do except to stare because…Ryan is wearing girl’s panties.
And the thing is, they’re not even all that revealing. Spencer’s seen him in
way less—briefs show more skin than these do. They’re kinda…sophisticated,
which, Spencer thinks distantly, suits Ryan pretty well.
But there’s something about the fact that they’re meant for a girl that makes
Spencer’s heart beat faster. Makes the eyeliner that Ryan always wears seem
more mysterious. Makes the line of Ryan’s spine seem to arc like something
delicate. Make’s Ryan’s skin seem to almost glow golden against the white of
the fabric.
Makes Spencer’s eyes linger on the way the eyelet trimmed edges curve against
the slight swell of Ryan’s ass, how the laces up the side make neat bows on
Ryan’s hips, the ends just brushing Ryan’s thigh, and Spencer wonders if it
tickles. Wonders if his fingers brushed the same place, would Ryan’s skin be as
soft as it looks?
Spencer’s been telling himself for months that the feelings he has for Ryan are
totally misplaced. He tells himself it doesn’t matter how crazy his heart goes
just thinking about Ryan, how he can’t imagine trusting anyone else like he
does Ryan, and isn’t that what love is all about?
He’s told himself it doesn’t matter because even with all of that, it’s still
Ryan and he can’t get past that mental roadblock. He’s pretty sure any attempt
to take things any further would lead to disaster because it’s Ryan.
Ryan who he’s known since they were tiny, who was a big, snotty, crying mess
when his mom took away his favourite stuffed bear. Ryan, who he’d eaten dog
food with that one time, just to see what it tasted like. Ryan, who shared his
bathtub when they were little and who calls Spencer’s parents mom and dad, and
it’s just weird, okay?
Ryan is like a brother. How is Spencer supposed to get past all that stuff? How
can he kiss him, let alone think about doing other stuff with him? Spencer’d
probably laugh in the middle of it and Ryan would get all offended and then it
would be over before it had even begun.
And so Spencer has just convinced himself he’d get over it, that things will
get better because of it, and he’s never suspected that Ryan would notice. And
even if Ryan had noticed, Spencer never would have thought that Ryan would do
anything about it. Ryan is sort of the exact opposite of confrontational.
Because Ryan’s planned this. There’s no way this is an accident. Inviting
Spencer to his place since Ryan’s dad is out of town for the weekend. Spencer
called from the gas station to see if Ryan wanted anything else and said he’d
be there in ten minutes and it’s been almost twenty. Ryan has had plenty of
time to get changed or cover up, or whatever. He had to have heard Spencer
letting himself in the front door. This is no mistake.
It’s a good plan, too. Spencer is thinking of doing a lot of things to Ryan at
this very moment, and not a single one of them has to do with laughing.
“Turn around,” Spencer hears, and realises it’s him saying it, voice coming out
choked and raspy. He sounds ridiculous, but Ryan doesn’t even crack a smile.
His face is really serious and sort of grown up looking and he turns around.
Spencer fumbles behind himself, slamming the door shut. He doesn’t care if
Ryan’s dad isn’t around. He wants the door shut. He wants it just the two of
them and everything else outside.
Ryan’s cock is a hard line against his belly, making the demure panties look
really obscene from the front. His arms are loose at his side, fingers curling
gently against his thighs, drawing Spencer’s attention down Ryan’s long, long
legs and Spencer notices for the first time that they’re smooth and hairless
and Spencer just has to touch.
Somehow he’s across the room in two steps and he doesn’t know where to put his
hands first. Ryan’s breathing is fast and heavy and he’s just waiting and
Spencer lays his palms flat on Ryan’s thighs and smooths up. He traces his
thumb across the lacy bottom edge, barely brushing the skin just beneath and
Ryan makes a soft whimpering sound and moves his hips forward.
Spencer wants to watch Ryan’s face, but he can’t tear his gaze away from his
own hands and how they look against Ryan’s skin. Ryan lays his hands over
Spencer’s, fingers fitting loosely in the lines between Spencer’s, but not
lacing them together. His touch is barely a whisper, but he urges Spencer’s
hands higher and Spencer follows.
The embroidery of on the panties is rough against Spencer’s hand, almost
painfully so in contrast to Ryan’s skin. “Can I…” he starts to ask, and then
decides he doesn’t need to. He curls his fingers in the waistband and pulls out
as he tugs down, careful of Ryan’s erection. Ryan doesn’t try to stop him.
Spencer figures maybe Ryan’s used up all his proactive acts for life with this
one act, and is leaving the rest to Spencer.
Spencer is so fucking hard it hurts and he’s never been so turned on in his
life, and he’s worried if Ryan so much as looks at him the wrong way, Spencer’s
going to come in his pants. He tries to focus on Ryan, and all the new, bare
skin, pushing the underwear down until it goes loose around Ryan’s knees and
falls the rest the way to his ankles.
Ryan takes a step back, out of the panties and towards the bed and sits down,
knees apart. Spencer follows, kneeling on the mattress between Ryan’s thighs
and their faces are close together. Spencer can feel Ryan’s breath puffing
against his chin. He manages to tear his gaze away from Ryan’s dick long enough
to look at Ryan’s face and he’s glad he did.
Ryan’s eyes are dark and glassy with lust, his cheeks are flushed and his
bottom lip is all swollen from where he’s been biting it. Spencer presses his
thumb against Ryan’s lip and Ryan parts his mouth just slightly, just lightly
catching Spencer’s skin with his tongue. His lips curl, just slightly. Just
enough to say that even though he may not look it, this is still Spencer’s
Ryan.
Spencer presses harder, tugs Ryan’s lips further apart and dips his head to
place a quick kiss there, flicking his tongue against Ryan’s and leaning back
again in the space of a second. Ryan strains up towards him, eyes dipping
closed and he makes that soft whimpering noise again.
“What do you want?” Spencer asks.
Ryan moans. “Everything,” he says. Spencer kisses him, possessive and
demanding, one hand fisting in the hair at the back of Ryan’s neck, the other
palming the small of Ryan’s back. The angle is weird and Spencer feels like
he’s going to fall off the bed, but it lets him kiss Ryan deeper, fucking his
tongue between Ryan’s lip and Ryan just gives, arching into Spencer’s touch,
opening his mouth to Spencer’s onslaught, moaning deep in his throat.
“You should lay down,” Spencer says. He wants to kiss Ryan’s throat, his ear,
his shoulder, but he can’t seem to get away from Ryan’s mouth.
Ryan nods, inching back on the bed. He lays back on his elbows, legs still
spread wide. He looks like a fucking porn star—there’s no extra fat on him
anywhere, just sculpted shoulders, flat stomach, cut hips…and his cock.
Spencer’s known that Ryan’s got a big cock. They’re friends and they’re guys. A
measuring tape might have been involved at some point. Not that Spencer looked,
because that would have been weird.
He’s free to look all he wants, now, but he’d rather be touching. As much as
he’d like to just go right for it, he’s not really sure what the protocol his
here. The most he’s ever gone with a girl is some heavy making out at parties,
but he’s seen enough of his mother’s magazines to know that most people like
foreplay.
So Spencer crawls up the bed and leans in, trying to keep most his weight on
his own arms, off of Ryan’s body. The less he reminds Ryan of the differences
between their body types, the better. If he can manage to get through this
encounter with most of his clothes on, maybe Ryan won’t run away in disgust.
Ryan stretches up, lips brushing over Spencer’s throat. Spencer’s never been
all that sensitive there when girls have kissed him before, but Ryan’s touch is
whisper light and it sends sparks down Spencer’s spine, makes his hips thrust
forward entirely without his permission. Ryan tries again, this time with teeth
and Spencer actually fucking moans, which is so embarrassing, but it just makes
Ryan bite harder.
Spencer works a knee close to Ryan’s cock and pushes and Ryan’s elbows give
out. Spencer follows him to the mattress, tugging Ryan’s earlobe between teeth,
scraping the skin roughly and Ryan’s breath catches. His hands scramble between
them, going for Spencer’s jeans.
“Wait,” Spencer says, sitting up too fast. All his bravado is suddenly gone.
Ryan’s bite stings like the skin’s been broken, and he looks up at Spencer with
wide eyes. “I bought stuff,” he says. “There’s condoms and lube and I read
about it online.”
It’s like Ryan’s speaking a foreign language, for all the sense he’s making at
the moment. “You want me…me to…to…”
Ryan bites his lip and nods his head, going back up on his elbows. “I mean. For
the first time, anyway. I thought we could try it both ways. But, yeah.” He
squirms under Spencer, reaching under his pillow, and comes out with a string
of condoms and a bottle of lube and that hysterical laughter Spencer was
worried about? Is bubbling up in the back of his throat.
“Here,” Ryan says, and takes Spencer’s hand, drizzling the lube over his
fingers. Spencer watches dumbly and rubs his thumb over the stuff, spreading it
around. He’s never actually used lube before, just lotion and shit. This is a
lot slicker. His fingers look too thick and his nails are uneven, cuticles
fucked up. He doesn’t want to think about getting them anyplace near somewhere
sensitive and delicate like Ryan’s ass.
“Ryan,” Spencer says, and can’t decide if he wants to laugh or just run away or
what.
Ryan gives him a look like he knows exactly what Spencer’s thinking. His hand
tightens on Spencer’s wrist and he shoves it between his thighs. “Spencer. Fuck
me.”
And then Spencer’s fingers are pressed against Ryan’s ass and it’s absurd and
impossible and really slick, and before he really has time to analyse it, one
is pushing inside Ryan’s body. He lets out a surprised breath and pushes deeper
because he’s inside Ryan’s body. Ryan’s hand loosens on his wrist, drifts up
his arm, almost tender and he lets Spencer get used to it, gently working his
way in.
“Put another one in,” Ryan says, breathless, voice tight. Spencer looks up and
Ryan’s face is the picture of concentration, little frown his lips, furrow
between his brows.
Two go…okay. Ryan keeps chewing on his lip and making these little breathy
sounds that don’t sound like it feels good, but when Spencer suggests they
stop, Ryan’s glare is enough of an answer. Three, on the other hand, just won’t
fit. Ryan’s body is having none of it, no matter how much Ryan insists.
“Maybe we should just—”
“Just shut up,” Ryan says. “We’re doing this.”
Spencer huffs a sigh, because of course Ryan’s bossy in sex, too. He bats at
Ryan’s hands when they start on his zipper again, but Ryan just sets a look on
him. “You actually can’t do this with your clothes on, Spence.”
It’s awkward while he’s undressing, aware of Ryan’s eyes on him as he strips
out of his shoes and socks and jeans. He hesitates before shoving down his
boxers and leaves his shirt on, even though Ryan’s lips are pursed in that
pissy way he gets when someone does something contrary to what Ryan wants.
Spencer climbs back on the bed and doesn’t know where to put himself, or how
this works at all. But Ryan scoots closer, grabs Spencer’s dick and Spencer’s
eyes fall closed and he fucks into Ryan’s hand, hissing. “Fuck, Ryan…I can’t…”
Ryan rips a condom packet open and rolls it down Spencer’s length. “Yeah, come
on, Spence. You can.”
And it turns out it doesn’t matter if Spencer’s brain doesn’t know what to do,
because his body sure as hell does. Ryan barely even has to help; Spencer can’t
stop his hips thrusting and Ryan just guides him to the right place. Ryan’s
face screws up like he’s in pain and Spencer can’t stop, just keeps sinking in
saying, “Sorry, sorry.”
There’s a moment when Spencer doesn’t think he can fit. Ryan’s so tight around
him, too tight and Spencer’s barely halfway in but Ryan lifts his legs, hooking
them around Spencer’s hips and somehow they make it, Spencer’s thighs against
Ryan’s ass. Spencer holds himself still, face in Ryan’s throat and says,
“Sorry.”
Ryan’s jaw is set but he shakes his head. “Keep going,” he grits out.
Spencer shifts, rocking out and then back in. It’s a little smoother but just
as tight and his vision is going white around the edges. He bites down on
Ryan’s shoulder and gives into the inevitable drag of it, hips working through
his orgasm, jerking over and over into Ryan’s body.
“Sorry,” he whispers again, pulling out and falling to Ryan’s side. He fumbles
with the condom, making a mess as he takes it off, spilling come all over his
thighs and the bed.
“Quit saying that and help me figure out how we make this better,” Ryan snaps,
but his voice doesn’t have its normal level of malice. Spencer casts him a
glance and Ryan’s not even hard anymore.
“What do you want me to do?” Spencer asks.
“You’re a fucking perfectionist, Spence,” Ryan says. “Practice makes perfect.”
This time when Spencer goes down on his stomach between Ryan’s thighs, his
fingers slip inside much more easily. He pushes gingerly, waiting inch by inch
for Ryan’s body to adjust before going further. When he pulls free to pour more
lube on his fingers, he lets his fingers rub at the perineum, circle the hole
before pushing again. When Ryan gasps, it sounds different from before.
Spencer gets up on his knees, wraps his free hand around Ryan’s cock, already
starting to stir with interest. He pumps a few times, getting a feel for the
size and thickness, liking the way it swells at his touch. Spencer works his
fingers free with a slick, sucking sound and Ryan moans in protest.
“It’s…it’s better,” Ryan says. “You can…you don’t have to stop. I think, if you
turn your fingers…”
Spencer shuts him up by wrapping his lips around Ryan’s cock and sucking.
Ryan’s hands fly out, fisting in the sheets and his hips thrust up and good
thing Spencer’s holding on to Ryan’s cock, or he might have just choked on it.
“Shh,” Spencer says against the tip of Ryan’s cock and Ryan shivers, hips
dropping back to the bed.
Spencer’s hard again, trying to keep his hips from humping against the bed,
trying to focus on Ryan, but it’s difficult when Ryan’s writhing and begging
beneath him, leaking in Spencer’s mouth.
Spencer circles Ryan’s hole again and adds a third finger when he sinks them
back in. It goes easily this time, Spencer’s hand dripping with lube. He
remembers what Ryan said and twists his wrist, turning his fingers palm up and
tentatively searching. He knows it when he finds it, not just because he can
feel it but because Ryan fucking whimpers Spencer’s name and says,
“Theretherethere, Spence, please.”
Spencer takes his time, testing to see what gets the best reaction—tapping the
spot, rubbing gently back and forth, pressing down and massaging—until Ryan’s a
mess, just whining and riding Spencer’s hand. He’s close. Spencer can tell but
the way his body’s going tight. Then Ryan grabs a handful of Spencer’s hair and
tugs him away.
“What?” Spencer mumbles, straining against the touch. He wants Ryan back in his
mouth, wants to feel him come, see it happen, taste it. All the awkwardness
from before is gone. He wants this, and he’s not going to be confused about it
anymore. “What do you want, Ryan?”
“Can you…” Ryan starts and breaks off with a moan, hips grinding down on
Spencer’s knuckles. “Can you, again? Are you…”
Spencer presses his face into Ryan’s thigh, chuckling. “Yeah, that’s not going
to be a problem,” Spencer assures him, and rubs at the spot inside again.
Ryan shudders, going tense and whines in protest. “No, Spence, I want you
inside,” he says, even as he works back against Spencer’s touch. “Please,
Spence, come on.” He tears one condom clean through before Spencer takes pity
on him and helps with the wrapper of another one, getting it with his teeth so
he doesn’t have to stop stroking against Ryan’s prostate.
“Spence, come on,” Ryan says again, voice desperate and Spencer supposes it’s a
good thing that Ryan’s so close to coming, because even though he just came
twenty minutes ago, he’s not going to last any longer this time.
This time, Spencer sinks in easily and Ryan twines around him, gasping for air
like he’s drowning. Spencer kisses him and Ryan kisses back, everything they’ve
never said passing back and forth on their tongues.
Ryan moves with him, meeting his every thrust, and now that Spencer knows where
it is, he angles his hips, making sure he hits the right spot each time until
Ryan bites down hard on Spencer’s top lip and comes, his moan vibrating against
Spencer’s chest, going straight down. His body clenches tight around Spencer’s
cock and Spencer can’t hold on.
They’re silent for a long time and Ryan keeps shaking, like he’s cold, only his
body is hot and sweaty under Spencer’s. Spencer’s more careful about the condom
this time and manages not to make a mess, but his shirt is covered in Ryan’s
come. He considers if for a minute before thinking fuck it and peeling it off.
The second he lays back down, Ryan’s on him, curling at his side, pulling at
Spencer’s hip until Spencer’s rolled over, half on top of Ryan, weighing him
down against the mattress. Spencer feels too heavy, Ryan’s hipbones sharp
against the fat on Spencer’s stomach, but Ryan clings tight, limbs wrapped like
ivy around Spencer’s body.
“Okay?” Spencer asks, because sometimes Ryan has these plans that he thinks are
perfect and foolproof, and then he puts them into action and it all blows up in
his face, and this seems like it could be one of them.
One of Ryan’s hands moves to Spencer’s hair, toying gently with the strands,
the other drifting in lazy patterns across Spencer’s back. “You’re here,” Ryan
says, and that’s all the answer Spencer could ever need.
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