PatD ficlet: Brendon/Jon/girl!Ryan, R
Brendon/Jon/girl!Ryan
R
900 words
I fail at Battling with Porn. Because this? Not porn. And it didn't even fit the prompt I picked. *hands*
So this is what it's come to: she's standing in the corner of a shitty club with her hand halfway down Brendon's pants, talking low and dirty in his ear, and Jon's watching them from across the room like he knows exactly what she's saying. Hell, he probably does.
Why on earth Brendon should be able to tie them both in knots she's not sure. Brendon is worth caring about, it's just hard to do it sometimes. He gives himself to everybody; you begin to feel like he doesn't give himself to anybody at all.
She and Brendon, they've been doing this for a couple of years now, on and off. It's casual, but it's not. It's as serious as she lets it be, enough that she doesn't like how he looks at other people (doesn't touch, not like he touches her, just looks), except maybe Jon. But even that makes her twitchy and jealous sometimes. Brendon lets Jon take him, but Jon described it once (he was drunk; miserable with it, like she's been miserable) as giving something up, Brendon drawing something vital out of him every time they're together. She can understand that. It's why she sometimes forces Brendon to really see her, to feel her and know her and be surrounded by her. To lose something, too.
Like now: "What if I let Jon fuck me," she says in his ear. There's noise and music and people all around, but the world's focused down to just them. Well, them and Jon, watching like he knows. Her knuckles brush the head of Brendon's cock, and his body goes tight.
"Yeah?" he says, half breathless.
She and Jon, they share Brendon, but not literally. Two and two, not three. And the two that is Ryan and Jon, it doesn't happen. She'd like it to, but she's been biding her time. She's not sure what she was waiting for, though, because nothing in particular has set her off tonight, to change things. Maybe she's just ready.
You could keep doing what you do, she thinks. Giving it all away, and we'd just give it to each other.
"Unless you don't think he would," she says.
Brendon chuckles, warm and knowing, the way that makes something hot shoot down her spine. "Of course he would. What makes you think he's not fucking around with me to get to you?"
It's not like she hasn't thought it, hoped it. But she didn't want to pin too much on the easy chemistry between her and Jon. Maybe she'd like it to stay easy chemistry. And frankly, the fact that they're both the type to get too caught up in slow smiles and dark eyes... Well, that makes her nervous.
When she's the one that goes rigid this time, he chuckles. "No, not just for that. But you could have him. He wants you to have him."
"And you wouldn't mind?"
"Mind? No," he says softly, shaking his head. "Want you to be happy," he says, and she believes him.
He's leaning back against her, twisting his head so she can kiss him if she wants. She wants, but she doesn't.
"Then maybe I won't go home with you tonight," she says, and then her eyes meet Jon's again. She wonders if he can still read her.
"I'll miss you," he murmurs, then so quickly, he spins her and presses her back against the wall, kisses her like he means it. "Will you at least tell me about it?" he asks against her mouth.
"If he says I can."
"If he says? You gonna let him be the boss of you?"
"Nobody's the boss of me, Bren."
"That's why I like you, you know." He tucks a stray piece of hair behind her ear. "Why he likes you, too." Then he leans in and his voice rumbles at her ear: "When we fuck, sometimes we talk about you."
Her face feels hot now, but she ignores it. Instead, she nips at his neck. "What do you say?"
He pulls back enough to smile at her, that smile she loves and hates all at once. "I say," he murmurs with a peck at her mouth, "that you're perfect. And Jon says that makes you too fucking good for me."
"But not for him?"
He gives her a wistful smile, and that's when she realizes he's nervous. He's got no reason to be. She and Jon, they're much more likely to teach each other how to cope with it all than they are to decide they don't need him. She's pretty sure it's only a matter of time before she and Jon are aching for him, so that all these twos become three. And it'll be explosive in every possible sense, the kind of explosive she craves, and Brendon, too, but she worries about Jon.
She catches Jon's eye again and motions him over. As she watches him cross the room, his lazy gait making something warm and heavy settle low in her gut and the cautious determination in his eyes burning her up, she contemplates a lot of things she could say to reassure Brendon. But the words just keep sticking.
Firmly, she says, "I'll take good care of him."
Brendon's eyes are on Jon walking over to them, a gaze proprietary and protective all at once, when he says, "You better."
~
R
900 words
I fail at Battling with Porn. Because this? Not porn. And it didn't even fit the prompt I picked. *hands*
So this is what it's come to: she's standing in the corner of a shitty club with her hand halfway down Brendon's pants, talking low and dirty in his ear, and Jon's watching them from across the room like he knows exactly what she's saying. Hell, he probably does.
Why on earth Brendon should be able to tie them both in knots she's not sure. Brendon is worth caring about, it's just hard to do it sometimes. He gives himself to everybody; you begin to feel like he doesn't give himself to anybody at all.
She and Brendon, they've been doing this for a couple of years now, on and off. It's casual, but it's not. It's as serious as she lets it be, enough that she doesn't like how he looks at other people (doesn't touch, not like he touches her, just looks), except maybe Jon. But even that makes her twitchy and jealous sometimes. Brendon lets Jon take him, but Jon described it once (he was drunk; miserable with it, like she's been miserable) as giving something up, Brendon drawing something vital out of him every time they're together. She can understand that. It's why she sometimes forces Brendon to really see her, to feel her and know her and be surrounded by her. To lose something, too.
Like now: "What if I let Jon fuck me," she says in his ear. There's noise and music and people all around, but the world's focused down to just them. Well, them and Jon, watching like he knows. Her knuckles brush the head of Brendon's cock, and his body goes tight.
"Yeah?" he says, half breathless.
She and Jon, they share Brendon, but not literally. Two and two, not three. And the two that is Ryan and Jon, it doesn't happen. She'd like it to, but she's been biding her time. She's not sure what she was waiting for, though, because nothing in particular has set her off tonight, to change things. Maybe she's just ready.
You could keep doing what you do, she thinks. Giving it all away, and we'd just give it to each other.
"Unless you don't think he would," she says.
Brendon chuckles, warm and knowing, the way that makes something hot shoot down her spine. "Of course he would. What makes you think he's not fucking around with me to get to you?"
It's not like she hasn't thought it, hoped it. But she didn't want to pin too much on the easy chemistry between her and Jon. Maybe she'd like it to stay easy chemistry. And frankly, the fact that they're both the type to get too caught up in slow smiles and dark eyes... Well, that makes her nervous.
When she's the one that goes rigid this time, he chuckles. "No, not just for that. But you could have him. He wants you to have him."
"And you wouldn't mind?"
"Mind? No," he says softly, shaking his head. "Want you to be happy," he says, and she believes him.
He's leaning back against her, twisting his head so she can kiss him if she wants. She wants, but she doesn't.
"Then maybe I won't go home with you tonight," she says, and then her eyes meet Jon's again. She wonders if he can still read her.
"I'll miss you," he murmurs, then so quickly, he spins her and presses her back against the wall, kisses her like he means it. "Will you at least tell me about it?" he asks against her mouth.
"If he says I can."
"If he says? You gonna let him be the boss of you?"
"Nobody's the boss of me, Bren."
"That's why I like you, you know." He tucks a stray piece of hair behind her ear. "Why he likes you, too." Then he leans in and his voice rumbles at her ear: "When we fuck, sometimes we talk about you."
Her face feels hot now, but she ignores it. Instead, she nips at his neck. "What do you say?"
He pulls back enough to smile at her, that smile she loves and hates all at once. "I say," he murmurs with a peck at her mouth, "that you're perfect. And Jon says that makes you too fucking good for me."
"But not for him?"
He gives her a wistful smile, and that's when she realizes he's nervous. He's got no reason to be. She and Jon, they're much more likely to teach each other how to cope with it all than they are to decide they don't need him. She's pretty sure it's only a matter of time before she and Jon are aching for him, so that all these twos become three. And it'll be explosive in every possible sense, the kind of explosive she craves, and Brendon, too, but she worries about Jon.
She catches Jon's eye again and motions him over. As she watches him cross the room, his lazy gait making something warm and heavy settle low in her gut and the cautious determination in his eyes burning her up, she contemplates a lot of things she could say to reassure Brendon. But the words just keep sticking.
Firmly, she says, "I'll take good care of him."
Brendon's eyes are on Jon walking over to them, a gaze proprietary and protective all at once, when he says, "You better."
~