Fic: All We Fear is All that Can Save Us [3/3]

[hidingoutside]

***

Brendon doesn't forget about what he told Ryan, and he's not surprised when Ryan calls him three days later, when he and Ian are dicking around on guitars. "Brendon," Ryan says in his ear, and he sounds about desperate.

"Hey," Brendon says slowly, and he pushes away from Ian. "What do you want?"

Ryan growls a little on the other end, but then he whispers, "I want to see you. I want you to let me come." He doesn't sound embarrassed, so Brendon thinks he's probably home alone.

"What if I don't want to?" he says easily, like this is nothing, like there isn't sweat prickling along his neck at the sound of Ryan's voice.

Ryan whines a little, and now he sounds embarrassed. "Please," he whispers again, and Brendon has to bite his lip, pressing his hand against the crotch of his jeans. He's hard at the begging tone of his voice.

"I can't get away for two nights," he whispers. He and Spencer have an appearance to make, and the night after he agreed to hang out at Pete's, for a dinner party of some kind.

Ryan gasps a little, and Brendon raises his eyebrows. "What are you doing?" he whispers, pressing on his erection again. "Right now."

There's a soft sound on the other end. "Just got out of the shower, and I remembered the last time, when you were here." He breaks off again. "Trying so hard not to touch myself right now, it's kind of ridiculous."

Brendon looks over at Ian, who’s still completely engrossed in whatever chord he's just happened on. He walks out of the room and shuts the door. "Touch yourself," he whispers, "do it slow, not enough to get you off, but enough for me to hear you."

Ryan gasps again, and Brendon strains to hear Ryan's hand moving over his cock, the dry rasp of it. He listens to Ryan, just until he can tell that Ryan's breathing is beginning to speed up, his hand a little faster. "Slow down, Ryan," he whispers. "Slow. I don't want you coming."

"Brendon," Ryan groans softly. "I need to--"

"No, not until I see you." Brendon straightens up a little. "Thursday. On Thursday, I want to see you. I can probably get Spencer and Shane out of the house, if you want to come over--"

"Yes," Ryan pants, and Brendon can hear his hand stop. "Yes, I ca--"

"I didn't tell you to stop," he whispers, and it gives him a thrill through his spine when Ryan whimpers again, and that dry rasp starts again.

Brendon eases himself into the bathroom, pulling his jeans and underwear down in one quick tug, until his cock is free. There's lotion beside his bed, and he rubs it over his cock, wet and fast, and he's loud. He wants Ryan to hear it as he's touching himself, just as Brendon told him.

He comes quickly, and Ryan cries out a little, from the sound of Brendon's orgasm. It's only when he's done, when the aftershocks have dulled, that he asks, "You didn't come, did you?"

It takes Ryan a moment to reply, his voice shaking. "No, no. God, Brendon, please."

"No," he says, and he bites his lip. "I want to see you desperate. I want to see you come after all of this. Thursday."

"Thursday," Ryan agrees, and Brendon waits until his breathing is controlled to hang up the phone and get back to Ian.

Ian blinks at Brendon when he comes back in the room. "Can we go get a burger?" he asks. His eyes are huge and a little bloodshot, and Brendon rolls his eyes.

"Sure," he says, grabbing his hoodie off one of the chairs.

***

It takes a little begging to get both Shane and Spencer out of the house. He has to admit to Spencer that, yes, his steady lay is coming over, and, yes, they are going to be gross and all over each other in places where Spencer can see. And he has to promise Spencer that he won't have sex on the couch (which he immediately recants in his head) and he promises that he'll be able to take Bogart out for his early morning walk.

Shane's easier to convince. He just says, "Gross sex?" and Brendon nods, because Shane's had the misfortune of coming across a spreader bar and cuffs when they were living in Vegas. They weren't even Brendon's, but Brendon had to answer a question and neither of them wants to remember or relive that memory.

"Clean up your shit, yeah?" Shane said before he left, as Brendon started setting up the Chinese takeout. He had a movie already set up in the DVD player, and dinner seemed important somehow, just as something to keep Ryan from getting to sex too quickly. He wanted to see Ryan squirm a bit.

Ryan's late, but that's okay. He just got some friend chicken and white rice, because it was easy to microwave when Ryan showed up, set at their little breakfast nook.

Ryan's wearing a t-shirt and a pair of jeans when he comes in the front door. "Brendon?" he calls, and Brendon watches him come closer. He's not wearing any jewelry except the black leather cuffs, and there is a chain hanging from the left one. He pulls off his shoes at the door, kicking them to the side. "I didn't see Spence's car."

"He's gone, like I said." Brendon makes sure that the laundry room is closed, the dogs penned up for the time being. He'll let them out before he goes to bed, but right now he wants to be able to concentrate on Ryan.

Ryan nods, and he comes closer to Brendon, bending his head down just enough to kiss Brendon's mouth. He wrinkles his nose. "What did you make?"

"Chicken fried rice." Brendon comes around Ryan, directing him to the dinner. "I thought we could eat first." There's a glass of white wine for each of them and a glass of water. "It's hardly all right to keep this up without feeding you."

He shifts a little, and Brendon can see that he's already hard, already wants this all to be over with. "Oh," he whispers.

Brendon pulls out Ryan's chair, wriggling his eyebrows at him. "Just sit, Ross. It's take out. I promise that I didn't make anything."

Ryan bites his lip, but then he sits, picking up a pair of chopsticks and then setting them down again. He grabs a fork next, and he bows his head a little. "I don't think I need to impress you," he says carefully.

"No, Ross. I know you make a mess of yourself," he says with a quick grin. He uses chopsticks himself and prepares to eat his food. His own feet are bare and brush against Ryan's under the table, enough that Ryan looks up suddenly and rolls his eyes.

"When is Jon coming back to town?" he asks pleasantly. He knows that Spencer or Zack told him before, but he cannot remember now. Now he can only stare at Ryan's long, pale neck. He thinks about the collar again, the way it stood out so sharply from Ryan's skin.

"I am going to see him, before Christmas," he says, and he smiles a little. "He's promised me it's going to be freezing there."

Brendon laughs and knocks his feet against Ryan's again. "I guess."

They eat slowly together, quietly, and Ryan is jumpy every time Brendon brushes his foot against his or runs it smoothly along Ryan's calve. He likes seeing Ryan on edge this much, his fingers shaking as he takes an eggroll from a plate.

"I hope you guys find a home soon," he says. He grins at Ryan, and it's only a little painful. "I want you to be as successful as Panic, you know." He chews on his bottom lip. "I think you'll do it."

Ryan shrugs a little. "I don't know if I need that anymore? I'm kinda good like this."

Brendon doesn't mean to, honestly, but he reaches across and takes Ryan's hand, squeezing it. "If only you could manage a dog now."

"Maybe. No more puppies though. Shotgun was almost five when we got her, and she was pretty fucking awesome." Ryan's smile is far away for a moment, and then he shakes his head, telling Brendon a story about one of his new friends, the people he parties with. Brendon kind of hates them, but he thinks Ryan looks lighter, happier than he has in ages.

He shakes his head when the story's over, wrinkling his nose. "You have fun with them?" he doesn't know how to make it sound less bitter.

"They're okay. There's a party tonight, but you said Thursday." Ryan gives a quick, nervous smile before he squeezes Brendon's hand back. He pushes his plate away then. His wine glass is a little over half-empty and he hasn't touched his water. "Please, Brendon," he whispers, and he looks totally desperate in that moment.

Brendon looks at Ryan's plate and then his own, taking another few bites. "I thought we could watch a movie," he says pleasantly, and he reaches into his back pocket, pulling out a blindfold and swinging it on one finger. "Or just listen to it."

Ryan frowns. "I don't know," he whispers, licking his lips. He doesn't step away, though, when Brendon steps closer. "I thought--I haven't--"

Brendon nods, and he kisses Ryan quickly, firmly. "When we started, you said you hadn't been able to trust anyone to do it, and I thought, you know, since it's been so long, that we could try it, but if you don't want to, we don't have to."

Ryan looks at the blindfold again, and he frowns a little. "Have I already seen the movie?" he asks, like that's his major issues with the blindfold.

"Yes," Brendon says, laughing a little. "I wouldn't be that cruel."

Ryan laughs, and then he nods. "Okay," he whispers, and he squares his shoulders, waiting.

Brendon kisses him before he slides the blindfold on, breaking the kiss only to make sure that he has it fastened tightly in the back, so there's no light sneaking from under the smooth fabric. He picked fabric instead of leather. He thought it would look better on Ryan's skin, the dark blue satin against his pale cheeks and his dark hair curling over onto it.

Ryan takes Brendon's hand when he offers it, leading Ryan into the living room where the DVD is all queued up already. He leans against the couch, and he pulls Ryan between his legs, leaning up against his chest as he turns the DVD on.

He knows Ryan's seen it before because they watched it together on the bus, when it was Spencer's turn to pick a movie. He doesn't know how much of X-Men Ryan remembers, and honestly he doesn't care half as much. He keeps stroking Ryan's arms through the opening credits and then his stomach, where his t-shirt is just beginning to ride up.

"Is this one of those superhero movies?" Ryan asks after two minutes, his breathing already quicker. He's shifting in Brendon's hold, like he's trying to coax Brendon to move his hands lower.

He won't, just brushing his fingers over Ryan's stomach and then his arms again, around the cuffs on his wrist. He can see Ryan growing hard through his jeans, the outline of his cock, and he smiles into Ryan's neck, starting to suck a bruise there. Ryan whines a little, and Brendon wants to move his hands lower, but he holds back. He holds back until Cyclops and Storm show up and start kicking ass to touch Ryan's legs, tracing the form of his cock with one finger.

"Please," Ryan breathes and he bucks into Brendon's hands. "Brendon, I don't want to wait."

"Shhh," he whispers, moving one hand back to turn Ryan's head, so he can bite at Ryan's lips. "I want this," he says, as softly as he can. "Want to see you like this."

"Please, Brendon," Ryan pants against Brendon's mouth. "The movie's long, and I want you. Want you to make me--" His words cut off sharply when Brendon brushes his hand over Ryan's cock again, pressing the heel of his hand against Ryan's cock, then moving to cup his crotch.

"You want to come that badly," he says, and Ryan turns his head towards Brendon's voice, like he can see Brendon. His lips are beginning to turn red, from where Ryan's been biting them.

He's whining and wriggling against Brendon, his ass pushed against Brendon's cock, and Brendon's half-hard himself. It's from the wriggling and the desperate panting coming from Ryan, the way his feet are scrambling against the couch. Brendon bites Ryan's neck again, but that's not enough to make him be still.

Neither of them are listening to the movie. Brendon can't look away from Ryan, when he's all but writhing against him, and he has one hand pressed down against his leg, like that's going to hold off his orgasm. Brendon kisses one of the bitemarks and then he grabs Ryan's wrists, over the cuffs.

"You'll do whatever I want," he says into Ryan's ear, and he doesn't care how turned on he sounds, not when Ryan is this desperate and needy. Right now, he's losing control a little, but he doesn't think Ryan notices.

"Yes, yes, yes," Ryan says, and he doesn't seem to notice the sounds he's making, now he can't stop moving, like he needs to keep this going, like he needs Brendon that much more.

He closes his eyes before he kisses Ryan again, and then he slides out from underneath him. The movie's almost half-over; it's better than he could have expected, especially from Ryan, especially when he's so near coming that the front of his jeans feel wet.

Brendon helps Ryan move onto the edge of the couch, with Brendon between his spread thighs. Before he slides down the zipper on Ryan's jeans, he says, "Hold your hands behind your back," and Ryan complies without thinking, without even a questioning noise.

Ryan's so wet at the head that Brendon knows it won't take long for him to come, and Brendon doesn't want to keep him. He doesn't want to hold Ryan back anymore. He swallows down once, only once, and then uses his hand to push Ryan closer. He keeps his mouth around the crown and his tongue against the slit.

He doesn't hum at all, doesn't have to try any tricks with his fingers, to caress Ryan's balls or anything. Ryan's coming quickly, flooding Brendon's mouth, and he doesn't swallow it. He just keeps Ryan in his mouth through all of his orgasm, keeping his hand moving until Ryan's cock stops twitching.

He presses his thumbs into Ryan's thighs when he stands, and Ryan is sitting there, head jerking a little from side to side. He's still trying to see, trying to understand where Brendon is coming from.

Brendon tips Ryan's head back and presses his lips over Ryan's, pushing his tongue between the seam of Ryan's lips. Ryan opens without hesitation, and Brendon begins to push his own come into his mouth. He can feel Ryan relax, the jump through his nerves before he begins to take it. He's not eager, but he's complacent, making hot little noises by the time Brendon's done. Ryan licks at Brendon's tongue and then into Brendon's mouth, trying to take away all of it.

Brendon steps back, and Ryan's shirt is rucked up, his jeans open with his cock hanging out. He tucks Ryan's cock back in, just so it won't rub against his zipper before he helps Ryan stand. "Upstairs," he says, keeping Ryan's hand in his. They walk slowly together, Ryan holding tight to Brendon as they get closer to the bedroom, so he won't trip.

Brendon says, "I won't let you fall," and he means it, before he realizes how fucked that makes him feel.

***

When Ryan's in Chicago, they talk almost every day, and Brendon doesn't know what to make of it. His stomach flutters a little, and he won't let himself think about it. He hates the knowing way Spencer smiles at him when they're packing for New York, when Ryan's still in Chicago.

Sometimes they have phone sex, Brendon telling Ryan to fuck himself with his fingers until he's ready to come, to pretend that it's Brendon fucking him. He tells Ryan all the filthy shit he wants to do to him, stuff that he knows he could never actually do but still make Ryan groan out loud. Sometimes he makes Ryan tell him what he's been thinking about when he's all by himself in Chicago, in between practices.

Usually, though, it's not just sex. They talk about stupid shit, too, and there's a little sniping because they always snipe at each other. But it's not all sniping. He knows that Ryan is smiling on the other end sometimes; Brendon can't stop himself from smiling either.

"You should see all the lights here," he says one night to Brendon, after they've both come. "It's like Santa's Workshop puked in here." There's affection in his voice, like he's really pleased that Jon is still pretty ridiculous. "He's coming over for my New Year's party, he said though. I think that this means I need decorations."

"We'll figure something out," Brendon says, and it's way too casual, except that Ryan laughs a little.

He says, "Yeah," instead of getting indignant and strange about it. "We should do that, after Christmas."

Brendon hangs up that night feeling a little strange in his own skin. He doesn't know if he should talk about this with someone, the thing with Ryan, or if he even wants to. Part of him likes it, though, that it's just between the two of them, that there's no one else offering their advice. He knows this is a horrible idea, and he can't make himself care.

There really isn't time to see Ryan for a scene between his return to LA and Brendon flying off to New York. They get together for lunch instead, and then to see some forgettable movie at an art theatre. Brendon thought it was weird and crappy, and he bases the way Ryan doesn't want to talk about it as meaning Ryan thought it was shitty too.

He kisses Ryan in his car when he drops him off, and they make out for what feels like hours, Brendon's fingers playing over Ryan's throat. Ryan's lips are bitten red by the time he slips out of the car, and he's smiling, sliding a hand over his hair.

Ryan's necklace is still hanging off his rear view mirror, wrapped up so it doesn't hang down quite as far.

There's nothing more that Brendon could want to do than park his car and follow Ryan inside.

He is so, so fucked.

***

He and Spencer get back on the night of the twenty-third, and Spencer grumbles about how he's going to have to drive to Vegas on jetlag. He seems grumpy and put off about it, and Brendon should agree. He should be ready to drive home to have Christmas morning with his parents.

Except in the morning, he calls his mom and fakes sick. He blames the cold in New York, and he promises that he'll try to be there by Christmas dinner. There are over a dozen presents stacked in the back of his Audi, ready for greedy little fingers, but there's another present that he's keeping in his suitcase since he bought it, afraid Spencer would see.

There still isn't a name on the package, because he's so paranoid that someone will know. He's not ready to let Ryan be something public with their friends. Brendon thinks that maybe he and Ryan should talk about it first, and he doesn't know how to just bring it up, throw it out there, Do you think we're dating?

Just because they have been to more than one dinner-and-movies, and there's been one time that they've hung out without sex doesn't mean that there is anything else. He can't be sure, and he knows Spencer is sure that he's hooking up with his regular lay. Brendon just rolls his eyes and says, "I want to say goodbye before I go to see my family."

Ryan comes over before dark on Christmas Eve, and they eat sandwiches while watching shitty cartoon specials. They probably should make it to the bedroom, but Brendon just lays a blanket out over the carpet and fucks Ryan under the tree, with all the lights sparkling. He holds Ryan down on the carpet and makes him beg to come.

After, they don't cuddle close, but Ryan's head is pillowed on Brendon's shoulder. The tree looks neat, the lights on the edges and the crisscrossing fake branches. There's tinsel woven into the tree, the needles of it, and Brendon likes looking into it before Ryan shifts away.

"I got you something," he says softly, and he brings out a huge green bag that Brendon should have noticed come in. There's a glittery penguin dancing with a killer whale on the front, like they're the best friends and the killer whale would never eat the penguin ever.

Brendon wants to say that he shouldn't have, except that it's really nice. He opens the bag and pulls out the wrapped tissue paper packages. He feels strange as he opens them, the tub of surf wax that he knows is his favorite kind, but he can't remember telling Ryan that, then a few kitschy little Hawaiian figurines, statues of Pele and Namaka that could lock together so they were in battle. His throat felt tight. "Thanks," he whispered.

"You were talking a lot about Hawaii during Rockband," Ryan whispered. "I saw these at a store the last time I was there, and it kind of made me think of you then. Now it really does." He gives a shy smile. "I had someone pick them up for me."

Brendon narrows his eyes. "Who?"

"Shane," Ryan says, with a half-embarrassed smile. "I told him they were for a girl I was seeing, and it's almost right, you know? I have other Hawaiian stuff, from when I was there with Keltie, but I thought you should have your own stuff." Ryan isn't meeting his eyes, legs pulled up to his chest.

"Yeah, giving people your ex's stuff is always kind of a shitty move." Brendon bites his lip a little. He didn't want to bring her up, but there's an opening. "Especially Keltie."

Ryan nods, and he swallows a little. "She was really great and I was shitty to her," Ryan whispers. He looks at Brendon for a moment then away again. "It's just... have you ever been in a relationship with someone who wants to give you everything, but it's not enough and you know it's not enough and instead of being a decent person and ending it, you hang on because it's almost enough and there's only a few things left that you can't..." Ryan sighs and rubs his eyes. "I have a whole album of that shit."

Brendon knocks his shoulder against Ryan's, and he doesn't know what Ryan was trying to say. It makes his stomach feel strange again, and it's not in a good way. Ryan's a shitty boyfriend, and he's as much admitted it. He looks at the Christmas lights again, and he sighs. "Yeah," he whispers, because what else can he say. He's never had that, and if he had that, he thinks he wouldn't have worked so hard to lose it.

He doesn't know if he could have survived losing it--or having it taken away from him.

Brendon looks at the package under the tree for Ryan, and he weighs it in his hand before he passes it over to Ryan. "I got that for you in New York," he says, and he looks away from Ryan as he opens it.

It's a collar, soft black leather with one O-ring. It's thicker than the collar Ryan wore to the club, with a silver buckle instead of gold. Ryan is quiet, looking at the leather in his hands, and then the leash that Brendon bought alone with it. "Brendon," he whispers, and he looks at Brendon with huge, dark eyes.

"You said no one ever gave you one," he says back, looking at his hands, at the grit under his nails. "And I thought you deserved one, after everything."

"We have to get up to go to Vegas soon," he whispers. "Less than six hours." Ryan is still touching the soft leather. "We don't really have time."

Brendon wants to say that it doesn't mean what Ryan thinks it does, but it does. He wants that, and he shouldn't because this is Ryan and Ryan breaks everything he's ever cared about. "I know. But I wanted you to have it."

Ryan exhales through his nose and holds the collar up to Brendon. "Can you put it on me, just for tonight? I want to feel it." He keeps his eyes down, then closes them, tipping his face up so Brendon has better access to his throat.

"Yeah," he says, and his hands are shaking a little as he threads the collar onto Ryan, loose enough that he can fit two fingers underneath before he closes the lock. There's a hole in the tongue, where Brendon could lock Ryan in if he wanted, and he wishes he would be able to for a minute.

Ryan cranes his neck a little, and he lets out a low breath. He touches the collar and then looks at Brendon. He's quiet, just breathing and touching the leather, and Brendon tries to push down the feeling of mine that's unfurling his stomach the longer Ryan sits there. He can't think like that. It's stupid of him.

"Wow," Ryan whispers finally, and he looks at Brendon with huge eyes, like he's almost slipping under from just wearing the collar. He kisses Brendon. "Wow," he whispers, pulling back.

"What's it feel like?" He touches Ryan's neck now. His skin has warmed the leather, the O-ring. He's never collared anyone before, and he knows that it's really important--that this is serious business and he shouldn't take it lightly. He doesn't. He can't ignore the way it makes him feel. He wants to fuck Ryan again, bury his teeth into Ryan's neck and maybe hold onto the collar. He wants to make sure that everyone can see that Ryan belongs to someone.

"Like I'm yours," Ryan says, in a soft voice that Brendon can barely make out. "It feels like I'm yours." There's something kind of fearful in his tone, but he's mostly awed, and he kisses Brendon again, firmer and more insistent, and Brendon answers in kind, pushing Ryan back against the floor and rubbing their hips together. They're both hard already, have been since Ryan put the collar on.

He doesn't think about what that means, but he gets Ryan on his hands and knees again, using more lube to make sure that Ryan's slick and open for him and he pushes inside. "Tell me how it makes you feel again," he says, and it feels like cheap porn dialogue except for how hot it makes him feel, like there are a dozen mini-fires under his skin and he can't escape it. All he wants to feel is this, is to push into Ryan and think mine-mine-mine as Ryan pants out, "Yours, yours, yours."

They come together, under the Christmas tree, with the tiny lights reflecting off the sheen of Ryan's sweat.

They're late leaving for Vegas the next day, and Ryan only takes the collar off when they're kissing in front of the cars, when Brendon touches Ryan's throat and remembers that maybe showing up for Christmas dinner with a collar might be too much even for Ryan's family.

***

He goes out to buy decorations for New Years with Ryan, and he might put his hand on Ryan's back while they're shopping. Ryan might lean against him while they're there, while he starts throwing clashing decorations into the buggy. It makes him smile a little, and Ryan's not looking at him directly, just from underneath his eyelashes.

There's no one at Ryan's house, so they decorate together. Ryan orders takeout and Brendon brought over a six-pack, and they fall asleep together in front of Ryan's television. Ryan has a weird green drink that defrosted, and Brendon doesn't mean to curl an arm around his shoulders and pull him closer.

Ryan makes a soft sound, and he pushes his face down, closer to Brendon's neck. Brendon stroked Ryan's back and turned the television down before he rested his head against Ryan's.

***

The day before the New Year's Eve party, Brendon takes Ryan out for cheese fries and beers at the new bar closest to his house. It's nice and Ryan doesn't seem to mind that he's drinking beer, grinning at Brendon when the music booming from the other side of the bar changes to something electronic. It's not even that bad when Ryan gets a call from Jon, saying he's gotten in that night instead of New Year's Eve.

"Spencer's free tonight," he says to Ryan, snagging another cheese fry out of Ryan's basket. He gets up then to get them each another beer, since if Jon's in town, there's no way that they're going back to Ryan's now, which means there's no point in staying totally sober. Besides, he had Ryan Ross drinking Coors Light. He feels like he's made a great step forward.

It still feels like a great step forward two beers later, when they've ordered a plate of nachos and laughing about one of the guys at the bar, in a cowboy hat and honest-to-God cowboy boots. Ryan's the one who notices him, of course, and he's trying to see if the guy's wearing pearlsnaps in a LA sports bar.

The bar's a lot more crowded, but Brendon happens to look over when the music changes, and that's when he sees them: Jon and Spencer walking in. It's barely fifteen minutes into the bar's happy hour and Spencer likes this bar twice as much as Brendon. He likes their burgers more and their wings, but Brendon just had a craving for cheese fries and Ryan picked the takeout place a few days ago.

But now Spencer and Jon are making their way towards the bar, and Ryan is standing up in his chair a little, trying to see better. Neither of them are really drunk, but Ryan on a chair when completely sober would be eye-catching. He's got a tinsel bracelet on and his suit jacket is shinier than usual.

"Ryan," he hisses, and he tries to pull Ryan down, managing to get him to knee Brendon in the chest just as he hears someone say, "Ryan?" in a voice that sounds surprisingly like Jon's.

Ryan stills against Brendon and slides back down into his seat. "Shit, Jon and Spencer are here," he says in the loudest whisper he can manage.

"I know," he says, and he sits at the other end of the table because Jon and Spencer are almost over to them. Ryan looks grey-faced and ill, and he's gripping his beer bottle now.

"Hey," Jon says, and he stands next to Brendon, throwing an arm around his shoulders to draw him close for a second. "Ryan, you should have said you were hanging out with Brendon." He's smiling and happy and fucking clueless.

Brendon takes a glance at Spencer, where he's standing next to Ryan, and he's glaring with his arms crossed tight over his chest. He looks at Brendon with his eyebrows drawn together, like he's figured this all out for himself.

"Brendon," he says, and his tone is sort of cold, almost shocked.

He babbles, "There is nothing going on," before he can think of something else to say, something that actually sounds a little less like Why, yes, I am having an affair with Ryan.

Now Ryan and Spencer are both glaring at him, but Ryan gets out of his chair, offering it to Spencer. "I'm going to the bathroom," he says, and he sounds angry, but there's something troubling about the way he's holding himself, like he's curling around a bruised arm.

Brendon wants to get up with him, but Spencer takes Ryan's seat easily, and he purses his lips. "Ryan?"

Jon steps away from them both, and he's looking between them, a line forming between his eyebrows. "What's going on?" he asks, and he looks confused. He frowns at Brendon, and he sounds almost hurt. "You and Ryan are getting along now?"

"They're fucking," Spencer says, and he taps his finger against the table. "Or at least, they're fucking enough that Brendon kicks me out of the house like twice a week."

Brendon doesn't respond, because his phone goes off in his pocket and he is desperate for a distraction.

It's Ryan, and his text is just you have to piss too, and Brendon doesn't look at Jon as he gets out of his chair. He won't meet either of their eyes as he pushes through the crowd to get to the men's room.

Ryan locks the door after he comes in, and he launches himself at Brendon, kissing Brendon and walking him back towards the only sink. There's a single stall and two urinals, and he knows the entire bathroom is empty for Ryan to be pushing this, kissing him like he can't breathe without Brendon this close.

Brendon tries to pull Ryan away, to see if he's okay, except Ryan won't let him go. He kisses Brendon with his hands balled in the fabric of Brendon's shirt and his knee between Brendon's legs. "Please," he breathes, and Brendon can feel him shaking just a little too much. Something's really, really wrong, but when he gets Ryan pulled away just enough to see his face, Ryan's head is bowed so his hair is covering his eyes.

He drops to his knees on the grimy floor, and he presses his face close to Brendon's crotch. He's still whispering, "Please," breathing into the cloth.

"Ryan," Brendon whispers, and he brushes a hand over Ryan's hair. "I don't know if this is a great idea."

Ryan shakes his head, and he keeps nuzzling at Brendon's cock. "Please, Brendon. I want you to fuck my mouth. Right here. I need you to do it when anyone could come in and see us, see how much I want to be on my knees for you. I want you to need me for that."

Brendon worries at his lip, looking at the door. No one's tried to come in yet, but he knows that won't last. He knows that Spencer and Jon have to know where they are, and what they're doing if they stay in here much longer. He strokes Ryan's hair again, and Ryan whines softly, pressing his face to Brendon's crotch again.

Ryan needs this, and Ryan's asked him for it, and they have time. They're not totally drunk, even drunk enough that this is a problem, but they're loose and it's just a blowjob. Ryan's given him dozens by now.

It still feels like a bad idea, though, and he knows he shouldn't let Ryan push him like this. He's only human, though, and Ryan's mouth breathes hot air directly onto Brendon's cock every time he says, "Please, Brendon, please," and he feels himself starting to get hard.

He pushes Ryan away a little, but he doesn't want to move. He wants to keep pressing his mouth on Brendon's erection, even when Brendon pulls at his hair. Ryan whines, and it takes Brendon pulling as hard on Ryan's hair as he can, just enough to he can manage to slap Ryan's face and Ryan starts, slumping back a little.

Brendon slapped Ryan a little too hard, and his fingertips buzz from the impact, but when he looks at Ryan, Ryan's mouth is open and he's already bitten his lips red and wet. Ryan's ready for it, before Brendon pulls his jeans and underwear down. His cock isn't quite hard yet, but Ryan comes in to take it, letting it hit against his lips before he opens his mouth and he takes Brendon in between his lips.

He looks at Ryan, and Ryan makes a whimpering sound around Brendon's cock, before he lets it fall out of his mouth. "Please, Brendon. I need this," he whispers, and he pushes himself closer. He's panting for it, except that his breathing seems too fast. He doesn't get a chance to see Ryan's face again before Ryan's swallowing him down. He's trying to use every trick to make Brendon's hips buck and push his cock further into Ryan's mouth.

Brendon strokes Ryan's hair, and this time he knows he's shaking. It's not okay, his breathing awkward and shuddering in a way that makes Brendon's blood feel cold. He tugs on Ryan's hair, enough to pull him away and actually look at Ryan's face.

Ryan's eyes are huge, and they look fucking scared, and he licks over his lips twice before he rocks back onto the gross bathroom floor. "Camus," he says, and it's like a switch has been flipped inside Brendon. He stills and pulls back.

He takes his hand out of Ryan's hair and steps away from him, turning a bit to shove his cock back onto his underwear and his jeans. He means to turn and see if Ryan's okay, put his hand on Ryan's shoulder, but Ryan's already up off the floor.

He's off the floor and stumbling back, and he won't meet Brendon's eyes as he stumbles out into the bar. It's impossible to follow him at first, Ryan ducking into a sea of broad shouldered men and their girls while Brendon's trying to run and zip his fly at the same time. His heart is pounding, and all he can think is fuck, fuck, fuck because he's fucked this up. He did something and made Ryan bolt.

Brendon catches sight for Ryan pushing out of the front door when he gets to the table were he left Jon and Spencer. He tosses two twenties and the keys to his Audi on the table next to Jon. "Take my car," he says, and he doesn't even look back at Spencer. He doesn't want to get a lecture or a glare or even Spencer mocking the shit out of him.

At this point, he deserves all three, but he's more concerned with getting to Ryan now.

***

Finding Ryan isn't hard. He's beside his car, and he's shaking and trying to get his keys into the door of his car. His hands are shaking too bad, though, and he keeps dropping them on the sidewalk beside the car. He's still shivering and shaking, and he's saying, "Fuck, fuck, fuck," the way Brendon's mind was running through it.

Brendon stops running when he finds him, and he approaches slowly--like he's afraid that Ryan'll start and run off, like he's a scared animal. His hands are shaking again, and he cowers against the car before he begins digging through his car keys again, to pick out the right key to get him in the car.

Brendon crouches down beside Ryan and takes the keys gently, hitting the remote to unlock the doors. "Let me drive you home," he whispers. He doesn't push a kiss against Ryan's forehead, but the instinct is there. He wants Ryan to look less fragile.

"Okay," Ryan says, and he pulls away to go into the passenger's side, sliding down a little in the seat. He doesn't look at Brendon, curled up and his mouth set in an angry line.

Brendon sighs and gets the car out of the parking spot. "Do you want to go back to your place or mine?"

Ryan just shrugs, looking out the window. "Doesn't matter." He has his eyes closed, head against the window. It's the last thing he says until Brendon pulls up outside his house. He gets out first, and then opens Ryan's door.

"You don't have to do this," he says, and there's something almost like anger warming his words, like he wants to fight but can't bring up the energy for it.

Brendon smiles and he doesn't touch Ryan, just closes the car door behind him and presses the button to lock it. "I kinda do, Ryan. And if I didn't have to, I'd still want to." He wants to touch Ryan's hair so badly, just connect with him again, but he keeps his hands to himself, tucked into his suit pockets.

He follows Ryan up into the house, letting Ryan unlock the front door. He can hear Alex and Eric fucking around in the music room and Jon's bags are piled in the hallway. They don't go investigate, just going straight to Ryan's bedroom. Brendon watches him shuck off his suit jacket and the bracelets around his wrist before he sits down on the bed.

Ryan falls back against it, arms spread out and he sighs. "I just want to sleep for a year," he says softly.

Brendon thinks that maybe this is his moment, and he's careful as he walks over to Ryan's bed, undoing his shoes and taking them off, then his socks. He gets Ryan's belt off, so he won't have to sleep with the buckle digging into his stomach, and then he pulls at the comforter, so he can lay it over Ryan, tucking him in.

They sit in silence for what feels like hours; Brendon watches the clock, and he sees that it's only been ten minutes, maybe eleven, and it feels like a lie. "Do you want to talk about it?" he asks, his hand close enough that he could stroke Ryan's ankle. His fingers itch with the want to touch. It's weird to think that he can't touch Ryan now.

Ryan shifts in bed, and then he shifts again. He doesn't say no, but he doesn't say yes. Right now, Brendon doesn't feel comfortable trying to push him for an answer, like any tricks he could use would just be taking advantage of Ryan or pushing him when he can't take it. The fact that the idea even sprung up in his brain makes him sick.

He sighs and turns his head so he can see Ryan's eyes, where they're glinting in the dim light of the room. "We could not talk about it right now, if you want." he says, and he smiles a little.

Brendon gets up and he slides into the bed so he can face Ryan, on top of the covers. Their hands are almost touching. "I don't want to push you into anything you wouldn't want, Ryan. I couldn't do that to you."

And, very carefully, he starts running the tips of his fingers over Ryan's wrists, until he feels a little bit of the tension seep out of Ryan, when he looks a little less on edge and guarded. Ryan hasn't looked that guarded near him in months, and he feels a rush of relief when it floods out of Ryan's face.

Finally, he takes one of Ryan's hands and presses a kiss to the back of it. "It's okay. We can talk later, when you feel better."

He starts to slide from the bed, but Ryan's fingers curl around his hand fast. "Are you going to be here when I wake up?" Ryan asks, and he's sitting up now, the tension back in his shoulders. He looks wild and scared, but worse, he looks utterly beaten, like that question has all but destroyed him.

Brendon squeezes Ryan's hand back and he shifts back, so he can see Ryan's face clearer. "Is that what you want?" he whispers.

"I want you to stay," Ryan whispers, and he opens his mouth to explain or to qualify or maybe to ask for something else, and Brendon doesn't want to hear it. He's heard enough. He squeezes Ryan's hand again before he presses a kiss against Ryan's forehead.

He leaves the bed long enough to take off his own shoes and belt and to duck into the bathroom to take out his contacts in the case that he's put in Ryan's bathroom, when it was beginning to be too much of a pain in the ass to remember to wear glasses every time he was stopping over or to bring his contacts shit.

Brendon doesn't really think about it when he gets back into Ryan's bed, curling along his back over top of the covers, his left hand soothing down Ryan's side. He doesn't think about his contacts, but when he reaches over to turn off Ryan's bedside lamp, he realizes that Ryan has an extra set of reading glasses in Brendon's bedroom, and that makes him smile.

***

He wakes up before Ryan, and he can smell bacon downstairs and hear Spencer laughing. He blinks and sits up enough to look around the room, at the weird assortment of ties and scarves that are hanging from every available surface and the green guitar in the corner. There are pictures of the band on the ball and bedside table, but they're different than the ones that Brendon has up. There's a picture of a young man in full military dress on the dresser, and he's smiling. It's a different smile than Ryan's, but he can see Ryan in the man's dark eyes.

Brendon feels weird looking at Ryan's father, years before Ryan was even born, when he's curled around Ryan and stroking his hair. He kisses Ryan's temple and closes his eyes again.

He dozes until he feels Ryan stirring beside him, making a soft sound before he blinks his eyes open. Ryan murmurs in his sleep, and it's one of the things Brendon always thought was kind of cute, the little half-sensical ramblings, even when he wanted to punch Ryan in the face for being an asshole.

Brendon kisses Ryan until he's awake enough to kiss back, their lips soft against each other and mouths tasting odd. Neither of them brushed their teeth the night before, and it's weird and gross, but Brendon doesn't care. He likes waking up and kissing Ryan like this, in the rumpled clothes that smell like bar.

Ryan breaks the kiss first, and he smiles at Brendon sheepishly, and when he stops smiling, he just looks kind of sleepy and sorry, his eyes soft and lips curving upward. "I'm sorry about last night," he whispers, and then he kisses Brendon again.

He shakes his head and pulls back, frowning. "There's nothing to be sorry about. It's not your fault I picked Spencer's new favorite bar or that--"

"No, about safewording," Ryan says, and he's so soft that Brendon almost misses it under the rustle of the sheets as Ryan starts pulling away.

Brendon shakes his head again, and he puts both hands on either side of Ryan's head. "You have nothing to be sorry for," he says. "You did nothing wrong."

Ryan blinks, and he swallows. "I fucked up--I shouldn't have asked"

He nods, pressing their foreheads together. "And I fucked up, because I couldn't give you what you needed, and I knew it was a bad idea. I'm just," he swallows a little, and he doesn't know why his heart is beating this fast. "I'm just glad that you knew enough to safeword. Sometimes, you scare me."

Ryan laughs softly, and he kisses Brendon, slow and languid like they're alone in the house and they have all the time in the world. "I scare me too, how much I need this sometimes." He takes a soft breath, and then he whispers, "How much I need you sometimes."

It makes Brendon warm for a split second, the warmth spreading along his toes and arms, and he can't stop smiling before he presses his mouth to Ryan's. "I love you," he whispers, and he means it. He's always loved Ryan, but it's different like this, the two of them wrapped up in Ryan's ridiculously expensive sheets with his ties hanging around them like vines. "I'm in love with you."

"Oh," Ryan says, and he shifts so he's somehow closer to Brendon, their hips aligned and he pushes against Brendon, so he can feel Ryan's cock against his own. He's stupidly hard already, even if he hasn't had a chance to piss. "I'm in love with you too," Ryan says, and he's smiling wide enough that their kiss is awkward. "It makes me crazy, but I don't think I go on without you."

Brendon laughs, and his chest feels light. He pushes Ryan down on the bed under him, and he starts to slip Ryan's zipper down, because he's hard--they both are--and Brendon just wants to feel him. Their skin is sleep warm, and it's all smooth practiced motions as they undress each other, until Ryan is pushing Brendon's jeans down and Ryan's already naked under him.

He remembers as an after-thought, because he was going to do it as soon as they got into the house last night. He stops Ryan to grab the collar out from his pocket, and Ryan feels the brush of leather against his skin. He shivers, but he keeps undressing Brendon, their mouths sliding together.

Brendon gets the collar around Ryan's neck with only a little fumbling, gets it fastened, and he says, "Mine," into Ryan's mouth, and he says it again when Ryan groans back, "Yours."

There's lube and condoms close at hand, and Brendon wastes no time getting Ryan ready, his chest to Ryan's back so he can kiss along Ryan's neck and Ryan can suck at his fingers. He bites at the back of Ryan's neck when he's got three fingers in because he knows Ryan likes a lot of fingers now, that Ryan almost likes being fingered open more than he likes the fucking, but then Ryan's mouthing, "Fuck me," against Brendon's hand, and he can't not do it now.

He slides slick over himself before he reaches around to start to stroke Ryan, fucking into him. It's not fast or heated, nothing to push them over the edge too quickly, but it feels different. His hips are moving in a shallow but slow rhythm. Ryan's moaning, and Brendon knows that he's not quiet either. He doesn't care that he knows Spencer and Jon are downstairs, that Eric and probably Greenwald could be home.

Ryan comes before he does, and he gasps Brendon's name. It's hot over Brendon's fingers and on the sheets, on Ryan's stomach, and Brendon trails his fingers back, to where Ryan's open for him and where Brendon's cock is sliding in and out, rubbing around it to make Ryan cry out as he presses his lips to the collar. "Yours," Ryan whispers again, without prompting, and Brendon feels that heat that's been building below his stomach coil tight and explode, so he's coming with his hips fitted up against Ryan's, like they're interlocking puzzle pieces.

He doesn't want to move enough to throw the condom away. Ryan's trashcan is across the room, and it feels like an injustice. He rolls away enough to get it off the bed, and he doesn't care that Ryan laughs and calls him a disgusting pig. He knows Ryan well enough to know that he has at least two science experiments in this room, plates left in dark corners to gain sentience.

Ryan rolls over again, and they're kisses, fingers skating across each other's hips, and they need to start the day soon. Brendon can't bring himself to move away from Ryan, though, and Ryan doesn't seem to want to move either. Brendon thinks he could learn to like this.

He could even learn to like Spencer knocking on the door before he pushes it open, coming in with his best glare before he rolls his eyes at them. "I'm making pancakes and bacon with mocking. Come get it now, or else I'm really going to have time to think about what I'm pretty sure my parents in Vegas heard." He throws a balled up shirt from Ryan's dresser at them. "Seriously, guys."

Ryan throws his pillow back, sitting up enough that Spencer has to see the collar. "Go away, Spencer," he says, but he's smiling and he actually looks happy and relaxed and Brendon's chest feels swollen but tight when he looks back at Brendon with that smile.

Spencer just looks at the collar and says, "So, so much mocking." He tosses the pillow back, but he's not too much of a douche. He still closes the door behind him.

Ryan falls back against the bed, and he smiles at Brendon again before he leans over to kiss Brendon again. Brendon bites at Ryan's bottom lip and then his jaw, feeling Ryan's laughter shake through him, and he thinks that maybe this is actually going to be okay.