Here Be Dragons
Title: Here Be Dragons
Author: Telis (theaerosolkid)
Rating: NC-17
Pairing: Brendon/Ryan
Summary: Time travel fic! adellyna and foxxcub both did Jon/Spencer time travel fics, and, um, I like my OTP, so there you have it.
Word Count: 6083
Disclaimer: Fake, fake, fake.
A/N: Happy birthday to me! Thanks to notshybutsly for the beta, and adellyna for stroking my ego :)
*
"I'm not that innocent," Brendon sing-songed absentmindedly, and Ryan scowled at him.
Because, really, that was sort of the problem.
*
Ryan lets himself in the house as quietly as he can. The back door's unlocked, and he takes a moment to suck in a deep breath and hope Brendon's better at locking the front door. It's dark inside, and the only noise is coming from upstairs, something classical. Ryan thinks it's probably Vivaldi, but can't be sure.
Right now the issue is whether he should walk heavily to announce his presence or quietly so as to surprise Brendon. It's probably better to surprise him. He's alone, and probably not too comfortable with that fact.
*
But, really.
Logically, Ryan should have been much better at the whole sex thing than Brendon was. Because Brendon was kind of a goof, and a bit of a moron at times, and also Mormon. He wasn't even allowed to date girls in high school.
It did not make any fucking sense at all. The first time they were fooling around, it really should have been sort of awkward and fumbly on Brendon's part. Ryan had it all planned out: Brendon would grab for his crotch and get a handful of hipbone instead. And then he'd blush and bite at his lip and maybe laugh a little, and then Ryan would kiss him and smile reassuringly, and then they'd get naked and it would be really great, okay, because Brendon was pretty gorgeous and all that. Anyway, so they'd be naked and then Brendon would hesitate a bit and Ryan would say, That's all right, and show Brendon what he liked, and Brendon would pick up on it soon enough but not, like, right away, and then they'd have lots of sex and every step of the way, Ryan would be the one saying, Yep, that goes there, and Nope, little to the left, please.
Where it had probably gone astray was the part where Ryan had kind of studiously ignored the fact that the sum total of his experience with the hornier sex was a lot of unsatisfying dry-humping at shows and maybe half of a blowjob gotten in the bathroom at one of the aforementioned shows back in Vegas. His viewpoint was that Brendon was the dweeby one, and he was the one who had a better fuck, which he completely did, so what the hell.
Because the first time they were really fooling around not only did Brendon actually manage to grab his dick on the first try, he was good enough at the whole groping-through-jeans thing that something like a minute and a half later Ryan was choking out a stuttering breath and coming, gripping at Brendon's shoulders. Probably the worst part was how totally unsurprised Brendon was. He just kissed Ryan again, a little softer, and guided Ryan's hand to the zipper on his stupid ill-fitting jeans and had to help Ryan get his jeans open and his cock out, and then even though he finished quickly, it was still pretty fucking irritating.
*
Ryan pauses at the hallway, trying to remember. It's 2003, he thinks, which means that Brendon's got his own room by now, okay. The door's open and the lights are out -- the only thing helping Ryan see is the faint glow from the streetlights.
He makes his way into Brendon's bedroom, where a CD player on the floor by his bed is still playing that same lilting classical music. Brendon's curled up under just a sheet with the rest of the blankets kicked to the foot of the bed. That makes sense: it's September, still scorchingly hot in Vegas. Ryan's surprised he's even sleeping under a sheet. Ryan's surprised he's sleeping in clothes at all. Nobody else is home, and they won't be until halfway through the next day. If it were Ryan, he'd be sleeping naked downstairs, where it's cooler. As it is, there's a fan aimed right at Brendon's bed, and it's mostly just serving to move hot air around.
Ryan takes a minute to watch Brendon sleep. He's so -- he's so young, and Ryan almost reconsiders. Brendon's face is rounder, slack with sleep and his hair is darker, the product of a cheap dye job to cover up the bleach he'd grown sick of a few months earlier. His haircut is even more juvenile than the one he had when he met Ryan. It's a little longer, a little too even, like his mother trimmed it too carefully. She might have. Brendon takes a deep breath and shifts in his sleep, and Ryan's breath hitches again. He looks smaller, Ryan thinks. Brendon's shorter than Ryan as it is, but he must have grown a few inches by the time his senior year of high school started. He must have, because he's definitely not this short now. Or. In the future. It's a little confusing, trying to figure out even in his own mind how to compare the Brendon sleeping in front of him to the Brendon who's sleeping back in (up in?) 2007, unsuspecting.
Ryan takes a deep breath and sits at the edge of the bed, feels the warmth from Brendon's small body.
*
"Have you ever done this before?" Brendon asked him the next time, with Ryan on his knees nosing at Brendon's cock through his jeans.
"No," Ryan said after a beat. Brendon grinned at him and tugged him upwards.
"Here," he said. "Let me, okay?"
And then he'd knelt and sucked the head of Ryan's cock into his mouth, and, okay, he was actually really good at this, smooth and practiced. Coordinated, even, with the way his hand was twisting over Ryan's cock in time with the gentle sucking. Ryan bit his lip and tried to not push into Brendon's mouth, but then Brendon was taking him deeper like it was nothing, and okay, that was kind of confusing.
Also kind of hard to focus on. It didn't take long for Ryan to come, and Brendon swallowed neatly with the ease of practice before standing up and kissing Ryan's cheek.
"You don't have to," he said as Ryan dropped back to his knees, opened Brendon's jeans with determination.
"I want to," Ryan said.
Brendon chuckled softly, "Okay."
And the whole time, it was kind of like gentle nudging from Brendon, urging him to take a little more or back off or suck a bit harder or just at the tip or maybe use his tongue a little and guiding Ryan's hands to fondle his balls, telling him to be more gentle down there, thanks, and it was really helpful and informative and Ryan certainly felt more capable of giving a proper blowjob when it was all over but that didn't change the fact that a) Brendon had been the one to help him again and b) he didn't quite manage to swallow it all.
Which was just kind of stupid.
*
The CD finishes with a click. Ryan strokes at the nape of Brendon's neck, and he stirs.
"Mom?" Brendon mumbles out, and Ryan chuckles.
"No," he murmurs. "Wake up."
Brendon jolts awake then, "Wha --"
"Shh, it's okay," Ryan soothes.
"Who are you?" Brendon asks, eyes wide. "How did you get in? What -- what's going on?"
"I'm Ryan," he says calmly. "It's okay, I'm not -- I'm not here to hurt you or kidnap your or steal something or whatever."
"Oh. Um. But --"
"You left the back door unlocked," Ryan explains.
"Oh. Dammit," Brendon says, sounding bewildered.
"I hope you locked the front," Ryan says.
"Yeah-huh," Brendon says. "Um. So. Ryan, right?" A nod. "Can you, um. Can you tell me what you're doing, um, here?"
"Um," Ryan says. "Well. So this is kind of awkward."
"Little bit," Brendon says, frowning a little, sitting up and sliding away from Ryan. Ryan hands him his glasses, and Brendon takes them cautiously. Even his frames are younger, thinner. They don't fit his face, even this rounder face Ryan's not familiar with, has only seen in pictures.
"I'm from the future," Ryan says after a deep breath. "You know me. We're in a band together."
Brendon doesn't say anything. Ryan chances a look in his direction, but Brendon's expression is unreadable.
"Are you okay?" Brendon asks carefully after a pause. "There's a really good rehab facility kind of close to here, I can drive you, if you want. Or, we could talk. About, you know, the future. But if you've taken something we should probably get you to the ER. In case something gets you messed up."
"I'm not on anything," Ryan says irritably.
Brendon does not look convinced.
"Here," Ryan says, reaching into his back pocket. He hands the photo to Brendon. It's not a particularly special picture, just one Jon took casually up in the cabin a few months ago. He and Brendon are setting up some instruments, the picture was taken the day they got up to the cabin and Brendon's mugging for the camera with a tambourine in one hand and an acoustic 12-string in the other. Ryan's standing next to him, rolling his eyes.
Brendon squints at the picture, then glances up at Ryan. He considers, then leans in and flips the lightswitch close to his bed, and takes a closer look at Ryan.
"Weird," he breathes. "Is that -- is that me?"
"Yep," Ryan says. "It was taken a couple months ago. In my time. So, um, about four years from now."
"How -- ?"
"Don't worry about that one, it'll just make your head hurt," Ryan advises.
"Wow," Brendon breathes. Ryan pretty much agrees.
*
The first time they actually Did It (the way Ryan thinks of it), you know, Had The Sex (the way Spencer describes it), they had been in a hotel room and they'd been grinding against each other fully clothed, and then Ryan said, "Hey, maybe," and Brendon had looked a little skeptical but still had worked his jeans off and slicked his fingers up with cheap hotel lotion and pressed just the tip of one into Ryan.
"Have you ever -- ?" Brendon asked quietly, and Ryan shook his head.
"Not -- not like this," he whispered as Brendon pushed another finger in, deeper this time. Something had darkened in Brendon's gaze, something that made it harder to ask, "You?"
"Yeah," Brendon said quietly after a pause. "Just -- let me take care of you, okay?"
And that had been that, really, Brendon rolling him over to his hands and knees before bracing hands on his hips and pushing in gently, and it had hurt a lot, which Ryan had been expecting, because, well, Brendon's dick in his ass, um, ow, but only up to a certain point and it was hurting kind of a lot more than Ryan had been led to believe it would.
"Are you okay?" Brendon asked, and Ryan nodded, winced. "It'll get better," he said, reassuringly, and Ryan sort of had to believe him because apparently Brendon knew about a metric fuckton more about sex than Ryan, which was -- infuriatingly enough -- simultaneously unfair and convenient.
And, yeah, it was good and everything, Ryan had ended up loving it, as soon as his body really got used to the stretch and press of it, pushing back into Brendon's thrusts and babbling incoherent pleasure.
Which didn't change the fact that Brendon had talked him through it. Talked him through it like he was a high school girl on prom night. What the fuck.
*
"So, we're really in a band?" Brendon asks eagerly. "Like, a real one? Do we have a record deal? Tell me we have a record deal."
"Yeah, we won a VMA last year," Ryan says. "Or, well. Anyway, we won a 2006 VMA."
"Wow," Brendon says again. "When do I get to meet you?"
"In about a year," Ryan says. "It's going to be very weird for a while."
"Why's that?" Brendon asks, squinting.
Ryan had promised himself that he wouldn't get involved in anything really serious, he was just here to -- well. But anyway, he'd decided he definitely wasn't going to warn Brendon about the band thing and how rough the back half of his senior year was going to be and all of that. Because that was all Brendon's stuff to deal with, not his.
"Just take my word for it," Ryan says. "I mean. You're going to think I don't like you, but I will. Um. Did. Do. I do like you."
"We're good friends in the future?" Brendon asks. He looks so young, so eager.
"More than that," Ryan says, catching his eye and trying to tell him without saying it. Brendon looks confused, then realization dawns.
"Oh," he says quietly. He bites his lip, and all Ryan wants to do is kiss him, see what's the same, see what's different, see what he missed out on.
*
"So," Ryan said one night while they were both sated and twisted up in bedsheets. "This is kind of a weird question."
"Sure," Brendon said easily. "Wouldn't want anything else from you, Ross."
Ryan snorted. "Who -- I mean. The sex thing. I didn't think you had. You know."
"Well," Brendon said. "Um, it was mostly junior year. Like. I had this big lame gay crisis over the summer after sophomore year and then I kind of got over it and then. I kind of stopped making a big deal out of it, and then things just kind of started...happening." Ryan blew out huff of breath. "Is that...okay?"
"It's fine," Ryan said. "I just. Wasn't expecting it."
"What, that I'd have rocking awesome moves?" Brendon asked with a grin.
"Pretty much," Ryan said.
"Gee, thanks a lot, Ross," Brendon said, but he sounded amused. Ryan sighed.
"It's just -- I don't know. You're a lot more. Than me."
"I don't mind," Brendon said right away. "Ryan, don't -- it's not. I really don't care. I like helping you. I really do. I like being your first, with all this stuff."
And that was a nice sentiment and all, but Ryan didn't know how to tell Brendon that he didn't want it that way. He wanted them to be each others' firsts, and that was kind of lame and pretty girly, so he didn't say it. But he thought about it. A lot.
*
"So," Brendon says, sitting cross-legged, closer to Ryan. He leans in a little, like he's unsure, and Ryan finds it so thoroughly endearing that he can't do anything other than shift closer and kiss Brendon.
Brendon's surprised, but he gets into it quickly, opening his mouth and kissing back, and it's a little sloppier than what Ryan's used to with him, enthusiasm and sleep-mouth but still so, so good. Brendon doesn't seem to know what to do with his hands, so Ryan laces their fingers together, and Brendon lets him, which is sort of a novelty. Because his Brendon would find that hilarious, very middle school, and probably tease Ryan about it, and he'd be good-natured about it but it would still sting. And Ryan's not even sure what he'd do if Brendon were to hold his hand like this, intimate and almost innocent in the earnestness of the gesture, and it's so nice to appreciate the subtle way Brendon's palms are warm and a bit damp against him, Ryan can tell he's nervous.
It's a good nervous, though, a thrilling sort of nervous, a daring sort of nervous, and this is what Ryan wanted the first time he kissed Brendon. Discovery and exploration and something new, and it was still new and everything, but it wasn't like he was behind.
Brendon tilts his head away and keeps his eyes closed, forehead still leaning against Ryan's. "Wow," he whispers.
Ryan smiles and cups his cheek, kisses him again, slower this time, instructing. Brendon follows his lead and sucks on his tongue, gently, a little too much so.
Brendon pulls away again, and Ryan's a little taken aback, but then Brendon's biting on his bottom lip and looking at Ryan kind of hesitatingly. "How long are you here for?" he asks shyly.
"A while," Ryan says. "I need to leave before your parents get back."
"So the rest of the night, at least," Brendon presses, and Ryan nods.
"Here," Ryan says, and nudges Brendon aside so he can lie on his back. He spreads his legs a bit and lets Brendon settle between them, nuzzles at his throat before pulling Brendon into another kiss. Brendon moans quietly and grinds down a bit, grows a bit inattentive to the movements of his mouth over Ryan's, and Ryan wraps his legs around Brendon, urges him on a bit. Brendon starts rocking down against him, somewhat clumsily, and Ryan feels a shiver of excitement at how eager Brendon is, because his Brendon would never be this quick to get so enthusiastic. His Brendon would pin him down with more precise force and make Ryan whimper for it.
Which is nice, really, but this is -- it's sort of tantalizing, seeing how this younger Brendon reacts to him, and there's a sort of desperation in Brendon's body that Ryan loves. "You can make noise," he breathes out. "Nobody's home but us, it's all okay."
Brendon grunts, high-pitched and needy, and Ryan arches up to meet him, bites at his earlobe, and that's apparently enough for Brendon: he shudders and comes with a strangled groan. It's an ugly, rough noise, young and inexperienced and Ryan knows it's the very first time Brendon has allowed himself to make any sort of noise when he comes.
"Sorry," Brendon says right away, and he's so embarrassed, and it's actually really. It's so sweet, and just what Ryan wanted and wants and he just kisses Brendon again and smiles when he pulls away.
"No worries," he says. "But you should probably get undressed." Brendon's eyes go wide at this and he moves away, jerkily, eyes on Ryan as he reaches for the hem of his shirt and pulls it off. Ryan presses a soft kiss to his chest, narrower and paler than he's used to before leaning back and unbuttoning his shirt.
"Um," Brendon says, and he's sort of shy and cautious again, and, fuck, Ryan wants to suck on his collarbone and listen to him whine and plead for more. "Can I -- ?" He gestures vaguely at Ryan, and Ryan smiles and drops his hands, nods and lets Brendon finish pulling his shirt off. When he's done with that, Brendon reaches down and starts fumbling with Ryan's belt, and Ryan grins wider and helps him a little.
Brendon dips his head down and kisses Ryan's stomach hesitantly, like he doesn't know if that's something people do when they're half-naked and wanting. A shiver chases through Ryan at the action, because his Brendon does exactly this every time: kisses just beneath his ribs and while he kisses harder and more confidently than this Brendon does, the action is the same and it's the strangest sense of déjà vu. It's hard to think about, a little, the idea that the specificity of that small kiss is familiar for him and yet entirely new for Brendon.
Ryan shakes his head to clear it and rolls back, peeling his jeans off. Brendon stares at him, eyes wide and cheeks flushed, and there's something like worship written in the line of his jaw. Ryan smiles again -- can't stop -- and Brendon presses his lips together, tight, and looks away as he pulls his pajama pants off, drops them to the floor. Ryan settles back again and pulls Brendon over him, shivers when Brendon gasps at the feel of their cocks lining up. Ryan kisses him, and it's slower this time, a little less wonder. Ryan misses the wonder already.
He pulls back, asks, "What do you want?"
Brendon bites at his lip. "I want -- I want to make you. Um. I want to do something for you."
"Anything specific?" Ryan presses, and Brendon goes redder.
"Can I -- like. Um. Blowjob, maybe?" Ryan nuzzles at him.
"I'd like that," he says, truthfully, and Brendon pulls back a bit, settles down.
"I don't know exactly," he confesses, and Ryan shrugs.
"I'll help you," he says, trying to keep the anticipation out of his voice. "Just. Get your hand around it, and kind of -- yeah, like that."
Brendon's got good instincts, even this young, leaning in to lick at the tip tentatively, as though he's not sure he'll like the taste. It seems to go down fine, though, and he takes the head into his mouth and gives an experimental suck. It's good, a little too soft, but Ryan sighs happily anyway, because it's clear that Brendon's trying hard, being so careful. He builds up something like a rhythm with his mouth, his hand still just curled loosely around the base.
It's not quite what Ryan was expecting from him -- more spastic energy, maybe, but Brendon's cautious and it's kind of adorable. Which is sort of a strange thought to have when the teenage version of your partner is sucking your cock, but at that moment Brendon figures out that moving his hand might feel good, and he stumbles with coordinating for a moment, but manages to get it together, and Ryan closes his eyes, relaxes into the easy flow of pleasure. Ryan curls fingers into Brendon's hair, coarser and shorter and Brendon makes a pleased noise around his cock.
"Good," Ryan whispers. "That's really -- really good. See if you can take a little more."
Brendon opens his mouth a little, slides down Ryan's cock and takes a bit too much, has to pull away and breathe a little harder. "Sorry," he whispers, and Ryan shakes his head, tries to say something, but then Brendon's sucking him down again, more confident this time, and it's better, tighter, quicker, more enthusiastic, and this is more like it. This is -- Brendon, young and excited and happily suckling at his cock, making soft little noises. Ryan nudges at his chin, pulls him up.
"S'wrong?" Brendon asks, and his lips are swollen, hair mussed from where Ryan tugged gently.
"Nothing," Ryan says reassuringly. "I just -- come here."
Brendon comes easily enough, kisses him obediently and ruts down against Ryan's thigh, and Ryan twists up into it, hitches his legs up high around Brendon's waist, and marvels at how much smaller he is. It's barely a stretch, really. One of Brendon's hands sneaks down to his hip, squeezing gently, and his fingers wrap around to brush against Ryan's ass. Ryan wriggles a bit, trying to hint him into asking, and Brendon dips his hand down, cups Ryan's ass gently. Ryan grinds up against him, kisses him harder.
They lie like that for a while, until Brendon pulls away and sits back on his haunches, biting his lip. "This is -- do you mind if, maybe, we -- I mean. If you don't want to, then, um, that's okay, too, because I don't really know what I'm doing."
"Shh," Ryan whispers, kissing him -- this much kissing, he's getting spoiled, by this time his Brendon would have him pinned and begging -- and arches up a bit, "of course I want, I always want you."
*
The idea for it is kind of dumb, but there are a few things he knows --
1. Brendon was a complete and total virgin up until he got into the swing of things his junior year of high school
2. The "swing of things" got going at a Halloween party Brendon ended up at mostly on accident
3. Brendon was entirely and completely done with his homosexual panic by the time August was over
and, most importantly
4. Brendon's family went out of town to celebrate something important that one of Brendon's nephews did, but he had PSATs to take, and since he was a Good Kid and there was a church event he was going to, he was allowed to stay alone for Friday, Saturday, and most of Sunday.
And after Ryan thought about all that, it was easy enough to look up when Summerlin had administered the PSAT in 2003, and then the rest just sort of fell into place.
*
"This is normally the part where you use lube," Ryan says dryly. Brendon flushes a bit.
"I don't have any --"
"I figured," Ryan says. "It's just hard to take stuff, you know, when. So I didn't, and we can make do with lotion. I'm betting you don't have a condom, either."
"Yeah, no," Brendon says. "Maybe my parents do? But, um, I don't really want to go looking for a condom in my parents' bedroom."
"That's fine," Ryan says. "Just this once is okay."
"All right." Brendon nods, rummages in his nightstand for a bottle of lotion and looks at Ryan helplessly when he's got it gripped in his hand. He's licking at his bottom lip, kiss-swollen and dark. "How is this going to? I mean. Which?"
"That's kind of up to you," Ryan says, only it isn't, because he knows how to make Brendon do what he wants. Especially this Brendon, eager and stumbling and open to all sorts of things. "In the future, you know. It's always me on bottom. That's how I like it best. We've never done it the other way, actually. I mean. It's just. Really, really good like that. But if you want it the other way, then we can do that."
"No, it's okay," Brendon says right away. "I mean. It just might not be that good right now, though. I mean. I hope you're not, like, expecting."
"I'm only expecting you," Ryan says smoothly. Brendon seems to like it, though, if the way he ducks his head and grins awkwardly is any indication.
"Hey," he says. "Um. What does it feel like?"
Ryan leans in and kisses him. "Let me show you," he says, and rolls Brendon over on his stomach. "You okay?"
"Yeah," Brendon says breathlessly. "What are you -- ?"
"Just wait," Ryan says, and parts Brendon's cheeks carefully. Brendon's practically thrumming beneath him, and Ryan can understand why. He knows that Brendon's been curious, but hasn't tried anything like this, at all, and it's exciting to be the first one to do this to him. He sucks two fingers into his mouth, gets them wet and dripping, and rubs the tip of one against Brendon's hole.
Brendon whimpers and wriggles a bit. "That's kind of -- yeah, okay."
Ryan smirks and pushes it in, carefully, feeling how tight Brendon is around him. Brendon shudders.
"That's weird," he says shakily. "But, um. Good." He sounds so unsure, like he's afraid to be too enthusiastic, like that might make Ryan stop. And it's so far from the truth that Ryan wants to rattle him and say, No, no, show me how much you like it. Share with me, I want to know.
On impulse, Ryan bends forward and licks around his finger, tries to pull a reaction from Brendon.
He succeeds: Brendon arches up and gasps, "What -- ?"
"Okay?" Ryan asks, and does it again, just the tip teasing at Brendon's entrance.
"Yea -- yeah. Um, please," Brendon whispers. Ryan chuckles and obliges. Brendon practically cries out, and, encouraged, Ryan pulls his fingers away and licks a firmer line between his cheeks before dipping his tongue in, twisting. Brendon's panting beneath him, and Ryan can feel him tense up, arching back into it. "That's so weird," he breathes out, "that's your tongue, Ryan."
"Mmhm," Ryan hums, and slides his tongue out with a clever little flickering motion that sends Brendon into spasms.
"Ryan," Brendon gasps out.
"Hm." Ryan just keeps lapping at Brendon's hole. It's so different like this -- not that Ryan's never had Brendon gone stupid with pleasure in his hands before, but they've never done specifically this, not this way, not with Brendon spread beneath him. More to the point, even when Brendon's mindlessly praising Ryan, urging him on, it's always so clear that Brendon's had it done to him before, had someone jerk him off, finger him while sucking his cock, ride him, all of that. And maybe he makes it clear that he likes everything better when Ryan's the one doing it, but it still doesn't change the fact that someone got there first. And it's just so strange to know that this Brendon who's coming apart in his hands doesn't feel that way at all, this younger Brendon is entirely focused only on what Ryan's doing to him because he's the first. He's the only, even, and would be if the world had worked out the way Ryan wanted it to, for once.
"Do I -- have I done this to you?" Brendon's asking, still pushing back into Ryan, gripping hard at the sheets.
"Yes," Ryan murmurs, pulling back a bit. He licks his fingers again and pushes one right in and starts teasing with the tip of another. "I love it. You're really good at it. Sometimes we don't even use lube because you've gotten me so wet, you seriously just -- can settle down and keep going for forever." Brendon moans at this, and the sound is higher and more desperate, and there's absolutely no control in it.
"I want -- " Brendon chokes out, and Ryan pauses his ministrations. "I want, now."
"All right," Ryan says, and he urges Brendon up. "Here, lotion, okay?"
"No," Brendon says, glancing at Ryan. There's something flickering in his eyes, now, something like -- something like him asserting himself. "I want to do that to you."
"You want -- ?" Ryan asks dumbly.
"Well, yeah," Brendon says, kissing him with only a bit of reservation, as though he remembers clearly where Ryan's mouth has been and is studiously trying to not think of it, trying to show Ryan how grown-up he is. "You said you liked it, and I mean. I want to."
He's sort of being stupid and stubborn, but he's really just irresistible anyway, so Ryan lies back and spreads his legs, pulls his knees up to give Brendon easier access. Brendon moves in between his legs and spreads him open tentatively before licking gingerly. Ryan shivers into it, and Brendon asks, "Good?", sounding sort of worried.
"Yeah," Ryan says breathily. "Just -- more, okay?" He thinks about saying please, but that's something that he'd say to his Brendon, because his Brendon would never let him be this easy about it, would never just let Ryan sit back and take it. His Brendon would make him work for it, would expect pleading instead of instruction. Brendon takes a deep breath and pushes his tongue in quickly, too much so, but it's nice anyway, and Ryan bears down against it.
Brendon keeps working his tongue, a little messily and sort of haphazard, but it feels rushed and urgent and Ryan moans a little, feels the muscles in his thighs start to ache with the way he's straining.
"I think -- lotion now," Ryan says tightly, and Brendon pulls away quickly.
"Sorry," he says, and Ryan shakes his head.
"No, no, that was. That was really good, Brendon, seriously," Ryan says, "just. I kind of want you to fuck me right now."
And Brendon flinches, but Ryan can understand, because they've not been graphic with their language so far, even just saying 'blowjob' had left Brendon blushing and Ryan feeling oddly uncomfortable, like saying dirty words to his little brothers or something.
"Yeah, okay," Brendon says. "But I have to -- with the lotion, and fingers, right?"
"Yeah," Ryan says. Brendon nods intently, and squirts some lotion onto his fingers before working one into Ryan. He flinches, because the lotion's cold and Brendon's maybe not as gentle as he could be, but watching Brendon nibble at his lower lip while he stretches Ryan open and ready is distracting enough so that he can focus on Brendon spreading his fingers open.
"Is this right?" he asks abruptly. "I mean, I think."
"Yeah, good," Ryan says. "C'mere." He takes the lotion from Brendon and spreads some over his cock. Brendon tenses and closes his eyes, leaning into it. "Here, put your hand -- yeah, like that, okay, now -- "
"Think I got it," Brendon says throatily, pressing the tip to Ryan's ass. Ryan rolls his hips, trying to get Brendon to push, and Brendon does, a slow slide, too slow, too gentle, but the tendons are standing out in his neck, Ryan can tell he's trying to keep himself controlled.
"Good," Ryan sighs, "more, come on, I can take it."
"'Kay," Brendon grunts, and he pushes the rest of the way in, and it's good, Brendon rocking his hips experimentally, the look of innocent rapture on his face overwhelming.
It doesn't hurt that Brendon's filling him so perfectly, working up into a harder rhythm, rougher and that's just fine, it is, Ryan doesn't need finesse right now, he needs the helpless way Brendon's pounding into him, and if the cadence doesn't quite fit the beat on every stroke, then that's fine, too, because he's so clearly loving every second of it, eyes open wide and focused on Ryan's as he keeps fucking into him. There's some recklessness to his movements, like he doesn't seem to know what he's doing, but he's managing all right, and like everything else so far it makes Ryan's breath catch a little, at how young and honest he is, how unaware he is of everything.
And it's good, and Ryan knew it would be, but still, there's theory, and then there's practice and practice makes perfect or -- or something, Ryan can't think like this, not with Brendon's hips pumping easily and Ryan reaches down to wrap long fingers around his cock, because he knows that Brendon's not going to last that much longer and he can't imagine that he can, either.
Brendon's eyes go even wider at that, and he gasps out, "Should I be -- touching you, is that?"
Ryan nods jerkily, "Please," and Brendon likes that, closes his eyes and bites at his lip, while he fumbles for Ryan's cock. He's completely unable to keep to any kind of rhythm, and that almost makes it better, the awkward trying, and Ryan arches up, trying for more, trying to remember every single sensation because this is it, the only first time they're ever going to have, even if it's stolen and even if it might change something Ryan would still do it, he would, because this is just too good, Brendon young and eager and losing control as he slams into Ryan faster, and Ryan tilts his head back and cries out when he feels Brendon's hand tighten over his cock as he comes, pushing deep into Ryan's ass.
He reaches down and covers Brendon's hand with his own, tugs at his cock quickly, and he comes almost right away, feeling it hot and sticky between them. Brendon collapses on top of him, and his weight is so much easier to bear this way.
They lie like that, breathing hard, and finally Brendon groans and works his way out of Ryan.
"Good," Ryan says, before Brendon can ask, but that doesn't even begin to cover it.
"Yeah?" Brendon asks shyly.
"Everything I wanted and more," Ryan assures him, kisses him softly. Brendon leans into it, and reaches for his pajama pants, shimmies into them while exposing himself as little as possible. Ryan wants to laugh at that, the absurdity of a post-coital Brendon being skittish enough to not want to stay naked, but, like everything else, it's endearing in part because he knows it won't last. He plans to savour it.
*
Author: Telis (theaerosolkid)
Rating: NC-17
Pairing: Brendon/Ryan
Summary: Time travel fic! adellyna and foxxcub both did Jon/Spencer time travel fics, and, um, I like my OTP, so there you have it.
Word Count: 6083
Disclaimer: Fake, fake, fake.
A/N: Happy birthday to me! Thanks to notshybutsly for the beta, and adellyna for stroking my ego :)
*
"I'm not that innocent," Brendon sing-songed absentmindedly, and Ryan scowled at him.
Because, really, that was sort of the problem.
*
Ryan lets himself in the house as quietly as he can. The back door's unlocked, and he takes a moment to suck in a deep breath and hope Brendon's better at locking the front door. It's dark inside, and the only noise is coming from upstairs, something classical. Ryan thinks it's probably Vivaldi, but can't be sure.
Right now the issue is whether he should walk heavily to announce his presence or quietly so as to surprise Brendon. It's probably better to surprise him. He's alone, and probably not too comfortable with that fact.
*
But, really.
Logically, Ryan should have been much better at the whole sex thing than Brendon was. Because Brendon was kind of a goof, and a bit of a moron at times, and also Mormon. He wasn't even allowed to date girls in high school.
It did not make any fucking sense at all. The first time they were fooling around, it really should have been sort of awkward and fumbly on Brendon's part. Ryan had it all planned out: Brendon would grab for his crotch and get a handful of hipbone instead. And then he'd blush and bite at his lip and maybe laugh a little, and then Ryan would kiss him and smile reassuringly, and then they'd get naked and it would be really great, okay, because Brendon was pretty gorgeous and all that. Anyway, so they'd be naked and then Brendon would hesitate a bit and Ryan would say, That's all right, and show Brendon what he liked, and Brendon would pick up on it soon enough but not, like, right away, and then they'd have lots of sex and every step of the way, Ryan would be the one saying, Yep, that goes there, and Nope, little to the left, please.
Where it had probably gone astray was the part where Ryan had kind of studiously ignored the fact that the sum total of his experience with the hornier sex was a lot of unsatisfying dry-humping at shows and maybe half of a blowjob gotten in the bathroom at one of the aforementioned shows back in Vegas. His viewpoint was that Brendon was the dweeby one, and he was the one who had a better fuck, which he completely did, so what the hell.
Because the first time they were really fooling around not only did Brendon actually manage to grab his dick on the first try, he was good enough at the whole groping-through-jeans thing that something like a minute and a half later Ryan was choking out a stuttering breath and coming, gripping at Brendon's shoulders. Probably the worst part was how totally unsurprised Brendon was. He just kissed Ryan again, a little softer, and guided Ryan's hand to the zipper on his stupid ill-fitting jeans and had to help Ryan get his jeans open and his cock out, and then even though he finished quickly, it was still pretty fucking irritating.
*
Ryan pauses at the hallway, trying to remember. It's 2003, he thinks, which means that Brendon's got his own room by now, okay. The door's open and the lights are out -- the only thing helping Ryan see is the faint glow from the streetlights.
He makes his way into Brendon's bedroom, where a CD player on the floor by his bed is still playing that same lilting classical music. Brendon's curled up under just a sheet with the rest of the blankets kicked to the foot of the bed. That makes sense: it's September, still scorchingly hot in Vegas. Ryan's surprised he's even sleeping under a sheet. Ryan's surprised he's sleeping in clothes at all. Nobody else is home, and they won't be until halfway through the next day. If it were Ryan, he'd be sleeping naked downstairs, where it's cooler. As it is, there's a fan aimed right at Brendon's bed, and it's mostly just serving to move hot air around.
Ryan takes a minute to watch Brendon sleep. He's so -- he's so young, and Ryan almost reconsiders. Brendon's face is rounder, slack with sleep and his hair is darker, the product of a cheap dye job to cover up the bleach he'd grown sick of a few months earlier. His haircut is even more juvenile than the one he had when he met Ryan. It's a little longer, a little too even, like his mother trimmed it too carefully. She might have. Brendon takes a deep breath and shifts in his sleep, and Ryan's breath hitches again. He looks smaller, Ryan thinks. Brendon's shorter than Ryan as it is, but he must have grown a few inches by the time his senior year of high school started. He must have, because he's definitely not this short now. Or. In the future. It's a little confusing, trying to figure out even in his own mind how to compare the Brendon sleeping in front of him to the Brendon who's sleeping back in (up in?) 2007, unsuspecting.
Ryan takes a deep breath and sits at the edge of the bed, feels the warmth from Brendon's small body.
*
"Have you ever done this before?" Brendon asked him the next time, with Ryan on his knees nosing at Brendon's cock through his jeans.
"No," Ryan said after a beat. Brendon grinned at him and tugged him upwards.
"Here," he said. "Let me, okay?"
And then he'd knelt and sucked the head of Ryan's cock into his mouth, and, okay, he was actually really good at this, smooth and practiced. Coordinated, even, with the way his hand was twisting over Ryan's cock in time with the gentle sucking. Ryan bit his lip and tried to not push into Brendon's mouth, but then Brendon was taking him deeper like it was nothing, and okay, that was kind of confusing.
Also kind of hard to focus on. It didn't take long for Ryan to come, and Brendon swallowed neatly with the ease of practice before standing up and kissing Ryan's cheek.
"You don't have to," he said as Ryan dropped back to his knees, opened Brendon's jeans with determination.
"I want to," Ryan said.
Brendon chuckled softly, "Okay."
And the whole time, it was kind of like gentle nudging from Brendon, urging him to take a little more or back off or suck a bit harder or just at the tip or maybe use his tongue a little and guiding Ryan's hands to fondle his balls, telling him to be more gentle down there, thanks, and it was really helpful and informative and Ryan certainly felt more capable of giving a proper blowjob when it was all over but that didn't change the fact that a) Brendon had been the one to help him again and b) he didn't quite manage to swallow it all.
Which was just kind of stupid.
*
The CD finishes with a click. Ryan strokes at the nape of Brendon's neck, and he stirs.
"Mom?" Brendon mumbles out, and Ryan chuckles.
"No," he murmurs. "Wake up."
Brendon jolts awake then, "Wha --"
"Shh, it's okay," Ryan soothes.
"Who are you?" Brendon asks, eyes wide. "How did you get in? What -- what's going on?"
"I'm Ryan," he says calmly. "It's okay, I'm not -- I'm not here to hurt you or kidnap your or steal something or whatever."
"Oh. Um. But --"
"You left the back door unlocked," Ryan explains.
"Oh. Dammit," Brendon says, sounding bewildered.
"I hope you locked the front," Ryan says.
"Yeah-huh," Brendon says. "Um. So. Ryan, right?" A nod. "Can you, um. Can you tell me what you're doing, um, here?"
"Um," Ryan says. "Well. So this is kind of awkward."
"Little bit," Brendon says, frowning a little, sitting up and sliding away from Ryan. Ryan hands him his glasses, and Brendon takes them cautiously. Even his frames are younger, thinner. They don't fit his face, even this rounder face Ryan's not familiar with, has only seen in pictures.
"I'm from the future," Ryan says after a deep breath. "You know me. We're in a band together."
Brendon doesn't say anything. Ryan chances a look in his direction, but Brendon's expression is unreadable.
"Are you okay?" Brendon asks carefully after a pause. "There's a really good rehab facility kind of close to here, I can drive you, if you want. Or, we could talk. About, you know, the future. But if you've taken something we should probably get you to the ER. In case something gets you messed up."
"I'm not on anything," Ryan says irritably.
Brendon does not look convinced.
"Here," Ryan says, reaching into his back pocket. He hands the photo to Brendon. It's not a particularly special picture, just one Jon took casually up in the cabin a few months ago. He and Brendon are setting up some instruments, the picture was taken the day they got up to the cabin and Brendon's mugging for the camera with a tambourine in one hand and an acoustic 12-string in the other. Ryan's standing next to him, rolling his eyes.
Brendon squints at the picture, then glances up at Ryan. He considers, then leans in and flips the lightswitch close to his bed, and takes a closer look at Ryan.
"Weird," he breathes. "Is that -- is that me?"
"Yep," Ryan says. "It was taken a couple months ago. In my time. So, um, about four years from now."
"How -- ?"
"Don't worry about that one, it'll just make your head hurt," Ryan advises.
"Wow," Brendon breathes. Ryan pretty much agrees.
*
The first time they actually Did It (the way Ryan thinks of it), you know, Had The Sex (the way Spencer describes it), they had been in a hotel room and they'd been grinding against each other fully clothed, and then Ryan said, "Hey, maybe," and Brendon had looked a little skeptical but still had worked his jeans off and slicked his fingers up with cheap hotel lotion and pressed just the tip of one into Ryan.
"Have you ever -- ?" Brendon asked quietly, and Ryan shook his head.
"Not -- not like this," he whispered as Brendon pushed another finger in, deeper this time. Something had darkened in Brendon's gaze, something that made it harder to ask, "You?"
"Yeah," Brendon said quietly after a pause. "Just -- let me take care of you, okay?"
And that had been that, really, Brendon rolling him over to his hands and knees before bracing hands on his hips and pushing in gently, and it had hurt a lot, which Ryan had been expecting, because, well, Brendon's dick in his ass, um, ow, but only up to a certain point and it was hurting kind of a lot more than Ryan had been led to believe it would.
"Are you okay?" Brendon asked, and Ryan nodded, winced. "It'll get better," he said, reassuringly, and Ryan sort of had to believe him because apparently Brendon knew about a metric fuckton more about sex than Ryan, which was -- infuriatingly enough -- simultaneously unfair and convenient.
And, yeah, it was good and everything, Ryan had ended up loving it, as soon as his body really got used to the stretch and press of it, pushing back into Brendon's thrusts and babbling incoherent pleasure.
Which didn't change the fact that Brendon had talked him through it. Talked him through it like he was a high school girl on prom night. What the fuck.
*
"So, we're really in a band?" Brendon asks eagerly. "Like, a real one? Do we have a record deal? Tell me we have a record deal."
"Yeah, we won a VMA last year," Ryan says. "Or, well. Anyway, we won a 2006 VMA."
"Wow," Brendon says again. "When do I get to meet you?"
"In about a year," Ryan says. "It's going to be very weird for a while."
"Why's that?" Brendon asks, squinting.
Ryan had promised himself that he wouldn't get involved in anything really serious, he was just here to -- well. But anyway, he'd decided he definitely wasn't going to warn Brendon about the band thing and how rough the back half of his senior year was going to be and all of that. Because that was all Brendon's stuff to deal with, not his.
"Just take my word for it," Ryan says. "I mean. You're going to think I don't like you, but I will. Um. Did. Do. I do like you."
"We're good friends in the future?" Brendon asks. He looks so young, so eager.
"More than that," Ryan says, catching his eye and trying to tell him without saying it. Brendon looks confused, then realization dawns.
"Oh," he says quietly. He bites his lip, and all Ryan wants to do is kiss him, see what's the same, see what's different, see what he missed out on.
*
"So," Ryan said one night while they were both sated and twisted up in bedsheets. "This is kind of a weird question."
"Sure," Brendon said easily. "Wouldn't want anything else from you, Ross."
Ryan snorted. "Who -- I mean. The sex thing. I didn't think you had. You know."
"Well," Brendon said. "Um, it was mostly junior year. Like. I had this big lame gay crisis over the summer after sophomore year and then I kind of got over it and then. I kind of stopped making a big deal out of it, and then things just kind of started...happening." Ryan blew out huff of breath. "Is that...okay?"
"It's fine," Ryan said. "I just. Wasn't expecting it."
"What, that I'd have rocking awesome moves?" Brendon asked with a grin.
"Pretty much," Ryan said.
"Gee, thanks a lot, Ross," Brendon said, but he sounded amused. Ryan sighed.
"It's just -- I don't know. You're a lot more. Than me."
"I don't mind," Brendon said right away. "Ryan, don't -- it's not. I really don't care. I like helping you. I really do. I like being your first, with all this stuff."
And that was a nice sentiment and all, but Ryan didn't know how to tell Brendon that he didn't want it that way. He wanted them to be each others' firsts, and that was kind of lame and pretty girly, so he didn't say it. But he thought about it. A lot.
*
"So," Brendon says, sitting cross-legged, closer to Ryan. He leans in a little, like he's unsure, and Ryan finds it so thoroughly endearing that he can't do anything other than shift closer and kiss Brendon.
Brendon's surprised, but he gets into it quickly, opening his mouth and kissing back, and it's a little sloppier than what Ryan's used to with him, enthusiasm and sleep-mouth but still so, so good. Brendon doesn't seem to know what to do with his hands, so Ryan laces their fingers together, and Brendon lets him, which is sort of a novelty. Because his Brendon would find that hilarious, very middle school, and probably tease Ryan about it, and he'd be good-natured about it but it would still sting. And Ryan's not even sure what he'd do if Brendon were to hold his hand like this, intimate and almost innocent in the earnestness of the gesture, and it's so nice to appreciate the subtle way Brendon's palms are warm and a bit damp against him, Ryan can tell he's nervous.
It's a good nervous, though, a thrilling sort of nervous, a daring sort of nervous, and this is what Ryan wanted the first time he kissed Brendon. Discovery and exploration and something new, and it was still new and everything, but it wasn't like he was behind.
Brendon tilts his head away and keeps his eyes closed, forehead still leaning against Ryan's. "Wow," he whispers.
Ryan smiles and cups his cheek, kisses him again, slower this time, instructing. Brendon follows his lead and sucks on his tongue, gently, a little too much so.
Brendon pulls away again, and Ryan's a little taken aback, but then Brendon's biting on his bottom lip and looking at Ryan kind of hesitatingly. "How long are you here for?" he asks shyly.
"A while," Ryan says. "I need to leave before your parents get back."
"So the rest of the night, at least," Brendon presses, and Ryan nods.
"Here," Ryan says, and nudges Brendon aside so he can lie on his back. He spreads his legs a bit and lets Brendon settle between them, nuzzles at his throat before pulling Brendon into another kiss. Brendon moans quietly and grinds down a bit, grows a bit inattentive to the movements of his mouth over Ryan's, and Ryan wraps his legs around Brendon, urges him on a bit. Brendon starts rocking down against him, somewhat clumsily, and Ryan feels a shiver of excitement at how eager Brendon is, because his Brendon would never be this quick to get so enthusiastic. His Brendon would pin him down with more precise force and make Ryan whimper for it.
Which is nice, really, but this is -- it's sort of tantalizing, seeing how this younger Brendon reacts to him, and there's a sort of desperation in Brendon's body that Ryan loves. "You can make noise," he breathes out. "Nobody's home but us, it's all okay."
Brendon grunts, high-pitched and needy, and Ryan arches up to meet him, bites at his earlobe, and that's apparently enough for Brendon: he shudders and comes with a strangled groan. It's an ugly, rough noise, young and inexperienced and Ryan knows it's the very first time Brendon has allowed himself to make any sort of noise when he comes.
"Sorry," Brendon says right away, and he's so embarrassed, and it's actually really. It's so sweet, and just what Ryan wanted and wants and he just kisses Brendon again and smiles when he pulls away.
"No worries," he says. "But you should probably get undressed." Brendon's eyes go wide at this and he moves away, jerkily, eyes on Ryan as he reaches for the hem of his shirt and pulls it off. Ryan presses a soft kiss to his chest, narrower and paler than he's used to before leaning back and unbuttoning his shirt.
"Um," Brendon says, and he's sort of shy and cautious again, and, fuck, Ryan wants to suck on his collarbone and listen to him whine and plead for more. "Can I -- ?" He gestures vaguely at Ryan, and Ryan smiles and drops his hands, nods and lets Brendon finish pulling his shirt off. When he's done with that, Brendon reaches down and starts fumbling with Ryan's belt, and Ryan grins wider and helps him a little.
Brendon dips his head down and kisses Ryan's stomach hesitantly, like he doesn't know if that's something people do when they're half-naked and wanting. A shiver chases through Ryan at the action, because his Brendon does exactly this every time: kisses just beneath his ribs and while he kisses harder and more confidently than this Brendon does, the action is the same and it's the strangest sense of déjà vu. It's hard to think about, a little, the idea that the specificity of that small kiss is familiar for him and yet entirely new for Brendon.
Ryan shakes his head to clear it and rolls back, peeling his jeans off. Brendon stares at him, eyes wide and cheeks flushed, and there's something like worship written in the line of his jaw. Ryan smiles again -- can't stop -- and Brendon presses his lips together, tight, and looks away as he pulls his pajama pants off, drops them to the floor. Ryan settles back again and pulls Brendon over him, shivers when Brendon gasps at the feel of their cocks lining up. Ryan kisses him, and it's slower this time, a little less wonder. Ryan misses the wonder already.
He pulls back, asks, "What do you want?"
Brendon bites at his lip. "I want -- I want to make you. Um. I want to do something for you."
"Anything specific?" Ryan presses, and Brendon goes redder.
"Can I -- like. Um. Blowjob, maybe?" Ryan nuzzles at him.
"I'd like that," he says, truthfully, and Brendon pulls back a bit, settles down.
"I don't know exactly," he confesses, and Ryan shrugs.
"I'll help you," he says, trying to keep the anticipation out of his voice. "Just. Get your hand around it, and kind of -- yeah, like that."
Brendon's got good instincts, even this young, leaning in to lick at the tip tentatively, as though he's not sure he'll like the taste. It seems to go down fine, though, and he takes the head into his mouth and gives an experimental suck. It's good, a little too soft, but Ryan sighs happily anyway, because it's clear that Brendon's trying hard, being so careful. He builds up something like a rhythm with his mouth, his hand still just curled loosely around the base.
It's not quite what Ryan was expecting from him -- more spastic energy, maybe, but Brendon's cautious and it's kind of adorable. Which is sort of a strange thought to have when the teenage version of your partner is sucking your cock, but at that moment Brendon figures out that moving his hand might feel good, and he stumbles with coordinating for a moment, but manages to get it together, and Ryan closes his eyes, relaxes into the easy flow of pleasure. Ryan curls fingers into Brendon's hair, coarser and shorter and Brendon makes a pleased noise around his cock.
"Good," Ryan whispers. "That's really -- really good. See if you can take a little more."
Brendon opens his mouth a little, slides down Ryan's cock and takes a bit too much, has to pull away and breathe a little harder. "Sorry," he whispers, and Ryan shakes his head, tries to say something, but then Brendon's sucking him down again, more confident this time, and it's better, tighter, quicker, more enthusiastic, and this is more like it. This is -- Brendon, young and excited and happily suckling at his cock, making soft little noises. Ryan nudges at his chin, pulls him up.
"S'wrong?" Brendon asks, and his lips are swollen, hair mussed from where Ryan tugged gently.
"Nothing," Ryan says reassuringly. "I just -- come here."
Brendon comes easily enough, kisses him obediently and ruts down against Ryan's thigh, and Ryan twists up into it, hitches his legs up high around Brendon's waist, and marvels at how much smaller he is. It's barely a stretch, really. One of Brendon's hands sneaks down to his hip, squeezing gently, and his fingers wrap around to brush against Ryan's ass. Ryan wriggles a bit, trying to hint him into asking, and Brendon dips his hand down, cups Ryan's ass gently. Ryan grinds up against him, kisses him harder.
They lie like that for a while, until Brendon pulls away and sits back on his haunches, biting his lip. "This is -- do you mind if, maybe, we -- I mean. If you don't want to, then, um, that's okay, too, because I don't really know what I'm doing."
"Shh," Ryan whispers, kissing him -- this much kissing, he's getting spoiled, by this time his Brendon would have him pinned and begging -- and arches up a bit, "of course I want, I always want you."
*
The idea for it is kind of dumb, but there are a few things he knows --
1. Brendon was a complete and total virgin up until he got into the swing of things his junior year of high school
2. The "swing of things" got going at a Halloween party Brendon ended up at mostly on accident
3. Brendon was entirely and completely done with his homosexual panic by the time August was over
and, most importantly
4. Brendon's family went out of town to celebrate something important that one of Brendon's nephews did, but he had PSATs to take, and since he was a Good Kid and there was a church event he was going to, he was allowed to stay alone for Friday, Saturday, and most of Sunday.
And after Ryan thought about all that, it was easy enough to look up when Summerlin had administered the PSAT in 2003, and then the rest just sort of fell into place.
*
"This is normally the part where you use lube," Ryan says dryly. Brendon flushes a bit.
"I don't have any --"
"I figured," Ryan says. "It's just hard to take stuff, you know, when. So I didn't, and we can make do with lotion. I'm betting you don't have a condom, either."
"Yeah, no," Brendon says. "Maybe my parents do? But, um, I don't really want to go looking for a condom in my parents' bedroom."
"That's fine," Ryan says. "Just this once is okay."
"All right." Brendon nods, rummages in his nightstand for a bottle of lotion and looks at Ryan helplessly when he's got it gripped in his hand. He's licking at his bottom lip, kiss-swollen and dark. "How is this going to? I mean. Which?"
"That's kind of up to you," Ryan says, only it isn't, because he knows how to make Brendon do what he wants. Especially this Brendon, eager and stumbling and open to all sorts of things. "In the future, you know. It's always me on bottom. That's how I like it best. We've never done it the other way, actually. I mean. It's just. Really, really good like that. But if you want it the other way, then we can do that."
"No, it's okay," Brendon says right away. "I mean. It just might not be that good right now, though. I mean. I hope you're not, like, expecting."
"I'm only expecting you," Ryan says smoothly. Brendon seems to like it, though, if the way he ducks his head and grins awkwardly is any indication.
"Hey," he says. "Um. What does it feel like?"
Ryan leans in and kisses him. "Let me show you," he says, and rolls Brendon over on his stomach. "You okay?"
"Yeah," Brendon says breathlessly. "What are you -- ?"
"Just wait," Ryan says, and parts Brendon's cheeks carefully. Brendon's practically thrumming beneath him, and Ryan can understand why. He knows that Brendon's been curious, but hasn't tried anything like this, at all, and it's exciting to be the first one to do this to him. He sucks two fingers into his mouth, gets them wet and dripping, and rubs the tip of one against Brendon's hole.
Brendon whimpers and wriggles a bit. "That's kind of -- yeah, okay."
Ryan smirks and pushes it in, carefully, feeling how tight Brendon is around him. Brendon shudders.
"That's weird," he says shakily. "But, um. Good." He sounds so unsure, like he's afraid to be too enthusiastic, like that might make Ryan stop. And it's so far from the truth that Ryan wants to rattle him and say, No, no, show me how much you like it. Share with me, I want to know.
On impulse, Ryan bends forward and licks around his finger, tries to pull a reaction from Brendon.
He succeeds: Brendon arches up and gasps, "What -- ?"
"Okay?" Ryan asks, and does it again, just the tip teasing at Brendon's entrance.
"Yea -- yeah. Um, please," Brendon whispers. Ryan chuckles and obliges. Brendon practically cries out, and, encouraged, Ryan pulls his fingers away and licks a firmer line between his cheeks before dipping his tongue in, twisting. Brendon's panting beneath him, and Ryan can feel him tense up, arching back into it. "That's so weird," he breathes out, "that's your tongue, Ryan."
"Mmhm," Ryan hums, and slides his tongue out with a clever little flickering motion that sends Brendon into spasms.
"Ryan," Brendon gasps out.
"Hm." Ryan just keeps lapping at Brendon's hole. It's so different like this -- not that Ryan's never had Brendon gone stupid with pleasure in his hands before, but they've never done specifically this, not this way, not with Brendon spread beneath him. More to the point, even when Brendon's mindlessly praising Ryan, urging him on, it's always so clear that Brendon's had it done to him before, had someone jerk him off, finger him while sucking his cock, ride him, all of that. And maybe he makes it clear that he likes everything better when Ryan's the one doing it, but it still doesn't change the fact that someone got there first. And it's just so strange to know that this Brendon who's coming apart in his hands doesn't feel that way at all, this younger Brendon is entirely focused only on what Ryan's doing to him because he's the first. He's the only, even, and would be if the world had worked out the way Ryan wanted it to, for once.
"Do I -- have I done this to you?" Brendon's asking, still pushing back into Ryan, gripping hard at the sheets.
"Yes," Ryan murmurs, pulling back a bit. He licks his fingers again and pushes one right in and starts teasing with the tip of another. "I love it. You're really good at it. Sometimes we don't even use lube because you've gotten me so wet, you seriously just -- can settle down and keep going for forever." Brendon moans at this, and the sound is higher and more desperate, and there's absolutely no control in it.
"I want -- " Brendon chokes out, and Ryan pauses his ministrations. "I want, now."
"All right," Ryan says, and he urges Brendon up. "Here, lotion, okay?"
"No," Brendon says, glancing at Ryan. There's something flickering in his eyes, now, something like -- something like him asserting himself. "I want to do that to you."
"You want -- ?" Ryan asks dumbly.
"Well, yeah," Brendon says, kissing him with only a bit of reservation, as though he remembers clearly where Ryan's mouth has been and is studiously trying to not think of it, trying to show Ryan how grown-up he is. "You said you liked it, and I mean. I want to."
He's sort of being stupid and stubborn, but he's really just irresistible anyway, so Ryan lies back and spreads his legs, pulls his knees up to give Brendon easier access. Brendon moves in between his legs and spreads him open tentatively before licking gingerly. Ryan shivers into it, and Brendon asks, "Good?", sounding sort of worried.
"Yeah," Ryan says breathily. "Just -- more, okay?" He thinks about saying please, but that's something that he'd say to his Brendon, because his Brendon would never let him be this easy about it, would never just let Ryan sit back and take it. His Brendon would make him work for it, would expect pleading instead of instruction. Brendon takes a deep breath and pushes his tongue in quickly, too much so, but it's nice anyway, and Ryan bears down against it.
Brendon keeps working his tongue, a little messily and sort of haphazard, but it feels rushed and urgent and Ryan moans a little, feels the muscles in his thighs start to ache with the way he's straining.
"I think -- lotion now," Ryan says tightly, and Brendon pulls away quickly.
"Sorry," he says, and Ryan shakes his head.
"No, no, that was. That was really good, Brendon, seriously," Ryan says, "just. I kind of want you to fuck me right now."
And Brendon flinches, but Ryan can understand, because they've not been graphic with their language so far, even just saying 'blowjob' had left Brendon blushing and Ryan feeling oddly uncomfortable, like saying dirty words to his little brothers or something.
"Yeah, okay," Brendon says. "But I have to -- with the lotion, and fingers, right?"
"Yeah," Ryan says. Brendon nods intently, and squirts some lotion onto his fingers before working one into Ryan. He flinches, because the lotion's cold and Brendon's maybe not as gentle as he could be, but watching Brendon nibble at his lower lip while he stretches Ryan open and ready is distracting enough so that he can focus on Brendon spreading his fingers open.
"Is this right?" he asks abruptly. "I mean, I think."
"Yeah, good," Ryan says. "C'mere." He takes the lotion from Brendon and spreads some over his cock. Brendon tenses and closes his eyes, leaning into it. "Here, put your hand -- yeah, like that, okay, now -- "
"Think I got it," Brendon says throatily, pressing the tip to Ryan's ass. Ryan rolls his hips, trying to get Brendon to push, and Brendon does, a slow slide, too slow, too gentle, but the tendons are standing out in his neck, Ryan can tell he's trying to keep himself controlled.
"Good," Ryan sighs, "more, come on, I can take it."
"'Kay," Brendon grunts, and he pushes the rest of the way in, and it's good, Brendon rocking his hips experimentally, the look of innocent rapture on his face overwhelming.
It doesn't hurt that Brendon's filling him so perfectly, working up into a harder rhythm, rougher and that's just fine, it is, Ryan doesn't need finesse right now, he needs the helpless way Brendon's pounding into him, and if the cadence doesn't quite fit the beat on every stroke, then that's fine, too, because he's so clearly loving every second of it, eyes open wide and focused on Ryan's as he keeps fucking into him. There's some recklessness to his movements, like he doesn't seem to know what he's doing, but he's managing all right, and like everything else so far it makes Ryan's breath catch a little, at how young and honest he is, how unaware he is of everything.
And it's good, and Ryan knew it would be, but still, there's theory, and then there's practice and practice makes perfect or -- or something, Ryan can't think like this, not with Brendon's hips pumping easily and Ryan reaches down to wrap long fingers around his cock, because he knows that Brendon's not going to last that much longer and he can't imagine that he can, either.
Brendon's eyes go even wider at that, and he gasps out, "Should I be -- touching you, is that?"
Ryan nods jerkily, "Please," and Brendon likes that, closes his eyes and bites at his lip, while he fumbles for Ryan's cock. He's completely unable to keep to any kind of rhythm, and that almost makes it better, the awkward trying, and Ryan arches up, trying for more, trying to remember every single sensation because this is it, the only first time they're ever going to have, even if it's stolen and even if it might change something Ryan would still do it, he would, because this is just too good, Brendon young and eager and losing control as he slams into Ryan faster, and Ryan tilts his head back and cries out when he feels Brendon's hand tighten over his cock as he comes, pushing deep into Ryan's ass.
He reaches down and covers Brendon's hand with his own, tugs at his cock quickly, and he comes almost right away, feeling it hot and sticky between them. Brendon collapses on top of him, and his weight is so much easier to bear this way.
They lie like that, breathing hard, and finally Brendon groans and works his way out of Ryan.
"Good," Ryan says, before Brendon can ask, but that doesn't even begin to cover it.
"Yeah?" Brendon asks shyly.
"Everything I wanted and more," Ryan assures him, kisses him softly. Brendon leans into it, and reaches for his pajama pants, shimmies into them while exposing himself as little as possible. Ryan wants to laugh at that, the absurdity of a post-coital Brendon being skittish enough to not want to stay naked, but, like everything else, it's endearing in part because he knows it won't last. He plans to savour it.
*