Owned Part 2
Brendon was so lost in these thoughts, examining Ryan’s face with such curious interest, that when those green eyes suddenly snapped upwards and locked on to his he felt himself openly shudder and was unable to tear his gaze away. The two boys simply sat staring at one another, a battle of wills playing out unspoken between them. Brendon’s brown eyes were round and startled, while Ryan’s were half-lidded and calm, refusing to drop their gaze even when his fingers moved up to his mouth and he breathed in another lungful of smoke.
“So,” said Ryan eventually, still holding Brendon in that cold, steady gaze, “do you want to explain to me why it is that you seem unable to get through a show without grinding your hyperactive booty up against my guitar?”
Brendon could not speak. His mouth was dry and his head was spinning and he felt like a thirteen year old being chastised by his teacher. He simply stared, a gormless expression on his face.
“Well?” Demanded Ryan after a while.
“I….I….I’m sorry…I just thought that….”
“You thought what?” Ryan’s words were far more precise, far more composed than Brendon’s stumbled response.
“I just thought…you liked it…” He finished weakly.
“Because you’re so hot, right?”
“No!” Brendon suddenly felt his face flush scarlet and his ego stir. Having been previously so trapped by Ryan’s stare, he was now unable to look at his friend, and his eyes darted nervously around the rest of the bunk.
“You don’t think you’re hot?”
“No!” Brendon repeated, an edge of anger creeping into his voice.
“But you think I think you’re hot, don’t you Brendon?”
“No…I don’t know…Ryan, stop it.” Brendon felt deeply uncomfortable being so blatantly confronted with his own arrogance. It was true, he did think Ryan thought he was hot. He thought that Ryan enjoyed the attention that he occasionally lavished on him on stage. But now that he came to think about it, had Ryan ever responded positively? Had Ryan not, in all truth, always stepped back to his microphone, ignoring the younger boy’s advances?
Damn my foolish ego, thought Brendon ruefully, I had actually convinced myself that he enjoyed it! Or maybe I had just wanted him to.
“Look at me.” Came that cold, steely voice once again and those chocolate brown eyes found themselves unable to disobey. “I do think you’re hot.” Brendon’s heart leapt into his mouth and he blushed once again but this time with pride and not anger. “But I also think you’re an arrogant fuck.” The smile that had been there a second before dropped from Brendon’s face. “It’s funny, isn’t it Bren, that roles that have been so firmly established in the every day can be so easily reversed in…an unusual situation?”
The words were carefully chosen and spoken with a great deal of poignancy, yet Brendon had no clue what they meant. His brow must have creased a little with confusion because Ryan laughed at him lightly.
“Poor, silly Brendon. You have no idea what I am talking about do you? You’re behaviour is entirely instinctive and yet you lack the words to articulate or even understand it.”
“I’m sorry.” Why the fuck am I apologising?
“Don’t be sorry Brendon. I like you dumb and responsive.”
Brendon felt like crying. Ryan had never criticised him before but, although the words were cruel, patronising even, there was a warmth behind the green eyes that Brendon clung to.
Ryan’s long fingers reached forward and tenderly curled amongst the tendrils of Brendon’s hair. Brendon couldn’t help raising his chin and turning his head slightly to feel the touch against his cheek.
“It’s okay Bren,” Ryan spoke softly but the words were still laced with meaning, “all you have to do is what you’re told. You can manage that, can’t you?”
“Yes, Ryan.” Brendon’s words came as a whisper. He felt as though he was in a trance but the gentle fingers that were now stroking their way across his dry lips grounded him and he couldn’t help but chance a tiny kiss on their tips.
“Stand up, Brendon.” The fingers moved away and Ryan adjusted his position on the bunk, taking one final pull on the spent joint before stubbing it out in the ashtray beside him. Ryan looked expectantly on as Brendon’s body rose obediently from its uncomfortable posture and his feet slid to the floor in front of him. Brendon stood up and turned around to face the bunk, the wall of the narrow corridor a few feet behind him. Ryan smiled at the way Brendon’s eyes were locked on the ground at his feet, a small pink flush in his cheeks, his hands clasped before him, an unwitting position of total submission.
“Move back,” demanded Ryan, “against the wall.”
Brendon shuffled backwards awkwardly until his back clunked heavily against the wall behind him. He was grateful for the support it offered and relaxed his shoulder blades into the smooth surface, eyes still lowered, mind still unable to cling to a single thought. Just do what you’re told.
“Take your shirt off, Brendon.”
For a second Brendon’s hands remained locked in front of him and Ryan was concerned he had pushed his friend too far. But then, very tentatively, the fingers separated themselves and rose trembling to meet the top button of the tight shirt, fumbling to undo it before moving on. Ryan watched on as the small sliver of pale skin where Brendon’s neck met his chest was further revealed.
“Slowly.” Came the command and Brendon’s eyes flicked upwards for a second, an anguished moan escaping his lips as his brain battled with his instincts.
He resumed the task of undressing, feeling Ryan’s green eyes burning into him as he stripped, his hands quaking and trembling as he finally reached the bottom button and popped it, letting the material fall open to reveal his naked torso.
“See what a good boy you can be?” mocked Ryan, and Brendon cringed and pressed himself further against the wall for comfort.
“For fuck’s sake, Ry’…” He managed, forcing his eyes upwards to meet his tormentor and fix him with a pleading stare.
Ryan smiled sympathetically before making a patronising baby noise and sticking out his bottom lip. “Awwww, poor Brenny! You look so cute standing there all torn and confused. It’s not easy to obey willingly is it?”
“No.” Whispered Brendon, hating the effect that Ryan’s demeaning words were having on his crotch.
“Would you like me to make it easier on you?”
“Yes.”
“Yes what, Brendon?”
“Yes please, Ryan.” The angry edge was back in his voice and his eyes locked on to Ryan’s as though to offer a challenge but Ryan simply smiled and rose from the bunk to stand in front of him. Ryan’s hands reached down and, without dropping his gaze from Brendon’s for a single second, he unclasped the younger boy’s belt buckle and whipped it from its loops, causing a momentary flash of fear to dance across Brendon’s face.
“Turn around.” Came the order and their eyes held each other for just a second more before Brendon’s lids dropped and he turned slowly around to face the wall. Ryan reached up to his friend’s shoulder blades and delicately pulled the shirt down over them, enjoying the way Brendon shivered at his touch and let his arms hang limply as the shirt slid down them and on to the floor.
“Put your hands behind your back, Bren.” Ryan whispered into his captive’s ear and Brendon obeyed immediately, moaning again at the warm breath on his sensitive skin.
With practised ease Ryan wrapped the leather belt three times around Brendon’s wrists before buckling it tightly, trapping the boy. Brendon moaned again and wriggled his wrists, testing the bond and finding it immoveable.
“Turn around.” Said that steady voice for the second time and Brendon turned instantly, all hint of rebellion gone as the need for submission that he had never even been aware of overtook him.
Ryan returned to the bunk and sat with his legs crossed in a way that should have been effeminate but somehow wasn’t. He wasn’t new to being a top, in fact he was well practised at it. It took a certain resilient patience and creative imagination that he possessed in droves, but still the sight of Brendon Urie bound helpless and topless in front of him, erection straining unashamedly in his tight pants, was enough to make any guy need a minute to compose himself.
“Stand up straight Brendon, don’t slouch.”
The shoulders straightened and the back arched ever so slightly.
“Chin up, eyes at my feet.”
The head raised a fraction and the brown eyes found the spot in front of them.
“Spread your legs a little.”
The feet shuffled apart a few inches.
“Wider.”
More shuffling.
“Good boy.”
Ryan shifted on the bed and found the baggy and Rizlas that a far less subservient Brendon had discarded what seemed like a lifetime ago. He took his time rolling a perfect joint, his long fingers making easy work of the fiddly business. Brendon could only stand and wait. His eyes risked occasional glances upwards but always returned to that point on the floor at his tormentor’s feet, unable to break the rules that had been imposed for more than a second. Soon the sweet smell of smouldering skunk filled the air once again and Brendon was glad when he heard Ryan rise to his feet and felt him approach once again.
“Open your mouth, little puppy.” Instructed Ryan’s voice, slightly husky from the smoke. Brendon’s lips parted in obedience and Ryan took a long hard pull on the joint before leaning forwards and locking his mouth around Brendon’s, exhaling into the willing opening, feeling the gentle suction as Brendon reciprocated and inhaled deeply. Ryan closed his mouth on Brendon’s, forcing the other boy’s lips together and pulled away.
“Keep it shut.” He ordered, and Brendon held his breath, the intoxicating smoke clouding his mind ever further. Seconds passed like minutes for Brendon and he could not help lifting his eyes to plead with Ryan’s as his body began to beg for oxygen. Ryan simply looked at him, without sympathy and counted the seconds slowly in his head.
“Awwww…You’re really suffering for me aren’t you?”
Brendon whimpered and his body gave up, releasing the smoke in a spluttering cough. He panted heavily, slumping forward for a second before regaining his composure and standing back up straight, eyes lowered once again to the floor.
“Tut tut!” Mocked Ryan. “Guess keeping those beautiful lips of yours closed for more than thirty seconds is too much of a challenge, huh Brenny?”
Brendon whimpered again and looked up with what he hoped was a sorrowful expression.
“Are you going to try again for me?”
“Yes.” Brendon’s response was instant.
“Yes, what?” Ryan’s fingers lifted the bound boy’s chin forcing eye contact.
“Yes, please Ryan….please.”
Ryan tightened his grip on Brendon’s face, lifting his fingers to grip the cheeks, forcing the lips into a parted pout. With his other hand he filled his mouth once again with smoke and pressed it to Brendon’s who once again took it all before clamping his lips shut and staring resolutely into Ryan’s green eyes. This time he would not disobey that voice. They stayed like that for the better part of a minute, staring into one another, the Master and the slave, the owner and the pet; and Brendon knew for sure that he would fall unconscious to the floor before he would open his lips without permission.
“Breathe puppy.” The words came at last and Brendon obeyed letting out a long, desperate sigh, his spinning head dropping uncontrollably onto Ryan’s shoulder. Those beautiful fingers reached up and caressed the back of his neck and the much needed words came as a whisper into his ear. “Good boy.”
* * * *
Lying in his own bunk later that night, unable to sleep, his mind still fuzzy and his wrists still marked, Brendon recalled the way he had seemingly floated in Ryan’s arms after that, barely conscious.
Ryan had held him firmly, and had carefully turned him back to face the wall, lifting his knee to support Brendon beneath the buttocks, his left hand pressed against Brendon’s back, pinioning him against the wall while his right hand worked to unbuckle the belt. Brendon remembered how good his hard cock had felt, pressed against the surface of the wall in front of him and how he had ground his hips a little, desperate for any sort of release. Ryan had stopped untying him for a second then and pressed harder with his knee and his hand, flattening the smaller boy against the wall of the corridor so that Brendon writhed even more wantonly, not caring when Ryan leant forward and whispered humiliating insults into his ear: “Quite the little whore aren’t we Brendon? Humping the wall like a fucking slut.”
Brendon had murmured his agreement and continued to writhe, not noticing that Ryan had returned to work on the belt at his wrists. In an instant his hands had been free and Ryan’s fingers had entwined with him, raising his arms up above his head and pinning them there, his own hips now grinding in time with Brendon’s, his own cock now hard, finally giving in to his want. Ryan had pulsed violently against Brendon’s wriggling frame and little cries had escaped his lips until suddenly Ryan had taken a step back, his hands still pinning Brendon’s to the wall, the only contact that remained between them. Brendon had stuck out his ass without shame, hoping desperately to meet Ryan’s warm crotch once again but Ryan had taken back control and Brendon could only wiggle stupidly against nothing before slowing, submitting and leaning his flushed cheek against the cool wood in front of him.
When he had felt Brendon was calm, Ryan had released his wrists and the arms had slowly dropped back to his sides. Little murmurs of need had still escaped from the younger boy’s lips but he did not move his hips or try to take back the contact.
“What do you say?” Ryan’s voice had come from behind him.
“Thank you, Ryan.”
He had responded as he knew he must and Ryan had walked away, heading for the shower, leaving Brendon in a confused, dizzy mess. He had considered staying there until Ryan returned, longing for more of anything. It seemed impossible now to take back control of his own body, impossible to peel himself from the wall and return to being bouncy, bossy, Brendon Urie.
And yet with each passing minute the eroticism drained from the situation and reality seeped in, until his predicament had seemed ridiculous and he had hurried back to his own bunk, face burning with shame at his own behaviour.