Owned Part Ten A
Ryan being Ryan he began to research. He read anything and everything he could get his hands on that had to do with the art of dominance and submission. He trawled through countless images online, some which scared the bejesus out of him quite frankly, but some which intrigued and aroused him in a previously inconceivable way.
He began to acquire particular tastes. Bondage was definitely high up on his list of interests. There was something artistic and beautiful about a helplessly bound body that Ryan’s well-tuned eye could appreciate. He liked the way leather straps looked when they were pulled so tight around flesh that they dug in a little bit. He liked the way rope looked when it was bound in intricate ties around a woman’s breasts or a man’s torso or anywhere at all. He liked the way a body looked when it was suspended helplessly by the arms or the waist. He even liked the various harnesses and hoods made from rubber and leather and latex and metal and any number of other tactile materials, though some of them were a little too Pulp-Fiction-esque. He was always careful to clear the history from his web browser after these little research sessions, imagining precious little Spencer’s face if he inadvertently stumbled on some of this shit. Poor Princess Spence thought Ryan fondly.
Yes, bondage was definitely something he wanted to get good at and once Ryan Ross set his mind to something he was always going to succeed at it. The only difficulty he could foresee was getting Brendon Urie to stand still long enough for him to practise. But Ryan loved a challenge.
The opportunity for experimentation did not present itself for several days, during which Ryan and Brendon continued to test the boundaries of this new relationship, not in the physical sense but mentally and verbally whenever they could. There was the time Brendon got cocky after a show and tried to smack Ryan on the ass (“I think it has been firmly established that any ass smacking that goes on around here will be executed by me.”). There was the time when Brendon and Ryan found themselves walking back to the bus together in the dark (“Why don’t you get down on all fours and crawl along in front of me Brendon…I like to watch your ass wiggle.”) And of course there was the time when Brendon crawled into Ryan’s bunk after everyone had fallen asleep and curled up in a ball by his owner’s feet (“Mmmm…hey baby…those toes could use some kisses , since you’re there.”)
But all this foreplay was really only causing frustration and by Friday Ryan was forced to avoid Brendon for fear that he might grab him and bend him over the nearest table whilst they were in company.
Fortunately Friday’s show was the last one for a couple of days and Ryan managed to find time during the afternoon to scout out a hotel room that was suitably furnished for what he needed and book it for two nights. A quick visit to a hardware store provided everything he needed and he left the bags of goodies in the hotel room, pocketing the key card, before returning to the venue.
On stage that night Ryan was a little distracted. He even approached Brendon voluntarily and guided him to his knees during Lying is the Most Fun…, which was a rare treat for the screaming teenies. Brendon looked delighted and remained on the floor for some time, looking up at Ryan and singing the words straight at him: “I've got more wit, a better kiss, a hotter touch, a better fuck than any boy you'll ever meet, sweetie you had me”. Ryan rolled his eyes at the irony and couldn’t resist ruffling Brendon’s hair before returning to his mic stand and hoping no-one noticed his cock straining in his ultra tight pants.
“Two days ooooooooooooooooooooooff!!!” Squealed Spencer in his girliest voice, appearing behind Ryan and wrapping both arms around his best friend’s shoulders, planting a sloppy kiss on his bizarrely sweat-free cheek.
“Actually Spence, I’ve booked you to fill in for Andy for a couple of days on their tour so he can go get a hair cut. Your plane leaves in a half hour.”
“Ha ha very funny, dork.” Spencer grabbed Ryan’s hat off his head and skipped off down the corridor. If Brendon ever gets bored of being my bitch I reckon Spence could do with an ass whipping mused Ryan.
Brendon was already in the shower when Ryan arrived at the dressing room, judging by the high pitched strains of some 80s pop song that were wafting across the room.
Jon sat in the corner, shirtless and knackered. “You going out now?” He asked Ryan, though the look on his face suggested he wasn’t inviting himself along, even if the answer was affirmative.
“Kind of…I booked a hotel room…Bren’s coming too…you wanna…errr?” Ryan knew that Jon would say ‘no thanks’. For such a giant dufus Jon was a pretty perceptive guy. And anyway it hadn’t exactly taken a genius to work out that there was something going on between the singer and the guitarist. Brendon had been walking around like he’d slept with a coat hanger in his mouth for the last few days and Ryan hadn’t brooded in nearly a week.
“No, you’re alright dude, Spencer and I already have an all night gaming tournament planned…just seeing if you wanted in on the action.”
“Because I’m such a computer games type of a guy, right?”
“Point taken.”
It was at this moment that Brendon emerged from the shower, pink towel tied around his waist, far-too-innocent grin on his face. He strolled past Ryan and shot him a smug glance before standing in front of the mirror and running his fingers though his wet hair.
“What?” Asked Ryan as Jon grinned and got up to go find Spencer.
“Nothing.” Said Brendon, not looking at him, the smug grin still in place.
“You heard us talking didn’t you?” Brendon was so fucking transparent.
“Maybe…”
“Maybe is not an answer Brendon.”
The younger boy looked up at him. “Okay yes.”
“Nosy little fucker.” Ryan scolded and moved behind him to wrap his arms around his torso. Brendon was so cute when he was like this. Childish and playful and kind of dumb.
“Well since it’s not a surprise any more perhaps I’ll change my mind.”
“No!” Brendon answered, quickly, giving away his eagerness all too easily.
“Put some clothes on that fat little ass of yours then Urie and meet me out back.” Ryan left the room to find Spencer and try and retrieve his hat. Someone from management had arranged a car and Ryan was pleased to find both it and Brendon waiting at the back of the building when he opened the door into the cool night air. Brendon held the car door for his friend and gestured inside, bowing slightly like a Victorian coachman.
“Geek.” Commented Ryan as he slid past him and into the rear seat of the car. Brendon climbed in next to him and they were both suddenly apprehensive as the driver pulled away towards the hotel. This was the first time they had made an actual plan to do this. At least this was the first time that other people had kind of been aware of their plan, even though the exact details were still a secret. The brief moment of tension was broken by Brendon shrieking “Oooh turn it up” when Gwen Stefani’s Sweet Escape came on the radio. The chauffeur tried not to look too bemused as he “Ooooooh hooooed” and “Yeeeee hooooooed” happily for the rest of the journey.
They pulled up outside the hotel and a concierge opened the car door. They climbed out and walked up the steps, Ryan taking the lead looking serious and businesslike, Brendon bouncing along behind like a puppy that had been locked in a car for eight hours, barely able to contain his excitement. This is definitely going to be a challenge thought Ryan as they waited for the elevator, Brendon bobbing energetically from foot to foot, humming tunefully and grinning like a Cheshire cat.
On the fourth floor they stepped out and Brendon followed Ryan along several corridors until they reached their room, ironically named the Liberace Suite. Ryan let them in and immediately went and sat down on the brown leather armchair, beside which was the box he had placed there earlier in the day. Brendon began his traditional scout of the suite, listing what he found like he was making an inventory: “Mini bar” … “Dressing gowns. Burgundy ones. That’s different.” … “Jackpot! Jacuzzi bathtub! And they left like a pint of bubble bath. Fools!” … “Copy of the bible. Pretty standard.” … “Oh my fuck, it’s the Holy Grail of all hotel amenities!…” Brendon reappeared from the bedroom holding a tiny packet out in front of him like it was a bomb that might explode: “Mini-self-contained-sewing-kit-complete-with-weird-flat-needle-threading-thing-and-spare-button!”
The look of utter delight on Brendon’s face would normally have melted Ryan’s insides and made him want to kiss him. On this occasion, however, Ryan gave him a stern look.
“Go put that back please Brendon. I didn’t say you could touch.”
“Oh!” Whined Brendon, sticking out his bottom lip and stomping back through to the bedroom, the precious sewing kit clutched in his fist.
Ryan took the opportunity while Brendon was sulking to lay out a few items on the floor in front of him: Rough hemp rope in 6 foot lengths tied neatly into bows, black rubber electrical tape, the leather collar. When Brendon returned he stopped in his tracks when he caught sight of the purchases.
“Someone’s been busy.” He joked but there was an edge of fear in his voice.
“Come here Brendon.” Ryan ordered, crossing his legs elegantly and sitting back in the armchair to look at the boy.
Brendon shuffled towards where Ryan sat, pursing his lips and moving his mouth from side to side, looking a little confused. He stopped with the little pile of items on the floor between him and Ryan and crossed one pink socked foot over the other, his hands deep in his pockets, shoulders raised.
“Damn you look cute in that sweater, Bren.” Ryan remarked, referring to the blue stripy jumper that Brendon had taken to wearing daily.
Brendon smiled shyly and looked at Ryan, furrowing his eyebrows together and nodding at the things on the floor. “What are those for Ry?”
“What do you think they’re for baby?” Ryan answered, his voice gentle and nurturing, wanting to calm Brendon, encourage that childish streak out but soften it, quiet it down to submission.
“For me?” Brendon’s voice was soft too, slightly higher in pitch then usual and very, very cute.
“That’s right.”
“What are you going to do to me?”
“Nothing nasty baby, I promise.” Ryan couldn’t have hurt him now even if that had been the intention. Brendon was just being too fucking adorable. “I just want you to be a model for me. Do you think that you can do that?”
“A model?” Ryan could tell that the deliberate compliment was having the desired affect.
“Yes baby. I want you to stand like a model for me while I practise something. I want you to keep your body good and still for me so I can bind it up and make it look pretty. Will you do that for me?”
Brendon’s face was pink and he was blinking his eyes trying to understand what was being asked of him.
“Why Ryan?”
“Because this is what I want Brendon.”
“But don’t you want to…?” Ryan knew exactly what Brendon was trying to say.
“You want me to hurt you?”
“…No.”
“Are you lying?”
“…Yes.” Brendon couldn’t help a cheeky grin but checked it immediately.
“And since when were you allowed to make requests?” Ryan’s voice had found that hardness again and he was sitting more upright, slightly relieved and slightly annoyed that Brendon was submitting so willingly.
“I just…we’ve got this room…and it’s been days…and I can’t stop thinking…”
“Not very patient, are we Brendon?”
“I have been patient” He whined. “I have!”
“Awww, poor baby.” It suddenly dawned on Ryan what an effort the last few days must have been for his eager friend. “You’ve been trying so hard and now mean old Ryan isn’t giving you what you want.”
Brendon cringed at the baby voice Ryan was using to address him but held firm and responded. “You know what I want.”