One-Night Stand Forever - [Seven]

[undermydesk]

"Hi, I'm Jon."

And even though Ryan was only twelve weeks along and barely showing under his snug-fit cotton v-neck, Jon couldn't help but bend down and press an eager ear against the outcurved section of Ryan's stomach, his face glowing as if he'd just witnessed a miracle. He spread his fingers on both sides of his head and listened closely, tongue poking out between his thin lips in concentration. And despite the lack of excitement that came with something actually happening, he still gasped and chuckled.

Ryan wanted him to be the baby's father.

"How could you tell?" the pregnant boy asked, sporting his own smile and leaning his pelvis forward with sturdy hands on his lower back.

People never noticed. He often wondered why, seeing as he wouldn't be surprised if someone got down on their knees and tried milking him. But at this stage in his pregnancy, he wouldn't care, especially if the person was hot and around his age and had a penis of their own. But, back to the point, he was a cow. He ate like one, probably even smelt like one, and definitely looked like one. When he got naked before every shower, he would examine himself in the bathroom mirror, picking apart every little detailed aspect of his body. The bump was the worst part. But to others, it seemed to be their favorite.

Jon straightened his ripped-jean legs. His bared teeth nearly blinded Ryan. "You have this aura about you. I can sense it radiating off of you." A rough palm ghosted across the fabric adorning Ryan's midsection. "I see it all around you. It's beautiful."

Brendon made a show of rolling his eyes behind the bearded boy, but Ryan was too entranced in Jon to notice. He nearly fainted in overwhelming, school-girl fashion.

Jon's mouth hung open in fascination while he outlined Ryan's form with his eyes, perhaps viewing the "aura". "Would you mind if I got a few nude photos of you? Pregnancy is such a magnificent gift and I'd love to capture that."

The choice barely required thought, so Ryan nodded with glazed eyes and Jon was quick to circle around him like a hawk around its prey, except he was admiring it, taking in every detail to ensure the best angle. Brendon clutched onto Jon's arm and dragged him a few feet away. Ryan frowned. He longed for more compliments and adoration; he hadn't recieved much in the past few months besides the usual, "You're so cute," by William and Gabe.

"What the fuck are you doing?" Brendon spat. "I said you could see him, not mold him into some piece of art."

Jon remained indifferent. He glanced over at Ryan with a gleam in his eye and said, "You never said I couldn't."

Ryan smiled at Jon's heavily-beaded wrists shooting out to make frames with his fingers.

Brendon's fingers closed around Jon's forearm yet again. "Well I'm saying it now."

As Brendon marched and Jon floated off into the party crowd, Ryan heard a soft, flowy, "I'm a free spirit, B. If you were one, you'd let yourself love your baby. I see it in you."

But Ryan didn't care about Brendon loving the baby anymore. He was hopelessly in love with Jon. He was in love with Jon's organic sandals. He was in love with his tweed vest. He was in love with the scruff that made his face so incredibly handsome.

Brendon's face wasn't so handsome. It was more of an adorable one, except when words were flowing out of it, then it was downright ugly. To Ryan, it was horrid at the moment.

"Listen," Brendon ordered. He struggled past a few people as he returned, and Ryan was reluctant to snap out of his daydream. The one where it was 7 AM and Ryan was packing a peanut butter sandwich and a juice box into an insulated Toy Story lunchbox while Jon's roar of laughter could be heard coming from the living room, accompanied by the small squeal of someone being tickled. "He's the only one that gets to know about this. You better swear to me that you won't tell anyone else because it was your blabbering that got it spread all around Bishop Gorman." Brendon pushed his hands out in front of him in a way that suggested he was about to shove Ryan, but his eyes flashed towards Ryan's stomach and he went rigid.

Ryan's eyes went down to his own fumbling hands. "Only Gabe and William know," he mumbled. He picked at a brittle nail and questioned the reservedness that always emerged whenever Brendon came around. It had to be the lack of restraint when dealing with anger. Ryan had to admit he would be forever terrified of being the cause of Brendon's infuriation.

"That's two people that could have easily been left out of the picture. For all we know, they've already informed the entire population of Bishop Gorman and Palo Verde." Brendon bit his lip as his eyes raced around the room, scanning heads to make sure no one was staring; to make sure no one knew about his mistake.

Ryan found Brendon's extreme insecurity hilarious, but decided it would be best to keep the humor to himself. He surveyed the room as well, eyes landing on a pair of boys doing nothing but kissing and groping against the crowded living room wall.

"William and Gabe aren't telling anyone."

"What?" Brendon's eyes moved back to Ryan and his grip visibly tightened around the red cup in his hand. Ryan briefly wondered how many times it had been refilled. "How do you know that?"

Ryan avoided the dark brown stare by feigning interest in a nearby girl's lengthy skirt. "They're always too busy making out," he muttered.

A breathy laugh escaped Brendon's lips, but he sucked it back in before the other boy had the chance to notice. But Ryan did notice. He also noticed that when he met the other boy's gaze he could see something shift. It was obvious that Brendon was more skilled at hiding behind some creative facade. Brendon's wall was made of bulletproof metal, hurricane glass, fire retardant curtains, everything combined to construct a sort of forcefield specifically resistant to Ryan. Ryan couldn't figure out how to prepare his own wall, so he resorted to hoping his lack of words made up for it.

But then again, Ryan was a random kid with a blender for a mind. Maybe this was the real Brendon, right in front of him. Raw, uncut Brendon. Some people were most inclined to reveal their secrets to complete strangers. And maybe he and Brendon weren't complete strangers, but...

Ryan was still a teenager. He felt he deserved the right to possess at least an ounce of hope.

So Brendon turned away and swam into the mass of people while Ryan stood in the same spot, cupless, thinking back to his old life a few months ago, when Friday nights were crammed with homework and conversing with the wall of his bedroom. But now he was at another party, similar to the beginning of it all. He decided to live it up. He was an adolescent, after all, meaning there were raging hormones inside of him, and he wasn't mistaken when he saw the look Jon gave him.

Or maybe he was. Because Ryan waded into the backyard with a facial expression that he had cooked up on his way through the crowd, one that he hoped would say, "I agree to your proposal, yet I have one of my own." And there was Jon. Kissing another boy.

The worst wasn't that they were kissing. It was that they were kissing. Real kissing, with care and sensitivity and everything that Ryan had never experienced in a kiss.

The boys broke apart with puffed gasps and Jon's eyes slid over the other boy's shoulder and onto Ryan. His open mouth turned up into a grin. He leaned forward to whisper in the other boy's ear and they stood up, hands linked, and made their way across the backyard patio and over to Ryan.

"Spencer, this is Ryan. Ryan, this is the love of my life, Spencer Smith."

Ryan loathed Spencer Smith; the cerulean eyes and the intricately designed leather band around his head and his whole existence.

Spencer's incandescent smile was brighter than the floodlight they were all standing under and Ryan managed a glare at him that might have been mistaken as an attempt to get the light out of his eyes.

"Brendon's told me so much about you," Spencer nearly sang. His voice was way too saccharine for Ryan's taste.

"Oh, really?" he questioned, adding the signature monotone he had learned to perfect. He truly didn't care what Spencer was saying, or what Brendon was telling him. Knowing Brendon, he was probably just talking shit.

Spencer nodded, a cherry red lip pulled between his teeth and brightness in his eyes. He cuddled into Jon's shoulder and glanced back at Ryan. Ryan was dripping with jealousy by the time Jon raked his fingers through Spencer's hair.

"He said he couldn't imagine anyone else carrying his baby." Ryan turned his attention back to Spencer and furrowed his eyebrows in confusion. "He's really glad you're the one."

Ryan couldn't help but spit out, "What?"

Jon's hand sneaking into Spencer's back pocket was in perfect view. He chuckled and said, "Listen, Ryan. Brendon might seem like the biggest douche in the world, but since you're pregnant with his kid and all, we'll let you in on a little secret: he's a huge softy."

With hesitance and a bit of disgust lacing his eyes, Ryan watched Spencer's pale hand travel over to his right shoulder. He winced and fought the desire to shrug it off. He wasn't a complete dick.

"We're glad it's you, too. You're a good person."

"But you barely know me," he blurted out, flapping his hands randomly in the air.

Jon winked. "We can just tell."

"Besides, it's been 13 weeks, right? That means next week is your last chance for an abortion, and seeing as you waited this long, I have a feeling you won't be getting one," Spencer chimed in.

"Yeah?" Ryan asked defensively. "How do you know I'm not going to adopt it out?"

Spencer flashed him another candy-coated smile and pointed down at his stomach, seemingly immune to Ryan's hostility towards him. "You've had your hand on your belly the entire time you've been out here. You already feel like he or she is a part of you, because it's true."

Jon bent his head and pecked his boyfriend on the lips in agreement.

They knew him better than himself, and for that alone, Ryan couldn't tell if he wanted to hug them or light them on fire.

He made his way back into the house and checked in with William - who had insisted, no matter how many times Ryan reminded him that nothing worse could happen - then moved on to locate Brendon. It was proving difficult. Everyone was packed together so tightly Ryan thought he would faint. A protective hand remained glued to his midsection and he crouched and ducked and slid to emerge through the crowd.

When he had reached the hallway, he drifted freely, mainly staring at the white bedroom doors in hopes that Brendon would magically appear on the other side of one. He contemplated opening them, but then realized some issues could arise, then considered knocking on each, which would probably earn him angry, sex-crazed teenagers.

For a moment he leaned against the bare wall and suddenly pushed himself off, taking the few steps forward to press his ear against cold wood. A few shuffling noises and then a girl's moan, loud and clear. Ryan moved on to the next door.

He jumped when a pair of hands lightly brushed the sides of his waist and turned around.

"Voyeur?" Travis asked.

Ryan gulped. "I-I was looking for someone."

He could feel the blood bubbling up under his cheeks and pointedly avoided the general area that housed Travis's face.

Travis chuckled, his septum piercing jiggling with every breath in and out. "You're pretty damn adorable."

He replaced his hands on Ryan's sides, but left one hand to float up to Ryan's chin and direct Ryan's lips to his own.

Ryan's first instinct was to struggle, to shove at Travis's plaid flannel, to hold his lips tightly closed, but he gave in after only a few soft strokes of a thumb across his nearly non-existent hip bone.

Falling into the embrace, Ryan opened his mouth to allow entrance to Travis's eager tongue. Their mouths and bodies moved in sync for a few short minutes and embarrassingly, Ryan was already growing hard. He hadn't done anything to himself in weeks in order to avoid scarring his baby for life, but now, he reasoned that letting someone else do something to him wouldn't seem so bad.

In an immediate shock of realization, Ryan fisted his hands in Travis's shirt and let himself kiss one more second before moving away, gasping for breath.

He was about to remind Travis about the current situation until he realized Travis couldn't be reminded; he didn't know in the first place. He settled for, "I can't."

Travis pouted. A tattooed hand reached out to pet at Ryan's cheek. "Come on, baby. We won't do anything you don't want to." His hand moved to the back of Ryan's neck to reel him in, stretching his neck to whisper an added, "I just wanna finger you."

Ryan whimpered and shot a hand down to palm himself through his jeans, the other stable on Travis's shoulder to hold himself up. Travis took the opportunity to duck his head and catch Ryan's lips with his own. The force sent them straight into the door behind them, knocking Ryan's backbones against the wood.

"You wanna come for me?" Travis teased, sliding his hand down Ryan's hip to cover the busy hand with his own, adding more pressure onto Ryan's tented jeans.

Ryan arched up into the touch and shoved his tongue into the other boy's mouth. With each roll of his hips, his lower back rammed into the door again and again.

And then he was falling, floating into oblivion because it just felt that good. But steady hands on his back brought him back to reality.

"What the fuck, Ryan?"

His lips detached from Travis's and he took in his surroundings. He had gone through the opened door and was in what seemed to be a guest room, with mint green walls and floral decorations, and Brendon was right next to him, wearing nothing but unbuttoned jeans.

"Sorry, man," Travis said, tugging on the hem of Ryan's shirt to lead him back into the hall. "Didn't mean to interrupt."

As they reached the doorway, another force pulled him back into the room.

"It's okay, we were just finishing up. I need to talk to Ryan, though."

Travis, now a few feet away, quirked an eyebrow.

Ryan twisted around to see a red-faced Brendon and a petite blonde boy pulling his shirt over his head. The boy moved briskly out of the room, awkwardly coughing into his fist as he went.

"Can't it wait until later?" Ryan pleaded. He had an issue in his jeans, one that Brendon noticed and smirked down at, still clutching onto Ryan's shirt.

"Nope."

Travis huffed. "What the fuck, man? That's fucked up."

"Yeah, whatever. Bye," Brendon muttered, slamming the door in Travis's dumb-founded face. He grasped onto Ryan's forearm and guided them to the bed to sit down. Brendon sat cross-legged and observed Ryan biting his lip as his eyes raced around the room. It was obvious the only thing he had on his mind was sticking his hand in his pants. "Do it."

"Hm?"

"Touch yourself. I don't care. I've seen you naked before."

Ryan pursed his lips and shook his head vigorously, staring down at his lap while trying not to allow his gaze to stray upon his erection.

"If you insist," Brendon grumbled, hands first moving to his mouth and then flying to Ryan's zipper, expertly shimmying his saliva-coated palm and fingers between Ryan's skin and his briefs. Ryan gasped and fell back onto the bed, using the feet he had planted on the floor to push himself further into Brendon's grip.

His throat was dry when he whined, "Why?"

"Why what?" Brendon asked. He increased the pace, sliding his hand up and down Ryan's erection with vigor as he studied the other's face.

The older boy had a forearm covering his eyes but his nose and mouth were in plain view, both unsure of what to do. Air was released sporadically through his nostrils and his lips were holding a steady cycle of open, close, open, close.

In a desperate attempt to form words and figure out what the hell Brendon was doing, he forced out a noise which solely resulted in a moan that echoed around all of the useless ceramics on the dressers and shelves of the room. Brendon laughed under his breath. He slid down onto his side but kept his hand in place, smearing Ryan's precome and expertly massaging his thumb around the head of the boy's cock. His other hand went under his head, bending his elbow to support his upper body.

Finally catching a moment of coherent thought, Ryan snaked his arm back to his side and strained his neck to look over at Brendon, who appeared completely content and had his body leaning toward Ryan as if they were having a sleepover and he was awaiting some dirty secret.

Ryan's brain was throbbing with the misunderstanding of the entire situation. He shut his eyes and let his head fall back, deciding to focus entirely on the fact that he was receiving a handjob. He began by diminishing Brendon's face from his mind, piece by piece. The boys eyes were first to go, dissolving into the black behind Ryan's eyelids, and then the nose. But the lips. The lips. Ryan couldn't get past imagining those lips wrapped around him.

"F-fuck," he grunted. Brendon's hand continued its work and Ryan's hips accompanied it as he bucked up, pushing onto the toes of his black Converse shoes, body growing warmer.

It washed over his toes and crept up into his thighs, making a point to stop at his groin and add a jolt of electricity. Within seconds, the sensation filled him completely, tumbling through him in waves of ecstasy. His hand flew up to his mouth and he bit down with a groan.

Brendon's hand remained in place as Ryan fucked his fist and rode out his orgasm. He smirked, but Ryan's fallen eyes made it impossible for him to see it.

"So," Brendon began, removing his hand from Ryan's jeans and wiping it on the sheets, "Now that you're... more composed, why what?"

One tentative, hazel eye appeared from behind Ryan's lid. "Why did you do that to me?"

The rasp in his voice along with the additional solemnity made it sound like Brendon had done something non-consensual. The younger boy howled in laughter. "Are you fucking kidding me? You know you wanted it."

Ryan closed both eyes again and shook his head against the comforter. Brendon was quick to retreat from the bed and point an accusing finger.

"I know what you're doing," he exclaimed with a shaky voice. "You're going to use this against me. You let me do that just so you can go tell everyone I raped you, huh?"

"No," Ryan whispered, raising himself up to support himself on bent arms. He stared at a violet vase over in the corner, but could feel Brendon's glare burning into his skin. "I won't tell anyone."

"Then why the hell did you ask why I did it? I obviously did it to make you shut up so I could talk to you."

Ryan moved his gaze over to the boy in front of him. "What did you want to talk about?"

"I don't know. Maybe how you were about to fuck Travis McCoy!" Brendon pulled at his hair, surprising Ryan with his sudden outburst of anger. "Fuck, Ryan! Do you not understand? You're pregnant! Sure, Travie doesn't know or wouldn't care, but are you even thinking about the baby? Do you want the kid to grow up with a whore for a father?"

A chuckle fell from Ryan's lips. The flame in Brendon's eyes grew brighter.

"What's so funny?"

Ryan shook his head and his eyes flickered to the large bump under his shirt. "You care about the baby."

This time, it was Brendon's turn to laugh. He threw his head back and his Adam's apple bobbed with each chortle. When it died down, he crossed his arms over his chest. "That's ridiculous, Ryan. I don't give two shits about the thing. You can have an abortion for all I care. In fact, I'm kind of pissed that you haven't had it sucked out of you already."

Ryan flinched at the words. His right palm instantly moved to rub circles around his stomach. Restraining himself from reaching out, fingers were left twitching at Brendon's sides. He stuffed them into his pockets.

"D-don't expect anything," Brendon mumbled, voice lower and more unsure than Ryan had ever heard. He gazed down at his socks and sighed. "That's what I wanted to talk to you about. I really don't care what you do with it. Put it up for adoption, if you want, or raise it. If you decide to keep it, I'll pay child support, but only because I don't want the government on my ass. Just," Brendon paused, lifting his head and shuffling towards the bed to brush the tips of his fingers along Ryan's stomach, "don't expect birthday presents or weekend visits or any type of communication." He stepped back from the bed again and his voice turned icy. It didn't surprise Ryan; Brendon's sincerity could only last for so long. "It's not like it was my fault."

"Are you putting the blame on me again? Or are you accusing me of mistaking you for the father?" Ryan asked, shooting up to stand only feet away from Brendon. "Because I fucked so many guys before you, right? Because I'm a whore?"

"You're gonna pretend you're not?" Brendon shouted. "You were totally about to let Travis fuck you against the wall."

"Well, yeah, I figured after the first time it wouldn't really matter who I was fucking anymore. Besides, I'm pregnant if you haven't noticed. My hormones are probably going insane."

Brendon's jaw nearly slammed against the floor.

Ryan scoffed. "What? You don't know what hormones are? Or are you so dumb that it took you this long to realize I'm pregnant?" He alliterated the words with the use of his tongue just in case Brendon was really that stupid.

"I was your first time?" he asked disbelievingly.

He received a nod and a shrug.

His breath caught in his throat. "You mean the first guy, right? You've had sex with girls?"

"No." Ryan grimaced.

"Oh, um, yeah."

It was strange. Ryan was confident that he could now see past all of Brendon's bullshit, but the only thing behind it was more bullshit. He was an ordinary guy waiting for someone to come along so that he could place the blame of his bullshitty life on them. This time around, Ryan unfortunately happened to be that person.

He scrunched his nose. As soon as the ample amount of revelations were thrown into his mind, they were flowing through his teeth. "You knew that I was a virgin all along; you just didn't want face it. That's the reason you'd prefer me as the father. So really, you're the one who doesn't want me to be a whore, beca-"

"Shut up."

Ryan's lips were nearly sewn shut by the two words.

Before he could open them again, Brendon spoke. "Get out." He pointed to the door. "I don't want to talk to you. I don't want anything to do with you."

"Brendon, what about the ba-"

"I don't fucking care about the baby, Ryan!" Tense hands caressed Brendon's temples. He shut his eyes and took a deep breath. "Truthfully, the only thing I want is for the baby to be healthy and happy. I don't want monthly updates, I just want you to be intellegent enough to know what's best for him or her. Just, go fucking see a doctor or something."

"I already made an appointment for Tuesday afternoon," Ryan mumbled. His nimble fingers tugged at a thread on the blanket while thoughts raced through his mind. He decided to get up and exit the room, but halted with his hand around the doorknob. Without looking back, he asked, "What do you want me to do when I start showing?"

The other boy's voice was muffled as he pulled his shirt over his head, but Ryan heard it, loud and clear. "Do anything you want, but don't tell anyone it's mine."

Ryan hummed in acknowledgement and walked out.