As Deep As The Sky Under My Skin
Title: As Deep As The Sky Under My Skin
Summary: Looking at you, holding my breath. For once in my life I'm scared to death. I'm taking a chance, letting you inside.
Rating: NC -17
Pairing: Ryan/Jon
Authors Note: First attempt at porn :/
Jon got off on movement.
Not, like, every time he moved he popped a boner. Not like that. But when he was jarred; when he fell, or when someone accidentally--or not so accidentally--bumped into him, he was in trouble. It was on stage, though, that really got his blood rushing, his heart jumping, and heat began pooling in his stomach. He often wondered if that made him a masochist.
That night wasn't that different. But Spencer's drum beats seemed to pound through him more, the stage seemed to shake under him, and Brendon's voice seemed louder, more powerful that ever before. By the end of the set, he was practically trembling, the need to get off almost making him sick.
"You okay, man?" asked Spencer, passing him on his way back to the bus.
"Fine," he mumbled, watching everyone head pass him
"You sure?"
Jon jumped, turning to see Ryan peering at him from behind his sweaty bangs, eyeliner dripping down his face.
"Yep," he assured him, and goddamn, why did Ryan have to look so hot?
Ryan's eyes seemed to be laughing. "Whatever you say, Jon."
His name sent shivers down his spine, as he watched Ryan stride onto the bus.
It was a hotel night, thank god. Jon didn't think he could be quiet enough in his bunk, but a hotel meant a shower.
"I call Jon!" Ryan shouted, once he had a key card, one foot in the elevator.
Spencer and Brendon shrugged, following Jon onto the elevator. They were quiet on the ride up, exhausted from the show. Jon held his suitcase in front of him to hide his boner. Ryan tipped his head back, exposing his pale throat. Jon took a quick breath when Ryan swallowed, his adams apple bobbing. The elevator stopped, and the four boys trudged off, separating to their respective rooms. Ryan unlocked their door, flipping the light on. They tossed their bags on the floor, and Jon kicked off his shoes, falling back onto a bed. He flipped so his head was hanging off, and he could watch Ryan. Ryan was tugging his many layers off, letting vest, then shirt fall to the floor. Jon tensed as he unbuckled his pants, dropping them. He was now only in his boxers, smooth chest bare and unblemished. Ryan suddenly met Jon's eyes, and they were darker, clouded with some emotion Jon couldn't read. Ryan moved forward, coming to stand in front of Jon, and now all he could see was the obvious bulge in Ryan's pants. Jon's face was hot suddenly, and then Ryan was kneeling in front of Jon.
"I know," he said.
When Jon didn't--couldn't--reply, he went on.
"I see you sometimes. On stage. The look on your face. Or when you get pushed. I can tell. You fucking get off on it."
"Do you. . .does that freak you out?" Jon whispered.
Ryan rolled his eyes, and that was so Ryan. Jon was about to sit up, their little heart-to-heart over. But he found Ryan climbing on top of him, settling himself on Jon's hips.
"Um, Ryan--"
Ryan cut him off. With his lips. Now, it was one thing for Ryan and Brendon to kiss, that was more of their concerts than the actual music. But Jon had never ever ever kissed a boy. Not that Ryan was one hundred percent a boy. But his lips were soft, and warm, and the light weight of him pressing into Jon wasn't bad at all. Then three things happened at once. Ryan ground his ass into Jon's dick, Jon gasped, his eyes rolling back, and they fell to the the ground with a thump. The dull ache spread through Jon, and he let out a moan before he could stop himself. Ryan let out an audible breath, detaching himself from Jon, but then coming to hover over him, sweaty all over again.
"Fuck me."
Jon's eyes widened, but all he could say was, "I don't know how."
Ryan grinned wolfishly. "I'll show you how."
In an instant he was across the room, rummaging through his bag. Jon sat up on his elbows to watch. He surfaced with a small bottle and a condom. Ryan made his way back over to Jon, eyes locked with the other man. Jon was shaking now, and it increased as Ryan hooked his fingers under his boxers and let them drop. All of a sudden, Jon was extremely glad he wasn't going to be bottoming. Then it hit him: he was going to fuck Ryan. Ryan Ross. He didn't have any more time to think, though, because Ryan was pouring lube from the bottle onto his fingers, slicking them up. With an open mouth, Jon watched Ryan reach behind him, and slip a digit in. Ryan bit his lip, eyes fluttering shut, as he finger fucked himself in front of Jon. A few seconds later, he started letting off soft little moans and whimpers. Jon was painfully hard now, every inch of him needing Ryan's slim, warm body under him.
"Ry," he panted.
Ryan's half lidded eyes met his. They held a look Jon had never seen before.
"Stop," Ryan finally commanded, voice husky.
Jon did. Ryan smiled slightly, waiting. It took Jon a second to get the hint, but when he did, he practically tore his shirt, trying to strip as quick as he could. The second he was naked, Ryan was lowering himself onto Jon, who bucked upwards helplessly.
"Hey," Ryan warned, but he wasn't angry.
"Hey your--"
Jon cut off as tight, heat engulfed his leaking cock.
"Holy fuck!" he hissed, letting his head fall back onto the floor.
Ryan chuckled breathlessly, rising back up, and slamming back down. Jon couldn't help the needy moan that escaped his lips. Ryan bent down to kiss Jon again. He pushed him away after a second, wrapping his calloused hands around Ryan's tiny hips, and helped to lift him up, before pulling him back down. Ryan cried out, fingers tightening around Jon's shoulders, as he hit his prostate dead on.
"Shit, shit, shit. Jon."
Jon let his hands roam over Ryan's protruding ribs as the boy rode him, little frame bouncing obscenely over the older boy. After awhile, Ryan smirked, whispering into the moans they were spewing out.
"You like feeling?"
Jon nodded wildly, the familiar heat pooling in his stomach. With a rough thrust of his hips, Ryan sent Jon's head knocking into the dresser. Jon screamed, coming in broken spurts. Ryan let him ride his orgasm out, and Jon gave a last thrust through his hazy state of mind, and then Ryan was coming too, marking their stomachs.
"Ryan," gasped Jon, when they dragged themselves onto a bed. "What the fuck?"
Ryan just smiled, burying his face in Jon's neck, and pulling him closer. Jon kissed the back of Ryan's neck, mind already shutting down with sleep. Before he lost himself in oblivion, he heard Ryan murmur,
"It was Brendon's idea."
Jon really loved his band sometimes.
Summary: Looking at you, holding my breath. For once in my life I'm scared to death. I'm taking a chance, letting you inside.
Rating: NC -17
Pairing: Ryan/Jon
Authors Note: First attempt at porn :/
Jon got off on movement.
Not, like, every time he moved he popped a boner. Not like that. But when he was jarred; when he fell, or when someone accidentally--or not so accidentally--bumped into him, he was in trouble. It was on stage, though, that really got his blood rushing, his heart jumping, and heat began pooling in his stomach. He often wondered if that made him a masochist.
That night wasn't that different. But Spencer's drum beats seemed to pound through him more, the stage seemed to shake under him, and Brendon's voice seemed louder, more powerful that ever before. By the end of the set, he was practically trembling, the need to get off almost making him sick.
"You okay, man?" asked Spencer, passing him on his way back to the bus.
"Fine," he mumbled, watching everyone head pass him
"You sure?"
Jon jumped, turning to see Ryan peering at him from behind his sweaty bangs, eyeliner dripping down his face.
"Yep," he assured him, and goddamn, why did Ryan have to look so hot?
Ryan's eyes seemed to be laughing. "Whatever you say, Jon."
His name sent shivers down his spine, as he watched Ryan stride onto the bus.
It was a hotel night, thank god. Jon didn't think he could be quiet enough in his bunk, but a hotel meant a shower.
"I call Jon!" Ryan shouted, once he had a key card, one foot in the elevator.
Spencer and Brendon shrugged, following Jon onto the elevator. They were quiet on the ride up, exhausted from the show. Jon held his suitcase in front of him to hide his boner. Ryan tipped his head back, exposing his pale throat. Jon took a quick breath when Ryan swallowed, his adams apple bobbing. The elevator stopped, and the four boys trudged off, separating to their respective rooms. Ryan unlocked their door, flipping the light on. They tossed their bags on the floor, and Jon kicked off his shoes, falling back onto a bed. He flipped so his head was hanging off, and he could watch Ryan. Ryan was tugging his many layers off, letting vest, then shirt fall to the floor. Jon tensed as he unbuckled his pants, dropping them. He was now only in his boxers, smooth chest bare and unblemished. Ryan suddenly met Jon's eyes, and they were darker, clouded with some emotion Jon couldn't read. Ryan moved forward, coming to stand in front of Jon, and now all he could see was the obvious bulge in Ryan's pants. Jon's face was hot suddenly, and then Ryan was kneeling in front of Jon.
"I know," he said.
When Jon didn't--couldn't--reply, he went on.
"I see you sometimes. On stage. The look on your face. Or when you get pushed. I can tell. You fucking get off on it."
"Do you. . .does that freak you out?" Jon whispered.
Ryan rolled his eyes, and that was so Ryan. Jon was about to sit up, their little heart-to-heart over. But he found Ryan climbing on top of him, settling himself on Jon's hips.
"Um, Ryan--"
Ryan cut him off. With his lips. Now, it was one thing for Ryan and Brendon to kiss, that was more of their concerts than the actual music. But Jon had never ever ever kissed a boy. Not that Ryan was one hundred percent a boy. But his lips were soft, and warm, and the light weight of him pressing into Jon wasn't bad at all. Then three things happened at once. Ryan ground his ass into Jon's dick, Jon gasped, his eyes rolling back, and they fell to the the ground with a thump. The dull ache spread through Jon, and he let out a moan before he could stop himself. Ryan let out an audible breath, detaching himself from Jon, but then coming to hover over him, sweaty all over again.
"Fuck me."
Jon's eyes widened, but all he could say was, "I don't know how."
Ryan grinned wolfishly. "I'll show you how."
In an instant he was across the room, rummaging through his bag. Jon sat up on his elbows to watch. He surfaced with a small bottle and a condom. Ryan made his way back over to Jon, eyes locked with the other man. Jon was shaking now, and it increased as Ryan hooked his fingers under his boxers and let them drop. All of a sudden, Jon was extremely glad he wasn't going to be bottoming. Then it hit him: he was going to fuck Ryan. Ryan Ross. He didn't have any more time to think, though, because Ryan was pouring lube from the bottle onto his fingers, slicking them up. With an open mouth, Jon watched Ryan reach behind him, and slip a digit in. Ryan bit his lip, eyes fluttering shut, as he finger fucked himself in front of Jon. A few seconds later, he started letting off soft little moans and whimpers. Jon was painfully hard now, every inch of him needing Ryan's slim, warm body under him.
"Ry," he panted.
Ryan's half lidded eyes met his. They held a look Jon had never seen before.
"Stop," Ryan finally commanded, voice husky.
Jon did. Ryan smiled slightly, waiting. It took Jon a second to get the hint, but when he did, he practically tore his shirt, trying to strip as quick as he could. The second he was naked, Ryan was lowering himself onto Jon, who bucked upwards helplessly.
"Hey," Ryan warned, but he wasn't angry.
"Hey your--"
Jon cut off as tight, heat engulfed his leaking cock.
"Holy fuck!" he hissed, letting his head fall back onto the floor.
Ryan chuckled breathlessly, rising back up, and slamming back down. Jon couldn't help the needy moan that escaped his lips. Ryan bent down to kiss Jon again. He pushed him away after a second, wrapping his calloused hands around Ryan's tiny hips, and helped to lift him up, before pulling him back down. Ryan cried out, fingers tightening around Jon's shoulders, as he hit his prostate dead on.
"Shit, shit, shit. Jon."
Jon let his hands roam over Ryan's protruding ribs as the boy rode him, little frame bouncing obscenely over the older boy. After awhile, Ryan smirked, whispering into the moans they were spewing out.
"You like feeling?"
Jon nodded wildly, the familiar heat pooling in his stomach. With a rough thrust of his hips, Ryan sent Jon's head knocking into the dresser. Jon screamed, coming in broken spurts. Ryan let him ride his orgasm out, and Jon gave a last thrust through his hazy state of mind, and then Ryan was coming too, marking their stomachs.
"Ryan," gasped Jon, when they dragged themselves onto a bed. "What the fuck?"
Ryan just smiled, burying his face in Jon's neck, and pulling him closer. Jon kissed the back of Ryan's neck, mind already shutting down with sleep. Before he lost himself in oblivion, he heard Ryan murmur,
"It was Brendon's idea."
Jon really loved his band sometimes.