Title: In My Mouth.
Word Count: ~3900.
Warnings: Name-calling, ass-to-mouth, humiliation, toys, mentions of fisting, and other BDSM themes.
Summary: Ryan wants it, needs it, begs for it. As always, Brendon makes him earn every glorious second.
"Understand the preciousness of the unfulfilled desire. Begin
to feel appreciation for the fact that the desire exists, rather than
instant disappointment that it has not manifested."
The afternoon after the milk enema, Ryan made an excuse about a headache after lunch, giving Brendon a meaningful look as he slipped out of the dressing room, heading for the bus. Nobody really gave a second look when the singer got up to follow Ryan. The game of excuses and pretending you didn't know when everyone was having sex was laughable in itself. The actual details, fortunately, were still mostly a mystery.
Ryan didn't know how he'd be able to look Spencer in the face if he knew what Ryan begged Brendon to do to him. That was why threatening to have the drummer watch was one of Brendon's favorite threats. As soon as they unlocked the bus and slipped inside, Ryan slid to his knees. "You didn't come in my mouth yesterday," he whispered as Brendon waited expectantly. "Can you please fuck me and come in my mouth?"
Brendon thought for a moment. Ryan must have still been clean or he wouldn't have asked. "I don't know that you deserve it," he said after a moment. "Can you give me a reason you deserve it?"
Ryan flushed, fumbling in his head for the words. He hadn't expected that response at all. He searched in his mind for the right answer. He'd been good that morning, but good wasn't generally reason enough for a reward. "I brought you coffee at the shoot?" he asked tentatively.
The younger boy considered the answer for a moment before giving a quick nod. "The lounge, slut." His voice was casual, soft.
Ryan gave a small smile at the pet name, turning--still on his knees--and proceeding to crawl back toward the lounge. He moved quickly, not wanting Brendon to step on his heels and find a reason to deny him. When they slipped into the backroom, Brendon sat down on the couch, leaving the flimsy door open and Ryan still kneeling like a puppy. Brendon didn't say a word, just glanced down at the crotch of his jeans and then waved his wrist in an almost dismissive gesture. His eyes moved around the room, skimming titles of books and movies, making sure not to focus on Ryan.
The older boy moved forward on the floor, placing himself between Brendon's knees and reaching up to undo his fly, his fingers moving quickly, but sure, steady. His fingers hooked in the waistband and Brendon lazily lifted his hips without a word or a glance so Ryan could pull his jeans down along with his underwear. The boy clasped his hands behind his back the way he knew Brendon liked, nosing along the younger boy's thigh until the tip pressed against his lips. He opened his mouth, taking the head in, moaning as he licked the drop of precome from the slit.
Brendon fisted a hand in Ryan's hair, pushing him steadily, forcing the boy to take more. When Ryan finally gagged, choking as Brendon's cock tried to make its way past the opening of his throat, the younger boy held him there for a few seconds before releasing him so he could catch his breath. "Good slut," he murmured appreciatively.
Ryan gave a noise almost like a mew before wrapping his lips around Brendon's erection and taking it into his mouth again, bobbing his head wildly, quickly, like he had no other desire in the world than to worship his boyfriend's dick. Fellatio as Communion. He moaned at the thought, the way it made him feel--dirty, borderline disgusting.
"Enough," Brendon said as Ryan's tongue traced along the edge of the head. He didn't want to come before he'd fucked the boy senseless. "Stand," he said after Ryan had pulled off, looking up at him expectantly. "First, you're going to prep yourself," Brendon continued. "I want you to turn around and bend over so I can watch. You can get lubricant."
Ryan flushed at the idea of bending over, exposing himself so wantonly as he pressed fingers inside. But he didn't argue, just moved quickly to the bunks to fetch the bottle from under his pillow.
"No clothes when you come back!" Brendon called, idly stroking his cock as he waited.
The door of the bus wasn't locked, Ryan remembered as he pulled his shirt over his head, hands hesitating before he began to take off his jeans. And Brendon was leaving the lounge door open. He knew there was no way he could mention it without giving up what he'd asked for. His stomach had a knot in it as he returned to the lounge, wearing nothing but a worried expression and the faint bruises, bottle of lubricant in his hand.
"Go ahead," Brendon told him.
Ryan glanced warily at the open doorway before swallowing, turning to face the way Brendon had told him to as he slicked his fingers up. He bent, feeling awkward and exposed, his cheeks turning a more pronounced shade of red as his hand reached back. He slipped two fingers inside hastily, wanting to hurry. Not only for the sake of not being caught but because he wanted Brendon inside him now.
The younger boy leaned forward, still lazily palming his erection, watching Ryan violate himself as if it were simply an interesting television program. "Fuck yourself on them," he ordered.
Ryan almost whined, swallowing it down before the sound escaped. It wasn't a position conducive for such a thing but he knew better than to say so. His wrist and his back were starting to feel the beginnings of a dull ache as he pulled his fingers most of the way out before shoving them back in, trying to repeat it as fast as he could, feeling clumsy and unattractive.
"Another." Brendon reached out, the pad of his thumb lightly skimming over a small mark that rested just where Ryan's ass curved to meet the top of his thigh. The older boy moaned at the touch, hips pressing back instinctively. He let out a squeak when he felt Brendon's open hand impact against him. "Behave yourself, whore," he ordered sternly, sitting back, sinking into the upholstery of the couch as he continued to watch.
Ryan forced in his ring finger, biting his bottom lip. It wasn't the stretch; it was the angle. Maybe if he had reached between his legs . . . but it was too late to change it now. He moaned, low in the back of his throat, as his fingers brushed over his prostate.
Brendon sat up at the noise, looking more alert. "That's enough, slut. Pull your fingers out and stand up straight." He smiled as Ryan obeyed, whimpering at the loss as his hands fell to his sides. "Listen to all my instructions before you move. You're going to turn around and straddle me. I want you to put the head of my cock inside of you. And then you're going to hold yourself up on your own knees for support until you can't anymore. How long you hold will determine if you can come."
Ryan winced. He'd thought this was a reward for good behavior. Then again, he hadn't asked to come. He'd asked to be fucked and taste Brendon after. His fault for not being more specific. He turned, slowly, and stepped toward the couch, clumsily placing his legs on either side of Brendon's. They were face to face, chest to chest. Ryan had to lean forward and press his weight against the younger boy in older to be able to grab Brendon's cock and position it at his entrance.
Brendon's hands slid down Ryan's back, grasping the boy's cheeks and pulling them apart, exposing him. Ryan moaned, feeling like such a slut even though there was no one to admire the view. He pressed down, awkwardly, trying to press it in. His fingers slipped and he murmured an apology, avoiding Brendon's eyes. Finally, after a minute of struggling and Brendon's silence, it started to slide in. Ryan moaned, pressing down, the head popping in easily. He wanted so much just to sit, impale himself on it, but he couldn't.
"Put your hands on my knees and arch your back," Brendon told him, hands now resting comfortably on Ryan's hips. "And keep your eyes on mine, open at all times, do you understand?"
Ryan nodded, fumbling blindly for Brendon's knees and leaning back, spine at an angle. He hadn't understood until he was in the position. His arms were already taut and his back would start screaming in pain soon. Brendon expected Ryan's elbows to give out, not his knees. The boy whimpered, knowing that if he didn't earn an orgasm at this he probably wouldn't get one until the next day at the soonest.
Ryan started to count backward from one hundred in his mind, trying to focus on something else, imagining wooden beams in his arms that would keep them from falling. Brendon's dark eyes bore into his, as if they were searching, seeing inside him. He was frowning slightly. Ryan whimpered, hoping that he hadn't somehow done something to upset him without knowing. He'd done everything Brendon had said, hadn't he?
He'd gotten just past fifty when his palms slipped about half an inch back on Brendon's knees. His eyes closed in shock as he tried to catch himself, but he could feel more slipping in. Not all, but enough. His bottom lip was trembling as he opened his eyes, now wet, looking at Brendon. He knew he'd messed up. Not with the hands, but with his eyes. The orders had been to hold himself up for as long as he could, but to keep his eyes opened at all times.
The younger boy stared at him, the emotion on his face somewhere between disappointment and annoyance. "You might as well let go completely," he said. "You've already started."
Ryan was desperate to apologize, to beg for forgiveness, but he didn't have permission to speak. He felt Brendon's hands hooking into his elbows, pulling his arms away so he'd lose his support. Ryan still tried to hold himself up, struggling against the angle. One of Brendon's hands slipped from under him to press the older boy down by his shoulders. Ryan choked on his scream at the sudden impalement, trembling, shaking, tears stinging the corners of his eyes and threatening to fall.
Brendon gave him the moment he needed, but not a second more, sharply lifting his hips as soon as he saw Ryan's breathing steady out. The older boy screamed outright that time, falling forward, face in Brendon's shoulder as he felt his boyfriend's cock driving impossibly deeper into him. There were a few sharp thrusts, Ryan shuddering each time until the movement stopped.
"Up," Brendon said quickly.
Ryan looked up him, not sure exactly what the other boy meant but pushing himself up, lifting himself off the cock and standing in front of Brendon, eyes on the floor.
It was a lot more difficult to maneuver in the bus, Brendon thought with a heavy sigh as he moved to stand behind Ryan. The furniture was thin and he really didn't want to allow Ryan to kneel on the couch and rest his knees. Not after he'd closed his eyes. He leaned in, lips against Ryan's ear, voice hot. "Stay here," he whispered. "Don't move, don't touch yourself, palms to your sides. I'll be right back."
Ryan nodded to show he understand, putting his hands at the position and lowering his head submissively as Brendon left the lounge. The younger boy made sure all the blinds were closed and locked the front door before quickly clearing off the table. When he went back to the lounge, Ryan was still in position. He followed Brendon wordlessly when the boy said to.
"Bend over the table, palms up."
Ryan did as he was told and Brendon just stared for a moment, appreciating the sight. Ryan leaning forward presenting his ass, which was mostly it's normal pale hue except for the ever faint bruising just where the cheeks began to curve into the thighs. That spanking had been almost a week ago. Ryan had come without being touched after the seventy-second stroke. Then Brendon had to punish him, again, for coming without permission. Ryan hadn't complained.
Brendon pressed the tip of his cock against Ryan's entrance, fisting a hand in the boy's hair and tugging back, voice low as he spoke. "I'm going to fuck you and you're going to make as little noise as possible. Then you're going to suck my cock and not spill a drop. If you do it well enough, I'll finger you and let you come, understand?"
"Yes," Ryan whispered as loudly as he could with his neck as taut as it was. He would have nodded instead of speaking, but that wasn't possible.
Brendon pushed in without warning, hard and fast, entering Ryan completely within seconds. The older boy bit his bottom lip, trembling, whimpering almost impercievably at the pain. He could hardly breathe with the angle his neck was it, but he didn't care. He liked it that way, liked the struggle. He pressed back against the intrusion and had to fight a small shriek as Brendon's hand impacted against his ass. "Don't beg for it, slut," he snapped. "I'll fuck you how I want to fuck you."
Ryan stopped rocking his hips, wanting to scream, hoping that hadn't been enough to lead to not being able to come. Brendon stayed inside of him for a few more minutes, not moving, just teasing. And then the thrusts started. He'd pull it out all the way before thrusting back in, hard and fast, no rest or pause between the movements. Ryan's fingers were trying to dig into the impossibly smooth surface of the table as he bit the inside of his cheek and tried not to make a sound.
He was doing a good job too, Brendon had to admit. Just heavy breathing and the occasional whisper. No words, no moans. Lips staying closed. It was almost too good of a job, like no effort was required, so Brendon slipped his hand between the boy's legs to start stroking at his cock.
Ryan's grit his teeth together so hard his jaw started to ache. He could feel tears in his eyes as his body desperately wanted to let go and moan, give into the possibility of release right there. But he couldn't. They had an interview before sound check that day and how the hell was he supposed to sit still for an interview if his ass was raw from a spanking? He wished he could at least roll his head forward, stare at the table and try not to cry. But he couldn't with Brendon's hand still fisted in his hair.
He sucked in a deep breath and then clenched his muscles around Brendon's cock. It hurt, but he wanted it to. He could focus on the pain and ignore the pleasure or at least blur the two to the point where the pleasure wasn't so prominent. And Brendon would come faster. Hopefully.
The younger boy swore and Ryan would have smiled if he had the strength to spare. "Jesus, whore," he breathed, fucking Ryan harder, thrusts become shorter but sharper. "Are you trying to make me come?" he whispered in Ryan's ear. When the boy didn't say anything, he tugged harder on the hair. "Answer me."
"Yes," Ryan choked out, trying not to moan.
"Why?" Brendon asked, voice calm.
Ryan shivered. He couldn't tell the truth. Not the whole truth at least. "Want to taste it," he said instead, unable to fight the faintest noise as it escaped his throat. "Please?" he whimpered.
"You want my cock?" Brendon teased, shoving in harder, faster, letting go of Ryan's cock to dig fingernails into his hip instead. Hard enough to almost pierce the skin. "You want my fucking cock, slut?"
"In my mouth," Ryan breathed, thrusting back again, wanting the nails more, harder. He wanted it, just the tiniest droplets of blood from where the skin had barely broken. "In my mouth, Bren, please?"
When the younger boy pulled out, he didn't even have to say a word. Ryan immediately turned, going down to his knees and opening his mouth, hands clasped behind his back as he took the head--and then the rest--into his mouth. His head bobbed frantically, desperately, tongue sliding all over the skin. He mostly tasted the lube and then the faintest hint of bitterness. He knew he was still clean from the enema, but he didn't care. He felt like a dirty whore. He wanted to be a dirty whore. He took more into his mouth, holding himself there as he gagged, pulling off just to press down and choke himself again.
Brendon's finger's were still in Ryan's hair, but not as tight. His head rolled back for a minute, eyes closed, and then he looked down, watching the beautiful spectacle. Ryan, naked, on his knees, choking himself with Brendon's dick. And he was enjoying it, too, his hips rocking against friction they couldn't find. So eager, such a perfect little slut.
Brendon had barely said the word "swallow" when Ryan started to feel it. He pulled off, just enough to hold only the tip in his mouth, swallowing as he felt each droplet of the warm bitterness on his tongue. He continued sucking, swallowing, tasting until Brendon told him stop and he pulled off, staring up expectantly, licking at his lips.
The younger boy smiled, reaching down to run a thumb across Ryan's bottom lip. His mouth was still parted and his breath was coming out in short, airy gasps. "I think," he said softly, "you've earned the right to come."
Ryan didn't say anything, but inwardly he gave a sigh of relief.
"Hands and knees," Brendon told him and the older boy went into position without a moment of hesitation, watching Brendon's feet disappear as the boy walked behind him. And then there were fingers. Three immediately because Ryan was still loose from being fucked. "Stay quiet," Brendon whispered, "but you can fuck yourself if you want."
Ryan didn't have to be told twice, thrusting back hard, silently begging for another, which Brendon gave him quickly. Four fingers. He felt full, but he could have taken more. If they'd had time, he would have asked for it, for Brendon's whole hand up to the wrist, a whole fist inside of him. They didn't do that enough, Ryan mused silently. It scared his boyfriend a bit.
The fingers were gone and Ryan whimpered at the loss, turning to look over his shoulder, wondering what he'd done. "Start touching yourself," Brendon told him. "I'll be right back. Face forward."
Ryan groaned, shifting so he was resting his weight against the arm that he moved flat against the floor, his face almost on the linoleum as he moved his other hand between his legs, stroking himself quickly, but not too quickly, just enough to keep him there. Almost on the edge of no return, but not there yet. He wanted whatever Brendon was thinking about, wanted the extra push. He wanted to be full when he shuddered and his muscles tightened.
And then Brendon was back, kneeling on the floor behind Ryan again. The older boy tensed, waiting, nearly screaming when he felt his boyfriend lean in and do nothing other than blow against his entrance. Tease, he wanted to say, voice dripping with malice. But he couldn't, and he wouldn't have anyway. He was waiting, expecting a shock at any moment.
It came in the form of a barely lubricated vibrator that Brendon pressed into the hilt in one go before switching the vibrations onto high. "Come for me, slut," he said thickly.
Ryan moaned, low in his throat, thrusting back, wrist flying now, twisting on his cock and squeezing. He needed the release now. Oh, God. Brendon was thrusting the toy in and out rapidly and Ryan was choking on screams that he wasn't allowed to give, rocking backward. It was too much, it wasn't enough, all blurred around the edges and he couldn't navigate his way out. Tears were forming in his eyes, leaking down the sides of his face. "P-Please," he choked out.
"Please what?" Brendon asked without ceasing.
Ryan didn't know. He didn't know what he needed. He just needed it, whatever it was. He grit his teeth, still grinding back against the invasion, thumb sliding across the head of his cock. He was close, so close. And, yet, he couldn't bring himself there, not to that point. He gave a dry sob, not sure how to articulate what he needed since he was sure what it was.
Brendon knew though, hand sliding around, slipping between Ryan's legs. Ryan balanced himself on two hands again while Brendon stroked him, working him there, the skin of someone else's hand just enough of an extra push. The younger boy pressed the toy in as far as it would go, holding it there, twisting his wrist, leaning down to nip at the lobe of Ryan's ear.
And he lost it. The boy fell forward, face in the linoleum, not caring as he shuddered and moaned and bucked on the floor, that his come was probably dripping on it, that Brendon was fucking him with the toy against through the climax. His muscles were clenching on it so fucking tight that it hurt and Ryan loved it. And then he collapsed, hands squeezed into fists. He was spent, completely and totally. He didn't know how he'd ever be able to move again.
Brendon kissed him softly behind the ear and then turned the vibrator off, slowly pulling it out, setting it upright on the floor. "Let's get you to your bunk, baby," he murmured. "You did so good. I'm so proud of you." Ryan couldn't respond to the words, just hooked his fingers into the skin of Brendon's arm when his boyfriend lifted him up, tucking him in under the thin blanket and kissing his forehead. "I'll clean up," he said, "come get you in an hour or so, okay?"
Ryan gave a dazed nod.
"I love you, baby."
"Love you," the older whispered back, voice indistinct.
"You're okay, right?" Brendon asked, not overly concerned. Ryan had a tendency to completely lose himself in the moment, drain himself of an energy he'd had stored. He smiled when his boyfriend gave a tired nod, closing his eyes. He looked so beautiful with his bangs stuck to his forehead from the sweat, his lip barely swollen from biting it.
He gave the boy a soft kiss on the cheek before returning to wipe up the floor and the table, clean the toy off and tuck it back in his suitcase. He folded Ryan's clothes and put them at the foot of the boy's bunk, then put his own on before slipping out of the bus and back into the venue. Knowing grins inside told him that everyone thought they knew what had happened. But truly, Brendon thought with a secret smile, they had no idea.