Le Monde Dans Vos Yeux // The World In Your Eyes

Chapter 10

Jon had mentioned his desire to check out the local bars the next day, but Brendon wasn't interested. Instead, he called Ryan, and asked if he was free. He met Ryan for an early lunch. The café was more crowded today, seeing as it was a Friday. He waited around, chatting with Spencer for Ryan's shift to end.

And then, Brendon had a bright idea. "Hey Ryan," he called when Ryan emerged from behind the counter.

"Hmm?" he hummed, and untied his apron.

"There's a piano in my suite. Want to see me play? You... mentioned you wanted to a while ago."

Ryan grinned, and held the door open. "Sure."

It wasn't quite mid-afternoon yet, maybe around 11:00 am. But the sun still shone on the piano brilliantly. Reflecting off the black and white keys, and onto every surface of the room it could reach.

Brendon sat on the bench, tracing his fingers over the familiar pattern of white, black, white, and black. Ryan watched him, and leaned against the back of the sofa.

This is where he belongs, Ryan thought. Brendon looked so at home, his posture relaxed, but professional, with his back straightened, and fingers poised. Ryan could make out the subtle jut of his shoulder blades through his t-shirt.

Again, all his fingers ached to do was touch but Brendon looked like he'd forgotten him now. Fingers loomed over keys for one moment, two, then lightly set down on them, plucking out a few gentle notes. Ryan didn't recognize the song, but he finds himself watching the sway of Brendon's body as he rocked to the rhythm of the music. The song grew more complex, and Brendon's fingers flew fast at times and slower at others. Ryan closed his eyes and let the melody sink into his memory. It was a sweet melody, something he thought he might hear in a lullaby.

When the notes grow more powerful, he opened his eyes to see Brendon's face more focused than before, playing with such force and precision that it shakes Ryan, drawing his attention. A procession of quick notes, and he returned to the quietness of the beginning, letting the notes fade into Ryan's skin.

When he looked up again, Ryan can't think of what to say.

"Chopin," Brendon said, smiling softly. "My favorite. It's the second nocturne in E-flat."

"C'est belle."

Brendon looked around the room, suddenly feeling watched. Ryan searches for words in his head, but none seem to describe Brendon's playing other than, "Beautiful."

"Thanks, it's a really nice piece."

"You're very talented." Ryan walked around the sofa to sit down, and hoped Brendon would follow.

Brendon left the piano after closing the cover and pushing in the stool, of course. "Well, I'd hope so. I've been playing all my life."

Ryan chuckled. "No, it's more than that. There are people who can play the notes perfectly, but you... you know how to play them. There's emotion behind your playing. That's what I mean by talent."

"Well... thanks." Heat rose to Brendon's face as he picked up the camera off the table.

"De rein."

Brendon sat next to Ryan on the sofa. He started looking through his photos on the screen, flicking through the images, and deleting a couple here and there that came out blurred. Pictures from Ireland, England, pictures of Jon, pictures of him making victorious poses by old buildings and statues... Slowly, he approached the pictures from France. Slowly, the pictures stopped being so much of the buildings or scenery, and more of Ryan. There were dozens of pictures of Ryan in various candid poses. Pictures of him in his work apron, pictures of him smiling, pictures of him in the sun, in the dark, lit by the moon reflecting off the water... dozens and dozens of pictures. He almost forgot the man was sitting next to him and this very moment.

He turned his eyes slowly to the right, to catch a glimpse of the subject in his photographs. The light came directly in through the window, warming their skin. Ryan laid his head back on the sofa and closed his eyes.

Brendon couldn't help but raise his camera again. Aim, focus, click. The camera shutter made its soft sound. He looked at the screen, and sighed inwardly. The camera didn't correctly capture the way the sun made Ryan's hair shine or the soft glisten of his milky skin in the light.

Ryan raised his eyebrow, but didn't open his eyes. Brendon stared, and changed the exposure on the camera. Aim, focus, click.

Ryan opened one eye at the second shutter noise. "Porquoi êtes-vous prendre des photos de moi?"

All Brendon could do was to roll his eyes. Seriously, Ryan should know he didn't understand him half the time in English, let alone French. On the screen of the camera, the new photo shone more, a glow emanated from Ryan's features. Brendon smiled at it. A perfect moment captured in time.

Ryan sighed. "Why are you taking pictures of me?"

The camera raised again in front of Brendon's smile. Click. "Because you're so photogenic, that's why..." The screen loaded, and showed an amused Ryan, on the border of laughter and annoyance.

"Can I see?" Ryan asked.

"Only if you pose for me." Brendon lowered the camera to smirk at Ryan curiously. He knew Jon would just roll his eyes and forget all about it. But Ryan... Ryan was unpredictable.

"D'accord." Ryan shifted and sat up straighter. He lifted his chin, and smiled a smile that reached his eyes, and even as far as Brendon's heart.

Aim, focus, click. Brendon looked at the screen. That definitely didn't capture the undertone of the smile. He turned the camera to show Ryan, who made an approving sound.

Brendon took the camera back, and set it to manual again. Ryan grinned, and made a pout. Aim, focus, click. Ryan scrunched his nose. Aim, focus, click. Ryan laughed. Aim, focus, click...

The last photo showed Ryan's eyes closed and his mouth opened with a grin. His collarbones showed under the neck of his navy-blue button-up. Brendon decided this was his favorite of all the pictures so far. He turned to show it to Ryan.

But Ryan didn't seem to care to look at the screen. He kept his eyes on Brendon's, and lifted his long fingers to the collar of his shirt, undoing one button... two... Brendon stared for a moment, and lifted the camera again hesitantly. Aim... focus... click...

He didn't even bother to look at the screen, just lowered it and watched Ryan continue down the line of buttons until the soft shirt fell loose around his shoulders. He swallowed. Click.

Ryan shrugged off the fabric, exposing the bones of his shoulders and lean muscles of his arms, turning slightly to further expose his chest and stomach. The amusement was almost gone from his face, replaced with something Brendon couldn't describe. Click.

Brendon's mouth was dry. He bit his lip, and tried to keep his eyes from wandering. But that plan was soon forgotten when Ryan pulled on his belt buckle, deathly slow, and slid the belt from the loops around his jeans. Click.

With the light reflecting off Ryan's exposed chest and shoulders, the room seemed brighter. Everything was brighter and blinding to Brendon, but he couldn't look away. He just hid in amazement behind his camera, staring unabashed, as Ryan slid his jeans down his slightly raised hips. Click.

Brendon's eyes trailed down the muscles of Ryan's stomach to the lines of his hips leading down, down, down into the blue boxers loose around his thin hips. Ryan stopped, and waited for Brendon's eyes to meet his again. The amusement was gone now, completely replaced with want—need—and Ryan reached up towards the camera to pry it gently from Brendon's hands and set it on the table.

He guided a now tentative, shaky hand towards his own hip, using Brendon's hand to pull the waistband downward and off, never leaving the security of eye contact.

"Si je vous donne mon monde, allez-vous me donner votre?" Ryan's voice was deep, and quiet, hardly there at all.

Brendon didn't even try to decipher. He just stored the sentence in the back of his mind for later. He'd worry about it later when his mind was more apt to think about language and words. Instead he leaned closer and answered whatever question was asked by pressing his lips to Ryan's.

Ryan took this as permission. He made short work of Brendon's shirt, pushing gently on his newly bare shoulders until Brendon was leaning back on the sun-warmed upholstery. His hands trailed undecidedly between Brendon's face, down to his chest, and lower to the buckle of his jeans. The fabric was harder to get off than Ryan's jeans, as the sheer touch of Ryan's hands on his skin made Brendon's skin shiver and pants grow tighter.

Rather quickly, compared to the speed of Ryan's undressing, Brendon's own boxers lay on the floor beside the other forgotten fabrics. He pressed his hand to the side of Ryan's hip, more for security than anything else, and pulled at Ryan's knee. Ryan took the hint, and moved his knees to straddle Brendon.

Brendon made an annoyed sound in the back of his throat, and reached behind Ryan to his back, feeling the warmed skin in the light, and pulled Ryan closer. Their chests and stomachs touched lightly, and Brendon's brain only thought one thing: "Ryan..."

It was beginning to be too much. Too much, but not enough. He wanted more. He wanted Ryan, in a way that scared him, deep in the back of his mind. But now was not the time to think of fears and insecurities. He pushed Ryan away, leaving him confused, and tore himself from the sofa.

Ryan knelt there on the sofa, as he strode over to the suitcase in the bedroom. Seeing Brendon walk away, Ryan frowned and followed, only to reach the doorway to the bedroom and be pulled into it by force. Brendon held Ryan's wrist, and pulled them together again, tossing the lube and condom to the side.

"Please?" Brendon asked.

"D'accord." The word this time wasn't said with a smile, it was slurred and cut off by a press of lips, but Brendon knew what he meant. Brendon knew he was sure, and would not back out. Brendon knew he could trust Ryan.

They leaned back onto the bed when Brendon's knees touched the edge, the perfectly smooth covers wrinkling under them. Ryan's kissing grew more forceful, pushing any coherent thoughts out of Brendon's mind. Ryan was the only word that remained, etching itself into his mind forever.

He found the lube, and pushed it into Ryan's hand, scooting back to bring Ryan between his legs. Ryan took a shaky breath and opened the cap, letting the cool liquid cover his fingers. Brendon touched his face, and brought his focus back to kissing, only to be interrupted by the feeling of Ryan's finger pushing into him, clouding his mind and stuttering the movement of his lips.

Ryan waited for Brendon to gain his composure before moving, keeping him on the edge of sanity with small movements at first, kissing away the tension in his lips, and rubbing soft circles into his skin. Brendon made a sound in attempt to tell Ryan more which was effective enough, though it didn't come out in anything more than a whimper. He slid in a second finger, and again waited for Brendon to kiss him with any sense of control he still had.

He didn't wait as long before adding a third finger, causing Brendon to grimace and freeze beneath his fingertips. They were still for a moment, waiting for Brendon to decide when to continue. Ryan followed Brendon's lips, telling him when he was moving too rough, and soon Brendon's breath hitched in his throat, followed promptly by a low moan.

If Ryan wasn't aroused already, he was now. Brendon's failed attempt at mumbling Ryan's name was all he needed to pull his fingers out of Brendon and reach back to the condom and lube.

Brendon watched him carefully, biting his lip and breathing heavily, watching Ryan shiver as he slid the condom on and slicked the lube over himself. Ryan finally, finally loomed over Brendon again, with question in his eyes, asking Ready? Brendon answered his unasked question with a needy press of lips. Ryan got the message, and pushed in slowly, dragging a hiss from Brendon's lips.

And that was it. Brendon's trust was entirely Ryan's now. He had complete and total power over him, and there was no turning back. There were no do-over's. There was nothing left but everything. Ryan's eyes held shut, until Brendon fidgeted underneath him, saying move already.

So Ryan did. He pulled out slowly, and pushed back in, establishing a slow rhythm and drawing the most endearing sounds from Brendon's throat. Brendon clawed at Ryan's chest with dull fingernails, and raised his hips to meet Ryan's, pulling Ryan deeper, closer, further past the barriers than either of them were used to going.

"Brendon, si bon... merde," Ryan choked out the words, hardly understandable at all, even to him. Brendon's response only made Ryan lose himself more, with a loud, deep moan that filled Ryan's ears and etched into his memory.

He buried his face in Brendon's neck and tried with all he had to maintain a rhythm. But rhythm was the farthest from his mind with Brendon's vocals pushing him faster.

Brendon whimpered and reached downward to touch his own aching erection, causing his head to tilt back against the mattress and his back to arch. Ryan smiled against Brendon's damp skin, and traced his own hand down his stomach to wrap around Brendon's.

Apparently Brendon's sense of rhythm was better than Ryan's. Of course it was. He was a musician. Brendon helped him keep a pace, as sporadic as it was, and Ryan could feel Brendon shaking beneath him.

Ryan shook the clutter from his mind to make coherent thought, and leaned up to linger his lips by Brendon's ear, touching just slightly. "Reste avec moi..." The whisper was liquid and flowed off his lips with more composure and sheer need than he intended.

And that was it. Brendon let go with another loud moan. Ryan felt Brendon's shakes grow more prominent, and every muscle tighten. It was almost too much, too much and now enough, as Ryan followed suit seconds later, watching Brendon come down as well.

Ryan took the first breath he had taken in what seemed forever, and pulled out, discarding the condom. Brendon pulled at his bicep, too exhausted to speak or make any drastic movements. Ryan obliged, collapsing down next to Brendon, and taking him into his arms.