Ryan Ross Imagines

Smol Imagine #5

Being on tour was stressful, especially being only 18 to 23 years old. Both my band, Second Hand Corpse's, and Panic! At The Disco were on tour for three months, and we were currently in LA.

The hotel was nice, it had WiFi, and big beds, even a pool. Today, I was just sat in my room, watching TV and playing on my phone since the next show was in five hours, and everyone else was out at the bar.

The TV was down low and I let my phone fall onto my chest, becoming bored once again. The only other person here was Ryan and he was in his room also. I picked my phone back up, checking on my Sims, when I heard a quiet groan from across the hall of the suite. It was a small, frustrated groan.

Maybe Ryan just broke a guitar string again? I dropped my phone, hopping off my bed, and I made my way to his door. The next groan was definitely annoyed, but something else laced into it, something that made my cheeks heat up red.

I could be wrong, he might need help, I told myself, pushing his door open quietly. Ryan was laying on his bed, forehead sweaty, and cheeks red with frustration as he pumped himself with quick movements.

He was obviously desperate to get off, and I felt sympathy for him, knowing the frustrating feeling when you just can't do it. Realization set in and I stumbled back, kicking the wall on accident. Ryan looked towards me as he hurriedly pulled the blankets up to his waist.

"I'm so sorry!" I shrieked, blushing bright red. "I just, uh, thought you might need, uh..." His eyes are wide, and his bottom lip is swollen slightly from being bit, and I made a quick decision I would never make if he wasn't looking at me like that.

"Do you need help?" His cheeks get even redder with embarrassment, and I took a tentative step forward. "You just look like you need help, and, um, I want to help you." He nods, looking shocked still, and I closed the door, walking over to the bed. I crawled onto the bed, and pulled the blanket away from him.

I took him into my hand, and his hips bucked up, a quiet whimper coming from his lips, and I knew he had been doing this for a while. "Poor baby. You wanna come, don't you?" His hips bucked again, "Fuck. Please, yes!"

I kissed him, slow and needy, and he tangled his hands in my hair, deepening the kiss. I picked up the pace of my hand and he moaned into my mouth quietly. I pulled away, my eyes wondering down to my hand.

"Please, please..." he mumbled. I tightened my grip slightly and his mouth hung open. I gave a few more pumps before he came, spilling onto my hand, groaning loudly. I smiled at him and he pulled the blankets up again.

"Thank you, so much," he whispered. "No problem." I moved to get up but he grabbed my wrist. "Take a shower with me?" He asked. I nodded, smiling, and we both got up and headed into the bathroom.