Ryden Smut

Come Undone

Come Undone by @sunday_porch on LiveJournal http://sunday-porch.livejournal.com/14644.html

"Those are fucking ridiculous," Brendon tells Ryan, looking pointedly at the scarves Ryan is still wearing, even though he's been reclined on his hotel bed with his Sidekick for half an hour now.

"Okay," Ryan says, and doesn't even stop typing. Brendon frowns a little as he turns back to the television. He's pretty sure he's seen this episode of Dog the Bounty Hunter already, though; they find her living in her van or something. He looks over at Ryan again, and seriously, this is fucking ridiculous.

"Ryan, hey," Brendon says, sitting up and swinging his legs over the edge of his bed. He stretches, kicking Ryan's mattress, but Ryan doesn't react. Leaning forward a little, Brendon says clearly, "you know, they don't even match."

Ryan doesn't even blink. And that, fuck, that's like a fucking challenge. He might as well have slapped Brendon with a glove--preferably a plain one, Brendon doesn't really want a mouthful of rosettes.

"Okay, Ross, seriously," Brendon says, bouncing to his feet and climbing right onto Ryan's bed, onto Ryan. Ryan doesn't stop typing, even as Brendon straddles his hips, wiggling a little for effect. Ryan moves his Sidekick a little closer to his face, out of the way of Brendon. "You fucking suck," Brendon tells him, leaning forward and poking at the scarf tied around Ryan's head. Ryan tries to duck out of the way and the scarf slides a down bit. Brendon pauses, then, biting his lip thoughtfully. He pinches the scarf and tugs, and it slips farther down Ryan's forehead.

"Brendon," Ryan warns, but Brendon's already pulling the scarf all the way down to cover Ryan's eyes. "Hey," Ryan says, swatting at Brendon's hands, but Brendon catches his wrist. With his other hand, he snatches the Sidekick and sets it aside on the nightstand. "Brendon," Ryan repeats, sharper; Brendon just grabs his other wrist.

It's obvious that it hasn't even occurred to Ryan to struggle for real, and Brendon takes the advantage, acting fast, forcing Ryan's wrists together and holding them tight in one hand while he pulls at the scarf still wrapped around Ryan's neck. The knot's loose and it falls off easily. Brendon sticks one end in his mouth, holding it in one place so he can twist the silk into something usable. Ryan squirms, pulling weakly at his hands, but Brendon manages to string together a flowery rope fast enough, and starts looping it around Ryan's wrists in tight eights before Ryan seriously fights back.

"What--" Ryan starts, pulling harder; Brendon watches his mouth fall open when he realizes he really is bound fast. Brendon grins.

He hauls Ryan's arms up over his head, feeding the scarf in between the square wooden bars that make up the decorative headboard. He double-knots the ends and checks his work, yanking hard, and when the knots actually hold, Brendon is kind of delighted.

"Jesus," Ryan says. He pulls down harder and when he realizes his hands are completely fixed in place, he lifts his hips, trying to buck Brendon off. Brendon laughs a little, lower now.

"Ryan," Brendon says, setting a palm high on Ryan's chest. Ryan flinches a little, not expecting the touch since he couldn't see it coming, and he turns his head on the pillow.

"What," Ryan repeats, but Brendon ignores the almost-question, moving his fingers down to the top button on the vest, and popping it open. He repeats the gesture with the next button, and the next, until he can flip the folds of the vest out of the way.

"Ryan, Ryan, Ryan," Brendon says, skittering his fingers back up to start on his shirt.

"Fuck, Brendon," Ryan replies, and wow, Brendon thinks, this certainly is some fascinating conversation. Thank god he has other things on his mind, like the growing sliver of pale skin being revealed as he works Ryan's shirt open. Brendon pulls the cotton apart, tugging it out of his pants where the shirttails had still been buried. He leans down and presses a quick kiss to Ryan's sternum and Ryan gasps, squirming.