Ryden Smut

hush hush

Hush hush by @ greenappleseas on LiveJournal
Part 2/2
http://greenappleseas.livejournal.com/2009/09/24/

"I don’t want to hear another. sound. from you."

Brendon gulps.

He doesn't know if he can do this. I mean, sure, he's done it before, while he was still living with his parents, or sleeping in tour bunks...but not with Ryan's hands on him, Ryan's mouth on his neck, Ryan sitting right fucking in front of him. He gazes wide-eyed up at the aforementioned guitarist and he can feel his chest heaving. Ryan merely smirks.

"What, are you gonna back down?" he mocks, forgoing battling with Brendon's pajama bottoms in favor of just teasing him through the cotton with his fingertips. Brendon's head tips back as he pants, his arms finding their way around Ryan's neck. Suddenly, Ryan's mouth is whisper-close, lips brushing over Brendon's ear. "I thought so."

Brendon's never been patient, sure, but now it just feels like a fucking decade is passing as Ryan starts to slip his shirt up his chest. Brendon figures he'll make himself useful and props himself up on his elbows to shimmy out of it. He can see Ryan eyeing the smooth, porcelain skin, charting out maps of hickeys and bruises to leave. He sees the flash in Ryan's eyes, and finds himself pinned to the couch, a red spot being readily sucked into his collarbone. He quickly bites his tongue.

Ryan's hands are on him then, tugging down his pajama pants in a swift jerk, and Brendon never thought air could be that cold. But there's a warm hand wrapped around him instantly, and he almost forgets to be silent. His mouth falls open, eyes shut, hands gripping at Ryan's shoulders, and he's a split second from crying out when the sound lodges in his throat. A low chuckle tumbles into his ear. "Good boy," Ryan mumbles appreciatively.

And fuck if Brendon's heard anything hotter in his entire life. He swallows, squirming, and thrusts up shallowly. He can practically hear Ryan smirk, and the low voice is back, syrupy sweet.

"You're being so quiet," Ryan praises. Brendon bites down hard on his lip, nodding his head frantically, pushing his hips up again. Ryan's hand slows, and he continues. "Do you think you can keep it up?" he asks conversationally. "Or," he adds, and Brendon notices his voice darken, "are you gonna scream my name when you come?"

Brendon will be the first to admit: he almost slips. His hips stutter and he gasps, releasing his hold on his now-swollen lower lip, but he chokes it off. Ryan purrs softly in his ear, "So good..." Brendon seriously wants to buy oxygen, because it seems they've stopped handing it out for free.

"Mm, Bren," Ryan breathes, confidence and sin oozing from the words, and he drops his head to Brendon's shoulder. "You have no idea the things I want to do to you." Brendon's heart kind of stops, because really, he can only keep one thing going at a time, and right now, silence is more important. Hell, anything that'll keep that hand on him is priority numero uno. He does kind of choke, though, and he feels Ryan grin against his skin before raising his head.

"Like right now, I kind of just want to fuck you into this couch."

And that was probably the closest call of them all, Brendon somehow manages to realize. His hips jerk into Ryan's hand and he's panting like he just ran a marathon, cheeks flushing from the effort of silence, but he thinks that hey, for him? He's doing a pretty excellent job. Somewhere in his mind, he stows this as an excuse for ice cream. What – fuck, what's ice cream got to do with anything?!, he realizes the next second, though, as Ryan speeds up the pace. He feels the guitarist dart his tongue out to wet his lips, just barely brushing the shell of Brendon's ear.

"Would you let me?" Ryan asks earnestly. Yes, ohmyfuckinggod, yes, Brendon thinks, but his eyes only roll back in his head as his hips seek out a rhythm. Ryan chuckles again, fucking chuckles, and mutters breathlessly, "I'd fuck you into Tuesday, and you'd take it like a whore."

Brendon can't help it. He tips his head back and moans quietly through gritted teeth. Ryan hums disapprovingly, biting lightly on Brendon's earlobe.

"Hm, what a shame," he sighs teasingly (though really, Brendon's sure there's a big, fat, self-satisfying smirk on Ryan's lips). "You were doing so well." Brendon cracks his eyes open to see Ryan, sitting back on his heels, watching Brendon with a sultry little smile. Brendon arranges his face in what he hopes is the most pleading, hopeful look on the planet, and Ryan crawls up his body. And no, Brendon totally doesn't notice that he's hard again, because honestly, it's unfair. And Brendon's going to pout about it. A lot. Later. After he fucking gets off. But Ryan just grins wolfishly down at him, shifts his hips, and Brendon stops thinking about anything besides holy fucking god. Ryan gasps, and Brendon totally, totally wants to glare at him. Again: un-fucking-fair.

But really, it's Ryan, grinding against him and letting out these soft little noises into his ear, and Brendon kind of just bites his lip. He wraps his leg around Ryan's waist, pulling him closer, and bucks against him. Ryan gasps, moans, and Brendon is finally fed up. He pauses, taking Ryan's face in his hands, and kisses at his lower lip.

"Please, please," he whispers, and Ryan laughs a little breathlessly at the role reversal, but rolls his hips into Brendon's once more, letting out a loud groan.

"Y-you can. But only – nngh – if I hear the most perfect noise of my life," he pants, and Brendon nods with hooded eyes, stroking Ryan's face. He feels a hand slip between their bellies, wrapping around both their erections. He lets out a stuttered gasp, and tugs Ryan's mouth to his. He rocks into the touch, snaking his arms around Ryan's neck. Brendon pulls away to breathe, and Ryan is like, right fucking there, sucking and biting softly at his neck. Brendon arches his back, pushes his head into the couch cushion, squeezes his eyes shut, and moans out a long, gorgeous, broken note. Ryan's hips stutter.

"Fuck," he cries, and Brendon feels Ryan's forehead hit his chest. He tosses his other leg around Ryan's waist and pulls Ryan's mouth back to his in time to spill a long string of curses against his lips. Brendon's on the edge and he thinks, as long as he's got permission, he might as well use it, and bucks his hips hard, letting out a sharp cry of, "Ryan!", who in turn groans, falters, and comes with a choked gasp. Brendon lets his eyes slip shut, thrusts his hips up a few more times, and moans softly as he spills onto his stomach.

Brendon's pretty sure that there's only been a few times in his life when all he could hear was breathing, but this is forever his ultimate favorite. Ryan is slumped over his chest, collapsed and spent, and Brendon...is kind of ridiculously okay with that. Softly, Ryan says, "Well. Sloppy joe night is now a No-Spencer-and-Jon event..." Brendon tips his head back and laughs, easy and carefree.

"Add it to the list."