One Shots

NC-17

Currently, Ryan and Brendon are sat upon the large bed in the middle of their hotel room, opposite each other, backs facing one another.

The door of their room swung open, and both of the boys kept their eyes on the ground in front of them, pouting. "Care if I borrow-" Jon began, stopping abruptly once he saw the two. "Guys. Seriously. Figure it out, already," he sighed. Annoyed, he turned and left, closing the door behind him.

Brendon threw a cautious glance over his shoulder to find Ryan throwing a hateful glare his way, not quite meeting his eyes. "Maybe Jon's right..." Brendon supplied.

"Or maybe," Ryan said, swiveling his body so he now faced Brendon, with his long skinny legs out in front of him, and his angry eyes staring at Brendon. "Just maybe, you're still acting like the little bitch you've been all tour," Ryan sneers at him. Brendon quickly swiveled around as well, standing up on his knees, his hands balled into fists. "The fuck did you say, Ross?" Ryan looked Brendon is the eyes. "I said you're a little bitch, Urie."

Brendon let out, what sounded like, a primitive battle cry and lunged across the spacious bed at Ryan, knocking both of the boys to the ground in a pile of limbs. Neither of the two noticed when the door slightly opened, and Spencer stuck his head inside. "God damnit," he muttered, returning to the hallway to inform Jon that they were 'working on it.'

"Take. It. Back!" Brendon struggled to pin Ryan, once recovered from the initial impact. Which in itself, had knocked the wind out of Ryan. Grabbing a Ryan's dainty wrists, he held on tight, and used his own momentum to throw the two into a serious of small rolls until Brendon came out on top. He pinned Ryan's wrists above his head, and kept either of his strong legs on Ryan's sides. He only managed to hold him still for a moment. "Okay, okay, I'm-" Brendon's grip loosened, expecting Ryan's apology, but was only rewarded with Ryan ripping one of his wrists free from Brendon's hands. "What the-" Ryan reached up and harshly took a hold of Brendon's hair, pulling him down to floor level. "Ouch! Ouch! Quit it!" Brendon yelled, as Ryan quickly maneuvered his way to straddling Brendon's lower back, Brendon's face smushed against the rough, luckily clean, carpet of the hotel.

"Little bitch," Ryan laughed lightly, looking down to where his sat upon Brendon's ass. He ground his hips down, experimentally. Brendon quickly drew in a breath. "See? Little bitch," Ryan explained cheerfully.

"Fuck you," Brendon grumbled into the carpet, his chest rising and deflating against the floor the best it could. Who knew Ryan could be that energetic?

"Fuck me? But I'm not a little bitch, I don't get fucked. I fuck." Ryan laughed again. "If you say those fucking words one more time, Ross," Ryan pushed Brendon's face further into the carpet, grinding down onto Brendon's ass again. Brendon hated the way the friction he felt from the ground on his dick felt good.

"I think what you meant to say was 'fuck me,'" Ryan teased and Brendon just groaned in response. Keeping a hand in Brendon's hair, Ryan raised to his knees enough to allow Brendon to turn, laying on his back. "C'mon, roll," Ryan instructed, and at a loss of better orders, Brendon complied, wordlessly.

Once he was on his back, Ryan repositioned himself, this time face to face. "Would you like that?" Ryan asked Brendon, who still had his face somewhat facing the carpet, due to Ryan's angry hold on his hair, pushing him downwards. "L-like what?" Brendon asked, mocking his own stutter in the back of his head.

"If I fucked you?" Ryan asked, obviously. He let go of his grip on Brendon's hair, and ran his fingers through it a couple times, gently. "I- I um, yes," Brendon spoke softly, clearing his throat immediately after, attempting to appear more manly. More experienced. Bigger, stronger; more everything. Ryan moved down, unbuttoning Brendon's tight jeans, attempting to slide them down. "Jesus, Bren, these are tight."