Ryden Oneshots

Automatic Joy

.:. Rating : NC-17 .:.

Basically, Ryan's a robot and Brendon needs to get laid.

Brendon sighed.

This really was a fucked up thing to do, but he needed to get laid, and this just happened to be the perfect way to do it. A shiny plaque at the statue's feet read: "Ryan is a Coin-Operated Boy. Insert a Quarter Into the Palm of his Hand and He'll Do the Rest." He pulled a silver coin out of the change pocket of his wallet and pushed it into the slot in the toy's hand. He heard a faint clinking as the coin traveled through "Ryan" and then gasped a little as the serious expression of the machine softened into a shy smile.

"Hi, my name is Ryan," he said, in an elegant monotone.

"Brendon," Brendon said, looking in awe at Ryan. He was wearing tight black pants with off-white pinstripes, a ruffled white shirt and a black and white striped vest. He had on black eyeliner and eyeshadow and his hair was styled in a very suave manner.

"Brendon, hm? Nice name."

"Oh. Thanks." Brendon nervously scratched the nape of his neck.

Stepping off the pedestal, Ryan sighed in a melancholy manner. "You know," he droned, "it gets a little monotonous, watching these whores frolic all over the place." He vaguely indicated at all the strippers littering the club. "And I want you to know," he continued, inching closer, "that I am not like those girls. They'll give you a lap dance. I'll give you a fuck you'll never forget."  And with that, he pushed Brendon onto a nearby table, impressing the shape of his sculpted hipbones into Brendon's heaving body. Leaning over the young man, whose breathing had become ragged and unstable, Ryan, voice inflicted with a dark humor, muttered, "And would you say, my noble patron Brendon, that a good fuck far outshines any lap dance you'll ever get from one of those sluts?"

Wondering how Ryan could say words that sounded unrefined, and yet still so eloquent, Brendon whispered back, "Yes."

Ryan pressed his cold, mechanical lips onto Brendon's and roughly kissed him. He dragged the plastic airbrushed carvings of his fingers up Brendon's jawline, tracing the contours of his face. Skimming his tongue against Brendon's ear, Ryan muttered, "Sounds like we're in for quite a show tonight, then." Moving his lips back down Brendon's neck, Ryan moaned softly into Brendon's warm skin. Brendon felt Ryan smirk into his neck when he took in a sharp breath. Slipping a long fingered hand up Brendon's shirt, Ryan murmured, "What do you want, Brendon?"

"A good fuck," Brendon replied huskily, closing his eyes and throwing his head back at Ryan's artificial touch. The music of the club was still pounding in his ears, but all he could hear was Ryan's whispered words.

Chuckling sadistically, Ryan muttered back, "Which I've already stated I'm more than willing to supply. Except," he continued alluringly, slowly moving his hand down Brendon's back. "I'm not sure you're..." His hand moved to the front of Brendon's body, pausing right above the man's hardening cock. "...ready."

Brendon opened his eyes and looked up at Ryan. His chocolate eyes met Ryan's honey-golden set, which were daring him to make the next move. Unable to resist the temptation, Brendon pulled Ryan's hand down to his cock. "I'm ready," he said firmly, voice alight with uncontainable lust.

Sliding an elegant, long fingered hand down Brendon's pants, Ryan whispered in his ear, "You better be."

Ryan gently wrapped his right hand around Brendon's cock. With his index finger, he lightly stroked Brendon's length, smirking slightly at the uneven gasping of the other. Ryan's hand caressed Brendon's cock with a steady rhythm, evenly rubbing his fingers against the slowly growing erection.