Ryden Oneshots

Here Be Dragons

.:. Rating : NC-17 .:.
Time travel!fic

*

"I'm not that innocent," Brendon sing-songed absentmindedly, and Ryan scowled at him.

Because, really, that was sort of the problem.

*

Ryan lets himself in the house as quietly as he can. The back door's unlocked, and he takes a moment to suck in a deep breath and hope Brendon's better at locking the front door. It's dark inside, and the only noise is coming from upstairs, something classical. Ryan thinks it's probably Vivaldi, but can't be sure.

Right now the issue is whether he should walk heavily to announce his presence or quietly so as to surprise Brendon. It's probably better to surprise him. He's alone, and probably not too comfortable with that fact.

*

But, really.

Logically, Ryan should have been much better at the whole sex thing than Brendon was. Because Brendon was kind of a goof, and a bit of a moron at times, and also Mormon. He wasn't even allowed to date girls in high school.

It did not make any fucking sense at all. The first time they were fooling around, it really should have been sort of awkward and fumbly on Brendon's part. Ryan had it all planned out: Brendon would grab for his crotch and get a handful of hipbone instead. And then he'd blush and bite at his lip and maybe laugh a little, and then Ryan would kiss him and smile reassuringly, and then they'd get naked and it would be really great, okay, because Brendon was pretty gorgeous and all that. Anyway, so they'd be naked and then Brendon would hesitate a bit and Ryan would say, That's all right, and show Brendon what he liked, and Brendon would pick up on it soon enough but not, like, right away, and then they'd have lots of sex and every step of the way, Ryan would be the one saying, Yep, that goes there, and Nope, little to the left, please.

Where it had probably gone astray was the part where Ryan had kind of studiously ignored the fact that the sum total of his experience with the hornier sex was a lot of unsatisfying dry-humping at shows and maybe half of a blowjob gotten in the bathroom at one of the aforementioned shows back in Vegas. His viewpoint was that Brendon was the dweeby one, and he was the one who had a better fuck, which he completely did, so what the hell.

Because the first time they were really fooling around not only did Brendon actually manage to grab his dick on the first try, he was good enough at the whole groping-through-jeans thing that something like a minute and a half later Ryan was choking out a stuttering breath and coming, gripping at Brendon's shoulders. Probably the worst part was how totally unsurprised Brendon was. He just kissed Ryan again, a little softer, and guided Ryan's hand to the zipper on his stupid ill-fitting jeans and had to help Ryan get his jeans open and his cock out, and then even though he finished quickly, it was still pretty fucking irritating.

*

Ryan pauses at the hallway, trying to remember. It's 2003, he thinks, which means that Brendon's got his own room by now, okay. The door's open and the lights are out -- the only thing helping Ryan see is the faint glow from the streetlights.

He makes his way into Brendon's bedroom, where a CD player on the floor by his bed is still playing that same lilting classical music. Brendon's curled up under just a sheet with the rest of the blankets kicked to the foot of the bed. That makes sense: it's September, still scorchingly hot in Vegas. Ryan's surprised he's even sleeping under a sheet. Ryan's surprised he's sleeping in clothes at all. Nobody else is home, and they won't be until halfway through the next day. If it were Ryan, he'd be sleeping naked downstairs, where it's cooler. As it is, there's a fan aimed right at Brendon's bed, and it's mostly just serving to move hot air around.