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Clearly Aware Of the Stars
{Panic! At The Disco RPS. NC-17. Brendon/Jon (Ryan/Brendon, Brendon/Spencer, Ryan/Spencer, Ryan/Brendon/Spencer/Jon). 100% untrue. For Jocondite.}
Among Brendon’s finest moments were the first time he played a concerto on the piano at home, the day he discovered Queen, and his seventh kiss. The day he wore a shirt to school that proclaimed in Spanish ‘My mother is a hamster’ was not among these moments. He had quickly learned to use a phrase book for reference whenever wearing garments with slogans in other languages.
Picking out what to wear to the concert of your new labelmates was, Brendon decided, a tricky business. The decision had to be made: to go with overly casual and friendly, or professional and musicianlike, or something in between.
In the end, Brendon decided not to go as Brendon Urie, How Do You Do; nor as Brendon Urie, Professional Musician; nor Brendon Urie, Soon-To-Be Rock Star; he decided just to go as Brendon Urie, That Kid Who’s In A Band And Wants To Hear Some Music.
This mostly involved jeans.
He grabbed a shirt at random from his drawer and checked it didn’t say anything that would embarrass him – it just read ‘LET IT BE’ so he figured it was alright – and pulled it on. Quick check in the mirror, and he was ready to go.
“See you tomorrow, Mom,” he called out as he opened the front door.
“Have a good time,” she called back from three rooms away, and he stepped into the snap of dusk. Then stepped back inside and grabbed a jacket, and stepped back out again.
After threatening not to start at all – “Stupid cold weather in the stupid winter,” he muttered as he slammed his palm once into the steering wheel – he managed to get the engine going and drove to the venue. When he saw Ryan outside, he almost wanted to keep his jacket on, no matter how warm it got in there. Or possibly go home and change.
“Hey,” Ryan greeted him as he got out of the car. “I called Pete, Adam’s going to meet us out back.”
“Wow, Ryan, you – really dressed up for this, huh?” Brendon took in Ryan’s pinstriped trousers and vintage style t-shirt printed to look like a waistcoat and tie. Ryan looked down and shrugged.
“I guess. Come on, let’s go.” He grabbed Brendon’s hand and led him to the back of the club.
A guy was waiting for them. “You must be Ryan and Brendon,” he said when they approached. Ryan nodded and held a hand out to shake. “I’m Adam. Follow me, I’ll take you to meet the others.”
He led them through a door and down corridors that smelled like they’d probably never seen sunlight. Watery fluorescent lights flickered on the ceiling, and Brendon was glad someone had at least thought to paint the walls some kind of light beige or something, because he was already slightly queasy. Adam pushed a door open, and sound rushed out to meet them; and warmth, and the scent of something like a combination of fresh sweat, beer and anticipation. He squared his shoulders and stepped in.
“Guys, guys,” Adam announced, “this is Ryan and Brendon. The ones Pete told us about, their band’s on the label now. Ryan, Brendon, that’s Mike, that’s the Butcher, that’s Tom, that’s William, and that’s Jon, our guitar tech and a big mooch.”
“Hey, hey, one beer does not count as mooch,” Jon protested, and Brendon was trying to take everyone in. All he got was a vague sense of dizziness, a slightly awkward feel to his body, and the impression that Jon had a nice smile and was probably a great guy. He automatically moved to sit in the spare seat next to him. “You agree with me, right?” Jon turned to him.
“Right, yeah, totally,” Brendon nodded. Ryan was already talking to Adam and William, and Brendon heard Pete’s name a couple of times.
Jon leaned in and whispered conspiratorially, “So which are you, Ryan or Brendon?”
Somehow, the tiny knot at the pit of Brendon’s stomach unwound. “Brendon,” he answered, sinking back into the threadbare cushions on the tiny couch. “I’m the singer,” he added for good measure, “and I play keyboards and stuff.”
“I’m a bassist, usually,” Jon smiled. “I was in a band with Tom. But I like tech work, so.” It really didn’t matter that Brendon hadn’t asked. He felt himself relaxing further, and thought, this meeting your labelmates thing is alright. He unzipped his jacket, the cold from outside releasing its grip. “Hey,” Jon said, “I like your shirt. You like the Beatles?”
“What?” Brendon glanced down. “Oh, right. Yeah.”
“They’re one of my favourite bands.” Jon had all but lit up, and Brendon wished he could remember more of the songs right at that second.
“Yeah, they’re great,” he nodded. “I like the later albums, after they went to India and all that shit.”
“When they were all high? Man, they could write better songs on acid than most bands can sober.” Jon was smiling broadly at him, and Brendon nodded and smiled back.
He, Jon and Ryan watched from the side of the stage when the Academy performed. They were good, and Ryan could barely take his eyes off William. Brendon couldn’t blame him; William was slinking all over the stage, leaning against his bandmates and lifting his shirt to run one palm over his stomach. Brendon watched, aware of Jon next to him, moving with the beat and humming along under his breath.
Mike and William bounded off the stage, arms around each other’s shoulders, and Tom, Adam and Butcher swept up Ryan, Brendon and Jon with them on the way back to the small dressing room. William was saying things about the crowd and the set and one or two things they could work on for the next one, Adam and Mike were taking off sweat-stained shirts and grabbing towels, flicking the corners at each other, and Jon was talking to Tom about the guitars. Butcher was rummaging in a box to produce bottles of beer, though Brendon was fairly sure none of them were old enough to drink.
“I guess we should go soon,” Ryan muttered into Brendon’s ear when everyone around them began packing things away and talking about the next town they’d be playing.
“I guess,” Brendon agreed, feeling like lingering. Ryan found William and said they’d be going, but any time the guys were in Vegas they should swing by, and maybe some day they’d tour together. William said that’d be great, and hugged both of them, followed closely by everyone else.
“We’ll see you again,” Tom assured them, and Brendon liked the feeling of inclusion. It was nice.
Ryan grabbed his hand again to tug him outside, but Brendon ducked back into the room, pulling a piece of paper out of his pocket. He found Jon packing away the guitars and said, “Uh, have you got a pen?”
“Um. Yeah,” and Jon fumbled one from the top of a bag. He handed it to Brendon, who scribbled on the paper and gave it and the pen back.
“That’s – my number,” he said. “Call me, I mean – let us know how the tour goes, and stuff. If you want.”
“Okay. Thanks.” Jon pocketed the paper and smiled, warmth. “It was good meeting you, Brendon.”
“You too.” He paused awkwardly for a second without really knowing why, then dashed back out again. He and Ryan traversed the labyrinthine corridors and breathed the sharp night air.
Ryan’s lips were twitching by the time they got into Brendon’s car. “So,” he said, like he was trying not to laugh, “you know how you’ve always said you’re straight?”
Brendon checked the mirrors. “What? Yeah?”
Ryan was out and out smiling now, with no small amount of glee. “Dude, you totally have a crush on Jon.”
Brendon quickly glanced at him and then his blind spot. “Shut up, I do not.”
“’Do not’ as one word is ‘donut’,” Ryan giggled, and Brendon hated that stupid phrase Ryan and Spencer had made up.
“What does that even mean, seriously?” He got them onto the road.
“Calling bullshit, Brendon. You were practically glued to his side the entire night.”
“So? You were practically glued to William’s.”
Brendon was watching the road so diligently he almost missed the look Ryan was giving him. At the silence, he looked up, and saw raised eyebrows. “Okay, what? Seriously, Ry.”
“Yeah, seriously,” Ryan said.
“Dude. Pete and William?”
“Oh, don’t.” Ryan sank down in his seat a few inches and bit his lip. “Talk about something else, I’ll be alright in a minute.”
“Jesus, Ryan.” Brendon watched the road, silent for a moment. “Are you back yet?”
“Almost.” Ryan’s eyes were closed. Brendon waited. “Okay, I’m done. What were we talking about?”
“I have no idea, I’m distracted by how gay you are, seriously.”
“Oh, come on.” Ryan was looking at him from between his lashes; Brendon glanced, saw, put his eyes back to the road. “You can’t tell me that if Jon turned up at your house in just a long coat, you wouldn’t put music on loud and hope your parents were out.”
Brendon was silent.
Ryan cackled.
“Shut the fuck up, I don’t – don’t fucking do that to me, Ry.” Brendon wondered if he’d ignite if he blushed any harder. Spontaneous combustion might be preferable to this conversation.
Ryan patted his knee in what was probably meant to be a reassuring way. “You’ll get used to it.”
“What, you giving me shit or the Jon thing?”
“I knew there was a Jon thing,” Ryan crowed.
“Screw you, that’s why you tormented me.”
“Ooh, Brendon, don’t be such a drama queen.” Ryan giggled, apparently almost beside himself with glee. He paused, possibly for emphasis. “Naked Jon,” he said.
“What the fuck?”
“Naked Jon, in your bed.”
“Shut the fuck up.”
“Naked Jon, in your bed, on his knees, saying he wants you.”
“Do you want to run us off the fucking road?”
“No.” Ryan was back to giggling. Brendon hated Ryan. “I want you to admit you would totally do Jon Walker.”
“Okay, I would totally do Jon Walker, and I gave him my fucking phone number, are you happy now?” Brendon thunked his head briefly against the steering wheel.
“Don’t miss the turning,” Ryan said through his delighted giggles. Brendon really hated Ryan fucking Ross.
“You sound like a fucking girl,” he said. He sort of wanted to curl away and inward, but he just kept driving.
“Says the new gay boy. Oh,” Ryan’s eyes widened, “you have so much to learn, there’s a whole world out there –”
“Just fucking stop, okay? Jonathan Walker is one guy, one guy, and –”
“Wait, his name’s Jonathan?”
Brendon paused. “He didn’t tell you that?”
“He told you that? If he calls, date him, Brendon, seriously.”
“Oh God.” Brendon was glad he was pulling up outside Ryan’s house. He rested his head on the steering wheel after parking and squeezed his eyes shut. “You’re never going to fucking let up, are you?”
Ryan leaned in and kissed his neck. Brendon could only assume he’d been aiming for his cheek. “Nope.”
“I hate you.”
“Come inside, it’s cold out here.”
“I can leave, you know, go home.”
“Empty threat, Brendon. Empty threat.” Ryan slid out of the car. Brendon tilted his head to watch him unlocking his house’s front door and beckoning.
“Oh God,” he sighed, undoing his seatbelt.
“You know what the best thing to do first is?” Ryan asked, once they were inside and in pyjamas (he left a pair, sometimes, and the fabric softener here was nicer than the one his mom used) and Brendon was huddled in a sleeping bag on Ryan’s bedroom floor.
“What?” Brendon asked, hoping they were on to a different subject entirely.
“Practice,” Ryan informed him, and Brendon had a sinking feeling that the subject hadn’t changed at all.
“What do you mean, Ryan?”
“I mean, have you ever even made out with a guy before?”
“No, and even if I did want to make out with Jon, and, okay, I’ll think about that in a minute, but – okay, so I want to make out with Jon. Doesn’t mean he wants to make out with me.” Brendon fiddled with the zipper on the sleeping bag, keeping his eyes fixed on it.
“But what if he does? What if he calls you, and is like, hey, next time we’re in the same city why don’t we get together for dinner, maybe see a show, have some sex, that kind of a thing.”
Brendon took the only course of action he could see open to him at this point. He buried his head in the sleeping bag and groaned, “Shut up, Ryan,” the sound muffled. “You’re not helping.”
Ryan removed the sleeping bag from about Brendon’s person. This took some time, and not a small amount of struggle. “Because,” Ryan grunted, “you won’t let me help.”
“What-” Brendon was cut off as Ryan, who by this time had wriggled his way into Brendon’s lap, pressed their mouths together.
Brendon tried to pull away, but Ryan cupped the back of his head, and Brendon sort of kissed him back because, there was a mouth and it was on his and Ryan … well, he knew what to do with his tongue, and, stuff. Brendon stopped thinking and just kissed, sliding one hand down Ryan’s arm and to his waist, and – he was kind of built like a girl. A little bit. It wasn’t that much different from kissing a girl, but it kind of was, and either way Brendon decided he liked it. Well, he didn’t dislike it.
Ryan pulled away after a while. Brendon made a soft sound.
“That wasn’t so bad, right?” Ryan was smiling at him now, and it was quieter than most of the smiles Brendon had seen on him tonight.
“I guess,” Brendon replied, absent. “I mean, no, it was – why’d you do that?” he asked, cognition catching up with him.
“Because it’s different to kissing a girl, and you don’t want to be thinking about how you don’t even know how to kiss a guy when you’re in front of Jon, right?”
Maybe Brendon didn’t hate Ryan so much. Then again, maybe he did. “Well,” he said. He tilted his head to the side slightly. “How’d I do?”
“Not bad. I mean, what, you want a critique?”
“No, Ryan, I want you to tell me it was awesome and I’m the best kisser ever.”
“Because your ego really needs a boost, Brendon.” Ryan rolled his eyes.
“Shut up,” he said, but fondly this time.
Ryan was silent for a minute, though neither of them moved. “You know, if you wanted help with other stuff,” he left the rest of the sentence hanging in the air.
“What – what do you mean?” Brendon’s heart pounded.
Ryan sighed in exasperation. “You want to date Jon, right? Whenever you see him next time, you’re going to want to bang him, yes or no?”
“Fuck, Ryan, I – yes, okay? What do you fucking want from me, a signed confession?”
“Well, do you have any idea what to do with a guy?”
Brendon definitely fucking hated Ryan. “I’m not even going to answer that.” He started to get up, but Ryan held his wrists gently and sat on his legs.
“Don’t be pissed, Brendon,” Ryan sighed. “I’m trying to help. Seriously, what if something happened with Jon?” He waited until he was sure Brendon was listening. “I bet he knows how to give blowjobs,” he added, sly smile in place and Brendon had never hated him so much.
“You’re trying to kill me,” he whispered.
“I’m trying to get you laid,” Ryan corrected him. “You’d think you’d be okay with that.”
“Ryan, all you’re trying to do is tell me I’m ill-equipped to have sex with Jon, and I don’t really need you to tell me that, okay?” Brendon deflated. Ryan made a frustrated noise in his throat.
“Just don’t fucking hit me,” he muttered, and before Brendon could ask what the fuck he was talking about, Ryan had his hand inside Brendon’s underwear. Brendon jerked backwards.
“What the fuck, Ryan?”
“Just trust me, okay? The first time you have sex with a guy, it’s always weird, and if you want this guy to be something other than an awkward teenage fuck you’ll be embarrassed about later, I suggest you practice with someone you trust.” The argument did, Brendon had to admit, have some sort of logic. Except that it involved having sex with Ryan. Who was one of his best friends, and not the guy he was kind of gay for.
“I’m not sure I trust you any more,” Brendon pointed out. “Seriously, Ryan, you’re propositioning me.”
“Look, if you really don’t want to do it, that’s cool, you don’t have to. But sex is like music, Brendon, it’s always better with practice. I mean, think of the first songs you ever wrote, and think of the songs we’re writing now. Imagine if Jon saw the first ones, then imagine if he just saw the latest ones.”
Brendon thought about that. “That – kind of makes sense, but – Ryan, I don’t – I mean, Jon is the only guy I’ve ever wanted to – you know.”
“Get naked and sweaty with? Bite his lip and lick his neck?”
“Would you stop with the fucking imagery?”
Ryan said nothing.
“Who did you practice with, if it’s such a huge thing?” Brendon was losing. And he was starting not to care so much if he lost, somehow. It did make a kind of sense. Until the ‘sex with Ryan’ part.
“Spencer,” Ryan said, as if it were the most obvious thing in the world.
“But – but Spencer’s straight! Didn’t he and Brent date those twins last month?”
Ryan shrugged. “I wanted to practice, he was curious, we’re good friends. We sometimes still do it, you know,” he added, “if I feel like, I don’t know, I’m out of practice or whatever. Or he just wants some head and doesn’t have a girlfriend at the time.”
Brendon didn’t quite know how to begin to deal with those sentences.
Ryan patted his knee again. “You don’t have to,” he repeated. “I’m good at head, though,” he added, just when Brendon was starting to feel reassured.
“What?”
“Come on, why do you think Spencer keeps asking me to go down on him?”
“I – didn’t even know he does until just now, and what the fuck.”
Ryan looked at him sideways. “That’s what ‘play some mouth organ’ means, Brendon.” The bottom of Brendon’s world promptly fell out.
“Holy shit, you’re fucking kidding me. I thought you were learning harmonica or something.”
Ryan nearly doubled over with giggles. “Oh, Brendon,” was all he could get out. He petted the top of Brendon’s head.
“Shut the fuck up.” Brendon folded his arms. “I definitely don’t want to have sex with you now, Ryan.”
“Wait,” Ryan squeezed out through his giggles, “you did before?”
Brendon got up and left the room. He heard Ryan’s giggles all the way down the stairs, behind him. They caught up just in front of the door.
“Brendon, wait.” The giggles were subsiding, leaving him just breathless. “Wait, you – I said, you don’t have to. Seriously. I’m just offering because you’re one of my best friends, and I trust you, and I want to help out.”
“You keep saying that,” Brendon didn’t turn around, just leaned his head on the front door, “but Ryan, all you’ve made me is convinced I’m inadequate for gay sex, and kind of turned on, so just – just leave it, alright?”
He felt Ryan move closer to him, footsteps quiet on the carpet, shh, shh. Ryan’s hand came around to splay on his stomach, dip back into his underwear. Brendon bit his lip and breathed in, eyes closed, not thinking about this. Ryan pressed against Brendon’s back, hand pulling softly, and Brendon tilted his hips back and forth, and this was okay, this was really kind of okay, actually. He made a tiny desperate sound in his throat when Ryan rubbed the pad of his thumb up and down and over and around and he wasn’t even as good at getting himself off as Ryan was, fuck. He bucked, and felt Ryan press an open mouth to the back of his neck, kissing wetly.
“Fuck,” Brendon muttered, toes curling against the carpet, hands pressed against the door and eyes squeezed shut. “Fuck, Ryan, fuck.”
“We can, if you want,” Ryan murmured against his neck, voice scratchy and raw and fuck. Brendon’s hips snapped and he came all over Ryan’s hand and his pyjamas and shit, he didn’t have a spare pair. He had a fleeting thought, as the afterglow began settling in and tidying up the shards left by the aftershocks of his orgasm, that maybe he was a little bit more gay than he’d thought. Which wasn’t, perhaps, such a bad thing.
Ryan nuzzled the top of his back and turned him around and kissed him, Brendon’s eyes still closed, and it was definitely not such a bad thing. “Ryan,” he breathed.
“I’ve got condoms upstairs,” Ryan whispered. “And lube.”
“Such a good little gay boy,” Brendon couldn’t resist.
“Hush,” Ryan smiled against his lips. “Come back upstairs,” and his voice was still low and since when has that voice, inviting him back upstairs, done this to him? Maybe since he got me off in his front hall, he thought, and concluded that was probably it.
He followed Ryan back up the stairs and watched as he lay out on the bed and beckoned, and Brendon thought, this is somebody’s wet dream, surely. Ryan is somebody’s wet dream, and he couldn’t work out whether he was Brendon’s, or Spencer’s, or hell, maybe even Pete’s. He figured it probably didn’t matter, since the wet dream was currently taking both of their clothes off with languid slowness and more wet kisses to Brendon’s skin, and he was kind of enjoying it.
“You don’t have to do anything,” Ryan said, mouth half full of Brendon’s neck, “you don’t want to.”
“Okay,” Brendon tried to nod, chin connecting softly with Ryan’s head. The reverberations made Brendon’s tongue click against his teeth. “Um, Ryan, this kind of might be a bit – I mean, Ryan, when I – I was fucking straight this morning.”
“Ah.” Ryan pulled away and regarded him. “You’re freaking out.”
“Well, kinda.” I’m naked, in my best friend’s bed, and he is also naked, and wants to have sex with me, and what the fucking shitting fuckiting fuck.
Ryan untangled himself carefully, keeping a little physical contact. “’S okay. I told you the first time is always weird. We could just talk, or,” he brightened, “I could tell you more about naked Jon.”
Brendon buried his face in the pillow. “Do you have to?” he asked, two thirds of the sound making it out. The rest collected in the hollow of his upper lip.
Ryan petted his hip. “Just think, when I’m through with you, Jon’ll be like, wow Brendon you’re dynamite in bed.”
“You’re like my gay Yoda,” Brendon mumbled. “And I cannot fucking believe I just said that.”
“Good, will you learn to fuck how.” Ryan’s Yoda voice wasn’t too far off. “Grammatically flawed, but rearranging syntax is hell,” he added, voice back to normal.
“Ryan,” Brendon lifted his head to point out, “you just did a Yoda impression, and then made comments about its grammar flaws, and we’re in bed together. What is wrong with this picture?”
“It should have been ‘well’,” Ryan answered. “Well, will you learn to fuck how.”
Brendon stared at Ryan for a full minute.
“…Naked Jon,” Ryan reminded him when the silence had stretched to breaking point and beyond.
“That’s losing all imagery the more you say it.” Brendon rested his head on the pillow again.
Ryan leaned close to his ear. Voice the texture of hot caramel, he murmured, “Jon, with only his skin on and nothing else, in your bed, bending over for you to fuck him. He makes noises when you do, and his head goes back, and you can see him, eyes closed, mouth just that little bit open and you know it means it feels good for him, really good, and he wants you never to stop.”
“Fuck,” Brendon breathed, blindly inching towards Ryan’s mouth, “you’re going to write porn and make me sing it, aren’t you?”
“I am now,” Ryan smiled, and kissed him. Brendon rolled to lean over him, kissing back, slowly pressing his pelvis down. Ryan arched up. “Top drawer,” he whispered against Brendon’s mouth. Brendon reached for the drawers standing next to Ryan’s bed, and opened the top one, tugging out a box of condoms and a bottle of lubricant.
“Ryan,” Brendon pulled away to open the box, “why is your lube blue?”
Ryan shrugged. “I got a box of different ones, that’s the next tube from it. Blueberry flavour,” he added.
“Seriously, flavoured lube.” Brendon put his face to Ryan’s shoulder and sighed. “I think my level of gay just went up, like, five notches.”
Ryan puffed a laugh and kissed him, taking a condom out of its packet without looking. He rolled it on to Brendon. “You have good recovery time,” he noted. “Advantage.”
“Yeah, either that or I’ve never done this before, Ry. You ever see American Pie?”
“Shut up and pay attention, here comes the interesting bit.” Ryan pulled away and showed Brendon two fingers, covered in lube. “Now watch.” He wriggled slightly away from Brendon’s body so he had enough room, and spread his legs, working his fingers. He pushed inside, biting down on his lip. “Can you see?”
“Yeah, yeah, yeah I can see, I can see that, Ryan.” Brendon kind of couldn’t take his eyes off Ryan’s fingers.
“Now you do that,” Ryan told him, holding the lube out ready to squeeze some onto Brendon’s hand. It was cold, and Brendon got two fingers slathered and then slowly trailed them by the tips down Ryan’s body. Ryan undulated against him. “Yeah, fuck yeah,” he whispered, eyes closed, and Brendon was about to have sex with this boy, and that was, at this moment, all kinds of awesome. He carefully pushed his fingers in, slowly at first, but oh fuck Ryan squeezed and expanded around him and it felt fucking amazing and he was twitching just imagining what it would feel like to be doing this with his cock and not just his fingers. Instinctively, he added a third finger. Ryan whimpered.
“What, is that – not good?” Brendon stilled.
“Fuck, don’t stop.” Ryan’s eyes were closed, his neck arched and exposed, and Brendon didn’t bother resisting the urge to lick a line up it. He felt Ryan swallow against his tongue. “Don’t stop.”
Brendon pushed in, thrusting a little harder from the wrist, and Ryan arched his body off the mattress. “That’s really hot, Ry,” Brendon murmured against his throat.
“Just fuck me, Brendon, before I fucking explode,” Ryan pleaded. Brendon took his fingers out and positioned himself carefully, guided by holding on to Ryan’s hips. He pushed in, and oh fuck yes. He could feel Ryan, surrounding him, and fuck if it didn’t feel like the best thing in the world, this whole gay sex thing was awesome if it meant things like this happening to him. “Not everyone,” Ryan choked out, “likes more than two – fuck yes – fingers, especially at f-f-first, do that again, fuck, Brendon.”
“I can’t,” Brendon grunted, “I can’t fuck you and take notes at the same fucking time, Ryan.”
Ryan whimpered and bucked underneath him, and Brendon thrust as hard as he could, and squeezed his eyes shut. On the backs of his eyelids, Jon smiled at him, and Brendon groaned aloud and rolled his hips. “You’re thinking about Jon, aren’t you?” Ryan was whispering into his ear, hot breath on his neck. “Think about doing this to Jon. Think about fucking him. Think about your hand on his dick, jerking him off while you’re fucking him,” said kind of pointedly, and oh. Right then. Brendon moved his hand to Ryan’s cock and tugged clumsily, his rhythm thrown off. It took him a few seconds to get used to matching his hips to his wrist, and he frowned with concentration until he had them almost right. Ryan groaned appreciatively, so he figured he must be doing something right. “Think about Jon, telling you to fuck – fuck – oh, fuck, just, I don’t fucking care, fuck me, Brendon.” Ryan hitched his leg over Brendon’s waist and suddenly Brendon was deeper inside him, and it felt fantastic, and Ryan opened his mouth to let out small sounds. Brendon kissed him, and Ryan’s tongue wrapped around his.
“Woah,” Brendon mumbled, mouth full of Ryan. “A good woah,” he added. Ryan’s throat gave a sound that could have been Yeah or Whatever, just shut up and fuck me or something in between. Or it could have been Keep your hand doing what it’s doing, fuckwad, since he’d sort of slackened his hand, stilling it; as soon as he realised this, he tightened, added a squeeze, and pulled in rhythm again. Come on, Urie, you’re a musician, he reminded himself. Keep to a beat.
Ryan angled his hips, and Brendon hit something, and Ryan broke away from his mouth and bit into his shoulder, whole body jerking, coming onto Brendon’s hand. “Fuck yeah,” he whispered, laying his tongue flat on Brendon’s skin where he’d bitten.
Brendon wondered if he should stop thrusting, if it would hurt Ryan, if he was even capable of stopping now, but it all became a moot point when Ryan kissed him and murmured into his mouth, “Think about doing that to Jon,” and he saw that smile on the inside of his eyelids, and he came with a snap of his hips, rocking into Ryan, breathing hard through his nose.
“Oh God,” he exhaled, collapsing onto Ryan’s chest. He heard a soft tiny squelching sound and realised his stomach was now sticky, but the second afterglow of the night was setting in and he couldn’t care.
“We should start you on blowjobs some time this week.” Ryan’s voice had a stretched, languid kind of a quality to it. I never thought I’d hear what Ryan sounds like post-coitus. “Spencer’s really good for those. He gives good direction.”
“I – wait, what?” Brendon was mellowed, but he wasn’t that mellowed. “I have to have sex with Spencer as well?”
Ryan rolled his eyes. “You don’t have to. You didn’t have to have sex with me, either. I’m just saying, if you want to learn how to give really good head, Spencer can teach you.”
“Can’t you teach me? I thought you’re good at that.” Brendon was still getting used to the fact that he had just fucked Ryan, he wasn’t ready to think about going down on Spencer yet.
“I am. And I could, but if you want to learn from the best, that’s Spence.”
“So – what, he’s the best at giving head?” Brendon was trying hard to keep up. Or keep his sanity. One or the other.
“No, the best at teaching how to give head. I told you, he gives good direction. Oh yeah, and – so, you want pointers on the sex?”
“Um.” Brendon squared his shoulders. “Alright, hit me.”
“Like I was saying, not everyone likes more than two fingers. It’s best to start with one, really, but that doesn’t do much for me personally. Once you’ve been doing it for a while, two is good and three is better and dick is even better. Always use more lube than you think you’ll need. Especially for the first time. It hurts, in the beginning more than later, so just go slow with Jon, and when in doubt, use more lube.”
“Okay.” Brendon had never had to think this hard right after an orgasm before. He usually just slept. “So, lube, slow, less fingers is better.”
“Right. And if he doesn’t say what he wants, ask him. And if he doesn’t know, try something you want. And, touch him a lot. The more you touch him, the better the orgasm gets, it’s something to do with nerve endings.”
“Oh. I should have touched you more, I’m –”
Ryan waved a dismissive hand. “You’re here to learn, it’s okay.”
“I thought I was here to get laid.” Brendon wasn’t sure why he was pressing the point, just that he wanted to.
“Yeah, and to learn how to have better sex,” Ryan pointed out. Brendon let it drop. “The main thing is to relax. I mean, you’ve had the freaking out, and now you’ve had gay sex, so, next time it won’t be such a huge thing, right?”
“I guess,” Brendon agreed. “Yeah, I – yeah.”
“Go on, say it,” Ryan smiled, all teeth and eyes. “I was right.”
“Whatever,” Brendon snorted. He really kind of wanted to go to sleep, about now. He tried to rearrange himself around Ryan’s body, and realised he was still inside him. “Uh. Sorry.” He pulled out, carefully, and yanked the condom off. Ryan was ready with a tissue to wrap it in, and handed him the box. They cleaned up, and settled, close and contact and it was kind of nice. Brendon curled into Ryan’s side.
“Last thing,” Ryan said through a yawn. “Not pulling out right away? I don’t think everyone’s into that, but yeah, if you are it’s really good. Like, you feel just full and warm, like everything’s right with the world.” He paused, and Brendon put one arm around him to hug him closer. “Brendon?” Ryan whispered. “Thanks for saying you’d stay over tonight. I kind of … hate the quiet, sometimes, when it’s just me.”
“’S okay, Ryan,” Brendon murmured, nuzzling his neck, and hey, it seemed he got cuddly after sex. That was something else to know. “Any time, you know that.”
Ryan wriggled a little closer, and Brendon was a little warmer, and he fell asleep listening to Ryan’s breathing.
How the hell, Brendon wondered, did one approach one’s good friend – one of one’s best friends – and ask for blowjob lessons? Hi Spencer, Ryan told me about your direction skills when we fucked this weekend, can I go down on you? Or what about, So Spence, how about some fellatio? There was always the classic, Spencer, I have spent the last four days re-evaluating my sexuality in light of a very raging crush on a guitar tech for a band I have met once, and also the gay sex I had with Ryan and wouldn’t say no to again. Would you care to give me some tips on my oral sex technique so I can sleep with said guitar tech next time he’s in town and make him come so much he wants to keep me?
He decided to get Ryan to do it.
“So I hear you’re gay now,” Spencer said in reply to Brendon answering his phone.
“Not exactly,” Brendon winced slightly. “Just, uh, a little bit. Ryan talked to you then?”
“He said you two had sex so you could date this guitar guy you guys met, yeah.”
Brendon closed his eyes, and contemplated putting his head between his knees. “I am never going to hear the last of this from either of you, am I?” he asked, resigned.
“No.” Spencer didn’t even have the good grace to sound apologetic. He didn’t even sound gleeful, which in a way was kind of cute – on Ryan, at least. Spencer was simply stating a fact. Brendon was starting to think he might hate Spencer, too.
“What if I changed my name and disappeared and went to live in a cave in Tibet?” he hazarded.
“We’d find you. We would hike there, and we would put a sign in the ground that just said ‘gay sex’ with an arrow pointing to your cave.”
Brendon had to admit that Spencer was probably right. “I’m doomed,” he concluded.
“Yes. Yes you are. And you can either be doomed with or without my help, which will it be?”
“With. Please.” Brendon decided he may as well stick his head between his knees. It was uncomfortable to talk like that, but he felt slightly calmer. “When are you free?” he asked his chest bone.
“Tomorrow night good for you?” Spencer asked. “You could come over after school, I’ll be the only one home.”
“Okay,” Brendon said to his ribs.
He couldn’t concentrate in school the next day. He kept thinking about the dream he’d had the night before, of being chased by a giant penis holding a sign that read ‘gay sex and guitar lessons, $10 an hour’. He rather wished he could fire his subconscious. When he got to Spencer’s house, his hands were sweating and he sort of regretted eating lunch.
“Oh relax, it’s not like I’m going to pull your teeth out,” Spencer snapped when he saw him, and repressing the urge to kill him at least made Brendon feel like his insides were untwisting. “Come on, if it makes you feel any better we can eat cookies and watch TV first.”
“That – can it be MTV?” Brendon asked. Spencer gave him a real smile, and went to get the cookies, and Brendon switched the TV on.
“Oh my God,” Spencer said when he came back in, bearing two plates, “what the fuck is this?”
“Exactly.” Brendon grasped at a cookie and bit into it, spraying crumbs. “I mean, look at what she’s wearing.”
“You were kind of born to be gay, you know that?” Spencer poked him in the side, and Brendon stopped wanting to run back out the door and get in his car and drive home and look at naked pictures of women on the internet. “Holy shit, who made this crap?” Spencer gestured at the television. “When we have videos, let’s do something imaginative, like, an entertaining spectacle and shit, this is just crap.” He turned to Brendon, animating. “Me and Ryan were talking last night, about having like, this really elaborate album cover, and carrying that over to the videos – I mean, our music’s gonna be complicated and shit, let’s do the whole thing like that – you’re gay, right? You’d wear a top hat on stage, right?”
Brendon felt the rather familiar slapped-around-the-face-with-Spencer-and-R “No words in the vernacular,” Spencer joined in. “Can describe this great event,” Brendon grinned. “You’ll be dumb with wonderment,” they chorused. “Returns are fixed at ten per cent,” Brendon intoned. “You must agree, that’s excellent,” Spencer asided. “And on top,” Brendon sang, “of your fee.” “You’ll be involved artistically,” they harmonised. “ – thing,” Brendon finished, nodding. “So,” Spencer said after a pause, “gay sex.” “Please never start any conversations with ‘So, gay sex’ ever again.” Spencer cocked an eyebrow. “Shit, you’re going to be starting conversations with that until the end of time now, aren’t you?” Brendon dropped his head into his hands. It was becoming a familiar position. “My mom’ll be home in a couple of hours,” Spencer pointed out. “You want to suck my dick, or what?” “If – okay, I was about to say ‘if I’d known it would give me this much trouble, no’, but I – well, I know you, so. I guess I can’t say I wasn’t warned, right?” Spencer tapped one finger on his knee. “Fellatio?” he tried. “At least you didn’t say mouth organ,” Brendon sighed. “Or is that exclusively the mating call of the common or garden Ryan-and-Spencer?” “Kinda. Is there going to be sex or not?” “Yes, Jesus, just give me a minute.” “Well, we’re not going to do it here, come up to my room,” Spencer rolled his eyes. Brendon followed him, contemplating smothering him with a pillow and whether he’d be able to do that with his head in his crotch. He concluded that he probably wouldn’t be able to reach. “Okay,” Spencer said when they were in his room and the door was closed, “would you rather we were lying down or I was standing up or sitting?” “Dude, you’re the one who’s done this before, not me. You pick.” “How are your knees?” Spencer regarded him thoughtfully. “They’re fine, Spence – I’m seventeen, not seventy.” “Yeah, but do you want to be kneeling up the whole time? Because it makes no difference to me, but you’ve got to be comfortable.” “I don’t – I don’t know, Spencer, I’m new to this.” Spencer waved a hand. “Okay, fine, let me think. It’d probably be best to start you out with lying down, we can try standing later. The basics are the same, but it’s good to get used to the angles.” “Have you done it before? I mean, given head, not just gotten it?” Brendon was suddenly curious. “Yeah, of course, I practiced on Ryan. Sometimes I still do, just for fun.” Spencer shrugged. “Ryan makes these little noises when you go down on him, it’s different to when you fuck him. They’re really sweet.” Oh my God, Brendon thought, Spencer’s in love with Ryan. “So, I’m going to,” Spencer started unzipping his sweatshirt, and Brendon fumbled with his own. “Should I, uh – do I need to be naked as well?” he asked, feeling like the most awkward virgin in the history of ever, which was odd seeing as how he’d fucked a guy not five days previously. “You don’t have to be, no,” Spencer said, shirt over his head and pants coming down. “Unless you want me to give you head, too. Which, by the way, I’d do.” “Really?” Brendon looked at him, curious. “What about anyone else – Brent, would you go down on Brent?” Spencer made a face. “Ew no, he’s like, my brother or something.” “I kind of thought me and Ryan were like your brothers too,” Brendon admitted. “Or something.” Spencer locked eyes with him, and Brendon was, for a second, wholly and utterly aware of Spencer Smith as a sexual being. “Dude, no,” he said, and Brendon swallowed. “Oh,” he said. “But Ryan’s best to go to for head, oh my God, he does this little thing with his tongue that, uh, I should call him soon. Anyways.” Spencer sprawled out on his bed, and Brendon couldn’t take his eyes off Spencer’s cock, bobbing and flushed and hard and it occurred to him that until recently, he’d never really thought of Spencer as a person with a dick. Not that he’d thought of Spencer as a person with a vagina either, but just, somewhere along the way he’d become aware that Spencer had a cock, and he didn’t know when it happened or how, but it didn’t really matter, because he was looking at it now and actually salivating. “So uh,” he kneeled on the bed, between Spencer’s legs, “what do I do?” And Ryan had been so right, but Brendon was never going to tell him that. Spencer crooked a finger. “Come here first,” he said, one eyebrow quirking, and Brendon felt as if he were being caught with a fishing line and drawn in. He crawled up Spencer’s body and lay flat against him, nose to nose. “Hi,” he said, feeling awkward. Mostly because Spencer was naked and he wasn’t. “Hey.” Spencer smiled and sort of nudged Brendon’s nose with his own, and a very small part of Brendon’s chest melted. They kissed, neither initiating more than the other, meeting in the middle. Kissing Spencer wasn’t like kissing Ryan; he was surprisingly gentle, but emphatically strong at the same time, and for a split second Brendon thought of a lion, and wondered when circuses would stop haunting him. When the kiss broke off, Brendon moved down to lap at Spencer’s neck. He discovered that he quite liked doing that, so he did it some more, Spencer bunching one hand in his hair and tilting his head back. “Yeah, that’s nice,” Spencer muttered, and his left knee inched upwards, brushing against Brendon’s leg. Brendon pressed down against him, and Spencer arched up. Brendon ran his hands up and down Spencer’s sides, brushing lightly, and over his chest and stomach, trailing fingertips up and down the length of his cock. Spencer whimpered into his ear. “You’re a fast learner,” he observed, and Brendon could feel the curve of his smile against his earlobe. “This is going to be fun.” “Think I know how to start,” Brendon mumbled, moving his mouth down to Spencer’s collar bone, over his chest to swirl his tongue against his nipples, and further down, dipping quickly into his belly button, licking stripes where hips met thighs, all the places Spencer had made sounds when he’d touched. Spencer breathed, in and out, mouth slightly open, lips wet, and Brendon kind of hoped he’d need a few lessons. “You’re – yeah, that’s – good start,” Spencer sighed out, and Brendon waited until the final syllable was gone before closing his mouth over Spencer’s cock. Spencer jerked. “Fu- fuck yeah,” he breathed. “Now,” he partly composed himself, “suck, but not too hard. Do it really softly at first, build it u-u-up, like that, yes.” He bucked, the head of his cock bumping against Brendon’s tongue, and he felt his gag reflex twitch. He pulled off a little more, swirling his tongue against the skin to compensate. “Put your hand,” Spencer instructed, “around the base, that way everything’s covered without you having to deepthroat.” Brendon obeyed, and oh that was easier. He started building up a rhythm, and it was hard, having to work out the pattern of sucks with the up and down motion and what to do with his hand. He tried sucking softly and licking a lot, up and down, and squeezing with his hand. “Okay, try twisting your wrist – yeah, like that. And – and don’t work too hard on the rhythm, I can fuck your mouth, concentrate more on the sucking. I mean, you can go up and down and up and down all you want, but if you’re not sucking much it’ll just be like a wet jerk-off.” Ryan wasn’t fucking kidding, Brendon wanted to say. But his mouth was kind of full. He shifted his concentration to hollowing his cheeks, sucking hard and then soft, trying it out. “Mmm, that’s good,” Spencer told him, thrusting up into his mouth. Brendon twisted his wrist again and set up a pattern of soft soft soft hard soft soft soft hard. Spencer twitched with every hard suck and made low pleased noises at the soft ones. Brendon was almost developing a headache with concentration, and his jaw was starting to ache. Saliva collected underneath his tongue, and he displaced it around his mouth. A little of it escaped through a corner of his mouth at around the same time he suddenly got a heady taste, something strong and musty. He licked, and realised the taste was coming from Spencer’s cock, that he must be close, and he sucked harder, twisted his wrist sharper, and Spencer’s hands tangled in his hair as he bucked into his mouth, once, twice, a wordless soft yelp and a third thrust and Spencer came. It was weird, and in his mouth, and Brendon didn’t know if he should swallow or not. He decided to try, so he pulled his mouth away from Spencer’s body and swallowed – and promptly choked. Spencer held out a wad of tissues for him to spit into, and he used them all. “Yeah, swallowing kind of takes some getting used to,” Spencer said, settling back with an almost visible glow. “Some people just hate it anyway. Try spitting for a while, or pulling off right before he comes – we can try that next time. Maybe. It’s not really beginner’s stuff, facials, but if you wanted, we could try it.” Brendon was breathing hard and massaging his jaw. “So,” he said, “how’d I do?” “Pretty okay,” was Spencer’s assessment. Brendon made a face. “I could do way better than that, I just need to try some more.” “Practice,” Spencer stretched, “makes perfect.” He gave Brendon a look of satisfaction, and tilted his chin upwards invitingly. Brendon crawled up his body again, and Spencer kissed him, licking at the corner of his mouth. “You know what?” he said, one arm pulling Brendon closer, “I taste good.” “I know.” Brendon made some quick calculations. “How long do we have before your folks come home?” “Not long enough,” Spencer replied, not even looking at the clock. “But I’m free this weekend if you wanted to practice some more.” “Well yeah, I mean, I want to be good at this. I can be good at this.” “I’m not a guitar, Brendon,” Spencer said, watching him shrewdly. “Don’t think of it like learning an instrument.” “But that’s what I know how to do,” Brendon pointed out. “Okay, but you better treat me better than your piano,” Spencer grinned at him. “Don’t pound on me.” “Only if you ask me to,” Brendon said into the space between their bodies. Spencer curled closer. “Maybe,” he said, smile crackling with satisfaction. Why did nobody ever tell me sex with your friends could be so awesome? Brendon thought, watching Spencer’s eyelashes. Must be a hideous conspiracy designed to stop teenage boys having sex. How terrible. He opened his mouth to share this theory with Spencer, but realised that he’d dozed off. He covered them with the duvet, and kept an ear out for returning family members. Jon called him the next Monday. “Hey Brendon, remember me? Uh, the guitar tech for The Academy Is…? I was just, uh, calling. We’re still on the road, doesn’t look like we’re going back to Nevada any time soon, but I wanted to call you and say hi. Oh, it’s Jon, by the way. There’s – okay, there’s this woman with a sign and it says ‘Free show here’, and William and Mike are taking bets on what the show is.” There was laughter. “Okay, I’ll call you again later, so, talk to you then. ’Bye.” Brendon hung up on his voicemail and tried not to hug his phone in the middle of the school cafeteria. He hit the speed dial for Spencer’s number. “Hi?” Spencer answered. “Hey, I just got a voicemail from Jon, he’s going to call again, and dude, thank you for this weekend.” Spencer sounded like he was very softly laughing. “You’re welcome. You really have it bad for this Jon guy, don’t you?” He paused. “Ryan says he was hot.” “Ryan said that? Remind me to kick his ass. Anyway, yeah, totally hot.” Brendon noticed the table next to his had gone silent and the girls sitting at it weren’t even pretending not to listen. “I just, you know. Wanted to thank you for your help.” “Really, if I say ‘my pleasure’ it’s kind of redundant, but any time, Brendon, seriously. You’re improving.” “Good.” Brendon was finding it really hard not to hug himself or something. Or say anything that might out him to the girls at the next table. “I’ll see you soon, Spence.” He hung up, and returned both to earth and his fries. At the end of his last class that day, Brendon switched his phone back on and couldn’t decide whether to be disappointed or relieved to find there wasn’t another message. He didn’t have band practice, so he drove home, a depressing amount of homework riding in the seat next to him. The phone rang as he was grabbing the bag out of the car, standing on his driveway. He yanked it out of his pocket, saw a number he didn’t recognise, and answered. “Hello?” “Hey, Brendon?” It was Jon’s voice, and what sounded like a busy bar in the background. “Did you get my message? I called earlier.” “I did, yeah. What was the show?” Brendon settled against the car door, suddenly not wanting to go inside just yet. “We never found out, she wouldn’t tell us. I think she was put off by Butcher, a little bit.” Jon laughed, and Brendon tried not to find the sound immensely endearing. He didn’t have much luck. “So what’s going on? We’re in, uh, backwater O’middle state somewhere. It’s cold, and rainy. How’s it in Vegas?” “Cold, but not rainy,” Brendon replied, climbing into the passenger seat and closing the door, because he might as well. “I have way too much homework, I graduate next semester and it’s crazy.” “Yeah, that sucks,” Jon agreed. “I graduated a couple of years ago, and it was pretty amazing I did, I was out on tour all the time. But I’m in college now, kind of, so.” “Really?” I want to date a college guy, how weird is that? A small voice at the back of his head piped up, But which is weirder, the college or the guy? He shushed it. “Yeah, little bit. I’m on the road a lot.” “I guess I will be too, soon. I mean, right after I graduate we’re recording the album. We’ll tour after that.” “Maybe even with us, right?” Brendon could hear that smile. “That’d be cool.” “Yeah, yeah that’d be awesome,” he agreed, and suddenly thought of vans and tour buses and the life ahead of him. “I kind of can’t believe I get to do all that. Touring, and making music and stuff, I mean, it’s going to be my job, you know?” “Yeah. Yeah, I do know. It’s totally great, getting to play to an audience every night. It’s pretty cool from backstage,” he added. “Do you ever miss it? Being in a band?” “Not really. I mean, I guess if another band came along, the right band, you know? Then I’d want to do it again. But I’m pretty happy where I am right now.” “So this band you were in before,” Brendon settled back into the seat, “did you record anything? Maybe something you wanted to, say, send me?” Jon laughed. “We did, actually, and I have no idea if there are still copies left. I’ll call Nick and ask. He was our drummer,” he explained to Brendon’s quizzical silence. “If I find anything, I will. What about you? Anything before this band?” “No. Unless you count marching band. I mean, I’ve jammed with some of my friends, but nothing serious, you know? Not until I met Brent.” “He’s … okay, I know you and Ryan, who are the other guys?” “Brent’s our bass player. Spencer’s our drummer. He’s awesome, you should see him on those things. He and Ryan have been friends since like, kindergarten. I only met Brent last year, he used to go to school with them. Then he moved to mine.” “It’s like this whole other world. Chicago is just like, this huge scene, and you kind of end up knowing half of the people because you used to be in a band with them.” “Sounds cool. There’s … not really anything here.” Brendon unconsciously looked out of the window, craning his neck. “Just desert. But you can see the stars sometimes, I mean, when it’s a clear night and you’re far enough away from the Strip. I kind of like the desert.” Brendon realised he was rambling, and stopped. “Yeah, you can’t really see the stars in Chicago. Too many lights. But we’ve got the lake, and seriously, the city’s beautiful when it’s all lit up at night.” “Maybe I should come see it.” It slipped out before Brendon could think. “Yeah, you should. Everyone should come see Chicago,” Jon grinned. “Shit, I have to go, we’ll be back on the road any minute and I don’t have a working cell right now. But I’ll call you again, okay?” “Cool, yeah. Talk to you soon.” Brendon stayed where he was for a couple of minutes after he hung up, just sitting. It was dusk, and when he got out of the car, a star winked out in the sky.