hobos are the new unicorns (jzbell) wrote in damnyouwentz,
hobos are the new unicorns
jzbell
damnyouwentz

The one where Ryan tops everyone!

... haha, psych! I'm only kidding, Sara would have me thrown out if I wrote Ryan topping in her exchange fic. ;)

Title: There's No 'I' In Ryan Ross
Pairings: Panic!GSF (with a strong Brendon/Ryan flavor), a bit of Jon/Ryan, and implied Jon/William and Ryan/everybody
Rating: NC-17
Summary: Jon Walker attempts the impossible: to make the gayest band on the planet even gayer.
Disclaimer: Real? Not so much.
Notes: For the DYW "These Teen Hearts" exchange. I wrote for Sara, who, shockingly, wanted to read about Ryan getting gangbanged. She also wanted to see rough sex, a little bondage, and comeshots. So, uh, that's all there too. As well as rimming, snowballing and a little ass-to-mouth action. Yeah, probably not for the faint of pants heart. My apologies for blowing past the word limit several times over. You don't mind, do you? And hey, it's even on time! Kind of. Okay, not really, but whatever.

Mega-huge thanks to deliberatehips for reassuring me when I needed it, and to my beta kkpixie for making the mistake of asking me to tell her about that band I like. And then, you know, letting me follow her around and even crash her dorm room, pestering her about band boys and timelines and orgasms and stuff. So many ♥s.

For cyclogenesis.




Jon's talking on phone, reclined back on the bed when Ryan comes out of the bathroom in nothing but a towel. Looking up at him, Jon smirks. "Jesus, Ross," he says as Ryan casually drops said towel, crawling up onto the bed. Ryan just gives him a look, reaching for his t-shirt, and Jon hangs up the phone, letting it drop gently to the floor. "Correct me if I'm wrong, but didn't we just have sex on the bus? I swear to God, I cannot keep up with you."

Ryan just shrugs, pulling at Jon's shorts until he lifts his hips. "Seem to be doing okay so far."

"Yeah, but another six weeks? Fuck, I'm going to need some help keeping you happy." He stops talking when Ryan straddles his hips and leans down to kiss him. "Not that I'm complaining," he mumbles. Ryan nips at his mouth, and Jon gives a little groan.

One of Ryan's hands slides down his body, fingers brushing over his hip, and Jon can't help arching into the touch. "Hey," he says brightly, like he just thought of something. "What would you say if I asked Brendon over tonight?"

"Very funny, asshole," Ryan mutters, crawling back on the bed as he moves down Jon's body to take hold of his cock.

* * *


"Brendon has never fucked Ryan," Jon announced as soon as William picked up his phone.

William's answering laughter distorted into white noise when his breath huffed into the mouthpiece. "Hello to you too, fucker."

Jon rolled his eyes. "Hi, how are you, fine thanks, were you aware that Brendon has never fucked Ryan? Or that Spencer hasn't, for that matter?"

William paused. "Well, I mean, there have to be some people who haven't fucked Ryan, I guess."

"Do you know anyone?"

William didn't answer.

Which made sense because, see, the very first time Jon even met Ryan, he'd fucked him.

Jon knew William was aware of this, as William had been the one to introduce them at the start of the Truckstops and Statelines Tour, drunk but no drunker than Jon himself had been.

"Oh, hey, it's Ryan! Jon, you have got to meet Ryan. I met him in LA." And Jon had not been too drunk to know that by "met," William meant "fucked."

And Jon could see why. "Ryan Ross!" (as William proclaimed once he'd managed to drag Jon over to the skinny boy) had shy brown baby-deer eyes and a fresh smile, sweet but also a little wry, not to mention a slow, deep voice, so much lower than Jon had expected, throaty in a way that made it sound like he'd just fucked half the party.

Jon had smiled.

Fifteen minutes after that, he was pounding into Ryan against a shadowed wall, kicking his legs farther apart and biting the back of his neck as he thrust in, quick and dirty. Ryan moaned into the faded paint, chanted "more, harder, please," and then "yes, yes" when Jon complied. He squeezed Ryan's hip and reached around to tug on his cock, stroking until Ryan came with a grunt, spraying the wall and clenching down so hard on Jon that he lost his rhythm, stuttering into his own climax.

He did wonder, occasionally, if that was the sole reason he ended up in the band: he'd made a good first impression.

But he was not one to look a gift horse in the mouth.

Especially a mouth like that.

* * *


Perched at the foot of the hotel bed, Ryan strokes up and down Jon's cock a couple times before he ducks his head, licking gingerly across the tip. He looks up at Jon, fluttering his tongue, and Jon bites down on his lip, watching Ryan drag his lips along one side of the shaft, then the other, before he parts his lips and lets the head slip in. Inside his mouth it's hot and damp and Jon groans again, his hips twitching. Ryan clutches at his thigh and then slides his hand up, pressing hard and holding him still.

Ryan's stronger than he looks, he's got a fucking vicegrip on Jon's hip, and Jon grins down at him, trying to buck free, testing him. Ryan blinks up at him before narrowing his eyes and pushing down with even more force.

Jon hadn't even been hard when Ryan came over but he's at full attention now, and Ryan moves his head down farther, sucking noisily and making small sounds low in his throat, just enough to buzz around Jon's dick. Jon tilts his head back against the headboard and keeps watching, notices Ryan's free hand steal down between his own legs to tug at his cock, sees his back arch and his body roll, eyes lidded and fluttering. He makes another noise, longer, and it sounds raw around the mouthful he's got.

The vibration courses through Jon, and he swears. "Fuck, Ryan," he says, intending to say more but pretty much unable to finish an actual thought.

Gathering a handful of Ryan's hair, Jon urges him lower, as if Ryan needs any prodding; he's already taking Jon in deeper with every bob of his head, lips stretched around him, glistening wet pink, and when Ryan tilts his head just a little more, Jon can feel his throat closing around the head of his cock.

"You're so fucking good at this," Jon breathes, "all of this," and he decides that the only way to describe Ryan's expression is smug but with a mouthful of cock; it's kind of a good look for him.

Ryan swallows again, and Jon groans happily.

* * *


"Well, not everyone on the planet can be fucking Ryan Ross," William mused. "That's just not plausible."

"They should be," Jon decided. "The world would be a much happier place."

"Ryan's ass," William declared in a voice only slightly mocking, "would end hunger."

"Cure the common cold," Jon suggested.

"Solve the energy crisis."

"Save the rainforest! And baby seals."

"You're an idiot!" William said. "Anyway, how do you know for sure?"

"Last night, Ryan cornered me backstage, after the show. And I was like 'no, Zack's going to kill us' but he just hit his knees, like 'he said we have ten minutes,' and I was like, 'but he meant--' but then, you know."

A little chuckle from William's end indicated that yes, he knew. Jon continued. "And so he's doing his thing, and fuck if he doesn't just get a finger up there, before I even know what's happening."

William hooted. "And you came right there."

"Well. Okay, yeah, but that's not the point. After, I asked him if Brendon gets off on that, because come on. But Ryan just kind of closes up, all of a sudden, and tells me that he doesn't do that with Brendon."

"He doesn't finger his ass?"

"That's what I asked! But he was like no, they don't fuck. At all. And, I mean. I didn't even know what to say! Well, actually I might have asked him if he and Spence fuck, then, because, shit."

"And?"

"No. He said he doesn't fuck his bandmates."

"What about you?"

"He said it's different."

"Well, shit."

"I know."

* * *


Ryan raises himself off Jon's cock, flicking his tongue under the head before dragging it along the sides again. "Gonna fuck me," he mumbles, and with the little hitch at the end, it's almost a question. He doesn't look at Jon, eyelids so heavy his eyes might actually be closed, and Jon scratches his scalp, tangling his hair.

"'Course I am," Jon says, almost like he's reassuring him, maybe even thanking him for asking; Jon likes it when Ryan asks. Ryan glances up at him, licking his lips. Jon smirks. "Don't worry, you're really going to get it, going to get fucked over good, hard...." He trails off, letting it go with the slightest air of mystery, staring back at the gleam in Ryan's eyes before Ryan lowers his head, taking Jon back in. He lets his teeth scrape over the head, just the right amount of pressure, and Jon bucks and wonders just how the hell Ryan even learned that was okay, because jesus, that is not something you should try with just anyone, unless you feel like risking a black eye. He is good.

And as if that's not enough, Jon can see Ryan's arm shifting, and can only assume he's still jerking himself, body tensing and then relaxing, and somehow that makes it even better.

Jon brushes a thumb across Ryan's cheek, a thoughtful gesture, or, well, full of as many thoughts as Jon can manage with Ryan's mouth on his dick. "Don't worry, you're going to love it."

* * *


Jon found Ryan alone in the front lounge and jumped on the opportunity, as he had learned very fast that "alone" and "living in an enclosed space with Brendon Urie" were pretty much mutually exclusive.

"But you want to, right?" he asked.

Ryan glanced over at him, brow lowered, mouth curved into his usual pouty frown. "What?"

"Brendon," Jon said in a hushed tone. He glanced over his shoulder for good measure before continuing. "You want to fuck him, right?"

The frown deepened and Ryan blushed. Up to that point, Jon wouldn't have thought the kind of boy who went down on someone in a gas station bathroom was even capable of blushing, but there it was, pretty much unmistakable.

"No," Ryan said. "God."

Jon grinned, because it was suddenly so obvious. "Oh my god."

"What?"

"It's... You don't just want to fuck him, you actually like him!"

"What are you, thirteen?" Ryan asked, but it was too late, the set of his mouth and the pink flush on his cheeks had given him away.

"And that's why you haven't fucked him, 'cause you've actually got a crush on him!"

"A crush on who?" Brendon said, wandering in from the bunks with his usual impeccable timing.

Ryan jerked, and Jon glanced over at him. Ryan's eyes were wide, and he looked faintly horrified. It was fucking adorable.

Turning back to Brendon, Jon answered, "Justin Timberlake."

"Oh." Brendon opened the fridge door. "Who doesn't?"

Ryan was so pissed at Jon for the comment that he withheld sex for an entire evening, during which Jon got drunk with the crew and somehow ended up back on the phone with William.

"And I'm pretty sure he likes Brendon. Like, like-likes him."

"Jon, you are seriously thirteen."

"Come on, you've seen how Ryan is around Brendon, you were there on tour, too. I cannot believe that Brendon's not tapping that. That Ryan's not, for fuck's sake."

"Maybe he wants more than just a fuck from Brendon."

"Maybe you're a girl."

"Fuck you." William paused. "You really are going to do something, aren't you?"

"I just think this band would be so much more awesome if I could help young Ryan consummate his obvious crush."

"And how do you expect to get Ryan to let Brendon fuck him? Slip a roofie in his Red Bull? Maybe tie him to the bed and lock the door on them, not let them out until one of them is pregnant?"

"Oh, come on," Jon protested a little distractedly. "If Ryan was going to get pregnant, it definitely would have happened by now."

"It's probably for the better. He doesn't have the hips for it."

Jon laughed at that.

"Anyway, if you get yourself kicked out, you can always come back home to me."

"Thanks, but I'm not going to get kicked out."

"Well, you can always come back anyway. Is Ryan Ross really a better lay than me?" Jon could hear the pout in William's voice.

"I'm not answering that. I've got to go. Sleep, or something."

Bill laughed, "Oh, fuck you too!" and hung up.

* * *


Ryan is all the way down on Jon's cock when the door clicks.

Brendon barely makes it a step into the room before Ryan looks over and chokes. He pulls his head back and coughs. "God, fuck," he sputters, glaring at Brendon, who's holding a keycard in his hand and looking more than a little flustered.

"What?" he asks, blinking owlishly. "I. I mean, Jon told me to!" He keeps sweeping his gaze across Ryan's naked body, pausing every time his eyes land on Ryan's face, but always flicking down again.

Ryan turns his glare to Jon, a sharp, wild look in his eyes, and Jon honestly doesn't know whether he should be amused or terrified.

"I hate you," Ryan says delicately.

* * *


Ryan crawled into Jon's bunk and woke him up by pulling down his boxers.

"Jesus," Jon said as soon as he was awake enough to realize he wasn't being molested in his sleep by some stranger, only Ryan. "I don't get it. If you're not fucking Brendon and Spencer, how the hell did you ever survive on tour before me? I mean, you didn't spend that much time on our bus. Do you have a disturbingly large collection of sex toys?"

"Fuck you," Ryan said, but didn't stop maneuvering himself into a suitable position over Jon's hips. He was small and bendy, fucking made for bunk sex. Jon loved his life.

He waited patiently until Ryan had lowered himself all the way down, sheathing Jon fully inside and rocking until his body adjusted, waited for Ryan to set his own rhythm, hips rolling hungrily, and then he spoke up.

"Hey, you think we should wake Brendon up, ask him to join us?" His voice was rough from sleep and Ryan but he tried to keep his tone light.

"Shut up," Ryan said.

"Oh, come on. I think he'd like to watch. Couldn't you just see him... watching us?"

"No, god," Ryan replied but it sounded a little like a gasp to Jon.

"Or do you think he'd want to fuck you himself?"

Ryan's rhythm faltered, and Jon continued, speaking slow, letting the words sink in as Ryan tried to keep fucking himself on Jon's cock. "Bet he would. He wouldn't be happy just watching, he'd have to have you for himself, your ass. Do you think he'd be gentle with you, the first time?"

Ryan was starting to shake, hardly moving anymore, and so Jon took over, pushing his hips off the bed, quick and hard, driving the breath from Ryan's body.

"No," Jon said. "He knows you better than that. He'd fuck you hard," a vicious thrust and Ryan made a noise, raw, from low in his throat, "know that's how you like it, hard, fucking dirty."

"Fucking shut up," Ryan gasped. Jon reached for his dick.

"You'd be such a slut for him, and he'd fucking love it." Jon started stroking him, in time.

"Fuck...."

"Do you think he's good at it?"

Ryan bit his lip, eyes already squeezed closed.

"You don't have to lie to me, Ryan. You've thought about it, thought about letting Brendon fuck you, what it would be like. Do you think he's a good fuck?" Jon squeezed his cock, and Ryan whimpered, twisting his hips. Another tug and Ryan exploded in Jon's hand, splattering his t-shirt with come, back curling as he bent over, panting.

Jon let go of Ryan's cock and grabbed his hips, holding him tight as he snapped his pelvis up. Ryan groaned softly, clamping down on Jon's cock, and Jon came with a grunt and a shudder.

Ryan rolled off and Jon pressed himself tight against the wall, making room.

"You fucking asshole," Ryan mumbled, still breathless. Jon just grinned and combed his fingers through Ryan's hair.

* * *


Jon starts to reply to Ryan's proclamation of hatred but Brendon speaks over him. "Well, shit," he says, and then clears his throat, voice a little hoarse. "Should I just leave?"

"Well, yeah!" Ryan spits, whirling back on Brendon. He's flushed, embarrassment piled on top of arousal, naked, rumpled, mouth swollen and shining wet, and shit, if Brendon has any sense at all, Jon thinks, there is no way he'll turn his back on that.

They stare at each other for a moment, heat practically pulsing through the air between them. Ryan squirms just a little.

And Brendon has maybe a little sense, Jon has to give him credit, because he stands his ground.

* * *


"How come you're not fucking Ryan?" Jon asked Brendon when Ryan was in the bathroom starting on his makeup and Spencer was tucked away somewhere with his Sidekick.

Brendon looked up, surprised and a little something else, almost hurt maybe, and Jon was struck by the sudden sense of doing a good deed, because really, hooking them up would be like a favor to both of them.

"What, like at this second?" Brendon quipped.

"Oh, shut up. You know what I mean. And don't say because you're friends or because of the band."

"Dude, I hate to break it to you, but those are perfectly logical reasons."

"Yeah, sure, but they're boring, I've heard 'em all before. I want a new one."

Brendon shrugged. "Okay. I think you're fucking him enough for all of us."

Jon let out a laugh. "Oh, now that is definitely not true." He shifted a little closer. "Come on, you have to know what a slut he is. Wants it so much I can't even keep up."

Brendon was frowning. "And you thought I needed to know this why?"

"I think you need to help me shoulder the burden."

Brendon's laugh was sharp and incredulous. "'Come on, dude,'" he joked in an exceptionally good impression of a high school jock, "'take one for the team.'"

"Actually, yeah," Jon continued. "I think it would be good for you. Him. Us. I mean, you don't know what you're missing. The way he moans and kind of tosses his head. You gotta fucking hold him down, if you want him to be still, 'cause he just squirms, he loves it that much."

Brendon went completely silent.

Neither of them spoke again before Ryan appeared in the doorway, half-masked. "Brendon," he said, and Jon thought he might have recognized the tone. "If you're not using the black pencil, would you give it to me?"

Jon could see Brendon's adam's apple bob as he swallowed, and he couldn't help feeling a little bit victorious.

* * *


"Come here," Jon says with a slight jerk of his head.

Brendon hesitates, looking at Ryan.

"Oh, come on, Brendon. It'll be fun." He glances down at Ryan. "He wants you to."

"Oh really?" Brendon says, his tone a little sharp.

"Come on, Ryan," Jon goads. He leans down and nudges Ryan's cheek. "You want Brendon to stay, don't you?"

"No." Ryan's voice, however, wavers, and Jon is not convinced.

He slips his fingers underneath Ryan's jaw, tilting his face up to see the struggle tracing across his features. "You don't want Brendon to fuck you?"

Ryan meets his eyes, and there's a flicker there, a plea, and Jon can tell what he's really pleading for; he's practically drooling, for god's sake. Jon grins. "It's okay, Ry, he wants to, too." He casts Brendon a sidelong glance. "Actually, I think we should all do it together. It'll be great."

* * *


"So what's your plan?" William asked him.

"Who says I'm planning something?"

"You're planning something."

Jon silence gave him away, and William chuckled.

"Okay, fine, maybe I am planning something. But it's cool."

"Right."

"No, really, we're all going to have sex, and it'll be awesome."

"All of you? Spencer too?"

"Sure, of course. That would be hot. Wouldn't it be hot, Spencer fucking Ryan?"

"You do realize you're attempting the impossible, right? Making the gayest band on the planet even gayer."

"Fuck off," Jon said. "We can't be the gayest band. And I think it'll be good for us. Like, a team-building exercise or something."

"You do know that not all bands have group sex together, right?"

"Your band does."

"That doesn't make it the rule! Just because a few of us who you happen to know--"

"Most of you," Jon interjected.

"Okay, just because most of the bands you know do have sex, it doesn't mean all bands do. It's not necessary in order to function as a group. Like, I'm pretty sure Hanson didn't have sex together."

"I wouldn't be so sure of that."

"Jon."

"What? It's not like Ryan and Brendon are brothers, god."

William laughed at him. "You know what? Good luck. Send me pictures or something."

* * *


A tiny sound escapes from Ryan's throat, and Jon looks down at him. "What's that?" he asks. He threads his fingers back into Ryan's hair, turning his head to face him. "You do want Brendon to fuck you?"

Ryan's face darkens another shade. "I don't--"

"Aw, you know you want him. You can't hide it. Not from us."

Ryan looks over at Brendon, licks his lips; he gives a little shudder, and Jon can practically see the fight draining out of him. "Okay," he breathes.

"Okay?" Jon tugs on Ryan's hair, enough to make him hiss. "You can do better than that." He turns Ryan's head back in Brendon's direction, and when he looks over himself, he sees Brendon swallow.

"Yes." Ryan melts in Jon's grip, shivering with the exhalation. "Yes, please."

And wow, Jon thinks, that's honestly all it takes? It's almost disappointingly easy, he almost doesn't feel the victory at all. But then Ryan's licking his lips, still blushing prettily, and Jon forgets to be disappointed. Instead, he turns to raise an eyebrow at Brendon, but Brendon's already walking forward, ripping off his shirt and pants and kneeling on the side of the bed, naked. Yeah, the boy does have some sense. Ryan is so obviously staring at his groin, Jon might swear his body is actually straining forward with want.

"God, Ryan," he smirks, "If you wanted it that bad, why the hell did you wait this long?" Before Ryan has a chance to defend himself, Jon taps his shoulder. "You can wait another minute. Get up, you're going to do this right and kiss him first."

Ryan barely hesitates before he obeys, crawling over to Brendon, who is a little wide-eyed but definitely not displeased with the turn of events.

* * *


Jon had finagled Brendon into trading rooms that morning, since Brendon and Ryan usually shared. He figured that had something to do with the fact that Spencer could not tolerate being in a room with Brendon (or Ryan, for that matter) for any extended period of time, not without curtains or something that provides even the slightest illusion of solitude.

Although he did agree to it, Brendon had seemed reluctant, almost upset, and Jon felt kind of bad, even though he knew the switch wasn't going to be permanent. If he hadn't been convinced before, he knew then that he was doing the right thing.

After the keycards had been doled out and then rearranged, Jon had sidled up to Brendon, slipping his into Brendon's pocket. Brendon looked up at him, startled.

"For the team?" Jon said, and grinned, turning away before Brendon had a chance to respond.

He just had to make sure he followed Ryan to the room, but that wouldn't be difficult, since Ryan was the slowest one getting off the bus and Jon could just pretend he was waiting out of the goodness of his heart. Plus, if he got really tired of waiting, he could always call William and pester him. He watched Brendon walk to the door, bag slung over his shoulder, and caught Brendon brush his knuckles over the keycard in his pocket. Jon grinned, and waited.

The plan might not have been elaborate, but Jon had been pretty confident it didn't have to be. He knew all that tension between Brendon and Ryan would do the hard work for him.

* * *


As he gets to his knees, Ryan steadies himself with a hand on Brendon's shoulder, and Brendon touches his arm. They lean in at the same time.

And the first couple of seconds are just about the sweetest thing Jon has ever seen, he feels a warmth in his stomach just from seeing them together, seeing the way Ryan tilts his head so that Brendon has a better angle. It's like the kiss at the end of a teen movie, so cute, and kind of gratifying to watch.

For all of five seconds, anyway. Because then one of them makes this growling sound (low voices, Jon can't even tell who) and Brendon palms Ryan's ass, hauling their hips tight together. Ryan gasps against Brendon's mouth, clutching at his shoulders.

The warmth in Jon's stomach pools lower, then, and he thinks of Ryan's mouth on his cock moments earlier, kind of mourning the loss.

Ryan's fingers slip down to Brendon's hip, inching toward his cock, and Jon knows then that he's going to have to wait his turn. Ryan's fingertips brush first and he quickly folds his fist around, shifting his knees slightly apart. He kisses Brendon's jaw. "Can I now?" he asks, and even though his eyes are on Brendon's face, Jon can tell the question is really directed at him.

"It's okay with me, but you'll have to check with Brendon."

Ryan licks Brendon's throat, repeating, "Can I?" in a slightly lower tone.

Brendon's nodding even before the question is out, "Yeah, do it."

"He'd beg, you know," Jon tells him. "Want him to beg you for it?"

* * *


"Please," Ryan said, on his knees in the back lounge. And yeah, it was probably only contributing to Ryan's delay in getting off the bus, but Jon really didn't have it in him to protest. He stared down, cock in hand.

"Please what?" he asked. He figured there wasn't much venom in his words, but he didn't care, because Ryan was begging anyway, and he kind of really liked this part.

"Want it," Ryan mumbled, eyes following the motion of Jon's fist along his shaft, hand mimicking the rhythm on his own dick.

"Want what?" Jon prodded.

"To suck your cock," Ryan said, and his eyes fluttered as he squeezed himself tighter.

"My cock?" Jon said softly. "Or do you want to suck Brendon's?"

"No," Ryan said, "No, stop it."

Jon tilted his head, whispered, "Spencer?"

And Ryan came with a cry in his own hand. Jon waited for him to catch his breath before inviting him forward.

* * *


Brendon isn't even paying attention, though, and Jon can't exactly fault him, because Ryan's moving down, reaching, and Brendon has to hold him away just so he can lie back.

And then, in the time it takes Jon to blink, Ryan's between Brendon's legs, already holding his cock firm in his hand, licking over the head. Brendon swears, bucking off the bed and Ryan glances up at him before opening his mouth and sucking him in.

Jon feels himself flush, can't help remembering Ryan's mouth on him again, and he reaches down and fists his own cock, so hard still but just from watching now. Brendon pushes his fingers into Ryan's hair, trying to match Ryan's rhythm to his own. Ryan doesn't struggle, just lets Brendon force him lower, eyes watering as Brendon thrusts up to meet him.

Moving up behind Ryan, Jon slides his hands up his thighs and tilts his hips, pulling him closer. Ryan whines, stretching his back, trying to accommodate Jon without moving away from Brendon. Jon runs his hand over Ryan's ass and then slides a finger along his crack, causing Ryan to shudder back against him and moan low around Brendon's cock. Jon hears Brendon groan, and when he checks, Brendon's panting through parted lips.

Spreading Ryan's cheeks apart, Jon leans in and trails his tongue along the same path as his finger. He laps over Ryan's asshole, feeling Ryan squirm under his hands, and then pushes his tongue in through the tight ring. He works Ryan open, getting him slick inside before flicking across the outside too, over and over again, Ryan quivering before him.

He leans back, breathing hard, and dips his first finger into Ryan's hole. Drawing his hand away, he spits, then pushes the finger back in, going deeper, twisting. Ryan cries out and Jon sits back on his heels. Brendon's biting his lip, eyes squeezed shut, hands still in Ryan's hair; he presses his head down and Jon can actually see his hips twitching.

"Shit, Brendon," he says, "Don't fucking come yet." Jon grabs Ryan's waist and hauls him off Brendon's cock. Brendon shoots Jon a remarkably menacing glare, which really only makes Jon want to play with him more. Ryan whimpers, "Want it, want it," and struggles; Jon just digs his fingertips into Ryan's hipbones and holds him back.

"I know you do," Jon says, "But don't you want Brendon to fuck you? Fuck your ass?" He can see Ryan eyeing Brendon's cock, flushed dark red and wet and ready, and he hears Ryan whimper again.

"Yeah, that's what I thought." Using his grip on Ryan's hips, Jon wrestles him over on his back, and Ryan arches into his hands.

"Come on," he whines, voice hoarse, and spreads his legs.

Jon actually hesitates. Shit, he's tempted to let Brendon wait, make him watch, have Ryan first. "What, you want me to fuck you?" he asks with a slight smirk.

* * *


"Okay, but what I really don't get is why you actually want to share him," William asked, and if he wasn't completely drunk at the moment, he was definitely getting there.

Jon smiled even though he knew William couldn't see it. He was sitting in the front, speaking softly while Ryan rifled through his bag for about the twelfth time, frowning and glancing around. "Because I am a generous motherfucker."

William's smirk was audible. "Yeah, you're a real fucking humanitarian."

"Besides, I told you already. Sex with Ryan is awesome, but I can't help thinking we're missing something. Like, as a group."

"And an orgy will solve this problem."

"Ryan's ass, dude, remember?"

"Oh, right."

"No, but really. It's already there, we just have to. Cement it. Solidarity."

"I'm going to pretend I get what you're saying in the hope that it will shut you up."

"Cool." Ryan hoisted his bag, coming closer, and Jon grinned at him as he thumbed off his phone.

* * *


Ryan moans and arches again, and Jon pushes his fingers into his hair. "Don't worry, I will. But I'm going to be generous and let Brendon have you first. We'll all work together. How does that sound?" Jon licks one of his own fingers, reaching between Ryan's legs and pressing it back inside, making sure. The noise Ryan makes is almost enough to break Jon's resolve, and he glances over at Brendon.

"Fuck yes," Brendon says, already turning over to crawl closer. Jon pulls the hand away from Ryan's ass but keeps the other tangled in his hair, cradling Ryan's head.

He watches quietly while Brendon kneels between Ryan's legs, moving into place. And god, the sight of Brendon's cock disappearing into Ryan's body, the look on Ryan's face when Jon briefly glances up, fuck, it's totally worth it, worth having to wait his turn, worth sharing, worth everything. Ryan moans and the note hitches at the end as Brendon sinks all the way in, hips colliding with Ryan's ass.

Brendon gives a couple hesitant, experimental thrusts, and Ryan gasps, "Fuck."

"God," Brendon answers, leaning close and slamming down hard, jarring Ryan all the way to Jon's hand at his head. Ryan reaches up and tugs Brendon down by the neck, kissing him hard, and Jon can hear his moan in Brendon's mouth. They break apart, panting, and Jon grins, bringing his head close to Ryan, who is shifting on the bed from the force of Brendon's thrusts.

"Told you, just like you like it," he murmurs. Ryan whimpers and Jon bites down on his earlobe, feels him shudder, digs his fingertips into Ryan's scalp.

"Jesus, fuck," Brendon says and Jon looks over to watch him jerk already, coming with a gasp all the way inside Ryan. "Shit, I."

"I know, right?" Jon says, and Brendon blinks at him, then breaks into a grin. Ryan is watching Brendon expectantly, and Brendon bends to lick his neck.

"God, I wanted to do that," he mumbles, and Ryan smiles and then tries to hide it. He lies there, flushed and happy, twitching, Brendon between his thighs, and fuck if Jon's own cock doesn't pulse at that, because jesus, you can only ask so much of a guy.

"Yeah, great, now let me--" he begins, but Brendon shushes him.

"No no, wait, wait," he says, muffled in Ryan's collarbone. He nudges his hips forward, and Ryan rolls against him, making a small, pleased noise. Jon mutters a curse, shaking his head, because of course Brendon wants to go again, the fucker. Fucking teenager with his fucking thirty second recovery time. Jon sighs a little, reaching down to stroke his own dick, watching as Ryan pulls his knees up a little more so Brendon can angle in.

Ryan turns to look at him, eyes shining, and then reaches out, arm at an awkward angle but still managing to find Jon's cock, like he's got a fucking homing device for that sort of thing. Jon moans as Ryan's fingers squeeze tight, pulling, and Jon sees his other hand go for his own groin.

Jon doesn't mean to come from that, but watching Brendon pound Ryan, Ryan stroking himself in time with Jon, he gets caught up and feels himself falling before he realizes what's happening. With a groan, he comes across Ryan's fingers, strings of it clinging to his knuckles. Ryan's hand pauses on his own cock and he lets go of Jon, bringing his fingers to his mouth and licking them clean.

Jon hears Brendon's breath stutter, and he chuckles, glancing up. And fuck, he looks good, Jon had been so right, they do look good, sliding together, they look great. Ryan is obviously pleased, maybe even more so than usual when he has a cock inside him, and even though Jon loses sight of Brendon's face as he bites down on Ryan's shoulder, he had seen enough of his expression before to know that Brendon is pretty goddamn satisfied too, hips still shifting against Ryan.

There is just one thing missing from the picture.

* * *


Ryan was fiddling with the keycard and talking on the phone when Spencer happened to come out of the room across the hall. Jon stopped him, whispering conspiratorially. "Did you know Ryan totally has a crush on Brendon?"

The slightly annoyed look Spencer gave him resembled what you might have expected if Jon had asked "hey, did you know the earth is totally round?" He didn't reply.

"So Brendon and Ryan don't have sex."

"Please tell me you didn't just figure that out. How long have you been sleeping with him?"

"You mean Ryan?"

The suffering look remained.

"That's totally not the point. My point is that Brendon and Ryan aren't fucking."

"Not that I know of."

"And you would know."

Spencer snorted. "Come on, if Brendon fucked Ryan, everyone on the tour would know. Event staff would know."

Jon chuckled. "Okay, true. But do you think Brendon wants to?"

Spencer shrugged. "I don't know. Probably."

"What about you?"

"What about me?"

"You've never fucked Ryan, either, have you?

Spencer shook his head.

"Why not?"

Glancing over at Ryan, who had all but given up with the door and was busy bitching out whoever was on the other end of the line, Spencer said, "We've been friends for a really long time. Not to mention bandmates. I'm not an idiot."

Jon decided to let the boring excuses slide, because it didn't escape Jon's notice that "I'm straight" or "I'm not actually attracted to Ryan" were not at the top of the list. Jon studied his face, and Spencer stared back. Jon heard the door finally open, and asked quickly, "Would you, if the opportunity presented itself?"

Spencer's eyes darkened visibly. "I'm not an idiot."

* * *


Jon finally slips his hand out from under Ryan's head and Ryan is too caught up to notice. Neither of them even looks up when Jon gets off the bed, retrieving his Sidekick from the floor. Ryan does, however, happen to glance over right as Jon is taking the picture.

"Hey, what the fuck?" he asks. Jon is already preparing to send the message. "What are you doing?"

Jon flicked his gaze up. "For my scrapbook," he says with a shrug.

"Come on."

"William wanted pictures?"

Ryan gives him a look. "No, really."

"Okay, fine. I'm messaging Spencer. I think he needs to see this."

"You're not serious," Ryan says, already beginning to squirm under Brendon, who is really not hiding his smirk very effectively.

"Sure I am," Jon replies. "When I said we should all have sex, I meant it. And I meant all of us. It's not really fair to leave Spencer out, now, is it?"

Brendon looks like he agrees, but Ryan speaks first. "Yes, god, it would be fine to leave him out. You can't--" He bucks again. "He's my friend."

"And I'm chopped fucking liver?" Brendon asks.

"Shut up," Ryan says, not looking away from Jon.

"Ryan, you didn't want Brendon to stay, either, and you're not exactly complaining now."

"Fuck you," Ryan spits.

"You're really going to fight me on this?" Jon asks. "You're not going to cooperate?"

"Fuck, no, I'm not going to cooperate. God."

Jon pauses, giving Ryan a second, but he doesn't change his mind. "Okay," Jon says. He makes a decision.

"Brendon, hold him down." Jon lays his Sidekick aside and quickly digs in his bag, pulling an old belt out of the bottom. It's one of those woven fabric ones, and so soft and broken in that Jon can't even wear it anymore, a couple of the grommets torn lose from the holes.

Brendon has Ryan's wrists pinned to the bed and Ryan is making a pretty good show of fighting him, but Brendon clearly has the advantage.

"God, don't," Ryan sputters, trying to pull his arms away as Jon wraps the belt a couple of times around his wrists before securing it to a bar on the headboard. "Don't send that to Spencer, please."

Jon looks down at him. "You want to be fucked, what's wrong with Spencer?"

"Please," Ryan says, eyes wide, and he is so playing it up now, Jon can tell. "You can fuck me, and Brendon, just."

"You want us to fuck you but not Spence?"

Ryan shakes his head. "Not Spence."

"You're lying," Brendon says softly, sitting on Ryan's thigh and still leaning down over him even though Ryan can no longer escape.

"Brendon's right. I think you'd love Spencer to fuck you, you just can't admit it. I think you've wanted him to for a long time."

Shaking his head again, Ryan doesn't look either of them in the eye. Jon rises, picks up his Sidekick and finishes sending the message.

By the time he's done, he's nearly hard again, just from seeing Ryan tied to the bed, the way Brendon's teasing his cock. "Hey," he says, moving a bit closer. Brendon looks at him, and grabs his cock with his other hand. Jon shudders at that, too soon, but his dick isn't really protesting at Brendon's fingers, pulling firmly, rhythm steady. Jon looks down at Ryan, sees him frowning, and brushes Brendon's hand away. He climbs over in between Ryan's legs, and despite the frown, Ryan tilts his head back and hisses when Jon pushes in.

Inside it's slick heat and Ryan is clenching down around him, quivering but still arching up to meet him. Brendon's hand trails down his back, and Jon has a flash of thinking he could do this forever, just not stop, like, ever.

But it takes less than two minutes for the knock to come. Spencer is definitely not an idiot.

Jon groans and pulls out, letting Brendon stay with Ryan while he gets up, going over to the door naked, cock bobbing in the air. He has his hand on the deadbolt when he realizes he should probably check through the peephole before opening the door on their little scene; he sees Spencer's tousled hair and smiles, undoing the lock. He half hides behind the door when he swings it in, letting Spencer enter before he actually sees Jon. When he does turn his head he blinks but doesn't say anything. Then he glances at the bed, where Brendon had already jumped back on Ryan, and makes a surprised sound.

"Oh, shit."

"Yeah," Jon says, touching Spencer's hip. Spencer looks down at him again, then back up at his face. "So," Jon continues, "You want to fuck him or what?"

Spencer watches Brendon shifting over Ryan for a moment, seemingly entranced. After he finally blinks, he crosses the room, crawling up onto the bed and looking down at Ryan. He doesn't say anything, and Jon knows he doesn't have to.

Ryan is still hard, leaking against his stomach. Spencer just kind of stares.

"Spencer, you don't have to..." Ryan begins, voice wavering, although that could be from Brendon's cock in his ass.

"What if I want to?"

Ryan doesn't say anything.

"Don't you," Spencer starts to ask, his voice a little soft. Jon doesn't believe it for a second. "Don't you want me to?"

Still, Jon's patience is wearing thin, and apparently Brendon's is already gone because he shifts angles, pushing up sudden and hard, causing Ryan to moan.

Spencer twitches. "'Cause I'd like to fuck you, Ryan." He glances at Ryan's bound wrists. "But only if you want me to."

Jon's eyebrows go up. "You want me to untie him?" he asks.

Spencer smirks at him. "God, no. I want him to ask me for it."

Brendon looks over. "Why would he ask you when he's got me? Like, you know, right now?"

Jon chuckles, noting the way Ryan is conspicuously quiet, biting his own lip. "He'll ask. He'll ask for all of us."

"If Brendon gives him a chance," Spencer adds, placing a firm hand on Brendon's hip. "Come on, you've had him."

"Not done," Brendon says.

"Brendon," Jon tells Spencer, "is five years old." Grinning, he reaches for Spencer's shirt, and Spencer helps him pull it off.

"Then lets give him a fucking timeout and let him watch for awhile."

Even Ryan laughs at that, and Brendon makes a face at him. Spencer wrestles himself free of his pants, and then taps Brendon again. "Seriously, let me."

Jon hits Brendon on the hip, hard enough to smack, and Brendon jerks away. "The point of group sex, fucker, is the group thing. We can't have group sex if you won't let us fuck Ryan."

"If you both fuck Ryan, won't it be a gangbang, not group sex?"

"Semantics," Jon says with a wave of his hand. "Let Spencer in or I'll throw a bucket of ice water on you, then tie you to a chair."

"Actually," Spencer says, and he and Jon share a look. Jon smirks, hooking his hands around Brendon's waist, and, almost disappointingly, Brendon lets Jon pull him away.

Jon isn't sure whose groan of frustration is louder, Brendon's or Ryan's. "God, he was so close, too," Brendon comments, fingers stealing down Ryan's body, not quite touching his cock. Ryan arches against him, "Fuck," and Spencer crawls up between his legs.

He bends close, pausing before he actually touches Ryan's mouth, and Ryan hesitates, then lifts his head off the bed to kiss Spencer. Once he does that, Spencer kisses him back, hard. Jon sees Spencer catch Ryan's lower lip between his teeth, and Ryan makes a noise, mumbling something.

"Hm?" Spencer says.

"Fuck," Ryan gasps. "Fuck me, please, Spence, I--I want you to fuck me."

Spencer grins. "Since you asked so nicely." He licks his hand and strokes his cock, kneeling closer and then, without waiting, just pushes himself in, Ryan muttering, "Yes, please, please."

"See, Brendon," Jon says softly, hand still firm on Brendon's side even though the odds of him trying to climb back on top of Ryan are probably pretty slim now. "Told you he'd beg."

Brendon turns around, looking back at Jon, and Jon can see that he still has his fingers closed around his own dick, squeezing tight. "Hey, you want--" Jon begins, but he stops talking when Brendon shifts away, obviously ignoring him.

Ryan glances over, breathing hard and rolling with the force of Spencer's thrusts, moaning like he just can't help himself, and Spencer gasps, "God, yes."

Then Brendon is moving in, nudging Spencer a little so that he is more upright, not leaning over Ryan quite so much, and Spencer says, "What?" but Brendon is already swinging his leg over, straddling Ryan's torso and holding himself up with one hand braced against the headboard, near Ryan's hands. Looking down, he says, "Open your mouth," in a low voice. Ryan does.

"Brendon," Spencer says, obviously a little irritated at having to share, and nudges Brendon's back, inadvertently pushing Brendon into Ryan's mouth, faster than he meant to. Ryan tilts his head to accommodate him, allowing Brendon to set the pace he wants, quick and rough.

Watching Ryan take it like that, Jon can feel his own cock twitch, and god, had this been a good idea or what.

He is halfway tempted to call William and laugh in his ear.

Except that would require looking away, and possibly even leaving the bed, neither of which sound at all appealing at the moment. Instead, he moves a little closer, shifting so he can talk around Brendon.

"Jesus, Ryan," Jon whispers. "Can you taste yourself on him?"

"Oh, fuck," Brendon gasps, and Jon strokes down his back, squeezing his ass.

"See," he tells Brendon, "wasn't it worth giving Spencer a chance?"

Brendon's orgasm hits right as Jon says the words, and catches him at the wrong instant, or possibly the right one, because Ryan's mouth is open and Brendon's cock just isn't in far enough, and his come ends up everywhere, lips, cheeks, dribbling down Ryan's chin.

Sagging, Brendon slides back to rest on Ryan's stomach, ass nudging Ryan's cock. Ryan is breathing hard and Brendon is breathing harder, and Spencer hooks his chin over Brendon's shoulder.

"Holy shit," he says. Ryan is looking at them with clouded eyes, hands above his head, and he licks his bottom lip messily, as if he knows it's futile.

Brendon takes two more breaths, and then leans down, kissing Ryan slow and deep, licking over his mouth. Spencer tilts his head and watches for a moment, and then he rolls his hips, casually reminding Ryan he's there. Ryan whimpers against Brendon, and Brendon pulls away.

He turns to Jon. "Why do I think maybe I should be thanking you for this?" His eyes steal down Jon's body to where he is touching his own cock.

Jon raises his eyebrows.

"Because really, thank you." Brendon carefully climbs off Ryan, twisting until he's in a better position. He wraps his fingers around Jon's cock, bumping Jon's hand out of the way.

Jon hears Ryan curse, "God, please," and with a quick glance, he sees that Spencer has resumed fucking him full-force, Ryan pushing back against him as much as he can, hands braced against the headboard where they're still tied.

"Really?" Jon asks, and Brendon nods, "Seriously," giving a little squeeze.

"If you really want to thank me," Jon says, "Roll over."

Brendon blinks at him.

Jon waits.

* * *


"Talk dirty to me," William said by way of greeting. He definitely sounded drunk now, or at least horny; maybe both.

"I--what?" Jon asked with a laugh, eyeing the closed bathroom door.

"What are you wearing?"

Jon laughed again, curling his legs up on the bed. "Bill--"

"Already called Gabe, he was fucking stoned, talking about the cobra again. And not in a way I wanted to hear." William paused. "Tell me about fucking Ryan."

"You know all about fucking Ryan. We were all fucking him on tour, remember?"

"Mm."

"'Course then, there were more of us. Now it's just me, and jesus, that kid."

"'e's not that much younger than you, y'know."

"Tell that to his sex drive. 'Sides, you've fucked him yourself, there's nothing left to tell."

"You fucking suck at this. Say, you get Brendon to fuck him yet?"

"If I had, don't you think I would have called you to brag about it?"

"That's right, you promised me pictures."

"I didn't promise you shit."

"You should film it. Put it on your dvd. Would make a great--what's it called--um. Easter bunny. Egg. Easter egg. Thing."

Jon laughed. "And no, I haven't gotten my bandmates in bed together yet."

"Tell me about that. You just gonna watch Brendon fuck Ryan? And Spencer? Be all self-sacrificing?"

"Oh, hell no, I don't think so. I think I'd really like to fuck Brendon." The bathroom door opened, then, and Ryan walked out, towel draped loose around his waist; Jon forgot to finish the conversation.

* * *


After a second, Brendon does move. He wriggles up beside Jon, stretching out on his stomach, and Jon traces a hand up the back of his thigh, worming his fingers into the crack of his ass. He teases the hole with a fingertip, but Brendon groans, way too tight for him to get very far.

"Hey, Ryan," Spencer is saying in a low voice, and Jon looks over to see Spencer's hand grasping Ryan's cock, causing Ryan to moan even louder. "Are you going to come? I want to feel it, want to," stroking Ryan, and just like that Ryan arches against him, coming with a low whine all over Spencer's hand and his stomach.

Ryan is panting so hard he sounds like he's choking, and Jon leans toward him, scraping a hand down Ryan's belly. Ryan shudders, and Jon wipes away some of Ryan's come, coating his fingers, looking up at Spencer and grinning, "Thanks." Brendon looks wide-eyed over his shoulder and Jon presses a finger right in, starts working him open.

"You don't do this very often, do you?" Jon asks him, scissoring two fingers apart and listening to the hitch in Brendon's breath. Brendon shakes his head and moans when Jon changes his angle, scraping across his prostate.

"Well," Jon says, pulling his fingers out and moving into place behind Brendon, "We might have to change that." He guides himself in, pressing steadily forward, and Brendon swears. "Right, Spencer?" Jon glances up at Spencer, who is watching them darkly, slamming into Ryan fast and hard, and Jon can tell he is close, even closer from the thought of getting to fuck Brendon.

But Ryan is pouting at that, and Jon kind of wants to laugh. "Ryan, fuck," he starts.

Spencer says, "You think I'm going to let you forget this?"

"Besides," Jon reminds him, "now you've got Brendon to keep you entertained, he'll probably want your ass," Jon pushes into Brendon hard, "all the goddamn time."

Ryan twists his head and moans again, loose and pliant under Spencer now that he's come, rolling with the force of the thrusts. The bed's shaking with Spencer's rhythm and Jon finds himself trying to match it, like second nature.

"Yeah," he continues, "You know what this means, right? You're going to have all the cock you want."

And Ryan says, "But--"

"Don't try to act like you don't want it, we all know now."

Spencer mutters, "I know," and Ryan bites his own lip.

"And this," Jon says, touching Brendon's hip, thrusting hard into his ass, "Brendon... you can have Brendon whenever you want." Brendon kind of makes this noise, and Jon chuckles, leaning down over him and saying, "You like that thought too, don't you, that he's yours now." Brendon shifts over on his elbows to bite Ryan's arm and Ryan hisses, grinding down on Spencer.

Jon pulls out of Brendon suddenly, taking hold of his cock and stroking himself, squeezing and pulling hard until he comes on Brendon's lower back, right where his ass starts to curve.

Watching the splatter against Brendon's skin sets Spencer off and seconds later he's coming, thrusting forward into Ryan so hard he slides up the bed. Spencer shudders, panting, and after a moment, lets himself slip out. Ryan shifts with it, eyelids fluttering.

"Jesus," Jon says, noticing that sometime in there, Ryan got hard again. Brendon starts to move but Jon tells him to stay put, reaching around him to undo Ryan's wrists. Finally free, Ryan lowers his arms but doesn't go anywhere, looking steadily at Jon.

"C'mere," Jon says. Ryan eyes him and Brendon. "Clean Brendon up."

And Ryan does, curling around to start licking Brendon's back, Jon's hand at his head, petting him, and Ryan's tongue lapping over Brendon's ass. When he has Brendon clean, he trails up, following his spine all the way to the nape of his neck. Brendon turns, rolling over and catching Ryan's mouth with his own, reaching down to touch Ryan's cock. He looks like he's about ready to move down but Spencer beats him to it, quickly taking Ryan into his mouth, causing Ryan to moan loudly, bucking up, and Spencer presses his hips back down to the bed with firm hands.

Jon grins lopsidedly and crawls down to join him, nosing in beside Spencer to lick the opposite side of Ryan's cock. He teases the shaft while Spencer sucks the head, and he gets one hand up between Ryan's legs, sliding a finger easily into his asshole.

He curls his finger, stroking in and out, and that does it, Ryan is arching off the bed, noises muffled in Brendon's mouth as he comes in Spencer's.

Spencer maneuvers up the bed and Brendon turns to look at him. Before he can speak, Spencer grabs him by the jaw, pulling him into a kiss, rough, and Jon can only watch, breathless. It's not perfect, it's wet and messy, and Jon can actually see Ryan's come leaking out of the corners of their lips; Ryan stares with wide eyes. When Spencer finally lets Brendon go, Brendon's eyes are dark and he licks his lips, swollen from Spencer's teeth.

It's only then that Jon notices Ryan's hand on Brendon's cock, jerking him steadily. He thinks about helping but never really makes it that far, Brendon already tossing his head back and coming in Ryan's grip.

Ryan looks down at his hand and then brings his fingers to his mouth, licking a knuckle clean. Brendon reaches out and takes hold of his wrist right where the skin is still red from Jon's belt. Ryan lets him draw it close, watches as Brendon licks his own come off, as he takes one of Ryan's fingers in his mouth, sliding down before pulling it out, dragging his teeth along.

Spencer sniffs and Jon grins at him, waiting a moment longer, just kind of basking. Eventually, he gets up, and heads for the table.

When he turns back around, Ryan and Brendon are making out on one side of the bed, and Spencer is watching them with an eyebrow cocked. He glances over at Jon, who's grabbing his Sidekick.

"Feeling a little like Dr. Frankenstein?" Spencer asks, indicating the writhing bodies next to him on the bed and managing to sound satisfied, amused, and bored all in one question.

Jon laughs and lets his eyes graze down Spencer's body before answering. "It was totally worth it." He sits back on the bed and Spencer slides over next to him, draping one arm across his chest.

* * *


"Ask me what I'm wearing." Jon says into the phone.

"Dude, that's not how--"

"Shut up and guess."

William sighs. His voice sounds thick and sluggish when he speaks.. "You suck, I already tried to get you to--"

"Just say it, asshole."

"Okay, god. What are you wearing?"

Jon pauses significantly. "A naked eighteen-year-old."

William is silent.

"And uh," Jon nudges Ryan and Brendon with his foot, and someone grunts at him. "I'm accessorizing with a pair of post-coital guitarists."

William still has not responded when Brendon leans over and grabs the phone away from Jon.

"Hey, Bill. Look, Jon's going to have to call you back. We're not through here. Yeah, Ryan. You know how it is." He's grinning when he turns the phone off and tosses it aside. "William says you're a motherfucker, and he expects the gas prices to be lower tomorrow. I think he must have been stoned." He turns back to Ryan, who's got that glint in his eyes again. It'll take a fucking team effort, Jon thinks.

He grins, and lets Spencer shift more fully into his lap.

* * *
Tags: fic, fic exchange
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