"Was it just me, or was today extra boring?" Spencer asked, plopping himself onto Brendon's bed and making himself comfortable. It didn't last very long, though, because Jon jabbed his side and pushed his body over to make room for himself. They both laid on the bed, each hanging off the edge and barely fitting. Brendon looked over at them from his desk chair and snorted, shaking his head. "You're taking up all the space, Jon!" Spencer whined, poking the other boy in the stomach repeatedly, until finally Jon simply grabbed his hand and squeezed hard enough to make Spencer's fingers crack. "Ow! Jon! I'm sorry, I'm sorry, let go!"

"Only if you promise not to poke me again," Jon grinned, squeezing Spencer's hand again for good measure. Spencer, whimpering, agreed quickly and when Jon let go, cradled his hand to his chest. "Asshole," he muttered viciously, only to have Jon smack his stomach.

"Both of you are acting about five years old," Brendon informed them, looking over at Ryan and shaking his head in exasperation. "Especially you, Spencer. I see Jon is having negative effects on you," he stared at the boy pointedly, only to have Spencer flip him off. Letting his mouth drop open, Brendon made an affronted noise and scowled. "Fine," he said, lifting his chin and looking down his nose at them. "Don't you two have things to do that don't involve my room?" he finally asked after a few moments of silence. Both Spencer and Jon grinned at him, shaking their heads. Brendon rolled his eyes.

"Didn't you say you still had two assignments for Monday?" Ryan asked, cocking an eyebrow at Jon with a smile quirking on his lips. There was no reason not to be obvious. By now, he had experience that subtlety with Spencer and especially Jon only led to endless teasing. And it had seemed Brendon wanted the other two to leave. The best thing Ryan could do was work with it. "Something about Mr. Briggs flunking you in maths if you didn't start handing your work in on time?" He rolled his eyes slightly. "Unlike a certain person we know who gets a whole week off with no homework and no one bats an eye because the King's signature will be on the permission slip." He stuck his tongue out at Brendon, mock jealous for a moment before he let his face relax into a smile again.

"Hey!" Brendon said indignantly, even as he watched Jon grumble and scowl and pull Spencer with him towards the door. "I'll have you know that the reason I am missing school is extremely important, so. Shut up, you," he muttered, narrowing his eyes at Ryan playfully. He waved to Spencer when the boy called his goodbyes, and then watched the door slam behind them. "Well, that took care of them. Good job," he smiled softly at the boy. "You gonna miss me next week?" he asked, jutting his bottom lip out. He'd received a phone call from his father telling him that he was to come home on Sunday, because he'd be attending an important conference. Brendon guessed that his father wanted to brief him on what would happen beforehand, and then probably quiz him on the conference after. Which was why he'd be gone for five days. He sighed. It wasn't as though he wasn't interested in the running of his country, but he felt like he had better things to do, now. There was no use arguing with his father, though.

"Of course I am," Ryan answered with a chuckle. "It's going to be bloody boring, is what it will." He widened his eyes dramatically in response to the pout. "How can you leave me here with no one but Laurel and Harvey for company for so long?" he wailed before dissolving into laughter again. It was odd how at ease he felt with Brendon, and to a lesser extent Jon and Spencer, whose suspicions seemed to have died out again, even while there was that whole other awareness. Sometimes it didn't even feel like acting anymore, but then he'd remember some lie or another and the illusion would shatter. Damn, he was really getting much too personal about this whole thing. It was just a job. Just. A. Job. But with Brendon especially, some things just felt so natural and easy that it was difficult to see it that way. He sometimes couldn't help but wish that he'd had some prior experience with relationships, something, anything to make it hit farther from home, to affect him less. With an internal groan, he pushed those thoughts away, and buried them deeply, concentrating once again on being Ryan Hastings, Brendon's boyfriend, seventeen-year-old school boy. It wasn't as hard as it should be. "Seriously, though. It's going to be a drag."

Brendon smiled widely at Ryan and pushed himself off the chair. He gave Ryan a peck on his way by, and then let himself fall onto his bed. It definitely would be a drag. Being at the castle all week, no one to really keep him company. His mother would be there, but she liked her alone time, her time spent reading her books. Brendon, like every other time he went to the castle, would probably spend most of the time in his room or in one of the libraries, only coming out for meals. He hummed softly and patted the space beside him on the bed. "Sorry for leaving you with," he scrunched his nose, "whoever those people are." He chuckled and placed one hand behind his head and the other on his stomach. "Not really my fault, though. I'd obviously much rather be here," he added cheekily. He wouldn't admit it, but he was kind of nervous about what he would hear at this conference. What if a law that he didn't agree with was suggested? What if his father was planning something? What, he didn't know. But he didn't want to hear any bad news, that was for sure. Which was sad, really, since he knew that when he was King, he would have to deal with serious and sometimes possibly disturbing things. He didn't want his father to do things he disagreed with, but it wasn't as though he could say anything about it, either.

"Think the conference is going to be bad news?" Ryan asked softly, swallowing slightly. He didn't want a war. Who did? And he didn't want Brendon, a mere eighteen-year-old to be pushed into helping to plan or even start it for purely moral reasons, of course. That was the kind of thing that would really wreak havoc on a person's psyche, especially one like Brendon who, essentially, was a softy no matter how much he tried to hide it. Ryan couldn't imagine the younger boy as a king. Too many hard decisions that could turn out badly no matter what he did. Brendon, really, was the kind of person who'd work himself to an early grave trying to make everything as good as possible for as many people as possible. And neither would he abdicate. He simply loved his parents too much, in spite of the conflicts and disagreements he might have with his father. Ryan really didn't understand something like that. But perhaps that was because his own father wasn't really the type to inspire much loyalty at all. Brendon shrugged uncomfortably, looking up at Ryan through his bangs. "I don't know," he said, louder than he had wanted it to come out. "Just... please don't ask me any questions when I come back. I won't be able to answer you, and I'd really rather not tell you to stop talking, or... you know." He stopped abruptly, sighing. "I'm sure it'll be fine. It's just one conference, after all..." he trailed off and cleared his throat, averting his eyes. He picked at his shirt with the hand on his stomach and stared intently at the wall in front of him, at the door to his washroom. His life was basically one big secret sometimes. He hated keeping them, but he was good at it, which was really all that mattered. "Anyway, let's not talk about this right now," he said, looking back at Ryan, though he didn't like the pleading in his voice.

"Of course it'll be fine," Ryan reassured with a small smile before nodding. "Don't ask, don't tell," he stated. "And stop tensing so much. You'll give yourself a marvellous backache that way." He rolled his own shoulders slightly, wincing at the small pops that emitted. "I think I need a better posture," he muttered, sitting up straighter. He eyed Brendon for a moment, eyes narrowing slightly. "Why is it that even when you're relaxing, you're tense?" He finally shut up, smiling slightly. "Sorry. You know how much I like to babble."

Brendon chuckled and shook his head. "You're adorable when you babble, though you do say a bunch of useless things," he grinned and motioned for Ryan to join him on the bed. "And maybe I like giving myself a backache-- you could, after all, give me a back rub," he suggested, waggling his eyebrows in a manner that was completely unlike his usual self. "But, yeah, I'm sure everything will be just fine. And I'm never tense, might I add. Simply on guard at all times," he nodded, as if agreeing with himself. "It's just the way I've been taught to carry myself. I do have to seem like I know what I'm doing, or else people would start doubting me and that, my friend, would not be good at all." "I, personally, tend to believe in people more when they're relaxed in what they're doing," Ryan stated. "When you're tense, your body language sends out the message that you aren't confident in yourself or what you're doing." He shrugged, getting up off the couch. "Of course you may have different mannerisms around here," he added with a wink as he crossed the room, sitting down next to where Brendon was lying and leaning down to kiss the top of his uncharacteristically messy head of hair. "You do realize that back rubs work best when the back is actually accessible, right?" "Ooooohhh, yay," Brendon said giddily, quickly turning over and laying on his stomach. He hesitated for a moment, then lifted his upper body and yanked his shirt off. "D'you have some oil?" he teased, smiling up at Ryan. "And, for your information, I'm not tense, I am simply... not very relaxed," he finished lamely, before resting his head on his folded arms and hiding his face. "Now please be a good boy... friend and rub my back," he said quickly, his voice muffled by the pillow, and he blushed. He didn't doubt that Ryan would notice how red his ears had gotten. "Has anyone ever told you just how adorable you are?" Ryan asked with a slight, suppressed laugh. "And I hope you realize we're in your room, not mine. And I don't think I have any oils unless there are some in that... box Tobe sent me." He shuddered slightly, glancing out of the corner of his eye at the smooth, pale expanse of skin in front of him. It was all he could do not to shudder again. "Don't you have any hand lotion or moisturizer or something?" He placed one hand on Brendon's back, kneading slightly and most decidedly not enjoying the warmth radiating from the bare skin. Brendon hummed, taking his time in answering. "Mmmm... I don't know. I don't think so, just some soap and... just some soap," he finished meekly. "You can... go check in the package your brother sent, if you want. We'll have to check it out sometime, won't we?" He chuckled, but only to hide the fact that he was decidedly embarrassed about what he'd said. It was the first time they weren't fully dressed in each others company. It seemed a lot more intimate than rubbing up against each other, that was for certain. Or maybe it was just him. He'd definitely never done anything like this before, that was for sure.

"All right," Ryan answered with shrug. "Guess I will. I grew up with him, after all. Already scarred for life." He removed his hand and got up from the bed before leaving the room and padding across the hall to his own. He opened the closet where the box had been stuffed in the very bottom, under a variety of dirty laundry, and pulled it out, raising an eyebrow sceptically when he opened it. It was funny, really. These things didn't seem half as mortifying and stupid and dirty alone locked in his own room as they had done in the cafeteria in front of everyone else. It wasn't really outrageous stuff, even. Just various kinds of lube and condoms, a... book? Perhaps he'd be best off reading that some day. And then a catalogue of the more adventurous stuff. Not that bad really. Where were... There! He knew he'd seen massage oil in there during that brief glimpse in the cafeteria. Five different kinds, no less. If Tobe was anything, it was over the top. With an eye-roll, he picked up the tubes and bottles, stuffed them in the pockets of his hoodie and packed the box away again before setting off back to Brendon's room. "If you want heating oil, it comes in peppermint and strawberry. There's one gel, apple scented, and with the lotion kind it's coconut or chocolate," he stated, reading on the containers before tossing them onto the bed next to Brendon. "Trust him not to get anything neutral."

Brendon turned to look at the bottles on the bed, eyebrows raised. "Whoa, okay. Umm..." he flushed deep red before rolling his eyes at himself and quickly picking the peppermint one, holding up the bottle for Ryan to see. "This one?" he asked, nervous for many reasons and, yet, it seemed like very little to be nervous about. It was only a back rub, right? He turned back onto his stomach and pushed his face into his pillow. "I'll do you after, if you want," he suggested quietly, half hoping Ryan wouldn't hear him. The other part of him, though, was excited at the prospect of touching Ryan like that. He'd begun feeling relatively comfortable around the boy, and perhaps this would help them loosen up just a bit more, give them a bit of a push.

"Maybe that'd be nice," Ryan conceded, nearly as quietly, looking at the bed and Brendon on his stomach and trying to figure out the best way to go about it all. "Do you mind if I...?" He blushed slightly, and climbed on the bed, getting on his knees, one on ether side of Brendon's waist. Well, at least he wasn't sitting on him, so it didn't really count in a sexual way. Not much. He quickly picked up the bottle, opened it and squirted some of the stuff onto his hands, starting to rub them against each other to get the heating effect going. When it finally wasn't nearly as cold against his fingers anymore, he reached his hands down and started kneading the muscles between his fingers slowly, trying to feel out the knots. "This okay?" he asked softly. "I haven't actually done this a lot." Or at all, but that fact could shatter the image of Ryan Hastings, and he wasn't about to do that.

Brendon hummed contentedly again, and nodded into his arms. "Yeah, that's good," he said, sighing. "Go about it any way you feel comfortable," he said a few minutes later. If Ryan wanted to sit on his butt, then that was fine, wasn't it? He stretched his back slightly, his eyes fluttering as Ryan worked at his muscles. When Ryan kneaded at a particularly knotted spot near his shoulder, he moaned rather loudly before snapping his mouth shut and biting his lip. He felt too good to be embarrassed, though.
Ryan hummed slightly, deciding to take the advice. He slowly trailed his fingers up and down the warm, smooth flesh, feeling out the knots and tensions before focusing on a spot just beneath Brendon's shoulder blades, using his knuckles at first to loosen the muscles up a little, trying to keep his touches gentle enough not to be painful. The scent of peppermint seemed to be spreading through the room at an alarming rate, and Ryan had to hold back a sneeze even as he switched to using his fingertips again on the now slightly loosened muscle. And now that he wasn't focusing on how awkward it was, it was actually nice. Comfortable and relaxing, really. And the feeling of warm, soft, slightly perspiring skin under his hands wasn't really something he could bring himself to feel opposed to either. "You feel like you have more muscle than is really visible," he stated with a small laugh, picking up the bottle with one hand and pouring just a little more out onto Brendon's back. "Sorry, I know it's cold."
Brendon hissed slightly when the oil dribbled onto his back, then relaxed and smiled, turning his head to the side so that Ryan could see his face. "Oh, yeah, well, I work out all the time, you know," he said playfully, opening one eye to look up at Ryan. The oil smelt extremely strong, clearing Brendon's sinuses and actually helping him breathe better, though he hadn't known previously that he'd been slightly congested. But the scent and feel of Ryan's hands, not to mention the warming quality, was making him kind of sleepy and when he closed his eyes, he felt as though he was going to nod off at any second. It actually took a lot for him to relax and keep himself from falling asleep at the same time. He didn't really think Ryan would appreciate not having his turn. So Brendon, to keep himself awake, and taking the risk of looking like a complete creep, began humming. It was just some random classical piece he'd heard his mother play, but it was enough for him to concentrate on something other than falling into a deep sleep. "You really do have a beautiful voice, you know," Ryan murmured, moving away from the now softened muscle to some of the other ones that weren't as tense as this one had been, but must still be annoying. Not that it mattered much. This had probably stopped being about getting knots out of muscles several minutes ago, and a lot more about the relaxation and togetherness of it. "If you weren't a prince you could totally be a famous singer." He laughed slightly, taking his hands off for a minute to stretch out his fingers and wrists. "And don't just brush me off about it either, it's true." He put his fingers back down, careful not to move too far down the small of Brendon's back. He still didn't want to scare the boy off, and that definitely meant staying away from some areas until Brendon went there or suggested going there. They may have gotten off together, but that had still involved more clothes than the younger male was wearing at the moment. "And obviously you work out," he added with another laugh, smiling down at Brendon's face to make sure he knew Ryan wasn't really being serious. "You don't let Zach carry your book bag every day after all." Brendon sighed and kept up the humming until Ryan's last comment made him laugh. "My mom had me take singing lessons and all that, along with piano lessons and various other instruments. She's always been into the arts, donated money to her favourite theatres and orchestras and classical musicians... I used to sing a lot, but it's not going to get me anywhere, so it doesn't really matter. My mother used to make me sing for her sometimes, and it made her happy, but she doesn't ask me anymore..." he trailed off and sighed, his eyes fluttering as Ryan kneaded his back. "I asked Zach to carry my bags a long time ago, and then I never asked him again. He set me straight on what he would and would not do, let me tell you. Actually scared me half to death. Which, I think, is part of the reason I trust him to protect me." He chuckled and shook his head at the memory, remembering how Zach had loomed menacingly over him, eyes narrowed, and his deep, gruff, voice telling Brendon that he wouldn't carry some book bag for a spoilt prince. Brendon had been miffed at the time, but he now recognized that he'd deserved the harsh words.

Ryan sighed inaudibly. Brendon was a good kid. The kind who deserved the choice to be anything he wanted to be, not just to have his future mapped out for him without any say in it. But he recognized that it would probably be a painful subject to talk about, so he went off on another note instead. "I play," he stated truthfully. "Not a lot for the last few years, but I used to do it every day when I was younger. Guitar and piano mostly, rhythmical stuff. And some weird instruments if I could get my hands on them. It was fun. When I was fourteen I was convinced I was going to be a famous song-writer, probably the guitarist in some band - God knows I don't have a strong enough voice to sing lead - and we'd make it big and everything would be great, but I guess I grew up enough to realize I had a more important job to do." He dug his fingers in a bit, fighting a persistent knot for a few moments before it finally gave in and surrendered, becoming soft and supple again. "I suppose the dream just wasn't strong enough."

Brendon chuckled again, smiling easily. "I guess everybody realizes that at some point. To make something your life, you have to believe in it a hundred percent," he said, and then immediately frowned. The advice he'd just given was something that he believed in, but didn't follow. He was going to make running this country his life, though it wasn't really what he wanted to do. He sighed and pushed those thoughts to the back of his mind. "Speaking of childhood dreams, though, I used to want to become a jockey," he laughed loudly at this, the thought absurd to him now. "I just really wanted to make riding horses what I did for a living. Can you believe that? Granted, I was about five years old, and I had just seen my father's prized horses in the stables, and I had thought them wicked. I can't really stand them, these days. They're kind of ugly," he snorted. "Like you said, I guess I grew up, right?" "I suppose so, yeah," Ryan answered, reaching up and starting to knead Brendon's biceps, the knots in the back and shoulders pretty much all gone. For some reason, though, he could still imagine something like jockeying appealing to Brendon. The speed and the sheer feeling of freedom it would evoke. But perhaps he just didn't know Brendon well enough to say what did and didn't appeal to him yet. "Horses kind of scare me, though," he stated, lying just to fill the silence. "We have this summer estate, that we sometimes go to for a weekend or a whole week in the holidays or whatever, and it has stables, and when we were little Tobias dared me to ride one. I did, obviously, I think you've already gotten the fact that I don't really know how to back out of dares. I fell off and broke my arm and a few ribs and was about five inches away from being trodden to death, and yeah... I don't really have a problem with ponies, but the big ones..." He shuddered slightly, grimacing. "I guess I've always tended to be nervous around anything that was more than just a bit bigger than myself." Brendon snickered quietly, pouting at the same time to show Ryan that he wasn't laughing about the boy having been injured. "Sorry, it's just funny to picture you afraid of horses. I mean, they are kind of ugly and such, but..." he chuckled, shaking his head. "You have a good reason, though, at least. I just kind of lost interest in them when I saw how disgusting they could be. I have a pretty weak stomach," he said, then smiled. "Which won't help me when I'm King," he flashed Ryan a grin before taking a deep breath and stretching. "So, do you, uhh... want your turn?" he asked meekly after a few long seconds in silence. He felt like goo, but in a very, very good way, and he figured that Ryan should get the chance to feel like goo, as well.

Ryan smiled, pulling his hands back. "Yeah," he answered, climbing off. "I reckon that'd be nice." He stretched, getting to his feet next to the bed and reached down to pull off his shirt. Designer, and ridiculously tight once again. Oh how he still detested Tobias for those forced shopping sprees. He had to fight the urge to cross his arms over his chest or cover up in some other way. Being naturally stick-thin and unable to put on weight no matter how much he ate had always made him self-conscious. The 'manorexic' comments in high school hadn't exactly helped him either, and he wasn't really at all fond of being less than fully dressed in front of anyone, but by now it would seem quite odd if he hadn't taken it off, so he'd just have to suck it up and hope Brendon didn't mind his thinness as much as he did himself. "Well, scoot over then," he said, forcing a laugh to hide his uncomfortableness and hoping it didn't sound as fake as it felt. "This positioning," he motioned to Brendon, still lying on his front on the bed and Ryan standing on the floor. "Is hardly going to help anything."

Brendon quickly sat up, his back feeling slick and slightly sticky, and then stood right in front of Ryan. Wrapping his hands around the boy's sides, he leaned in and pushed his lips against his boyfriend's, pulling back only a few seconds later. "Alright," he took a deep breath and moved aside so that Ryan could get situated. He looked at all the other bottles that Ryan had brought from his room, and then looked back at Ryan. "D'you want to try something other than Peppermint? I mean, the scents might clash, but it wouldn't be such a big deal..." he trailed off, feeling nervous. He'd never given anyone a back rub, only received them. He hoped that he could make Ryan feel as good as he'd made him feel. He shivered, the air cooling the oil on his back, though he wasn't quite uncomfortable yet.

"Just..." Ryan started, swallowing slightly, suddenly nervous on top of feeling awkward. "Whichever you prefer. It's your room that's going to smell of it for days," he added, managing a smile before he crawled onto the bed and lowered himself down on his front, head pillowed on his arms. "Really, Brendon," he said, looking back over his shoulder. "You don't have to do this if you're uncomfortable with it."

Brendon shook his head forcefully. "I am completely and totally comfortable with it. The thing I am not comfortable with is my ability at giving back rubs," he chuckled. "So, you know, don't hate me if it's horrible," he winked and then proceeded to climb onto the bed, throwing one leg over Ryan so that he was straddling his butt. He looked down at the bottles again, shrugging and picking up the Peppermint again. Pouring some into his hands, he rubbed them together briskly before placing them near Ryan's neck and then using his thumbs to massage the muscles there, his fingers kneading right above his collarbones. The heavy scent filled the room again and Brendon sighed contentedly. "Smells strong, but good. Like Christmas or something-- candy canes," he muttered, embarrassed right away by what he had said.

Ryan chuckled slightly, feeling his body slowly starting to relax. "Yeah," he agreed. "Or those sweets you get when you have a sore throat and everything just starts to feel like it's going to get better." Having someone seated on his ass felt a little weird, and entirely new, something he couldn't really say he was completely comfortable with, but Brendon's strong fingers digging gently into his muscles felt surprisingly good and seemed to almost force him into relaxation, nervous about the experience or not. The scent, though, really reminded him of cold candies. He hadn't only gotten them when he was cold as a kid. When he'd been living with his father their neighbor, an elderly lady, had given them to him most of the times he saw her. And especially when he was hurt, which he supposed was quite a bit more than the regular kid. She seemed to have an instinctive knowledge of when something happened, and she'd come over to his house the moment his father left, tears in her sad eyes while she muttered something about how sorry she was that she couldn't do anything for him and pressing a bag of cold candies into his hand after she'd helped him clean up. And now that he'd actually thought about it properly, the peppermint smell wasn't all about happy, Christmas-y memories, but something melancholy as well, and he was quick to push the thought away, focusing instead on the feeling of Brendon's fingers kneading his flesh.

Brendon hummed absently, slowly but surely making his way down Ryan's back with his hands. He was currently right below his shoulder blades, his thumbs making circles and his fingers just rubbing firmly. "I never got those candies until I came here. Always some foul tasting medicine or rushed to see a doctor," he finally mumbled, though he was concentrating mostly on Ryan's skin and muscles, and his fingers moving over them, smoothing them out. He had scooted back a bit and was now half-sitting on Ryan's thighs, making sure not to put his full weight on them. While one hand kept working, the other grabbed the bottle again and squirted just a bit onto the middle of Ryan's back and it slid down his spine before Brendon caught it with his fingers and worked it into the skin once again. It was repetitive, but Brendon was starting to like it. He felt himself relaxing, and it was easier to think about the task at hand. On impulse, he bent down and kissed the back of Ryan's neck, trailing his lips downwards for a bit. When he pulled back slightly and licked his lips, he was grateful that he'd been right in guessing that the oil wouldn't be foul tasting. He sighed into Ryan's skin and then concentrated fully on his hands once again, deciding against talking just now.

Sighing slightly, Ryan let his eyes drop closed before letting out a contended breath. He was surprised at how quickly he had become comfortable with this, and just how much he was enjoying those hands working his back. Because of his father's steady military income and his mother's lack of education and therefore low-paying jobs, his father had been given custody after the divorce. And his father was tough and macho and everything that he thought a real man should be. Ryan's mother had always made sure to hug him and to let him know she cared and to give him some of those warm, parental touches that his father thought beneath him, but one weekend a month didn't really make much of a difference, and Ryan had grown up not used to being touched much at all. That was probably why this felt so good, making small, warm flutters rise in his stomach and causing contentedness to fall over him like a blanket. Somehow, even though he did know the situation he was in, did know the possible dangers and risks of it, it made him feel safe, he guessed, humming slightly, just a long tune that died out again quickly enough. He didn't think he'd realized how much he'd missed this kind of closeness, even if feeling it now probably wasn't the best idea.

"This is kind of fun," Brendon finally pointed out, laughing slightly before kissing Ryan's back again. His hands were working his sides, now, firm enough not to tickle, but also rather gentle. He pressed a series of small, feathery kisses to the boy's spine, just because he felt like it, and then grinned against Ryan's skin. "What are you thinking?" he asked softly, sensing somehow that Ryan had his mind on other things beside the wonderful massage he was currently getting. When Brendon got too close to Ryan's waistband, he dragged his hands back up the boy's back and restarted the whole process as he waited for an answer.

Ryan squirmed a little against the almost-tickling sensation. "I guess I just really have this... thing about touch," he explained, truthfully enough. He really didn't like to lie more than he had to anymore, even if he sometimes had to bend and twist it even when telling something that was basically the truth. "Not even a sexual thing, really. Just... my mum had all sorts of charities and tea parties and stuff, always busy and not around much, and my dad liked to be all manly man, so it's the whole cliche, not touched much as a child and as a result starved for it later." He rolled his eyes at himself, shrugging slightly even if it was a bit awkward in his position. He was feeling a little bit embarrassed, but somehow he had started, lately, to feel like he owed Brendon the truth on at least the little things that he could tell, even if it was sometimes a little mortifying and scary as hell.

Brendon nodded, digging his fingers into Ryan's shoulder blades almost hard enough to hurt before pulling back and smoothing the skin repeatedly. "Yeah, my dad's not really the touchy-feely type, either. Unless we're in public and he wants to make himself look good," he said, slightly bitter about it. "My mom, though. She's always hugging me or kissing my cheek, or just touching my shoulder. And she encourages me to do the same." He was silent for a while, letting his hands go further down Ryan's back than they had before and teasing at the skin right above his waistband. "Maybe it's because we had no real physical contact with our dads that we crave the touch of a man," he added as a joke, snickering quietly to himself. He had really just wanted to say 'crave the touch of man'. He kissed the base of Ryan's back lightly before working his way back up. He didn't really know why he was in such an affectionate mood, but he blamed it on being brainwashed by Ryan's massage.

"Psychologically, it makes sense," Ryan stated, his voice gone slow and soft, and he let out a slight groan at the feel of those fingers. "I don't like to believe that's all it is, though," he added, feeling goose flesh rising on the small of his back where Brendon's hands had briefly been. No one had ever actually touched him there before, at least not without the barrier of clothes between. Actually, no one had touched him like Brendon was at the moment, period. He supposed that was what was making him react like he was. And he felt a slight blush rising on his face, hoping desperately it wasn't spreading down to his shoulders or anywhere Brendon could see for that matter, at the sudden realisation that if he weren't so lax that he didn't feel like he could move a muscle if he tried, he would be seconds away from humping the mattress beneath him. It was just an innocent massage, going lower or not, it didn't warrant him reacting like this! Especially since he wasn't really gay or anything. Just... he was very torn. He was enjoying the massage, a lot, but the embarrassed part of him also couldn't help but wish that Brendon would finish soon. "It would sort of lose some meaning if it were, you know?" he managed to get out in a voice that was almost normal, only a little breathy.

"Mmmm..." Brendon hummed, smirking at Ryan's breathy voice. He sat up, running his fingers right along the inside of the other boy's waistband, seeing what kind of reaction he could get. It wasn't exactly fair, since Ryan hadn't teased him, but Brendon knew that the massage had been arousing, though he'd had too much on his mind to do anything about it. But now... well, he could make sure it felt good for Ryan. "No more talk about fathers," he finally said, swiping his tongue along Ryan's spine. "Grossing me out," he mumbled against Ryan's skin and chuckled breathily. After a few seconds of kissing and licking, he dragged his hands up and continued with a fairly innocent massage, smiling the whole time.

Ryan nearly managed to hold in a groan at the feel of that damn tongue and those fucking soft, perfect lips, trying to control his breath even as it wanted to come out in pants. And he was struggling to figure out how to respond to all of this. What would Ryan Hastings do and say, what would his reaction be? He fought to keep his eyes from rolling back as cool air hit the now wet areas of his skin simultaneously with Brendon's fingers digging into another knot. "Bloody hell," he groaned, looking over his shoulders, his role pulled tightly around him like a shield. "Don't start anything you don't plan to finish."

Brendon smiled widely and leaned forward to push his lips against Ryan's awkwardly, breathing in sharply through his nose. Pulling back, he quickly pushed himself off Ryan, nearly stumbling to the floor, and sighed loudly. "Right, well, turn onto your back," he demanded. "Unless, of course, you'd like to be on top," he grinned, looking almost angry when his eyes darkened. He set about pushing all of the bottles of oil off the bed while Ryan situated himself however he wanted.

Ryan's mind told him that being on top, keeping hold of some control of the whole situation, was the best way to go, but his body protested that it was just too relaxed and weak at the moment to do much of anything, and with a slight groan, he rolled onto his back, looking up and feeling a small shock go through him at the look of Brendon's face. For a moment he felt panic bubbling just under the surface, absolute certainty that he'd been caught, that the truth was about to come out, and absolute fear of what that would entail. He drew a few, quick breaths, lowering his eyes slightly, harshly telling himself that it was just Brendon, just Brendon, nothing to be afraid of. "What did you have in mind, then?" he asked, trying to keep his voice under control, but most likely failing. The trembling could be interpreted in so many ways, though, that it didn't worry him too much further.

Brendon straddled Ryan again and wasted no time in kissing him. He placed his hands on either side of Ryan's head, moving his lips against his boyfriend's soft ones and swiping his tongue across the seam. He nipped the bottom lip gently and then pressed his tongue into the other boy's mouth, his hands moving to tug at Ryan's hair briefly before sliding down to cup his face. He'd grown used to their kissing, and he liked that it could be slow and relaxed, but in the next minute crazed and intense. He liked that he could recognize Ryan's taste, that it was familiar, and that his lips were slightly smaller against his own, but just as supple. He even liked the wet slide of their tongues, the harsh breaths and the way their hands could roam, never stopping. It felt better than he had ever imagined, and he still got that tingling feeling when they pulled apart for breath before smashing their lips together once again. He stretched his body out over Ryan's, now, his legs on either side and their groins lined up almost perfectly. He arched slightly, pulling away from the kiss with a moan, and kissed Ryan's neck, sucking and licking as he made his way back up to that mouth. He felt like he was going insane, really, though he didn't think to be concerned.

The sudden pressure against his lower regions sent Ryan's mind spinning almost at once, and in spite of the previous immovability of his body he found himself arching up almost desperately, gasping as those lips relentlessly attacked his neck. "God," he whispered. "Bren, shit..." It was a struggle to keep hold of his accent when his head seemed to have abandoned him, but having spoken in no other way for months worked to his advantage. He didn't think Brendon would pick up on it at the moment either. He was arching up again, his body looking for pressure and friction without any conscious command from his mind, and he'd already been so far gone, without even truly realizing it, before they started this that he probably wasn't going to last that long. Probably a good thing, since he was pretending to be a teenager. The string of thought disappeared from his mind as quickly as it had come, leaving behind a blur of sensations and images and pleasure. He raised his hands, burying them in Brendon's hair, and pulled the prince's head up to smack their lips together again, one hand going down to roam over that still naked back while he instinctively thrust his tongue into Brendon's mouth, gasping through his nose as he ran it over the roof of the younger boy's mouth, his short, blunt nails digging into soft skin as any conscious thought seemed to leave entirely.

Brendon groaned and ground his hips down, kissing Ryan back fervently. He slid his hands down from Ryan's face to his chest, flicking his nipples with his thumb and panting into the boy's mouth. His hips were moving almost of their own accord, flexing and making him feel warmer by the second. He spread his legs wider and was rewarded when the feeling of pleasure intensified. "F-fuck," he muttered when he pulled back for only a second, and then went back to kissing Ryan again, his tongue sliding over teeth and flicking at lips. Tentatively, he slid his hand down Ryan's body, shifting slightly to accommodate, and cupped Ryan through his pants. He knew that he wouldn't have done it if he'd been thinking clearly-- or at all, really, but now that he felt it, now that he could feel the heat against his fingers, and the shape, and God. He moaned softly and squeezed his fingers slightly, his eyes shut tightly as he tried to concentrate on the kissing, which was decidedly getting sloppy, and tried not to think about what his hand was doing. And he wouldn't admit that he liked it, though it was clear by his reaction, wouldn't admit that he'd wanted to do that since the last time they'd got off together. He had never touched someone else's cock, obviously, but it was something he knew he would remember for a long time.

Ryan moaned loudly, arching up desperately into the touch, much too out of it to be weirded out or to second-guess it at all. He clutched at Brendon, holding on as best as he could while his whole perception exploded into a panorama of colours and feelings, and when he arched up again it only took a squeeze of Brendon's hand to make him shudder as he came long and hard, embarrassingly soon, back tensed and nails nearly breaking the smooth skin of the younger boy's back as he shook through wave after wave before finally slumping down on the bed, boneless again. After a moment he opened his eyes and looked up at the flushed face above him. His mind still swimming, he came to a spur of the moment decision, pushing at Brendon and rearranging himself until they were side by side, facing each other. Then he dived in for another kiss, his tongue thrusting in and out of Brendon's mouth, slow and maybe a bit sloppy and wet now, but he couldn't seem to mind as his hand reached out and trailed down Brendon's chest and stomach, following the still not very thick trail of dark hair leading into his pants. Resting his hand on the waistband, two fingers questing slightly lower, he broke the kiss and glanced at Brendon questioningly through his bangs. Brendon's breath hitched when he looked up at Ryan after having the boy roll him to his side and then proceed to kiss him quite thoroughly. He bit his lip, looked down between them at Ryan's hand, and inhaled shakily. "Christ," he said, chuckling breathlessly. "Fuck, yeah, please," he nodded, pushing his forehead against Ryan's and staring at him. He licked his lips and held his breath as his eyes dropped to look at Ryan's hand, before he closed them and kissed Ryan again. He was so hard, he felt as though he was going to explode. He couldn't remember ever feeling this way, he'd never been this aroused, he had never needed to come so badly as he did right now. He was ready to beg if it would help them along.

Without stopping to think, not least because he had the feeling that thinking would be pretty bad at the moment, Ryan worked the button and zipper open as quickly as he could with only one hand and reached through the slit in the revealed boxers, forcing himself not to hesitate as he pulled Brendon erection out, determinedly not thinking about the fact that he had another guy's cock in his hand. Instead he focused on the kiss, sucking Brendon's tongue into his mouth as he decided to simply go for what felt good on himself and gripping the base firmly, making long strokes up the hot, pulsing shaft and stopping to swipe his thumb over the slit every few strokes, making sure to alternate the pressure and speed. Feeling a bit breathless, he pulled away from the kiss, burying his face in Brendon's neck, kissing and licking and stopping himself from sucking or biting down or doing anything that would leave a mark, his hand moving on muscle memory. Really, it wasn't all that different. The angle wasn't what he was used to, but at least he knew what to do, he evaluated as he pressed his thumb extra sharply against the head before making another down stroke, licking a long line nearly all the way up to Brendon's ear.

Brendon's eyes drooped from the pleasure coursing through his veins, all of it coming straight from his cock. He curled his fingers into Ryan's hair, keeping him close, and arched into the boy's hand. It felt a million times better than when he jerked off, and though Ryan sometimes gripped too hard, Brendon could only feel his orgasm building up and it wasn't long at all before his hips were jerking as he came, most of it landing on the bed or Ryan's hand. He moaned loudly as Ryan milked him to the end and then let himself roll onto his back, panting harshly, and pulling Ryan with him. "Oh, my God," he said, dazed. "How am I going to sleep on this bed?" he chuckled and shook his head, didn't know why the hell he was saying something like that at a time like this. The bed had a small wet spot, of course, but he was sure that he could handle it until the laundry was done. "We should do that more often," he mumbled and closed his eyes, concentrating on getting his breathing under control.

Ryan hummed in agreement, releasing Brendon and lying down with his head on the younger boy's shoulder. "And don't pretend you've never come on this bed before," he muttered, eyes drooping as he laced his legs with Brendon's, ignoring the uncomfortable stiffening of his boxers as his own come dried in them. They were already ruined, not much to do about it. He was too tired to care at the moment. He reached out a hand and caught Brendon's, lacing their fingers together distractedly. Honestly, he'd never taken himself for a cuddler, but at least it didn't seem like things were on the verge of becoming awkward the way they almost had last time. He placed another small kiss on Brendon's neck before closing his eyes, too tired and lax to fight the impending fading of the world around him. The report he had to write that evening was the farthest thing from his mind.

Brendon sighed softly and nuzzled Ryan's hair. He brought up their joined hands and kissed Ryan's knuckles, smiling softly to himself, his eyes still closed. After a few silent minutes, though, he spoke. "My dick is getting cold..." he mumbled, reaching down a lazy hand to tuck himself back into his boxers and pants. It took him a few seconds and he fumbled quite a few times, but he finally got it. Zipping up his pants, though, required too much and he decided against it. "And for your information, I have only jerked off in the shower since I've come to this school," he scrunched up his nose in disgust. "It's really gross to think about Zach hearing me," he explained. "Thank the heavens we were too occupied to even think about him..." he trailed off and shuddered. Pulling Ryan closer, he burrowed into the blankets underneath him and smiled. "I'll miss you next week," he muttered softly, inwardly rolling his eyes at himself.

"Miss you too," Ryan muttered automatically, half asleep, digging his face a bit further into Brendon's shoulder, too tired to even think about responding to any of the other things the other boy had said. He gave a slight yawn, scrunching up his nose habitually, and then he gave into sleep, nodding off with nothing more than another small yawn.