Lust.

Very strong sexual desire.

Artist: @Rainbowlobster_ on Instagram.

Plot: Ryan wants Brendon. Always has, always will. So one night, with the help of weed and dirty talk, he seduces his (former) best friend.

Warnings: Lots of sex. Obviously. If you don't like descriptive sex scenes, don't read!

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Brendon Urie.

The name alone is enough to make millions of doe-eyed fangirls come in their low-rise jeans. The name is enough to make RYAN come in his low-rise jeans.

God, Ryan wants to touch him, wants to utterly ruin the innocent, yet oh-so-sexy perfection that makes Brendon unique. He fantasizes about his best friend (and bandmate) constantly, which probably isn't healthy.

Ryan wants to make the day that Brendon came out of the closet to the rest of them a national holiday, because it gives him a tiny, tiny little sliver of hope. Hope that maybe, one day, Brendon will want him.

***

So. So, Ryan isn't a weird creepy stalker guy. It really isn't his fault that he just saw Brendon Urie pleasuring himself. Ryan was in the hallway of the hotel room, walking back from Spencer and Jon's room, when he heard a tortured moan. Freezing, he slowly opened the door to the room, eyes widening as he saw Brendon fucking himself.

Most guys, they burrow under blankets and close their eyes, moans stifled.

Then again, Brendon clearly thought he was alone in the room (which he was, apart from Ryan), and he isn't most guys.

He was spread open on the bed, eyes rolling back, his chest heaving dramatically. Ryan could feel himself growing hard, but mentally he was scoffing at Brendon for being so... Brendon. Who moans like a whore during foreplay?

Then Brendon shifted, and Ryan saw the plug. Oh. That'd be why.

Ryan stared in fascination as the others muscles clenched around the plug, clearly not filled. Fucking size queen. Beautiful, slutty size queen. Brendon rocked his ass down against the bed, clearly trying to make the most out of the plug and failing. His hand was working fervently over his cock, and he was letting out these soft little pants that drove Ryan fucking crazy.

Ryan should have left, and he was going to, if it wasn't for the tiny whimper that had came from Brendon's full, parted lips.

"Fuck, Ryan."

He sounded needy, lost in a fantasy. Ryan wanted to fulfill it. He didn't want to make Brendon sound needy, he wanted the boy to sound wrecked, quivering under Ryan's gaze, completely Ryan's. From the sound of it, that wouldn't be hard to achieve.

Ryan had--has-- some planning to do.

***

That next Saturday, Ryan has set his trap. He knows Jon and Brendon are down on the bus, smoking up. Brendon always gets unbelievably horny whilst high. And he'll arrive upstairs, to Ryan, who is shirtless, dressed in a pair of jeans that may or may not belong to Brendon, the fabric cupping his ass perfectly. The rooms lights are dim, the heat is on, and the comforter and pillows are off the bed, leaving only the mattress and sheets. He is ready to seduce Brendon Urie.

He knows that Brendon completely loses himself when he has sex, so he has to be careful. It's partially why Audrey didn't want a relationship, in the end. It's why Ryan, Jon, and Spencer always eye men who are flirting with Brendon balefully, mouthing silent warnings of 'be careful', 'don't get too cocky,' 'leave him be'. Brendon is delicate, gets attached, and yeah, is a total whore. When someone approaches Brendon sexually, tries to take control, he melts, and it's kind of scary. Ryan's seen it happen from afar.

So it makes sense that Ryan should be the one to be with Brendon. He can take care of his best friend in a way that no other boy can, and he doesn't mean to brag, but, well, the lyrics of Lying Is The Most Fun are true. He has a good girth, and plenty of energy and stamina. Brendon won't know what hit him.

Ryan hums under his breath, rubbing Aveda Chakra 4 on his wrists and pressure points. Jac, his previous 'girlfriend' (publicity stunt), used to wear it all the time, and she swore up and down it drove guys crazy. Biting his lip, he stretches, glancing at the lube, condoms, and various other... toys he has laid out. Perfect. Ryan grins wickedly, imagining Brendon's wide-eyed expression.

Ryan is fiddling with the bracelets on his arm, one of which says BRENDON with letter beads, when the doorknob rattles. Ryan looks up as Brendon walks in, humming loudly, eyes glazed and smile goofy. He stands, and Brendon blinks like he didn't notice his best friend. "Ryan! Heyyyy!" He greets, and Ryan doesn't hesitate, just walks over and grabs his wrist, looking him up and down. "I want to fuck you," He says bluntly, and Brendon furrows his eyebrows, blinking. "Wha--" He starts, but Ryan gently pushes him up against the wall, kissing him.

Brendon, as expected, forgets his reasoning and responds eagerly, his hands falling to his sides and body almost going slack, and Ryan adores it. He isn't resisting, but he's also clearly consenting: the tiny nods and pants of "Oh, God, keep going" prove that. Ryan licks over a pulse point just under Brendon's jaw, and the boy whines—whines—like a slut, like a whore, and Ryan responds by grabbing his wrists, kneading the skin, letting the blood flow. Brendon has always been overly sensitive, and right now is no different.

"T-Tell me. Tell me what to do." Brendon whispers as Ryan releases him, and Ryan could come in his pants at those words alone, but he has stamina, goddamnit, he does!

So instead, he tilts his head at Brendon, looking his body up and down. Brendon stares up at him, mouth agape, blinking prettily. A smile curls onto Ryan's lips, and he leans in, mouth near Brendon's ear. He sucks and nibbles on the lobe before speaking. "Get all of your clothes off, and lay on your stomach. After that, you don't have to worry your little head about anything."

He's worried it's too far, but one look at Brendon's face and he knows that this is just what the boy wants, and maybe what he needs. Well, Ryan is more than happy to fulfill those needs.

He watches as Brendon scrambles to get his clothing off, tearing off the faded jeans and too-tight shirt off in a flash. Ryan smirks, crossing his arms. "You dress like a slut, you know." He comments, and Brendon nods, just fucking nods, taking the harsh words and clearly loving every second, based on the grin on his face.

"Y-You wanna know why I dress like this?" He pants, and oh, Ryan does, he really does want to know. "Because I love seeing you get all worked up. When I bend over, when I hug you, when Jon and I race around whatever venue we're at, I see you staring. And I love it." He hisses, and Ryan's breathing is shallow, his mind is glitching out, because holyshitholyshitholyshit, Brendon Urie is a fucking tease, a no good tease, and he knows what he does to Ryan.

"You're using that mouth too much." Ryan growls, leaning forward and kissing Brendon, who squeaks. He gnaws down onto Brendon's lip, sucking before pulling away with a wet popping noise. Brendon seems overwhelmed, and isn't so cocky anymore: he's watching Ryan with huge eyes, looking overwhelmed and completely submissive.

"Lay on your stomach, pretty." He murmurs, carding through Brendon's hair. His boy instantly obliges, limbs sprawled out and body utterly limp. His eyes are open, staring straight through Ryan, and it's unnerving. He brushes a finger across Brendon's cheekbone, murmuring 'close them' in a demanding tone, and the other obliges instantly. How nice that is. Normally, Brendon is stubborn as fuck, demanding attention and questioning every decision. This Brendon is meek, eager to please, and absolutely obedient. Not to mention, laid out on the bed, completely naked. Ryan scans over his body, breathless. Sure, he's gotten glimpses of bare skin and seen Brendon while changing or taking turns in the shower, but this... Brendon, laid out in front of him, completely vulnerable?

Absolute perfection.

Brendon shudders, letting out a soft whimper, and Ryan realizes he said that part out loud. Oh well. It's true, and Brendon deserves to hear it, deserves those words on a fucking silver platter, because they are true, so true. Brendon Urie is absolute perfection right now, he will be when Ryan fucks him, and he will be afterwards. He will always be utter perfection, in Ryan's eyes, because despite Ryan's carnal urges, he really does love him.

Slowly, Ryan settles onto the bed. Brendon is in the middle, and Ryan kneads into the flesh of his ass, eyes reverent as he does so. Brendon has an ass that was made to be fucked, to be grabbed, to be bruised, and Ryan loves it. "Mine." He whispers huskily, without thinking, because oh, Lord, he wants Brendon to be all his. But it's a total surprise when Brendon keens (fucking keens) at the word. "Yours." He whispers, quivering, and Ryan blinks, lips parting. He doesn't know if it's a farce, said in the heat of the moment, or if Brendon truly means what he's saying, but Ryan doesn't have time to ponder it, not when Brendon is laying here, so needy and open, eyes still closed.

"Good boy," Ryan whispers, causing another little whimper to leave Brendon's mouth, "Now, lift your ass up for me." He continues, and Brendon lifts his entire body, arms trembling. Ryan makes a tiny noise of exasperation, pushing his upper body down, which lands with a tiny thump. "Just your ass." He reprimands, and Brendon apologizes softly, voice muffled. 

Slowly, Ryan leans forward, spreading Brendon's cheeks and pressing a delicate kiss to his hole. His boy writhes and lets out a small gasp, and Ryan smiles darkly, giving a soothing hush. "Plenty of time for you to make noise later, sweetheart."

Brendon apparently is a fan of pet names, seeing as how he lets out a soft squeal at that one. Ryan stores that information away for later as he buries his face in Brendon's ass, tongue probing forward, licking into him. It's hot and tight, and he isn't particularly a fan of the earthy taste, but it's Brendon, and that makes every second worth it. Ryan intends to lavish the boy with attention, make him feel so good he forgets his own name. Ryan wants to be the best fuck of Brendon's life, and he is making damn sure that Brendon feels nothing short of worshipped.

He twists his tongue experimentally, and Brendon squeaks, bucking up into Ryan's face. Ryan responds by licking in farther, dragging his tongue in slow, deliberate motions, every moan and whimper from Brendon an achievement, because HE did that.

"Oh, fuck, Ryan." Brendon moans, rutting his hips against the mattress in a feeble, slutty attempt to get himself off. Ryan makes a disapproving noise, slowly pulling his tongue out with a dirty popping noise. "No, no. No getting off until I say so, baby."

Brendon whines, and Ryan simply flips Brendon onto his back, staring down at the boy. "Why end when the fun hasn't even begun?"

"Oh, God." He whispers, and Ryan smirks, pressing a wet, open mouthed kiss to Brendon's lower stomach. He watches as the muscles quiver, Brendon's eyes half lidded. He's under Ryan's spell now, and Ryan loves it. He'll make sure to protect Brendon, but he can't promise to be good.

What's about to go down? It's going to be positively sinful.

"Please." Brendon whimpers as Ryan trails his tongue down his pale thighs, which have parted, not hiding anything. Brendon is fully erect, squirming and letting out soft moans, his eyelids fluttering. "Please, Ry, please. Fuck me, use me, fuckfuckfuck--" He breathes as Ryan's tongue returns to his hole. "God, I don't need to be prepped , you don't need fingers, nothing, just fuck me."

Well, he can't argue with that logic. So Ryan grabs a bottle of lube and a condom, fumbling with the wrapper. He moans as he rolls it onto himself: he's pretty fucking hard, too, and any amount of friction feels like pure bliss. "Stop teasing." Brendon squeaks impatiently, his hips bucking wantonly up into the air.

"So needy." Ryan says softly, drizzling lube all over Brendon's ass and crack, as well as his cock, gently slicking everything up. "Are you just a little toy, Brendon?" He coos, and Brendon nods quickly, eyes heavily lidded. "Yes. Yes, Ryan, just--" He pants, whining as Ryan slides inside him, his back arching.

They quickly set up a rhythm, Ryan thrusting forward deeply, gripping Brendon's hips in a way that's sure to leave marks. Brendon grunts every time Ryan thrusts in, and even though it isn't a keening whine or a slutty moan, Ryan still is incredibly aroused by the noises: they're instinctual. "Fuck, you're so tight." Ryan groans, angling his hips every which way, determined to find Brendon's prostate. He'll be damned if this doesn't feel good for his boy.

"Oh-Oh, fuck, fuck yes, right there Ryan, right there, right there..." Brendon babbles, letting out another one of those grunting noises and shuddering.

"Do you want me to touch you?" He demands, and Brendon gulps, nodding eagerly. "Yes. Please, get me off." He whimpers. Ryan grins at the sight of his lead singer moaning like a whore, wrapping his hand around Brendon's flushed cock and beginning to stroke in time with his thrusts. "I'm gonna make your toes curl, Brendon Urie." Ryan promises, and Brendon moans weakly in agreement.

They continue for a few minutes, Ryan occasionally slowing down, only to speed up again, determined to make it last. He wants this orgasm to be fucking spectacular, wants Brendon to have the most pleasurable night of his life. But then Brendon begins to writhe against the bed. "Ry. I'm gonna..." He slurs, and Ryan picks up the pace. Brendon lets out a catlike yowl when he comes, and Ryan just fucks into the boy as he orgasms, and continuing after as well. When he comes, his vision fades from red to black all the way to white, and he groans loudly, eyes rolling back into his skull.

The comedown is uneventful. They're both sated, tired, and maybe still a bit disbelieving. Ryan simply pulls out, awkwardly strokes Brendon's hair, and just like that, they're asleep.