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So, I wrote another bandslash fic. Panic! At The Disco this time. Again, this one started life as a comment!fic. Actually, I wrote the entire thing in a comment box. Strangely it did not consent to fit in a single comment when I was done with it. Oops. Also, I apologize for the crappy title. I suck at titling, but I figured it should have one.
Title: Better Off As Lovers
Author:![[livejournal.com profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/external/lj-userinfo.gif)
kaciagemini
Pairing: Spencer/Ryan
Rating: R
Wordcount: 1750
Summary: Practice gets interesting.
Notes: I wrote this forseanarenay several days ago because she was not feeling well and underage boysex fixes everything (duh!). Has not been beta read, though I did fix a few things before I posted it here. Please point out any problems I missed! I had to beat an entire section back into the right tense! (Alternatively, if anyone would like to offer to be my beta? That would be pretty awesome.)
Ryan didn't mean to notice Spencer. Of course, he's noticed Spencer before. Has been noticing him for most of his life really. It's hard not to notice him. He's always there, right beside Ryan, helping him think of incredibly bad plans and then helping him follow through with them even though he knows just how dumb they are. And when they got into trouble as kids, he never tried to make Ryan take the blame alone, even when it really, really was all Ryan's idea. Ryan has always loved him for that.
So yeah, he's noticed Spencer. But he hadn't noticed him. Not like this.
They were jamming alone today, and a single guitar and a set of drums is really nothing like a band at all, even a kind of shitty one like The Summer League. Especially when Ryan's not even singing. Just concentrating on the chord progressions, desperately trying not to fuck them up like he still does sometimes, even though they've been playing this stupid cover together since approximately the beginning of time.
So there's really no reason for Spencer to be throwing his everything into drumming. Except that it's just what he does.
Ryan looks over at Spencer. And notices. Notices the way Spencer is nearly dripping with sweat purely from the effort because it's not even that hot in here. Notices that he's playing with eyes closed for a second like he can concentrate more that way. Doesn't he need to see?, Ryan thinks. Maybe he's communing with his drums in some way that Ryan will just never get. Spencer's normally pleasant, rounded face is set in a fierce expression of concentration, mouth a hard line. The full, soft-looking lips are hardly even visible. And apparently Ryan has noticed Spencer before. Maybe without even realizing he was doing it. Because those lips had certainly never been on his agenda before. But now they definitely are.
A drop of sweat slid down from Spencer's hairline. Across his cheek. Caught on the corner of his mouth. Spencer's tongue flicked out to lick it away, just a brief flash of pink. Ryan noticed. And he promptly missed a note. Didn't hit the wrong one, just... forgot to play for a second.
Spencer noticed the flub and looked up. Ryan only realized because Spencer's mouth moved, breaking his focus. The eyes were now open. And staring at Ryan. Ryan missed all the notes after that. Spencer gave him a puzzled look and stopped drumming. There was no slowing down or tapering off. One second he was playing with every ounce of his being and the next second he was still, drumsticks resting easily in his hands.
"What?"
"I..." I want to lick you. When did you get so fucking cute? Do you concentrate as hard when you're jerking off as you do when you're drumming? "I... need some water." It was the first excuse Ryan could think of in order to flee the room. He was pretty sure he had never been more embarrassed in his life than he was right now. What the hell was wrong with him? Spencer could probably read every thought in Ryan's brain. After all, that was usually the case.
The annoyed, "What the hell?", he caught as he fled into the kitchen seemed to indicate otherwise.
Ryan snatched a bottle of water out of the fridge then leaned his head against the cool door. Maybe it could cool his thoughts, calm him down enough that he could walk back into the other room without embarrassing himself. Any more than he had already. And shit, he was so fucking hard and he hadn't even realized it. Had Spencer noticed? Fuck!
Ryan pressed the cold bottle against his fucking stupid hard cock through his jeans. The only thing it accomplished was leaving a large damp spot. Brilliant move, Ross. Now there was no way Spencer wouldn't see. Shit.
"What is wrong with you today, Ryan?"
Double shit. Spencer was just standing in the doorway, staring at him. He was pretty hot when he was pissed. Damn it.
"Apparently I'm regressing into adolescence." He glared down at his groin. If his dick had eyes, he was pretty sure it would have glared back.
Fuck, I really just said that, didn't I? Way to keep the inappropriate sexual thoughts out of the conversation, Ross. Great job.
"Okay," Spencer said slowly, drawing the word into far more syllables than necessary. "Well, if you're not going to drink that water, can I have it? Or, like, move so I can get to the fridge?"
Ryan handed over the unopened bottle wordlessly and tried not to stare too obviously as Spencer tilted his head back to gulp down half of it in one go. The way Spencer's neck looked as he swallowed convulsively should not be turning Ryan on this much. Ryan needed to get a fucking grip already, but he couldn't make his thoughts come under his control much less his anatomy. Hormones were a fucking bitch.
Ryan stared at the wall somewhere to the left of Spencer's head and tried very hard to kill his erection by thinking about dissecting things in science class. He was pretty disgusted with himself when it failed to work.
He tried to grab another not-really-staring look at Spencer's neck, but it was no longer on display. He'd had enough water, it seemed. Now his head was tilted slightly down because... he was staring at Ryan's crotch. Seriously staring. Ryan couldn't really decipher the expression on his face. Nothing he'd ever seen before, for sure.
"Spence?"
"Hmm?" Spencer didn't look up.
"Are you holding on a meaningful conversation with my dick?"
"Not yet." And then he did look up.
"I..."
"We're going to my room. Right now." Spencer grabbed Ryan's wrist as he made this declaration and started dragging him toward the stairs. Ryan didn't protest.
They tumbled through the doorway, tripping over each other's feet in eagerness. Spencer banged the door shut and clicked the cheap lock on the doorknob. There probably wasn't much danger of getting caught anyway, since Spencer's family generally made themselves scarce when he was practicing.
Ryan was shoved onto the bed, across it, nearly off the other side. And then he was covered in Spencer. Warm, squirming, hard Spencer. He was almost too heavy to be comfortable, but there was no way his cock would let him complain.
When their mouths finally came together, the first kiss was like a dare. As hard and fast and wet as possible, just to prove you could. Spencer's tongue didn't just brush against his, it fought with it, back and forth between their mouths. They kissed so hard Ryan forgot there was a way to breathe when you were kissing. Maybe there wasn't with Spencer. Maybe it was only with other people that he had enough brain cells for taking in oxygen and kissing. He pulled back, gasping for air, pleased that Spencer was breathing almost as hard.
As soon as he was pretty sure he would live, Ryan pressed his mouth to Spencer's again, tongue pushing forward almost before their lips touched.
Spencer's hips were thrusting against his in a way that was almost perfect. Ryan's cock was none-too-subtly letting him know that if he were to move just a little bit to the left and thrust back, it would be exactly perfect. So he did. And fuck, he was pretty sure he was in love with Spencer's hipbone. Well, and his mouth. And his neck. But, fuck, hipbone shoved against his cock felt way better than it had any right to. Spencer's groan seemed to indicate agreement.
"Ryan. Ryan!"
Why was Spencer not kissing him anymore?
"Ryan. Pants. Off."
Oh. Excellent plan. And the way it was gasped out certainly didn't hurt.
It only took him a moment to get Spencer's jeans unbuttoned, unzipped and shoved halfway down his thighs. Obligingly, Spencer pushed and shoved until he could kick them off completely. His sneakers made a dull thud sound as they hit the carpet tangled in clothing that Ryan thought might be the hottest thing ever. Then Spencer started undoing his pants. Never mind, no contest there.
He quickly shoved Spencer off so he could wriggle out of his clothes, fighting for a moment with a shoe that objected to being kicked off haphazardly. He muttered a quick curse once he won and pressed himself on top of Spencer. Cocks and hipbones apparently fit together pretty damn well this way around, too.
"Spencer, Spencer," he couldn't help but gasp. Their thrusts were matching up perfectly. Fuck. There is no way that rubbing your cock up against somebody should be quite so pleasurable. It's not even real sex. Real sex. His mind shorted out at the thought.
The string of curses he mumbled into Spencer's neck as he came was impressively colorful. And then he bit down, just to see what Spencer tasted like. Spencer ground up harder against Ryan's hip and gasped out a few curses of his own when he came right after.
For a few minutes, neither of them could do anything but lay there, gasping for air. Sex was fucking hard work. How had Ryan not realized that?
Ryan managed, with gargantuan effort, to lift his head and look at Spencer. "Spence?"
"Yeah?" His voice was still breathy, which shouldn't be so explosively hot considering Ryan just got off. It was anyway.
"Can we do this every day?" He threw it out casually, not even really thinking about what it might mean until after he'd said it. Words like relationship and boyfriend and gay. All he was thinking was that this was the best thing he'd ever felt and he'd really like to do it again. But what if that freaked Spencer out?
"Yes," Spencer replied succinctly.
"Really?
"Really."
"You are awesome," Ryan declared, "I fucking love you."
Spencer just grinned and said, "I noticed."
Title: Better Off As Lovers
Author:
kaciageminiPairing: Spencer/Ryan
Rating: R
Wordcount: 1750
Summary: Practice gets interesting.
Notes: I wrote this for
seanarenay several days ago because she was not feeling well and underage boysex fixes everything (duh!). Has not been beta read, though I did fix a few things before I posted it here. Please point out any problems I missed! I had to beat an entire section back into the right tense! (Alternatively, if anyone would like to offer to be my beta? That would be pretty awesome.)Ryan didn't mean to notice Spencer. Of course, he's noticed Spencer before. Has been noticing him for most of his life really. It's hard not to notice him. He's always there, right beside Ryan, helping him think of incredibly bad plans and then helping him follow through with them even though he knows just how dumb they are. And when they got into trouble as kids, he never tried to make Ryan take the blame alone, even when it really, really was all Ryan's idea. Ryan has always loved him for that.
So yeah, he's noticed Spencer. But he hadn't noticed him. Not like this.
They were jamming alone today, and a single guitar and a set of drums is really nothing like a band at all, even a kind of shitty one like The Summer League. Especially when Ryan's not even singing. Just concentrating on the chord progressions, desperately trying not to fuck them up like he still does sometimes, even though they've been playing this stupid cover together since approximately the beginning of time.
So there's really no reason for Spencer to be throwing his everything into drumming. Except that it's just what he does.
Ryan looks over at Spencer. And notices. Notices the way Spencer is nearly dripping with sweat purely from the effort because it's not even that hot in here. Notices that he's playing with eyes closed for a second like he can concentrate more that way. Doesn't he need to see?, Ryan thinks. Maybe he's communing with his drums in some way that Ryan will just never get. Spencer's normally pleasant, rounded face is set in a fierce expression of concentration, mouth a hard line. The full, soft-looking lips are hardly even visible. And apparently Ryan has noticed Spencer before. Maybe without even realizing he was doing it. Because those lips had certainly never been on his agenda before. But now they definitely are.
A drop of sweat slid down from Spencer's hairline. Across his cheek. Caught on the corner of his mouth. Spencer's tongue flicked out to lick it away, just a brief flash of pink. Ryan noticed. And he promptly missed a note. Didn't hit the wrong one, just... forgot to play for a second.
Spencer noticed the flub and looked up. Ryan only realized because Spencer's mouth moved, breaking his focus. The eyes were now open. And staring at Ryan. Ryan missed all the notes after that. Spencer gave him a puzzled look and stopped drumming. There was no slowing down or tapering off. One second he was playing with every ounce of his being and the next second he was still, drumsticks resting easily in his hands.
"What?"
"I..." I want to lick you. When did you get so fucking cute? Do you concentrate as hard when you're jerking off as you do when you're drumming? "I... need some water." It was the first excuse Ryan could think of in order to flee the room. He was pretty sure he had never been more embarrassed in his life than he was right now. What the hell was wrong with him? Spencer could probably read every thought in Ryan's brain. After all, that was usually the case.
The annoyed, "What the hell?", he caught as he fled into the kitchen seemed to indicate otherwise.
Ryan snatched a bottle of water out of the fridge then leaned his head against the cool door. Maybe it could cool his thoughts, calm him down enough that he could walk back into the other room without embarrassing himself. Any more than he had already. And shit, he was so fucking hard and he hadn't even realized it. Had Spencer noticed? Fuck!
Ryan pressed the cold bottle against his fucking stupid hard cock through his jeans. The only thing it accomplished was leaving a large damp spot. Brilliant move, Ross. Now there was no way Spencer wouldn't see. Shit.
"What is wrong with you today, Ryan?"
Double shit. Spencer was just standing in the doorway, staring at him. He was pretty hot when he was pissed. Damn it.
"Apparently I'm regressing into adolescence." He glared down at his groin. If his dick had eyes, he was pretty sure it would have glared back.
Fuck, I really just said that, didn't I? Way to keep the inappropriate sexual thoughts out of the conversation, Ross. Great job.
"Okay," Spencer said slowly, drawing the word into far more syllables than necessary. "Well, if you're not going to drink that water, can I have it? Or, like, move so I can get to the fridge?"
Ryan handed over the unopened bottle wordlessly and tried not to stare too obviously as Spencer tilted his head back to gulp down half of it in one go. The way Spencer's neck looked as he swallowed convulsively should not be turning Ryan on this much. Ryan needed to get a fucking grip already, but he couldn't make his thoughts come under his control much less his anatomy. Hormones were a fucking bitch.
Ryan stared at the wall somewhere to the left of Spencer's head and tried very hard to kill his erection by thinking about dissecting things in science class. He was pretty disgusted with himself when it failed to work.
He tried to grab another not-really-staring look at Spencer's neck, but it was no longer on display. He'd had enough water, it seemed. Now his head was tilted slightly down because... he was staring at Ryan's crotch. Seriously staring. Ryan couldn't really decipher the expression on his face. Nothing he'd ever seen before, for sure.
"Spence?"
"Hmm?" Spencer didn't look up.
"Are you holding on a meaningful conversation with my dick?"
"Not yet." And then he did look up.
"I..."
"We're going to my room. Right now." Spencer grabbed Ryan's wrist as he made this declaration and started dragging him toward the stairs. Ryan didn't protest.
They tumbled through the doorway, tripping over each other's feet in eagerness. Spencer banged the door shut and clicked the cheap lock on the doorknob. There probably wasn't much danger of getting caught anyway, since Spencer's family generally made themselves scarce when he was practicing.
Ryan was shoved onto the bed, across it, nearly off the other side. And then he was covered in Spencer. Warm, squirming, hard Spencer. He was almost too heavy to be comfortable, but there was no way his cock would let him complain.
When their mouths finally came together, the first kiss was like a dare. As hard and fast and wet as possible, just to prove you could. Spencer's tongue didn't just brush against his, it fought with it, back and forth between their mouths. They kissed so hard Ryan forgot there was a way to breathe when you were kissing. Maybe there wasn't with Spencer. Maybe it was only with other people that he had enough brain cells for taking in oxygen and kissing. He pulled back, gasping for air, pleased that Spencer was breathing almost as hard.
As soon as he was pretty sure he would live, Ryan pressed his mouth to Spencer's again, tongue pushing forward almost before their lips touched.
Spencer's hips were thrusting against his in a way that was almost perfect. Ryan's cock was none-too-subtly letting him know that if he were to move just a little bit to the left and thrust back, it would be exactly perfect. So he did. And fuck, he was pretty sure he was in love with Spencer's hipbone. Well, and his mouth. And his neck. But, fuck, hipbone shoved against his cock felt way better than it had any right to. Spencer's groan seemed to indicate agreement.
"Ryan. Ryan!"
Why was Spencer not kissing him anymore?
"Ryan. Pants. Off."
Oh. Excellent plan. And the way it was gasped out certainly didn't hurt.
It only took him a moment to get Spencer's jeans unbuttoned, unzipped and shoved halfway down his thighs. Obligingly, Spencer pushed and shoved until he could kick them off completely. His sneakers made a dull thud sound as they hit the carpet tangled in clothing that Ryan thought might be the hottest thing ever. Then Spencer started undoing his pants. Never mind, no contest there.
He quickly shoved Spencer off so he could wriggle out of his clothes, fighting for a moment with a shoe that objected to being kicked off haphazardly. He muttered a quick curse once he won and pressed himself on top of Spencer. Cocks and hipbones apparently fit together pretty damn well this way around, too.
"Spencer, Spencer," he couldn't help but gasp. Their thrusts were matching up perfectly. Fuck. There is no way that rubbing your cock up against somebody should be quite so pleasurable. It's not even real sex. Real sex. His mind shorted out at the thought.
The string of curses he mumbled into Spencer's neck as he came was impressively colorful. And then he bit down, just to see what Spencer tasted like. Spencer ground up harder against Ryan's hip and gasped out a few curses of his own when he came right after.
For a few minutes, neither of them could do anything but lay there, gasping for air. Sex was fucking hard work. How had Ryan not realized that?
Ryan managed, with gargantuan effort, to lift his head and look at Spencer. "Spence?"
"Yeah?" His voice was still breathy, which shouldn't be so explosively hot considering Ryan just got off. It was anyway.
"Can we do this every day?" He threw it out casually, not even really thinking about what it might mean until after he'd said it. Words like relationship and boyfriend and gay. All he was thinking was that this was the best thing he'd ever felt and he'd really like to do it again. But what if that freaked Spencer out?
"Yes," Spencer replied succinctly.
"Really?
"Really."
"You are awesome," Ryan declared, "I fucking love you."
Spencer just grinned and said, "I noticed."
