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“Hey, baby. I, uh. I gotta work late tonight. Don't wait up for me,” Brendon said into the phone as his free hand drummed a beat onto the steering wheel.

“Oh. Okay.” A pause. “I wish you never took this job. You're never home anymore.” He could hear the sobs escaping her throat, which almost made him feel sorry for her. Almost.

“I don't hear you complaining about my job when I hand over the credit card. So you can buy all that fancy shit you're wearing.”

Silence greeted him from the other line.

“That's what I thought. I'll see you in the morning.” Brendon shut his phone before shoving it back into the pocket of his gray suit pants, his 'work clothes'. He knew that she knew. He knew that she knew what 'working late meant' and that was fine with him. It just meant less energy spent into lying and reassuring and less time spent at home, pretending that their marriage was more than just a favor. And that was fine. Just fine.

Brendon shoved his key into the ignition, turning the car on to hear the low rumble come from the engine in response.

xxx

The Las Vegas strip was filled with two kinds of people; Tourists and horny men. Brendon liked to think he was neither – thinking rather highly of himself with a reputation he's proud to have. The reputation of a highly respected man, working at one of the most prestigious law firms in the state of Nevada. And that's a title he'd like to keep, which he won't be able to accomplish if someone sees him and busts him.

Once Brendon spotted the location he sought after, he parked the car in an alley, not wanting to risk his car being seen by the people he'd like to call his stalkers (his co-workers). Last thing he needed was for one of those fuckers to catch him.

The joint he went to was a little more upscale than most, but it still had that typical sleazy look to it, name lit up in neon lights and pictures of girls making what was supposed to look like seductive poses but looked more like they were saying pay me and I'll fuck you.

Brendon swung the door open, his face being greeted with the usual smoke n' alcohol combo that made him wrinkle up his nose for a minute before he adjusted to the intrusion. The same gentlemen and a few newcomers sat in booths along the side, though most preferred a front row seat, where Brendon was accustomed to sitting.

At first, when he started coming here to waste time, it was just once every two weeks. Which became once a week, which turned into twice a week, which eventually became every single fucking day. Every day he was in there, throwing money at girl's feet and occasionally tucking some neatly into bras and panties while sipping martinis (his favorite drink of choice) to get himself wrecked enough that he has to call for a cab just to get his ass home, so he can fall on his bed -- clothes and all -- before he crashes.

The girl that stood before him had to at least be 5'9”, and probably only weighing 120 (around the average for the girls here). She had on nothing but what looked like a small piece of lavender fabric with a string attached, her bra already discarded on the lit up, disco-like floor. Her body moved against the pole shamelessly (hell, Brendon didn't even think any of the girls knew what shame was), her eyes locked on his like he was the only thing that mattered. They were trained to do that. Brendon knew they were because he had fell for that look too many damn times before, which caused him to throw out more money that he normally did, making a noticeable difference in the monthly income. Of course, Sarah never said anything when he told her that he lost some money those months. She never said anything anymore.

Unimpressed, he sat back farther in his chair, taking a sip from his glass before sitting it back down on the table. This seemed to surprise the girl, her movements stopping abruptly before she gained back her composure. She just shook her head and smiled seductively as she just stepped away from the pole, walking to the edge of the stage and bent down slowly, her breasts hanging dangerously close to his face. Brendon felt them briefly before tucking a twenty in her panties, shooing her off with a wave of his hand. Offended, she turned on her heel and walked swiftly to the other side of the stage where horny, more grateful men sat, their eyes glued to her body as she swiveled her hips in a circular motion.

Brendon finished his martini before setting his glass down and lifting himself from the seat. He was actually quite proud of himself. Proud that he left with only minus twenty dollars, eighty dollars less than his usual spending.

xxx

Before heading to his car, he decided to stop by to get a bite to eat at a place down the street after he heard a familiar rumble come from his stomach.

The walk there was cold for October, wind blowing sharp against Brendon's face and whipping his hair back from his forehead. He shoved his hands farther down into this pockets, trying to keep them warm the best he could.

A bright sign flickered in the corner of his eye, causing him to stop in his tracks. He turned slowly, and facing him was another strip joint. But it wasn't like the one he just came from or like most of the other ones that littered the strip. This one was known for the muscular men clad in only tight Speedo-type underwear sliding around poles just like the women.

The place wasn't nearly as nice as the one he was used to either. The sign was flickering, some of the lights burnt out. And it was small too, no bigger than half the size of the other. And the inside... wait, how the fuck did he end up inside the dark lit room, only the stage illuminating the space and men parading on the stage, shaking their ass for the tens and twenties

The layout was similar to the other club, only half the size and twice as run down. And just like the Las Vegas strip, there were two kinds of people in there; the true gay guys and the creeps. The creeps were easy to spot – hands folded in front of them, brims of hats tugged in front of their eyes. Just looking at them sent a cool shiver down Brendon's back as he quickly adverted his eyes and focused on the other things in the room. His eyes finally settled on a group of guys, laughing and whistling at someone above them and when Brendon saw who it was--

Oh.

Above them was about the most fucking gorgeous creature Brendon had ever seen, standing about 5'10” and not weighing more than 140 pounds. His skin was fair, stretching taunt over his shoulder blades and protruding hip bones. On his rail thin body, he wore a crimson, lacy bra that stretched over his torso but bagged where he was lacking a chest to fill the cups. And for bottoms, he had matching lace panties, pulled tightly over his ass, and oh god, his dick, that showed through the sheerness of them

Wait. No, Brendon is not thinking about his dick. Just observing is all...

His eyes snapped up to the boy's and that's when Brendon had to sit down before his knees fucking buckled underneath him and send him sprawling on the floor. His eyes – slightly hidden by locks of mousy brown hair -- were an amazing rich honey, warm and golden like summer in Las Vegas, with a tint of chocolaty brown that Brendon just wanted to fucking melt into.

Brendon thought, no, he knew that this boy, this boy that he just met two minutes ago, was perfect.

The men next to them suddenly moved away, walking over to the bar for more drinks. And that, right there, was Brendon's cue to stroll over to the mystery boy, taking a seat right in front of him and flashing him that famous Brendon Urie smile that seemed to get whatever he wanted. The boy looked down at him, arms crossed over his stomach before saying, “Sorry, my shift is over. Come back in thirty minutes if you really want to see me.”

Before the boy could walk away, Brendon grabbed his hand with, fuck, the most beautiful looking fingers, if there was such a thing. They were long, almost too long but still not, and thin; very, very thin. They were perfect, just like the rest of him. Brendon quickly looked back up, loosening his hold on the boy's wrist. “Please, I. I, uh. I could pay you a- a lot. Just, please. I wanna see what you can do,” he stuttered before adding, “I'm Brendon, by the way.”

The boy slowly nodded, still letting him hold onto his wrist. “I know. You're that attorney guy, right?” Brendon's eyes widened and the boy laughed, finally sliding away from his touch. “Relax, I won't turn you in or anything. As long as you pay me. And, I'm Ryan.”

Ryan (now known as the name of a god) made his way to the pole then wrapped his spidery fingers around the metal, walking around it slowly while shimmying his hips to the bad techno music blaring from the speakers. The dance was awkward, his limbs too long for the movements he was making. But Brendon was intrigued (that's one word for it, anyway) by Ryan, watching the way he bit his lip every time he caught his gaze, how his fingers looked curled around the pole, thinking about what else Ryan's fingers would be great wrapped around...

Brendon shuttered at the thought, almost coming in his pants immediately like a thirteen-year-old boy. But he gained his composure when Ryan sat down on the stage, swinging his legs over the edge. “So... what did you think? Worth the money?”

He nodded slowly, reaching in his pocket and pulling out two fifty dollar bills and placing them in Ryan's hand. It was more than he normally paid one person, but it was worth it, it was for Ryan. He just stared at the money in his hand, eyes blown twice the normal size, lips slightly parted. “I... I can't accept this. This is too much.”

“No, no. Keep it. I- It was worth the money.” Brendon smiled slightly, reaching out to curl Ryan's hand into a fist, enclosing the money.

Brendon saw a slight pink tinge stain Ryan’s cheeks as he mumbled, “Thanks,” and settled into a seat across from him.

“So, uh, so what got you here? What made you take a job like this?”

Ryan took what looked like a deep breath before responding. “Well, it’s simple. I dropped out of high school when I was seventeen. And I got a little desperate when I couldn’t find a job, so I took this one because it paid the most and they liked me.”

“What did they like about you? If you don’t mind me asking.”

Ryan chuckled, and Brendon couldn’t help but notice his rather large Adam’s apple, bouncing up and down in his throat and oh, god, what it’d be like to run his tongue over it…

Which Brendon was not thinking about. Not at all.

“Well, they liked me for three reasons. One,” he held out his index finger. “They liked my thin frame.” Another digit was extended outward. “Two, I give good head.” Brendon’s breathing stopped momentarily because, fuck, that’s hot, and it made him think about Ryan’s plump lips stretching over his cock…

No. No. What the fuck was wrong with Brendon?

He dismissed the thought when he heard Ryan speak again, only quieter this time. “And three,” One last finger accompanied the other two. “They said that I was, uh. That I was… tight.” Ryan’s cheeks flushed pink again as he avoided my dumbstruck gaze. And when Brendon says dumbstruck, he really means dumbstruck, his mouth slightly agape, drool dangerously close to pouring on the table, eyes blown way past normal size.

After swallowing hard, he closed his hand over Ryan’s, which rested on the table. “Fuck, Ryan… what exactly goes on here?”

Ryan smiled faintly, but it didn’t show in his big, round eyes. “More than you want to know.”

He suddenly went rigid under Brendon’s grasp. “You’re- You’re not gonna tell anyone, are you? Because I need this job, Brendon. I need it.”

Brendon’s smile faltered slightly at the tone in Ryan’s voice, but he squeezed the hand of the panicking boy, relaxing his muscles. “I’ll keep your secret if you keep mine.”

He cleared his throat. “But, fuck man, you can’t keep living like this. Go back to school, move back in with your folks, get-” Brendon stopped when Ryan stood up fro the table quickly, wrenching his hand from his.

“Fuck you. You don’t know anything about me and you’re giving me advice?” Ryan climbed back up the stage, his panties sliding down slightly before he pulled them back up. “If you’re not gonna buy something, quit wasting my time and leave.”

He started to walk away before Brendon yelled, “Wait!” stopping him in his tracks. “How much is, uh. Well, you know.”

“Depends on what you want.” Ryan replied, stepping towards the stage. Brendon shuddered at all the things that came to mind, new, but exciting things that he secretly wanted to try. Things he never admitted to anyone, not even to himself.

“I- I don’t know… Where do we even do this, anyway?” Brendon cursed the fact that he was stuttering. It was odd for him because he literally never got nervous, and it shouldn't be any different, right?

Wrong. This... this is totally different from anything he had ever experienced. That fluttery sensation in the pit of his stomach he felt every time he looked at Ryan, the way his palms were sweating so much that he could barely hold on to the goddamn glass as he took a sip. No, this was new. This was different.

“Well, they either take me to a motel or to the rooms in the back, depending on whether they think I'm worth the money or not.”

“We could go somewhere. I don't mind,” Brendon said. Because you're worth it.

Another blush grazed Ryan's cheeks. Fuck, that's so cute. “Oh. Okay. I'll just go get something to cover up.” Ryan went behind the curtain on stage and returned wearing nothing but a jacket, cinched closed and stopping about mid-thigh. Holy fuck, his thighs.

Brendon and Ryan stepped outside, and when they got to Brendon's car, he popped open the trunk, pulling out a pair of pants. “Here,” Brendon said, handing Ryan the pants. “I can't let you walk around here like... that.”

Ryan nodded, grabbing them and pulling them over his thin legs. Brendon help the passenger side door, letting Ryan slide onto the cool leather seat.

xxx

As they drove, Brendon noticed Ryan smoothing his hands over the pants he was just given repeatedly, as if he were trying to smooth out the wrinkles. Brendon daringly took Ryan's hand again, and luckily, Ryan accepted the contact, lacing his fingers through his.

“Something wrong with the pants?”

Ryan looked up from their intertwined fingers. “No, it's just... it's been so long since I've worn pants.”

“You mean you walk around in lingerie and a coat all the time?”

“No,” he laughed. “You see, I work six days a week. And during the day, I'm usually asleep at home. And the boss prefers it when I go out at night to... you know, make money... that I wear women's clothing. And as for my day off, I'm usually asleep all day, so I don't end up wearing any clothes.”

“Ryan, that's... that's just- fuck, I don't know. It just seems messed up to me.”

Ryan snorted. “Story of my life.”

They road the rest of the way in silence as Brendon drove them out of Las Vegas. He didn’t want to go anywhere he’d possibly be recognized.

“So… not to be nosy or anything, why won’t you go back to school or move back in with your parents?” Brendon said, turning to look at the boy next to him. Ryan looked even more delicate outside, the moon light grazing his cheek bones, accenting them better than what the dully lit club had.

Ryan’s hand stiffened. “Because, I don’t have any,” he said, biting down on his lip.

“What do you mean, you don’t have any?”

“My mom left when I was three, abandoning me with my father. And my father just died recently.”

Brendon felt his heart ache and his stomach churn, feeling sympathy for him. He hated that these kinds of things happened to good people.

Especially Ryan.

“I’m so sorry. I- I can’t imagine losing my parents,” Even if they did shun me, Brendon added to himself. They didn’t need to talk about him and his problems. Not now. This was Ryan’s turn.

Ryan just nodded, shifting slightly to face the window and Brendon knew the conversation was over. So much for Ryan’s turn.

xxx

They arrived at a hotel in the middle of nowhere, rolling into a parking spot closest to the building. Being the gentleman that he is (and that’s the only reason why he’s doing it), he sprinted over to Ryan’s side, opening his door so he could slowly unfold himself out of the car.

“Sorry that we couldn’t go to a better hotel, but I didn’t want anyone to find us out,” Brendon said, putting his hand on the small of Ryan’s back, which happens to be close to his… oh god.

Ryan just shook his head, his eyes the size of the moon hanging above us. “No, this… this is really nice. Compared to what I’m used to.”

Brendon guided Ryan inside, stepping up to the front desk. After getting the room key, they hurriedly (or at least Brendon was in a hurry) got to their room, Brendon fumbling with the key before getting the door in and stepping inside.

The room was nicer than he thought it would be. The walls were just a plain beige with a slight texture on the wall, clashing with the dark carpet on the floor. There was a small bathroom off to the side, that was fairly clean and smelled like the floor cleaner. And finally, there was the bed. The bed was, well, white. Really, really white. The sheets and the pillows were all white, looking soft and good for… oh, God, that.

Ryan stepped toward the bed, sitting down on what looked like a thick comforter. “So, how do you want to do this?”

Brendon scratched the back of his head, not sure of what exactly he wanted to do. He didn’t want to say everything, and fuck, he really did want to do every single thing with this beautiful boy, so he responded. “Is it okay if, uh, we just do it, see how it goes and then total it up at the end?”

“I don’t know…”

“I won’t skip out on you or anything,” Brendon added. “I promise.” He wanted to say more, like, I’d never do that to someone as beautiful as you or how could I do that to someone I…

Was he just about to say… love?

No, of course not. That’d be ridiculous. He has a wife at home. And this is just a one time thing. One time and he'll go on.

Brendon reached into his back pocket, pulling out his wallet before he set it in the palm of Ryan’s hand, forcing his fingers to curl around it. He couldn’t believe that he was going to trust this boy -- essentially a stripper -- with his own wallet, but he did. He did trust Ryan, almost more than he trusted anyone. And he didn’t know why.

“I hope you can trust me like I trust you with my wallet.”

Ryan nodded, the lump in his throat rising and falling as he swallowed. He looked up at me and said one word: “Okay.”

Brendon knelt down on his knees, placing one hand on Ryan’s cheek and the other one on the back of his head as he leaned in and sealed the empty space with a kiss. And god, what a kiss it was. It was all business, no fucking around as tongues were swirled around and lips pressed violently against each other and hands wandered under shirts. They separated momentarily to slip Brendon’s shirt over his head and suddenly roles were reversed, Brendon now laying on his back with Ryan hovering over him, eyes wanting before he leaned down, his lips covering Brendon’s with the sweet and bitter taste of a strawberry margarita that Ryan must’ve had before he came.

Suddenly, Ryan’s lips were no longer present and instead he felt hands tugging at the zip of his pants. He looked down to see Ryan’s head near his crotch, his brow furrowing in frustration when the button wouldn’t come undone.

“Fuck, Brendon, help me with this,” Ryan pleaded.

Brendon numbly reached down, quickly undoing the button before returning to his sides. Ryan’s fingers hooked onto Brendon’s underwear, tugging them down until his cock was released and holy fuck, since when was he hard?

Ryan’s hands were teasing as he put Brendon’s cock in one hand and ran a finger up the length with the other, causing Brendon’s breathing to hitch up in his throat. His hands were soon replaced with lips on the head and a tongue swirling around it, making Brendon choke out one strangled, “Fuck.”

Ryan looked up at him through thick eyelashes briefly before sliding in more of the length into his mouth and holyfuckingshit, how did he learn to do that with his tongue? He cupped Brendon's balls, massaging in that spot that made his toes curls and head fall back in ecstasy, mouth forming a perfect 'o' as a moan came out.

He was acting like he did when he was sixteen and got his first blow job, for Christ's sake, Ryan bringing him close, almost too close to going over the edge.

“Stop,” Brendon choked out, tugging roughly at Ryan's hair that his hands somehow ended up in. He pulled off slowly, dragging his tongue around the underside of Brendon's cock, earning him another appreciative moan. “I'm getting too close.”

Ryan nodded. “Okay, so, do you wanna fuck me with me on the bottom or the top?”

Brendon bit his lip, about to make a decision that he hoped that he wouldn't regret (and at this point, he didn't think he would because, fuck, this boy's amazing). “Actually... I want you... to fuck me. But I want to be on top... if you don't mind.”

“I. Okay. It's just. I- I've never actually fucked anyone before... my customers usually want me on the bottom.”

“Just please do it, okay? I... I trust you.” The word trust was starting to become a big part of Brendon's vocabulary, and an even bigger part in their relationship.

Relationship, what relationship?

“Okay.”

And that's when Ryan scooted down the bed farther, lining his mouth up to his entrance, spreading the cheeks before... oh fuck.

Ryan's tongue darted across the hole, grazing over it in a teasing manor, Brendon already thrusting his hips upward, wanting his tongue deeper inside. And that's exactly what he did, burying his face in deeper and swirling around the rim before sticking his tongue inside and oh god, Brendon swore up and down that Ryan's tongue could do no wrong.

He would've let Ryan do that forever, but then Brendon felt the absence of his mouth and there were suddenly three long fingers in front of his mouth and Ryan sitting on his chest. “Suck,” he said, using his fingers to part Brendon's lips and he accepted them gratefully, sliding his tongue over the warm flesh and coating them with saliva. He released them with a 'pop' and Ryan was soon back down where he was, rubbing his index finger over the crack of Brendon's ass as a warning before pushing it in.

Brendon couldn't lie, it truly hurt like hell, a stinging sensation spreading from the area over to his lower stomach, causing him to wince in pain and pull in a sharp breath.

“You okay?” Ryan asked.

Brendon nodded, trying to keep composure. “Y-yeah."

“'Kay.”

Ryan pushed more of his finger in, going past the knuckle before pulling it back out again and repeating the motion. Brendon felt the pain start to tame down, only to feel it return when Ryan pushed yet another now- cool finger into him, only the burning pain wasn't as bad that time and almost enjoyable. It didn't take long before Brendon was begging for the third finger to push into him.

He did as he was told, sliding in all three fingers as far as they would go, curling his fingers, and-

Oh.

Now this... this was a different feeling. It was a feeling that had Brendon moaning way too loudly, head thrown back against the pillow, hands fisting the bed sheets as Ryan continued to curl and uncurl them, brushing that spot that was a fucking godsend.

Brendon whined in protest when he felt those magical fingers leave his body. Ryan shushed him, crawling up his body to whisper in his ear, “Switch me,” which had Brendon shivering all over as he made it so Ryan was underneath him and he was hovering above him, ghosting a kiss over his lips.

The kiss was soft and sweet, but urgent and desperate at the same time as their tongues swirled patterns into each others mouths. Brendon pulled back, dragging his teeth over Ryan's bottom lip before letting go. He curled his fingers into Ryan's hair, looking down at the soft honey eyes below him.

“Do you have a condom?” Ryan asked.

Fuck. “No... I don't. Do you?”

He shook his head. “I don't either...”

“Do you trust me?”

And there's that word again, trust. Brendon had never truly saw the importance of it until now. Now, it meant everything to him. Because he trusted Ryan; he trusted Ryan with his whole fucking world.

“I trust you. Do you trust me?” Brendon repeated.

Ryan swallowed hard before answering with a shaky, “I... I trust you.”

Brendon nodded, quietly answering, “Good,” before slowly removing Ryan's jacket and tossing it to the floor. In the brighter light, Brendon could now clearly see light bruising on his collar bone and down his sides.

“Who did this to you?” Brendon said finally, after staring for several seconds at the imperfections on a perfect person.

“I... I got into it a couple of days ago with my boss,” Ryan said in a hushed voice. “But I was talking back... I deserved it.”

Brendon's fingers brushed over one of the bruises. “No one deserves this.”

Especially not you.

After removing Ryan's bra, exposing more of his creamy flesh, he kissed each bruise gently as Ryan watched him with wide but lustful eyes.

“You're so beautiful,” Brendon murmured in between kisses.

Ryan found Brendon's hand, squeezing it in response before dropping it when he went further down his body until Brendon's mouth was just centimeters above Ryan's cock... That was still covered by thin lacy fabric.

“These need to come off,” Brendon whispered. He then hooked his fingers underneath the waistband of the panties, pulling them of to reveal...

... The most motherfucking gorgeous thing Brendon had ever seen, hands down.

Right there on Ryan's stomach laid his dick – Ryan's dick – flushed and hard and already leaking and Brendon could barely even contain himself as he put his lips over the head. Ryan let out a soft whine of satisfaction when Brendon slid more past his plump lips, making him moan around his cock at the beautiful noise.

He ran his tongue on the underneath side, getting him another moan from Ryan while he repeated over and over in his head, I'm pleasing Ryan. Ryan.

Brendon nearly fell apart right then and there when Ryan let out a breathy, “Please, Brendon, please, I wanna fuck you.”

Brendon put a knee on either side of him and let Ryan guide him down until his cock was in line with his entrance before sinking down.

The pain was intense, a searing pain shooting into his lower abdomen, making him wince and pause half way down.

“Are you okay?”

Brendon nodded, biting his lip to keep from yelling out. “Yeah. Just go slow, okay?”

With a nod, Ryan planted his hands firmly on Brendon's hips – Brendon's splayed across his chest – pulling him down the rest of the way.

After several seconds, Brendon finally picked himself up before sinking down once again. The pain because less and less noticeable and actually pleasurable between Ryan's careful thrusts and hot, throaty moans in his ear.

“Oh, god,” Brendon spluttered, his breathing becoming shallow and irregular when Ryan started to hit that spot, that fucking wonderful toe curling spot that Ryan had found when he was using his fingers.

“Mmm, that feel good, Brendon? Do you like that?” Ryan grunted into his ear, thrusting roughly into Brendon.

But, holy fuck, Ryan was dirty talking now, his breath hot on his neck. Brendon wasn't sure if he could take it, but Hell would have to freeze over before he'd ever object.

“Yes, fuck, right there,” Brendon moaned.

“Ah, fuck, Brendon, your ass is so fucking tight,” he breathed, making Brendon moan again, only louder because now Ryan's hand was wrapped around his fucking cock and jerking short, rough strokes over it in time with his thrusts.

Brendon tried to warn him, but it was too much, Ryan was too much, and he came all over Ryan's hand and stomach, leaving white stripes of warm goo. And it wasn't much longer before Ryan was coming too, coming inside him with a breathless moan and a spasm of the hips.

He pulled off of Ryan, collapsing beside him as he tried to catch his breath. And after a few minutes of panting and sharing lazy post-sex kisses, Brendon picked up his wallet and opened it up. “How much?”

Ryan didn't say anything. But what he did do was put his hand over Brendon's, closing the wallet shut.

“Ryan... let me pay you.”

He shook his head, pushing the wallet away again when Brendon opened it up. “No. I don't want you to pay me.”

“Why?”

Ryan wrapped his long, bony arms around Brendon, resting his head on his torso. “Because... you already have.”

“Huh?”

“You gave me something that's worth more than anything you could ever pay me. You... you made me feel like more than what I actually am. More than just some stripper.”

Brendon put around Ryan's back, kissing the top of his head. “Because you are more than that.”

xxx

They arrived back at the club an hour later, hands laced together as they made it to the front door. Brendon took his free hand and cupped Ryan's cheek, staring into the eyes that made his stomach do fucking back flips and his knees go weak. Ryan leaned into the touch, nuzzling into his hand.

“So... I guess this is good-bye,” Ryan said, biting his lower lip.

“Yeah- wait. No, no it's not.” Brendon squeezed his hand tighter in his. “I don't want it to be.”

Ryan tilted his head to the side. “What?”

“I... I want to see you again. I want this to work, Ryan. So fucking much.”

He pulled Brendon in a fiery kiss filled with tenderness, sweetness, and passion, gripping onto his jacket, and Brendon responds back, cupping the back of Ryan's head.

When they pulled away, Ryan wore a small smile that showed in his sparkling honey eyes. “Okay.”

“So, same time tomorrow?” Brendon asked.

Ryan nodded before wrapping his arms around Brendon once again, only this time to hug him closely, his cheek pressed against his. Brendon closed his eyes, whispering in Ryan's ear, “I have to go. I don't want to, but I have to.”

He released Brendon from his tight grip and let him turn around and walk away towards his car. Brendon took one last look back at the beautiful boy that changed his life in a matter of hours. Ryan stood, staring back at him, arms wrapped around his waist. He couldn't wait until tomorrow. He couldn't wait for the future when they could live in a big house and Brendon would bend down to pet the dog on the head before getting back up to kiss Ryan and hear him tell Brendon welcome home, honey.

He just had to tell Sarah first...

Fin.

xxx

Sorry if there's any mistakes or anything, but I haven't had anyone proof read this yet. Hope you enjoyed it.