Categories > Celebrities > Panic! At The Disco > Homework Was Never Quite Like This
Part Three
Final instalment, mwah! Mostly for secretive, because she requested something along these lines. Did I do you proud honey? ;)
?Blocked
Ryan knew that this was wrong, but it was so right that he didn’t care. He leaned in further, burying deeper into the moans and hoarded quakes Brendon made. Every time the angle twisted; twirled passionately, Brendon would shiver. When Ryan pushed his hands to the wall and took a deep breath, followed by his thrusting hard and certain, Brendon squealed happily, a sex filled laughter trickling from his lips. He wrapped his legs around Ryan’s waist a little tighter, feeling a hipbone bruise his thigh more. The wall was like a cheese grater and he was the cheese; pressure against one side and bumps peeving his spine. The difference was that a hunk of cheese doesn’t get to be fucked raw by someone who knows exactly how to hit him hard and just right. Then, suddenly, the pace was changed; it was deeper and less of a rocking back and forth kind of rhythm, it was more of a circular grinding pattern now and it was burning, but in a way that Brendon couldn’t adore anymore than he did.
“Fuck yes,” Brendon exhaled. Sweat dripped from every crease in his edible body. Ryan couldn’t stop staring. He wanted to shut his eyes and focus more on the task at hand, but he just couldn’t pry his eyes away from the delicious sight before him; pressed so close, aching for more.
“Yeah?” Ryan breathed mischievously, ruggedly, temptingly. Brendon nodded, licking his lips and squeezing his eyes closed. A clump of hair fell over an eye, but his hands were gripping the non-existent handles of the wall too hard to move it away from his face. Holding himself up like this was becoming increasingly difficult. To begin with it was okay; he was positioned awkwardly, but the immense pleasure being thrown into him made it worth it. But after twenty minutes of sticking to each other, his muscles began to give out a touch. Ryan held himself steady momentarily, to flick the hair from Brendon’s temple. Brendon’s legs began to slip down Ryan’s torso, so Ryan took it as a hint- what it actually was, was a brief loss of balance, but he was grateful for what came next. Ryan’s chest peeled away from Brendon’s and he slithered free. Panting, he directed Brendon.
“Knees.” He almost demanded. “Hands and knees.” He smiled wickedly and Brendon smirked, stripping flakes of the wall with him as he moved towards Ryan and kissed into him.
“Yes, Sir.” Brendon whispered cheekily and Ryan trembled. It wasn’t until Brendon was on the ground again, that he could see just how rough he’d been exploring the poor boy; wall dents and a few grazes surrounded a couple of smudged purple-blue spots on Brendon’s back. He didn’t seem to notice, nor really care though, so Ryan dove onto his knees behind him. It wasn’t long before they couldn’t be closer, again and pools of sweat mixed with saliva crashed against the carpet and splashed back up to his soaking skin. Grunts and filthy sounds filled the tall, modernly dressed living room, wet packing sounds- the slapping of skin on skin- drowned out the heavy panting and rocky breathing. And it was glorious.
Suddenly, Ryan was digging deeper, delving further into the wet bliss that was another being’s body. His nails disappeared into Brendon’s hips and his knees threatened to cave in. He bit into his lip and groaned at the back of his throat. It came out more dominant than he’d intended, and somewhat resembled the sound one would make while eating, to show that the food is enjoyable. Brendon shivered, contently. His breathing hitched, caught on the, now, shallow movements of Ryan as he rode out the intensity. When he withdrew, he rolled to his side and collided with the couch behind them. He panted for a few seconds; salvaging breath, then shook his head and blinked his eyes out of his skull. Brendon slumped next to him and watched him laugh excitedly. Just as Brendon was thinking of crawling onto the sofa and falling asleep, Ryan was dragging him upwards by the hand. He was thrown onto the sofa gently and then attacked sweetly by a pair of swollen lips. They vaguely tasted like blood; Ryan had bitten too hard on one when- well, the whole time.
Ryan groaned into Brendon’s mouth and Brendon throbbed below him, desperate, needy, glittering with moisture. Ryan’s mouth trickled down Brendon’s neck, nibbling on collarbones and breastplates and ribs and hips and then finally, dragging teeth ever so slightly up a completely different kind of bone. Brendon quaked; goose bumps rising from his skin and popping out of him. This was all a little rougher than Brendon was used to- hell, it was much rougher than he’d ever experienced- but it was also far greater than any other intimate series of moments that had occurred in his life. Sucking and teasing and moaning around Brendon, Ryan started to grow hard again. He forced Brendon into a climax in no time.
“Come on.” Ryan told Brendon, pulling at his arms. Brendon could see now feasible explanation as to why Ryan wasn’t exhausted, but followed sluggishly as he was guided past shirts and shoes and pants and material, into the hallway and through a corridor to the bedroom. No, no. Not the bedroom, because the door next to the one they were standing before was open, revealing the tail end of a king sized mahogany bed, draped in silk sheets and laced with expensiveness. Brendon wanted to crawl into the bed and drift off into a happy slumber, but Ryan pushed open a door behind him, looking giddy like a little child.
“I’ve always wanted to try this.” He breathes; face smug and excited and anxious all at the same time. He planted a soggy kiss on Brendon’s lips and walked the two of them backwards, wetting Brendon’s lips every step.
Brendon kept his eyes shut, kissing back hungrily and warming up to the idea of staying awake. He gripped pieces of Ryan’s back as his feet came in contact with cold bare tiles. The bathroom. When they reached a point, Ryan reached his arm out and swung open a second door, so the two could step inside.
“Is this a shower room?” Brendon asked amazed and Ryan hummed, chewing softly at Brendon’s neck. He fiddled with a switch behind him and suddenly a flow of fast, hot water was striking them; pattering against their skin and the walls around them. Ryan leaned up into Brendon’s ear.
“Shut the door.” He laughed and Brendon obeyed, with Ryan’s mouth still hanging loose by an ear lobe, which, once the door was closed, was seized between teeth and tugged a little. “Thanks.” Ryan whispered. How could he make such simple words sound so sexy? How could he do that to Brendon?
Within minutes, Ryan was slamming into Brendon again, rougher this time, because Brendon was standing, so the angle was easier. Brendon hands slipped every so often from the steamed glass door he was pressing into and condensation filled the spaces between his fingers. The haze was probably from the water, but could equally as possibly been because of their flouting grinding. Brendon backed into Ryan and clenched experimentally, causing a wet “mmm” sound to slip from Ryan’s mouth and drip onto Brendon’s soaked back. The water was starting to splash now, against the sloppy thrusting and making dirty noises that shouldn’t have aroused Brendon as much as it did. When Ryan was close again, a hand moved in front of Brendon and clutched firmly.
“Shit.” Ryan groaned in a watery voice. He flicked his wrist dangerously rough, until Brendon was contributing to the liquid in their shower and moaning luscious noises that sounded grateful. Ryan followed shortly after, slipping out Brendon’s name as he panted. It tugged at Brendon’s heart strings because he felt so united with this man, combined in a ball of heat and passion and sweat and shower water and sex.
Brendon stayed the night, curled up in a ball between Ryan’s torso and the edge of the silk sheeted bed frame. He didn’t want to admit it, but the sounds of Ryan stirring in his sleep were comforting and acted as a lullaby. Brendon awoke the next day to a smiling figure stroking strands of matted morning hair, sprouting from his head.
“Good morning.” Ryan soothed, then, tugging a little at Brendon’s hair and staring at the rise in purple silk that was an extensive case of morning wood, asked, “Would you like me to sort that out for you?”
“Fuck yes,” Brendon exhaled. Sweat dripped from every crease in his edible body. Ryan couldn’t stop staring. He wanted to shut his eyes and focus more on the task at hand, but he just couldn’t pry his eyes away from the delicious sight before him; pressed so close, aching for more.
“Yeah?” Ryan breathed mischievously, ruggedly, temptingly. Brendon nodded, licking his lips and squeezing his eyes closed. A clump of hair fell over an eye, but his hands were gripping the non-existent handles of the wall too hard to move it away from his face. Holding himself up like this was becoming increasingly difficult. To begin with it was okay; he was positioned awkwardly, but the immense pleasure being thrown into him made it worth it. But after twenty minutes of sticking to each other, his muscles began to give out a touch. Ryan held himself steady momentarily, to flick the hair from Brendon’s temple. Brendon’s legs began to slip down Ryan’s torso, so Ryan took it as a hint- what it actually was, was a brief loss of balance, but he was grateful for what came next. Ryan’s chest peeled away from Brendon’s and he slithered free. Panting, he directed Brendon.
“Knees.” He almost demanded. “Hands and knees.” He smiled wickedly and Brendon smirked, stripping flakes of the wall with him as he moved towards Ryan and kissed into him.
“Yes, Sir.” Brendon whispered cheekily and Ryan trembled. It wasn’t until Brendon was on the ground again, that he could see just how rough he’d been exploring the poor boy; wall dents and a few grazes surrounded a couple of smudged purple-blue spots on Brendon’s back. He didn’t seem to notice, nor really care though, so Ryan dove onto his knees behind him. It wasn’t long before they couldn’t be closer, again and pools of sweat mixed with saliva crashed against the carpet and splashed back up to his soaking skin. Grunts and filthy sounds filled the tall, modernly dressed living room, wet packing sounds- the slapping of skin on skin- drowned out the heavy panting and rocky breathing. And it was glorious.
Suddenly, Ryan was digging deeper, delving further into the wet bliss that was another being’s body. His nails disappeared into Brendon’s hips and his knees threatened to cave in. He bit into his lip and groaned at the back of his throat. It came out more dominant than he’d intended, and somewhat resembled the sound one would make while eating, to show that the food is enjoyable. Brendon shivered, contently. His breathing hitched, caught on the, now, shallow movements of Ryan as he rode out the intensity. When he withdrew, he rolled to his side and collided with the couch behind them. He panted for a few seconds; salvaging breath, then shook his head and blinked his eyes out of his skull. Brendon slumped next to him and watched him laugh excitedly. Just as Brendon was thinking of crawling onto the sofa and falling asleep, Ryan was dragging him upwards by the hand. He was thrown onto the sofa gently and then attacked sweetly by a pair of swollen lips. They vaguely tasted like blood; Ryan had bitten too hard on one when- well, the whole time.
Ryan groaned into Brendon’s mouth and Brendon throbbed below him, desperate, needy, glittering with moisture. Ryan’s mouth trickled down Brendon’s neck, nibbling on collarbones and breastplates and ribs and hips and then finally, dragging teeth ever so slightly up a completely different kind of bone. Brendon quaked; goose bumps rising from his skin and popping out of him. This was all a little rougher than Brendon was used to- hell, it was much rougher than he’d ever experienced- but it was also far greater than any other intimate series of moments that had occurred in his life. Sucking and teasing and moaning around Brendon, Ryan started to grow hard again. He forced Brendon into a climax in no time.
“Come on.” Ryan told Brendon, pulling at his arms. Brendon could see now feasible explanation as to why Ryan wasn’t exhausted, but followed sluggishly as he was guided past shirts and shoes and pants and material, into the hallway and through a corridor to the bedroom. No, no. Not the bedroom, because the door next to the one they were standing before was open, revealing the tail end of a king sized mahogany bed, draped in silk sheets and laced with expensiveness. Brendon wanted to crawl into the bed and drift off into a happy slumber, but Ryan pushed open a door behind him, looking giddy like a little child.
“I’ve always wanted to try this.” He breathes; face smug and excited and anxious all at the same time. He planted a soggy kiss on Brendon’s lips and walked the two of them backwards, wetting Brendon’s lips every step.
Brendon kept his eyes shut, kissing back hungrily and warming up to the idea of staying awake. He gripped pieces of Ryan’s back as his feet came in contact with cold bare tiles. The bathroom. When they reached a point, Ryan reached his arm out and swung open a second door, so the two could step inside.
“Is this a shower room?” Brendon asked amazed and Ryan hummed, chewing softly at Brendon’s neck. He fiddled with a switch behind him and suddenly a flow of fast, hot water was striking them; pattering against their skin and the walls around them. Ryan leaned up into Brendon’s ear.
“Shut the door.” He laughed and Brendon obeyed, with Ryan’s mouth still hanging loose by an ear lobe, which, once the door was closed, was seized between teeth and tugged a little. “Thanks.” Ryan whispered. How could he make such simple words sound so sexy? How could he do that to Brendon?
Within minutes, Ryan was slamming into Brendon again, rougher this time, because Brendon was standing, so the angle was easier. Brendon hands slipped every so often from the steamed glass door he was pressing into and condensation filled the spaces between his fingers. The haze was probably from the water, but could equally as possibly been because of their flouting grinding. Brendon backed into Ryan and clenched experimentally, causing a wet “mmm” sound to slip from Ryan’s mouth and drip onto Brendon’s soaked back. The water was starting to splash now, against the sloppy thrusting and making dirty noises that shouldn’t have aroused Brendon as much as it did. When Ryan was close again, a hand moved in front of Brendon and clutched firmly.
“Shit.” Ryan groaned in a watery voice. He flicked his wrist dangerously rough, until Brendon was contributing to the liquid in their shower and moaning luscious noises that sounded grateful. Ryan followed shortly after, slipping out Brendon’s name as he panted. It tugged at Brendon’s heart strings because he felt so united with this man, combined in a ball of heat and passion and sweat and shower water and sex.
Brendon stayed the night, curled up in a ball between Ryan’s torso and the edge of the silk sheeted bed frame. He didn’t want to admit it, but the sounds of Ryan stirring in his sleep were comforting and acted as a lullaby. Brendon awoke the next day to a smiling figure stroking strands of matted morning hair, sprouting from his head.
“Good morning.” Ryan soothed, then, tugging a little at Brendon’s hair and staring at the rise in purple silk that was an extensive case of morning wood, asked, “Would you like me to sort that out for you?”
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