Categories > Celebrities > Panic! At The Disco > Disheveled


by indie_chicky 9 reviews

Brendon Urie thinks he's so special. He thinks he can make anyone fall in love with him. But he's wrong and Ryan knows it. Right?

Category: Panic! At The Disco - Rating: R - Genres: Drama, Romance - Warnings: [X] - Published: 2007-03-24 - Updated: 2007-03-24 - 1471 words

This is a little different from how I usually right. It's rife with thick sexual tension, which you know, is pretty hot when it involves Ryan Ross and Brendon Urie...Anyhoo, reviews are splendid and if you could leave quotes, moments, details, etc. that you liked, that would be really helpful!! Thanks and enjoy!

Ryan Ross has a girlfriend.

Big fucking deal.

Brendon Urie is standing in the shower, muttering angrily to himself. He gets out and dresses, leaving his shirt off. As soon as he opens the door to the hotel bathroom, he can hear her. As soon as he turns the corner and looks at the form wrapped in Ryan's arms, he can see her.

All 90-lbs of her brainless form.

She's blonde. She giggles. She referred to them as "those goddamn door guys" when she first laid eyes on them.

She's everything Brendon hates.

And Ryan knows that.

Because he hates it too.

But Brendon Urie thinks he's so goddamn special. He thinks he can make anyone fall in love with him. He thinks he can make anyone fuck him.

But he's wrong, and Ryan knows it.


After all, that's why he wraps his arms around...oh, shit, what's her name?

Oh yeah, Melody (ironic, considering her voice pierces the air every time she speaks.)

Ryan holds her close enough to make Brendon cringe. Only this time, Brendon knows Ryan's game. And that's why he's shirtless.

And that's why Ryan's getting hard.

He remembers three fucking hours ago.


This very bed.

Ryan can say this for him.

Brendon's a hell of a maid.

The bed looks like it hasn't been disturbed in days.

But perhaps disturbed isn't the right word for that.

Messed up. Torn apart. Ruined. Disheveled.

That's it. He and Brendon are fucking disheveled. Every fucking day.

But, tonight, Melody feels Ryan getting more disheveled by the second and she thinks her fake tits and botoxed lips are the reason. She giggles again and grabs Ryan's hand, pulling him up.

"Come on, baby. Let's go back to my room."

She bounces out of the room, waving cutely at Brendon, and waits for Ryan to follow her to the room next door. Ryan walks slowly, and Brendon stands next to him, facing the opposite direction, so that they're standing shoulder to shoulder. Brendon leans in and grazes Ryan's ear with his lips, whispering.

"Oh, what a wonderful caricature of intimacy."

Ryan is shocked at the way his own words are used against him. He hisses.

"Fuck you."

Brendon simply smiles that tantalizing grin. With one word, he's backed Ryan's thoughts into a corner.


And it takes everything Ryan has to walk out of that room.

Because Brendon knows that he's won this round.

And Ryan wants so badly to reward him.

But as far as Brendon's concerned, he's already won the best prize.

Ryan's silently begging for more.

And Brendon's calling all the shots.
Thirty seconds later, Ryan's standing outside Melody's hotel room.

"Come back in five minutes."

She thought she was being sensual, but Ryan's just annoyed.

He just wants to fuck her so he can stop being


Ryan walks toward the vending machines, sees nothing he wants, walks back.

4 minutes, and 20 seconds to go.

Suddenly, a door opens and he's being pulled inside.

He's being slammed against a paper thin wall.

He's being marked on his neck.

He's moaning and writhing.

He's all too familiar with this touch.

"Why aren't you with Perky?"

Brendon's proud of himself for the nickname.

He's also proud of the way he's forcing Ryan to mutter, "Shut the fuck up" as he pulls Brendon's shirt over his head and forces Brendon's hands toward his pants.

"Anxious much?"

"I've only got three minutes."

"So, what do you want from me, Ross?"

Brendon unbuttons Ryan's shirt, and kneels, kissing and licking Ryan's stomach. Ryan's hand automatically shifts to the back of Brendon's head, trying to force it downwards. Brendon laughs sarcastically, pulling down the zipper with his teeth, then moving back up to kiss Ryan's lips and explore the other boy's mouth with his tongue. This never gets old because Ryan's moans of anticipation always make it worth it.

"Say it, Ryan. What do you want from me?"

"Fuck....can't you just...?"

Ryan's so disheveled he can't even talk.

Brendon shakes his head and pecks Ryan's lips again, running his hands up and down the other boy's torso.

"You know that's not the way this works."

"You pulled me in here! Why the hell should I have to explain?"

"You don't want to be in here?"

"Brendon, that's not..."

But Ryan knows he's said the wrong thing because Brendon's hands have stopped roaming his body, and started buttoning up Ryan's shirt.

"Brendon, please, no. Just stop!"

Ryan's begging isn't so silent anymore.

"I am. Isn't that what you wanted?"

"No, I want you."

Ryan's fucking pleading now.

Brendon pulls his own shirt back over his head and plunges his tongue into Ryan's mouth once more for a few seconds before he pulls away, grinning evilly.

"She's waiting."

"You're not serious."

Brendon chuckles and opens the door, motioning for Ryan to exit. Ryan's still massively...disheveled, and he knows that nothing Melody will do will make this longing go away. He starts to walk out, furious at yet hungry for the other boy as Brendon leans into his ear and whispers.

"I win."

Then, he shuts the door, still with that smug grin on his face. Ryan's knees crumble then, as he sits in front of the door for a minute, catching his breath and trying to think of a good excuse for where he's been. All the eloquent lyricist can finally come up with is: "I got distracted."
Fifteen minutes later, Ryan's laying on the same bed he and Brendon had fucked on earlier that afternoon. Brendon's not in the room, and Ryan lets his mind wander to where he could possibly be.

But, wait, isn't there something missing? (A certain bleach blonde whore, perhaps?)

She's back in her room, probably trying to come up with some creative way to please herself before she downs a couple of shots and calls it a night. Ryan doesn't really care anymore. He told her that he had a headache and was just going to kick Spencer out of his room so that he could go to bed. She thinks Spencer and Brendon are the ones who are going to be rooming tonight. If only she had a fucking clue she could figure out where Ryan really wanted to be, who he really wanted to be inside of.

Brendon had whispered his sweet words of victory, and now, Ryan wanted to give him what he had coming.

Suddenly, he hears noises in the next room. Like he had thought before, these walls are paper thin, and he wonders how Melody couldn't have heard him and Brendon just hours before.

Great. She's moaning. She's screaming.

She's sick.

Ryan just wants to walk in there and slap her for being so cheap. She couldn't get any from him, so now she's getting it from some low-budget porno she had stashed away for times like these. How did he get to this point where he knew the girl was a whore before he dated her, but he still did it anyway?

Oh yeah, he remembers now.

Brendon got him here.

Brendon and his cheap thrills.

Brendon and his deceptive smile.

Brendon and his smooth skin, his warm touch, his...well, you get the picture.

It's funny that he's thinking of that because now, he hears her scream a name.

So, she's not alone.

But who's she with?

"Oh, God! Brendon!"


Her voice is like nails on a chalkboard when she screams his name and he wonders if he sounds that terrible doing the same thing. Does Brendon really get any pleasure out of the involuntary whines and groans he can't help but release when they're together?

He must, Ryan decides, because he's a control freak. And knowing that he has the power to make anyone...literally, anyone, on the face of this planet sound like that for him has got to make him feel elated.

Ryan knows it'll only make Brendon happier if he busts in their right now and shows him how much he wants him, how much he needs him. So, instead, he lies on the bed, trying, yet failing to block them out, and decides that he won't let Brendon get the best of him, won't let him win.

But he already has.

Because all Ryan craves right now are Brendon's soft, inviting lips, whispering into his ear.

"You know it will always just be me."

And that's a fact that Ryan will never be able to dispute.
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