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The Internet Is For Porn

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It started in the living room sometime in the afternoon. Ryan has no idea how much time has passed since then, but judging from how low the sun is on the horizon as Spencer’s hand pushes him forward against the side of the tub in the master bathroom, they’ve been at it for a while.

When Spencer called him up, saying that he and Brendon were coming over to throw him a house warming party (“Just the four of us. Kick Eric and they guys out for the night.”), this is not what he imagined would happen.

The beer, yes. The pot too. Sex, well... old habits die hard, after all and it had been a while (six weeks, three days; too fucking long).

Ryan will bet his favourite guitar that turning the whole thing into a must-christen-every-available-surface-in-the-house aspect was Brendon’s idea.

In front of him, said marathon sex mastermind is humming to himself, playing around with what looks like every bottle in Ryan’s bathroom cabinet, adding this and that as the tub slowly fills up with hot water. Ryan sags against the side of the tub (old-fashioned, standing on gilded feet and just the right height for him to lean against) breathing in the scents of lavender and vanilla, the mere thought of getting to sink his body into a warm bath almost enough to put him right to sleep.

“Not yet.”

Ryan feels rather than hears a groan break from his throat as Spencer nudges his feet a little wider apart, stroking steadily up and down Ryan’s back before reaching lower, grasping Ryan’s hips in both hands and easing himself inside.

It’s an easy slide after so many rounds, and even though Ryan’s muscles immediately protest against the friction (too sore, too fucking sore), another part of him rejoices in it, making him arch and push back, desperate to take Spencer in deeper.

He hears a soft splash, and then someone is standing in front of him (Jon—he knows them all so well by now), reaching for his hair and pulling Ryan’s face up a bit. Ryan opens his mouth automatically, letting his jaw go slack as Jon pushes inside, letting himself be fucked from two directions.

More movement, and then Brendon is crawling into the space between Ryan and the tub, stroking Ryan’s thighs, kneading the muscles there when they start to tremble from exhaustion. Ryan cries out—a muffled sound around the weight of Jon’s cock—as Brendon takes him into his mouth, coaxing his dick to get hard for god knows what time that day.

Spencer takes it as a hint to up the tempo, fucking Ryan hard and deep, relentless stimulation that’s guaranteed to get Ryan off fast, even though he has no idea how his body will physically manage another orgasm. The movement drives him deeper into Brendon’s mouth and harder onto Jon’s cock, and both of them take Spencer’s change of pace as a cue to increase their own efforts, leaving Ryan writhing between them.

He can feel Jon getting close, hands tightening in Ryan’s hair as he pulls him faster up and down his cock, tilting Ryan’s head back a fraction more so that Jon can slide into his throat. Ryan does his best to keep sucking, lips raw from too much use, moaning helplessly. Jon pulls Ryan’s hair hard when he comes, holding him close as his hips work through his orgasm in tiny, hitched thrusts. Ryan swallows greedily (a more than easy feat this late in the game) keeping his lips around Jon until Jon pulls back. Jon sinks down into the bath, groaning happily, and Ryan opens his eyes, watches him lean back into the water with a blissful look on his face.

He doesn’t manage to look at Jon for very long. A few more deep thrusts from Spencer, and Ryan is coming down Brendon’s throat, letting out a hoarse shout as every nerve ending in his body suddenly feels like it’s on fire. The pleasure-pain of it is blinding, making Ryan feel like he’s being honest-to-god fucked apart, leaving nothing but a wobbly panting mess between Spencer and Brendon’s bodies.

He might black out for a second, he’s honestly not sure anymore, and the next thing that really registers with him is the feeling of Spencer spilling inside him, followed by unsteady arms pulling him up, helping Ryan stand.

Ryan cranes his neck, reaching blindly behind him until he finds Spencer’s lips, letting Spencer hold him up as they share a deep, exhausted kiss. Spencer guides him carefully forward, and Jon and Brendon help him lift his legs, climb into the tub.

The water is simultaneously torture and bliss against his skin, and Ryan hisses as he sinks lower, letting Brendon guide him until he’s resting in Jon’s lap, head falling back against Jon’s shoulder. There’s a bit of commotion as Spencer climbs in as well (and some good-natured bickering between him and Brendon over who gets to play with the other’s hair) but they all make it somehow.

Ryan stretches his legs, feeling them tangle with those of his bandmates and thinks that, yes, this place is definitely home.