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The thing is, Ryan Ross doesn’t do guys. It’s not that he doesn’t like them. He does. He, in fact, likes cock, and has taken cock a few times. He likes guys. He just doesn’t do them. At least not since he started getting interested in this. People always tended to say he was bossy, but he never thought himself as a dominant person. That was of course until Gabe convinced him to go to this kind of light BDSM club, just to see some performance of a friend of him and, well, the rest is pretty much history.

So yeah, Ryan got into it when he had already a good record of vanilla sex with guys and girls, and thought it would be the same in this case. Only it wasn’t. For some reason, Ryan found it difficult to be a Dom with men. It just didn’t feel… nice. First he thought maybe it was some internalized misogyny, he just dominating woman. It wouldn’t be that crazy, almost every guy over the surface of the planet suffers of some of it. But then Z called him an “aesthetic slut” one day and Ryan realized, although he didn’t like the vocabulary used, she was actually right. He didn’t have an inner desire of dominating women, it wasn’t that guys intimidated him or that he saw them as equals and couldn’t take them as subs. It was just… that girls are prettier. Their bodies, their figures, breast, legs, lips, eyes. Everything is prettier. And Ryan likes pretty things. Guys are hot, yeah, but pretty? Not so much.

So he doesn’t do guys. Doesn’t take them as subs. He still fucks guys, just not on his daily basis. And it’s not a problem for him. He really is happy as he is.

He just wanted conversation. He promises. He didn’t even feel like creating a scene today, he was just… there, sipping at his drink, having some fun, watching the shows. And then this guy, this fucking weird guy, for lack of a better word, was sitting there looking all bored and shit. And he had this colorful drink in his hand that looked really delicious. Ryan just wanted conversation.

“Fucking awesome, right?” Ryan said, speaking about the performance going on, the sub was taking that spanking like a champ. “What are you drinking?” He didn’t even think about the guy being a sub. He didn’t fucking looked like one, anyway. “Looks tasty.” It’s just. Okay, not like Ryan was the best social skilled person. But the bored looking guy looked at him bored, his eyes scanning him before saying just one word.





So here it is. Ryan has an ego. He’s not egotistical, but he’s a Dom for a reason. So, if anyone, and anyone means anyone, take him for granted, he gets fucking pissed. So, of course, he is absolutely pissed right now. Because he wasn’t offering shit. He didn’t want to take him home. He didn’t want to top him, or make him submit, or anything. He wasn’t being a Dom. He was trying to be nice. And now this fucking sub with his leather jacket and his shitty stubble and his cigarette between his fingers (honest to God, he didn’t looked at all like a sub) is implying that Ryan’s boring, bland, using a fucking safe-word when Ryan just wanted to be nice.

“Excuse me?” He asks, because he can’t believe what he’s heard. He doesn’t want to believe this little shit just… “Um. Wow, okay. Listen. I think you’re mistaken. I’m not offering…”

Beige,” the guy repeats, now looking even more bored and taking a sip at his drink.

And really, Ryan should just go. Tell him to fuck off and leave, go talk to someone else, go home, whatever, stop wasting his time with this asshole. But he feels offended. This fucking sub is offending him. On purpose! Using a fucking safe-word with him when he’s not even his Dom! Ryan feels sorry for whoever’s in charge of this one. Speaking of which, they should try to control their pets.

“Look, I’m not interested. I only do girls,” Ryan says, just to make it clear. He’s not offering, asshole. He’s not interested in your obnoxious ass. He likes his subs obedient and pretty. And you’re nothing like that. Or, well, maybe those lips. Ryan could do good use of those lips, but that’s that. Nothing else. So Ryan’s about to go, that said. But this time the guy snorts a laugh, nodding and taking another sip at his drink, and Ryan’s blood boils in his veins. “What?”

“Nothing,” the guy says, and it’s the first time Ryan hears another word apart from that fucking color out of his mouth. “You only do girls. I can see why.”

“What the fuck does that means?” Ryan steps closer, frowning and getting a little into the guy’s personal space because fuck it, this guy’s playing him and he wants a fucking answer. If he doesn’t like it, he can use the color ‘red’ to get out of it. “You think I couldn’t do you too?” And that’s his Dom side speaking. Fuck being a nice guy. His voice changes, his posture changes, his fucking aura changes. Ryan can feel the rush of power in his veins.

And the guy fucking laughs.

“You think you could?” He asks. And that’s it. That’s all Ryan needs. He’s pretty easy, truth to be told.

“I could. And I will.”

“Sure, dude. Whatever.”

“I think the word you’re looking for is ‘sir’,” Ryan corrects him, and the guy just snorts a laugh again.

Ryan slaps him hard across the face.

He regrets it the moment he does it, and his heart pumps fast when he sees the guy’s face turning red, a bit of blood on the corner of his mouth because Ryan’s wearing his ring. He regrets it, because this guy is not his sub, dammit, maybe he’s not even a sub. And they haven’t agreed anything, mostly because Ryan hasn’t offered, because he didn’t want anything to do with this guy because he doesn’t do guys. Fuck, for all he knows this guy could be just an asshole, or maybe he’s a newcomer who doesn’t know best. Ryan’s about to apologize and get out of there when the guy looks at him, his eyes darker and the tip of his tongue touching the open wound of his lip, stepping closer into Ryan’s space.

“Beige,” he says, and Ryan's doubts vanish. He wants this. This is what he’s looking for.

Ryan grabs his face hard, using the few inches he got on the guy to impose himself. And he’s glad he’s taller, because he’s certainly not stronger.

“I’m gonna get you up there and make you kneel for me,” he hisses, digging his fingers in the bone, making it hurt. And the guy chokes on his breath a little, making Ryan smile.

“I don’t do stages,” he says, and Ryan thinks that he doesn’t do guys either but here they are. They can’t go to a private room. Ryan didn’t bring his kit, so he wouldn’t be able to do anything but use only his own hands, and that’s not how he works. Also, he wouldn’t be able to provide any kind of aftercare. So he’s about to say it’s stage or nothing, but the guy adds. “That’s a red for me.”

Ryan should stops it right here. He should, because this doesn’t make sense anyway. Did he already say he doesn’t do guys? This is his opportunity to get out of this nonsense.

“Then you’re going home with me,” he says instead. Way to go, Ryan. You and only you will be responsible if this gets out of hand.

They guy seems shocked for a second, and it’s weird to see that expression across his confident face. Then he smiles, crooked, releasing himself from Ryan’s grip with a sharp movement and finishing his drink.

“You don’t need to take me home to beat the shit out of me,” he says. “The nearest alley will do.”

“I don’t think I look like Tyler Durden, do I?” Ryan asks, frowning and grabbing the guy’s shirt this time, grazing their noses together. “I said you’re coming home with me.”

“And what if I don’t want to?”

“I don’t give a fuck about what you want. You’re mine tonight.”




Ryan’s still unsure as they walk to his car. He doesn’t fully understand what this is. This guy acts weird and it makes Ryan not being able to get into his Dom role completely. It feels like he’s forcing him somehow, because he doesn’t act like a sub at all. But he knows the use of safe-words and he’s totally able to use the color ‘red’, as he showed before, so Ryan imagines this is, as weird as it can feel, totally consensual.

The way home is not too long, but Ryan wants it to end the moment he starts the engine. This guy, honest to god, is fucking irritating. It seems like, now that Ryan has taking him as a sub (‘sub’, a word that’s totally losing its meaning right now), he has opened Pandora’s box. The guy doesn’t stop provoking Ryan, trying to get on his nerves the whole way. Ryan has to slap him again when they stop for a red light. He seems happy about it.

“Your name,” Ryan asks the moment they step in, taking off his coat and hanging it on the coat stand. “I won’t keep this on if I don’t know your name.”

“Brendon,” the guy says, looking around and walking in before Ryan, not waiting for an invitation. “Yours?”

“I already told you. You will call me ‘sir’, that’s the only name you need to know,” Ryan says, and that in fact would help him to get in character a little bit more. But of course, Brendon doesn’t seem willing to make his life easier.

“Oh, fuck off,” he says, and Ryan reacts right away.

He grabs him by his neck, slamming him against the wall and pressing hard, and Brendon groans and coughs, opening a shit-eating grin even if he’s fighting to breath right now.

“What the fuck did you just say?” Ryan digs his nails in Brendon’s neck, careful not to press his windpipe too hard but enough. “I think you need some discipline, boy.”

Brendon seems ready to answer, and Ryan would shut his mouth biting it, sucking at his wounded lip and tasting his blood, but he doesn’t know if Brendon’s been tested recently, he doesn’t know anything because they haven’t talked about anything, so he just chokes him harder. He moves his hand then to Brendon’s hair, long enough to fist and pull it, getting him away from the wall and kicking at the back of his knees, making him fall.

He drags him to the bedroom, it’s not that far anyway, and throws him on the floor near the bed, closing the door behind them. It’s not his main bedroom, of course, but it is a bedroom. Ryan doesn’t have the time or the money to have a proper dungeon with proper gear, so he has a bedroom with some toys. An iron bed and ropes, some canes and paddles, candles and a bunch of insertion toys, he doesn’t need anything else, he’s a very resourceful guy. The little fridge comes in handy not to need going to the kitchen for some water or snacks.

“Get on the bed,” he commands, standing in front of Brendon.

“Make me,” Brendon answers, and Ryan wants to laugh because he can’t believe this guy. He’s still a bit red from the choking, the marks of Ryan’s nails are on his neck, and his hair is a mess, his eyes shiny and his lip swollen. And still.

Ryan fists his hair again just to get him up, tugging at his leather jacket to take it off and revealing an arm full of tattoos that goes up and under the sleeve of his t-shirt. Brendon fights him, not to much but he does, and Ryan has to throw him on the bed and pin him down, using his body to hold him still and getting his hand down to unbutton Brendon’s jeans.

He doesn’t know what he expected. Usually when he inflicts corporal punishments, even if the sub enjoys it, it doesn’t particularly arouse them. It’s not a physical pleasure, but a mental one. And he’s seen male subs taking corporal punishment too, enjoying it, but being maybe half hard at most, completely flaccid if the beating wasn’t alternated with pleasure.

Brendon’s hard. Completely, absolutely, deliciously raging hard. And Ryan has to take a moment to watch him, half naked, his cock shiny and full red. Ryan mouth waters, and he has to blink a couple of times and almost shake his head to go back to earth. Brendon’s looking at him, expecting, his chest moving as he breathes hard.

“Don’t you dare to move,” Ryan grunts, and he gets out of the bed, kicking Brendon’s clothes out of his way to go get his rope.

Brendon doesn’t move, surprisingly, but when Ryan gets back to the bed he’s fully naked. He’s got an amazing body, lean with full arms and thighs, not too noticeable six-pack but a V-shape Ryan would love to dip his tongue in.

He has bruises too. Across his ribs, mostly. They don’t look like scene bruises. Ryan has seen bruises, he’s been the source of some (most) of them, he’s even seen scars and wounds. They all have a particular shape you can recognize as something done during a scene. These bruises don’t look like those at all. These ones look like a fight caused them.

He frog-ties his leg fast, he knows what he’s doing. Ryan likes rope, even if he’s never tied a man before and he lacks in knowledge about cock and balls bondage. Everybody has arms and legs and that’s enough for him.

“Up,” he says, and helps Brendon get on his knees, getting behind him and tying his hands together. He’d love to do a reverse prayer, but something tells him Brendon wouldn’t be too patient for it.

“Do you tie up your girls too or is it just me?” Brendon asks, looking back over his shoulder and laughing. “Afraid you can’t control me if you don’t restrain me?”

Ryan takes a deep breath and counts to three, stopping himself from whatever verbal response and opening one of the drawers of his bedside table, getting an anal hook. Ryan smiles when Brendon groans as he pushes the metal ball inside him, no lube, no preparation. If Brendon’s hair were longer, Ryan could tie the hook to it, but the wrist will have to do.

“I think you’re ready,” Ryan says, and pushes Brendon hard, making him fall face down over the bed.

He’s going to use the cane, of course he is, but first he wants to use his hands. He wants to, he needs to get that ass spanked with his bare hands. Ryan never had any preference for any body part, he just likes pretty things. Now, looking at Brendon face-down, tied up and hooked, his full round ass sticking out, he can honestly say this is one of the prettiest ass he’s ever seen.

The first slap makes Brendon jump and leaves a beautiful pink color across the cheek. The second and the third make Brendon groan and Ryan shivers. By the time he gets to ten, Brendon’s ass is flushed pink and Ryan’s cock feels hard inside his jeans. He increase the intensity for a few seconds, spanking faster and harder, feeling the skin tingling under his hand, then he strokes, massaging, giving him some rest.

“That’s all you got?” Brendon says, even if his breath is faster now. “I give it a 6 out of 10. I bet you can do better.”

Ryan slaps him as hard as he can, making him scream. This should teach him. Only it doesn’t. Brendon laughs then and rates it with a 7.5 out of 10, tells Ryan to keep working on it.

He gets the belt. He wasn’t going to, but the cane feels too light in his hand and he wants something he can grip hard as he beat the shit out of this brat. He counts every lash because Brendon sure as hell won’t, hearing him grunt and moan, watching him squirm and twist. Every ‘fuck’, ‘God’ and ‘yes’ coming out of Brendon’s mouth is like music to his ears.

Ryan’s arm hurts when he stops, and Brendon’s panting, sweating, his ass and inner thighs completely red. Ryan grabs him by his hips and turns him around, looking at him and pushing the wet hair out of his face, touching his lips, grazing the skin of his neck.

“Not so chatty anymore?” Ryan asks, looking down to see how Brendon hasn’t lost his erection. Ryan would even say he’s harder now, bigger. He gets the cane now, touching Brendon’s chest with it, moving it down to his cock, tapping on it. “Ready for more, sweetheart?”

Ryan delivers the first blow at the same time Brendon says ‘yes’, his voice low and ragged, his body reacting instantly. It’s mesmerizing, seeing him take it so well, so willing. He loves it, anyone could see it, how his skin get goosebumps and his cock twitches, how he moans and moans and moans, and Ryan hits him harder, softer, better, starting to know him, to know his body, working it.

“Don’t stop!” Brendon groans when he does, looking at Ryan with droopy eyes, moving against Ryan’s hand when he strokes the hurt skin, wanting. “Please. Please, don’t stop. Please keep going.”

Ryan does. He kind of wants not to, he wants to laugh and ask what happened to his wit, but Brendon’s begging so pretty, he’s saying ‘please’ and Ryan can’t resist. He has to reward him.

He doesn’t need to hit him that hard anymore, Brendon’s oversensitive body responding almost to everything Ryan does. Ryan unbuttons his own jeans, grunting when his cock finally springs free out of his boxers. He’s so hard it hurts, and he strokes himself looking for some relief.

“Fuck me?” Brendon asks, looking at him and licking his lips. And Ryan wasn’t going to, he didn’t have sex in mind when he brought Brendon home. “Please? Sir. Sir, please.”

Ryan’s only human.

He would fuck him like this, looking at his face, pushing two fingers inside his mouth just to see those lips wrapped around them. But he needs to get the hook out of Brendon before he sticks his cock in him, so he turns him around again, untangling the ropes and getting the hook out carefully because Brendon’s moving desperate. He opens one of the drawers to get condoms and lube, squeezing the latter between Brendon’s cheeks.

“No, don’t. No lube,” Brendon groans.

“You need it,” Ryan says, rolling the condom down. He does. Ryan’s big enough to actually make some damage. Or maybe not, maybe Brendon’s used to fisting and Ryan could just push it in without care, but he doesn’t know it and Ryan’s been doing this long enough to know he can’t trust a sub’s word in this state of mind.

He needed it. Ryan can feel it the moment he pushes inside and Brendon’s so tight he has to stop and breathe. Brendon curses ‘fuck, fuck, fuck’ as Ryan pushes again, holding his hips up and getting a pillow under them. Brendon screams the first time Ryan gets out and pushes all the way in at once, and from there on, it’s all chaos.

He fucks him hard, and digs his nails on Brendon’s skin as hard, fisting his hair as he pounds him, using his body as he please. Brendon chants ‘gonna come, gonna come, gonna come’ and Ryan sees how he scratches his hands together, like he was desperate to grab something, maybe to touch himself. Ryan does, touch him, stroke his cock, but by the time he does Brendon’s already coming, Ryan’s hand slick fisting his cock to milk him dry.

When Ryan comes is like fireworks exploding under his eyelids, his whole body trembling as he fucks his climax into Brendon, falling exhausted on top of him without even getting out of his body.

He would love to sleep right now, but he needs to take care of the rest. He cuts Brendon’s restrains because fuck the rope, he can buy more. He massages the marks the rope left on Brendon’s skin, helping him move and get confortable on the bed, then going to the fridge for a bottle of water and a can of Red-Bull, plus some snack and stuff. He doesn’t know Brendon, what he could need.

“Hey,” he calls, sitting beside him and touching his cheek. Brendon’s breathing hard and he’s a little cold. Ryan leans in to kiss his forehead. “You okay? Here,” he says, offering him the bottle of water.

Brendon looks at him confused for a moment, propping himself to lean on the pillows, taking the bottle from Ryan’s hand but not drinking.

“What are you doing?” He asks, and Ryan makes a face, laughing then.

“What?” He asks, opening his Red-Bull and drinking. God, he needs this. “Drink. Or are you one of those who don’t like aftercare? You need to drink, anyway.”

Brendon keeps looking at him weird, but he uncaps the bottle and drinks. Ryan makes sure he’s getting hydrated before moving again to get a hand towel and another bottle of water, then taking a blanket and leaving it at Brendon’s feet. He wets the towel and gets on his knees beside Brendon.

“Come here,” he says, but Brendon keeps looking at him funny, and Ryan puts the towel away. “Hey. If you don’t want aftercare, that’s fine.”

“What’s that?” Brendon asks, and now it’s Ryan’s turn to frown.

“What’s what?”

“Aftercare,” Brendon says, and Ryan eyes open wide. “I mean, it’s a thing you do or…”

“Was this your first time??” Ryan can't believe it. Really, he’s been with girls who were newcomers and they were nothing like Brendon. In fact, he looked like he was well versed in these kinds of practices.

“What? No!” Brendon laughs, or he tries at least. He’s still look dizzy and kind of pale. Ryan takes a chocolate bar and offers it to Brendon, who takes it immediately and starts eating it. “God, thanks. I’m not new. I’ve done this a lot, believe me. I mean, not this, but. Yeah. I’ve been in the club for, like, dunno, a year or so.”

“And you don’t know what’s aftercare?” Ryan asks, and Brendon shakes his head, chewing his snack. He looks kind of childish now that he’s not being an asshole. Almost cute. Ryan wonders what kind of Dom did he find that didn’t bother to provide aftercare. “Then what do you do? When you drop, I mean.”

“Oh. Well.” Brendon closes his eyes and tries to breathe deep, licking his lips. “I. Um. I usually feel like shit for like a week. Then come back for more. I guess I deserve it, if I keep coming back and…”

“It’s okay. It’s…” Ryan shakes his head. “You don’t. You don’t deserve it,” he says, and takes one of Brendon’s hands between his own, stroking lightly because he’s still not sure of what Brendon needs. “Look, aftercare is a must, okay? No one that skips it when their sub needs it can call themselves a Dom. Understand? Those people… they didn’t… That wasn’t right. That was unfair to you.”

“Okay…” Brendon says, his eyes lowering to where Ryan’s stroking his hand. He just looks, he doesn’t move away or tells him to stop, so Ryan takes the towel again and starts cleaning Brendon’s wrist, just to provide comfort to the bruised skin.

“I’m going to take care of you. Okay?” He asks, keeping his voice soft, waiting for Brendon to nod.

He starts cleaning him with the towel, the sweat on Brendon’s skin, the pink thick marks, the red raised welts. Brendon hisses sometimes, and Ryan kisses him softly where he’s not bruised, making soothing sounds and saying it’s okay, he’ll finish soon.

“Apparently I’m a smart-ass masochist,” Brendon says when Ryan’s taking care of the wounds on Brendon’s inner thighs. He tries not to feel sick thinking about how he could do this to somebody, hurt him like this. He liked it. They both liked it. This is a game. “And, for what I’ve heard, we’re not appreciated inside the community.”

“I know. And yeah, I noticed. You’re not really a sub. Or, I mean. You don’t enjoy just submitting to someone,” Ryan agrees, finishing to clean him up and throwing the towel on the floor, getting the blanket and wrapping Brendon with it. Brendon smiles, snuggling a little.

“Yeah, not really. I mean, I’ve never… I liked this, what we did. I never got to do something like this. I tried doing it the usual way at first, but it just…” Brendon sighs and looks at Ryan when he lies beside him on the bed. “I just like pain,” he says. “A lot.”

“Yeah, I noticed,” Ryan laughs, getting closer. “Cuddles?” He asks, and Brendon nods, unwrapping himself and pushing himself into Ryan’s arms, wrapping them both.

“I just know how to make people angry. But. The angrier they get, the harder they hit, so I get what I want.” Brendon laughs, resting his head on Ryan’s shoulder. “They usually beat the shit out of me and leave. You’re a weird one,” he says, and Ryan huffs and kisses his head.

“This is not weird. This is what it has to be,” Ryan corrects him, and Brendon says something like ‘yeah, yeah, whatever’ and Ryan wants to bite his cheek to teach him not to mock him. He doesn’t.

Brendon stays silent for a minute, just there, breathing, his heart still a bit accelerated, his body gaining back temperature.

“Can you kiss me?” Brendon asks, looking up at Ryan. “Is that allowed?”

“You mean, like, on your head? Like I just did?” Ryan asks, and Brendon laughs a little.

“No. I mean like…” And just like that, he leans in and kiss Ryan, right on his lips, soft and almost sweet, just a second before he moves away.

“Oh. Um. Yeah. I mean,” Ryan bites his lips and giggles. Needless to say it’s not on purpose. Ryan’s kind of glad Brendon’s not a proper sub, because he’s sure as fuck giggling is not the best thing for a proper Dom. “It’s allowed, yeah. Like. You can do that. Uh. Yeah, that.”

“Okay.” Brendon smiles, looking at him. “Well, kiss me?”

“Oh. Oh, yeah. Okay.” Ryan swallows, and he kisses Brendon fast just to prevent Brendon from seeing him get all flushed red. He kisses him, holding his face and making it slow. This is aftercare after all. Brendon kisses him back right away, although it’s a tired, almost weak kiss. Ryan can still taste the blood on his lips. It sends shivers down his spine.

“Do I taste like chocolate?” Brendon asks when the kiss breaks, and Ryan laughs again.

“Yeah, you do.”

“You taste sweet too,” Brendon replies, and he snuggles back against him, lowering his head to make himself more confortable. “You didn’t have to do this for me. Thank you, sir.” Brendon says, his voice sleepy already. And Ryan wants to say he actually did have to, that it’s his duty to take care of his subs.

“Ryan,” he says instead. “My name’s Ryan.”

“Okay, Ryan.” Brendon nods, and even if he’s totally dozing off, Ryan’s sure he’s never heard his name sound so pretty.





Chapter Text



Brendon Urie is not submissive. He talks back, provokes, and doesn’t know how to be quiet. If you commands him something, he will mock you, if you humiliate him, he will laugh, and if you spit on him, he will open his mouth and swallow. Or maybe he’ll spit it back. It depends on his mood. However, if you slap his face, kick his ribs and fucks him dry, he will probably come so hard he’ll see white spot behind his eyelids. Brendon’s not a submissive. He’s just a pain slut. Or at least that’s what everybody calls him. Pain slut, smart-ass masochist, little fucking brat, asshole, son of a bitch, motherfucker, shut your mouth, gonna teach you a lesson. Brendon accepts it, all of it, he doesn’t give a fuck how they call him as long as he gets what he wants: pain.

It’s always been like this, it’s nothing new. Brendon remembers how his mother had to punish him sending him to his room because every time she tried to spank him he just burst into laughter. He’s glad it was just that at that time. It would have been weird as fuck sporting a boner over the lap of your mom. But as he grew up, things started getting more intense. He liked the feeling of hot water scalding his skin in the shower, he loved picking at the fresh scabs of his wounds, and he always waited anxious for his next dentist appointment, shivering just thinking about getting his braces adjustment. Then the tattoos came and Brendon just knew. Normal people don’t get hard with a needle piercing repeatedly their skin.

He started like everybody does, looking for videos on the internet. He learned then that watching people getting hurt didn’t turn him on, but it was nice knowing how far somebody could get when it came to pain. He learned too that, when it came to BDSM, people like him were submissive, but they also liked a lot of things that Brendon just didn’t found that appealing. He just liked pain, plain and simple. So much easier than any mental game the rest of the subs could need.

Or, apparently, not. Brendon found out that his type of sub was rare the first time he went to a BDSM club. Doms were not interested in subs like him, not when he couldn’t offer real submission. He remembers watching a sub taking more pain than he’d ever like inflicted on him, just because she was in that state of mind where everything blurs and you even forget your safe-word. Brendon hadn’t understand then why that girl could find a Dom, someone to hurt her that much he had to control every aspect of the situation not to hurt her badly, and he was still there, everyone declining his offers, when his needs were so much simple.

It was pure chance, the first time it happened. He wasn’t even thinking about it, just sipping at his drink and enjoying the show, thinking about the new things he had learned today and how to put them in practice at home by himself. Some guy came by and asked him something, he doesn’t remember what, and then said something about his lips, and how he’d love to make him kneel for him. Brendon was just tired of saying ‘green’ just to end up being rejected when they started talking about what they wanted before the scene, so he thought about saying ‘red’ and get it over with. Instead, he just said ‘beige’, and that fueled the flame faster than he ever thought.

At first they were just a few slaps, maybe a punch, and when the Doms understood that he wasn’t just being playful and he wasn’t going to be really submissive, they just called their safe-word and leave. It was enough for Brendon to come home and jerk off to it, anyway. With time, the beatings got harder as his mouth became sharper. Most of the time he ended up beaten to a pulp in the nearest alley, just needing to shove his hands in his jeans and stroke himself a few times to come all over his fist. Some other times, they fucked him too, shoving him against the dirty wall and calling him a dirty slut. Brendon prefers not to think about how those times the guys didn’t do it because he wanted it, what would have happened if he had said ‘red’ any of those times.

Of course, then came those days when Brendon plain hated himself, thinking he was worthless, feeling repulsed for the things he let them do to him. He learned too that those thoughts often happened during the sub-drop, and it was purely chemical, and imbalance of endorphins and adrenaline. It made sense. But also didn’t. Because Brendon knew the kind of people that were doing this to him, he knew it wasn’t safe, sane and consensual even if it seemed like it was. That’s the problem with masochist like him, knowing the difference between someone who beats you because you want them to beat you, and someone who beats you because they want to beat you.

He never thought he would meet someone like Ryan.

Ryan was one of the good ones, one of those Brendon always thought weren’t for him, that he didn’t deserve them. Ryan started like everyone else and ended like nothing Brendon had known in his entire life. He did everything good. He talked to him good, slapped him good, beat him so good and, God, yes, fucked him so, so good. Brendon had never experienced something like that even in his wildest fantasies. He didn’t know something like that was possible.

And then Ryan took care of him. Aftercare. And Brendon asked what that was and felt so stupid, he was so stupid Ryan thought that was his first time. Brendon thought that maybe Ryan would get mad at him or something, and he really, really wasn’t ready for someone to get mad at him at that moment. But Ryan kept talking slowly, explaining, and then he cleaned him up, wrapped him in a blanked, fed him, cuddled with him. Kissed him.




When Brendon opens his eyes, he’s still naked on Ryan’s bed, and Ryan’s still half clothed snuggled against him. Brendon knows this is a one-time thing; people like Ryan don’t keep subs, and especially not subs like him. Ryan said it himself, ‘I only do girls’, and Brendon’s just here because he got on his nerves enough for him to slap him across the face. Brendon wonders if Ryan would have been willing to see him again if he had been nicer. It doesn’t matter anyway, he can’t go back to the past, and he doubts he would able to be nicer anyway.

He’s hard, a casual morning wood he intents to make use of. Maybe he won’t see Ryan again after today, but as long as he’s in this bed, Ryan is his as much as he is Ryan’s.

He moves against Ryan thigh, rubbing himself and moaning, pushing his head in the hollow of Ryan’s neck and opening his lips against the skin, kissing, then biting. Ryan groans and hugs him closer, and Brendon smiles victorious.

“Ryan,” he calls, his lips making his way up, biting his jaw, biting his cheek. Ryan doesn’t open his eyes but he catches Brendon’s lips, kissing him rough and moving on top of him. “Ryan,” Brendon says again, but this time it sounds different, and Ryan opens his eyes and smiles a little, going back to his mouth and biting his lips, pushing his tongue to open them and get inside him. Brendon moves up, rolling his hip, brushing his hard cock against Ryan’s, feeling it starting to get interested. “Fuck me.”

“Yeah,” Ryan groans, kissing Brendon again at the same time he gets a hand between their bodies to get his cock out, stroking himself a couple of times until he’s grinding hard against Brendon. “I need to get the condoms,” he says, but he’s not moving away, he just keeps grinding against Brendon, breathing over his mouth, the rough fabric of Ryan’s jeans scratching Brendon’s skin and feeling so good.

“I got tested a week ago,” Brendon says, and he wants to pretend he doesn’t know why he said it but he does. “I get tested every month. You know. Wounds, blood,” he says, and Ryan looks at him closely, licking his lips and nodding.

“Yeah. Good boy. That’s a good boy.” Ryan kiss him rough, moving to slide his cock between Brendon’s ass cheeks, not pushing, just teasing. Brendon tries to move too, wanting, impatient, and Ryan laughs. “Want me to fuck you bare, good boy?”

“Yes. Come on.” It’s not just being bare. It’s the friction of skin against skin, fucking him open, no lubrication, making him take it.

“But you don’t know if I’m tested.”

“I trust you.” And for Brendon is hard to believe how true that statement is. Brendon doesn’t know him, they met not even 12 hours ago, and yet he feels like he can trust him. The first time Brendon learned what a Dom was, he read the sub had to trust the Dom completely. He never felt like that was possible. Maybe he never found a Dom until now.

Ryan pushes hard inside him, burying his cock in Brendon’s body up to the hilt, starting pounding him. It’s not the first time someone fucks Brendon bare, but it’s the first time he wants it so bad. His wounds sting when he starts to sweat, and it’s like a spark that ignites his inner fire.

“Ryan,” he calls him again, his nails digging into Ryan’s back, his body moving with him. “Please,” he says, waiting for Ryan to look at him in the eyes. “Make it hurt.”

“No,” Ryan answers, and keeps his pace as it is, doesn’t go faster, doesn’t do it harder. Brendon groans. It feels good, it does. But it’s not enough. “You’re too sore from yesterday.”

“I know. I know, but I like it,” he says, and tries to move against the bed to feel the sheets rough on the welts of his ass. “Ryan, make it hurt.”

“I said no,” Ryan grunts, and he kind of fucks him harder, kissing Brendon’s mouth and biting, making him moan. “I’ll do something. Just not yet. Be patient,” Ryan adds, and Brendon groans frustrated. He doesn’t want it later. He wants it now. What’s the difference? Why does he has to wait?

“Fuck no, come on.” He moves his hands from Ryan’s back, bringing them down to his own legs around Ryan’s waist, digging his nails on his own skin and scratching up, moaning.

“I said no, Brendon!” Ryan grunts, grabbing both of his hands and bringing them up, crossing them and pinning them together over Brendon’s head. And Brendon knows he’s stronger than Ryan, he should be able to get away, but Ryan seems to know what he’s doing, using his whole body to restrain him, digging his fingers in his wrist bones, rolling his hips to fuck him harder.

“Then wake me up when you’re done. Cause I’m gonna start snoring,” he replies, watching Ryan’s face to see if his words are effective. But Ryan just laughs, he laughs, and Brendon feels betrayed by his own method.

“Do you think I care?” Ryan asks, looking at him with genuine curiosity. “This is not about you enjoying it. This is about me using you. This is about you pleasing me. So you can go to sleep, sweetheart, I just need your hole tight around my cock.”

Brendon moans, and his cock twitches and leaves a wet spot where it presses against his stomach. And Brendon doesn’t know where this came from, he has no idea, but Ryan’s words are making him harder and the way he’s resisting his demands, the way he’s neglecting his needs to the point that it physically hurt is so new Brendon doesn’t know how to handle it.

He looks at Ryan fascinated, his whole body aching when Ryan never put a finger on it, his mind going crazy, the sensation feeling raw, on the edge. The rush, that rush, that load of endorphins he usually get when he’s being beaten up, it’s there but it’s different, but it’s there, but it’s so…

“What have you done to me?” He asks, blinking and opening his lips just to breathe. Ryan bites them both, hard.

“I’m not finished yet,” Ryan says, and then he moves his hand to Brendon’s neck fast, pressing, pinning him down, chocking him.

Brendon feels Ryan’s fingers press at the side of his neck, hard, precisely, and his whole body trembles. It’s like his whole nervous system gets on alert, even more than when he’s being beaten up. Ryan’s cutting the flow of oxygen that goes to his brain, and his skin starts feeling hypersensitive, tingling wherever Ryan touches him, bites him, fucks him.

Its’s good. It’s good, good, God, he feels it everywhere in his body. It’s so good, but at the same time is terrifying, and that only makes Brendon want it more, getting him so turned on he thinks he’s gonna pass out. Or maybe it’s the lack of oxygen. And then there’s Ryan’s eyes, Ryan’s look, the primal way he looks at him like he was his fucking prey and there was not way for him to escape. The way he looks at him like he wants to eat him alive. The look that says ‘you’re mine, and I can do anything I want with you, I can kiss you and I can break you, I can love you and I can kill you. And you would love every second of it’.

Brendon’s going to come. Right there. Being fucked and choked.

He’s going to come so hard.

The lack of air starts to get him dizzy, his eyelids fluttering and his mouth opening because, even if Ryan’s not pressing hard enough to cut the air getting in, his brain is getting less and less blood flow, and somehow his body’s responding the only way it knows. Like he’s drowning. Like he’s dying.

“Say my name again when you come,” Ryan bites hard below his ear, and Brendon feels open and used and abused and fuck, fuck fuck fuck.

“Ryan!” His voice is ragged, hurting when it comes out and he’s coming. His body’s coming. He is. Both of them. It’s like an out-of-body experience, like he’s levitating, floating, and the pleasure just overwhelms him. His muscles are tensing up, clenching, making Ryan feel huge inside him. And just when he thought he could get any more, Ryan releases his neck. And Brendon literally passes out.


He doesn’t know for how long he blacks out, maybe just a few seconds, but when he opens his eyes, Ryan’s there, still sweaty and shiny, a little smile on his face and a bottle of water in his hand.

“Welcome back,” he says, and Brendon takes the water, drinking it and noticing is room temperature. “Cold water’s not the best for your throat now.”

“Did you plan this?” he asks, and Ryan just shrugs, almost shy. Brendon doesn’t get it, how he’s able to get shy after what he’s just done.

“Maybe?” He says, touching Brendon’s skin lightly, like he’s checking something. “Want breakfast?” He asks, and Brendon closes his eyes and grunts. Why does this happen to him? He hates this guy.

“God, I hate you,” he says, and Ryan looks hurt for a moment.

“Why?” He asks, and he looks concerned. He looks concerned! Who the fuck is this guy? Brendon opens his eyes wider and shakes his head.

“No! I mean… I don’t really hate you, you know. Just…” I hate that you’re so fucking perfect. I hate thinking this after meeting you just yesterday. And I hate that I’m leaving your house and not seeing you again. I don’t hate you, I just hate what you make me feel. “It’s an expression.”

“Oh,” Ryan says, but he doesn’t seem to fully understand. Maybe he’s an alien and just doesn’t know that well the English language. That would explain the things he has managed to do to Brendon when he never, ever, though they were possible. “So, breakfast?”

“Sure.” Brendon wants to know what kind of breakfast aliens have.

So they get breakfast, and apparently aliens have Cheerios and coffee for breakfast. Ryan apologizes and says he didn’t expect any company this morning , if he knew someone was coming he’d have buy groceries. Brendon replies he didn’t know he was coming this morning either, and they both laugh at the bad joke.

Ryan offers to take him home, and Brendon’s glad he does because last night he was so nervous he didn’t pay any attention to where they were going. Brendon guess it’s okay to give his address to this complete stranger, since he let him fuck him bare barely hours ago. On the way home, Brendon learns Ryan’s a writer, and it kind of makes sense and it doesn’t at the same time.

“Hey! Um,” Ryan calls him when he’s about to get out of the car. “Do you want me to check on you this week? You know. To see that you’re doing okay.”

“Oh, cool,” Brendon nods before he understand what Ryan’s talking about. He just heard something about talking to him again, so that’s enough to agree. “That’d be nice, yeah.” He reaches for his wallet and get one of his business cards. “Here. That one at the bottom is my private number.”

“A cosmetologist, huh?” Ryan smiles a little. “Do you really use straight razors?” He says, pointing at the artwork of the card.

“I do. At work, too,” Brendon jokes, and Ryan chuckles. “Do you like them?”

“Never seen one,” Ryan answers. They stay in silence for a few seconds, Brendon wondering if he should ask Ryan if he would like to try them on him. Ryan speaks before he can decide. “Well, gotta go. I’ll text you soon, okay? See how you’re doing.”

“Awesome,” Brendon answers, and he waits for Ryan to go before getting inside home. So, this is how it’s going to be.





“He’s checking on me and everything, you know?” Brendon says, a wide grin spreading on his face, like he’s achieved something unbelievable. Pete laughs and pats him in the back.

“Awesome, dude. I’m happy for you,” Pete says, grinning too, and Patrick smiles sideways. Brendon met them at the club like a month after he started going. They’ve been a couple since God knows how long, but Patrick shares Pete with other Doms sometimes. Pete loves it. They have a classic Dom/sub relationship and, when Brendon met them, he thought that was the only BDSM dynamic that could really work between a couple.

“You found a good one,” says Patrick, taking a sip of his tea. “Is he keeping you?” he asks, and Brendon laughs.

“Do you mean if I am keeping him?” Brendon asks back, just to see Pete open his eyes wide. Pete always gets tense when Brendon provokes Patrick. Like Patrick gives a fuck about it. “Nah, I don’t think so. He’s just doing his job, being a great Dom and everything. But it was a one-time thing. And he mostly like girls, he only took me home because I beige-ed him,” he say, giggling. Patrick closes his eyes and sighs.

“I can’t believe you still do that. I can’t believe it worked with him. I already told you, if you keep doing that, you’re gonna end up getting injured. The kind of guys who respond to those provocations… They’re not Doms, Brendon.”

“Yeah, he told me the same,” Brendon makes a face, shrugging. “But it worked with him. Not all of them have to be bad. You classic Doms want nothing to do with my type, what should I do, then? Jack myself to death?”

“You can learn how to become a good sub.”

“Ha! That’s a good one.” Brendon laughs, and Patrick rolls his eyes. “Look. I’m not saying I can’t be submissive. I’m just saying if the guy’s gonna take control of me, he should at least work for it and give me what I want in exchange.”

“Yeah, that’s… not how being submissive works. At all.”

“Then fuck him, I want my pain,” Brendon says, and Patrick brings a hand to his face, shaking his head. “If it worked with Ryan, it could work with someone else. I mean, I graded his spanking and everything, and he never called out, he just gave me what I wanted, or not, but he played along. He did fucking awesome. I called him sir and everything in the end.”

“You graded his spankings??” Pete asks shocked, and Brendon knew that would be what it would catch his attention.

“And told him I was going to fall asleep while he fucked me. That didn’t work, though…”

“Dude, if I did something like that, Patrick would kill me,” Pete says, and Patrick laughs, stroking Pete’s hair.

“I wouldn’t kill you, baby,” he says, kissing Pete’s cheek and pulling a little at his hair. “But I’d make you wish I did.”

Brendon sees how Pete shivers and fights the urge of rolling his eyes. He wouldn’t be able to be in a relationship like that, where his partner made those public displays of domination. He wouldn’t help to talk back, mock him, challenge him. He couldn’t just lower his head and shut up. Maybe he’s not made to be in a relationship.

“We’ve been even sexting a little. Not too much,” says Brendon, cutting the moment that his friends were having, making them pay attention back to him. “I told him I had just used the straight razor and thought about him using it. He said that would be dangerous and I asked him if he was that bad at shaving.” Brendon laughs when Patrick makes a disgusted face. “He told me he would carve his name in my chest,” he adds, and smirks. “He’s good. But he’s been mostly just really attentive and stuff.”

“You should keep it, or try it, at least,” says Patrick. “Even if it’s just to have fun together now and then. He’s the healthiest Dom you’re gonna find for someone like you around here. Trust me. I know they kind that go to the club. There’s a very few Doms in the community that know how to handle or even want to handle someone like you.”

Yeah, Brendon knows that, he knows finding someone like Ryan is going to be difficult, even more finding multiple Doms like Ryan, if he wants to keep this one-time thing going on. Only Brendon never though he’d had a Dom and he’s not sure about how to ask. Somehow, after all this time being an obnoxious fuck, he finds it difficult to ask for things nicely, and he can’t trick Ryan into keeping him the same way he can trick him into beating him up.

As the week comes to his end, Brendon tries to keep spicing up his conversations via text with Ryan, getting them into some kind of scene through the phone and then asking him if another week of aftercare would be required. He guesses that’s easier for him than telling Ryan he wants to keep in touch. It backfires, though.

“Was it that intense?” Ryan asks. “Do you think you need it?”

“Please, don’t be silly. I’d drop harder if I hit my pinky on the edge of the table,” Brendon says, and he instantly regrets it. Why did he have to say that? The scene is over, they were just talking. Why did he have to provoke him again? How does that help him to keep Ryan?

“Oh. Well,” Ryan chuckles, and then clears his throat. “Then I guess you don’t need me anymore,” he says, and Brendon swallows, his head working fast in the best way of saying: ‘I do. I kind of do need you. I’d like to keep you, if that’s okay with you’. He’s stuck. His tongue doesn’t work. “Bye, Brendon. It was nice talking to you.”

“Yeah, same,” he says, and like that, the call ends.




Chapter Text




Z Berg is one of the few persons in the word that Ryan trust his life with, mostly because they’ve been friends since Ryan was a teen, but also because he has already put his life in Z’s hands. In multiple occasions. That’s what happens when you’re young and you discover that you maybe are a little too much into kinky shit but you’re too shy to try anything with some stranger. Z was already into BDSM when Ryan asked her if she would mind doing some research with him, some experimenting.

The thing is, Ryan never was really closed-minded when it came to sex, for him something so wide as sex shouldn’t have too many hard limits. When it came to enjoying himself, Ryan liked to be as open to new things as possible. That’s what he told Z the first time she said she wouldn’t be on the receiving end of anything. She was a Domme, a Mistress, so she could teach him everything about being a Dom, but she wouldn’t let him practice. If he wanted to experiment with her, he would have to take the submissive role. Ryan accepted.

Only after being a really, really obliging sub, Ryan managed to convince Z to let him switch. He just wanted to practice some bondage first, then some spanking, until bit by bit he could take the dominant role at its fullest. And then something happened, and it both made Ryan realize he was completely a Dom and made Z flip him off and tell him their experimentation scenes were over for good.

Surprisingly, their friendship grew stronger than Ryan could have thought, and Z became one of the most important people in his life. The one he can talk to about anything, gossip or ask for advice.




“I met a S.A.M last week,” Ryan says, watching her lie on her lounge chair. Summer is coming and she wants to catch some rays before the weather is too hot for her snow-white skin. She looks at him and laughs, taking her cigarette holding to his lips.

“Good God, at the club?” She asks, and Ryan nods. Z never goes to clubs. She’s in one of those ladies private societies. Z took Ryan as her sub there once. He’s never seen so many high heels together in his life. “Remember when Gabe said he was into BDSM and started acting like a bratty sub? It was funny… until it became embarrassing.” Ryan remembers. Gabe tried to push Z into dominating him until she actually did. That day Gabe discovered he wasn’t really into BDSM, he was just a voyeur. “So? What happened with this SAM? You better tell me you walked away fast. SAMs can be dangerous, they can get the worst of you and make you do stupid things.”

“I took him home, actually,” Ryan says with a guilty face, chuckling and biting his lip. “It was… interesting.”

“Interesting? If you find interesting that…” Z stops herself, taking off her black round sunglasses and looking at Ryan. “Wait, did you say ‘him’? You took him home??” Ryan laughs and Z opens her eyes wider.

“I… I don’t know, he got on my nerves! I didn’t even though about it, I just wanted to teach him some manners,” Ryan shrugs. “But it wasn’t that bad. I mean, yeah, he was totally disrespectful, but… Z, you should have seen him. He was moaning while receiving the blows. He took the beating so well.”

“Of course he took it well, Ryan. He’s a masochist. He didn’t do it well because he wanted to please you. That motherfucker was having the time of his life,” Z says, and Ryan laughs. “It’s not funny. You got played by a SAM. It’s embarrassing.”

“His name’s Brendon. And he was actually kinda cute, once he shut his mouth. Like one of those crazy kids shouting and running around until they fall asleep exhausted.”

“Like a kid…” Z raises an eyebrow. “So, what, are you a Daddy now?”

That is not funny.” Ryan deadpans and now it’s Z’s time to laugh. “But he was kinda innocent. Z, he didn’t know what aftercare was. He’s been taking beatings from Doms who then just left him there, and he thought that was okay,” he explains, and Z makes a face, giving her cigarette a puff.

“Those weren’t Doms, Ryan.” She sighs, looking away. “I know SAMs are infuriating, but any Dom I know would have just walked away. Whoever did that to him can’t call himself Dom.”

“But they do. They’re not Doms, but they are. You know what I mean,” Ryan says, licking his lips and letting out a deep breath, looking up at the sky. “I just… I don’t like thinking he’s going to deal with that until he finds someone decent.”

“It’s not like you can do anything about it. What are you gonna do? Take him home again, make him yours, be the first Dom to collar a SAM?” Z laughs, but it fades when she sees Ryan’s expression. “Are you really thinking about it?” She asks, shocked. “You can’t tame a SAM, Ryan. Jesus, you don’t even do guys!”

“I know, I know, I don’t… I stopped talking to him, okay? Once I knew he was doing good. It’s over. I was just saying.”

It’s over.

Even if he still keeps Brendon’s card in his wallet.




Ryan lets a week pass before going to the club again. He’s just not in the mood to look for someone new. He calls Kate and they meet a couple of times. They’re friends with benefits, more benefits than friends, but they both know either of them can call if they’re in the mood for having some fun. It felt good to get his role back, to be a proper Dom. She loves to please him and he loves to use the ropes on her body, twisting her limbs and making knots, creating art on her, with her.

With Kate, with girls, with his girls, the game is always more mental than physical. Sometimes it’s not even sexual, just a power play, dominance and submission. He likes to control and his sub likes to be controlled. Every piece fall into place easily.

Maybe too easily.

He could lie and say he doesn’t think about Brendon that whole week. He does. He thinks about him and thinks about calling him and thinks about going to the club hoping to meet him there again. He doesn’t miss the way Brendon get on his nerves, of course not, but he does miss the sensation of having no limits, knowing he can do whatever he wants to and Brendon just will accept it, he will love it.

“I’ll go with you,” Z says when he talks about going back to the club that night. Ryan snorts a laugh. “Just to see how everything’s going. It’s been ages since I’ve been there.”

“You want to make sure I don’t see him again, right?” Ryan asks, and she just shrugs with a smile. “You’re not my Mistress, Z.”

“I am, just a little,” she smirks, and Ryan flips her off.

She’s wearing her full on angelic look when they get to the club, turning heads as she walks by, no one knowing that she’s dressed to kill. Z likes those mental games, using white sheer blouses and red lipstick, bohemian braids in her hair. But you just need to take a look at her heels to know she’s going to step on you with them.

They order their drinks and walk around a little. It’s Teacher’s Night, so there are a lot of glasses and rulers and plaid skirts. The stage has a few desks on it tonight, and everybody’s welcomed to get in there and bend someone (or get bent) over one of them for a spanking. Ryan laughs when Z says she’s glad there’s no alcohol allowed in here, because she would totally get up there and spank someone after a few cocktails.

She doesn’t spank anyone. But then they come across a scene where a blindfolded slave is praising his Mistress, worshipping her shoes, and Z just can’t resist it when the Domme asks if someone wants to join her. Ryan takes the chance to look around while Z is busy digging her heels in that sub’s balls. He’s not looking for Brendon, but he wouldn’t mind spotting him in the distance, just to see he’s doing fine.

Brendon’s not there. At least Ryan can’t see him. Maybe he doesn’t come here that often, Ryan wouldn’t know. He tries to stop thinking about it and starts paying more attention to the girls in the room. He could use the distraction tonight, since Z won’t make the trick. There are a couple of them Ryan thinks he could try talking to, and he does, but there’s something missing, something that doesn’t make them click. By the time Z’s done torturing her borrowed slave, Ryan’s frustrated and bored.

“Let’s get out of here.”

Z is exchanging phone numbers with the Mistress, laughing, but she nods, and they walk out of the club as soon as she finishes what she’s doing. He would have gone already if he had his car, he knows Z wouldn’t have minded at all, but they both came together.

The car is parked barely a few steps from the main door of the club, and Z’s already waiting at the passenger door, talking about how much fun she had, when something catches Ryan’s attention. He wouldn’t have notice if he were listening to Z but, as much as he’s glad she had a good time, he’s not in the mood right now to hear how he’s the only one miserable here.

“Wait a minute, okay?” He says, and he doesn’t wait for her to answer when he walks away from the car.

Maybe he’s just seen him once, but Ryan’s brain has memorized Brendon’s lines, his figure, the way he moves. He’s wearing the same leather jacket than the day they met, and is sitting on the sidewalk, his side towards Ryan. It’s just when Ryan gets closer when he sees it. Brendon is bleeding through his nose and a wounded lip. His hair’s disheveled and his clothes are unkempt. He’s smoking, and both his fingers and the bottom of the cigarette have bloodstains in them.

“Ryan. Hey,” he says when Ryan gets close enough for him to notice his presence. He smiles crooked, licking his lips and taking a drag, looking past Ryan at his car, where Z’s waiting. “What’s up?”

“What are you doing here?” Ryan asks, and it’s the first thing that crosses his mind, and he probably should have said something else before, but. He just. He’s in shock.

“Sitting. Smoking. Trying to get rid of the taste of cock in my mouth. Motherfucker fucked my face to shut me up. Didn’t like that…” He says, chuckling and taking a drag of his cigarette. “He had a nice swing, though.”

Ryan swallows, wishing he didn’t hear all that is wrong with what Brendon just said. He looks back at Z for a moment, who’s now talking to someone else, and he sits near Brendon, looking at him closely. He’s a mess, whoever did this wasn’t trying to tame him. This was just plain violence.

“Brendon. You should go home,” Ryan says, touching his arm carefully. “You shouldn’t be in the street in your state.”

“Yeah, well. It’s not like I can drive, either,” Brendon laughs, looking at Ryan and bringing his cigarette to his lips, taking a drag and blowing the smoke at him. “It’s okay, Ryan. I’ve been here before. In fact, that alley is like my private dungeon.” He laughs, snorting loudly and spitting blood on the pavement, wiping his mouth with the back of his hand.

“You shouldn’t be smoking with that wound on your lip,” Ryan says, ignoring what Brendon just said. “It can get infected. It needs to get clean.”

“I’ll do it. I’ll do it, I promise,” Brendon nods, but he smokes again, letting his head fall a little, blinking. “I just… I need a moment,” he says, closing his eyes before looking at Ryan. “I’m too tired right now.”

Ryan has heard enough.

“Okay, I’m taking you home. Come on,” he says, holding Brendon under his arms and helping him get up, looking at him in the eyes to get his attention. “Can you walk? Where are your keys? We’re taking your car. My friend would need mine to get home. Where did you park?”

“You ask too many questions…” Brendon says, and chuckles, taking his car keys from the pocket of his jacket and giving them to Ryan. “My car’s just around the corner. The red BMW,” he says, and Ryan rolls his eyes thinking ‘of course’.

They walk past Z, who looks at them with an unimpressed face, and Ryan toss his car keys to her, muttering an ‘I’m sorry’. Ryan feels better when Z sighs but she nods, walking around his car to get on the driver seat. Brendon’s car is not far either, and Ryan allows himself to take a deep breath and let it out once they’re both inside. The inside of the car looks so clean it’s almost like new, and Ryan touches the wheel and the gears, trying to get used to it before starting the engine.

He remembers Brendon address, as creepy as that can sound, so he doesn’t need to ask for directions before getting on the way. Brendon doesn’t say anything for a while, and that’s new for someone who doesn’t seem to know when to shut up. He looks tired. He looks like there’s a lot going on in his head. And he’s staring at Ryan, his head turned to his side, his eyes fixed on him. Ryan pays attention to the road.

“Why are you doing this for me?” Brendon asks with a soft voice, and Ryan looks at him just a second, at his split lip and his bloody nose, at the way that he just seems to accept this is the only thing he can get. And Ryan wants to answer that he doesn’t know why, that he’s not sure, that maybe he reminds him of himself, when he was a kid and his father used him as a punching bag before leaving him alone to take care of the mess. He doesn’t, though, because he doesn’t like the stereotype that says BDSM people are damaged, even if it’s true in his personal case.

“You need to be taken care of.” That’s what he answers instead.

“I’m not your sub, Ryan,” he says, not like he’s complaining but like he wanted to remind Ryan this is not his job. He doesn’t have to do this. “I’m not yours.”

You could be. Or not. Yeah, probably not. Ryan doesn’t know. Everything is so… Yeah, maybe he couldn’t, but. He could. He could try. They could.

“I don’t care.”




“So you’re babysitting him now,” Z says, and Ryan wants to say it’s not like that, but he really is taking care of the damage another Dom has done to Brendon, so yeah, he is babysitting him. “I don’t get it. He’s not even your friend. You just fucked him once.” Twice, in fact. “Doesn’t he have any friends to do that, to take care of him? Only it’ll be fair if they didn’t want to, because the guy was asking for it. Literally.”

“He’s just a kid, Z,” Ryan says, and he’s not really a kid, he can’t be too much younger than Ryan himself. But he seems so defenseless. “Just because he likes getting hurt doesn’t mean he should get hurt like that. And it doesn’t mean he doesn’t deserve someone taking care of him. You should have seen him, Z, how he looked at me while I was cleaning the wound on his lip.”

And you should have seen me.

Ryan wanted to kiss him so bad. Just that. Just kiss him. Cradle his face and take his lips on his own, soft and tender, tasting antiseptic and blood. He didn’t know how to do it. It’s been so long without asking for the things he wants, just taking them, that he forgot how to do that, how to ask for permission. He wanted to say ‘can I kiss you?’ but his voice, his throat, his tongue didn’t know how to cooperate.

He didn’t do anything. He tucked Brendon in bed and stroked his hair until he fell asleep. When Ryan got home, he saw bloodstains on his clothes, and thought about if things would have been different if he had called Brendon that night instead of going to the club, if he would have ended up with his clothes stained of blood for a whole different reason.

Ryan promised Brendon he would come back the day after. And the day after that. And the day after that. He watched Brendon get ready for work, putting on makeup where the bruises were too obvious. “Cosmetologist, remember?” Brendon had said, and Ryan had laughed but also wondered if that’s the reason why Brendon chose his career.


“Do you know what’s worst than the drop?” Brendon asks. They’re in the park and Brendon’s eating Rocky Road ice cream. He needs to go back to work in an hour or so. Ryan will stay and try to write some of the reviews he has pending. “The moment I know I will go back there for more. When the need is so strong I don’t care knowing I will feel like shit the moment is over.” He licks his ice cream, making a face, chuckling. “I feel like a junkie.”

“You don’t need to go back there,” Ryan says, and he looks at Brendon, looks at his ice cream, looks at the healing wound of his lip. “I mean. You don’t need to go there when you feel like that. That’s not your only option,” he says, and Brendon looks at him, something dark hiding behind his clear eyes. Ryan’s brain is working fast, trying to choose what to say next. You can call me. I’m available. Would you like to… We can work something out. I want to be there for you. Do you want me to… “Come home after work.”

That’s an order. It sounded like an order. It sounded sure and confident and all of the things that Ryan is not right now. He waits for Brendon to laugh, to tell him not to be so cocky and full of himself, or to embarrass him somehow in his Brendon-style.

“Okay,” Brendon says instead, and Ryan’s stomach twists and turns.

Needless to say he doesn’t get to write a single word once Brendon leaves.

He goes home almost immediately, his mind picturing so many scenarios but all of them not being good enough. He wants to do this well, now that he has time to create a great scene for Brendon, for them. He prepares the room and sets up everything he’ll need, he turn off the lights and light up some candles he’s sure he will use for something more than just illumination. He calls Z and asks her if she minds lending him a box of hypodermic needles.

“He’s coming, right?” She asks when she leans on the frame of the door and hands Ryan the box. She got him the finest one for beginners.

“That’s my plan, yeah.”

Z teaches him for about an hour about how to use the needles, where to use them. He watches a few videos and reads a lot of guides. Then he gets a shower, scrubs himself clean and puts on his best attire. Then he watches more videos, just in case.

As the time of Brendon coming gets closer, Ryan starts to worry if his intentions were clear enough when he told Brendon to come. His heart starts racing thinking about what would happen if Brendon just thought he was coming as a friend. When the bell rings, Ryan swallows.

“Hey,” Brendon greets him, and Ryan smiles when he sees him. He’s not wearing the same clothes he was wearing when Ryan saw him this afternoon. He’s dressed up, his hair styled and his eyes shiny.

“Shall we begin?” Ryan asks, moving aside for Brendon to step in.

“Let’s see what you can do.”




“First thing first,” Ryan says the moment they get to the room, moving behind Brendon and putting a red silk scarf as a blindfold over his eyes, wrapping it over and tying it up hard, making Brendon hiss. “You like pain, baby? I’m gonna make you feel it till you scream.”

“Yeah, I’d like to see that. Oh, wait…” he giggles, laughing at his own bad joke.

“Oh, wait,” Ryan repeats, and he takes a ball gag, pushing the rubber sphere into Brendon’s mouth, fastening the strap behind his head. “Did I forget to tell you the only thing that will come out of your mouth would be the spit you’ll drool all over yourself?”

Brendon bites the ball hard and grunts, but he doesn’t try to get away when Ryan starts to undress him, taking off his jacket and shirt, leaving them well folded over the chest of drawers. Ryan wants him naked, wants him vulnerable before he gets to tie him up. This time he does tie Brendon in the reverse prayer position, and Brendon squirms when Ryan tightens the rope around his arms, bringing his elbows impossibly close to his body.

The collar he puts around Brendon’s neck has a leash attached to it, and Ryan uses it to yank Brendon down, making him fall on his knees with a groan, hitting hard the granite floor. He makes Brendon walk like that, watching him bite the gag because sure as hell he would love to say something right now, and takes him near the bed, where he has prepared the instruments he would need. He can see Brendon’s cock getting interested, his body fighting against the rough rope, trying to get out when it’s impossible, the friction burning the skin.

“Have you ever played with needles, Brendon?” Ryan asks, and he can see Brendon shiver, his breath rushing up. Ryan tugs at the leash when Brendon doesn’t answer, and he smiles when Brendon shakes his head no. “Shake your head if you want to stop, if it’s too much.”

He wonders if the snap of the rubber gloves as he puts them on makes Brendon feel the same as him, his blood running faster through his veins, the smile on his face getting sharper. He places his hands in Brendon’s chest and moves then down carefully, rubbing his thumbs over his belly, knowing where he needs to start. The smell of the alcohol fills up the room when Ryan uses it on Brendon’s skin, slowly and deliberated, and he can see Brendon shivering under his fingers, impatient, almost eager.

It’s the first time Ryan hears Brendon scream, low and hoarse, biting the ball hard, when he pushes the needle through the skin of his navel. He does it slow, wanting Brendon to feel every little inch of it. He observes how every hair on Brendon’s body stands on end, and Ryan feels a rush of endorphins running through his veins.

By the time he pushes in the second needle, Brendon’s breath is erratic, his muscles clenching, and Ryan starts to feel dizzy. It’s too much, too intense, and he needs to stop and breathe for a second. He’s hard inside his pants, and Brendon’s cock’s already leaking, shiny drops rolling down his shaft.

Ryan moves behind him, pushing him hard but holding the leash so Brendon don’t fall face down, letting him press his face on the floor carefully. He holds Brendon’s hips up, touching his ass cheeks softly before smacking them both at the same time. It’s weird, spanking him with rubber gloves. Ryan would like to take them off, but he still needs them.

“Don’t you feel empty around here, sweetheart?” Ryan asks, touching the ring of muscle with his thumbs, pushing lightly. Brendon says something, or he tries, pushing against Ryan’s hands. Surprisingly, Ryan finds himself wanting to hear the remarks Brendon would make about his work.

He takes a vibrating plug, not bothering using lube before shoving it deep inside Brendon, turning it on. Ryan plays with him just a little, scratching the skin of Brendon’s ass with a needle, creating pink trails up and down before pinning one, two, three needles in each buttock. He stops for a moment to observe Brendon. He’s a mess.

The moans and grunts fill up the room, Brendon shivering, trembling, his fingers tangled together hard and his cock twitching like crazy. Ryan could come like this, just looking at him, and he takes off the gloves to pull down his zipper and get out his cock, stroking himself while he watches the show.

When he pours down hot wax over the needles and skin, Brendon is completely gone. He’s screaming, and laughing and moaning and crying out loud. The floor is wet with his spit that drools down his forced open mouth, and when Ryan starts removing the needles, Brendon comes. Just like that, not a single touch on his cock, just the plug deep inside him and Ryan’s hands rubbing his ass cheeks to make the wax come off.

He moves Brendon back up and removes the needles from his navel carefully after taking the plug out. He cradles his face and wipes the spit running down his chin. His lips look full and beautiful wrapped around the ball, but Ryan takes the gag off before kissing them, leaving it hanging around Brendon’s neck.

“You’re so pretty,” Ryan says, caressing his cheeks, speaking over his lips. “But I’m going to make you prettier for me,” he adds, moving to open a drawer and take what he needs. He’s been obsessing with getting Brendon’s bloodstains on his body since that time he cleaned Brendon’s cut lip. He knows he’s not trained enough for heavy blood play but, in the meantime, he can do something else to fill that gap.

He holds Brendon’s jaw firm before he starts applying red lipstick on his already red, full mouth. It looks obscene, his eyes blindfolded and his lips painted red, his mouth open, still fighting for air. Ryan kisses him again, rougher, harder, putting his arms around him to start untangling the ropes.

“Kiss me,” he says, letting the ropes fall on the floor, tugging at the leash to make Brendon lean over him. “Worship me. Mark me.” He groans when Brendon’s lips crashes over his neck, his tongue coming out to play, his teeth scrapping.

“You’re so bossy,” Brendon says with a wrecked voice, and Ryan laughs out loud because he can’t believe after all he’s done, Brendon’s able to keep pushing him. He keeps kissing him, though, Ryan guiding him with a fist on his hair, Brendon’s fingers opening Ryan’s shirt to kiss his way down Ryan’s chest.

Brendon bites sometimes, and Ryan pulls at his hair to move him away and slap him. Brendon laughs every time. Ryan makes him press his nose against the shaft of his cock, and Brendon opens his lips, kissing, sucking, leaving red marks all over it.

“Gonna use you,” Ryan says, touching Brendon’s lips with the tip of his cock, smearing pre-come all over them. “Gonna fuck your mouth, sweetheart.”

He pushes his cock down Brendon’s throat with no mercy, biting down a moan when he finds, sweet lord Jesus Christ, how good it feels having those lips around him. Brendon’s good. Brendon’s so good he manages to get Ryan over the edge in barely minutes, sucking and licking and letting Ryan fuck his throat, taking it whole. Ryan can’t believe it. He can’t. And his eyes roll back as he thrust, thrust, thrust until he’s coming, hot and thick down Brendon’s throat.

Ryan can’t breathe for a moment, and he feels like he’s going to fall on his knees anytime soon. He holds himself on Brendon’s shoulders, closing his eyes and filling up his lungs. He looks at Brendon like he’s something out of this world. He must be. Ryan touches Brendon’s lips, raw and swollen, and pushes two fingers inside, just to touch his tongue with the tip.

“Do you need a cigarette to get rid of the taste of my cock?” Ryan asks, using the same words he heard Brendon say that time. “How does your Master taste, Brendon?” He asks, and he knows he’s playing with fire there, because Brendon can decide not to please him and ruin the end of the scene. Ryan always liked risky things, anyway.

Brendon looks up even if he’s not really looking, sucking at Ryan’s fingers before he lets them slide out with a groan, then licks his lips, biting them.

“Actually,” he says, smiling sideways, “you’re fucking delicious, sir.”

Ryan falls down on his knees right there, grabbing Brendon’s face to kiss him, opening his mouth and pushing his tongue inside. He wants to devour him, to make him his own, to mark him so deep inside Brendon can’t live without him. But Brendon kisses him as hard, as rough, and something twist in Ryan’s gut when he realizes that’s exactly what Brendon’s doing to him. Marking him. Owning him.

“I’m gonna take this off, okay?” He says, whispering against Brendon’s lips, untying the scarf around his eyes, unwrapping it carefully. Ryan kiss Brendon’s forehead when the blindfold falls on the floor, and Brendon opens a smile before opening his eyes.

“Thank you,” he says softly, and Ryan nods and kisses his lips again, stroking Brendon’s temples where the fabric has left a mark.

“Yeah. Sorry,” he says, because he guesses Brendon’s thanking him for taking it off. Maybe he tied it too tight. He needs to learn to do this better.

“No. No, Ryan. Thank you,” Brendon says again, moving closer, swallowing and touching Ryan’s face, his lips. “That was amazing.”

“Yeah?” Ryan face lights up.

“Yeah,” Brendon smiles, chuckling. “You’re amazing.”

Ryan just kisses him again.




Chapter Text




Brendon had a boyfriend once, when he was a teen. He was hot, strong, and four years older than him. He was one of those guys who think jealous and protective means the same, that to be in a relationship means you need to be together 24/7, to know where the other person is, what they’re doing, why, how. He thought being with someone meant controlling them.

Brendon always had a problem with people trying to control him.

He never obliged. If the guy told him not to talk to some friend, Brendon kept talking to them; if he got mad about Brendon laughing too loud at someone else’s joke, he laughed louder; and if he hit him because Brendon complained about all of this, Brendon complained even more and dared him to hit him harder.

Yeah, some might call it an abusive relationship. Well, it was. Only Brendon was too young back then to understand that, even if he liked it when that guy hit him, it didn’t mean it was the right thing to do. He will always remember the time his mom saw them fight; saw how the guy slapped him across his face. Brendon has never seen the woman so furious. He truly though she might end up killing him, using his dad old 45. He got so mad for all the wrong reasons, told his mom she was crazy for wanting to hurt his boyfriend. That was when he knew there was something wrong with him, when he saw his mom cry after he explained that if was his fault, that he had provoked him. She told him no one who really loved him would ever hurt him like that, no matter how much he provoked them.

And of course, of course, he’s not stupid, he knows what she meant, he knows the poor woman didn’t know her son was a freak. But, somehow, those words got stuck inside his head, and as much as he didn’t want them to affect him, he knew they were mostly true. No one who really loves someone would hurt them like Brendon likes to be hurt. And after discovering the BDSM community, after finding out that there were people capable of loving and hurting at the same time, doing it consensually, he soon realized that wasn’t for him, either. He wasn’t enough for that. He wasn’t worth it.




It’s weird. They’re under the shower, Ryan kissing him, touching him, washing his hair, soaping up his skin carefully where the welts still sting, doing all of those things he calls aftercare. They’re under the shower, the last scene so fulfilling he’s sore in all the right places, tired, his sassiness long forgotten, he won’t need it for a while. It’s weird, because, if Brendon closes his eyes and stops paying attention, if he closes his eyes and just allows himself to feel, it almost feels like something he would call love.

Ryan doesn’t love him. It’d be ridiculous. It’s been just a month since that first time they met and Brendon decide to beige him, barely a week since they started seeing each other regularly and Brendon almost forgot the meaning of that color. Ryan has gotten new toys for him, and he’s gotten better using the needles too. Brendon hates a little the fact that his pain tolerance has increased too, but he feels that won’t be a problem between them.

“Sorry about this,” Ryan says, touching with the tip of his fingers the circular little burn a little over Brendon’s left nipple. Brendon laughs, remembering how Ryan was about to pour hot wax on him but then he blew the candle after saying ‘happy birthday to me!’ and Ryan got so mad he pressed the burning hot candle against Brendon’s skin right away. “I hope it doesn’t leave a scar.”

“Why? I like scars,” Brendon says, looking down at the mark. “They remind me things that happened. If this one stays, then you’ll always be here,” he says, touching the place on his chest. He realizes his gesture could be mistaken easily, since he just put his hand over his heart, but he doesn’t correct himself. “You need to stop apologizing for doing things I like,” he says, smiling and looking at Ryan’s eyes. “I like it, Ry. You’re not a bad person for doing this to me,” he adds too. He’s been reading about aftercare and sometimes Doms can drop too and have feelings of guilt. Brendon wants to be as good for Ryan as Ryan is for him.

“Okay,” Ryan nods, smiling. “You’re really good to me, you know? I think you’re the best sub I’ve ever had.”

“Oh, really?” Brendon laughs, and he feels his cheeks getting a little flushed red. “I don’t think that speaks well of you. Or the rest of your subs.”

“Yeah, I think it does,” Ryan says, looking at him, just looking, his hands still over Brendon’s chest, stroking. Brendon wonders if the temperature of the water has changed, because he gets goosebumps. “You’re a mouthy fuck, but that doesn’t make you any less good. You are really awesome.”

“You should have gagged me again…” Brendon says, and he doesn’t know why he does. His signature mark is his witty remarks, the way he provokes, the way he challenges, the way he doesn’t just submit. When Ryan gags him, he loses all his power over Ryan. He actually hates being gagged. He can’t believe he just recommended Ryan to do that.

“I’m gonna tell you a secret, if you promise not to tell Z, or other Doms, but mostly just Z,” Ryan says, getting closer, his arms wrapping around Brendon’s waist, caressing softly. Brendon has to blink when he feels his cock getting interested. Ryan is caressing him. He’s being soft and sweet. Why? How? It doesn’t make any sense, but he shivers when Ryan puts his lips below his ear and whispers. “I kinda like it, how you push me, how you make me lose my nerves, how that makes me do unthinkable things to you. And I like how you love it. You love it so bad.”

“I do. Fuck, I…” He looks down at his body, at his cock hard and pressed against Ryan’s belly. “Shit.”

“It’s fine,” Ryan chuckles, pressing his nose against Brendon’s damp hair, moving a hand to trace the length of his cock. “What me to take care of it?”

“Yeah. I just. I don’t think I’m ready yet for another…” Ryan stops him with a kiss, shushing him against his lips and starting to stroke him softly.

“It’s okay,” he whispers. “I don’t need a scene to make you feel good, right? I don’t need to hurt you to make you come. Right, Brendon?” Ryan asks, stroking a little bit faster, harder, better. Brendon swallows and nods. He guesses so, yeah. Because he wouldn’t be able to bear more pain right now, but he wants to come so bad. “We don’t need as scene, this is not a scene. This is you and me, just you and me.” Brendon groans and close his eyes, his lips opening when Ryan’s mouth press against them.

He’s never come like this, with a hand around his cock while he’s being kissed with need against the tiles of a shower, his legs feeling weak and the taste of Ryan’s mouth being so intoxicating it makes him dizzy. This is the first time he comes without pain. This is also the first time Brendon feels totally owned by Ryan.

The tingling feeling on Brendon’s skin last while they get out of the shower, and Ryan covers him with a towel and blows his hair dry. Brendon doesn’t say a word while Ryan applies some lotion to his wounds and offers him clean clothes, taking him then to the living room and wrapping him in a cozy blanket. Today it’s chilly outside, and Brendon snuggles on Ryan’s couch, using Ryan’s lap as a pillow while Ryan reads a book.

He feels like there’s a lot going on in his head, but it’s too deep down to reach anything, to understand any thought, so it actually seems like his mind is empty. Or maybe not empty, but… at peace. Brendon doesn’t remember the last time he felt like this, like he could just rest for a while, not worrying about anything. Ryan pets his head when he finishes the book and turns on the TV, his fingers moving softly through Brendon’s locks of hair. It feels too nice to be real. Just being there, warm and relaxed.

“Who’s Z?” he asks when one of his thoughts highlights in his mind, remembering Ryan’s words. I’m gonna tell you a secret, if you promise not to tell Z. Ryan looks down at him and Brendon moves his head to look up, Ryan’s fingers now resting on his forehead.

“Oh. Well, do you remember the girl in white that was with me the second time we met at the club? The one I lend my car to?” Ryan asks, and Brendon remembers. He does, because he thought back then that she was Ryan’s new distraction. “That’s Z.”

“Is she your girlfriend or something?” Brendon asks again, because he wants to know, and he watches carefully how Ryan raises his eyebrows and laughs, shaking his head no.

“She’s my best friend. Since forever. It’s true we had a thing, but…” Ryan stops himself, looking at Brendon and changing his expression. “You know what? I’m gonna meet her today. Wanna come with me?”

“Yes,” he answers straightforward and directly before he can think about why he’s so interested in meeting this Z girl. Ryan just smiles and says something like ‘cool’ before he goes back to watch TV and pet Brendon’s hair.




“So this is the guy you’re nailing, right?” Z winks at Ryan and smirks at Brendon, and Brendon thinks he would have liked her if he had met her in any other context.

“It’s just needles for now, but I’m open to new experiences. Crucifixion sounds real fun,” says Brendon with half a smile. “You got a problem with that, Miss?”

“I prefer Mistress, although I bet coming for you I’d have to settle for the muffled sound of you being gagged,” she quickly replies, and honestly, Brendon hates he can’t like her because, damn, she’s good. “He is a mouthy fuck, isn’t he?” Z asks Ryan this time, looking equally amused and shocked, and Brendon wonders how much has Ryan talked about him with this girl. “And I already know how experimental you are, where do you think this one here gets his needles from? I’m so responsible for your orgasms I think you owe me a boot licking session.”

Brendon opens his eyes wide and shoots Ryan a questioning look. Ryan looks like he’s going to apologize for a moment, but he just bites his lip and chuckles. Brendon wrinkles his nose but he doesn’t really complain. At least now he knows how much Ryan has talked about him.

Z’s house looks fancy and classy, like the kind of house you would expect from someone who likes to step on dude’s faces and torture cocks and balls. Brendon thinks Patrick would probably like her; they would plan outrageous things together, for sure. She offers them a drink and they sit in her back yard while she goes inside to look for what Ryan came here to take.

“It’s a secret,” Ryan smiles when Brendon asks what it is. He insist for a few more minutes, but Ryan doesn’t say a word, and he just ends up giving up, wondering what would that be, hidden in that wrapped up box.

Z keeps trying to annoy Brendon with her comments, and he guesses it’s fair, given that’s what he does with most of the people. He finds it amusing, actually, and that seems to make Z stop after a while. They engage in a mostly civilized conversation after that, and Brendon takes the chance to ask Z when did she had a thing with Ryan, using the same words he did.

They experimented together, or so she says after Ryan gets totally flushed and refuses to answer. Z seems to like that, so she keeps talking, and Brendon finds out that Ryan was her sub for almost six months. She seems proud talking about how she made him eat her out until his tongue was swollen. That’s when Ryan steps in and talks about when they switched, and that makes Brendon raise an eyebrow because he really can’t see Z as a sub.

“Sadly, that only went on for like three weeks. Someone called it quits after a minor incident…” Ryan says, sarcastically.

“You broke my arm, Ryan,” Z corrects him, and Brendon burst out a laugh because that he wasn’t expecting. “Anyway, that was enough for me to know I was a classic Domme.”

“You look like a classic Domme,” Brendon says. “Actually, you remind me of my friend Patrick. Short and bossy.”

“Patrick?” Z asks, making a face. “Short, blond guy, with a heavily tattooed pet?” She asks, and Brendon laughs out loud and makes a mental note to call Pete ‘pet’ for now on.

“That must be Pete, yeah. They’re friends of mine. Do you know them?”

“Not the sub, but Patrick is one of the founders of the Gentlemen Society that goes along with the Ladies Society I’m part of. I’ve seen him in action. His work is beautiful. A really powerful voice, too.”

“Yeah, Pete always says he could come just listening to him. I’ve always wondered how would it be, coming for someone’s voice.”

“Why don’t you ask him for a demonstration? Patrick’s good enough to create a scene that could work for you,” Z says, and Brendon laughs, shaking his head no.

“I’m pretty sure Patrick would rather have vanilla sex for the rest of his life than trying to do anything with me.” Brendon laughs, twisting his mouth. “He gets second hand embarrassment just hearing me say what I do with guys that get all Dom-y with me.”

“That happens, yeah,” Z agrees, snorting a laugh. “I wouldn’t tolerate someone like you as a sub. I still don’t know how Ryan does it.”

“Maybe he likes it,” Brendon smirks. “Also, who says I’m his sub? For all we know, he could be mine.”

“Oh, really?” And that’s Ryan who speaks, looking at Brendon with a questioning face. “How so? How could anyone think I’m your sub?”

“Well, for starters, you do everything I want. And I’ve never been anyone’s sub before. You have.” Brendon makes a satisfied face, looking directly at Ryan. He waits for Ryan to say something else, but he doesn’t, and the silence in the room make Brendon starts to feel like the atmosphere is changing.

He frowns and looks at Z, who is looking at him expressionless, sipping her drink and watching them both. Brendon’s about to ask Ryan what’s wrong when he’s interrupted.

“That was so disrespectful.” Z’s voice is almost cold, and Brendon wonders where’s the girl that was laughing with him barely minutes ago. “See? That’s the kind of behavior I was talking about.”

“Disrespectful?” Brendon frowns even more, looking at Z but also at Ryan. “What is disrespectful? Saying he could be my sub? Why? Is being a sub so degrading you Doms take it as an insult?” Brendon looks back at Ryan, tilting his head. “Why would you want me to be something you find degrading?”

“I never said that,” says Ryan in a low voice, his eyes fixed on Brendon.

“Being submissive is not degrading. But a sub must know their place, and at least show a little respect for their Dom in front of other Doms. Doing this you’re just embarrassing Ryan,” Z says, speaking with disdain.

“Fuck off!” Brendon burst out, standing up from where he’s sitting. He can’t believe what he’s hearing; he can’t believe how this girl is speaking to him. She’s making him feel filthy, unworthy, bad for Ryan. And she doesn’t even know him; she doesn’t know what he and Ryan have. “In which planet do you live? I’m a person! How I live my sexuality and my relationships is my business. And I sure won’t live it the same way in private and in public. I’m not his slave and he’s not my Master. I didn’t sign any contract or agreed to lower my head and let him speak for me. He is a person, just the way I am, that’s how I live my life. So fuck you, classic Doms, and the way you think everybody must live according to your rules,” he says, clenching his jaw.

“So this is a SAM, then…” Z says looking at Ryan with half smile, still sitting in her chair and drinking her cocktail like Brendon wasn’t just furious in front of her, or like he was so insignificant she couldn’t bother to care at all. “Nice first impression.”

“You’re welcome, bitch. This was a free sample, next time you wanna enjoy the show, you’ll have to pay for your ticket,” he spits, storming out of there the moment he’s finished.

He thinks he can hear Ryan’s voice calling his name, but he’s so upset right now his heartbeats doesn’t let him hear too much, reverberating inside his ears. He gets out of the house and doesn’t slam the door shut because he still has manners, something he doubts anyone else in this house has. He goes straight to the car ready to go home until he remembers this is Ryan’s car, they came here together.

Brendon curses and grunts, turning around ready to walk his way to his house, even if he’s not so sure where he is right now. He has his cellphone anyway; he could always call Pete to come pick him up if he gets lost.

“Brendon, wait!” This time Brendon’s sure that’s Ryan’s voice, and he closes his eyes and breathes in, breathes out. He turns around cursing himself for being so weak. “Fuck, you’re fast.”

“Ryan, I’m not…”

“No. Listen. Listen, I…” Ryan shakes his head, leaving the bag with the thing Z gave him on the pavement and holding Brendon’s shoulders. “Look, I don’t think any of that, okay? Z’s just… I think you’re right. I do. And I’m sure she was just testing your limits. She likes those games. I… It’s not what it looks like.”

“Fuck off, you don’t get to say that!” Brendon shouts, tightening his yaw because his lips are trembling. He’s feeling too much right now and he doesn’t even know why. This is stupid. Stupid lips and stupid hands and stupid watering eyes. “She was hurting me and you did nothing! You just stayed there in silence, like you agreed with her!” He reproaches Ryan, and he shouldn’t because Ryan doesn’t owe him shit, but he feels betrayed anyway.

“I… I didn’t know you wanted that,” Ryan says, frowning and looking confused. “I don’t… I thought you wouldn’t like it, if I… spoke for you. I though you wanted to defend yourself.” He sakes his head, chewing at his bottom lip. “I would have… I would have said something. I swear. I swear, Brendon,” he says, moving his hands up to cradle Brendon’s face. “Hey, I promise. I… I’m sorry,” he says, speaking softly. “Can I kiss you? Please?” Brendon should say no, he should because this shouldn’t mean anything; he’s still hurt, he’s still mad. But Ryan’s asking him, he’s saying please, and Brendon just doesn’t know how to react. “Please. What do you want me to do? Do you want me to kneel? I would. Right here, on the street. Do you want me to call you sir?”

“Shut up,” Brendon shakes his head lightly, enough for Ryan not needing to move his hands from where they are. He doesn’t want that. He doesn’t care about that. But he has to admit that just hearing Ryan offering makes him feel a little better.

“I would…” Ryan insists, and Brendon huffs.

“I said shut up, Ryan, Jesus,” He closes his eyes. His cheeks are getting warm. This is stupid.

“But I would. I don’t care,” Ryan smiles, getting closer. “I would ask for permission every time if you want me to.”

“I don’t want you to.” He doesn’t. He…

“So, can I kiss you?”

“I said I don’t want you to ask for permission,” Brendon repeats, with his eyes still closed, and Ryan laughs.

“Yes, sir.” He kisses him.

Brendon knows he shouldn’t laugh, shouldn’t smile, because he’s mad right now. He’s mad at Ryan and he’s mad at Z, and he’s mad at himself for letting this stupid thing get to him. But Ryan is kissing him, holding his face too carefully and making it all so sweet Brendon can’t help it. So he laughs, and smiles, and puts his arms around Ryan’s neck and kisses him back.

“You’re a fucking idiot,” Brendon says, and Ryan bites his lip, hard, hard until he moans, and then holds him up, pushing his body against the car with a thud. Brendon grunts and holds Ryan tighter, hooking his legs around Ryan’s hips.

“But you love me anyway,” Ryan says. And Brendon swallows. Does he? Brendon opens his eyes and looks at him, just looks. Ryan’s cheeks are getting red and Brendon can’t stop staring. He just stares not knowing what to do, because usually he’s the one saying the wrong shit at the wrong time.

“… Maybe,” he says with his eyes fixed on Ryan. Maybe. Maybe he does, yeah. Maybe… Maybe he’s fucked up like that.

Ryan looks at him in the eyes and then looks at his lips, hesitating before moving forward once again and kissing him. It’s soft, and hot, and slow, and it feels like torture, it physically hurts so much it’s making Brendon melt.

“Come back home with me,” Ryan says, then closes his eyes and shakes his head. “No. Scratch that. You’re coming home with me,” he corrects, and Brendon laughs.

“Where did you leave all that calling me ‘sir’ and kneeling for me? Because that sure sounds like an order to me.”

“It is, because you’re coming home with me,” Ryan says, holding him tighter, “and you’re coming home with me because I need you there. And I need you there because I let someone hurt you, and I didn’t do anything, so I need to fix it,” he says, and Brendon bites his lip because that was the last thing he expected to hear. And his heart beats hard. And his body melts. “I will fix it. And if I have to kneel or call you sir to do that, I will. Although I hoped we could use what I got in that box instead.”

Brendon looks at Ryan and then past him at the bag on the floor. He doesn’t even want Ryan to kneel or call him sir or any of that; he doesn’t care about those things. And now he’s intrigued, because he didn’t expect Ryan got whatever’s in the box for him.

“What is it?” He asks, and Ryan smiles a little darker than before.

“Something that’s going to send electric shocks through your body.”



Chapter Text



The thing is, Ryan Ross doesn’t do guys.

One-night stands are easy, he can fuck guys, suck their cocks, take them deep, lick their skin, make them sweat, and never see them again. BDSM is intimate, and he can dominate girls, make them shiver, moan, cry, bend and please him once and again, enjoy the beauty of their bodies and admire it, remain friends then. Because Ryan doesn’t fall for girls. Ryan does girls.

Because Ryan doesn’t do guys. He falls for them.




Ryan just can’t believe his eyes, no matter how many times he sees it. The way Brendon twists and turns, the way he squirms, the way he moans, the way his body is so responding it makes Ryan feel like he’s the most powerful person in the whole world. Because he’s the one doing that, he’s the one making Brendon bend and break, gasp for air, chant his name like a prayer, come untouched once, twice, beg under his breath for the third time, moaning ‘fuck, Ryan, fuck’. He was wrong. He was so wrong when he thought guys were just hot, not pretty. Because Brendon’s hot, he is so hot, but fuck him if he’s not also the prettiest thing Ryan has ever seen.

Maybe it’s just his imagination, but it feels like Brendon’s skin buzzes to the touch after they’re done, when Ryan slides the metal plug out of his body, removes the electrode pads from his abdomen and inner thighs, finally untangling the ropes and letting Brendon just fall on his arms.

“You did so good, baby,” he whispers, stroking Brendon’s soaked hair, the sweat making his body slippery. Brendon can’t say a word right now, but he buries his nose in Ryan’s neck and sighs, leaving a tired, weak kiss over the skin.

Ryan holds him, carries him bridal style and takes him to the bathroom. He asks Brendon if he’s okay while he carefully washes his body, but Brendon just says something that sounds like ‘still flying’ and Ryan nods, kissing the top of his head. It’s not until they’re both in Ryan’s bed, Ryan working on something with his laptop on his lap, his glasses low on his nose, and Brendon snuggled against the side of his body, when Brendon starts to come back to life.

“Next time we use the electrodes, I can hold a light bulb in my mouth like Fester Addams, see if we can turn it on,” Brendon says, his eyes still closed, his voice exhausted, a little smile on his face. Ryan laughs and nods.

Using electricity has been such a discovery. Brendon sure loves all kinds of edge play but electroshock just does the trick for him, quick and easy. Ryan can see it, in the way Brendon doesn’t even try to provoke him too much except for the usual five, maybe ten first minutes. After that, after Ryan really starts using the toys, sending shocks through his body, Brendon just becomes a babbling mess. The first time they did it, Brendon described the experience as “shocking”, because he thinks he’s funny like that.

They’ve also started using clothespins instead of needles, mostly because you can use them over and over again, but also because Brendon looks fucking gorgeous with lines of clothespins all over his body. And it’s really funny putting them on Brendon’s cock when they’re starting and watch them snap free as Brendon gets rock hard.

“Do you think it’ll work?” Ryan asks, closing his laptop and looking at Brendon. “I could use you as a lamp.”

“Fuck you, I’m not an object,” Brendon complains, lazily, opening his eyes to look up at Ryan. “Save your forniphilia for your other subs.”

Ryan’s about to say he doesn’t have other subs. He really doesn’t. He did, he used to do, but since he and Brendon started meeting on a regular basis, Ryan has pretty much ended every agreement he had with the few girls he used to play with. He also thinks about telling Brendon he’s not forniphilic, although sometimes, if well done, it can be very pretty. Instead of that, he looks at Brendon with an eyebrow raised and a smirk on his face.

“My other subs? So you admit you’re my sub, then?” He asks, and he enjoys enormously the way Brendon’s cheeks get all red.

“I didn’t… That’s not…” Brendon tries to defend himself, but Ryan just starts laughing.

“You’re my suuuub. You’re going to submit to meee. You’re gonna call me sir again,” he mocks him, teasing him, making him blush harder. It’s fucking adorable and Ryan wants to pin him on his wall like a masterpiece.

“In your dreams, Ryan,” Brendon mutters, looking away.

“Oh, you do it there already,” Ryan answers.

“Really?” Brendon looks back at him, chuckling. “Well, Ry, that’s just sad.”

“Is not,” Ryan replies, looking at him fondly and stroking his hair, then caressing his cheek. “It’s actually very pretty.”

Brendon stays in silence for a minute, just looking at Ryan, not saying one word. He’s thinking about something, that Ryan can tell. It’s almost like Ryan could see the engines of Brendon’s brain working behind his eyes. Then he blinks, and it’s all gone.

“What are you writing?” Brendon asks, and Ryan starts to explain.

They don’t get to see each other too much that week, Brendon’s busy working and Ryan have some deadlines soon too. They manage to find an opening and go see a movie Ryan was eager for its release and Brendon didn’t mind it was subtitled. He actually listens to Ryan talk about how beautiful the soundtrack and the photography is for almost the whole movie, and that’s something not a lot of people can say.

“Europeans are the kinkiest, man…” Brendon laughs as they get out of the cinema. “I’d love to go, visit France, find one of those secret kinky parties…”

“I thought about going next holidays… Would you come with me?”

“Sure,” Brendon answers right away, shrugging. “Who better to go with than a French speaking snob,” he mocks Ryan with a smirk.

“Hey, it’s not my fault I paid attention in French class,” Ryan defends himself, but Brendon just keeps mocking him and they both laugh.

Next week Ryan orders the soundtrack of the movie online and goes shopping that same morning. His record player is pretty old now, sometimes it gets stuck, and Ryan doesn’t want to ruin the new record playing it in that old thing. He calls Brendon on the way back home just to talk to someone, hear his voice, have a little company.

They talk about the movie again, how things are so different on screen and in real life. Brendon tells him he’s been talking to Patrick, asking him about being a sub and stuff. Ryan asks him why talk to Patrick about it and not to Pete. It would make more sense to ask a sub about being a sub.

“Yeah, but Pete makes it sound creepy,” Brendon says, and laughs. “I mean, I can’t relate too much. He talks about it like it’s something almost mystical. So I asked Patrick what he liked about it.”

“I see…” Ryan nods, unpacking the things he just bought, holding the phone with his shoulder for a moment. “And why do you suddenly want to know about that? I thought you already did your research long time ago.”

“Well, yeah, but… I don’t know. You can never learn too much, right?”

“I guess…” Ryan says, looking at the box over the table. “I could totally use more knowledge about things, that’s for sure. Like how to plug my new record player to the sound system.” He would usually call Z for help, but he’s currently giving her the cold shoulder until she apologizes to Brendon.

“Wait, are you telling me you can do impossible knots and weird patterns with rope, but you don’t know how to do that?” Brendon asks, utterly amused.

“I’m pretty useless for domestic stuff, yeah,” Ryan nods, and Brendon starts laughing at him like crazy. Ryan chuckles and shakes his head no. Motherfucker.

“Do you want me to go? I can do it for you,” Brendon offers when he stops laughing, and Ryan smiles.




“See? It wasn’t that hard, right?” Brendon asks, sitting cross-legged on Ryan’s wool rug. He presses play and, instantly, the whole room fills up with the sound of music.

“Sure,” Ryan says. He’s lying. He’s been reading the whole time, not really paying attention at what Brendon was doing. It looked so boring.

“You’re a liar,” Brendon laughs, but he moves on the floor to get beside Ryan, resting his arm and face on Ryan’s thigh. “I like your music. You have good taste.”

Ryan smiles and looks down at Brendon, moving his hand to pet his head, pushing his fingers softly in Brendon’s hair and stroking. Brendon leans against the touch, almost purring. It’s just when the urge to kiss him hits Ryan, when he realizes that Brendon’s sitting on the floor, at his feet.

“Why don’t you get up here with me, huh?” Ryan asks, moving his hand a little to get it under Brendon’s arm, pulling at him soft, just to make him move.

“I’m fine here, I don’t mind,” Brendon says, making a face.

“But I do. I want you up here with me,” Ryan insists, and only then Brendon moves. It’s kind of weird, the way Brendon just does what Ryan tells him, but Ryan doesn’t think about it the moment he gets Brendon up on his lap, straddling him and kissing him. It’s just that for a while, a lazy make out that makes Ryan think about his teen years until it gets heated, dirty, Brendon moaning and grinding his hips against Ryan when he bites Brendon’s lip. “What are you in the mood for today?” Ryan whispers, pushing his hands up Brendon’s back under his t-shirt. “I thought about using the cat, mark you mine hard,” he says against Brendon’s mouth, feeling him shiver as he rolls his hips, “or maybe tie you up and push that metal dildo inside you, turn it up as high as I can, so high I can feel the electricity running under your skin. What do you say?”

He’s expecting some sarcasm, maybe Brendon challenging him or mocking him, laughing, telling him he doesn’t have the balls to do that, he can’t hit hard enough to mark him, whatever, Ryan’s mind is not as creative as Brendon can be. What he doesn’t expect, though, is the way Brendon clenches his jaw, looking at Ryan and biting his lip, moving closer to rub against him.

“Whatever you want,” he says, and his voice sounds weird, or maybe it’s just that Ryan can’t believe what he just heard.

“Whatever I want?” He asks, and it’s not sexy, it’s not part of some dirty talk, is genuine curiosity because he’s not sure Brendon means that.

“… Yeah?” Brendon says, asks, and he looks nervous, or maybe it’s something else. He doesn’t look like himself. Ryan doesn’t know what it is, but he feels like it would be uncomfortable asking him, so he decides to play along. Maybe Brendon’s not feeling it right now, to make a big scene out of this, and he just doesn’t want to let Ryan down. It may be.

“Okay. Come here,” Ryan says, and he pushes Brendon gently out of his lap, standing up and unfastening his belt, sliding it out of the loops. “Get on your knees,” he commands with a calm voice, and when Brendon does, he puts the belt around Brendon’s neck, using it as a collar and a leash. He tugs at it and Brendon grunts, but he doesn’t say a thing, and suddenly Ryan doesn’t remember how to do this without Brendon encouraging him.

He guides Brendon to the bedroom, and something feels strange inside his stomach, watching Brendon just following him without saying a word, just obeying. It’s hot, of course, in the way Ryan finds hot to be obeyed, but it’s also a little bit unsettling, and he doesn’t know what to do with that.

“Get on the bed and take off your clothes,” he says, and Brendon does, sitting in the middle of the mattress when he’s finished, looking at Ryan and waiting. Ryan takes the rope he got while Brendon was undressing and gets on the bed too, starting to wrap Brendon’s ankle and thigh together, then doing the same with the other leg. Ryan’s glad they played some music, because otherwise the silence would be deafening.

He slides the rope hard sometimes, making Brendon groan, but he doesn’t say a word, and Ryan finds himself doubting. Is it too hard? Is it too soft? How did he use to do this without any lead? He moves to Brendon’s arms and ties his wrists together, then both to the headboard. Ryan bites a kiss from Brendon’s mouth, taking him by surprise and making him moan, and Ryan closes his eyes delighted to hear it, because that one says Brendon’s enjoying it. At least he’s enjoying the bites, so Ryan keeps biting him, sometimes hard, sometimes softer, down his jaw, on his neck, making his way down to his chest.

“Do you want me to hurt you?” He asks, talking just to see if that way he can get more words out of Brendon. “Tell me, baby, what do you want me to do to you?” He flicks his tongue over one of Brendon’s nipples before sinking his teeth there, digging his nails on Brendon’s sides. Brendon moans and hiss, and his body moves, and his cock starts to get interested. This is a good sign, it is. Ryan bites him harder, scratch hard down Brendon’s body. “Do you want me to hurt you?” He asks again, lower, deeper.

“I want…” Brendon’s voice comes out chocked, and he swallows, looking up at the ceiling. “I want to please you. However that might be.”

That… wasn’t what Ryan was expecting, but it goes straight to his cock anyway. He keeps biting, sucking, marking Brendon wherever he wants, leaving red trails over his skin with his nails, flicking at Brendon’s cock when it’s totally hard and grabbing his balls, squeezing. He gets a good rhythm, torturing Brendon just using his hands, but then he gets out of the bed to look for the cat he promised before and everything changes.

He doesn’t know what to do. Ryan looks at the cat o’ nine tails in his hands and doesn’t know what to do with it. This is a truly horrifying torture device, and he would gladly use it with Brendon if Brendon were driving him so mad he wanted to make him scream instead. But Brendon is silent, is obliging, and Ryan just can’t… He can’t use it not knowing if Brendon really wants this.

He thinks about lighter implements, maybe a ruler, a paddle. It doesn’t work either. He just can’t start inflicting real pain to Brendon if he can’t see, can’t hear him enjoying it, asking for it. His mind runs fast, thinking about what he used to do with some of his girls, how he could manage through the whole scene without hurting them bad. He opens a drawer and gets what he needs, coming back to the bed.

“You said you wanted to please me, right?” He asks, and Brendon just nods, shivering a little. Ryan gets on top of him, pushing Brendon’s hair back before sliding the leather isolation hood down his head. “You’re not going to hear, see, or feel anything except for what I want you to,” Ryan explains, holding the hood so Brendon’s ears are uncovered. “I’m gonna watch you, and I’m going to enjoy myself. And only when I’m pleased, I will release you. Do you understand?” He says, and he doesn’t let Brendon answer before he covers his whole face.

Ryan fastens the belts on the back of the hood and, for a moment, thinks about leaving the mouth gag that comes with the hood and the blindfold altogether, but he takes it away. He’s done this sensory deprivation thing before with a bunch of his girls, and he would use the whole hood, but Brendon’s not used to this, and just leaving the tiny holes in the nose of the hood to let him breathe seems too much for his first time. Also, with his mouth uncovered, Brendon could call his safeword in case he needed it.

Once the hood is well secured and tight, Ryan moves and takes one of the vibrating plugs, lubing it up and pushing it softly inside Brendon’s body, turning it on. And that is it; his work here is done. Ryan moves as silent as he can and sits on a chair near the bed, unzipping his pants and stroking his cock before getting it out of them, opening his legs and masturbating just looking at the sight in front of him.

He remembers he liked this, a lot, just watching his subs helpless and isolated, the only sensations they could feel being the ones Ryan allowed, forced to feel what he wanted them to feel, finally giving up and just letting themselves go. Some of his girls could come and come and come for this, vibrator deep inside them and the darkness surrounding the rest of their senses.

Ryan bites his lips not to moan when he sees Brendon’s starting to hyperventilate, his hands balling in fists, his toes curling. He strokes himself faster, swallowing hard and rolling up his eyes, his cock rock hard in his hand, his body feeling every touch. He stops stroking for a while, just touching, wanting this to last at least as much as Brendon would. He wants Brendon to come first, at least the first time. Because of course Ryan plans to make him come as much as he physically can.

He stands up again, taking off his shirt and getting closer to the bed, ready to set the plug higher, accelerate Brendon’s climax, when he stops right there. Ryan blinks and frowns, the weird feeling coming back to his guts. Brendon’s not hard anymore. He has lost his erection and Ryan can’t think of any other time this has happened. Brendon’s shivering, his lips trembling, and he’s flaccid. A cold shiver runs down Ryan’s spine.

He knows male subs usually don’t get hard, or they lose they’re erections when they’re deep in the scene. He knows this is not essentially bad, because the sub’s job is not to enjoy themselves, but to please their Doms, to get psychological pleasure from it. But that’s not how Brendon works, that’s not how he likes Brendon. There’s no point of climaxing if Brendon’s not there with him too.

“B, hey…” he calls, and then he remembers Brendon can’t hear him, and he feels stupid. He reaches with his hand and touches Brendon’s chest lightly, and Brendon jumps like he’s just been electrocuted, panting harder, shaking all over. “It’s okay, it’s fine,” Ryan whispers, moving his hand slowly up Brendon’s head, getting a knee on the bed and joining his other hand to start unfastening the hood. “I’m here. It’s okay,” he keeps saying, lifting the hood carefully, licking his lips and swallowing because his throat is dry. “Hey.”

“Hi,” Brendon whispers, his voice weird, his eyes still closed even when Ryan takes the hood completely off and throws it away. He strokes Brendon’s cheeks, wiping the sweat from his skin, feeling him cold under his lips when he kisses his forehead.

“B, are you okay?” Ryan asks, the worry starting to get to his voice, because he sure as hell doesn’t look okay to Ryan.

“Don’t worry, it’s…” Brendon shakes his head, opening his eyes and looking at Ryan, then looking away. “I’m… Hey, wait. You didn’t come?” He asks and frowns, looking back at Ryan. “Why did you stop? Did I do something wrong?”

“What? No! You…” Ryan shakes his head, frowning. “Brendon, you didn’t like it. You’re not even hard anymore, baby.”

“But that’s not… You do, right? You do like it. That’s what matters,” Brendon says, and Ryan doesn’t understand. Or maybe he does. But it’s still…

“Brendon. Why are you doing this?”

“It’s just…” Brendon sighs, looking away. “It’s just that you said it was pretty, me being your sub and calling you sir and… And then I talked to Patrick and Pete and… and they were saying things like how you feel that real connection when you finally submit to your Dom or you get your sub to submits to you, and how sometimes it’s not pleasant but you feel, like, fulfilled in some other sense, and I just… I really, really like you and… I didn’t… I wanted…”

Ryan wants to kiss him, right there, shut his mouth and get him to stop talking with a kiss. But he doesn’t, because that’s not how he’s going to do things with Brendon. He’s going to do this right.

“I like you too. I really, really like you, too,” Ryan says, still stroking Brendon’s cheeks. “And that includes ever little part of you. I like when you talk back, I like when you push me and provoke me, I like how you make me so mad I do things to you I wouldn’t imagine. I like how that makes me so hard… And I like, no, I love how that makes you so hard,” he says, biting his lips and looking at Brendon’s eyes. “Everything else is bullshit. That real connection, you calling me sir or… Bullshit, Brendon. I’ve never, with anyone, felt the connection I feel with you. When we fuck, when we… don’t fuck, too,” Ryan chuckles, shaking his head. “There is no right or true way to do this. Just our way.”

“Really?” Brendon asks, laughing embarrassed and looking away when his cheeks get red as Ryan nods. “‘Cause then you need to know I fucking hated that mask and I wanted to spit you in the face the moment you took it off.”

“If you spit me in the face, I’ll punch you in that pretty mouth of yours,” Ryan warns, and starts laughing when Brendon makes his throat sound like he’s gathering spit in his mouth. “Don’t you fucking dare!” Ryan covers Brendon’s mouth with his hand, moving it away just when he’s close enough to kiss him. He holds Brendon’s face as he deepens in the kiss, and then digs his fingers harder, making Brendon open his mouth and spitting inside it.

“Son of a…” Brendon tries to move but he’s still completely tied down, and Ryan laughs and bites his bottom lip, flashing a dark smile before digging his fingers again in Brendon’s jaw, getting closer this time before he spits directly inside Brendon’s mouth, their lips touching.

“You like it,” Ryan says, slapping Brendon’s cheek kind of hard, making him groan. He moves back and raises his eyebrows when he sees Brendon’s cock getting hard. “Oh, fuck, you really like it! You kinky fuck…”

“You just slapped me, it doesn’t count!” Brendon replies, looking at Ryan and smiling sideways. “I mean, I think you slapped me. Maybe you were trying to kill a mosquito on my cheek and that was the tiny sting I felt…”

Ryan slaps him right away on the other cheek, harder, making Brendon’s head turn and his cock jump.

“Sorry. Another mosquito,” Ryan jokes back with a smirk.

“Yeah? Well, you should check out for more, don’t you think? Protect your sub from mosquito bites, that’s the number one Dom’s rule.” Brendon touches the corner of his lip with his tongue, smiling. “Or maybe you can start hitting me hard enough so I can feel it.”

“Oh, you’ll feel it,” Ryan promises, and Ryan always keeps his promises. He bites Brendon’s mouth hard, sucking at it and drawing blood from his mildly injured lip. He bites back over the marks he already left, going up to Brendon’s ear. “I love you’re back,” he whispers, biting Brendon’s earlobe then and pulling at it.

“Ouch, ouch! Ryan, that’s my ear! I need it to hear things…” Brendon laughs but he moans when Ryan bites and pulls harder.

“You’ve got another one,” Ryan says, going up and biting the shell. “This one’s mine.”

“Bossy,” Brendon laughs, grunting when Ryan bites really hard, moving his head a little so he can whisper near Ryan’s ear. “Thank you.”

“Don’t make me tape your mouth shut. Now fucking scream for me.”

Ryan gets the metal dildo and the electrode pads because he thinks Brendon deserves it, using the special lube and connecting the cables before shoving it up Brendon’s ass. Brendon groans and says something about not letting Ryan do this to him the first time if he had known Ryan was so bad with connecting electronic devices. Ryan pushes the button on the control that sends him a hard shock and smirks when he sees Brendon’s muscles contracting.

He’s still feeling a little bad about making Brendon wear the hood, and he makes a mental note of getting rid of the thing as soon as he can. He’s sure Z would love to add it to her collection. He may also threaten her to use it on her unless she finally apologizes to Brendon.

When Ryan finds the right program that makes Brendon’s cock leak all over his belly, his inner muscles clenching so hard it’s like the dildo is fucking him by itself, Ryan slides a cock ring behind his balls and grabs him by the hips, turning him around on the bed and leaving him face down. He feels a shiver running up his spine when he gets the cat again, feeling the leather over his palm and breathing deep.

It’s fucking gorgeous, the way Brendon’s back seems like a naked canvas, perfect for Ryan to start painting furious red stripes all over it. Brendon jumps at every blow, moaning and panting, humping the bed and making the headboard hit the wall because he’s so desperate. Ryan fists his cock and closes his eyes, stroking as he swings the tails of the cat, moaning when Brendon groans “Ryan, fuck, fuck, Ryan” as the leather hit the skin.

He stops when Brendon’s words become incoherent, and there are tears in his eyes and an entranced smile on his face. Ryan wants to know if Brendon came already, but he’s sure Brendon won’t be able to answer him just yet. He gets on top of him, unplugging the dildo and sliding it out, grabbing a pillow to shove it under Brendon’s hips.

“Gonna fuck you,” he whispers at Brendon’s ear, rubbing against his slicked ass-cheeks, poking at his already open hole. Brendon drags his sweaty face over the pillow, holding the iron bar where he’s tied on the headboard and pushing back with his hips.

“Yes, yes, yes,” he chants, sounding almost gone. “Fuckmefuckmefuckme. Make me feel it, Ryan.”

He pushes in hard, Brendon feeling still slippery tight because Ryan’s thicker than the toy. He bites Brendon’s shoulder when he starts to thrust in, pounding him hard, making the bed hit the wall again. Brendon feels so desperate, so raw under him, Ryan gets his hand under his body to grab his cock, feeling it hard and hot and fucking slippery, sliding so good in his fist Ryan can almost feel it.

“You’re gonna make me come again. Fuck,” Brendon chokes on his words, tensing all over, clenching around Ryan, spilling himself in Ryan’s fist.

It’s like a sign that tells Ryan he can stop holding on now, and he does. He grabs Brendon’s hips and thrust harder, faster, losing all sense of rhythm. He closes his eyes as he starts feeling it building, his whole body shaking, his cock twitching and pulsing so hard it’s like his heart is right there.

He comes with a long groan, digging his nails in Brendon’s skin and shooting the first load right inside him, then pulling out and stroking himself fast, finishing over Brendon’s rabid red back, making him hiss and curse because it sure as hell stings. Ryan laughs and presses his forehead to the back of Brendon’s head, and he smirks, panting, when he moves down and lick up Brendon’s spine, cleaning the skin with his tongue.

“Holy fucking mother of Jesus Christ, Ryan,” Brendon moans, and Ryan moves away to turns him around again, leaning down to kiss him, pushing his tongue in Brendon’s mouth, making him swallow.

“How do I taste?” He asks, breathing hard against Brendon’s mouth, his eyes dark, shinning.

“Fucking delicious, baby,” Brendon groans, and Ryan smiles, satisfied.

“Yeah, that’s what I thought…”




Ryan’s blowing Brendon’s hair dry, both of them laughing like stupid because Brendon calls Ryan ‘daddy’ when he brings Brendon a chocolate bar after the shower, and Ryan almost chokes with his own spit, making Brendon promise him he would never, ever, ever use that word again.

“It’s such a turn off, you don’t even know…” Ryan shakes his head, turning off the hairdryer and pushing his fingers through Brendon’s hair.

“But some people do it!” Brendon keeps laughing, and Ryan punches him soft in his arm.

“I though we already agreed not to do something just because some people do it,” he says, and Brendon just nods, his cheeks flushing a little when he says ‘touché’, looking away. “About that…” Ryan keeps talking, fighting his own body not to get red too. “What you did, what you said, that was… I mean. I…” Ryan bites his lip, making a face, moving his head. “It was very nice of you to… I mean, not nice, nice is not the word. What I mean is that, you really did that for me and. I don’t think I’m misreading it when I think that means you want… something else. And if you want something else, then I want something else too.” He takes a deep breath, because he forgot to breathe the whole time. “I think we could make it work. I mean, we’re… peculiar, but. We get along really well and we totally have that connection in bed. Or. Well, I feel it that way. So, yeah, that.”

“Oh…” Brendon just looks at him, his eyes wide and his mouth a little open, the perfect shape of a tiny ‘o’ in the middle of his lips. Ryan swallows and waits, biting his lip harder. For someone who doesn’t seem to know when to shut up, Brendon sure as hell could choose the moment to do it a little better.

“So… What do you say? Do you want to be mine?” Ryan asks, and he’s starting to hurt his lip for so much biting. Brendon looks at him and laughs, shaking his head and sighing.

“Fuck no!” Brendon snorts a laugh, looking at Ryan in disbelief. Ryan blinks and swallows, his cheek so hot they feel like burning.

“Oh. Y-You don’t?” He asks, trying to keep his composure and thinking about what to do next. Brendon just laughs and shakes his head.

“No, I don’t. I don’t want to be nobody’s. I never wanted to…” He explains, shrugging a little and looking at Ryan’s eyes. “But it doesn’t seem to matter, because I’m already yours anyway. So the real question here is, would you be mine too? Because I won’t accept it any other way.”

“Motherfucker…” Ryan laughs and lets out a breath, shaking his head and looking at Brendon, making a resigned face. “I mean, if you really, really like me, and I really, really like you… I don’t see how can I say no.”

Brendon laughs out loud, almost startling Ryan before he literally jumps on top of him, making Ryan fall on the bed with a thud, Brendon straddling him and getting closer, biting his lips before kissing Ryan softly. Ryan sighs in the kiss, letting his body just give in.

“So, you really, really like me?” Brendon asks, raising an eyebrow.

“Yeah,” Ryan laughs, his cheeks getting totally red as he nods. “Yeah, I do.”

“I don’t think so. I don’t think you like me,” Brendon says, poking at Ryan’s cheek with his nose, getting closer to his ear. “I think you love me.”

Ryan closes his eyes and smiles, moving then his head to look at Brendon, twisting his mouth as he pushes some locks of hair behind his ear. He makes a long thinking noise before speaking.

“… Maybe,” he says, and Brendon chuckles, repeating ‘maybe’ with a mocking tone. “Maybe,” Ryan repeats again, pushing Brendon and getting on top of him, starting to tickle him and kissing him when they both starts to laugh. Maybe…

Yeah. Maybe.