The Naked Truth [Ryden]

Fifteen: Brendon The Sugar Daddy

Ryan's shirt was, let's face it, destined for better things, and as it dropped to his bedroom floor, along with his belt, his mouth met Brendon's in a kiss that was even more delicious and desperate than the last.

The younger's fingers hooked into the belt loops of Ryan's jeans, pulling their lower bodies closer. A slow fire burned in their stomachs, and Brendon didn't spare a single thought for Dallon, who was sobbing on his couch. In that moment, he was Ryan's and Ryan was his, and they didn't need labels to determine the lust that fuelled them.

Truth be told, Brendon's heart was beating fast, way too fast, for this to just be something that would make them both come later. He would never admit it, not even to himself, not ever, but something was happening, no matter how much he didn't want it to. This couldn't happen, this was Ryan Ross, this was the model that was supposed to hate him. They weren't supposed to be kissing like this.

Ryan soon found himself pinned beneath the pornstar, his hands held above his head as the kiss was deepened considerably. He moaned softly, Brendon's thighs snugly bracketing his waist. Brendon was far too clothed in his opinion, but with his hands being held prisoner, there wasn't much he could do about it.

Then Brendon let go, kissing down his neck and his chest to the waistband of his jeans, unbuttoning them and pulling them down awkwardly to his knees. He resumed his place at Ryan's waist, shuffling down a bit so their crotches pressed together, and Ryan took the opportunity to pull Brendon's shirt over his head.

Brendon ground his body against the model's, creating a slow, torturous friction that drove them both crazy. His breath was hot against the elder's ear, and Ryan's hips bucked up in an effort to gain more friction, to gain more movement. Brendon then sat up, pulling a whine from Ryan's lips, and he pecked his forehead, smiling.

"I kinda want you to fuck me right now, but I also kinda don't." He said, running his palm over Ryan's stomach.

"Why not?" Ryan replied through gritted teeth, his eyes screwed shut.

"Because I'm thinking."

He cracked an eye open. "What about?"

It was out of my mouth before he could stop it. "You."

It was the half-truth, he guessed; he was thinking about Ryan, not about sex, just him. And he suddenly felt sick, because he reckoned how he felt about Ryan wasn't just friendship, but he wasn't the kind of guy perfect Ryan Ross would like, ever.

"You're getting soft, Urie." Ryan teased, wriggling beneath Brendon.

"Fuck off, I just appreciate a beautiful guy when I see one." The blood rushed to the model's cheeks, and Brendon's heartbeat stuttered. He had to steer the conversation away from this, now. "And I was thinking about my mom. She invited me over to hers tomorrow night, and I really don't wanna go, but I kinda have to."

"What's wrong with your mom?"

He scoffed, lying beside Ryan and allowing him to pull his jeans up, the mood well and truly killed. "She just wants to brag that she's happily married, while I've dated a handful of guys and lost count of how many I've slept with, and she's got a good, respectable job, while I'm..."

"Hey." Ryan took his hand, giving it a squeeze, and they turned their heads so they were facing each other. "That doesn't matter. Where you put your dick is your business."

The corner of the pornstar's mouth rose. "It becomes everyone's business once a camera and a paycheck is involved."

"How many people have you ever actually had a genuine heartfelt orgasm with?"