{✔️} ryden oneshots || lovely 🌹

irresistable*part.one*

Ryan had asked Brendon to come with him to the bathroom. Mistake number, oh, twelve or so.

"You know who else can't go to the bathroom without their friends?" Brendon asks him as they weave through the club in search of the restroom.

"Who Brendon?" Ryan sighs. He knows the answer already.

"Girls," Brendon says smugly. "That makes you a girl." He'd meant to act all suave and sexy tonight to entice Ryan but somewhere along the line just ended up being annoying as piss. It was simply easier for him.

"You know what Bren?" Ryan says, stopping suddenly. "I've had enough of this bullshit. I will prove to you I'm not a girl."

"Oh yeah? How?" Brendon waggles his eyebrows suggestively. They are headed for the bathroom, maybe Ryan is implying he's gonna show Brendon his...

"I'm gonna go make out with that chick."

Brendon does a double-take. Ryan making out with a chick is the exact opposite of him showing his dick to Brendon, progress-wise anyway. Tonight is not supposed to be about girls. And since when did a female appear in this establishment?

"How is that supposed to prove anything?" Brendon doubts him out loud in an attempt to sway Ryan from his conquest but the lanky guitarist is already bee-lining for the lone group of females, out-of-place in a bar filled with men.

"Heyyy," Ryan greets them, lingering on the end of the word because two margaritas have left him quite tipsy.

There are three of them, two brunettes and a blonde, all average-looking, and thankfully none seem to recognize the famous guitarist or the lead singer who is observing the scene from a nearby pole.

"Hey! You're pretty cute, what's your name honey?" says the blonde, the one whom Ryan claimed he was going to make out with. And he will. Because he's Ryan-fucking-Ross, irresistible to women around the world.

"Ryan. And you're pretty cute yourself."

The blonde giggles, outstretching her hand. "Stacey. Ryan's kinda an unusual name. I like it."

Ryan screws his face and shakes her hand. He never thought his name was unusual but then again she could be from somewhere Olga is as common as Brittany so he just brushes it off.

"Total sausage-fest in here, eh?" says Stacey, patting the seat next to her. Ryan receives the invitation and sits down, as close to her as humanly possible.

"Totally, I didn't think there were any girls here at all."

"Me neither! So Ryan, are you here with anyone?" she asks, boldly placing a hand on his knee and giving a tight squeeze. This is going to be easier than he thought.

"Oh, you know, just some friends. Came here to get drunk, have some good times."

"Same here!" Everything she says is an exclamation and is punctuated by a bouncing nod, her drunken state very apparent. "And how lame the night has been! Fucking sausage everywhere!"

Ryan grins. He isn't necessarily attracted to this girl but she's pretty hilarious so he won't mind this too much.

"I'm glad you're here now though," Stacey continues, leaning closer and almost falling into Ryan's lap if he didn't catch her by the shoulders just in time.

"Hey there," he says. She stares at him strangely but her face softens as she brushes the hair out of his face. "You're really hot."

"I know." It's the first thing that slips out of his mouth.

"Cocky." She smirks, cupping his chin to bring their faces centimeters apart and whisper throatily. "I like that."

Ryan wastes no more time flirting and rushes forward, catching her parted lips in a chaste kiss. It's only now he can feel Brendon's gaze boring into him and closes his eyes. He doesn't want to accidentally look at Brendon while he's kissing this random girl, which is good because he would probably cry if he saw the hurt radiating from the deep chocolate orbs. But he doesn't, his lids prevent him from knowing, and instead he focuses on the pink tongue that tastes of whiskey sour delving into his mouth.

"Mmm," Ryan grunts as he reciprocates, blown away by how fun kissing is right now, thanks to the margaritas. Stacey runs her hands up and down his sides, obviously drunker than he, obviously more into it as well. Her fingertips dance along the bare skin that peeks above his jeans before bravely inching downwards, cupping his crotch. Ryan bucks into her hand and she gives a too-firm squeeze before literally jumping back from him.

"What the fuck!?" she shouts. Ryan quickly opens his eyes and looks to Brendon who only shrugs, just as confused as he. Stacey is furiously wiping the inside of her mouth with a napkin, muttering strings of obscenities.

"What's the matter?" Ryan asks. Stacey glares at him and throws the soiled napkin in his face.

"You...you're...you're a fucking guy!"

Ryan furrows his brow. "Yeah..."

"You're a fucking guy!" she repeats, her tone one of pure and utter disgust. "Ugh, I thought you were a girl! I'm a lesbian, you douche bag! Fuck, I gotta go..." she trails off, dashing towards the bathroom.

Ryan's cheeks flush bright red and he leaves as well, grabbing Brendon along the way (who has basically turned into a hyena at this point, he's laughing so hard). He pulls the little asshole to a secluded, darkened area of the mezzanine and clamps a hand over Brendon's mouth.

"Shut the fuck up," he orders. Brendon tries, he knows how embarrassing that must have been, but the giggles continue involuntarily.

"I'm sorry Ry," he apologizes when he's able to talk again. "But hey, look on the bright side—I definitely know you're a guy now, you grossed the shit out of that lesbian!"

Ryan half-heartedly punches him in the arm. He doesn't deserve anything harder, Ryan knows he's holding back and for that he's grateful. Besides, it was his own damn fault anyway.

"I really did," Ryan smiles. "Damn, am I really that disgusting?"

"No way dude, she was totally into you before she reached for little Ryan. Serves her right, molesting you like that." Brendon eyes Ryan's crotch as he says this and Ryan, well, he notices.

"Brendon, are you staring at my package?"

Brendon blushes and twists so he's facing away from Ryan, staring out onto the dance floor below. "Um, no...hey, isn't that Jon and Spencer?"

Ryan spies the couple Brendon is pointing to and sees that indeed, the dirty dancers are their band mates. "Shit, is Jon's crotch, like, fused to Spencer's ass or what? And are they...what the...are they gay?"

"Gayer than Christmas," Brendon answers, watching his two bearded band mates make out with each other. He feels green, this is not fair; everyone gets to make out but him!

The thumping techno fades out as cheerful horns bleat from the speakers, the start of some mariachi number. Brendon's hips naturally move with the music and catch Ryan's attention.

"Dance with me, I love this fucking music," Ryan gushes, pulling Brendon back against him. He doesn't wait for an answer; he doesn't need to, Brendon hips never stop swaying, even when the younger boy feels Ryan's warm crotch rubbing against his ass. In fact, that only makes him move back more.

"You trying to get me hard Bren?" Ryan whispers gruffly in his ear, hands on the tops of Brendon's thighs so the singer has no chance of getting away (not that he would want to, dear god no, this is what he's been wanting to do with Ryan all night, hell, all year).

"Mmm, feels like it's working," Brendon moans. Something is growing stiff in Ryan's jeans and poking him; just to seal the deal, Brendon bends all the way forward, shoving his voluptuous ass into Ryan's crotch and grinding fast, hard circles against his clothed erection. The lanky guitarist gasps at the pleasure his hardening cock is receiving; it takes all his self control not to snap his hips forward and just start dry-humping Brendon. He'd stain his new skinny jeans if he did.

"God Brendon, you can dance..." Ryan groans. He's fully giving into his instincts right now, caring fuck all that this is really, really gay. Maybe he caught some homosexuality making out with that lesbian, he tells himself, though deep down he knows (he knows) he's always wanted Brendon. It just took a little Jose Cuervo and a little lesbian-lovin for him to admit it (oh yeah, and a whole lot of Brendon's ass on his crotch).

"You like?" Brendon stands back up and turns to face Ryan who just nods dumbly in response, frozen to the spot. Fireworks explode in Brendon's chest at the look of sheer bliss on Ryan's face.

"Why'd you stop dancing?" Ryan breathes, playing with the hem on Brendon's shirt. His answer comes in the form of puffy, moist lips brushing against his own parted ones. Ryan couldn't have asked for a better response.

"Sorry," Brendon murmurs.

"Don't be. I'm not." Ryan closes the gap between them again, anxious to taste Brendon on his tongue. The singer happily opens his mouth and deepens the kiss, licking away any remnants the girl may have left behind. Ryan is his and he'll be damned if anyone tries to breach his property again.

"Just so you know," Brendon pants when they part, "I never thought you were a girl."

Ryan rolls his eyes and grins. "Gee Bren, really? You're not that dense?"

Brendon ignores the snide comment and nibbles on his earlobe instead, earning a high-pitched whimper from the guitarist. "I wouldn't kiss you if you were a girl," he whispers hotly.

"Why not?"

Brendon smirks. "Cause if you were a girl you couldn't fuck me. We need little Ryan for that."

Ryan moans loudly, partly from Brendon's admission that he wants to be fucked and party from the singer's stubby digits pawing 'little Ryan' through his denim.

"You wanna go find the bathroom now?" Brendon asks suggestively, reminding him of the reason they'd gone off together in the first place. Only now the trip has a very, very different meaning.

"Fuck yes, let's go."