Personal Assistant (Ryden)

Chapter twelve

Waking up with a massive headache and running to the bathroom to throw up is not Ryan's ideal way to wake up on a Thursday morning. He spends a long time throwing up before he finally flushes it down and brushes teeth over and over. He swishes mouthwash throughout his mouth, spits it in the sink, then leaves the bathroom with a minty taste on his tongue. 

He picks up his clothes. His clothes from last night reek of alcohol, his hair is all messed up, and he can barely remember the last 12 hours. He remembers Brendon leading him into a bedroom with that seductive look in his eyes and smile on his drunk lips, and even with that thought his heart sinks. Brendon's shirt is off and the blanket is pulled up to his waist, and it's not until now that Ryan realizes that they were in the same bed. 

His eyes widen, panic setting in his chest. Did we have drunk sex? 

He goes to the dresser, searching for shirts first. Brendon's been going on about him wearing more button ups, something about how it's a little more professional, and luckily that's most of Ryan's current wardrobe. He pulls out a button up, putting it on and buttoning it up. 

"Well," Brendon suddenly says, voice rough and scratchy in a way that makes Ryan melt. Ryan turn around to look at him, and Brendon's eyes widen. He's not looking at Ryan's face, he's looking lower. Ryan looks down but doesn't understand.

"What?"

"Did we...?" 

"I... I don't know, I woke up with only boxers on, so... no idea," Ryan says.

"Your neck can give me a strong idea," he says. Ryan frowns. Brendon pulls the blanket back, revealing his boxer briefs. He grabs Ryan's hand and leads him to the mirror. Ryan freezes when he sees it. He has three dark hickeys on his neck. 

"Do you... feel sore, o-or something?" Ryan asks nervously. Brendon turns to face him and not the mirror and raises an eyebrow.

"And what the hell makes you think that I'd let you top?" He walks over to the dresser and puts on a pair of jeans.

"I don't, I wouldn't, I just-... I don't feel anything either," Ryan says. He thinks for a moment.

"Maybe we just used a lot of lube?" He asks quietly as Ryan too puts on some jeans. Brendon puts on some socks and his shoes.

"Yeah, I guess that's it," Ryan says. Brendon looks at Ryan, then suddenly smirks as Ryan puts on socks and shoes.

"I made you say 'fuck'," he says, but Ryan stands up straight and shake his head.

"No, I wouldn't have," he immediately protests.

"Yes, yes you did! I remember it, I got you to swear!" Brendon says proudly.

"Prove it," Ryan say out of instinct, but immediately realizes that it doesn't make sense. However, something flashes in Brendon's eyes and he pushes Ryan onto his bed, then hovers above him. Ryan's heart speeds up. 

He gets close, really close, so close that their lips are almost touching, just one tiny flinch can cause them to touch. Brendon's voice is so seductive and tempting as he speaks quietly and a little lightly, "Pretty please?"

Ryan's heart feels like it's coming up through his throat, so he swallows it down. He doesn't remember what he said, or maybe he just didn't process it yet, but either way, Brendon's close. He is so close to him and Ryan hates himself for letting himself do this.

Ryan leans forward and Brendon pushes him down, kissing back harshly. Ryan doesn't mind, he'd go through anything if it meant being this close to the person he hated two months ago. Their lips move heatedly and almost hungrily and he grinds against Ryan. Ryan moans in a way Brendon hasn't heard and Brendon gasps, then suddenly pulls away and gets up, wiping his mouth. 

"You can't tell any- no, you won't tell anyone. No one will know about this, and you're gonna forget any of this happened, got it?" He says bitterly, and Ryan just nods, trying to comprehend this moment. He pulls on a shirt and his hoodie. "I'm going on a walk, don't follow me." 

Ryan stands up and grabs his hoodie. He won't follow Brendon, he'll wait. He's hungry but he shouldn't eat. He might throw up anyway. The air is cold when it reaches the room, so he puts on a scarf and a pair of $1 sunglasses. He leaves, trying to take a deep breath and not look hungover. This sure is one hell of a way to earn money.