The Naked Truth [Ryden]

One: Porn Stars and Prostitutes and Pete Wentz's Pep Talks

Heeeeeeere we go folks, you got your warning, here's the first chapter!

Slow updates, probably inconsistent, etc etc etc - but oh well, you guys will have to live with that I'm afraid; I'm a very busy and stressed out girl (it's also my birthday in just over two weeks omg)

Also, if you have Facebook (fac-e-book) then give my page a like would ya? Here Lies therevengeparade - search me and I'll come up :)

Last note: if anyone could make me a cover for this, that would be splendid - I'm not looking for anything in particular, but a shot of Brendon in the Girls/Girls/Boys video would be awesome xD

Thanks Pete (and enjoi)

-xøcharr <3

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Ryan's biggest concern was, admittedly, the fact that one of America's biggest porn stars was going to see his dick in person.

Like, in actual person. As in, Brendon Urie was an actual human being with an actual face and actual arms and legs and an actual dick. He wasn't some guy moaning and swearing on a screen, drenched in sweat and come with some unknown guy's cock buried in his asshole.

Speaking of which, the tinny sounds coming from his speakers weren't exactly something he wanted someone like his mom to walk in on, but he didn't really care. When a model batted his or her eyelashes and pouted into the mirror, they normally had some sort of stimulating background music.

Ryan Ross had porn.

Specifically, he had Brendon Urie's porn, because Brendon Urie was the best and most famous porn star he knew, and he was really fucking hot.

And the sounds didn't phase him, not really; it was either him or the laptop that his neighbors were gonna hear, and sometimes it was both at the same time. Ryan really didn't have a lot of sex.

Brendon however, did.

It was strange how the two hadn't met in person, but then again Brendon was friends with the likes of Gee Way, and Ryan didn't really associate himself with such people and whatever kinks they had. Ryan was very much alone in that respect.

The faked, overexaggerated pornstar moans reached their peak and died down, and Ryan stopped pouting long enough to head towards his laptop. The screen faded to black, with Brendon's logo in the middle, and he rolled his eyes as he clicked the 'X' in the corner of the screen.

He exhaled slowly, pulling a filthy shirt over his head and running a hand through his hair as he swallowed heavily. It wasn't as if he had a crush on Brendon - come on, everything about him was fake, from his moans to his orgasms; like he ever had the capability to do more than lie there and get fucked.

Nope. He was just a little star-struck, is all.

~

Meanwhile, in the heart of Vegas, Brendon Urie woke up, surrounded by too much cock and not enough cocaine.

He rubbed his tired eyes and lifted his tired body up from the couch he was lying on. His head was throbbing, a mixture of too much alcohol and probably too much weed, but 'too much' wasn't a term that was in his vocabulary. He glanced around, his eyelids threatening to close as he took in the scene around him.

Hotel room. Lots of guys. Most of them naked. And a fuck-tonne of empty bottles and used joints.

He massaged the back of his neck, getting to his feet. He stumbled slightly, unsure whether he was going to fall over or not, before wandering around to retrieve his shirt. It was in the bathroom, and it reeked of beer and piss. He sniffed it dubiously, but pulled it over his head anyway; it was a shirt, and he was gonna have to fucking wear it.