It’s dark in here.  Not here, the cage, but here, the room. 

The room has achieved the type of darkness that is only possible when an architect decides that windows are not necessary and when the bare light bulb hanging precariously from the ceiling has forgotten its purpose.  This is the type of darkness that can find its way into your brain and begin to gnaw away at all the memories you have stored there until darkness is all you know.

The darkness had already begun to eat its way through the mind of the naked thing curled up in the cage on the floor.  If it were possible for you to see what the thing looked like, you might imagine for a moment that it was the broken figure of a human boy, but there is too much darkness for such an observation.

The thing in the cage stirs.  It wraps bony arms around bony shoulders and rocks back and forth, the movement slicing through the darkness and tricking the eye in to believing that there is light.  But I can promise you absolutely that there is no light. 

The thing in the cage makes a noise.

I am ready I am ready I am ready I am ready I am ready I am ready

Over and over again like a stuck record.

- * -

The boy’s skinny frame hangs limply by it’s wrists from the chains on the wall of the warehouse.  In front of him the vast empty space stretches away and only the footsteps of a man can be heard; hard, even footsteps, the type that march instead of walk because they know where they want to go.

“You ready for me now Princess?” Comes the man’s slow southern drawl and the limp boy lets his eyes flick up from the ground for just a second. 

The boy nods and makes a muffled noise through the gag that has been forced down his throat.  He had meant the noise to sound like ‘yes’ but the noise sounds more like a plea.  The man does not seem to mind though and he begins to ritualistically take his things out of a black leather holdall and lay them on the stainless steel medical trolley that is parked in front of the boy’s hanging body.

Scalpel.
Cigarette lighter.
Length of wire.
Pliers.
Clamps.

The man lays the items out very carefully, all perpendicular to one another in a particular order which has been well established.  The boy does not look at the items.  He continues to look at the floor. 

“Chin up Princess.”  The man instructs but the boy’s head doesn’t move and the man beats him across the face instead.

“Chin up Princess.”  The tone is identical, as though the last ten seconds didn’t happen and the boy knows that this will continue until the man gets what he has asked for so the boy raises his chin and looks at the man.

“Eyes here.”  The man makes a gesture with two fingers pointing towards his own eyes and the boy locks on to them because the boy knows that this is what the man wants.

“You keep them on me Princess.  You know what’s good for you.”

The man stares deeply and constantly into those eyes and tries to understand the pain that he sees there.  When the scalpel makes cuts on the boy’s stomach and hips and face the eyes grow wide and the man thinks that they look wild.  When the lighter is held for a time between the boys legs the eyes flicker like the flame below them.  When the thin wire is lashed again and again across the boy’s torso the eyes scream open in time with the strikes and thin red lines are painted across the flesh.  When the pliers and clamps are placed at different points around the boy’s body the eyes fill with water and glaze over and the man doesn’t think the eyes can see him any more.  It is at this point that the man no longer needs the boy and releases the body from the chains above his head and lets it fall to the ground, not noticing the ragged breaths it still emits.  The man meticulously places his things back into his bag, wiping each of the clean first with a disinfectant wipe.  The man then withdraws a roll of notes from his pocket and drops it near the body on the ground.

The footsteps march away across the vast empty room and Ryan Ross is left alone in his agony.

- * -

Ryan is stumbling through dark streets.  He has not got his clothes.  He tried to put them on, he did, but there was too much pain everywhere and he didn’t need them, he didn’t. 

The streets are glowing orange and he thinks people are calling out to him but he can’t hear what they are saying.  He stumbles into the road and stands and looks up and down.  It’s raining.  A car comes crashing around a bend and Ryan faces the headlights and does not close his eyes.  Through the windscreen wide brown eyes meet his.  The brown eyes do not try to understand the pain that they see.  They clamp shut.  There is a screech of brakes.

“You know, we can’t see much when you’ve got your back to us, Urie,” said Pete.

Brendon blushed again and slowly turned around, replacing his hands in front of his rapidly appearing hard-on and hoping that this wouldn’t be regarded as disobedience.

“Aww, look Ryan!  He’s shy!” exclaimed Pete.

“Hands behind your head,” barked Ryan, and Brendon’s insides turned at the sound of his owner, back in command of him, not angry anymore, just firm and in charge.  The naked boy locked his eyes on to Ryan and slowly raised his arms, placing his palms on the back of his neck and lacing the fingers together.  His eyes pleaded forgiveness.  See what a good boy I can be?

Ryan smiled and his eyes narrowed at the challenge.

“Elbows wider,” and Brendon pushed out his chest, forcing his elbows and shoulder blades backwards and raising his chin slightly.  Ryan approached him, the two boys still staring in to one another.  Without warning Ryan’s hand shot out and his palm caught Brendon across his cheek, hard enough to causing Brendon’s head to jerk sideways and a small cry of pain to escape his lips.  “Don’t look at me, Brendon.  You have not earned the right to look at me this evening,” Ryan sounded angry again but it wasn’t genuine anger born of hurt.  It was an imitation of anger, deliberately designed to make Brendon’s stomach flutter in anticipation.

A second before he dropped his gaze to the floor Brendon risked a glance at Pete and saw him leaning against the wall of the corridor, a soft smirk on his lips and his hand in his pocket.

Slap. 

Brendon’s other cheek burnt red hot.  “Don’t look at him either, whore,” the insult caused Brendon’s cock to twitch involuntarily.  “You have not earned that right either.  In fact, this evening you have been very, very bad and you have lost your right to even be permitted thoughts of your own, do you understand me, whore?”  The whore’s cock twitched again and he clenched his eyes shut at the words and tried to stop himself from shaking.  He nodded his head.

Slap.

“I said do you understand, whore?”

“Yes Sir,” Brendon wished he could keep his voice more steady in the presence of Pete.

“I’m glad we understand each other.  Get down on your knees.”  Brendon began to remove his hands from behind his head.

Slap.

“Leave them where they are.” 

Brendon quickly locked his fingers back together and found his balance before raising one foot and placing it behind him, lowering himself to his knees with as much elegance as he could muster and kneeling before his owner.

“Lie on your face.” 

Brendon knew better than to try and make it easier on himself and so with his hands still firmly in position he shuffled forwards until his forehead reached the floor and he could stretch his legs out behind him and lie prostrate on the ground at Ryan’s feet. 

“Kneel.” 

It took a second for Brendon to understand the order and the hesitation earned him a kick on the bottom from Ryan’s shoe.  He scrambled back to his knees, moving his hands forgetfully in his rush to obey.

Slap.

Brendon’s arms shot back up to the sides of his head, elbows out, hands back in their correct position.

“Stand.”

Brendon needed no encouragement this time and he struggled to his feet keeping his fingers laced, forced to knock his knees together in an ungainly manner before righting himself and straightening up.

“Knees.” 

And Brendon was down again, his previous desire for elegance abandoned and replaced by a fervent desire to simply obey.  He landed heavily on his knees.

“Face.”

Brendon fell forwards, pressing his cheek in to the ground and sprawling his legs behind him.

“Knees.”  And he was up again, almost anticipating the command.

“Face.”  A moment’s hesitation but Brendon was not going to get it wrong, he was a good little whore and he would prove it in front of whoever Ryan needed him to.  The floor was cold under his cheek and his cock pressed uncomfortably in to the ground underneath him.

“Not completely useless is he?” came Pete’s voice as though merely to remind Brendon of his presence.

“Not completely,” agreed Ryan, “for a whore.”

Brendon moaned at this and Pete and Ryan both laughed, not loudly, but loudly enough for Brendon to screw his eyes tight shut again.

“Arms out to the sides.”

The fingers unlaced themselves and Brendon stretched his arms out to each side of him, cringing further as his left hand came in to contact with Pete’s shoe.  He angled his arm around it and spread his palms flat on the ground.

Ryan reached down and grasped a fistful of Brendon’s hair, wrenching it upwards, forcing the prostate boy’s head up, throwing his neck back awkwardly.

“Look at Pete,” ordered Ryan, crouching down now besides Brendon, pulling harder on the fistful of hair so that Brendon’s throat was stretched so far he could barely breathe.  Brendon forced his eyes open and was shocked to find them full of tears.  He raised them as far as he could, straining to meet the smirking gaze of his boss who was staring down at him from above.

“Now.”  Ryan’s words came slowly and deliberately.  “I want you to apologise to Pete for wasting his time on your pathetic little whore’s problems.”

“I’m sorry Pete,” in his position Brendon could barely manage a whisper.

“For?”  Ryan tugged at the hair to encourage Brendon to continue.

“For wasting your time…with my…stupid little whore’s problems.”

“I believe I used the word pathetic, Brendon, did I not?”

“Ahh…yes…YES…pathetic…PATHETIC …” Brendon’s mind was beginning to cloud and he struggled for breath. 

“Better.”  Ryan let go of Brendon’s hair, letting the boy’s head drop heavily to the floor, his mouth gasping gratefully for air. 

“Now just to show him you’re really, really sorry Brendon, I would like you to put on a little show for Pete.  I want you to show him what a good little whore you can be, when you are not busy making foolish demands of your Master.”  Ryan stood up and began to pace a small circle around Brendon’s helpless naked body.  “Move your hips against the ground.  Nice and slowly.  Show us what a sexy boy you can be.”

Brendon swallowed and closed his eyes, forcing himself to obey despite the way his mind argued with itself.  He slowly started to circle his hips, grinding himself against the hard surface of the floor beneath him.

“Little bit faster,”  Ryan ordered and Brendon began to move faster, pressing his hard cock in to the floor in a rhythmic motion.

“That’s right little whore.  Hump the floor.  Make noises so Pete knows just how much you like it.”

The words tore at Brendon’s ego and he gritted his teeth, grinding his hips faster against the hard floor, causing pain but causing pleasure.  He let out a moan.

“Spread your legs you fucking slut.  Come on, Pete wants you to show him how well you can fuck.” 

Brendon needed no further encouragement.  All sense of self awareness was lost and only instinct remained.  The naked, sweating boy humped and ground and circled his hips and moaned like a whore.  Ryan recognised the sudden change in Brendon’s rapid breathing.  A well aimed kick between Brendon’s legs, not hard but hard enough, forced the slut out of his ecstasy.

“Do you seriously think I would allow you to finish?” Another kick brought a yelp from Brendon and Ryan felt he had made his point.  The taller, thinner boy crouched down once again between a squirming, whining, broken Brendon.

Brendon didn’t even notice Pete crouch down on the other side of him until the calloused fingers stroked his back once again.

“Apology accepted.  Whore.”

Pete laid another smack across Brendon’s buttocks before standing back up, taking Ryan with him.  Brendon could sense them both standing over him but did not turn his head to look.

“Well, Ross, I guess I can still count on a second album?”

Pete reached out a hand tenderly and touched Ryan’s arm, the flippant tone of his voice masking his genuine pleasure at seeing two of his favourite people so intensely, strangely, perfect for one another.

“You got it,” Ryan replied and gave Pete one of his most adorable smiles, the one with the half closed lids and his mouth slightly open, tongue between his teeth.  Pete had been awesome tonight after all.  He deserved a little Ry-flirting.

“Sexy boy,” Pete grazed a thumb across Ryan’s cheek before zipping up his hoodie and making his way off the bus, almost certainly in the direction of Patrick’s obedient mouth.

Brendon didn’t know what to feel about Pete’s departure:  relief, because he would no longer be forced to humiliate himself in front of his boss; or concern, because now it was just him and Ryan and Ryan might still be angry with him.

They remained like that for many minutes, locked in each others arms, Brendon’s sobs coming unashamedly as Ryan clung to him, never ever wanting to let him go.  Ryan’s head swam with images of what might have driven Brendon to this.  “What happened baby?”  He finally asked.  “What happened?”

“They just…I couldn’t…I’m not part of them Ryan…I’m not part of them.”

“What Bren?  Part of what?  You’re not making sense.”  Ryan took hold of Brendon’s shoulders and eased them apart so that he could look in to his friend’s eyes.

“I’m not a part of them.  I can’t be.  They’re so…they’re so…everyone was there Ryan…everyone.  They had invited all of them round.  Everybody, Ryan, everybody…and they sat me down and they…they laid everything bare Ryan…in front of everyone…EVERYONE Ryan!”

“What Brendon?  I don’t understand?  I’m so sorry…baby tell me…”

“They interrogated me Ryan.” He blurted out between sobs.  “They told me I was wrong and bad and dirty and they laughed at me Ryan.  They laughed when I tried to explain how I felt…about boys…about you Ryan.  They laughed like I was six years old and I had a silly crush and I would get over it and I LOST IT Ryan.  I just fucking LOST IT!”

There was something scary about the way Brendon said those last few words; a certain look in his eye which Ryan had never seen before.

“Brendon…what did you do?”  Ryan swallowed the accusation from his voice.

“I pushed him.  I shook him and I pushed him.  And I punched his face.  I punched his face Ryan.”

“Whose face Bren?  Whose?”  But Ryan already knew the answer to that question.

“My father’s.”

They sat in silence, neither of them able to look at the other.  Brendon stared at a spot on the floor and dug his fingernails into the back of his hand until he drew blood.

“Don’t do that.”  Ryan said and took Brendon’s hand by the wrist, pulling it away to stop it causing any further damage.  “Is that why you wanted me to hurt you Brendon?  To punish you?”  Ryan couldn’t keep the worry from his voice.  He was confused.  It had seemed the right thing at the time.  He should have questioned Brendon further, should have found out why he needed the pain so much, why he didn’t object when Ryan beat his back where the flesh is thin and taut.

Brendon nodded his head and started to cry.

“Bren, I’m not…you didn’t need to be punished Brendon…It’s not my place Brendon…fuck…”  Ryan got to his feet and began to pace the room, hands tugging through his hair. 

“Don’t be mad Ryan…I did a bad thing.  I needed to be punished.  I deserved it.  I fucking punched him Ryan.”

“It’s not my place Brendon.  It’s not my place.”  Ryan didn’t know what else to say.  He felt betrayed.  He felt disgusted at himself.  Suddenly it all seemed so very, very wrong.

“I have to go out.  I need some air.”

“Ryan please…”

“I need some air Brendon.”

And with that Ryan was gone and Brendon was left sobbing on the floor of the bus, the pain on his ass and his thighs and his back not even registering in comparison to the pain in his heart.

* * * *

Brendon lay awake in his bunk, ears straining for the slightest indication that Ryan might be approaching.  It was 3am and nobody was back; not Jon, not Spencer and not Ryan. 

Brendon had sat on the floor in the living area for many minutes hoping that Ryan would come back and make everything alright, but then there were noises outside and Brendon had realised he still had his collar buckled around his neck and there were angry red patches all over his body.  He had moved around the room slowly, clearing away any evidence of the act that had taken place there, then walked to his bunk and crawled under the covers, still not able to put his thoughts in order. 

He didn’t understand why Ryan was angry.  Ryan liked dominating him.  This whole thing had been Ryan’s idea in the first place.  Ryan had instigated it.  Ryan had led Brendon down this path and opened his eyes to this world and now Ryan was angry and Ryan was gone and he, Brendon, did not understand.

Brendon pulled at the collar around his neck.  It was buckled so tight it was choking him but he wouldn’t take it off, not until Ryan told him to. 

There was a sound.  The door to the bus opened.  Someone approached and Brendon held his breath.  It wasn’t Ryan.  Those weren’t Ryan’s steps.  It wasn’t Spencer or Jon either.  The curtains were pulled aside and Brendon bit his lip because it was Pete and he was still wearing his collar and his back was red and sore and his face was wet with tears.

Pete sat down on the edge of the bed and looked down at Brendon who had lost the power of speech.

“So a weird thing just happened…Ryan Ross just walked into a bar and ordered a whiskey.  And Ryan Ross does not drink.  Like ever.”

Brendon bit his lip harder and grimaced.  “He did?”

“Yeah.  It’s okay though.  He didn’t drink it.  He just sat and stared at it.”

“Oh.”

“Yeah.  So do you wanna tell me what’s up with that because Ryan Ross, I don’t know if you’ve noticed, but that boy is as stubborn as a mule.”

“I think I fucked up.”  Was all Brendon could manage.

“I kind of figured that much out on my own.  Does it have something to do with this?”  Pete reached down and touched the collar around Brendon’s neck.  Brendon wanted the bed to suck him down into hell.  “Brendon, answer the question.”  That tone again.  Different coming from Pete but still that tone and Brendon couldn’t not respond, he just couldn’t.

“Yes.”  He said in a small voice.

Pete did not pull his fingers away, but instead stroked gently at the collar around Brendon’s throat.

“You like wearing this don’t you?”

“Yes.”

“Well it just so happens that I know a little something about this.”  He tapped the collar again.  “I know quite a lot actually.  This situation, you see, it isn’t altogether…unfamiliar…to me.  Now there are all sorts of questions I could ask you here Bren…Did he hurt you?  Make you do something you didn’t want?  Ignore your safe word or push your limits too far?  But the fact of the matter is Brendon that it’s Ryan.  Fucking Ryan, Brendon so I am not even gonna ask those questions.  Got it?”

Brendon nodded and sniffed.

“So what questions should I be asking, Brendon?”  Pete looked at Brendon severely and it came to him, instantly, the reason why Ryan was angry.

“I used him.”

Pete’s face did not change and he waited patiently for Brendon to elaborate.

“I did a bad thing and I was angry at myself and I thought that if he hurt me I would feel better.”

“What did you do?”

“I punched someone.  My Dad.  I punched my Dad.”

“…okay.  Wasn’t expecting that one.  Why?”

“He humiliated me.  He pulled me up in front of everyone and he humiliated me and he said that the way I feel about Ryan is just a crush and they all laughed…”  The words sounded suddenly lame and Brendon bit his lip again.

“So you came back and…”

“Yeah.”

“Do you get why it’s bad Brendon?”

“Yes.”

“Good.  So the only question that remains is, what are we going to do to make it right?”

Brendon opened his eyes wide and waited for Pete to answer his own question.  He surely couldn’t imagine that Brendon knew what the answer was.  At that moment the door to the bus opened and Ryan appeared, the anger gone from his eyes.

“Pete.”  He stated.

“That’s my name buddy.”

“What’s up?”

“Funny you should ask.  Young Brendon here was just coming to terms with his stupidity.”

Ryan smiled a half smile at Brendon that made Brendon think that everything might just be alright.

“I would have thought he had come to terms with that a little while ago.  The rest of us have.”

Brendon blushed and pulled the covers up higher around his neck.

“Yes, well he’s slow, bless him.”  Pete ruffled Brendon’s hair and Brendon grumbled under his breath.

“Pete said you ordered a whiskey.”

“Yeah.  Stank.  William drank it in the end.”

“How thoughtful of him,” commented Pete.

“Yeah, he’s all heart.”

The three of them were smiling now and absorbing a comfortable silence.

“So my boys are okay, right?  Because obviously you guys liking each other is kind of important to me.  Purely selfish reasons.  Your album’s still selling well.”

“Gee thanks Pete,” Ryan smiled.

“What can I say?  I’m a big hearted guy.  Now Brendon,” Pete turned back to the boy in the bed, “back to that question.”

“What question?”  Asked Ryan, sitting next to Pete on the bed, close to Brendon’s feet.

“Brendon was just going to suggest how we can make this right, weren’t you Brenny?”

Pete and Ryan looked expectantly at Brendon who pulled the covers up further still until only his eyes peeked out over the top of his duvet.

“Well?”  Said Pete, continuing his wicked glare.

“Don’t know,” squeaked Brendon from under the covers.

“Awww,” Pete turned to Ryan, “he doesn’t know.  Maybe we should give him a clue?”  Ryan leant forwards and placed his hand on Pete’s knee so that they were both angled towards the boy hiding under the covers.

“You see Brendon,” Pete began, in a tone of voice that would have been better suited explaining why bullying is bad to a five year old, “punching your Dad was bad.  Very bad.  Quite surprised you had it in you to be honest.  But that was between you and your Dad.  Are you following so far?”

Brendon nodded his head so that his eyes disappeared under the covers and reappeared repeatedly.

“But then Brendon, you did another bad thing.  Do you know what that was?”

Brendon shook his head quickly from side to side.

“I think you do Brendon.”

The head shook again.

“You abused our relationship,” Ryan blurted out.  “I would never, ever have beaten you if I had known that that was why you wanted me to.  Apart from anything else, I don’t necessarily think you did anything that bad.  Your Dad was a jerk and you reacted.  I’m not saying it was the right reaction but you certainly shouldn’t be punished for it Brendon.”

Brendon’s eyebrows furrowed.

“Awww,” cooed Pete, “have we confused you, little one?”

Brendon nodded again.  The penny, albeit very, very slowly, was beginning to drop.

“I’m sorry Ryan.”  Brendon said eventually, hoping that this was the right thing.

“I know you are.”  Ryan leant right across Pete’s lap then and planted a soft kiss on Brendon’s forehead.  “I know.”

Brendon smiled and pulled the covers down a little.

“So how hard did you beat him?”  Asked Pete suddenly, and Ryan laughed, one of those rare, beautiful tinkling laughs that he saved for very special moments.

“Pretty fucking hard,” said Ryan.

“Tsk, with those spindly arms?  I don’t believe you.”

Ryan and Pete looked at each other for a moment and Brendon thought he saw an understanding pass between them and he definitely thought that this did not look good for him.

“Up,” ordered Ryan, pulling the covers away from Brendon’s torso and rising from the bed.  Pete followed suit and the two of them stood looking down at the collared boy who was trying to cover himself with his hands.

“Ryan?  I don’t have any…”

“Pants?  Good.”

Brendon looked from Ryan to Pete and then back to Ryan.  He finally understood.  Lowering his eyes to the floor he rose from the bed, exposing his naked body to them both, and stood before them, hands cupped in front of him, allowing himself one tiny bit of decency.

“Turn around.”  The order came from Pete, not Ryan, but Brendon obeyed it all the same.  He turned to face his bunk and leant forward automatically, pressing his palms flat on to the mattress.

“Jesus, Ross, you did beat him didn’t you?”  Brendon cringed as he felt fingers run across his ass.  They weren’t Ryan’s long delicate fingers.  These were firmer, more calloused and rough.  An involuntary whimper escaped Brendon’s lips.

“Awww, he makes cute noises!”  Pete exclaimed and Brendon felt the rough finger tips trailing up his back to the red patch across his shoulder blades.  He whimpered again; he wasn’t sure why, he didn’t need to whimper.

“Awww,” Pete repeated and Brendon blushed and smiled and shook a little bit.

“Hey!” Came Ryan’s voice.  “I thought he had been bad!”

“Oh yeah.”  Pete responded, and laid a hard smack on Brendon’s ass.  Brendon yelped.

They woke up together the next morning, arms wrapped around each other, their tiny bodies barely taking up a quarter of the large hotel bed.  They kissed passionately and ground against one another until Ryan forced himself to jump up out of bed and head to the shower before his lust overcame his control. 

Ryan was all about control.  He controlled the way the band’s songs sounded on stage.  He controlled the way they presented themselves to the public.  He controlled the worlds that he wrote about in his lyrics and most of all he controlled his own heart.  But the boy still snoozing on his side in the bed, cuddling the pillow like a teddy bear and making strange little slurping noises; this boy was eventually going to take Ryan’s control away from him and there was nothing Ryan could do to stop it.  But in return this boy was going to put all of his trust, all of his control and all of himself in to Ryan’s care and this was the only exchange that Ryan would have made for a piece of himself.

It is important to realise that Ryan Ross’s need for control was not born out of arrogance or a desire for power.  It was self-preservation.  It was independence learnt too young.  It was born out of hurt and abandonment and everyone that knew Ryan understood and accepted this, Brendon most especially.

* * * *

Breakfast was long over by the time they materialized, dressed and ready to face the day.  Brendon’s willing submission the night before meant that he now bounded around even more frantically than usual.  Ryan felt like Eeyore to Brendon’s Tigger.  When Ryan suggested that they might go to the movies in the afternoon since it was a hot day and the theatre was likely to be fairly empty, Brendon was beside himself.

“Yesyesyes Ry, I haven’t been to the movies in ages!  Can I get popcorn and one of those buckets of Coke and pick ‘n’ mix as well?  What are we going to see Ryan?…What?…Whatwhatwhat???”

“Oh good,” said Ryan dryly.  “A place where you can eat loads of sugar and then sit in silence for two hours while all that pent up energy just waits to get unleashed.”

Brendon sniggered childishly at the word ‘leash’.  Ryan smacked his bottom.

* * * *

When they emerged, blinking into the early evening sunshine nearly three hours later Ryan was inspired.  Children of Men was a film about the potential end of the human race and the possibility of hope for its future. 

“There’s gotta be a song in that,” He remarked enthusiastically, “I love the idea of someone being the youngest person on earth, a kind of symbol for the end of humanity…the anti-Adam…”

“I liked the bit with Michael Caine.”  Brendon contributed helpfully and Ryan patted him on his head.

“Sure Bren.  Me too.”

They took the long route back to the hotel, Ryan philosophising about the state of the planet and the faults of society, Brendon enjoying the way Ryan kept biting his bottom lip after a particularly intellectual rant.

“You wanna eat in the restaurant or order room service?”  Brendon asked him when he was sure Ryan had off-loaded the majority of thoughts that had filled his wonderful brain since watching the film.

Ryan pondered the question.  “That kind of depends on you.”

“Okay.  Why?”

“Stop a sec Bren.”  They were walking through a small park and Ryan took Brendon’s hand and led him off the path to a grassy area, where they sat down in relative seclusion under a tree, the dappled sunlight playing across Ryan’s features and making him look even more angelic than usual.  Brendon sat with his legs crossed, fidgety, a look of concern on his face.  Ryan stretched his legs out in front of him and leant back on his arms, looking up at the sky for a few moments to gather his thoughts.

“What’s up Ry?”

“Nothing’s up.  Honestly.  And it’s not often I can say that and mean it.  I just thought we should talk.  I want to talk.  About this.  Us.  This thing.”

“Okay…”  Brendon wasn’t sure he was comfortable with this idea.  It was one thing to indulge his darkest desires in a hotel room with Ryan when most of the blood from his brain had rushed to his cock.  It was quite another to sit discussing it out in the sunlight.  “What d’ya wanna talk about?”

“I just…I’m checking up I guess.  While we’re, you know, being just us.  Equal.”

Brendon wondered if Ryan realised no-one ever felt an equal around him.  Ryan was like some celestial being, sent from God-knows-where to bring light and questions and beauty into the world.  “Right.”  The sentiment was there although Brendon’s choice of response perhaps didn’t do it justice.

“It’s just…obviously…when we’re…you know…obviously I have to…I mean not have to because I like it but…I make the decisions…don’t I?”

Brendon relaxed when he realised the topic was just as difficult for Ryan to put into words.  If Ryan couldn’t construct an articulate sentence about it Brendon knew he had very little hope.

“Yes Ryan.”  Brendon encouraged.

“So…you see…the things we do are…sort of dictated by me.”

“Right.”

“But it’s important to me…I mean I just would like to…I want to know what you want,” Ryan finished, suddenly looking Brendon earnestly in the eye. 

Brendon’s heart skipped a beat.  “I want what you want.” 

Ryan smiled a frustrated smile.  “But aren’t there things you’ve thought about?  Since we started this?”

“I don’t know.  Maybe.”

“What things?  Tell me….I command you to tell me!”

“Well since you command me…Sir,” The tone was light-hearted but Brendon still found it easier to talk after this exchange.  “I liked last night.  Being tied up.  It felt so…I was helpless.”

“And that was a good thing?”

“Yeah…scary…good scary.”

“What was scary?”

“Not knowing what you were gonna do.  And knowing I wouldn’t be able to stop it, whatever it was.  And kind of wanting you to do something…you know…bad.”

“Something bad?”  Ryan’s curiosity was aroused. 

“Yeah…you know?”

“No Bren, I don’t.  That’s why I asked.”

“Like…hurt me.”

This was a delicate area for them both.  Ryan proceeded with caution.

“Like hurt you…like physically hurt you?”

“Well, yeah…yeah.”

“…Okay.”

The silence hung in the air and was carried up to the tree above them, where it was dispersed amongst the branches.  The truth was that Ryan did not know what to say and this was not a problem he was often faced with.  Fortunately for him Brendon had a lot of experience in this area and eventually the younger boy crawled over to where Ryan lay and kissed him on the mouth.

“Restaurant sounds good.”

“Yeah.”

* * * *

The meal that evening had felt like a first date.  They talked so long, about their families, their high schools, their friends, the band, the fans, that the restaurant was empty by the time they signed for their food and headed back to their room.  They lay together in the large bed and watched trashy TV.  Ryan stroked the hair on the back of Brendon’s neck.  Brendon suckled gently on the end of one of Ryan’s fingers.  They both fell asleep fully clothed on top of the duvet, neither one ever having had such a good night’s sleep.

* * * *

Over the next few days Ryan wondered often why nothing had happened that night.  A lot had happened it was true but none of it overtly sexual…the games did not start and he, Ryan, had not wanted them to. 

He wondered if maybe the games were over; if their brief foray into the world of BDSM was just a way for him and Brendon to come together and now that they had, those things would stop.  Ryan noticed his behaviour towards Brendon becoming increasingly submissive.  The confident control he had wielded the first time that they were together seemed to have been lost to him.  He found himself fixing Brendon drinks and making sure he got what he wanted to eat.  He checked that Brendon was getting enough sleep and that his encounters with over-zealous fans weren’t troubling him.  They held hands and kissed and people began to treat them as though they were a couple, which, Ryan supposed, they were.  But no single moment between them had come close to the intensity of that night in the hotel room and Ryan began to mourn the loss.

After another week of shows Brendon was scheduled for a trip home to visit his family.  A couple of days before he had begun to get twitchy…twitchier than usual that is.  Ryan did his best to reassure him, he didn’t specifically mention the trip home but he made sure he gave Brendon extra cuddles and kisses and lavished affection on him.  He wanted to give his friend a ready supply to draw on when he was home with his less than tactile family.

Brendon didn’t kiss Ryan goodbye before he got into the car to leave for Nevada.  He looked young and frightened and wore dark loose clothes that didn’t suit his flamboyant personality.  Ryan stood and watched the car drive away with a lump in his throat.

* * * *

Ryan hadn’t expected Brendon back until Monday, when the bus had moved to California, so he was more than a little surprised when the curtains of his bunk were yanked apart early on Sunday evening to reveal Brendon, soaked through from the rain and still clutching his suitcase.

“Brendon!  Fuck, Bren!”

Ryan plucked the headphones from his ears and chucked his book across the bed, jumping up on to his knees and extending his arms, but when he got a good look at the expression on Brendon’s face he dropped his hands into his lap.

“Bren…what happened…what is it?”

“I just…I couldn’t…they don’t…my collar…I want it…where is it Ryan?”

“Your collar?”

“Where is it?  Where?”  Brendon’s eyes filled with tears and he shouted the words at Ryan.

“It’s here Brendon, its right here…”  Ryan reached over to the cabinet beside his bed and opened the top drawer, not taking his eyes off Brendon.  “Here.”  He took out the thin black collar and held it out to the distraught boy in front of him.  “Here.”  He said again.

Brendon fell down on to his knees, dropping his suitcase and unbuttoning the top two buttons of the black shirt he was wearing.  “Put it on me.  Please.  Put it on me.”  His breathing was heavy and salty droplets were beginning to run down his cheeks.

“Brendon, just tell me what’s wrong.”  Ryan pleaded, placing a hand gently on the top of Brendon’s lowered head.

“Not now…later…please Ryan…put it on me.”

There was something about the desperate, urgent tone in Brendon’s voice that made Ryan’s hands shake.  As carefully as he could he leant forward and buckled the collar in place around Brendon’s throat, fastening it as loosely as possible.  Brendon’s hand shot up to catch Ryan’s wrist before his hand could move away.  “Tighter.”  He whispered hoarsely and he looked up into Ryan’s eyes, begging him.  Ryan undid the buckle and pulled the strap tighter around Brendon’s throat.  Brendon closed his eyes and let out a deep breath.  He kept his hand on Ryan’s and held it flat to his cheek.

“I need to let it out.  Help me.”  He said softly.

“What?…Bren I don’t understand, tell me what you need.”

“I need to fucking SCREAM Ryan.” The huge brown eyes popped open again with such fierce intensity that Ryan could not hold their gaze.  Brendon tightened his grip of Ryan’s hand, digging his nails into the flesh.  “I need to scream.”

Whether it was the pain from Brendon’s sudden attack or a flash of understanding Ryan could not be sure, but something inside of him clicked and he knew precisely what he had to do.  He brushed Brendon’s hand away from his and leant back, away from the kneeling boy.

“That hurt.”

“I didn’t mean to, Ryan, I just…”

“Stop apologising.  I don’t want you to apologise.  Stand up.”

Brendon rose quickly to his feet; face still wet from tears although the crying had stopped for the time being.  He raised both hands to the collar around his neck and clutched at it.

“Take your shirt off.”  Brendon unfastened the rest of the buttons instantly, not taking his eyes from Ryan’s for one second.  He dropped the clothing to the floor and placed his hands deliberately, neatly, by his sides.

“Shoes.  Socks.  Off.”  Brendon balanced on one leg and then the other, stripping his feet bare.

“Pants too.”

Their eyes remained locked on to one another as Brendon pulled open the buttons of his pants and let them drop to the floor, stepping out of them and kicking them to one side. 

“Everything.”  Demanded Ryan.

Brendon hesitated for a tiny second before taking hold of the waistband of his underwear and pulling them down, stepping over them and dropping them on to the pile of clothes at his feet.  His cock was not fully erect and there was sweat on his stomach.

Ryan stood up opposite him and hooked a long, thin finger through the D-Ring on the front of Brendon’s collar.

“Follow.”

He tugged firmly and turned in the direction of the living area, pulling the other boy behind him by his neck.  Brendon stumbled briefly, then found his footing, stooped over slightly, and did as instructed.

At the front end of the bus Ryan stopped, turned to Brendon and placed his other hand in the boy’s hair, grabbing a fistful.  He held his face close to Brendon’s, deliberately forcing Brendon lower so that he could look down on him.

“You want me to hurt you.”  He stated.

“Yes.”  Brendon whispered.

“Get over there.”  Ryan yanked at Brendon’s collar, forcing him to bend forwards over the low coffee table in the centre of the room.  Brendon fell awkwardly and put out his hands to steady himself.  Ryan’s hands were immediately on his back, pushing him down until he was laying across the table, his cock pressing painfully into the hard wood.  Ryan held his palm flat on the small of Brendon’s back and applied all his weight.  Brendon pressed his cheek against the table and groaned softly.

“You wanna scream, Brendon?”   He emphasised the word scream by bringing down the flat of his hand on Brendon’s naked ass.

“Ugh…yes.”

“You want me to make you scream”

“Ahh…Yes Ryan!”

“Beg me.”  Ryan removed his hand and Brendon stayed put, only squirming slightly to brace himself firmly against the cold wooden table.  As Brendon poured forth his urgent pleas Ryan took off his belt and prepared to beat his pet.

“Please Ry…I want to scream…I want you to beat me…make me hurt…and cry…and then…UGH!”

His sobbing was interrupted by the loud crack of leather on flesh as Ryan began to rain heavy blows down rhythmically on Brendon’s helpless buttocks.  He did scream then, low, guttural cries of pain that became hoarse and indistinguishable from each other as the blows continued relentlessly, painting a deep red blot on Brendon’s perfect ass.  Ryan hit the same spot over and over again, then lowered his wrist to stroke the tender tops of Brendon’s thighs, forcing new screams and greedy pleas for more and less and everything in between.

Ryan was lost for a moment, only wanting to hit harder, more precisely, more viciously at Brendon’s raw skin.  His cock was rock hard in his pants and he used his other hand to release it, ripping his jeans open and wrapping his fist around his erection, barely breaking his rhythm of torment on Brendon’s body.  He was hitting the boy’s back now, flicking the belt over the top of his wrist and letting the end of it flop down in between Brendon’s shoulder blades.  No bonds held Brendon to that table but he could not move, did not want to move.  He only trembled with the exertion of it, closing his eyes and riding the wave of pain that started at his feet and swept across the back of his legs before landing with a thud in his stomach, only to start its journey again.  He sobbed and wailed and poured out his soul in the ecstasy of catharsis.

Ryan was pumping his hand on his cock now and at the moment of climax he could not raise his arm to beat Brendon, instead dropping the belt to the floor and thrusting his hips forward to spill his seed all over the angry red of the beaten back.  Brendon was groaning and sobbing and didn’t seem to notice this humiliation.  Instead he started chanting over and over again, so hoarsely that Ryan could not make out the words at first.

“Thank you…thank you…thank you…”

Ryan’s senses returned and he walked around to where Brendon’s face lay flat on the table, his arms stretched out in front of him, hands hanging limply from the wrists over the edge of the table.  Ryan crouched down in front of the broken boy and tentatively reached out a hand to stroke the cheek, damp and hot with sweat and tears.

“Okay,”  said Ryan, surely.  “It’s okay.”  He ran fingers down the arms and took the hands in his, raising the arms upwards so that he could pull Brendon into a tight embrace.

“It’s okay…okay…”  He repeated over and over again and Brendon cried into his chest.  “Everything’s okay.” 

Ryan rose from the chair, stepped over the pile in front of him and stood close to Brendon looking down at the stubborn boy.  “I know what you need, Brendon.  And that’s a different thing entirely.  Now are you going to behave yourself and let me have my way with you or am I going to have to lock you in that closet over there and let you think about this for a while?”

Brendon held Ryan’s eye contact for as long as he could stand but the piercing green eyes were reading his mind again and he lowered his chin.  “No.”  He mumbled.

“No, you are not going to behave yourself or no, I am not going to have to lock you in the closet?”

“No you are not going to have to lock me in the closet.” Brendon sulked.

“Good.  But for future reference I believe we had agreed on “No Ryan.”

“No Ryan.”

“That’s better.  Now lift up your arms so I can take this adorable jumper off you.”

Brendon obeyed and Ryan stripped him to the waist, unable to stop himself from planting a sweet kiss on Brendon’s pouting lips.

“Arms down.”  And down they went.  “Now you are going to remain perfectly still and calm, Brendon, do you understand me?”  It wasn’t really a question but Ryan was a stickler for punctuation.

He reached down to the floor and swept up the first length of hemp, un-knotting it and letting one end fall untangled to the ground.  He doubled it over and found the centre.  “Turn around.”  Brendon turned, slightly intrigued by the obvious preparation Ryan had put into this.  Ryan tied Brendon’s wrists off quickly behind his back; cinching the bind between the two hands to be sure it was good and tight.  The rough rope dug into the soft flesh and Brendon wiggled slightly but kept his feet rooted to the spot.  A long end still dangled from the rope and Ryan used it to repeat the bind around Brendon’s elbows, tugging them uncomfortably together behind the boy, forcing the shoulder blades backwards and the chest out.  Brendon lost his balance for a second but Ryan held him firm and righted him.  Brendon was squirming rhythmically in the bind, leaning back against Ryan, and it was clear that the tightness of the tie was causing pleasure more than it was pain.

“Does that feel good?”  Ryan whispered in to the struggling boy’s ear.

“Hurts.”

“That’s not what I asked.”

“Feels good.”

Ryan lifted a hand up in front of Brendon’s face and gripped him round the neck, pulling him roughly backwards against his own body.  Brendon pressed the back of his head in to Ryan’s torso and breathed heavily, lips parted.

“You like it, don’t you?”

“Yes Ryan.”

“You want more don’t you?”

“Yes Ryan.  Please.”

“Such a good boy.”

Ryan released Brendon’s neck and spun him round to face him.  He loved the way Brendon’s chest stuck out, like he was offering himself up to his owner’s touch.  Ryan stroked his face.

“Pretty face.”  He kissed the cheek.  “Pretty eyes.” He kissed the eyelids.  “And these lips…well they’re something other than pretty, aren’t they Brendon?”  He licked his tongue around the lips and Brendon poked out his own to taste it, circling it softly around Ryan’s, making the dominant boy shiver despite his control.

Ryan collected himself as best he could.  He had a plan and he was bloody well going to stick to it.  Ryan was nothing if not determined.  He reached down and took up the roll of black electrical tape.  Brendon’s eyes widened.

“Ry?”

“Shh.  For me, okay?”

Brendon lowered his eyes and Ryan felt a rush of pride.  He peeled back a strip of the tape and ripped it neatly from the roll.  “Lift your chin and close your mouth Brendon.”  Ryan placed the strip of tape firmly against Brendon’s full lips and rubbed it with his thumb to seal it in place.  Then he peeled of another, then another and repeated the process until Brendon’s lips were completely lost, forced together beneath the matt black coating of tape. 

Brendon groaned behind the gag and Ryan stroked his face, looking into his eyes.  “So pretty.”  He repeated and pressed his lips against the smooth surface of the tape, kissing and licking the gagged mouth. 

“Mnnggh”

“Kneel down.”  Commanded Ryan once he had managed to tear his lips away.

Brendon was a mess by now and fell awkwardly to his knees, losing his balance without his arms to support him.  Ryan steadied him and crouched down in front of the boy, feeling so much love and concern for his little pet.  Ryan kissed him again.  So much kissing wasn’t in the original plan but Ryan could adapt when necessary.

“Ready for your collar now, little puppy?”

Brendon nodded his head and looked up at Ryan.  Ryan picked up the collar and held it up in front of his pet’s eyes.  Brendon lowered his chin respectfully and Ryan buckled the collar carefully in place, smiling at Brendon’s sharp intake of breath and slight quiver of pleasure.  Ryan straightened the tag and ruffled Brendon’s hair. 

“Very nice.  I’m going to put you on your back now, baby.  It’s going to hurt your arms a bit but I won’t leave you there long, promise.”  Brendon nodded his consent and Ryan carefully cradled him in his arms and laid him gently on his back, placing his legs so that the knees were bent, feet flat on the floor.

Ryan took up another length of hemp rope and applied pressure to Brendon’s right knee so that the leg was doubled up and he could bind the calf to the thigh.  Brendon squirmed uncomfortably on his arms.  His jeans were pulled tighter across his hips.  Ryan repeated the action on the other leg as gently as he could so that Brendon’s legs were forced into a permanent kneeling position.  Ryan helped the boy back up and Brendon found that he could balance on his knees and his tiptoes but had to keep his legs spread wide to control his centre of gravity.  He struggled against the ropes more forcefully now and Ryan watched him steadily, ready to catch him if he tipped over.

“There now.  You look so fucking perfect Brendon.”  Brendon looked up with imploring eyes but there was absolutely nothing he could do except concentrate on holding the position and try to ignore the throbbing erection that was now straining in his pants. 

Ryan fetched his Sidekick then and Brendon gulped at what was next.  They both knew the dangers of making a record of such activities.  The whole Fueled By Ramen family had graduated from the Pete Wentz School of Stupidity with honours and Brendon knew Ryan would not do anything to put him or the band in danger. 

“I’m just gonna take one, baby.  Then I’m going to rip it straight on to the laptop and save it on the hard-drive.  Then I’m going to delete it from here.  Trust me?”

Brendon blinked up at him and nodded helplessly.

Ryan held up the device to immortalise Brendon’s submission.  To his credit, Brendon looked straight up into the lens and didn’t flinch when Ryan saved the image.  He waited patiently, squirming a little in his bonds, while Ryan plugged the Firewire into his laptop and downloaded the image he had just captured. 

“There we go…”  Said Ryan, holding the Sidekick up so Brendon could see the words Image Deleted on the screen.  “Want to see yourself?”  He indicated the laptop that was on the table nearby.  Brendon shook his head clearly from side to side.  “Aww but you look so adorable!”  The head shook again.  Brendon was struggling enough to deal with the image in his head of what he must look like.  To see the truth laid out in all its pixelated glory would be too much.  “Okay, love.”  Ryan crouched down and patted Brendon’s head and stroked his cheek and kissed his earlobe. 

“Alright?”  He whispered into Brendon’s ear, continuing to pet and sooth him.  Brendon nodded and whined a little and tried to nuzzle into Ryan, nearly falling over on his side and having to be caught by the older boy.

“Are you ready for something new?”

Brendon tried to say “Anything” but it came out as a grunt and he had to nod his head vigorously to support the statement.

Ryan stood up in front of the kneeling boy and began to unbuckle his belt.  Brendon’s eyes widened for a second when he thought he might be in for another beating.  He didn’t think he could handle the short sharp shocks of the belt on top of the dull aching pain of the ropes.  But when Ryan cast the belt to one side and began unbuttoning his jeans, his meaning became all too clear and Brendon swallowed and sat up straighter and tried to stop his heart from bursting through his chest. 

“This okay?”  Questioned Ryan, sensing Brendon’s sudden tension. 

“Mmmm…mmmm” Brendon’s head bobbed up and down but his eyes stayed fixed on the spot where Ryan was now lowering his jeans, revealing a pair of clean, tight cotton boxers that clung to his hips.  His erection formed a long, curved lump that pointed slightly to his left and Brendon let out a moan at the sight of it, feeling his own cock stirring appreciatively inside his jeans.

“Do you want this?”  Ryan’s voice was barely a whisper and Brendon knew that he was scared too. 

“Mmmm…”  He nodded more slowly and lifted his gaze to lock on to Ryan’s eyes, trying to convey to him just how very, very much he wanted it.  That mind reading trick would be helpful right now.

Ryan moved tentatively forwards until his narrow hips were inches from Brendon’s face and he could feel the heat from the captive boy’s face creeping through the fabric of his underwear.  He didn’t move forward further.  He wanted Brendon to give him this, he didn’t want to take it.

Brendon stayed still too for a few minutes, breathing in the scent of Ryan through his nose.  It did things to his mind that no drug had ever managed.  He wanted to get closer, press his cheek against the bulge and feel the way it was so fucking alive.  He nuzzled forwards and pressed his gagged mouth against the outline of Ryan’s erection.  Ryan held firm and gritted his teeth, moving a hand down to move Brendon’s head just a little to the side so that he could see him, watch what he was doing. 

Brendon’s head was moving back and forth now.  He couldn’t get his face close enough to Ryan’s body, couldn’t breath him in deep enough, couldn’t move his hands to grab Ryan’s buttocks or open his mouth to worship him properly.  He began to whine his frustrations through the gag. 

Ryan held on to the back of Brendon’s head and started to grind against his face.  He had thought before that at a moment like this he would want to take the tape off and let Brendon’s lips perform the job they were clearly designed to do.  Instead he just rubbed and rubbed his hard cock against Brendon’s helpless mouth.  Every now and then Brendon would moan and the tape would vibrate between his lips and Ryan’s cock and the two of them would become frenzied, locked together in this bizarre dance, not caring how strange it looked or how uncomfortable they were. 

At his climax Ryan simply held Brendon’s face trapped against his crotch, cutting off his breathing, his sticky seed leaking into his underwear and then seeping through the fabric and on to Brendon’s hot cheek.  They stayed like that, part of each other, Ryan stroking the back of Brendon’s neck, Brendon forcing himself to kneel up a little further, straining in his bonds, gently nuzzling his cheek against Ryan’s stomach and making incoherent sounds through the now damp and slightly peeling gag.

Ryan knew not to leave it too long before releasing Brendon and cleaning him up.  Important that Brendon was still ‘in the zone’…subspace, Ryan had heard it called.  It would be hard for Brendon to come back to reality and find himself still bound, helpless and with Ryan’s mess across his cheek.  So despite every muscle in his body wanting to collapse in a gooey heap, Ryan forced himself to untie Brendon’s arms, gently helping him stretch out the muscles, massaging the shoulder blades with the tips of his fingers.  He moved Brendon so that he was leaning against the armchair and knelt down in front of him to untie his legs, stretching them out too and taking hold of one of the little feet in his hand, rolling the ankle round, bringing it up to his lips and planting a kiss on the pink sock.  He leant across him and pulled the gag carefully away from the skin, glad that Brendon’s saliva had moistened it enough so that it didn’t hurt him.  He mopped his cheek with the sleeve of his shirt and then took it off and tossed it to one side. 

Brendon’s eyes had been closed the whole time and Ryan knew that that was what he needed.  When he finally opened them it was to find Ryan’s face close, his pretty eyes gazing lovingly at his friend.

“I fucking love you Brendon Urie.”

Once Brendon’s breathing had slowed and his whimpers had ceased, Ryan had simply taken the boy’s hands, now untied, and led him out of the room to a back door and into the moonlit street.  Ryan had hailed a cab and opened the door to let Brendon inside.  Ryan had only spoken to direct the driver to a hotel a few blocks away and Brendon had shuffled uncomfortably from cheek to cheek on the hard leather of the rear passenger seat.  They had sat side by side, their thighs touching, Brendon still wearing his collar around his throat, almost proudly now.

They entered the hotel lobby and Ryan instructed Brendon to wait on a soft white sofa while he went and checked them in.  There was a glimpse of recognition in the eyes of the hotel clerk when Ryan said his name but this was an expensive hotel and confidentiality was included in the price tag.  Ryan took the key card and indicated to Brendon that he should follow, then headed towards the elevators and pressed to call the lift.

Brendon felt a little awkward as they waited for the elevator to take them to the eighth floor.  Neither of them spoke but Ryan slipped his hand gently into Brendon’s and held on to his fingers lightly.  When the doors opened they got out and moved down the corridor to Suite 801, still holding hands.  Ryan swiped the card and pushed the door open to reveal a plush living area decorated in modern, natural tones, an enormous flat screen television affixed to one wall in front of a giant leather couch, strewn with obscenely fluffy cushions.  A door to the left led through the ensuite bathroom and into the bedroom where a King-size bed waited, made up with crisp white sheets that smelt of lavender.  They both grinned.  After the cramped living quarters of the bus this was privacy and luxury and comfort and they both felt that they had earned it.

“You tired?”  Ryan asked in the warmest, sweetest voice Brendon had ever heard.

“Not really…a little…are you?”

“A little.  But since we have this suite we might as well make the most of it!”  Ryan sprang over the back of the couch in a most un-Ryan-ish manoeuvre and lay sprawled out across the length of it, a mass of long limbs, one of the ridiculously hairy cushions falling across his eyes.  Brendon laughed and smiled adoringly at his friend.

“You’re so cute.”

“I bet you didn’t think that a half hour ago.”

“Actually I did.  Actually I always think that.”

“So I’m thinking matching bathrobes, room service and a cheesy movie…you in?”  Ryan had never seemed so relaxed.

* * * *

Brendon was lying across the sofa, his head in Ryan’s lap, inclined towards the TV where Kirsten Dunst was partying hard 18^th century style as Marie Antoinette.  Ryan’s movie choice.  He liked the clothes.  Both of them wore plush white dressing gowns with the hotel logo embroidered over their hearts.

Ryan was absentmindedly running his fingers through Brendon’s hair, oblivious to the shivers that he was causing to run down his bandmate’s spine.  It was late, maybe 1am, but the sleep in the afternoon and massive sugary purchase from Room Service had eased their exhaustion. 

Ryan looked down at Brendon, who had closed his eyes for just a moment.  Ryan pondered how lucky he was to get so close to Brendon he could see the myriad of delicate freckles that covered the boy’s face right across the bridge of his nose, barely noticeable most of the time.  Lying still with his eyes closed, his lips slightly parted to reveal a sliver of wet white teeth, his dark eyebrows pushed forward in an earnest expression, Ryan suddenly realised how young Brendon was.  Most of the time he oozed sex.  He pulled faces and jumped about so that it was hard to get a really good look at his features.  Being able to make those features still and relaxed only increased Ryan’s feelings of ownership.  He’s mine whispered the voice inside Ryan’s head.

One of Brendon’s hands, the one nearest the back of the couch, was already raised above his head and rested softly against Ryan’s stomach.  Ryan stroked his gentle fingers along the palm of Brendon’s hand making it curl up involuntarily and then spread out again, asking for more.  He stroked again, grazing his nails and the fingers tensed, the palm flexed wide, eager to turn the ticklish sensation into erotic pleasure. 

Ryan reached down and found the other hand nestled warmly between Brendon’s legs.  He took hold of the wrist and lifted upwards.  Brendon shifted on the couch so that he was lying more squarely on his back and Ryan pulled harder at his arms so that Brendon stretched out, arching slightly.  Ryan leant down and planted soft kisses on Brendon’s face; his forehead, his cheeks, his eyelids, his nose.  He let his hands wander, easing open Brendon’s dressing gown to reveal the smooth boyish torso, the small pink nipples.  Brendon moaned softly and opened his eyes to look up at Ryan.  He liked watching the look of intense concentration on the older boy’s face as Ryan’s cool hands explored his body.  Ryan took hold of a nipple between thumb and forefinger and squeezed gently, causing Brendon to arch further and flex his toes.  Ryan pinched again, harder this time and pulled the delicate flesh outwards away from the body.  Brendon arched again and whimpered slightly, a mixture of confusion and desire filling his eyes. 

“Shh…”  Instructed Ryan. 

Brendon wanted to do what he was told.  All the touching, the pain, the kisses, they were all hot, but it was the feeling of being Ryan’s own, Ryan’s toy, Ryan’s plaything, that made Brendon feel things he had never imagined it was possible to feel.  His back arched still more  and he locked his eyes on to Ryan’s, trying to communicate his want, trying to telepathically tell him that he would be good, he would do as he was told, he would keep still and quiet and give himself entirely over to him.

“Pete was right,” smiled Ryan, “I have got you well trained.”  As if to prove his point Ryan pulled at the tender nipple again and bore a challenge into Brendon’s eyes, which narrowed slightly at the pain but did not look away. 

“Mmm,” Brendon’s submission aroused Ryan beyond words.  Instead he leant down again and kissed his pet.

The tormenting fingers moved down from the nipples, grazing their long nails across Brendon’s taut stomach to the waistband of his blue underwear.  Ryan nudged the last of the soft white cotton dressing gown aside and revealed Brendon’s straining cock, clearly visible through his tight pants as though wrapped in cellophane…That’s an idea… mused Ryan …maybe another time.

“Do you want to show me exactly how well trained I’ve got you?”

“Yes Ryan.”  Brendon smiled at how hard it had seemed to say those words a week ago.

Ryan’s hands moved down further and he started to press the hardest part of his flexed palm along Brendon’s shaft, enjoying the way that the cock stirred beneath the fabric of the pants.  Ryan rubbed back and forth in a rhythmic motion, never too quickly, and Brendon’s breathing went with him, softly at first then becoming more like a pant.  His body started to tense and shudder and he mumbled incoherently to Ryan that he was close.  Ryan looked steadily into his eyes and said “No.”  He did not stop moving his hand up and down in a fluid motion and Brendon understood all too clearly what was expected of him.  He let out a strangled whimper and grasped fistfuls of Ryan’s dressing gown in his hands, clenching his teeth and pointing his toes.  He wanted so desperately to prove himself to Ryan.  To prove Pete’s words right.  To prove to himself that this was what he was. 

Ryan was impressed.  Brendon was showing an inordinate amount of self control for someone who was usually so spontaneous and impulsive.  He decided to step it up a notch.  He tugged at Brendon’s pants and pulled them down so that they bound his knees together.  Now he could wrap his hand fully around Brendon’s shaft and really milk the squirming boy. 

Brendon held out for as long as he could, which really wasn’t too long at all, before his body convulsed and his face contorted into an ecstatic grimace, eyes rolling back.  Ryan collected the lion’s share of Brendon’s load in his hand.  There was lots of it, which only added to Ryan’s admiration.  He had held out pretty well.  Really well.  But Ryan had ultimately got what he wanted, and for Ryan, the fun could now really start.

Brendon was a metaphorical mess.  He still shook and squirmed and there were beads of sweat on his forehead.

“Not a bad effort.”  Ryan was deliberately understating.  Brendon had not yet regained the power of speech.  “But ultimately…” Ryan chose his words carefully, “…ultimately you did not do what I told you.  Did you?”  Brendon managed a mumble.  “And now my hand is all dirty.”  Ryan pouted.

“Sorry.”  Brendon managed, not sure where this was going. 

Ryan ruffled his hair with his clean hand.  “Messy puppy.”

“Sorry.”  Brendon said again, surprised to find something still stirring in his tummy.  Arousal?  Or something else?

“When a new puppy makes a mess do you know what some people do?”

“…no.”

“They rub the puppy’s nose in the mess.  To teach the puppy a lesson.”

Brendon checked that Ryan was serious. He was.

“But I’m not sure that your little nose deserves to get all messy.  It’s such a cute little nose.”  Ryan touched it with his clean hand in a way that was both patronising and endearing.  Brendon smiled gratefully and nuzzled close.  He had never been a fan of his nose.

“That doesn’t solve the problem of my dirty hand though, does it Brendon?”

Silence.

“Does it?”

Brendon hadn’t thought that an answer was required but for once the polar opposite of the normal was needed.

“No Ryan.”

“Get down on the floor.”  That beautiful, commanding hardness had crept into Ryan’s voice once more.  Brendon slid from the couch to his knees and righted himself in front of his owner.  Ryan straightened up and held out his dirty hand in front of Brendon’s face.

“See what a mess you’ve made?” 

“Yes.”  Brendon did not look ashamed.  In fact, being forced to acknowledge his own desire, to look it in the eye and not feel pangs of self loathing, was beautiful.

“I want you to clean it up.”  Ryan’s words were clearly spoken. 

Brendon raised his eyes and looked up at his friend, feeling slightly rebellious as he poked out his tongue without a hint of the humiliation that Ryan wanted.  He tasted himself, both sour and salty at once, but mostly he tasted Ryan’s skin beneath his mess, and that is what he concentrated on.

Brendon was still licking hungrily at Ryan’s hand, even after it was clean, and Ryan couldn’t help but force his fingers into the eager mouth, rolling his knuckles around the lips, pushing the head back so the neck strained, before sliding off the couch to his knees and grabbing at Brendon’s naked body, replacing his own hand with his own lips, kissing and biting and licking urgently, wanting to swallow that sweet, sexy tongue whole.

They kissed passionately, hands grabbing at flesh, Ryan’s gown slipping from his shoulders to his waist so that they could press skin onto skin and feel the life that resided there.  Both boys were moaning into each other’s mouths, the balance equal, both lost in each other’s bodies, the totality of Brendon’s submission confirming what they knew already.

“I love you.” 

Ryan said it first, his lips pressed against Brendon’s ear as Brendon sucked on his collar bone.

“You too…I mean, I love you too…Ryan I fucking love you…I love you…I love you.”  Once the words had left his mouth Brendon kept repeating them again and again, each time more confident, more sure that he meant it.  “I love you, Ryan.”  This last time was like a full stop, a summary of everything that they both felt, and they clung to each other, body’s hot, taut torsos pressed together, a mess of limbs on the shag pile carpet.

“I love you.”  The last time Ryan spoke the words it was softly, tenderly, with love rather than passion.  Not that it wasn’t love before but he wanted to make sure.  He wanted Brendon to know for sure.

“I love you.”

By six o’clock all four band members lay asleep in a pile on Jon’s bed, gentle music still strumming in the background.  Their security guy Zach was the one to discover the sight and he took a picture with his camera phone before gently waking the lads from their slumber and reminding them that they had a party to attend.  Pete Wentz was holding a launch for Clandestine’s latest line and anyone who was anyone in the scene was going to be there.

Two hours later the four slightly groggy, still giggly boys were in the back of a cab on their way to the club where the launch was being held.  Brendon was dressed in the obligatory skin-tight white shirt with a thin black tie that Ryan had picked out for him and Ryan was all in black, a band of navy make-up painted across both his eyes ninja style, and his hair just perfect.

Outside they posed in front of a sea of flashing cameras and Brendon could not help but grin foolishly when Ryan put his arm around his shoulders and pulled him close.  Once inside they were greeted with champagne and shown to a booth.  The music was already pumping and a cluster of people immediately surrounded them, most of whom they had never met before.  Brendon and Ryan pulled faces at each other across the table when girl after girl approached either one of them and flirted outrageously, always slinking away unfulfilled when their advances were met only with friendly politeness.

An hour or so passed and the party loosened up.  People stopped being so concerned with how they looked and who they were seen talking to and began to actually enjoy themselves.  Pete put in a brief appearance at their table, climbing over the back of the couch the squeeze himself between Spencer and Ryan, his hand immediately finding Ryan’s knee as he launched into his usual monologue about what a beautiful boy-slash-girl Ryan was.  Brendon tried not to notice but could not help the jealous glances that crept out of the corner of his eyes.  He hated the way that Pete could draw those beautiful smiles so easily from Ryan’s lips and the way that, in the presence of his mentor, Ryan reverted to that shy coquettish behaviour that was simply no longer him.  Spencer got up and headed to the bar, in what Brendon suspected to be the direction of a particularly pretty young boy; and Jon made his way on to the dancefloor to throw some shapes and generally fall drunkenly about the place, a gold plastic tiara nestled precariously in his hair.

This left the three of them sitting awkwardly on the couch and Brendon was about to make his excuses, unable to stand being third wheel to Pete and Ryan’s special friendship any longer, when Ryan reached into his trouser pocket and pulled out something black with a silver glint.  Brendon sat horrified as Ryan showed the collar to Pete, whispering in his ear and giggling, pointing across the table at Brendon whose face had turned scarlet with shame.

How the fuck could he do this to me?

“Hey, Bren,” Ryan called across the table and Brendon’s eyes shot up, a look of pure terror and humiliation set in them.  “Why don’t you put this on for us?”  He tossed the collar across the table and Brendon’s hand jerked involuntarily upwards to catch it.  He glared at Ryan for a moment, his mouth hanging open dumbly.  Pete was watching his reaction closely, an amused smile playing on his lips.

Brendon looked from Pete to Ryan to Pete and back to Ryan, who nodded softly and stared even harder into Brendon’s eyes so that Brendon had that feeling of being hypnotised once again.  He swallowed hard and kept his eyes locked firmly on Ryan, trusting him with all his heart.  He reached up around his own neck and buckled the collar once again in place, moving his hands delicately back down to his lap and trying to keep his chin lowered as much as possible to hide the collar behind his shirt and tie, whilst maintaining eye contact with Ryan.

“Aww, come on now, Brendon, lift your head and show Pete how pretty it looks.”  Ryan slid his arm around Pete’s shoulder as he said this and the two of them stared expectantly at the boy before them.  Brendon closed his eyes tight and, with a look of extreme humiliation, lifted his chin to reveal the black leather band at his neck. 

“Wow, you sure got him well trained Ross.”  Commented Pete and Brendon cringed. 

“I know.  He’s adorable.”

Brendon heard laughter and then a whispered exchange that he couldn’t make out, before he heard Pete get up, kiss Ryan loudly on the lips and leave the two of them alone in the booth.  Brendon did not open his eyes but he did lower his chin back down and press his back into the couch behind him, imagining what a pathetic sight he would look to anyone who cared to glance over.  Despite the feelings of utter shame that churned his stomach, his cock was once again straining in his pants and he curled his fingers around each other wondering what else Ryan had in store for him.

“So adorable.”  Ryan’s voice close to his ear, Ryan’s hand now pressing on his thigh, Ryan’s fingers undoing his tie and pulling it from around his neck.  “Put your wrists together, baby.” Brendon slid his wrists forwards under the table and held them together, still not daring to open his eyes and risk seeing prying eyes watching this little game unfold.

Ryan deftly wrapped the tie twice around Brendon’s wrists before tying it off tightly in a double bow.   His long fingers continued to tease and stroke Brendon’s thigh under the table and he leant in close, whispering obscenities into his lover’s ear.

“This is how I wish I could have you always Brendon, tied and submissive, confused and helpless…I love that you can’t even bear to open your eyes…all you can do is listen to my voice and put your trust in me…you look so ashamed do you know that?  It’s pitiful really…”  Brendon blushed deeper. “You’re so embarrassed and yet still there’s the matter of this…”  Ryan’s hand moved upwards and wrapped itself around Brendon’s hard-on that pressed through the tight denim of his jeans.  Brendon moaned and closed his eyes tighter still.  “You can look as distressed and ashamed as you like Brendon Urie but this…”  He squeezed gently to emphasise his point, “…this will always give you away.”

Brendon moaned again and leant towards where he could feel the heat from Ryan’s body, pressing his ear closer to those lips that continued to taunt him, pushing him further and further down that strange, scary road that he half loved and half feared.  Ryan’s hand was moving rhythmically now under the table and Brendon’s hips began to writhe in time with it. 

“There, you like that don’t you?”

Brendon moaned his affirmation.

“You like feeling my hand on your cock don’t you?”

“Fuck, yes Ryan.”

“Look at you squirming there like a little whore.”

“Uh…I’m sorry Ryan…I can’t help it…”

“Well try to help it or I will have to teach you some fucking manners.” Ryan’s voice sounded hard, almost cruel.

Brendon tensed all his muscles and did his best to remain still but Ryan’s hand only moved faster against him and Brendon’s need overtook his self-control.  The hand was immediately withdrawn.

“Don’t say I didn’t warn you Brendon.”  And with that Ryan Ross got up and left.

    * * * *

Brendon sat horror struck in the booth at a complete loss as to what he should do.  At some point he was most certainly going to have to lift his eyelids and when he did he felt sure that there would be a dozen pairs of eyes judging him.  He wiggled his wrists experimentally and found the tie unyielding.  He wiggled his hips and tried to think about anything that would make his cock relax but it was no use.  He was truly under Ryan’s control and Ryan was not even here.

The dilemma of whether or not to open his eyes was solved for Brendon by a beep from his mobile phone.  Text message.  His two hands moved in tandem towards his pocket and he opened his eyes, keeping them lowered, not wanting to acknowledge the publicity of his submission.  He took out his phone and pressed SHOW. 

Get up and leave through the exit by the bar.  There is a door on the left.  Go through it.  There is a rug on the floor.  Kneel.

Brendon did not hesitate.  He rose from the couch, not making eye contact with anyone, and walked towards the bar, hands still bound in front of him, collar still in place.  He thought he heard a couple of people call his name but he kept his eyes locked on the glowing EXIT side in front of him and fervently ignored them.

Through the exit, a door on the left.  Through the door on the left, a rug on the floor.  Dim lighting.  Candles.  Hard aggressive music playing quietly. 

Brendon kneeled reverently, head bowed and waited.  There was someone else in the room.  He could sense them.  He hoped it was Ryan.

“So it seems you can obey some orders.”

“Yes.”

“A bit of a slut back there weren’t you?”

“...” What does he want me to say?

“Weren’t you, Brendon?”

“Yes.”

“Yes?”

“Yes Ryan.”

“I told you I like you tied and submissive and confused and helpless.  It turns me on when you’re obedient.  You weren’t very obedient back there in the bar, were you Brendon?”

“…No.”

“So you admit it?  You were bad?”

Brendon raised his chin and turned his head to try and identify where the voice was coming from.

“Ry…?”

Brendon was frightened.  He found himself once again in unfamiliar territory.  They had only just overcome the first hurdle of this bizarre relationship and now Ryan was pushing him further, refusing to even offer a gentle hand on his shoulder or an encouraging smile.

“You were bad Brendon.  Weren’t you?”

“Ryan, you’re scaring me.”

“Good.  I like you scared.”

Brendon gave up his submissive position and turned his whole body round, trying to force himself out of the spell and regain some control of the situation.

“Tut tut Brendon.  I didn’t tell you to move.”

Ryan approached him and Brendon breathed a sigh of relief until he saw the look in Ryan’s eyes.  They were cold and steely and they meant business.

“I.  Didn’t.  Tell.  You.  To.  Move.”

They locked eyes and Brendon again found himself with a decision to make.  To submit or not to submit, that was the question.  He still felt, despite the look in Ryan’s eyes, that if he made a joke, cracked a grin, brushed over the intensity of the situation, that maybe they could just go back to being friends.  Maybe even still hold each other sometimes at night.  Or he could turn back around, bow his head and admit his fault.

“Sorry.”  Said Brendon quietly, lowering his chin and sinking back down to his lowly position. 

“That’s better.”  Brendon thought he caught a glimpse of relief in Ryan’s tone.  The voice was warmer.  Not warm, but warmer.

“Now, answer the question.  Did you, or did you not, behave like a slut back there in the bar?”

“Yes Ryan.”  The answer was suddenly obvious.

“And I don’t want you to behave like a slut, do I?”

“No Ryan.”

“How do I want you to behave?”

“You want me to submit.  You want me to be helpless…you want me to be good.”

“That’s right.”

Ryan’s was directly behind him now, stroking the top of his head with the palm of his hand.  Brendon rolled his neck around on his shoulders and let himself go, knowing that whatever words were uttered forth from those beautiful lips, he would follow them blindly.

“Stand up and go to the wall.” 

Brendon did so.

“Raise your arms and place them flat on the surface in front of you.”

Brendon did so.

Ryan moved behind him and reached his slender arms around the young boy’s waist, grasping at the buttons on Brendon’s jeans, yanking them easily undone.  Brendon gasped.  Ryan unceremoniously pulled the jeans down beyond Brendon’s hips, taking his underwear with them, exposing the boy’s plump pale butt to the room at large.  Brendon inhaled deeply and pressed his palms into the wall in front of him.  He heard the sound of Ryan’s belt being unbuckled and removed.  He heard the sound of Ryan toying with the leather in his hands, folding the belt in two and throwing a few practise swings causing the air to whistle eerily around him.  Brendon clenched his buttocks.

“I’m going to spank you now Brendon.  That’s what you want, isn’t it?”

Brendon couldn’t think of a time when he had been more aroused, more afraid, more confused and more desperate to please anyone in his life.

“Yes Ryan.”  He whispered, his voice hoarse.

“Ask nicely.”

“Yes please Ryan.”

“Arch your back.”

“Yes Ryan.”

“Stick your butt out for me.”

“Yes Ryan.”

“Say please again.”

“Please…please…please.”

Ryan brought the leather strap down hard across both of Brendon’s taut buttocks, the loud ‘crack’ resounding around the empty room.  Brendon grimaced but remained silent, his palms becoming fists but his hands remaining rigid on the wall before him.

“What do you say?”  Asked Ryan, his face close to the back of Brendon’s neck.

“Thank you.” 

And then Brendon smiled.

Ryan beat him sixteen more times.  By the fourth Brendon was not able to remain silent and by the ninth he was sobbing, offering his heart and soul up to the merciless boy behind him.  After seven more cruel blows Brendon’s shoulders were curved downwards, his forehead leaning against the wall, sweat running into his eyes, tears running down his face, the cheeks of his butt glowing red hot and Ryan’s gentle sweet arms wrapped protectively around his torso, Ryan’s lips showering soft tender kisses down on the top of his head.

“Thank you.”  Whispered Brendon again.

They all slept in the next morning, their bodies subconsciously aware that this was a rare day off and it was time to recharge the batteries. 

Brendon woke up first in his own bunk where Ryan had tucked him before he and Spencer had indulged in one of their late night life-the-universe-and-everything conversations, which had gone on until the early hours.  The slim boy stretched out under the covers and placed his hands behind his head, a smug grin adorning his lips.  Life was absolutely one hundred percent mother fucking perfect. 

Where most people were groggy when they first woke up and took a while to get going, Brendon always jerked awake and was instantly perky, a fact which pissed the hell out of everyone else on tour.  It was nearly one in the afternoon which constituted an extremely indulgent lie-in for the hyperactive singer and he was soon bounding out of bed and pulling on the nearest T-shirt and pair of pants before heading out to cause trouble.

The back of the bus was his first stop, where he was delighted to find Ryan’s baggy and skins still strewn across the couch, several butt-ends lying guiltily in the ashtray that suggested Ryan and Spencer had got seriously deep into it last night.  Brendon sat down and mustered every ounce of control and hand-eye-co-ordination that he could manage, taking his time to roll four perfect joints, one a little longer and more loaded than the others.

By the time he had finished he was positively brimming with excitement and sat back with a triumphant grin on his face admiring his handy work.  True, the couch was now littered with debris and Brendon had managed to get more tobacco on the floor than in the joints but he would worry about that later.  Or better still someone else would.  He was a man with a plan and there was absolutely no way he was taking no for an answer.

He headed back towards the sleeping quarters where Spencer, Jon and Ryan’s bunks where lined up one after another beyond his own.  He sneaked through to the central bunk (Jon’s) and approached the music station opposite the bunk where sleepy-Jon lay snoring.  After a quick flick through Jon’s MP3 selection he found what he was looking for…Bloc Party, The Prayer, the most triphopfuckedupcrazyhappysong Brendon had heard in ages.  Why the fuck did all the best bands come from the UK?  Guess people over there were just way fucking cooler.

Brendon checked that the volume was turned up obscenely loud and pressed play.  The weird clappy-hummy intro began and Brendon began to shake his thing in strange sporadic motions in front of the stereo, his back to Jon, still sleeping in his bunk.  Once the beat kicked in in earnest Brendon heard the sound of angry bodies stirring in bunks and stepped up his moves, pretending not to notice the cries of “Shut the fuck up!”.

“Tonight make me unstoppable and I will charm, I will slice, I will dazzle them with my wit” sang Brendon, raising his arms above his head and doing a side to side jig with his feet that should have looked ridiculous but didn’t.

“Urie you fucking freak, people are trying to fucking sleep!”  Came Jon’s voice, loud and angry over the din.

Brendon turned around and grinned winningly at Jon, whose bleary eyes were barely open.  From his top pocket Brendon produced the first of the joints with a flourish and shimmied his way towards his grumpy friend, who couldn’t help but smile.  Brendon placed the joint neatly between Jon’s lips, still singing along to the lyrics and fixed Jon with his patented just-do-what-I-say-cos-I’m-a-crazy-person smile.  He produced a lighter from fuck knows where and held the flame in front of Jon who leant forward, smiling despite the roll up in between his lips. 

“I can’t help it, Urie,” said Jon after a couple of pulls (only Jon could get away with always calling Brendon ‘Urie’ and managing to make it sound endearing), “I just fucking love you man.”

By the time the track came to an end and the Ipod randomly selected a new song (Burning Benches by Morning Runner – check them out people) Spencer was standing in the entry to Jon’s bunk, wearing only his boxers and clearly attracted by the pungent smell of Amsterdam skunk.

“Did some fucker light a spliff because I just woke up out of the wickedest dream?!”

Out of all of the band members Spencer was by far the campest.  He was certainly not the gayest (Brendon’s hard-on for Ryan could prove that) but there was something comfortably effeminate about his mannerisms.  Brendon sometimes missed female company on tour but ten minutes with Spencer and the feeling passed.

The gentle piano portion of the track came to an abrupt end and the drums kicked in causing Spencer to involuntarily tap out the rhythm on the wall beside him.  Brendon whipped out the second joint, lit it in his own mouth, got down flamboyantly on one knee and offered it up to the drummer.

“Why thank you my good man.”  Spencer remarked in the worst British accent ever, and reached into his pocket for his lighter.  Brendon’s heart leapt out of his stomach a few seconds later when a giggle from behind alerted him to Ryan’s presence.

“Someone really ought to put a leash on you, Brendon.”

Ohgodohgodohgod.

Brendon turned around, the most ridiculous grin on his face, fighting the urge to run in slow motion along the corridor calling ’Ryyyyyyyyyyaaaaaaaaaaaan!’ and flinging himself at the boy like he was on Baywatch.

He settled for fumbling in his pocket for another joint (the super long one made with extra care) and, holding it out in front of him, looked up at the light of his life with puppy dog eyes.  Ryan had put on one of those teeny tiny t-shirts that still hung a little off his body and wore baggy pants which were barely held up by his bony hips, a slither of skin exposed tantalisingly between the two.

He moved forward and took the offering between his fingers, giving Brendon an affectionate smile and rolling his eyes.

Ryan plonked himself down on Jon’s bed and got comfy, snuggling up to the more manly bass player and taking a light from Jon’s half finished joint.  Jon randomly burst out laughing which started everyone off and Spencer flopped down in front of Ryan on the bed, all three of them adjusting until they were a cuddly­-giggly-smoky-mess under the covers, all smiling at Brendon who had retrieved the final spliff from his pocket and lit it for himself, fiddling again through the MP3s to pick the next track (I Will Follow You Into the Dark, Death Cab for Cutie.) 

Brendon mimed the cheerful opening line – “Love of mine, someday you will die…” – into his hand as though it was a microphone before pulling hard on the joint and grinning widely at the Masterpiece he had created.  All three of his favourite people in the whole entire world were laughing and smiling and looking rested in front of him and there was no schedule, no interviews and no torturous meet and greets with teeny fans asking stupid questions to worry them.  

The four friends stayed in Jon’s bunk for most of the day, getting stoned as fuck and laughing their arses off as the music selections got more and more bizarre.  It was amazing the cheesy shit that Jon had loaded on his Ipod. 

By four o’clock Jon was miming ‘I Won’t Say I’m In Love’ from Disney’s Hercules into a hairbrush, while Ryan, Spencer and Brendon, lined up neatly on the edge of the bed, shoop-shooped along and developed an increasingly complicated hand-dancing routine.

No-one selected the next song and so the Ipod (in a stroke of near-human genius) selected Orange Sky by Alexi Murdoch and everyone became instantly chilled.

The next few days were a blissful blur.  Every morning Brendon would wake up in Ryan’s arms and just lay there, paralysed with fear that Ryan would wake up and ask him to leave.  And every morning Ryan would eventually awake, catch sight of Brendon staring at him, roll his eyes and pull the smaller boy closer to him, nuzzling his neck and falling back to sleep.  Beyond the kissing and the holding and the meaningful glances when others were present, the power games had stopped.  Ryan still made the decisions and Brendon was happy to follow them.  Brendon was not great with decisions; he preferred to bring the fun and let other people worry about the details. 

The collar had remained firmly in the drawer beside Brendon’s bunk since that fateful night, but he found himself taking it out more and more often and toying with the silver tag between his fingers, reading it over and over again, wondering whether it would forever remain just a souvenir.

It was on one such occasion that Brendon suddenly realised someone was standing behind him.  He froze, trying to cup the collar in his hands and hide it from view.  Shit, I should have got rid of it.

“You’ve still got it then?”  Ryan.  Thank fuck.

Brendon turned around, still crouching, and smiled sheepishly up at Ryan.

“Errr…yeah.”

“Why did you keep it?”

“I dunno.  Wanted to remember I guess.”

Ryan gave him the sweetest smile and knelt down next to him, gently taking the collar from Brendon’s hands and running his eyes over it.

“You know I got this done three months ago.”

“What?”

“Yeah…there was a machine in this pet place and…I don’t know…I guess I thought it would be funny or something, at least that’s what I told myself at the time.  But then I had it in my drawer and I kept looking at it and thinking about you wearing it and…well you know what happened next.”  Ryan didn’t look at Brendon throughout this little confession.  His eyes remained locked on the collar in his hands and he caressed it with his fingers.  Brendon just sat quietly beside him on the floor, hoping that the thoughts that were starting to fill his head wouldn’t accidentally leak out of his mouth.

Ryan turned to face Brendon, the collar held in his two hands out in front of him, his steady eyes gazing intently at his friend.  Brendon knew precisely what he had to do, and angled himself towards Ryan, bowing his head slightly and closing his eyes. 

As soon as the cold leather met his throat Brendon felt something stirring in his pants and when he heard the quiet sound of the buckle being threaded and locked in place, and felt the tightness restricting his breath, a deep sigh escaped from between his lips.  Ryan smiled and used his fingers to carefully lift Brendon’s chin until their eyes met.  They looked into one another for a long time and Brendon was determined not to break the gaze, not to lower his eyes and show fear or uncertainty.  More than anything he wanted Ryan to take him back to that place where he did not belong to himself.

“Are you still mine?”

“Yes Ryan.”

“Good.”

Ryan reached down and took Brendon’s hand in his, then stood and tugged lightly, so that Brendon rose and stood beside him.  Brendon allowed Ryan to lead him out of the sleeping quarters towards the back of the bus; towards that cosy bolt-hole where Ryan’s books lived.

Once there Brendon stood and waited submissively while Ryan cleared a space on the couch, carefully marking pages in at least four different books before placing them in a pile on the shelf.  He smiled without agenda when Ryan’s hand moved to his face and stroked his cheek, one finger tracing a line along his lower lip that caused him to shiver.

“Day off tomorrow.”  Said Ryan.

“Yes.”

“Been a tough week.”

“Yes.”

“I’d ask you to roll a joint but we both know what a disaster that would be.  Why don’t you go fetch my stuff and bring it here to me.”  It wasn’t a question. 

Brendon left the room immediately, not even thinking that someone might see the collar and ask his about it.  He returned soon after clutching the skins and Ryan’s bag of weed, which he handed over obediently.  Ryan had found a comfortable position on the couch and took the offering gently, patting the couch beside him to suggest Brendon sit down.  He grabbed a copy of Life of Pi and placed it on his lap to provide a flat surface.  Brendon waited patiently while Ryan’s nimble fingers made easy work of rolling the joint and waited longer still while Ryan took the first few lazy pulls.  He wasn’t the slightest bit surprised when Ryan held the joint out in front of him, forcing Brendon to crane his neck forward slightly to take a pull, his lips momentarily touching the fingers that clutched the roll up.  Mmm.  Head clouds.

They continued that gentle back and forth until the joint was spent and both sat for a while, eyes closed, enjoying the way the muscles in their bodies were slowly unravelling.

“Put some music on.”  Said Ryan, not opening his eyes.

Brendon stood up slowly and moved in a trance towards the music station on the bookshelf, clicking it on and browsing through the mass of MP3s looking for that elusive perfect song.  He browsed the Playlists and found one titled Ryan.  He clicked ‘play’ and the most beautiful, soothing guitar music in the world filled the room.  Brendon closed his eyes and soaked up the music which reverberated through his whole being.  Ryan’s voice brought him back down to earth.

“Come here and kneel.”

Brendon tamely returned to the couch and knelt in front of his friend, risking a small smile up at Ryan, a playful glint creeping into his eye.

“You look happy.”  Ryan observed.

“That’s cos I am.”

Ryan reached down and ruffled Brendon’s hair, then moved his hand down and caressed his face, getting close enough to Brendon’s lips so that his willing slave could plant a few tender kisses on his fingertips.  The hands moved further now, down the tight fabric of Brendon’s T-shirt to the place where his hip bones jutted out before his jeans began.  Ryan gripped the material and pulled upwards and Brendon willingly raised his arms to allow his naked torso to be exposed and the T-shirt to be discarded.  The hands then began trailing their way back upwards, stopping for a moment to caress the tender nipples, causing Brendon to shiver and roll his head backwards to expose his throat. 

Ryan pressed his elegant palm flat against Brendon’s chest, applying the slightest bit of pressure to indicate to the boy that he should lean back further.  Brendon adjusted his weight, moving his arms behind him for support and leant back, legs still kneeling under him, trembling chest now fully exposed to Ryan like an offering. 

Ryan moved forwards off the couch, his knees falling each side of Brendon’s so that he straddled him, his crotch hovering a few inches from contact.  He ran a long finger once again around the circumference of Brendon’s collar and felt the sudden movement as Brendon forced another swallow past the leather.  Ryan leant forward and began to lay gentle kisses along Brendon’s throat, following the line of the collar, moving up to briefly suck the right earlobe into his mouth before proceeding down to the chest.  It took every bit of will-power that Brendon possessed to simply remain in that position, offering himself up to be devoured, soft moans escaping from his lips more and more frequently.  His head began to spin and Brendon thought for a second that he might faint, the tight collar still restricting his breathing and the weed causing his thoughts to ebb and flow in and out of reality.

“Fuck…Ryan…fuck…”

“Shhh,” Ryan soothed, moving his lips back upwards to find Brendon’s face.  He deposited two soft kisses on Brendon’s eyelids.

“Open your mouth.” 

Brendon obeyed.

“Wider.”

Ryan’s tongue snaked its way into Brendon’s helpless opening and licked gentle lines across the roof of his mouth, causing his pet to omit pleading whines as the sensations became too much to bear.  When Brendon’s tongue tried to meet with Ryan’s the older boy would retreat and wait for his friend to re-compose himself before continuing his sensory assault on his mouth.  Soon even Ryan succumbed to the utter intimacy of the situation and moved in for a deep, hungry kiss, moving his hand to support the back of Brendon’s neck and lowering his crotch for just a second to grind into Brendon’s lap.

Brendon pushed himself upright with his hands and wrapped his arms around Ryan, holding on to him as if his life depended on it.  The two of them remained locked in an embrace, the kiss that they shared becoming greedier and more impassioned until Ryan reached behind him and grabbed at Brendon’s wrists, moving all his weight forwards so that Brendon fell back, untangling his legs from beneath him so that he lay flat on his back, Ryan still straddling him, pinning his arms to the floor above his head.  Brendon bucked and squirmed and tried to maintain the contact between their lips but Ryan slowly began to pull away, gripping Brendon’s ample bottom lip between his teeth and pulling at it until a tiny spot of blood appeared there. 

The sudden sharp pain brought Brendon back under control and he let the back of his head fall to the floor, looking up at Ryan above him, breathing in and out heavily.

“Tell me you want me.”  Demanded Ryan.

“I want you.  Fuck…shit…I want you so bad.”

“Are you going to keep your hands there if I let you go?”

“I’ll try.”

“You want to please me don’t you?”

“Fuck, yes Ryan, more than anything.”

Ryan released Brendon’s wrists and was pleased that his arms stayed put.  He toyed a finger along the waistband of Brendon’s jeans, lightly tickling his stomach.  Brendon arched his back but his hands remained firmly glued in place above his head.

Ryan edged backwards so that he was straddling Brendon’s knees and he could see the erection that strained urgently from his friend’s pants.  He waited patiently and watched Brendon wriggle beneath him.

“I’m not gonna touch you until you lie still, you know.”

Brendon whined again and tried to make his body rigid, but his hips still writhed involuntarily against the floor.

“Still, Brendon.”  Ryan commanded and Brendon held his breath, stretching his arms up higher above his head and forcing his body motionless.

“Now you promise to keep still and let me touch you?”

“Yes Ryan, I promise.”

“If you start to wriggle I’m going to stop, do you understand?”

“Yes Ryan.”

“Good boy.”

Ryan waited another minute, loving the way that Brendon was so entirely under his control.  Then he very carefully reached forward and pressed his fingers along the outline of Brendon’s shaft through his pants.

Apart from a loud intake of breath Ryan was impressed that Brendon remained still and submissive, just a slight tensing in his legs eluding to the insane level of arousal that Brendon was feeling.

Ryan’s hand came down again and pressed harder on the solid member that strained up to meet it through the denim, then rubbed gently, fingernails grazing along the shaft.  Despite all his best efforts, Brendon was totally incapable of remaining in his prone position and he suddenly thrust upwards with his hips, desperate to feel any part of Ryan Ross against his throbbing hard-on.  Ryan’s hand withdrew immediately and Brendon bucked wildly beneath him, moaning like a whore.

“Awww, baby!  And you were doing so well!”

“Ryan fuck, pleeeease…I can’t…I tried…I need you…”  Brendon sat up and fell into Ryan’s arms shaking all over and pressing every inch of himself against the taller boy.  He kissed and kissed at Ryan’s face until Ryan laughed tenderly and met his kisses, allowing Brendon to curl into his lap like a child, the urgent sexual need gradually deserting the situation, to be replaced by sweet, tender love.

When Jon and Spencer returned to the bus a half hour later it was to find their two band mates curled up on the couch at the back of the bus, Ryan holding a book in one hand and cradling Brendon’s head in the other.