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.”