“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.