.:. Rating : NC-17 .:.
Brendon's engrossed in the want ads, enough that he's only startled out of it by the tap of a pen against his table and a droll voice asking, "What can I get for you?"
He glances up.
He begins at the pen - a red Bic - notes the long fingers and thin wrists, up the pale arms that disappear into a deep v-neck t-shirt in a fetching shade of blue. He pauses on the patterned apron tied around a pair of skinny hips, then flicks back upward to the bared collarbone, light brown hair curling at the base of the boy's neck, delicate jaw line, and a bemused pair of eyes. Brendon reads the name tag out loud. His voice comes out breathy. "Ryan," he says.
Ryan the prettiest waiter in all of San Francisco glances down at his name tag, then back at Brendon. "I'm not actually on the menu," Ryan says.
"You're not?" Brendon frowns, and Ryan cracks a smile. Brendon grins back at him. "Do you have any recommendations?" Brendon's pretty certain he wants the veggie burger, but telling Ryan that would make Ryan go away, and Brendon's not done looking at him yet.
"What were you in the mood for?"
Sweet lovemaking. "Vegetables," Brendon says.
"Well, you've chosen the right place," Ryan says dryly. "Have you been here before?"
"No," Brendon says, putting his chin in his hands and gazing unabashedly. "I just moved to the neighborhood, I'm trying to find all the good places but I don't have anyone to show me around." He bats his eyelashes at Ryan.
"Really, a friendly guy like you?" Ryan quirks an eyebrow at him. "You've come to the right place anyway, Herbivore's one of the best vegan places around. The red curry has a lot of vegetables in it, you'd probably like that."
"Okay," Brendon says. "I'll have that, and an iced tea."
Ryan half-smiles at him, writes his order down, and walks away. Brendon admires the view.
*
The cafe fills up after that, which is almost okay since Brendon's just about lost his nerve. The flirting was automatic, which had always been a problem back in Vegas, especially the time it happened with the inexplicably cute boy in the band with the stupid tattoos. At least Cash had let him down easy; when Brendon had accidentally hit on one of his jazz band classmates sophomore year he'd only narrowly escaped getting punched.
He can't chat much more with Ryan in the rush, but when Ryan boxes up the rest of his curry for later he hands Brendon the bag with a smile and a, "Hope to see you again."
"Definitely," Brendon says, and beams at him.
When he gets outside he notices an extra weight in the sack, and checks to make sure he got the right one. On top of his box there's another, with, "Welcome to the neighborhood - R," written on it in flowy script. Brendon shakes the box curiously before opening it to reveal an exceptionally delicious-looking donut. A donut. A free vegan donut for him, from Ryan the prettiest waiter in all of San Franciso. Brendon turns back to look into the cafe, hoping the cartoon hearts aren't visible around his head.
Ryan's taking an order inside, and when Brendon catches his eye Ryan smiles, a faint flush stealing over his cheeks.
Brendon is so totally in love.
*
The rainbow flag is an act of defiance. Granted, it's an act of defiance that he'll probably take down and hide in a drawer when his parents come to visit his tiny apartment, but for now he lets it fly. There it is above his TV, flying. Brendon is officially queer, and has the flag to prove it. He also has a crush on a boy, but he's had those since he was old enough to notice how nice cowboys look in chaps.
Brendon eats his donut. He has a neat little apartment, a rainbow flag, a donut, and freedom. Okay, it took a little longer to get here than he'd planned - two years of assisting his father as a land surveyor was a few years too long - but at least he didn't have to go on a mission, and at least he has savings from living with his parents. He's not in bad shape.
Now all he needs is a boyfriend.
Okay, and a job.
*
"You're back," Ryan says the next day. He sounds pleased. Well, he looks pleased. He sounds bored, but probably that's just his voice.
"You gave me a donut." Brendon grins at him. "Thank you."
"Sure." Ryan's cheeks are a dull red.
"You're my only hope," Brendon says confidentially. He leans in close to Ryan. "Do you know of any good places to go? Like...gay places?"
"I like Cafe Flore a lot," Ryan says, blinking. "It's like a coffeehouse and bar. And the people are nice. I know a few of the bartenders."
Brendon's heart leaps. "So you're..."
"Caffeinated?" Ryan says, but his lips are quirked up in a little smile. "Yeah."
"Me too." Brendon turns big eyes on Ryan. "I am so, so caffeinated."
"Well, I'm probably going to be there tonight after I get off work. Around eight. My friend Pete is working. So."
"So," Brendon echoes.
"So." Ryan swallows. "What can I get for you?"
*
Whatever. Brendon is totally counting this as a date.
*
Market Street after sundown is kind of insane. Brendon hasn't gotten this many second glances since his red glasses and pastel hoodies phase. He feels kind of like a piece of meat, but not in an unpleasant way.
It's 7:55, and from what Brendon can see Ryan isn't at the cafe yet. He deflates a little, shoving his hands in his pockets as he approaches the bar.
"You," a bartender says. The guy narrows his eyes. His arms are covered in tattoos, and he can't be taller than 5'6". He's hot. "You look like a cherry bomb."
"A what?" Brendon asks. San Francisco courting methods are so weird. Brendon preferred the donut, honestly.
"Cherry vodka and Red Bull," the bartender explains. "And let's see some ID."
"Okay," Brendon says. He shows his license to the guy, who narrows his eyes.
"You've been twenty-one for like five minutes."
"Two months," Brendon murmurs, "and a Cherry Bomb sounds good."
"I'm Pete," he says, his face splitting into a grin. "I could tell just by looking at you."
"Well, I'm caffeinated," Brendon says, before it hits him. "Pete, hey. You know Ryan?"
"You know Ryan?" Pete asks, quirking an eyebrow. He pours up Brendon's drink and passes it over to him. "What do you want with Ross?" Brendon clears his throat, a slight blush crossing his cheeks unbidden, and Pete laughs. "I hear you."
"He said he was supposed to come by tonight," Brendon says, giving another pathetic look around the sadly Ryan-less bar.
"Do you guys have a date?" Pete asks, looking interested.
"I think so," Brendon says, frowning. "Or I'm just going to look like a stalker."
"That doesn't work on him," Pete says. He shakes his head regretfully.
"What does work?"
"If I knew, my friend, we wouldn't be having this conversation." Pete sighs.
Great. So apparently Ryan's taste doesn't run toward hot, kind of charming bartenders. As a reasonably okay-looking bumbling former land surveyor, Brendon doesn't like his chances. He takes a drink of his Cherry Bomb. He's going to remain a virgin forever. At least a virgin with dudes. Well, if virginity means there's been no fucking. If it doesn't, then Brendon lost his virginity when he gave that guy at Krave a drunken blowjob and then passed out with his dick in the other guy's mouth. Since that's the worst loss of virginity story in the history of the world, Brendon's going with fucking. Also, he's going with another Cherry Bomb.
Brendon pushes his empty glass toward Pete. "Whoa there, soldier," Pete says. "Don't drink yourself to death in despair yet, he's here." Brendon turns around so fast it kind of hurts his neck.
"Hey," Ryan says. He's dressed a little differently than usual. Of course, Brendon's only ever seen him in an apron and work clothes. Although if this is Ryan's idea of casual clothes...he might be insane.
"Usual?" Pete asks.
Ryan shakes his head. "Just the Martini de Flore."
"Ry, you have to tell him eventually," Pete says seriously. Brendon's heart stutters. Pete turns to him. "Ryan's the type of guy who usually drinks absinthe. I'm just saying, it's something you should know."
"I like the way it tastes," Ryan says, then adds, "jerk," as an afterthought. Brendon's still taking in his outfit. Granted, it's a lot to take in. There's a scarf - maybe two scarves, a jacket, a waistcoat. Possibly spats. Spats? Also a newsboy cap. Ryan has a lot going on, sartorially. Brendon feels underdressed, even though he chose the jeans that really make his ass look great.
Ryan turns to look at Brendon, and Brendon blurts out, "You look nice."
"Thanks," Ryan says, and smiles. Behind him, Pete pauses from pouring up a florid green concoction to give Brendon an exaggerated wink and a thumbs up.
"Do you come here a lot?" Brendon asks. Ryan laughs a little. Pete winces and shakes his head at Brendon.
"Yeah," Ryan says, gracefully consenting to answer Brendon's stupid, cliched question, which Brendon appreciates. "The drinks are good," he says, then raises his voice a little, "the bartenders I could take or leave, though."
"You can take me anytime you want, sunshine," Pete says, offering up Ryan's drink. "Watch out for this one," Pete tells Brendon. "He's a heartbreaker."
"Yeah?" Brendon asks, his voice soft.
"I'm usually the heartbroken, actually," Ryan says.
"I'll drink to that," Brendon tells him. They clink their glasses together. When Ryan lowers his, he's smiling.
*
As good as Ryan looks in his three layers of clothes and sixteen different accessories, Brendon doesn't love how long it takes him to get them all off.
"I've been naked for like, an hour," Brendon whines. Ryan arches an eyebrow at him, hanging his vest up in the closet and putting his belt on some sort of rack - a belt rack? Brendon didn't even know they made those. Not that Brendon has any room to be complaining, really, since apparently all it took to get Ryan into bed was a few martinis and a tentative suggestion, but Brendon just really want to be touching him now, not standing here with his dick all hard and yearning and mouth ready for kisses as Ryan makes sure his pants are hanging straight on the hanger.
Ryan gets down to his boxers, and Brendon's past his shyness and fear of wrinkling Ryan's clothes; he steps into Ryan's space, kisses him hard on the mouth, and fits his fingers to Ryan's hips for a quick second before pushing downward.
"Hey," Ryan says, smiling a little against Brendon's lips, and starts to walk Brendon backwards toward the bed.
"Mmph," Brendon says, struggling with the boxers. They're caught on something, like - finally he just cups his hand around Ryan's dick to get it out of the way, and the boxers slip to the floor around Ryan's ankles. Brendon catches his breath, staring down at Ryan's cock. "Well hello," he says. Ryan thrusts his hips forward a little, bumping his cock against Brendon's like they're saying hello. Brendon likes the courtesy. He hopes his cock and Ryan's will become very, very good friends.
Ryan pushes him lightly back onto the bed, and Brendon obligingly crawls backwards, letting Ryan crawl on top of him and cage him, his hands next to Brendon's head as he leans down. He stops short of kissing Brendon, and Brendon flutters his eyes back open, letting his head drop back onto the pillow. "So what do you like?" Ryan asks. His cock brushes against Brendon's stomach.
"Um," Brendon says, wondering if this is a trick question. "Sex?"
"Really?" Ryan draws back a little. "I was thinking we could play Yahtzee."
Brendon stills, blinking up at him. Ryan blinks back for a second, then cracks a smile. "You," Brendon tells him, "are hilarious. Anyway, I thought you were inviting me up for a nightcap."
"You could have said no when I led you in here and told you to take your clothes off," Ryan points out. That was true, Brendon could have. It's just that Brendon really isn't used to people just wanting to have sex with him, especially when he wants to have sex with them in turn. It's kind of not something that happens in Brendon's life. Especially not after just two drinks and a bit of chatter so idle Brendon can't even remember what they talked about, only that Ryan kept licking his lips until they were all shiny and Brendon had a raging hard-on.
"How about you kiss me and we go from there," Brendon tells him, and finally, after an evening of gazing on his part and a lot of possibly flirting on Ryan's part (Brendon couldn't really tell - although at this point, safe to say Ryan was flirting), and after getting naked, geez, San Francisco mating rituals - after all that, Ryan finally kisses him.
Brendon's afraid it's going to suck, and it is a little awkward at first. Ryan's on top of him so he lets himself be kissed, parting his lips for Ryan's tongue, arching up into the press of Ryan's long fingers to his jaw. Ryan settles down over him, still keeping most of his negligible weight off of Brendon, just enough for their cocks to align with a sweet, easy friction. It's nice, not too rushed, and Brendon spreads his legs, the better for Ryan to lie between them. Ryan nips at his lip.
"Can I fuck you?" Ryan asks, and Brendon's hips buck, not even under his control. Ryan smiles down at him.
Ryan can indeed fuck him. He could fuck Ryan. They could stick with just blowjobs or handjobs or more naked making out (well, as long as they got off eventually). All of these things are true. Brendon could lose his gay virginity right now; Ryan doesn't have to know he's a virgin. "Yes," Brendon says truthfully.
"Good," Ryan says, "I've been wanting to." He curves a hand around Brendon's waist, then downward, brushing his knuckles over Brendon's ass as Brendon lifts his hips. Brendon chooses to think that Ryan's been wanting to since they met, since Ryan first laid eyes on him. Yesterday. Ryan first laid eyes on him yesterday, and now he's going to fuck Brendon, now Brendon's going to let him.
Ryan kisses Brendon's throat, his collarbone, and licks across one nipple, making Brendon shudder. He wants this, he is totally sure he wants to do this. Ryan is way hot, and Brendon likes his personality, and they have stuff in common, right? They both like vegan donuts, and the way Ryan dresses, and sort of girly drinks, and so far they seem to like each other. This is good, this is why Brendon chose San Francisco, because he wanted to have gay sex, and a lot of it, and now he's going to have some and it's going to be awesome.
Maybe Brendon's a little tense, because Ryan spreads a hand out over his stomach and asks, "You all right?"
"Yeah," Brendon says, except it comes out kind of squeaky, which sort of negates the accuracy of the statement. He clears his throat. "I mean, yes. Sorry. I usually don't, um." Have sex? True. Have one night stands? Please god don't let this be a one night stand. Sleep with dudes as hot as Ryan? Well, also true, but not something that makes him nervous so much as intensely grateful. "Have sex on the first date?" Brendon tries.
"Date?" Ryan asks, drawing back. He sounds mildly amused.
"Date," Brendon confirms, trying desperately not to make it sound like a question. There's a bit of a lilt at the end, which he hopes isn't noticeable.
Ryan strokes a few fingers over Brendon's stomach thoughtfully. It tickles. "Huh," Ryan says, considering it.
"Not the love 'em and leave 'em type, are you?" Brendon asks, and there it is, embarrassingly enough: his voice shakes. That's just swell.
Ryan tilts his head, like he's thinking about it, and just as Brendon's calculating the distance of the nearest window through which he can escape, Ryan says decisively, "No," and ducks down and licks Brendon's cock.
"Oh my god," Brendon says, his eyes rolling up to the ceiling in equal parts intense relief and absolute joy at the fact that Ryan is finally paying attention to his dick. Brendon hasn't sucked a whole lot of cock in his day, but the next time he does, he's going to do it like Ryan, because Ryan is kind of fucking amazing at it. Brendon would take notes, except it's possible he's forgotten the English language. "Gah," he says.
Ryan sticks a finger in his mouth alongside Brendon's dick, rubbing it up and down the length, which is weird but awesome. A second later he switches it out with another one - wow, there is a lot going on in Brendon's cock region right now - and then another, and then oh, hello, Ryan's other hand is parting his cheeks and slipping the wet fingers between.
Hi, right. Fucking, okay. Brendon tries to force himself to relax, but then the forcing pretty much makes him feel tense. Ryan just strokes him though, eyes flicking up to check on him as he prods around Brendon's hole, gently rubbing there. It makes him relax fractionally, but it's still not exactly a day at the spa he's experiencing here. Ryan sucks harder on his cock, hollowing his cheeks around Brendon's dick as he takes him halfway down, then more than halfway, and Brendon exhales. Ryan pushes a finger in. Brendon tenses.
Ryan slides off his cock. It slips from his mouth red and wet, and Ryan swipes his tongue over the head, like he's not quite ready to let it go yet. "Do you not usually bottom?" Ryan asks. He wiggles his finger for emphasis, like Brendon may have forgotten its present location.
"Not...usually," Brendon says, which is not a lie.
"That's a shame," Ryan says. He looks at Brendon's ass, and squeezes one cheek. Brendon can feel another finger prodding where the first is currently buried. "You were born for it."
Brendon's parents would probably disagree with that, though Brendon's not going to say so. "Um, thanks?" Brendon says.
"Just relax," Ryan advises, which is great because Brendon had totally not thought of that, wow.
"Okay," Brendon says, nonetheless doing an admirable impression of the least relaxed person in the world. Ryan goes back down between his legs, pushing them up and apart and kissing his inner thighs, soft feathery kisses that actually do feel pretty spectacular. Brendon closes his eyes and tries to will himself to just melt into it, the steady push of Ryan's finger into him, the slow prodding pressure of another. Ryan sucks a hard kiss into his thigh, biting down, and the sting of pain makes Brendon startle a little, then relax back into it when Ryan gets the second finger in. It feels strange, full, but not bad. He's tried it on himself, of course he has, it was just never like this, it was never on his back with long slender not-his fingers. It was never someone else. It was never Ryan.
There was really a point in his life where he thought he would only sleep with one person in his life, and not until after he was married to them. Granted, he'd been eleven years old and still listening to sermons and his parents.
"Just go slow," Brendon says, squeezing his eyes shut. He's the Hester Prynne of virgins, he knows he is, he might as well have a great big V tattooed on his chest.
"I will," Ryan says softly. He kisses Brendon's thighs again, then further inward. He dips his head down low, sucking another finger wet, and this time Brendon relaxes, pushing back into it when Ryan works the third one in. He's not really thrusting them, just keeping them there, spreading Brendon open, stretching him. "You're really tight."
"Mm-hmm," Brendon says, because yes, that's probably true, he's virgin territory and all. It hurts a little, feels good a little, and then Ryan shifts, keeping his fingers inside but moving up the bed, and there, that angle, that's better, that's nice, wow. Ryan gets up close enough to kiss him, starting to thrust his fingers in and out as he brushes his lips against Brendon's, and that's definitely right, that's a nice angle that feels better than he expected, even after trying it himself. He can't help the moan that comes out, and Ryan smiles against his lips and twists his fingers into Brendon's ass again.
The fingerfucking actually goes on a little long, and Ryan's leisurely stroking his tongue over Brendon's when Brendon starts to squirm. When squirming doesn't work to make Ryan do something else, he shifts his thigh up, feeling the length of Ryan's cock, still hard and ready. Ryan inhales and pulls back. His eyes are glazed, his lips red and wet, hair soft-looking and curling gently under his ears. Brendon is once again psyched and grateful to be sleeping with his jerkoff fantasy of the last day and a half. It's been a long thirty-six hours.
"Ready?" Ryan asks.
"Please," Brendon says. Ryan reaches over Brendon and shuffles through a drawer in the bedside table. Without Ryan's fingers, Brendon feels strange and empty, open and needy. He's aware of everything, his ass, his hard cock, the lingering sting where Ryan bit his thigh, the swollen feeling of his kissed lips. There's warmth where Ryan's touching him and cool air where Ryan isn't, and where he used to be. He reaches for Ryan before he really thinks about it, running his fingertips over Ryan's shoulder, and Ryan leans down to kiss him once more, condom and lube in hand.
"Slow, right?" Ryan says. Brendon nods. Ryan puts the condom on, stroking lube over it, and Brendon watches him, the way he bites his lip as he fists his cock, the way his fingers dig into Brendon's thigh when he pushes Brendon back, getting him into position. "I'll be careful, I promise," Ryan says, and squeezes Brendon's thigh once before rubbing the head of his cock over Brendon's hole and then pushing in.
Brendon's not sure what he was expecting, searing pain or lightning striking him dead, but Ryan stretched him enough that actually feels okay. Well, as okay as something as weird as this could ever feel, but Ryan is going slow, like he said, and he keeps his eyes on Brendon, watching him to make sure he's alright. It's not bad, and then Ryan pushes deeper and it's kind of nice, and then Ryan's all the way in and oh, hey, that's actually really nice, maybe even really great if Ryan would just shift marginally to the right - or Brendon could move under him, yeah, and there it is. Brendon moans, and Ryan looks pleased.
"Good?" Ryan asks, and Brendon huffs out an affirmative noise, wriggling a little under Ryan, fucking himself back onto Ryan's cock. "Tell me," Ryan says.
"Good," Brendon confirms. "Move."
"You're cute," Ryan tells him. Brendon would accept the compliment gracefully, but he has Ryan's dick in his ass, thank you, and he's a little more focused on what Ryan's doing with his hips rather than his mouth. Although kissing would be nice, now that he thinks about it.
"Come here," Brendon demands, and Ryan laughs and obliges, bending Brendon nearly in half in a whole new angle of that feels awfully nice, close enough that he can give Brendon a little kiss on the mouth, then another, timing each with every deep, slow thrust. Brendon clutches Ryan's shoulders, arching up as much as he can, accepting it, and Ryan doesn't stop, staying steady.
Ryan's been enough of a tease that Brendon's pretty close, especially with the fucking he's getting, just right, just what he'd hoped for, what he'd even fantasized about last night (and okay, tonight before heading to the cafe). Brendon doesn't ask for more, just pushes back into it, and Ryan gets the hint, fucking him harder until his hips are slapping against Brendon's ass with every short, sharp thrust, and they're just panting against each other, Brendon digging his fingertips into Ryan's arms and arching his neck, trying to rub his cock against Ryan's stomach.
There's not quite enough friction, but Brendon's resourceful and has five friends that can see to that problem. He works his hand down between their bodies and grasps his cock, squeezing hard as Ryan slams deep. He barely gets out Ryan's name before he's coming over his own fingers, come splattering his stomach as Ryan leans down to kiss him hard.
Ryan's not loud, but he doesn't take his eyes off Brendon as he fucks Brendon's ass, just watches Brendon as he pounds in, pulling back a little and really thrusting as Brendon comes down, letting him. Brendon licks his lips and sinks back into the mattress, pliant and open for Ryan. Ryan just gasps when he comes, his cheeks flushed red and eyes bright.
"You're pretty," Brendon says helplessly, and Ryan huffs out a laugh. He pulls carefully out of Brendon and gets rid of the condom, then collapses down next to Brendon on the bed.
"You're pretty too," Ryan says. Brendon rolls over onto his side and beams at Ryan. Rolling over kind of hurts, but he thinks he disguises the wince reasonably well. He takes Ryan's hand, tangling their fingers together, and grins.
"I wasn't sure you liked me," Brendon admits.
"I gave you a donut," Ryan says, like it should be the most obvious thing in the world, that a free donut is just a prelude to mindblowing sex. It's actually not a bad idea.
Brendon considers telling Ryan that he gave him his virginity, but that's actually a contest of one-upmanship that he feels no particular need to win. "It was a good donut," Brendon says instead.
"Good," Ryan says, pleased.
*
The next morning - well, it's morning, and Brendon can actually see around Ryan's room. He can see the Beatles poster. He can see the guitar leaning in the corner. He can see the record player and epic stack of old records, at least half of which he owns himself. He can see the notebooks, and the empty cans of Red Bull, and a few of the same boxes that the free vegan donut came in.
He can see the bong on Ryan's dresser.
"Dude," he says.
"Mmph," Ryan says into the pillow. He has an arm slung around Brendon's chest and an adorable case of bedhead.
"Dude," Brendon says again, happily.
*
When Ryan reaches full consciousness, he gives Brendon a blowjob good morning and then makes them organic toaster waffles. Ryan rolls his eyes when Brendon requests that he wear his little apron and nothing else, but he gives Brendon a kiss anyway and makes him a cup of yerba mate. Ryan has an afternoon shift, but not for a few hours. They have sex again on the couch.
Brendon would stop smiling, but he just doesn't want to.
*
"Man, if you hurt him," Pete says at the bar later, when Brendon lets go of Ryan long enough to let him go to the bathroom, "I will pick up the pieces and take advantage of his emotional vulnerability." He looks Brendon in the eye.
Brendon squints at him. "That's...very thoughtful of you," he says.
Pete gives him his next drink on the house.
*
So, anyway. Now Brendon just needs a job.