.:. Rating : NC-17 .:.
Summary: Brendon is the king of tickling. Who knew that would be what finally won Ryan over?
*kink warning:D*
“Brendon, stop it, Jesus,” Ryan says, smacking at his hands. “Come on, stop it.”
“Taking the Lord’s name in vain, I see,” Spencer muses. “So soon our children learn to sin.”
“Your impression of my mother is creepy as fuck,” Brendon says, not turning his head towards Spencer. He doesn’t stop trying to tickle Ryan, because whatever, Ryan is not immune from tickling just because his life is shitty. “Yeah, take it!” Brendon whoops, catching Ryan under one flailing arm. “Who’s your master now!”
Ryan makes a noise and pushes Brendon off the couch, falling after him until they’re tangled up half under the Smiths’ coffee table, Brendon still trying to tickle Ryan and Ryan mostly trying to punch Brendon.
“Try not to kill each other,” Spencer says, and wanders out towards the kitchen.
“Try and stop me,” Ryan mumbles, giving up on getting enough space to punch Brendon and just wrestling him instead. Brendon can totally handle that, he is the champion of that.
“I am the wrestling champion,” he says, just so it’s on the table. “I will wrestle your face.”
“I wrestled your mom’s face onto my dick,” Ryan says, and Brendon obviously has to defend his mother’s honor by rolling them in the half-foot of space they’ve got so Ryan’s back is up against the couch, and then recommencing tickling him.
“Oh man, Ross, you have messed with the wrong mother—shut your mouth!” Brendon is of the opinion that a Shaft reference is never out of place, no matter the circumstances, although his social studies teacher claims to disagree. But whatever.
“Seriously, cut it out,” Ryan says, and his voice is hilarious, high and weird, and Brendon is totally going to start making fun of him for being a total girl about tickling except—except girls don’t get erections, and holy shit. Brendon rocks his hips against Ryan’s, just to be sure, and—yeah, definitely, unless Ryan’s started carrying a Maglite around in his front pocket.
“Huh,” Brendon says, because that’s just unexpected. He rolls his hips again, and well, really, it’s only rational that Brendon would get hard too, that’s just basic proximity. And he’s a teenager, after all. And, well, Ryan.
“What the fuck,” Ryan says, and he sounds pissed now, frustrated-pissed, like he might accidentally cry. Brendon hates that feeling.
“It’s okay,” he says, hoping that will help. “It’s totally natural! Lots of people find me irresistible.”
Ryan’s glaring at him, arms still caught up under and behind him from Brendon’s tickle attack, and Brendon tickles him a little more, smiling as wide and reassuring as he can. “Seriously! Totally normal!” and Ryan’s hips thrust into Brendon’s and Ryan swears.
“Get the fuck off me,” he says, and Brendon frowns.
“Oh, whatever, Ross, you’re the one with the boner.” Well—okay, technically they both are, now, but Ryan definitely had the originating boner. He is totally at fault here.
“Well maybe you should have stopped tickling me when I said,” Ryan growls, and oh.
“It’s just the tickling?” Brendon says, disappointed. “It’s not, you know, how devastatingly hot I am?”
Ryan rolls his eyes, but Brendon can’t help but notice that he hasn’t tickled Ryan in ages and there’s still a dick digging into his thigh. “I think you’re lying,” Brendon says, brightly. “You are totally concealing your awesome and overwhelming desire for me!”
“Oh my God,” Ryan says, and then suddenly they’re kissing, which, what the fuck, but—but okay, yes, Brendon is totally down for this. For tonsil hockey. For making out. This is totally a thing that Brendon can do—”Brendon, Jesus, stop slobbering all over me”—totally a thing that Brendon can learn to do. With practice. Maybe he and Ryan can practice together, like, later.
“Spencer might come back,” he says, “um. We can do this again, right?”
“Oh my God.” Ryan pushes him over and stands up, glowering, just as Spencer comes back in with a tray of snacks. Brendon notes that Ryan definitely didn’t say no, anyway.
***
Brendon is totally invested in getting to do that again, so he is willing to wait for the perfect time. At least, he thought he was willing to wait for the perfect time, but it’s been almost two whole days and come the fuck on already, Ryan Ross, that is way too long to go between kissing sessions. There’s probably a whole book somewhere about how that’s too long.
They don’t go to the same school, which is the suck, because then when you factor in rehearsal and Spencer time and all that, it’s kind of hard to get Ryan alone before Brendon has to get home for curfew. So today he’s going to cheat.
“Spencer,” he says, in his most commanding voice, except it maybe cracks but that’s not his fault and it really doesn’t detract from how commanding he is, really, “Spencer, I think that Ryan and I should work on new material today instead of going to the practice space.”
“Okay,” Spencer says, casting a funny look at Ryan. “Brent, you wanna go get milkshakes?” Brent nods and they’re gone, shutting the door to Spencer’s room behind them.
“Wow,” Brendon says. “I really am commanding.”
“You really are a moron,” Ryan says, but he’s coming closer and he’s—yes! Yes! He is totally kissing Brendon again!
“I am the king of making out,” Brendon crows, half into Ryan’s mouth. “You totally want to make out with me.”
“Fuck if I know why,” Ryan grouses, and Brendon just grins wider. “Don’t say anything,” Ryan adds, and pushes Brendon onto Spencer’s bed. Brendon can get behind this horizontal making-out thing, totally.
Ryan’s all bones, and Brendon wriggles against him, trying to get comfortable. “Jesus, Urie,” Ryan says, and it’s kind of a moan, “would it kill you to stay still for five minutes?”
“Maybe,” Brendon says, grinning against Ryan’s mouth, “I’ve never tried, so technically, it could, and we don’t know. Are you really willing to take that risk?”
“Yes,” Ryan says, deadpan. “Absolutely. Let’s try it.”
At that, Brendon really has no recourse but tickling. Tickling is the best punishment for threatening Brendon’s life, he’s pretty sure about that. “Your ass is mine!” he cries, and then he’s bracing himself over Ryan, fingers working into Ryan’s sides.
Ryan’s curling up under the assault, and Brendon drops down onto him to pin him in place for better tickling advantage. Ryan is being weirdly quiet, and Brendon stops—just for a second, naturally—to check on him.
Ryan’s face is screwed up, his mouth open, and Brendon rests on his palms and looks at him. “Ryan?”
“You, uh,” Ryan says, and he doesn’t open his eyes, “you don’t have to—stop.”
“Oh,” Brendon says, head cocked, and then “oh,” and he looks down to where—huh. “Tickling?” he asks, and Ryan just makes an irritated noise and puts his hands on Brendon’s hips. Well, okay, sure, Brendon can totally do that. Brendon is like the king of tickling, anyway.
This time Ryan’s hips start bucking as soon as Brendon gets his hands on Ryan’s sides, and that is just really fucking cool, is the thing. “That is really fucking cool,” Brendon says, and Ryan hiccups a laugh.
“I gotta,” Ryan says, and then he’s snaking a hand into his pants, and Brendon’s stilling to watch before he catches himself and goes back to tickling Ryan, because holy shit, they’re, like, basically totally having sex right now.
This is not exactly what Brendon pictured when he saw himself having sex. Well—him and Ryan on a bed, that pretty much fits. But it’s better than that, it’s awesome to see Ryan all un-Ryan-y, all loose and desperate and holy fuck is that his dick?
“Take, you can take your pants off,” Brendon gets out, “I mean, if you want to! Obviously! But, you know—” Ryan’s pretty much already got his pants off, but Brendon can’t seem to stop talking. “You, okay, wow, that’s, can I just say I am really enjoying this tickling thing? It’s just going really well for me.”
Ryan groans, still jerking himself off, and he reaches up with his free hand to pull Brendon down until they’re kissing again, and Brendon keeps talking for a few seconds but then he’s just kissing Ryan, wet and uncoordinated, and Ryan is groaning into his mouth and Brendon can feel his hand beating against Brendon’s stomach on every upstroke and he wishes he could get his own hand down to his own cock and, and—
“Oh shit,” Brendon says, “did you just come? Oh fuck, this is so awesome. Wait, should I stop? Dude, can you do me now?”
Ryan puts his hand over Brendon’s mouth. “No more talking,” he says. “Afterglow.”
“Um, some of us are still in beforeglow,” Brendon mumbles against Ryan’s palm, and then, because Brendon knows what the proper response to this situation is, he licks Ryan’s hand. Weirdly, Ryan doesn’t say “ew” and pull his hand away. Hmm. Brendon may need new techniques with Ryan.
“Just give me a minute, Urie, for fuck’s sake.” Ryan pulls Brendon down so he’s spooned into Ryan’s side, and Brendon tries to ignore his erection, even though it is totally ridiculous at this point and blue balls is totally a thing and Ryan should know that.
“I want to be tickled,” Brendon insists. Is tickling a secret thing? Brendon’s never seen it in porn. Maybe it’s like really advanced-level sex, and they don’t let people in on the secret much. Oh, man, Brendon is totally having advanced-level sex. “Shazam,” Brendon says. “Kapow.” They don’t really express the feelings he has about this development, but they at least get Ryan moving.
“I’m not gonna—that’s my thing,” Ryan says. “I’m just gonna jerk you off.”
“No fair!” Brendon says, although, wait, maybe fair, holy shit, he totally wants Ryan to jerk him off. But no! There is totally a principle here. A principle of advanced-level sex. “No way, I want reciprocity. C’mon. I did you.”
“I don’t—whatever,” Ryan says, and his cheeks are red, but he lets Brendon snake out of his shirt and then he starts jabbing at Brendon’s sides.
“Ow, ow, stop, are you trying to stab me with your pointy fingers?” That is totally not how Brendon had tickled Ryan. Honestly.
Ryan gentles his touch, but it just makes Brendon curl up and laugh and twist away; it’s not getting him harder. “Okay,” he says, finally, “uncle, uncle, jerk me off.”
“Maybe I don’t want to now,” Ryan says, imperiously. “Maybe that was your reciprocity already, and you can go jerk off in the bathroom. Alone.”
“Ryan!” Brendon sticks his bottom lip out and makes puppy-dog eyes, because hell yes, he knows what works. Well, it works on his mom. Well, sometimes. Ryan laughs at him, but—but he’s licking his hand and running it down Brendon’s chest to his zipper, holy shit. “Yeah,” Brendon says, “yeah, come on, come on.”
Ryan’s stupid pointy fingers feel totally different when they’re wrapped around Brendon’s dick, Brendon’s actual dick. “This is like the best day ever,” Brendon says. “We just need, like, ice cream. No, brownies. No, wait, pot and brownies.” Or, or, oh fuck, maybe they don’t need anything else, just Ryan’s soft hand on Brendon’s not-soft-at-all-right-now dick, which feels basically like Brendon’s dick has died and gone to heaven. “I really thought my dick was hellbound,” Brendon says, and suddenly Ryan is kissing him, which makes it really hard to talk but, on the other hand, kissing practice. That’s definitely good. And it’s warm and wet and Ryan’s hand is warm and wet-enough, and oh God Brendon wants this to go on forever and ever but that is definitely not going to—”Oh,” Brendon says.
“Yeah,” Ryan says, and kisses him again. “So no more tickling me in front of Spencer. That’s just messed up.”
“But when Spencer’s not around, I can?” Brendon’s breathless, loose and happy, and he pulls Ryan in and squeezes him until he squeaks.
“Don’t tell anyone about it,” Ryan says, which is totally Ryan-speak for “hell yes, big boy, you can tickle me any time we’re alone, hot stuff.” With also probably a “stud” or a “playboy” in there, too. Definitely something like that.
“Okay,” Brendon agrees, happily. “Hey, I wonder if you can tickle someone on the dick?”
“Oh God,” Ryan says, but he lets Brendon keep snuggling him, and that’s plenty good enough for Brendon.
*
Happy Easter honeys!
And well if you don't celebrate, I hope you had a good day anyways <33