bandomstuffsit

Click here for Part One, headers and warnings

He starts Operation Get the Fuck Over Yourself as soon as they get back to Vegas. This mainly consists of hiding out at his house, letting his family spoil him and playing lots and lots of video games.

It doesn’t really make him feel better.

Neither does the fact that Brendon keeps calling him. Or that Ryan doesn’t. Or that Spencer keeps pulling up both of their numbers out of habit when he’s bored. After the first week, he has a million unsent texts clogging up his drafts folder—tons of meaningless things like why is it so hot all the time? and level 37!!! owned!!! that feel like they’re mocking him.

His instinct is to call Ryan and bitch to him about how his life sucks, but since he can’t even think about Ryan without remembering exactly how his hands felt on Spencer’s dick, that’ s really not an option at the moment. Besides, Ryan is probably busy doing other things. Sex things. With Brendon.

He tries his best not to think about it.

He’s been home for about ten days and is in the middle of dodging questions from his family about why Ryan hasn’t been over lately when the doorbell rings. Spencer’s mom goes to get it, and Spencer hears her voice go warm and happy when she greets whoever is at the door.

“Spencer, Brendon’s here to see you!” Ginger calls.

Brendon’s voice mixes with Ginger’s, laughing at something, and Spencer’s heart drops. Too many things happen inside him at once, the two strongest being an urge to flee and a wave of stupid happiness so fierce it makes it hard to breathe for a second.

“Spencer?” his mom calls again. Spencer swallows and pushes himself out of his chair, grateful for the fact that his dad isn’t home and his sisters are too preoccupied with a magazine to take a good look at his face right then. He tells himself he’s being stupid as he walks down the hall. It’s just Brendon. Brendon who is in his band and who obviously cares about it enough to show up at Spencer’s doorstep to talk to him. He can do this.

“Hi,” Brendon says, looking up at Spencer with a nervous expression. He’s wearing jeans and a shirt Spencer recognises as Ryan’s, looking exactly the same as the last time Spencer saw him. Except he also looks a hundred times better, somehow, like Spencer’s brain has let its appreciation for everything Brendon increase exponentially for every day Spencer’s forced himself not to think about him.

This is so not good.

“Your phone was off,” Brendon says. “So I thought I’d stop by. See if you wanted to... hang out or something.”

Spencer nods dumbly, putting most of his focus into not staring at Brendon’s mouth. So, so not good.

“Mario Kart?” he manages, feeling a surge of relief when his voice comes out more or less normal.

“God, yes,” Brendon says, lighting up. “Oh, and can we play Halo after? I haven’t played that in weeks.” He leads the way to Spencer’s room, almost bouncing up the stairs, and Spencer follows with a sense of dread that’s perilously close to excitement, keeping his eyes firmly on his feet.

***

“So, how are things?” Spencer asks when he can’t stop himself anymore. “Good?”

“Fine,” Brendon says, shooting Spencer a quick grin while keeping most of his focus on the screen in front of them. “Yeah, really good, actually. You?”

“Couldn’t be better,” Spencer says. His voice comes out too high. He puts his focus into killing a bunch of bad guys that have snuck up on them from the side. It’s a good distraction. At least until Brendon suddenly presses ‘pause’ and puts his controller down.

“I lied,” he says. “Ryan’s miserable.”

“He—what?”

“Miserable,” Brendon says, pulling his feet up and wrapping his hands around his knees. “You guys need to get over yourselves.”

Spencer doesn’t know what to say.

“He’s not Ryan without you,” Brendon continues. “Can’t you call him? Please?”

Spencer swallows. The thought of calling Ryan—of seeing him and being physically reminded of what he doesn’t have and may have realised (too late) that he really wanted—freaking hurts. Hanging out with Brendon like this is already hard. Seeing Ryan would be—yeah, no.

“Don’t pretend you don’t miss him too,” Brendon says, looking at Spencer like he knows exactly what Spencer wants, and how much it hurts, and like there’s a way for him to magically fix everything somehow that Spencer just isn’t seeing.

For some reason, it makes Spencer furious.

“I fucked your boyfriend while you were at the store,” he says, even though his brain is yelling at him the second the words are out of his mouth. “Shouldn’t you be telling me to stay the hell away from him?”

Brendon flinches, pulling away like Spencer just slapped him. Silence spreads between them, getting heavier by the minute and doing a great job of sucking all the anger and frustration out of Spencer and replacing it with a thick sense of dread.

“Fuck, I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have—”

“No, it’s true,” Brendon says, shrugging and not meeting Spencer’s eyes. “I know you did.”

“Shit,” Spencer says desperately. “God, Bren, I never—I swear we—”

“Did you know,” Brendon says quietly, “that when I first met you, I figured you and Ryan were together? Took me weeks to figure out you weren’t. And even then, I—the idea stayed with me I guess.” His lips curl up at the corner, like he’s remembering something funny, or maybe laughing at himself. Spencer quickly looks away.

“That’s why I thought I’d never have a chance,” Brendon continues. “Because if he were to date a guy at all, why wouldn’t he pick you? I mean, have you seen you?”

Spencer opens his mouth to reply. Then he closes it again, bites his lip.

“I should go,” Brendon says, pushing himself off the edge of the bed. “We should start practicing for the tour, though. Next week or something.”

The band. Right. Spencer manages a nod.

“See you,” Brendon says, and then he’s gone, closing the door to Spencer’s bedroom behind him. Spencer stares at it for a long time before dropping his head into his hands with a groan, wondering why he couldn’t just have swallowed his pride (or whatever idiotic impulse it is that keeps making him fuck things up worse) and let Brendon smooth things over.

***

That night, he dreams of gravel hitting his window, tapping out the beat to All the Small Things until he gets out of bed and opens it.

Ryan climbs in, wearing nothing but a mess of different coloured ribbons. He smiles at Spencer, reaches for him and kisses him like it’s the most natural thing in the world. His hands go to Spencer’s hips, guiding him backwards, and Spencer follows his lead blindly, kissing Ryan back.

“You gave me half your cookies,” Ryan says, toppling them both onto the bed and dragging his hands along Spencer’s sides to his chest. “That time, remember?”

He props himself up on one elbow and takes hold of Spencer’s hand, pressing it against a bright yellow bow on his chest. “Open it.”

Spencer tugs at the ribbon. It opens easily, falling away from Ryan’s skin, and as they keep kissing, Spencer feels it snake its way around his own wrist, circling its way up until it’s wrapped tightly around the top of his arm.

“Another one,” Ryan says, moving Spencer’s hand to a silver bow, then a blue one. Every ribbon he unties slips around Spencer’s body, wrapping up more and more of his skin. Ryan kisses the patches that are left, strokes slow paths along the edges that make Spencer shiver. “There. Now you’re perfect.”

“Perfect for what?” Spencer asks, arching up to press the top of his thigh more firmly into Ryan’s hand. The last ribbon is still moving, wrapping itself teasingly around his cock. Ryan leans down and kisses the crown, running his tongue along the underside, making the ribbon follow and tie itself into a large bow. Spencer moans.

“It’s for me,” another voice says, and Spencer turns his head, sees Brendon lying next to him on the bed, twirling one of Spencer’s ribbons around his index finger. “You’re all for me.”

He leans in and kisses Spencer, tugging at one of the ribbons around Spencer’s chest. It comes free as easily as they did on Ryan, and Spencer watches in fascination as it wraps itself snugly around Brendon’s stomach. Brendon moves to lie on top of him, and the ribbons follow the movement of Spencer’s arms and legs, anchoring Brendon’s body to Spencer’s and tying them together. The knots tighten gradually, pressing their hips together and making Brendon gasp hotly against Spencer’s mouth. Spencer moves his own hips, grinding up against Brendon and hugging him even closer as their lips and tongues meet for another kiss, then another.

“Merry Christmas,” Ryan says from far away, and Spencer wants to argue that it’s still summer out. He reaches out for Ryan with the one hand he still has free and finds nothing but air. The ribbons wrap themselves more snugly around him, suffocating him in heat and pleasure and Brendon, making his body melt into submission in a way that feels achingly good.

“I’m your present too,” Brendon whispers, moving his hips in another dirty grind.

Spencer wakes up panting.

***

Being in the same room as two people you’ve had wet dreams about every night for four days running is really awkward, but Spencer does his best to pretend otherwise. They’re going out on tour in less than a week, which means things need to get back to normal, and for Spencer, contributing to this apparently includes saying yes without thinking when Brendon asks him along for coffee after practice that night.

The three of them go to one of the coffee shops at the local mall, squeezing into a corner with their bags. Ryan goes to the counter, and Spencer debates with himself whether to follow him and possibly have an awkward moment now, or stay with Brendon and possibly have an awkward moment standing alone in line and watching them flirt over coffee later.

He chooses to stay.

“I saw Raiders of the Lost Arc last night,” Brendon says. “Not a good idea in my building, let me tell you.”

“More bugs?” Spencer says, making a disgusted face when Brendon nods. “What about the pepper-in-the-corners thing?”

“Worked for a while,” Brendon says. “They keep coming back. And my landlord is being a total dick about it.”

“Doesn’t he like, have to exterminate them?” Spencer asks. “Aren’t there laws or something?”

“Yeah, well,” Brendon says with a sigh. “Seeing as I’m pretty sure he uses the basement to sell drugs, I don’t think he cares.”

“Want me to smack some sense into him?” Spencer jokes. He’s met Brendon’s landlord. The guy’s definitely not someone Spencer would want to meet in a dark alley somewhere. Saying it makes Brendon smile, though. Spencer feels some of the muscles in his back relax.

“Grab this, will you,” Ryan says from behind, passing a big mug of something warm to Spencer.

Spencer reaches back automatically and takes the mug, putting it on the table in front of them. Ryan hands him some more stuff and then disappears for moment to get rid of his tray, leaving Spencer to look at what’s laid out in front of him.

There are three mugs and plates, not two. Spencer blinks. He looks at Brendon, who is reaching for his plate and trying and failing to hide a smile. Spencer swallows, feeling like his skin is too tight all of a sudden. The feeling intensifies when Ryan gets back, moving awkwardly and almost falling over his own bag while very obviously not looking at Spencer.

He reaches for the mug in the middle. “What’s this?”

Ryan sits down and pulls his own mug towards him, curling up in his chair before giving Spencer a look that’s somewhere between embarrassed and defiant. “Vanilla latte.”

“And this?”

“Blueberry scone.”

“Why?”

Ryan just shrugs. On Spencer’s other side, Brendon is smiling. A lot. Which seems to be making Ryan increasingly more embarrassed.

Spencer hates feeling like he’s missing something.

“What if I don’t want a blueberry scone?” he says, mostly just to see what Ryan’s reaction will be.

“You broke two sticks today,” Ryan says. “The ones with pointy tips you got on your birthday last year that the music store doesn’t stock anymore. You always want blueberries when you break something important.”

Spencer stares at him. As far as he knew, Ryan wasn’t even paying attention to him during practice.

“And the vanilla?”

“It’s Monday,” Ryan says, like that explains it all. Brendon’s smile widens.

“I got hot chocolate,” he tells Spencer. “With extra cream and marshmallows because Ryan is a clever, clever guy who wants to get laid tonight.”

Spencer almost chokes on his coffee. So does Ryan, which somehow makes Spencer feel a lot more at ease.

“I’m telling you, Spence, you’d better watch out,” Brendon says, giving Spencer a wink.

Spencer frowns. “Because?”

“Because he clearly wants to get back in your pants,” Brendon says.

Spencer blinks, feeling like the world around him has switched places with that from another dimension without him noticing. They’re talking about this? Talking and making jokes? Making jokes about him? a small voice in his head asks, making something cold knot itself in Spencer’s gut. He looks at Ryan, trying to figure out what’s going on.

Ryan looks like he’s wants to sink through the floor from embarrassment. He’s curled up on himself completely in the chair, holding his cup of coffee in both hands like a shield. The longer Spencer looks at him, the more Ryan shrinks away, and the more convinced Spencer becomes that whatever happens next, it can’t be good.

“What the fuck is going on?” he asks slowly, looking from Ryan to Brendon and then back again.

Ryan won’t meet his eyes.

“Ryan.”

“It’s nothing,” Ryan says. “Brendon’s being an ass.”

“Being an ass why?”

“Because Ryan’s in love with you,” Brendon says quietly.

Spencer nearly drops his mug. “He—what?”

“Ryan,” Brendon says, keeping his eyes on the way he’s slowly crumbling the muffin on his plate, “is in love with you. And—” He hesitates, shooting Ryan a quick look before turning to Spencer, “—I think I’m starting to feel the same way.”

***

It takes almost a full five minutes before Spencer can breathe again. He throws another handful of cold water in his face, keeping his eyes closed to avoid looking at himself in the restroom mirror.

Ryan is in love with you.

What the fuck just happened?

His head is running in circles around itself, telling him it was all a joke, that he will go back out and Brendon will apologise, laugh it off. Or that it was part of a fight Ryan and Brendon were having that Spencer accidentally got roped into. Except that would be really fucking mean, and Brendon is sometimes a clueless douche, but he’s not mean, and Spencer doesn’t know how to interpret what he said, because there’s no fucking way they actually—

I think I’m starting to feel the same way.

Spencer takes a deep breath and reaches for the paper towels. He’s going to go back out, finish his coffee and pretend like nothing happened. And then go home and convince himself it didn’t.

He runs his hands under the sink again, drinks a mouthful of water.

Here goes nothing.

“Brendon left,” Ryan says hollowly when Spencer makes his way back to their table. “We, um, had a fight.”

The seat across from him is empty, half of Brendon’s hot chocolate still left in the mug. Spencer doesn’t know what to say.

“Do you—I mean—do you need a ride?” Ryan asks. “My car’s right over there, and I’m not going back to Brendon’s, so.”

Spencer swallows. Brendon’s voice keeps ringing in his head, listing two very good reasons for why Spencer should not be alone with Ryan right now and running them on repeat. He picks up his bag, hesitates.

“Come on,” Ryan says, grabbing his own bag and slinging it over his shoulder. “I need to get back before my dad gets home.”

He walks out of the coffee shop without looking back. Spencer watches him leave.

Then Ryan turns around, realising Spencer isn’t with him, and Spencer’s breath catches in his throat. Ryan looks utterly lost, like he’s on the verge of breaking apart, and the look he sends Spencer is so full of defeat that Spencer can feel it mirrored in his entire body.

It takes him twenty steps to reach Ryan, and once he’s there, his body keeps going on its own, pulling Ryan into a hug that’s tight enough to leave them both aching. Ryan hugs him back just as hard, burying his face in Spencer’s neck and whispering stupid apologies over and over that Spencer realises he doesn’t even need anymore.

He has Ryan back.

Spencer takes a shuddering breath, feeling it flow from him to Ryan and breathing in the familiar smell of Ryan’s hair. He’s got Ryan back.

Ryan hugs him tighter.

***

“He wasn’t joking,” Ryan says quietly.

They’re parked on the corner two streets away from Spencer’s house. Spencer turns his head to look at him, pushing down the sudden tightness in his throat.

“Brendon,” Ryan continues, “He figured it out pretty much right away. He said we needed to talk about it and I had no idea what to say to him. I mean—fuck—how do you even explain something like that?”

“Like what?” Spencer asks. He thinks he knows—heard Brendon say it even—but what he thinks is still too huge and too unbelievable to fit into his head; he needs Ryan to spell it out.

“He thinks I’m in love with you,” Ryan says.

Spencer lets out an unsteady breath. “And?”

They’re close, probably too close for the conversation they’re having, leaning into each other across the armrest, touching all the way from their shoulders down to their hands. Spencer bites his lip, letting his head tilt the last few inches to the left so that the side of their faces touch.

“I am,” Ryan says, barely louder than a whisper. He pulls back with an unsteady breath, looking like he half-expects Spencer to hit him across the face.

Spencer leans in and kisses him.

It’s quiet this time, just lips against lips, barely breathing. Then Ryan makes a soft sound in the back of his throat and slides a hand into Spencer’s hair, and Spencer needs to kiss him again, deeper and wetter, chasing the taste of Ryan underneath the layers of caramel and coffee, wanting to get as close as he possibly can. It’s nothing like the biting anger and jealousy from the last time they were together; instead, it feels right in a way Spencer’s never experienced before, which is crazy, because they shouldn’t even be here. Brendon’s—

Brendon.

“Wait,” he says, breaking the kiss and trying to catch the thought that just seared through his brain. “Brendon said—God, do that again—he said—mmph—that he—”

“Yeah,” Ryan says, pulling Spencer’s head down for another kiss. “He told me. Said it was okay for me to want you, because he—”

“He—?” Spencer asks, word finishing on a low groan as Ryan slides a hand up the side of his thigh.

“Because he does too,” Ryan manages, tugging at the edge of Spencer’s shirt now. “Fuck, you’re still too far away. Come on.”

Spencer lets himself be pulled half-way into Ryan’s lap before his brain catches up with what Ryan just said. What it means. What Spencer might be able to have, if he’s got the guts to go for it.

He pushes Ryan back, presses their foreheads together until he can steady himself enough to give Ryan a significant look. “Then what the fuck are we doing here?”

Ryan takes a moment to catch on, but when he does, his smile is breathtaking.

Spencer scrambles to get back in his seat.

***

“Brendon, open up!”

Ryan is practically pounding on the door, and Spencer would worry about neighbours if he didn’t know that the ones in Brendon’s building probably wouldn’t care even if they heard a gunshot coming from his place. He presses close to Ryan, needing to feel him to keep believing that they’re really about to do this.

Brendon opens after the first couple of rounds, eyes widening as he sees Spencer standing there as well. He opens his mouth, starts saying something. Ryan pushes him into the apartment and kisses him before he even has a chance.

Spencer follows, closing the door and turning the lock. Ryan already has Brendon’s shirt off, tossed aside on the floor as Ryan moves them further into the apartment.

“I’m sorry,” Ryan says between kisses, touching Brendon’s face with both hands. “Bren, I’m so fucking sorry. I didn’t get—I just couldn’t believe you meant that—”

“Shut up,” Brendon says, kissing him back just as fiercely. “You’re here.”

He raises his head and looks at Spencer, pulling away from Ryan to wrap Spencer in a tight hug. “You’re both here. Jesus fuck.”

Ryan joins them, wrapping his arms around both of them, and Spencer feels laughter bubble up from somewhere deep inside him, unable to keep it in, because this, this is just fucking unbelievable.

“I’ve had a crush on you since the first day we met,” Brendon tells him, words choked out because Brendon is laughing himself, which in turn pulls Ryan along, until they’re all laughing so hard, they can barely breathe. “You did that flippy thing with your hair and gave me a death stare for putting my Coke on the amp, and I wanted to fall to my knees then and there.”

“You were wearing those jeans,” Ryan manages to add. “Brendon kept staring.”

“You were being all tortured and pretty,” Brendon counters, pressing a quick kiss to Ryan’s hair. “Fuck.”

“We’re really doing this?” Spencer asks, because he needs to be sure. These things don’t actually happen to normal people.

“So totally are,” Brendon says, and then he’s pulling Spencer in for a kiss, wrapping both arms around his neck and just going for it, with Ryan still hanging off both of them and leaning his head against Brendon’s shoulder. Spencer melts into the kiss, noticing the way Brendon’s lips are fuller than Ryan’s, more hesitant—like he’s waiting for Spencer’s permission before going any deeper. Spencer parts his lips, pulling Brendon closer. His tongue teases the corner of Brendon’s mouth, and Brendon parts his lips with a groan, giving himself to Spencer completely.

Spencer feels another set of lips brush the top of his neck, then travel across his cheek until they reach his mouth. Ryan kisses him there, then moves across their joined mouths to Brendon’s face, doing something that makes Brendon whimper.

Ryan turns Brendon’s face to the side, kissing him deeply, and Spencer keeps his hands on both of them as it happens, feeling the heat run between them like a wave.

“Let’s start with you,” Brendon breathes, reaching down and pulling Ryan’s shirt over his head. Ryan makes a protesting sound that Brendon ignores completely, chuckling low in his throat as he finds Spencer’s hands, putting them on Ryan’s naked chest.

“I love making you insane,” Brendon whispers, smiling conspiratorially at Spencer over Ryan’s shoulder before going for his pants. “Love putting my hands on you, making you come, making you lose it completely...”

Ryan moans loudly, a hint of desperation in his voice. Spencer wholeheartedly agrees.

Meanwhile, Brendon isn’t wasting any time, dropping to his knees and pulling Ryan’s cock out of his underwear. Spencer wraps both arms tightly around Ryan’s chest, steadying both of them as he watches Brendon’s mouth part around the swollen head, how his tongue comes out to play and lick a long stripe all the way from Ryan’s balls. Ryan throws his head back against Spencer’s shoulder, panting for air as Brendon starts going down on him. Spencer keeps watching, transfixed, as more and more of Ryan’s erection disappears between Brendon’s lips and comes back out, shiny and wet, as Brendon goes back to licking at the head.

“Please,” Ryan begs, grabbing on to Spencer’s arms and digging his nails in so hard it makes Spencer gasp. “I’m gonna come. You need to st—fuck, Bren—I can’t—”

The sentence finishes on a groan, and Spencer watches as Ryan’s whole body seems to spasm, hips working desperately as Brendon takes him deep, sucks him through it until Ryan’s body slumps.

“God, that’s so fucking hot,” Brendon murmurs, kissing his way up to Ryan’s face and bringing their mouths together. “Love you so much.” He breaks the kiss and reaches for Spencer, kissing him deeply over Ryan’s shoulder. He tastes bitter, a little salty—like Ryan, Spencer realises—and, fuck, that thought alone is enough to get him from all the way hard to positively aching.

Between them, Ryan squirms, like he’s trying to get away from where he is. Spencer doesn’t want that.

“Nu-huh,” Brendon says, obviously reading Spencer’s mind and pushing Ryan back, until they’re all kneeling on the mattress Brendon uses for a bed. “We’re not done with you yet.”

“I just came,” Ryan says. His cheeks are burning and he’s got his best bitch face on, which makes Spencer think his little problem where Brendon’s concerned hasn’t been resolved yet (not that Brendon seems to mind). “So yeah, that kind of does mean I’m done. Here, move over, I’ll blow you or something, I—”

“Not a chance,” Brendon says, putting a little more weight into pushing Ryan down. “Spence? Help me out?”

Spencer looks at him, hoping for a cue. Brendon does him one better, taking Spencer’s hand and bringing it to his mouth.

“Fuck,” Ryan moans, echoing Spencer’s thoughts exactly as Brendon sucks two of Spencer’s fingers into his mouth, making a show of getting them wet.

“You’re always torturing me,” Brendon murmurs to Ryan, letting go of Spencer’s hand and leaning down, taking Ryan’s lips in a surprisingly gentle kiss. “It’s my turn. I want to make you feel like you don’t even have a brain anymore.”

“What, like you?” Ryan tries, voice coming out far too breathy for it to carry any real venom. Brendon just laughs and tells him to shut up, stroking Ryan’s leg affectionately as he moves to the side.

“Spence, come here.”

Spencer shifts closer, hesitating. He doesn’t want to admit that he really doesn’t have much of a clue about what he’s doing. Then again, Ryan knows that, and Brendon probably does too. He bends down for a kiss, moaning when Brendon leans his head back against Ryan’s hip, making the side of Spencer’s face brush against the underside of Ryan’s dick as they deepen the kiss.

“Spencer,” Ryan complains from somewhere above his head, sounding rough and sexy and a whole bunch of other things that make Spencer think that Brendon’s plan to keep torturing him is a really good idea. “Come on, you’re supposed to be on my side here. We—gnnngh.”

“You should be naked,” Brendon says, leaning in to kiss Spencer again while one of his hands is doing something really interesting between Ryan’s legs, judging by the sounds Ryan is making. “Hell, I should be naked too. Why isn’t there more naked?”

Spencer grins, feeling some of the nervousness evaporate in the face of Brendon—even with an obviously dirty mouth and two fingers between Ryan’s legs—being so utterly familiar. He pulls off his shirt, then his jeans, taking his underwear and socks with him before starting in on Brendon.

He takes the pants off first, getting Brendon’s fly undone and pulling the denim down while placing little kisses on whatever skin becomes available. Brendon groans and pushes himself higher, getting up on his knees when Spencer pulls his underwear down and putting both hands on his ass.

“We’re trying to torture Ryan,” Brendon says, the reproachful tone in his voice woefully contradicted by the way he’s pushing his ass wantonly into Spencer’s hands. Spencer gives him a playful slap.

He expects it to make Brendon yelp. Maybe cuss him out and promise a gruesome revenge. Something along those lines.

Watching Brendon’s whole body shudder and a desperate moan break from his throat’s definitely not what he thought would happen.

Oh, wow.

He does it again without thinking, letting his other hand connect with Brendon’s ass, hard enough that it has to hurt.

Brendon’s head drops down against Ryan’s thigh, and the sound he makes is enough to make Spencer really happy that nobody is touching his dick right now.

“Seriously?” Ryan says, pushing himself up on his elbows and looking at Brendon with an absolutely giddy expression. “Spence, do it again.”

Spencer gives Brendon a couple of seconds to protest, and when he doesn’t, he brings his right hand down again, hitting the same place he did with his first slap. Then again, and again, until, at the sixth or seventh one, Brendon makes a high-pitched sound and presses his forehead more firmly against Ryan’s thigh, clinging to the sheets with both hands like they’re the only thing that keeps him grounded.

“Jesus Christ,” Ryan says, reaching down to card a careful hand through Brendon’s hair. “You came? Just from that?”

He sounds completely awed. Spencer shares the sentiment.

Brendon lifts his head slowly, still fighting to catch his breath. “Wow.”

“Yeah,” Spencer says, returning Brendon’s smile with one of his own. “Wow’s pretty good.”

Brendon keeps smiling, trailing his fingers over the sheets until he reaches Ryan’s thigh, moving higher.

“I love how sensitive you are,” he tells Ryan, drawing little spirals on the inside of his thighs. “After you come and relax into it more. I love how it makes you feel around me.”

He puts one finger in his mouth, getting it wet and pushes it gently against Ryan’s opening. Ryan gasps, and Spencer swallows hard as he watches Brendon’s finger push deeper, disappearing into Ryan’s body like it’s meant to be there.

“Wanna fuck him?” Brendon asks, giving Spencer a hopeful smile.

Spencer really, really does.

“There’s lube on the floor,” Brendon says, turning his attention back to Ryan and adding another finger to his ass. “Condoms too. Somewhere.”

Spencer almost falls off the mattress in his hurry to look. Brendon’s bed is surrounded by all sorts of crap. Fortunately, lube and condoms turn out to be part of it.

“Um, so how does—” he starts, breaking off mid-sentence because Brendon has moved around on the bed and he and Ryan are head to foot, fingering each other, which is so much fucking hotter than any 69 porn Spencer’s ever seen. He drops the condoms on the bed, hand going to his dick automatically. Ryan’s got his head pillowed on the inside of Brendon’s thigh, face hidden, and Spencer wonders if he’s doing what Spencer thinks he’s doing, if that’s his tongue opening Brendon up and making Brendon writhe against him. He speeds up the movement of his hand, lying down next to them and craning his neck to see over Ryan’s shoulder. Ryan’s tongue is working with sharp, quick licks, darting between two of his fingers as he pushes them in and out of Brendon’s hole. And fuck, that is hot, and Ryan’s body is right there, perfect for Spencer to rub up against, and he’s almost there himself—so close—feeling the tension build as he watches Brendon spread his legs wider.

“Wait. Spence, stop.”

Brendon’s hand comes down on his wrist, dragging Spencer’s hand away from his dick and gently pushing him to the side, away from Ryan. Spencer groans in frustration. He’s so ready to come, just needs another couple of strokes and he’d be right there. Fuck.

“Ryan, get up,” Brendon says, moving around to the head of the bed. “You get to be in the middle.”

Spencer’s brain whites out. He’s vaguely aware of Ryan moving close to him, someone opening a condom wrapper and helping him roll the thing onto his dick. There’s something cool and wet on his hand, sticky as he rubs it on himself, and then there’s Ryan in front of him, and Ryan’s hand guiding him to the right place, and then there’s heat, coming at him from every direction and making him moan desperately from how good it all feels.

He takes a deep breath, tries to keep it together.

“First time Ryan fucked me,” Brendon says, “he lost it on the first stroke. Hottest thing I’ve seen. Ever.”

“Shut up,” Ryan says, and Spencer can tell he’s blushing. “We’re so not talking about that, holy shit.”

“Someday, I’m going to get Ryan off without even touching him,” Brendon says, a decidedly evil smirk on his face. “Make him cream his jeans during practice or something.”

“That would be hot,” Spencer agrees, pinching Ryan teasingly at the waist. Ryan retaliates by pushing his hips back, and Spencer slides all the way in, feeling Ryan close around him like a glove.

He moans, rocking his hips to chase the sensation, and Ryan moves with him, helping him set a slow rhythm as Spencer starts to fuck him. He’s vaguely aware of Brendon changing positions in front of them—feeling Ryan all around him takes up most of his focus—and almost gets headbutted when Ryan suddenly moans loudly and his entire body arches.

Spencer reaches forward, past Ryan’s hips, and feels the curve of Brendon’s thigh under his hand, moving in sync with Spencer and Ryan. He bites his lip and opens his eyes; Brendon is on his hands and knees in front of Ryan, pulling away when Spencer does, making Ryan fuck him at the exact tempo Spencer sets.

“Harder,” Brendon pants, spreading his legs more and letting his head drop between his arms. “Spencer, Ryan, come on.”

Spencer couldn’t agree more. He puts both hands on Ryan’s hips, pushing into him as deep as he can go, faster and faster until he’s practically slamming Ryan’s body against Brendon’s. In front of him, Brendon is moaning, letting his mouth run wild and saying some of the dirtiest shit Spencer’s ever heard, while Ryan is reduced to a whimpering mess in his arms, barely staying up as Spencer pounds into him.

Spencer takes another deep breath, counts down in his head, trying to make it from fifty to forty, then to thirty, then lower still, dragging the pleasure out another thirty seconds, another minute—

Ryan comes between them, collapsing on a loud groan while his body clenches around Spencer’s, hot and tight and more than enough to push him right off the edge as well. His whole spine feels like it’s melting and shooting out through his dick, toes curling and fingers tightening their grip on Ryan’s hips enough to give him bruises. He throws his head back, hearing a broken moan break from his throat followed by a whiny sound he’s sure he’s never made in his life (and will probably be embarrassed by later. If he ever gets his brain back).

Brendon’s still moving against Ryan, working one hand quickly between his legs, and then he goes still as well, melting back into Ryan and tilting his head back, angling for his mouth.

Ryan kisses him, wrapping one arm around Brendon so that they’re all sitting back on their heels, coming down together. Spencer nuzzles the side of Ryan’s face, stupidly happy, and Ryan leans into the touch, reaching down with his free hand to grab one of Spencer’s, tangling their fingers tightly together.

“I don’t know about you guys,” Brendon says, twisting around a little more to get a kiss from Spencer, “but I’m thinking this three-way thing really rocks.”

“Ménage à trois,” Ryan says, butting in to steal Spencer’s kisses back. “Three-way sounds so... plebeian.”

“I’ll plebeian you if you start being a pretentious ass in bed,” Brendon says. “And your mom. Hard.”

Spencer starts laughing, can’t help himself. Brendon makes it worse, reaching over and tickling him until they all collapse in an exhausted pile on Brendon’s now frankly quite disgusting sheets.

None of them have the energy left to mind. Spencer reaches for Ryan, who settles into his body the way he has a million times, fitting even more perfectly now that they are no clothes between them. Brendon curls up against them for a while, pressing little kisses here and there until a huge yawn takes him over and giving them both a quick peck on the mouth before lying down beside them.

“So, guys,” he says, rolling onto his back and annoyingly taking most of the blanket with him. “How many people can you actually fit into a bunk?”