sparsenicjade
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The taste of beer on Ryan is a new one, one that Spencer isn't entirely sure how he feels about. It isn't a bad taste, it's just different, paradoxical in some way. Spencer takes his time kissing Ryan, trying to acclimate himself. Then he pulls off and asks, "How was the party?"

Ryan shrugs. "Would've been better with you there."

"Yeah, Spencer Smith," Brendon says, and puckers up expectantly. Spencer arches an eyebrow. Brendon scowls. "Oh, sure, Ryan gets kisses. Ryan's always everybody's favorite, nobody loves--"

Jon takes one for the team, swallowing whatever else Brendon was going to say in a kiss. He pulls back only when Brendon is slightly unsteady on his feet, and, holding him up, asks, "You were saying?"

Brendon waves a hand airily. "Unimportant."

Ryan, who has taken to snuffling tiredly at Spencer's neck, laughs. Brendon says, "Shuddup, Ryro."

Spencer doesn't have to look, he can feel Ryan rolling his eyes. He asks Jon, "How's the head?"

"Fine. I have a really hard forehead."

Ryan tenses a little against Spencer. Spencer rubs at his back but doesn't say anything. He's fucking tired. Playing in the sun and having to watch for projectiles at the same time evidently is more wearing to him than it was a year ago. Either that, or being stressed the hell out by everything that could go wrong for weeks in advance. Six to one, really.

"So, I was thinking," Brendon says, but then stops.

"It was that hard?" Ryan asks.

Brendon reaches out, finds the closest thing to him--ironically, an empty water bottle--and chucks it at Ryan. Spencer intercepts it with his--apparently--lightning quick reflexes. Who knew he had a super power that didn't involve playing the drums or being Ryan Ross's best friend? Ryan says, "Nice catch."

Jon says, "So, you were thinking." He pokes a little at Brendon's shoulder. Brendon catches his finger and bites it. Jon takes the punishment with a fair degree of acceptance. At least, he does until Brendon lets go of the finger. Spencer could have told Brendon not to bite sleeping dragons, but Brendon probably wouldn't have listened anyway. Brendon's capricious like that. Jon hoists Brendon into the air, over his shoulder. "I'm sorry, you were saying?"

"Hey!" Brendon flails a bit, although not enough, Spencer notices, that he might accidentally hurt Jon. Jon puts down the incipient rebellion with a strategic tickle-attack. It's not long before Brendon is suitably subdued. Jon asks again, "Thoughts?"

"Maybe I don't want to share them anymore," Brendon says with as much dignity as he can muster, seeing as how he is still ass-upwards, half the blood in his body residing in his face.

Jon sets him carefully on his feet, tucks some of his hair behind his ear and says, quite sincerely, "Please."

Predictably, Brendon gives. Spencer can admit he probably would too if Jon looked at him like that. Jon is a manipulative fucker, hitting you with his sweetness right when you least expect it and are ill-prepared to defend against it. It's utterly genius. Brendon says, "It's sort of our anniversary. A little bit."

And although Spencer sincerely doubts that any of them haven't been thinking about that in one way or another, Jon just nods and says, "Yeah, it kinda is."

"We should celebrate," Ryan says softly, like he might jinx something. Spencer figures he's probably still feeling a little bad about the "we made it through the first song" comment.

"That's an excellent idea, Ryan Ross," Jon says. Jon's gotten pretty good at reading Ryan.

"It was my idea," Brendon says indignantly. "Mine!"

"I didn't hear it coming from your mouth," Spencer says.

Jon says, "Hm, me neither."

"You're all assholes," Brendon informs them, "and just for that, I'm totally not going to tell you what sort of celebration plans I had in mind."

"Did they, by any chance, involve sex?" Spencer asks casually.

"Freaky, mind-reading assholes," Brendon clarifies.

"Mm," Spencer says, "that's my fourth superpower."

*


"Did you have, say, specific plans?" Spencer asks, stripping Brendon's shirt from him.

"Not, um, not specific, exactly."

"Ryan," Spencer looks up from where he's nipping at Brendon's neck.

"Spencer," Ryan says, and meets Spencer's eyes.

"Jon and I, we were talking earlier about spoiling Brendon a little. For, you know, not getting knocked out."

"This was before we played," Jon specifies. "Or I totally would have insisted on being spoiled as well."

Ryan walks over and kisses Jon hard and slow. Jon says, "Or that. That's good, too."

Ryan smiles. It's nice, thinking that his kisses are something that might spoil a person. Jon says things like that without even thinking, says them like they're the complete truth. Spencer says, "I have something in mind for you, too."

Jon laughs. "Of course you do, Spencer Smith."

"Brendon," Spencer says, and his voice isn't teasing. It's the voice he uses when he's about to ask something important. "I want to-- I want to try fucking you with Ryan."

Ryan nearly chokes on his own breath. Spencer is still talking, telling Brendon he can say no, telling him they won't be disappointed. Spencer falls quiet and Ryan asks, "Have you-- Did you ever do that?"

Brendon shakes his head. Ryan says, "Good," and doesn't bother to hide the possession in the sentiment. Brendon asks, "You?"

Ryan says, "No," softly.

Brendon says, "Good," low and solemn.

Ryan asks, "Would you let us-- Do you want--"

"Yes," Brendon says. "Yes.

"I get to watch, right?" Jon asks. "I mean, just checking."

"There's that," Spencer says, "but I'll go you one better."

Jon raises an eyebrow. "Set the bar, why don't you, Smith?"

"That's what I do, Walker."

"Brendon," Spencer says.

"Yes?"

"You're not going to come while Ryan and I are fucking you."

Brendon frowns. "I'm not?"

"No, because Jon's going to fuck you after that, and he'll tell you when you can come."

The thought of watching that makes Ryan so hard he's not sure he's going to make it to the part where he's inside Brendon. He takes a breath and counts to fifty. When he finishes, Spencer is laughing. Ryan doesn't have to look over to know it's at him. He flips Spencer the bird. Spencer says, "Maybe another time. For now, come help me get him ready."

Ryan eyes Brendon's jeans. So far as Ryan can tell, Brendon's about as ready as ready gets. Ryan goes over to the two of them anyway, gets close enough for Spencer to draw him in for a kiss, close enough for Spencer to whisper in his ear, "Aked-nay, ou-yay, im-hay."

Ryan whispers back, "Ou-yay, oo-tay."

*


They've done this hundreds of times, now, and even before they started, Spencer had seen Ryan naked, seen Brendon without clothes. It never gets old. He doesn't think it ever will. There are some things that unlike rock, unlike glass, are simply too much to wear down with time. Ryan kisses Brendon, whispers something that Spencer can't hear, but he's pretty sure it's something about the performance, about how Brendon stood tall the entire time, how he didn't let the memories--or the bottles--touch him.

Brendon kisses Ryan back, smiles against Ryan's mouth. Spencer cups his hands over Brendon's ass, lets himself take his fill. Brendon presses back into him, says, "Hi, Spencer Smith."

Spencer laughs into Brendon's neck. He asks, "You're sure?" because Spencer wants to, but he's not, not sure, and somebody needs to be.

"Please," Brendon says, and, "Yes, sure, sure."

It is Ryan who says, "Okay," and Spencer knows he wasn't so sure, either, not until then. Spencer is not surprised. It is rare that one of them knows a thing without the other knowing it, even more so now.

Jon hands Spencer the lube, leaning in for a kiss. Spencer kisses him hard and sweet and it is Jon who pulls away, who says, "Brendon."

"Yeah," Brendon says, "Brendon," but he doesn't really sound all that put upon. Spencer reaches around and grabs Ryan's hand, pours some of the lube into it. Then he takes some for himself, catching Ryan's eye. Spencer slides a finger into Brendon. Ryan's finger is there a second later, brushing along Spencer's. Brendon says, "Nice, nice, more please, yes."

Ryan laughs, but gives him what he wants, a second finger coming to hook around Spencer's one. Spencer waits a bit, enjoys the feeling of Brendon squirming between them, then gives him a fourth finger. Ryan touches his fingertips to Spencer's, pushes out with his knuckles and Brendon whimpers. Spencer looks at where Jon is pushing a condom onto Ryan and has to close his eyes, reassert control.

Jon must slip to Spencer's side while his eyes are still closed, because his lips slide along Spencer's cheekbone as he asks, "Gonna make it if I take care of you, too?"

Spencer makes a noise that might be a yes. Jon obviously takes it as one. Spencer conjures every disgusting thought he has ever had, ever in all his years of living and it just barely helps him. Jon lets go and Spencer pants, "Ryan."

Ryan says, "Yes," and pulls his fingers away, brings Spencer's with him. Holding this close to Brendon, Spencer can feel it when Ryan slides in, would know even if he couldn't from the way Brendon stops breathing for a few seconds. Ryan says, "Open your eyes."

Spencer listens to Ryan, always, he listens and fits himself in next to Ryan, just the tiniest of pushes. Brendon moans and Ryan's eyes go wide. Jon says, "Jesus fu-uck." Spencer is pretty sure this is death, this perfection, Ryan right there next to him, Brendon around him, Jon at his back. He pushes in a little further and somehow, somehow, it gets better. Spencer really couldn't explain it, is pretty sure he never will be able to. It doesn't matter. What matters is the feeling.

He slips his hands into Brendon's, kisses at his neck. Brendon says, "Spencer, please, all the way," broken and stuttered and completely certain.

Ryan says, "Spencer," soft and awed and sounding like Spencer is sure he would sound if he could make noise. Spencer can hear Jon breathing, and it's nothing like it usually is, like it has been every time before.

Spencer fits himself inside, inch by slow inch, until he is holding Brendon to his skin, until Ryan is gasping his name, clawing at Spencer's shoulders. There will be marks and Spencer will have to convince himself not to wear something ridiculous, like a tank top. Spencer leans in to kiss Ryan over Brendon's shoulder and Ryan is there, like he was waiting, like he knew. He probably did.

Brendon says, "Please, please--"

Jon says, "No."

Ryan says, "Jon," to Brendon and Brendon sobs. Ryan kisses him, takes the noise.

Spencer says, "Shh, shh," petting at Brendon's back, his hips, and moves. Ryan follows the lead.

*


When Ryan really, really can't hold out any longer, when the slide of Brendon's thighs over his, the whisper of Brendon's tongue in his mouth, the pressure and presence of Spencer right there, right against him, becomes too much Ryan says, "Spencer, come on," desperate and hopeful. Spencer says, "Fuck, yes," and bites at Brendon's ear, growls, "Not you."

There's nothing after that, a kind of nothing made up of everything and Ryan's not sure he'll survive. He's sort of okay with that, except for the part where he wants to watch Jon fuck Brendon and that thought is enough to pull him back. By that time Jon is already untangling them, working to claim his prize. Ryan tries to help, but his muscles are still convinced he's dead. He understands. Jon pulls him carefully apart from Brendon and gives him to Spencer, who's being supported by the nearest armchair. Spencer manages to wrap his arms over Ryan's chest, nibble a little at his neck. The sensation is a little too intense given the state of Ryan's nerve endings but he doesn't care, he wants Spencer to keep touching him.

In front of them, Jon is not being gentle with Brendon, despite the soothing tone of his voice, the calm tenor of his words. He has Brendon on his hands and knees, surging forward with every thrust. He has Brendon begging.

Jon says, "Fuck, you're amazing," soft and low and doesn't grant Brendon the permission he so desires. Ryan wonders if it is humanly possible for him to get hard again this quickly. He's willing to deal with the consequences later.

"Jon, please," Brendon keens. Ryan's impressed Brendon can string two words together. Ryan's impressed he can manage one. All that's happening for Ryan is Spencer stroking up and down the inside of his thigh and he's pretty sure anything more complicated than "ngh" isn't going to be happening.

"No, Brendon," Jon says patiently, the way someone else would say, "I love you."

"Meanie," Brendon sobs, but keeps moving with the rhythm, keeps listening to Jon's orders. Jon chuckles, bends down to kiss at Brendon's shoulder.

Brendon's arms are shaking with the effort of holding himself up, but Jon just says, "You can do this for me. You can do this, Brendon."

"Can," Brendon breathes, agrees.

"Perfect." Jon pours the words from his lips into Brendon's ear. Ryan's breath leaves him for a second, just goes on hiatus.

Spencer whispers, "I know, I know."

Jon drives into Brendon hard, hard like he wants to stay there forever, and comes. When he's finished, Brendon's frantic, appealing, "Jonjonjonjonjo--"

"Sh," Jon says, calm, solid even in the haze of post-pleasure. "Sh."

Brendon stops talking, but he can't make his short pants of breath any quieter. Ryan is almost about to intercede when Jon lies on his back, slipping between Brendon's legs. He says, "Spence, Ry, he can come any time you say," and grips Brendon's hips, feeding Brendon's cock into his mouth. Brendon makes a sound that is more animal than human.

Ryan says, "Spence, Spence," because he won't override Spencer's wishes, but this has gone far enough, it has.

"Brendon," Spencer says, "let go, Bren."

It's like watching him perform, only better, more, like watching him explode out of his skin and not have any need to hide once he's broken free. Ryan watches until the last of Brendon's consciousness flees, until Jon pulls off him, works to get both of them in a more comfortable position. Even when Spencer says, "Wanna go join?" even then, Ryan can't tear his eyes away.

*


Spencer wakes with Brendon still tucked neatly between Jon and him, Ryan pressed to his back tighter than any suction cup has ever managed on any surface. Despite the fact that Spencer hasn't said anything, Brendon says, "Sh, they're still asleep."

"Mm," Ryan begs to disagree, "no we're not."

"Well, Jon is."

"Was," Jon tells him.

Brendon frowns at Spencer. "I told you to be quiet."

Spencer isn't terribly repentant. Ryan says, "Yeah, Spence," against his neck. "Geez." Spencer reaches around lazily to pinch Ryan's ass. Ryan startles and then laughs. "Dickface."

"Mm," Spencer says.

"I like Spencer's face," Jon says mildly.

"You would." Brendon sighs.

"Way to stand up in the face of adversity, Jon." Spencer slides a finger over the soft ridge of Jon's hip. Jon snorts.

Ryan says, "We should probably try and make our plane."

"Way to be a buzz kill," Brendon says.

"Happy anniversary," Ryan tells him.

Brendon reaches out, drags Ryan over Spencer and kisses him hard. "Why, thank you, Ryan Ross."

"Ergh," Ryan pulls away. "Morning breath." Ryan gets out of bed and saunters to the bathroom.

Spencer watches appreciatively, all the while saying, "See, look what you've done now."

Brendon is also watching. "I am deeply ashamed and properly penitent."

"Doubtful," Jon opines. Spencer not-so-secretly agrees. He rouses himself from the bed and goes to join Ryan, who's already holding his toothbrush out when Spencer gets there. Spencer obediently takes it, extending it for Ryan to squeeze the toothpaste onto. Shortly enough, Jon and Brendon are there, and somehow they're all fitting into a bathroom that's really not meant to house more than two people at a time. It's cozy.

Brendon says, "If I do this, I'm kissing every last one of you and there's nothing you can do to stop me."

Ryan doesn't even pause in his rinsing and spitting. Jon has the decency to look horribly threatened. Jon's decent like that. Spencer rolls his eyes and keeps right on maintaining his dental hygiene.


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Skin by egelantier, photo by microbophile