The Ink

Brendon stood confidently, his eyes fixed on the standing member of the jury. The man was holding the slip of paper that sealed his client’s fate.

His client, in fact, a girl in her early twenties with pretty blue eyes who had been accused of murder, was shaking with fear. Of course, she knew she was guilty. Brendon knew she was guilty. Hell, half the city knew she was guilty.

But guilty or not, Brendon Urie was her attorney. That always puts you off in the right place from the start.

“Your honor, the jury finds the defendant, Beatrice Bailey, accused of murder in the first degree..” there was a pause in which you could hear a pin drop. “Not guilty.”

Brendon’s confident smile widened and he hear Beatrice let out a sigh of relief. They turned to the judge’s stand to hear the concluding statements.

“The defendant is acquitted of all charges and is free to go. Court is adjourned,” the gavel sounded and people shuffled out of their seats in a hurry, ready to spread the news.

“Seventeen cases in a row,” Brendon muttered to himself with a smirk and packed up a few papers into his attaché case.

Ryan was off in the back of the room, typing vigorously with a mischievously look on his face. He adjusted his glasses and let the words spill from his skinny fingers, eager to get his article done about the end of the trial before anyone else could.

Brendon kept his eyes toward the front, but happily heard Ryan typing away.

He hugged Beatrice, who was still shaking.

“Oh Mr. Urie I don’t know how you did it,” she said quietly as the judge exited.

“It was an easy case with you, kid. The boyfriend was the easy scapegoat,” Brendon ran a hand through his hair and let out a deep breath. He needed to leave the stuffy courtroom and go home, maybe take a bath and have a drink.. One could only handle so much, you know?

“That bitch is probably turning in her grave,” the girl smirked, thinking of her dead sister. She laughed bitterly and looked around again. She played with a button on Brendon’s jacket.

Brendon looked nervously out of the corner of his eye at Ryan. He wasn’t looking, he was still typing. Good.

“So.. what are you up to later?” Beatrice asked, rubbing his chest through the jacket.

Brendon laughed nervously and gently pushed her away. “Darling, my job is over now.”

She smiled in response and looked at the ground. “I tried.”

He watched as she turned to file out with a few lagging reporters and jury members. Number seventeen. She was a number to him. The climb to success.

He grabbed his briefcase and waited until he heard the door close and the chatter of nosy people diminish. The only sound left was the sound of the typewriter busy at work.

Brendon walked over to Ryan, a slight smirk on his face. It took him a minute or two to type the few remaining sentences and then he pulled the ink-stained paper out of the machine.

Ryan got up and took off his glasses. “Another victory, Mr. Urie. At a 100% acquittal rate, you’re off to being the most famous defense attorney this town of glitz and glitter has ever seen.”

“Let’s go home.”

“I couldn’t agree more.”

-

“Oohh..” Ryan gasped as Brendon threw him onto the bed.

Brendon giggled and collapsed on top of him, desperately loving Ryan’s gasps. He bit down hard on Ryan’s neck, making him purr.

“Bren..?” the smaller of the two said quietly.

“Hmm?” Brendon replied, his thumbs rubbing Ryan’s jutting hips.

“Lemme give you a massage. You’re so tense after today,” Ryan suggested, making Brendon smile like a child. Naked massages were always the best. He nodded eagerly.

Ryan’s hands were something like magic no matter where they went. Brendon’s body relaxed under Ryan’s fingers as he laid stomach-down on the mattress.

When he was done, Ryan leaned up and kissed Brendon’s shoulder and placed his body on top of his.

“Mmm...” Brendon breathed, in love with the feeling of Ryan’s naked body against his.

Ryan played with Brendon’s dark locks and whispered in a sensual tone, “let me fuck you.”

“You were reading my mind,” Brendon flipped over, his back now against the bed, straddling Ryan’s waist.

“It’s not that difficult honey. You’re hard as a rock.. and really need it this time.”

Brendon threw his head against the pillow and laughed.

“What’s so funny?!” Ryan frowned.

“Nothing,” Brendon reached up and touched his cheek. “You’re adorable.”

Ryan smiled and kissed Brendon passionately, all the while positioning himself just right in front of his partner’s entrance.

Brendon tensed as Ryan thrust into him. He was usually the one to do the fucking, not the receiver. But he wouldn’t complain. He really did need it this time.

Ryan’s hands, in a multitasking dance, also managed to pleasure Brendon’s hard member until he was left gasping for breath and screaming the boy’s name.

“Oh Ry.. you angel from Heaven,” Brendon breathed, his teeth clenched as he came in Ryan’s hand.

Ryan came after one more thrust, his hands shaking as he let out a childish wail. He collapsed on Brendon’s stomach.

“I’m not tensed anymore,” Brendon smiled fondly.

“Good,” Ryan kissed his cheek and cuddled against Brendon’s sweaty body.

-

Brendon took a drag of the cigar and then passed it to Ryan.

“Did you send in your article?” Brendon reached for the hot water faucet and let more into the scalding-hot bath.

“Yeah, I gave it to this paperboy outside of the courthouse,” Ryan half-choked on the smoke.

Brendon laughed and took the cigar back. Ryan shifted onto Brendon’s lap and let his tired eyes close as Brendon stroked his back. The musty, manly smell of the cigar was Brendon’s signature scent. It was comforting.

More hot water flooded into the bath and Brendon put his cigar down to wash his sleeping partner, dry him off, and put him to bed with an abundance of blankets and pillows.

Ryan’s eyes drifted open. “At your service, Mr. Urie.” He was delirious when he was exhausted.

“I’ll be in soon,” Brendon kissed his nose and went back into the bathroom to change into his robe and finish his cigar.

It was nearly one in the morning but Brendon wasn’t really tired. He opened the small venting window and looked out into the damp alley.

You could hear bottles filled with illegality breaking here and there, girls laughing, jazz music, speeding cars.

“Oh Chicago,” the smoke escaped Brendon’s mouth and out the window and he breathed in the night air. “It’s the place for me.”