Through the Smoke

Ryan took another pass as the pipe made its way around the circle again before he leaned back against the couch and closed his eyes, letting his head fall against Spencer's shoulder. He could vaguely hear someone saying his name--maybe Brendon--but he didn't open his eyes.

"You 'kay, Ry?" Spencer asked in an undertone.

The boy made a small noise in the back of his throat that really could have been taken either way.

"I'll take him to bed," Brendon offered.

Ryan waved his hand dismissively and scooted closer to Spencer on the couch. He was fine. He just wanted to be somewhere familiar for awhile.

Half an hour later he realized he'd fallen asleep as he woke up to Spencer gently shaking him. The other boy was saying something about how he was going to go smoke some more with Jon. Ryan opened his eyes and Brendon was standing in front of him. He didn't even protest when Brendon scooped him up to carry him to bed in the next room. The connecting door was already opened.

"You'll get used to it," Brendon said kindly after he'd laid Ryan down. He knelt at the foot of the bed to slip off the other boy's shoes.

"You're not having more?" Ryan asked tiredly.

"I'm fine," Brendon replied, biting his bottom lip as he tried to decide if he should take Ryan's jeans off. He could feel a slight blush creeping up his neck as he moved his hand toward the button. His thumb had just brushed over it when he heard the voice.

"We didn't tell you to rape him," Spencer said, overloud.

Ryan's eyes popped open and Brendon snatched his hand back, the blush spreading across his cheeks. Jon lead Spencer back into the other room by his shoulders, giving Brendon an apologetic, sloppy grin.

"I just thought you wouldn't want to sleep in your jeans," Brendon mumbled.

Ryan blinked once and then undid the button and snap, lifting his hips from the bed and pushing his jeans down his legs. Brendon tugged them the rest of the way off and tossed them on the floor.

"Are you going to kiss me now?" Ryan asked, voice so tiny it would fit inside a walnut shell.

Brendon wanted to. He could feel his stomach twist and his heart pounding in his chest like bass in a club. "You should sleep," he mumbled instead.

"Kiss me if you want to," Ryan said, voice still soft but with more conviction threaded threw it.

"You're so high," Brendon told him, half laughing and almost choking on it.

Ryan still looked tired, but his eyes were bright under his lashes. "It's not about me."

Brendon didn't protest again. He wasn't entirely sure why he pulled his shirt off, though, before he leaned down, his body hovering over Ryan's. He was still hesitating until he felt fingertips on the skin of his back, applying slight pressure. "It's okay," he heard the older boy whisper.

When their lips met, Brendon half expected to see fireworks or feel static electricity between their mouths. Instead it felt soft and warm and then probing as Ryan's fingernails began pressing into his skin.

"We shouldn't do this," Brendon mumbled, hating himself for not being the type of guy that could take advantage.

"I don't want this because I smoked." One of Ryan's hands moved up to tangle in the other boy's hair. "I just. I want to."

"You're sure?" Brendon whispered thickly.

Ryan gave the smallest nod of his head. And Brendon kissed him again, this time harder and with intention. He could feel Ryan's fingers and mouth and the synapses in his brain firing. And he wanted this.

My God, did he want this.