Objective Promiscuity

Pairings: Ryan/Brendon, Ryan/Gabe, Ryan/Pete, Ryan/William, Ryan/Patrick, Ryan/OMC (multiple), Pete/Patrick, William/Gabe, Jon/Brendon.

Summary: Ryan needs it. Brendon is waiting for him to settle down.

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The younger boy was kissing along his neck, nipping at the sensitive skin, smiling when he heard Pete's breath hitch. "I told you last night," the older said through gritted teeth. "I can't do this again."

"You say that every night." Ryan mused, running his hand down Pete's torso until it rested on his belt buckle.

"Patrick . . ."

"You've already cheated on him." Ryan said, as if he were explaining a vocabulary word. "Might as well get your money's worth." The heel of his hand ground down against the crotch of Pete's jeans. He knew he had won.

"Just make it fast."

"I'm always fast." Ryan said, bottom lip barely jutting out, looking slightly offended.

"Just hurry." Pete said desperately, pushing on the top of Ryan's head.

The younger boy grumbled. He didn't exactly like being pushed down toward someone's cock, even if that was his only goal for the evening. It made him feel like he was being taken for granted, and Ryan Ross was not to be taken for granted. Maybe what happened that night was karma.

Ryan slid down the length of Pete's body, quickly undoing the belt buckle with agile fingers. He looked up to see the elder's breath hitch in his throat before he pulled the jeans and boxers to Pete's ankles. Ryan settled himself in between his legs before opening his mouth and hollowing his cheeks.

It never took long with Pete. Seven to eight minutes normally. He'd be moaning in his throat, head rolled back, hands in Ryan's hair, tendons in his neck taut and at attention. "Fuck, Ry. Fuck."

Ryan swallowed, bring an arm up to wipe his lips on the back of his hand. "Good?"

Pete's body felt so heavy that he could barely move, let alone answer. He managed to nod his head and let out a string of garbled nonsense. That was when the door opened.

Ryan and Pete both turned their heads concurrently.

Patrick. Jaw set, eyes dark, face paled. He stood there breathing heavily for a moment before he spoke. "Ryan, you should go."

The younger boy stood up, brushing the hair out of his eyes. He let his hip touch Patrick's on the way out for a second longer than was probably appropriate for the situation. He heard the door click behind him before making his way to the elevator. Gabe was two floors down. He knocked once.

"Finally." the man said, opening the door immediately. Ryan fought a smile as he was pressed against the wall, lips against his neck, hands slipping under his tee shirt before moving down to undo his button and zipper. "You need lube?" Gabe asked desperately.

"No." The word was clipped and short. Gabe pushed Ryan's jeans down and the younger boy stepped out of them unperturbedly before slowly pulling off his shirt. The other man was naked except for his socks when Ryan finally dropped the fabric to the floor.

He felt himself being lifted, wrapped his legs around Gabe's waist on pure instinct before he felt the push, hot burn. He could take Gabe's cock without sound or surprise now. The first time he had actually moaned at the absolute stretch of it. Brendon still hadn't stopped teasing him about it.

Ryan watched Gabe's face intently, feeling the occasional pull of skin against the wall, staring at the sweat running down the other man's face and neck. He bit his tongue hard when he felt the hand wrap around him. It was perhaps the most predominant reason he preferred blowjobs to sex. He came just a beat after Gabe did. He fought every moan, but Gabe made up for it, swearing and groaning, panting Ryan's name against the boy's neck.

Gabe pulled out and Ryan untangled his legs, immediately putting his jeans on and tugging his shirt over his head. "See you." he said, walking out the door, leaving Gabe leaning against the wall, breathless.

Ryan checked the time on his cell phone as he walked to the elevator. Late enough to go back to the hotel room (and Brendon), but early enough to go to the bar and convince a straight guy to get blown by a boy. The former was nice but the latter was better.

If only there had been someone not forty at the bar. He pushed open his hotel room door, clearly unhappy. Brendon was watching TV. "So who'd you do tonight?"

"Your mom."

Brendon smiled. "And?"

"Pete and Gabe. Patrick caught me with Pete." Ryan sat down on the bed beside Brendon and unlaced his shoes.

The younger boy let out a low whistle. "Daaamn. What'd he do?"

"Said I should leave." Ryan kicked his shoes off. "I should blow Patrick."

Brendon laughed. "Even you can't get Patrick."

Ryan turned his head and cocked an eyebrow. "Oh really? Do I sense a bet?"

"Patrick only likes Pete." Brendon replied, leaning back and staring at the ceiling. "One-man guy. Not that you'd understand that." he teased.

"Oh, shut it." Ryan said, turning and pushing at the other boy.

Brendon grabbed at him, pulling him down and tickling his side before kissing him on the mouth. Ryan responded in full, lips parting, body tightening. He moaned, relishing in the prospect of finally being able to make noise. Brendon, only Brendon.

In moments, he was naked, legs around Brendon's waist, arms around his neck, moaning, panting, swearing. A single bead of sweat running down his neck, pooling at his collarbone. "Harder, Bren." he begged.

Increased tempo, sharper thrusts, longer strokes. Brendon's sweat was dripping from his hair onto Ryan's chest. "You close?"

Ryan nodded, threading his fingers through Brendon's hair as he felt the hand stroking him. "Ohgod, ohgod, oh fuck! Brendon, Brendon . . ." He collapsed, exhausted, breathing labored, whimpering slightly as he felt Brendon push hard inside of him, filling the condom and moaning his name.

Afterward, when Ryan was lying in Brendon's arms, the nightly question was asked. "Are you ready to settle down?" the younger boy whispered in Ryan's ear, stroking his hair.

"Not yet." Ryan yawned, burying his face in Brendon's neck.

"Okay."

The next morning, there was a knock on the door. Brendon answered and was immediately pulled into the hallway by a very angry William Beckett. "Is Ryan in there?" he hissed.

"That depends." Brendon said. "Is he going to be alive when you get done with him?"

William pushed open the hotel room door and slammed it shut, double-locking it before walking over to the bed. Ryan stirred slightly, but didn't wake. William yanked his hair, pulling back on his head as the brown eyes popped open.

"—the fuck?"

"So you think you can just fuck my boyfriend?" William snapped.

"Actually," Ryan replied, trying to keep his voice even, "he fucked me."

"You slut." William muttered, letting go of the younger boy's hair.

Ryan sat up, looking blasé. "That's what they say. And why the fuck do you care anyway? Gabe fucks everyone. What makes me so god damn special?"

William didn't say anything for a moment. "Well, if he gets to, then I get to." he said finally.

Ryan smiled. "Be my guest." He pulled the sheet from his naked body and lay back, bending his legs at the knee, spreading them wide. So obscene, so pornstar. He was nearly making himself hard. And judging from William's expression, he wasn't the only one.

Two minutes later he was being torn into with desperately and ferocity, dark eyes staring down at him, one hand for balance, the other tugging at his hair. Shallow strokes, but hard as hell. Breaths that left moisture on his forehead, sounds that echoed off the hotel room walls.

Ryan bit the inside of his cheek when he climaxed, toes curling, resisting the urge to clench his hands into fists. It wouldn't have mattered. William squeezed his eyes shut as he came with a shudder, burying his face in Ryan's neck and choking out profanities.

When Brendon came back in, Ryan was lying in bed, gasping. "So, Will was good?"

"No more than usual." He tried to say it calmly, but he still hadn't caught his breath.

"Mhm." Brendon smirked. "Sure. I'm showering."

"Have fun." Ryan replied dully.

"We have three interviews and two photo shoots. You need to shower, too." the younger pointed out.

"Are you implying I join you?" he asked, sitting up.

"Duh."

The sounds echoed off the shower even more than the hotel room walls. And this time, of course, there were two voices as opposed to one.

Interviews were typical, boring. The photo shoots were more fruitful—at least for Ryan. He ducked into the bathroom after the second to blow the photographer.

Fingernails scraping the back of his neck, a husky accent whispering his name while cigarette smoke filled the tiny room. "I'll remember you." the man promised after. Ryan didn't doubt. They always did.

"So I guess he'll be shooting us again." Brendon said when he came out of the bathroom. Ryan stuck his tongue out, smacking the other boy's ass as he walked by.

When they got back to the hotel, Brendon fucked him into the mattress. Ryan's fingernails scraped down Brendon's back, teeth bit at his shoulder. They were both covered in sweat, dripping it onto the sheets. Ryan could feel his heart beating in his neck as he stared straight into the other boy's unyielding eyes, all but screaming when his orgasm shattered through his body.

"It's eight." Brendon said after, glancing at the clock. "Don't you have places to go, people to do?"

"Do me a favor?" Ryan asked, running his fingers across Brendon's abdomen.

"Depends on what I get."

"What do you want?"

"To blow you." Brendon answered immediately. He wasn't surprised when Ryan's eyes narrowed. Brendon had never blown him; no one had. Ryan made noises with him during sex, but he wouldn't have if Brendon didn't as well. He couldn't stand the thought of being the only one in the room to lose control.

"Fuck you. I'll get someone else to do it." Brendon tried to reach for Ryan as he pulled away and stood up, but the older boy shrugged him off. He had his clothes on in minutes (years of practice paid off) and was at the door when he spoke again. "Don't wait up for me."

He was angry. Anger implies passion. Passion implies out of control emotions. Out of control emotions are out of control. Being on your knees in a hotel room surrounded by five men with their jeans off is out of control.

Ryan couldn't remember the last time he had been out of control with someone who wasn't Brendon. He hated it.

After he got back to their hotel room, he took a shower, scrubbing at his hair and skin. Not until he felt clean; it wasn't about feeling dirty. He wasn't entirely sure what he was washing down the drain. Failure, maybe, at his lack of restraint.

Brendon wasn't there when Ryan came in. He wasn't there when Ryan came out. He turned up about an hour later. Ryan was angry. "Where the fuck were you?"

Brendon kicked his shoes off and tossed his jacket on the ground. "You told me not to wait up." There was a hickey on his neck.

Ryan's eyes narrowed. "Where were you?"

"With Jon."

Ryan sat up, leaning forward, eyes flashing. "Jon? The Academy's Jon?"

Brendon nodded, sitting at the edge of the bed, staring intently at the television set.

"You fucking prick. You know I haven't done him yet. You tell him not to do it with me?" It was almost a scream. A loud, broken noise. Ryan's hands came up, grabbing Brendon's shoulders, squeezing as hard as he could.

The younger boy blinked. "We didn't even talk about you. Not everything is about you, Ryan Ross."

"This is!" The voice was nearly hysterical, Ryan's brown eyes were wide. "You know this is, Brendon."

"How?"

"You can't fuck other people when you're in love with me!" Ryan screamed.

"You do." Brendon said quietly.

"I never said I loved you." A low voice, but not calm. Ryan couldn't talk about his emotions and stay composed.

"You told me when you were ready to settle down that it would be with me." Brendon's voice was louder, but calmer. He'd been Ryan's only consistent fuck since his senior year of high school. He'd been waiting that long for the bed-hopping to stop. It didn't upset him the way it used to.

"I don't find the word 'love' in that." Ryan said, voice flat.

Brendon shrugged, turning and pushing Ryan backward on the bed. Wrists pinned about his head, lips against his collarbone, hips grinding down against hips. "You do." he whispered against Ryan's skin. If the older boy heard, he made no sign to show it.

The next day, they had four interviews. Ryan was desperate by the time they got back. Brendon grabbed him once they were inside the hotel room. "I'll do that favor."

Ryan didn't even pretend. His voice was desperate. "Get Pete out of their room."

"How long?"

"Hour."

Patrick didn't really want to let Ryan in, but he did anyway. "Are you and Pete okay?" the younger asked.

Like you care. "We're fine." Patrick crossed his arms. "It's not the first time. I doubt it's going to be the last."

Ryan took a step closer. "What about you?"

Narrowed eyes, set jaw. "I don't cheat."

Another step. "You ever tried it?" Ryan took one more step, smirking when Patrick backed up, falling on the bed. "Because if you haven't—" his legs were on either side of Patrick's waist now "—then you should."

"No."

Ryan smiled, lowering his head to start planting kisses along Patrick's neck. "I know he doesn't blow you. The sex is always about him. Same positions, same boring routine."

"W-We do different positions." Patrick choked out. He moved his hands to Ryan's shoulders, lightly pushing at him, but rolling his head back to expose more of his neck.

"Never when you want to." Ryan started sucking a bruise onto his pulse. "You ever fucked a guy, Patrick?"

"No." The voice was barely a whisper, not quite a whine. His hips were moving. Ryan didn't know if he was trying to resist or trying to get him to move his own.

"You should." His tongue slipped out from between his lips, tracing the shell of Patrick's ear.

"Can't." His voice broke and, with it, his control. One hand coming up to Ryan's hair, the other slipping down his back to scrape across the curve of his ass.

"You are." Ryan pressed his lips to Patrick's fight his smile when he felt the hum of Patrick's moan against his mouth.

"Just once." he whispered.

"Once is good." Ryan murmured in response.

Sex had never been like that. He'd never been fucked by someone who knew exactly what they wanted and had no idea what they were doing. The strokes started out slow, the way Brendon fucked when he was upset and wanted to be comforted in the warm of the human body. "Faster okay?" Patrick managed to get out.

"Whatever you want." Ryan said. He bit his lip to keep the scream inside when the next thrust came—hard, violent, borderline painful, and ten times better than what he knew Pete would fuck like.

Afterward, after Patrick's strangled half-sobbing climax and Ryan's toes curling during his silent release, while he was pulling on his clothes, Patrick spoke. "You won't tell him, right?"

It was the first time in a long time that Ryan's parting words hadn't been 'see you'. "Don't worry." He zipped his jacket, gave a small smile, and left the room.

After he got back to the hotel room, he snuggled into the sheets, the TV on for noise. He had every intention of wait for Brendon, but by the time the door opened he was sleeping.

Brendon smiled when he came in, tucking Ryan in more securely and lying beside him, lightly stroking his hair. "Are you ready to settle down yet, baby?" he murmured. He knew Ryan was close to the breaking point. He didn't know if that point would signify him losing control completely or if he would finally tell Brendon 'yes'.

Ryan was sleeping over at Brendon's again. Both of them were on the pull-out couch, staring at the ceiling and talking about whatever popped into their heads. Ryan brought it up.

"You love me, right?" Ryan asked. "I mean, I'm your best friend."

Brendon gave an unsure nod. "Yeah."

"So, if I needed a favor . . ." Ryan let his voice trail off, unsure of exactly how he would finish that sentence.

"Just as long as it's not money." Brendon laughed lightly.

Ryan rolled over on his side, propping his chin up on his arm, which was bent at the elbow. "Can I blow you?"

"What?" He corrected himself immediately. Maybe this was a big gay crisis. He couldn't act like Ryan was the last person on earth he wanted sucking his dick. Especially when Ryan was probably the first person he'd want to. "Why do you . . . want to?"

"Well, uh . . ." His typical Ryan confidence was gone. "I-I want to start doing it, you know, but I want to make sure I'm doing it right."

"Who do you want to start doing it to?" Brendon asked, slightly put off. "I didn't know you were into anyone."

"I'm not." Ryan said. He brushed an invisible fly off his shoulder. "So can I?"

There was a brief pause before Brendon nodded. "Okay."

A month later, Ryan asked for sex. "I don't want it to hurt when they fuck me." He whispered it, knowing that the louder you speak, the more your voice shakes.

By then Brendon already knew what Ryan was doing. He couldn't say who, but Ryan barely knew who. Brendon knew that, knew they were strangers.

"Is it going to be forever?" Brendon asked after. He was rubbing his hand across the older boy's stomach, trying to make some of the pain go away. "Or is it going to be us?"

Ryan sighed, turning to brush his lips against Brendon's cheek. "I'm not ready yet. I will be someday. And it'll be you."

Ryan woke up when it was early, but still dark. Brendon was sleeping, his fingers curled around Ryan's hair. He smiled. Ryan knew the breaking point was imminent, too. He'd never done five guys before. In one night, yes, but not in one room.

He wanted it, the breaking. He knew it was too much. He wanted what Brendon wanted. He just wasn't ready. He wanted to be. The way they waited for the same thing was so different.

He crawled out of bed, slipping the key card into his pocket and quietly opening the door. He walked barefoot down the hallway. No one was there. He let his hands trace the walls, feet scratching on the carpet.

A door opened and someone Ryan didn't recognize stepped into the hallway. Suitcase, jacket. Early flight. Ryan smiled. The man didn't notice. He turned, disappearing.

"Hello?" Ryan whispered to the empty corridor. No one answered. So he went back to the hotel room and ran a bath. He listened for the sound of Brendon's feet and smiled when he felt the arms wrap around his waist.

"You're up too early." Brendon whispered. He kissed Ryan's hair. "Did you get what you wanted from Patrick?"

Ryan shrugged, pulling away to take off his clothes. "I thought I did." he said softly. "He fucked me."

"It's not enough anymore, is it?" Brendon asked once they were in the water. His hands were on Ryan's thighs. The older boy was leaning back against him, eyes closed, breathing deeply. "Ry?"

"I'm scared."

"Of?"

"Everything."

They stayed in the bath until the water was cold. They crawled under the sheets nude, wrapping their arms around each other, Ryan's head on Brendon's chest. "Are you ready to settle down?"

"Not yet."

The next day was finally their time to practice for the show. Awards shows were bastards about practicing. Two hours tops. Brendon was worried about whether or not Ryan could manage two hours. Normally he could handle work, but with the way he'd been lately he might freak out and start begging to suck Brendon's cock onstage.

He fucked Ryan as hard as he could manage without tearing him before they showered and got in the car with Brent and Spencer to leave. Ryan was tired. He leaned against Brendon on the drive, eyes closed, nuzzling against his neck. The other three boys chatted, wondering out loud where they should go to eat after their two hours were up. Everyone was sick of Ramen noodles and cereal.