Chapter Ten

Ryan breathed in sharply. It felt like he was breaking the surface of the sea after spending an eternity holding his breath. Bubbles popped in his ears, his limbs felt like dead weights and his head was pounding. He wrenched his eyes open, images swam into focus around him; a bed, a lamp, dark walls. Somewhere in the back of Ryan's mind recognised the setting as the dorm he shared with Brendon, with this realisation came a wave of horror. How had he ended up in his dorm? What had happened, why, when- how-

Ryan attempted to sit up, his head thumping madly. He wobbled- and fell out of his bed, the loud thud brought footsteps into the room. As Ryan slipped under the mind bubble he felt two strong arms drag him upright and place him back on the bed, a splash of water hit him in the face and his head jerked upright. The room slid abruptly into focus along with the silhouette of Brendon Urie, who was standing with one hand on his hip and a water bottle in the other.

"Nice of you to join me." Commented Brendon dryly, with one eyebrow raised. Ryan attempted to stand up again but he pitched forwards, falling down into the stronger boy's arms. Brendon sighed and pulled him up.

"Alright, come on. There's no use me explaining with you like this." Brendon hitched one of Ryan's arms around his shoulders and started to drag him towards the door, throwing the water bottle to the floor. Ryan started to protest but his words were lost in the pounding bass that could still be heard when Brendon dragged him into the corridor. Had he been more alert Ryan would have made the connection instantly, that the Party was still going on, instead he just slumped further into Brendon's chest. Brendon hauled Ryan down towards the end of the long passageway. When they were approximately three quarters of the way down Brendon kicked open a door into a different dorm. The smell of Abercrombie and Fitch cologne assaulted Ryan's' nostrils and it became instantly apparent that this was the room where Alex slept. The dorm was undeniably bigger than any other (Ryan had presumed Alex would get some perks) and there was an extra door in a corner that usually held a desk in the other rooms. When Brendon kicked the door open to reveal an ensuite wet room this confirmed his suspicions. Nepotism was alive and well at St Michaels.

Brendon shoved Ryan roughly into the room and turned on the light with a pull cord. He muttered to himself at the same time before pulling Ryan's body underneath the shower head and turning it on. Freezing spray covered the two of them, Brendon's replaced shirt getting soaked as he tipped Ryan's head into the water. Ryan coughed and spluttered but snapped upright. The shapes became more focussed and the lines of Brendon's face less fuzzy, he reached out, grasped at Brendon's sodden shirt and pulled him under the water. The other boy smirked and drew back his hand. Ryan didn't see the hit coming and when it connected with his face the force of the blow sent him sprawling across the tiles.

"God knows I've been itching to do that for a while," Brendon cracked his knuckles and easily dodged Ryan's pitiful attempt at a counter attack. "No you don't Ryan. Bad boy. You've just drunk a potentially lethal cocktail of Date rape drug and alcohol, so calm down before you go into cardiac arrest."

Ryan dragged a hand across his mouth and stared up at Brendon, the bastard had drugged him. This was totally not all part of his cunning 'Get Brendon to talk' plan. He pushed himself up on his arms, then onto his knees. Brendon smirked at the weaker boy.

"Any other night I'd relish the thought of you on your knees, but now," He grabbed Ryan and shoved him back under the water, his body pinning Ryan to the creamy tiles. "I'd rather you were in your right mind." He placed his hands around Ryan's face and pulled him up to meet his eyes.

"I just saved your ass, and you don't even know why." His eyes searched Ryan's face for any hint of coherence.

Ryan's brain was racing a mile a minute, or what felt like it to his still woozy brain. This boy could have killed him, with just a different dose or one more shot. There seemed to only be one action left. He took it. Extracting his arms, he layered his hands on top of Brendon's and leaned in to brush his lips against the corner of Brendon's mouth.

Brendon protested in the form of a grunt but soon redoubled his effort to subdue Ryan, pressing his lips squarely against the slimmer boy's weaker mouth. He pushed in closer, squeezing out all of the air between their two bodies. Ryan couldn't focus on anything other than the breath being crushed from him, it wasn't long before Ryan was gasping. He worked his hands to Brendon's chest and pushed hard.

At his full strength he might have been able to push Brendon backwards maybe a foot or so, but in his current state Brendon barley shifted under his hands. To Ryan's surprise, and relief, Brendon moved backwards of his own accord. The kiss had been nothing more than skin on skin. Brendon wiped the water from his face absentmindedly.

"I drugged you because I didn't think it was fair. Getting you incredibly drunk just so they could force you to do something you didn't want to do?" He shook his head, "That wasn't fair. If you had put up resistance to the game I might have pulled you out of it earlier, but you seemed to be fine so I didn't, then I realised you were just being stupid."

Ryan frowned. What was this?

Brendon laughed hollowly "You didn't even mind that we were forcing alcohol down your throat? God Ryan, by the time I slipped you that drug you only had two options left; Alcohol poisoning or stripping in front of the whole year and then some. So I created a third option."

"Which was?" Ryan asked, slumping against the tiled wall.

"Slipping the tablet into the shot, and then using very elementary reverse psychology to convince you to drink it- meaning you'd pass out on the table. Which you did. That signalled an end to the game, everyone else thought you'd passed out from the alcohol." Brendon raised an eyebrow, "I hauled you upstairs under false pretences and dumped you on your bed."

Ryan scrunched up his face, he couldn't tell if it was the drugs- but Brendon still wasn't making complete sense. He raised a hand to his face and wiped his wet hair backwards.

"I still don't see why?" He trailed off expectantly.

Brendon sighed and moved back in; he placed his hands on the wall around Ryan's head, trapping him.

"No, you don't see," He cocked his head to the side, "I suppose telling you wouldn't be too much of an issue- considering one of the benefits of the fabulous drug I slipped you is that it's an amnesiac."

Ryan's stomach dropped, he was about as strong as newborn kitten, Brendon could take him anywhere, have him do anything and he wouldn't remember. He suppressed a panicked whine; after all, he couldn't afford to show any weakness now. He attempted to straighten his back against the wall.

Brendon chuckled at the visible change in Ryan and shook his head, "I'd still beat you in a fight Ryan, but never mind." He leant right into Ryan's face and whispered, "I saved you because my father doesn't need to have any more people than necessary asking questions- and what he absolutely doesn't need is some kid's parents turning up to find their son dying of alcohol poisoning. There is far too much at stake."

Ryan realised this was fairly key information. What Brendon had just revealed confirmed his suspicions that it was Mr Urie, father of this giant dickhead, who had something to hide. What Brendon had also revealed was that he knew what it was that was being hidden. He tried to lock this information away in his head, if what Brendon was saying was true and that he would remember none of this the next day, he wanted to remember that one fact. He thought back to his dorm, and the makeup that was still spread out all over the small corner desk. In his mind he assigned the fact to the eyeliner pencil propped up against the mirror. Hopefully the memory would be triggered every time he was stabbed in the eye with the thing.

There was a small silence between the two boys. The bright, calm, white bathroom was a contrast to the heaving chest of Ryan Ross. He was still propped against the wall, water cascading over his chest. He briefly wondered what had happened to the rest of his clothes, considering all he was wearing were his now soaked through jeans. His head felt as though the rest of the St Michaels boys had moved the party to the inside of his cranium. Brendon loomed over him, still trapping him most effectively. His strong muscled arms were clearly defined by the clinging white shirt that was rapidly turning transparent. His jeans were equally soaked and clung to his legs as he moved them in to press against Ryan's. He moved his face closer to the weaker boys and Ryan watched as individual water droplets fell from the mess of brown hair that now plastered Brendon's face.

"Well, well Ryan. What on earth are we going to do now?" Brendon moved one hand down from the place it had been occupying beside Ryan's ear. It trailed its way down the wall before coming to rest on Ryan's hip, "I've probably saved your life tonight and all you've done to me is try to hurt me." He cocked an eyebrow, "That's not very fair is it?" He moved the opposite arm down to rest on the other side of Ryan's body. His large brown eyes didn't leave Ryan's as he moved one of his broad hands to Ryan's chest. Ryan stayed completely still, whilst the touch wasn't harsh it was unsettling. When Brendon's hand started to travel south he frowned and tried to wriggle away. The hand that wasn't toying with the waistband of Ryan's jeans kept him pinned to the wall. Brendon leant his head in close to Ryan's neck and whispered his voice just audible over the still rushing water.

"It could technically be an assault, but you would just enjoy it wouldn't you?" When Ryan grunted in protest Brendon chuckled, the noise sent vibrations through Ryan's neck.

"Oh come on Ryan, you're not thatgood an actor. You can pretend to be straight all you want. Doesn't make it true" Ryan actually laughed at that. Of course he was straight, he liked tits. He dragged his head up higher, and spoke quite clearly.

"Whatever asshole, never in my 20 and a bit years have I decided I want to fuck another guy." He allowed himself another weak chuckle.

Brendon had the good grace to step backwards. He frowned.

"You actually think you-" He laughed loudly and stepped back another couple of feet, "Oh my God!" He shook his head, spraying water droplets everywhere, "You really haven't noticed your own suppressed homosexuality have you?" In seconds he had Ryan re-pinned against the tiled wall of the bath room. Ryan was about to protest again when Brendon covered his mouth with his own for the second time. This kiss was nothing like the first, it was animalistic. There was no trace of compassion in the way Brendon licked into Ryan's mouth and raked his hands down the older boy's chest. There was no give and take in this, it was simply Brendon. Brendon is everywhere. Taking up every one of Ryan's senses. He'd got his hands so far wrapped around Ryan's chest that Ryan thought he could feel his fingertips on his heart, the taste of Brendon was hot in his mouth and the noises leaving his mouth ought to be illegal. When Brendon stopped and stepped away Ryan let out a high keening noise before he could stop himself. Brendon smirked at him from under dark, rapidly curling hair. He reached up and moved the dial on the shower. The tepid spray started to warm up, the room started to steam.

Brendon moved slowly towards Ryan, whose eyes were losing focus once more. His eyes shot up when Brendon tugged his jeans down to his knees. The wrench of wet denim against skin burned, but nothing like the heat on his face. He was fully exposed to Brendon and the part that shocked him was that he didn't want to be anywhere else.

"Going commando Farro?" muttered Brendon, "Classy." He placed his hands lightly around Ryan's shoulders before trailing them down his body parallel to each other. They glossed over the creamy white chest of a man who spent too much time indoors; they skimmed over ribs and jumped over hip bones. Brendon hunched his back and his fingers flew over the skin of Ryan's upper thigh and then stopped to caress the knee joint. He lifted his chin slightly to catch Ryan's eyes, Ryan hadn't been able to drag his gaze away. Brendon licked his lips and Ryan decided instantly that lips like that ought to be outlawed immediately. Brendon dropped to his knees and Ryan watched as the hot water pounded against his back. Brendon kept eye contact as he loosely fisted Ryan's cock. Ryan threw his head backwards and let out a low moan. This could not be happening.

Brendon tightened his grip on Ryan's cock and used his other hand to pin Ryan's hips firmly to the tiled wall. Then parting his hence forth outlawed lips, he took the head of Ryan's cock into his mouth, and started to work his way down, painfully slowly, inch by inch.

Ryan stared as Brendon slid his mouth about half-way down and started working his mouth and hand together. Ryan's hips started to buck off the wall but Brendon's grip didn't let them, and a sense of frustration started to course through Ryan. He was painfully close, yet aware of Brendon judging his every move. Brendon lifted off with a soft, wet, popping sound; his lips red. He alternated the strokes of his hand; soft, hard, light, strong. Ryan bit back a 'fuck' as Brendon increased his pace. Brendon straightened his legs, bringing him back to full height. Ryan could tell he was revelling in the look of agonised suspense gracing his normally impassive face.

"How straight are we now Ryan?" Brendon asked over the choked off moans from the man beneath him. He crushed his body even closer to Ryan's, never losing his rhythm. He moved his mouth to Ryan's neck, sucking at the soft skin over his collar bones. Ryan's moans trebled in volume and his head tipped backwards onto the white tiles. Brendon moved back to the side of Ryan's head and whispered,

"You said you'd never thought about fucking another guy but did you ever stop to think that you might be the one getting fucked?"

He bit down on Ryan's collar bone and watched as the newest addition to the centre of prestigious education they both resided in, came apart in his hands with a guttural moan that was almost a scream. Ryan shuddered violently as Brendon's fingers danced lightly over his body. There had been nothing delicate about this. Nothing, yet Ryan felt as though he was floating above everything. Brendon hummed against his neck.

"We'll save that for next time though," He smirked, "The sad part is you won't even remember this. It is an unfortunate side effect, memory loss, but never mind. I'll go back to hating you and you can continue to try and fit in and pretend you don't want to fuck me in every classroom twice." He turned off the shower with a flick of his wrist above Ryan's head and stepped lightly backwards. Brendon took a towel from a nearby rail and wrapped it around a still panting Ryan.

"Of course, you're straight anyway, so the thought would never even cross your mind." There was a hint of bitterness that Ryan couldn't quite pin down, which wasn't surprising in his drugged, inebriated and pleasure sparked state.

The spy slumped into his arms, the effort of moving becoming all too much for his overwhelmed senses. As the world swirled around Ryan like the acrylic paint of one of his Rose canvas' he repeated the words "Brendon knows about the money" over and over in his mind like some form of Mantra. The last thing he saw before the world went black for the second time that night was the door of Alex' dorm

He dreamt of the party, He ran around the common room opening doors, a sense of panic flooding through his mind although he knew not why. He wrenched open a heavy door that opened into a white room, a wave of water rushed out of the room and over his head. Somewhere a bell started to chime.

Ryan opened his eyes slowly to the sound of his mobile going off, the shrill ring tone causing his head to pound. He brushed his hands over his face and swung his legs out of bed. A mounting panic gripped his slight frame as he realised he wasn't in his pyjamas. As he stood up a fluffy, white, monogrammed towel slipped of his body and onto the ground. Ryan reached for it and squeaked as he read the initials 'AG'. Why had he woken up in his dorm wearing nothing but one of Alex Gaskarth's towels? Ryan reached blindly for his phone in the half light whilst he rummaged through his mind trying to work out what the hell had happened to him.

The display on the phone read:

'Incoming call from 'Dad'!'

Fuck. Ryan raked a hand through still damp hair and breathed slowly. Why did he feel so filthy when he had clearly been submersed in water some hours previously? What the hell was he supposed to tell Farro? He unlocked the phone and held it to his ear.

"Hello?" He said stiffly, as Brendon Urie rolled over in the bed opposite his.

Love as always, thank you for reading this piece of crap. x

(Hi Rosy, welcome to the fandom)