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Though now something of a repetitive subject to dwell on, Ryan was still circling, wondering exactly what subconscious compulsion drove him here. What did he really want from Brendon? Just a night to fulfill all the desires he'd ever secretly harbored for him? Wouldn't that just lead to more similar nights, some kind of mutually beneficial deal between them? It's not like Brendon seemed to be very against where all of this was going. But even then it didn't sound like enough, didn't sound like exactly the right answer for his problem. Ryan had never been, like. Romantically, even platonically attracted to him, just. The extent of it was catching him in the middle of telling a joke to Spencer with this excited smile on his face or laughing over some ridiculous article with Jon bent beside him and sort of wondering what it'd be like if they had the kind of dynamic where it'd be okay to do that. As a matter of fact, Ryan had never been the one to make Brendon actually smile or laugh or be at all enthused about anything related to him - that is, not unless it was in a cruel way. The closest he'd come to being faced by Brendon looking genuinely happy was if, maybe, he accidentally turned his way on stage, or if he'd caught him off-guard right after talking to someone else.

It was probably purely coincidental. After all, anything anyone ever said about Brendon could be dumbed down to something about him being the most pleasant and personable individual they'd ever met, something about his charisma or his charm or his humor, and it was all a side that Ryan had never seen. He supposed maybe he wasn't wistful about Brendon himself, didn't desire that kind of closeness with him necessarily, just was curious about this unknown part of him. Granted, it could be argued that the Brendon Ryan knew was the 'unknown part,' considering basically no one else knew of it or really got under his skin to bring out something close to it in the same way Ryan could, but still. The point was, he was missing out on something, and for whatever reason he longed to explore every facet of personality Brendon had to offer. As much as he spent his days hating him beyond belief, he knew Brendon was nuanced and full of spirit, knew he was voluntarily ignoring everything he had to show for for this long. Apparently drunkenness won out in the battle of pride and curiosity, picking the latter.

And now he was, rather comfortably, admitting to everything he'd ever managed to keep secret from Brendon, deep down under lock and key. It felt strangely like a relief - but also somewhat nerve-wracking. Brendon looked equally unnerved by his newfound sense of forwardness (under the brand name Captain Morgan, plus a few others, but same-same). Even so, Brendon had the most confidence, allowed himself a smirk. Ryan remained looking somewhat flat with a touch of smug, the best alternative to outright petrified. I like foreplay. Ryan studied him more carefully, again thinking about how funny it was that they fit so well, despite it all. Maybe funny was the wrong word to use. And I’d like to know what you did imagine. Ryan's gaze dropped after he searched his eyes a moment, once again appreciating his timing to catch Brendon shirtless (though it's not like it took any specific timing to find him that way). How could he answer that without upgrading the mortification level by 1,000 percent? "Scratches down my back, you on your knees - you know, the works," he answered vaguely, kind of amused still, figuring as little as possible was better than nothing.

It takes a whole fuckload of alcohol and me making out with you for a good while for you to admit that you’re even attracted to me. Out loud, sure, but Ryan was fairly certain he'd been caught staring stupidly in the past enough times for it to not need to be said. Nevertheless if he was on a roll now he may as well go on about every attractive thing - seemed like Brendon tended to appreciate a bit of an ego boost. But, I’m flattered, an’ you’re hot. Ryan laughed lightly, almost rejecting the compliment, but looking self-deprecating and insecure - y'know, the real stuff - was worse than anything he'd already done. He kept it to himself, but still looked doubtful. "You're stupidly gorgeous," he started, hating that he'd said it instantly because it was actually too far, but he'd already begun the thought. No going back. "It's not like I have to admit something obvious." See, it was true, but there was probably an unspoken rule to not use words like 'gorgeous' in regard to one another. It was too gentle, he'd already been too gentle for a while, this had taken too much of a turn... but that didn't matter in his head for more than a few worrying seconds.

Ryan triumphed in somehow embarrassing Brendon, the one not totally out on a limb here, the one who already had the higher win tally. He grinned when Brendon hid his face in his shoulder, catching the back of his head and drawing a few locks of hair between his fingers sportively. When he faced him again he was still smiling, probably the most lively he'd ever looked while staring directly at Brendon, but didn't care enough to notice. How’d you figure that out? "You're sort of a princess," he laughed, but not in a mean way like he should've, more lighthearted and jovial than anything else. "Why, would you have it any other way?" Then he remembered he'd been the only one to admit to thinking about them like this, and his smile faded to a degree, still there but ultimately weaker. "If you've thought about it at all, that is. Your take is probably a lot more interesting."

Brendon’s current situation, being one where he was sat on Ryan’s lap on his hotel room bed and one where he had just broken apart from kissing him, might be misleading in that it might seem Brendon didn’t still absolutely hate Ryan’s guts. He still did. He was intolerable, and arrogant, and childish, and- he was so, so, pretty, and he was a good kisser, and Brendon liked the feeling of his hands tangling in his hair and holding onto his hip. He still wasn’t fond of him, per say- but he wasn’t thinking about that right now, he was thinking about how he felt a strong desire to be close to him, closer than this, and how he wanted Ryan wearing less clothes and he wanted to kiss him until they were both breathless. In that kind of situation, there was definitely room for aggression and bad blood- they’d proven that with everything they’d done so far, ripped hard at eachother’s hair, bit down hard on eachother’s lips, both unwilling to relax because they had been so high-strung and petty and the apprehension for this had been building for years. It felt like they had one night to get all of that in the air so they could forget about it and move on, back to the familiar pattern of hating eachother’s guts in comfortable way everyone understood. That wasn’t complicated. They could handle that, they had for a long time.

The magnetic pull Brendon felt towards Ryan was familiar, but not welcome. Extremely welcome but unfamiliar was this so entire evening so far, but they’d gone too far now to ever go back, and once the outburst and surface negative emotions had been drained away, energy fuelling passion, they were left with an odd, uncomfortable feeling, like they were both more vulnerable, Ryan having just admitted everything Brendon wanted him to and yet Brendon didn’t feel fully satisfied. He doubted he ever would. That being said, he still felt some kind of triumph, like he had the upper hand by such a margin that Ryan could never hope to regain it, not tonight, not ever. Intending to keep that imbalance in the power dynamic in place, Brendon shifted in Ryan’s lap, clearly very comfortable, and asked him outright what he thought about when he said that this kind of situation between them had ‘crossed his mind a lot’. To be honest, he wasn’t expecting much- some kind of backhanded comment that swept everything he’d said before aside, a dismissal. But Ryan met his eyes and Brendon stared back, intensely curious, apprehensive. His eyes were dark and he kept his eyes trained on him as he glanced down from their eye contact to focus on his chest. Maybe that would jog his memory. Brendon didn’t even bother biting back his smirk.

Scratches down my back, you on your knees- you know, the works. The works. A rush of air left Brendon and he didn’t look away, just searched out his gaze and locked eyes with him again, only closing them briefly to allow his imagination to take the reins for a few moments. ”What a pretty picture,” Brendon teased after a moment, letting his jaw hang open slightly and his lips remain parted. All of his muscles felt taught and apprehensive, and though this was just surface level, he felt hot and bothered and though he’d been shirtless basically the entire time he’d been in this hotel room, he felt like he needed to lose some more layers. His skin, if he had to- scratches down Ryan’s back. The implications there were clear and Brendon couldn’t stop replaying his words in his head, wondering what the hell had happened between Ryan arriving and now to get them to this point. He replayed it in his head, dumbfounded, still not fully understanding. ”You know,” He said suddenly, surprised by the lowness of his own voice, ”That’s pretty vague. And that’s okay. I’m a visual learner.”

He wasn’t mad that it took Ryan being wasted and basically newly single to admit that he was even a little bit attracted to him. Always before, he’d been criticised for being too done-up with his hair, too narrow, too small, Ryan had mocked the formation of his sternum, or something, but Brendon couldn’t be mad because now Ryan’s hands had now travelled everywhere his skin was exposed and he could never go back to pretending he didn’t find him breathtakingly attractive. That was another victory. You’re stupidly gorgeous. Gorgeous? That was a strong word, perhaps too strong for them. Brendon still appreciated his ego being stroked, though, so he smiled. ”Thank you, darling.” A mockery of what they could be if the blood between them wasn’t so toxic and seemingly irreversibly fucked up, Brendon made a show of leaning in to kiss the corner of his mouth. He felt a fleeting moment of wistfulness as he pulled back, but it passed as quickly as it appeared. It’s not like I have to admit something obvious. ”You know what, you’re right. Your thirsty ass is always very happy to see me whenever I’m shirtless on the tour bus.” Ryan wasn’t subtle, but it wasn’t always his fault. Brendon held in a laugh.

He thought he was having a winning streak of holding onto the upper hand, but when Ryan decided to straight up tell him that he was the most obvious bottom ever to exist, he felt like he’d been knocked down a few rungs on the ladder, no, kicked off the ladder completely. Shoving his head to hide his embrassment in Ryan’s shoulder, he cringed at himself, how obnoxious he must be about it. He didn’t even protest Ryan’s fingers playing in his hair. You’re sort of a princess. Brendon lifted his head up, and he was pouting, giving up before he even started on being defiant about it. What was the point? Ryan had, annoyingly, hit the nail on the head. ”And I deserve to be treated like one,” He said finally, deciding to own it. Why, would you have it any other way? That wasn’t a question anyone had asked him before, now that he thought about it. Maybe it was just so unlikely that people didn’t even bother asking. Now given time to reflect on it, he moved back in to Ryan’s neck and latched his mouth onto the skin over his pulse, one hand digging into his opposite shoulder and the other resting on Ryan’s thigh. He decided that lack of an answer was equivalent to one, and decided not to elaborate on that, just shifted again, not pulling away from his neck where he was determined to leave him bruises that he couldn’t hide.

If you’ve thought about it at all, that is. Your take is probably a lot more interesting. If only Ryan knew the half of it. He delivered one last fairly forceful bite to where he’d left a bruise, merciless, and then he pulled back and moved both his arms to drape over Ryan’s shoulders, pushing them both closer to the headboard, Ryan’s back and head pressed fully against it. Brendon rested their foreheads together, strangely intimate, but it was mostly so Ryan couldn’t look away. ”I think I’ve thought about it more than you’ve actually done it with Keltie,” He grinned for a moment, giggling, but it faded fast when he remembered what Ryan had said before. Scratches down his back. He wondered what Ryan wanted to hear and decided he didn’t care. ”I want to be feeling it for days afterwards.” His voice was so low and quiet it started to break between words. ”I quite like the position we’re in right now.”

Now the string of admissions Ryan was making was less about the relief of getting it all off his chest and out in the air, more about seeing how Brendon would react, because each time was intoxicating. He couldn't quite tell whether he felt triumphant seeing him look slightly dumbfounded for a second each time, clearly not expecting the answers he was getting, or whether he was drawn to the way it clearly affected him at least a little - the more brutally honest and bold he got, the more he seemed to knock Brendon off his guard, and it felt way better than pissing him off ever did. This was nothing compared to the faint exhileration whenever he could get Brendon to snap or yell back at him or storm off angrily. This was new, different, and Ryan was pretty sure he'd found a new favorite way to talk to Brendon. Though maybe whispering whatever he was imagining at the moment to Brendon may not be ideal when they were in front of their bandmates... whatever, they'd already annoyed them to no end, may as well disgust them.

Ryan's first illustration of his imagination apparently went down well; Brendon shut his eyes for a moment, evidently trying to paint it himself. Ryan smiled at him, amused and knowing all at once, wondering at how much ammunition he had left. This could go on for a while, really. What a pretty picture. Ryan almost let go something stupid about how Brendon was kind of a pretty picture all by himself, but. Really, too much. He was already on something of a roll. His gaze dropped to his mouth for the umpteenth time, really all Brendon's fault because he let it hang just slightly like that, and he bit his own lip tentatively, mind wandering. It wasn't all just that kind of thing in his head - wasn't all just sexual and messy and completely reflective of their subtextual relationship. It was also the kind of thing he was sure they'd never be, the kind of thing that'd never be okay to say: stuff about how he wished he knew what his truest and most genuine smile looked like, how his stage presence made Ryan feel weightless even from the sidelines, how he envied his personality sometimes. Stupid things he was sure wouldn't do the same damage as admitting this stuff. He was sure it'd just send Brendon out the door (or more accurately send Ryan into getting kicked out).

You know, that’s pretty vague. And that’s okay. I’m a visual learner. Ryan arched an eyebrow, decided to characteristically be a smartass. "I prefer the kinesthetic approach. Hands-on, you know. I can be a lot less vague then." He was grinning again, probably sleepy-drunk at this point and therefore shouldn't be teasing any kind of activities he wouldn't be able to carry out, but. It was fun, and he'd already started some kind of streak. Thank you, darling. He knew what Brendon was mocking and he had a moment of weakness, his smile flickering into completely different territory before he controlled himself. It's not like he necessarily wanted that. They were screwed up beyond fixing. Anything that could be described as a romantic relationship would be far too toxic even if they worked on their issues now - nothing better than, say, the waste of his time that his current-ish relationship was. But it was nice to imagine, alongside everything else he was plucking up the courage to say aloud to Brendon. He tuned in in time to catch Brendon's matching kiss against the corner of his mouth, and it felt almost intimate - though at this point he was probably making it all up. He put on a smile, putting off emotions for the time being.

You know what, you’re right. Your thirsty ass is always very happy to see me whenever I’m shirtless on the tour bus. "True," Ryan offered, weighing his head to the side. "Now you know what I'm thinking when that's the case, I feel like I'll be seeing it a lot more. Tease." He could've guessed that before, but now it was kind of confirmed. Not just that, but also the whole bottom ordeal - it was a little sad how obvious Brendon could be. He called him on his princess behavior, met by embarrassment first, then - shockingly - a brave show of courage. And I deserve to be treated like one. Ryan laughed a little, his hand dropping from the back of Brendon's head and landing at the small of his back, coaxing. "Sure, but usually in my imagination I'm not treating you exactly like royalty." He watched again, amused, for his reaction, still testing the waters freely. It'd become sort of a game, really.

When offered an alternative his only answer was to latch back onto Ryan's neck, and Ryan let his head thump back against the wall involuntarily, shutting his eyes. In the back of his mind lived the vaguest concern about how he'd hide the inevitable harsh purple spot on his skin, especially when anyone who'd see it would know of his mysterious disappearance tonight, but. He couldn't quite bring himself to care enough to stop Brendon. Instead he kept talking, inhaling sharply when he left a punctuating bite over the already formed bruise, dragging his fingers loosely down Brendon's back while he re-settled with his arms strewn over Ryan's shoulders. He re-opened his eyes when he felt their foreheads rest together, almost startled by the closeness, blinking to focus on the darkness of Brendon's gaze, his bright honey versus Brendon's coffee-hued. His instinct was to kiss him, or something, but this felt maybe a bit more intense than that.

I think I’ve thought about it more than you’ve actually done it with Keltie. It wouldn't have been funny to the complaining Ryan from minutes ago, but now he grinned right back at Brendon, dazzled by his smile until it was gone and his own faded, too. Somehow he felt like the one under the spotlight, even when they were kind of level now. I want to be feeling it for days afterwards. Ryan's smile had completely disappeared, then, suddenly looking very serious, a little intimidated by how easily he'd become so forward when it had taken Ryan forever to get to where he was. He opened his mouth a little, trying to come up with something smart quick, but stopped before restarting. "So you will be," he said with as much nonchalance as he could muster, but still. These were kind of unrealistic promises to be making when he'd probably bust a breathalyzer. I quite like the position we’re in right now. Ryan furrowed his brow, shifted his eyes to look between them, where Brendon looked so comfortable in his lap he may as well have lived there. Ryan smirked, the pressed foreheads suddenly much less daunting a position. "A power bottom's still a bottom, princess." And he gave in to temptation, kissed him briefly with a hand wrapped around the back of his neck and the other hooked in his waistband tentatively, all careful with no real bite.