Commentficcing some more of this out 'cause it's been spinning round my head all week :D All just commentfic, all rough as it gets, forgive crappiness, lol :S
The touch doesn't come. Or rather...it doesn't come when it should, then it does, a moment later, but it's wrong, all wrong, too gentle, too kind, fingertips tentative on his knee when Ryan would give almost anything for this to be rough and purposeful and unmistakable, and it takes all his control to stop his limbs shaking. And that voice again, quiet, barely a breath. "Ryan..."
Ryan has lines for this. There are lists of people who want this to be sweet, the occasional women particularly but a fair share of men as well, clients who would prefer not to remember that they're clients, and Ryan has lines, but... Soft, deeper--older--than in Ryan's memory; "Ry, talk to me..." Lines and everything he's built here are rapidly falling apart, and it's all he can do to obey, to speak, to cling back into the standards that he probably murmurs in his sleep now. "What would you like tonight?" It's all wrong, and he flinches away almost before the line's out, and the half of Ryan that's far, far too glad of that to be safe, and the part of him that's furious because he's good, and no one's drawn back from him in years are both drowned out by the part that is just fucked, completely lost, and doing more drowning than searching in the frantic effort to stay above water. "No," the voice that isn't anyone, barely even sounds the same murmurs, standing again, "No Ryan, no, I...I've got to get you out of here." Louder, more firm. "I'm going to get you out of here."
Ryan sits, and breathes. Breathe. It's just a line. It's not the first time he's heard it by any means, and if he hasn't wanted to believe it like this since the early days, since the first few times when he did believe it, that means nothing. It's an easy lie, such an easy lie, sweet, meaningless promises made by sick, heartless men who like control, and Ryan doesn't fall for easy lies. Ryan has two very simple, well-acted alternative responses to that particular promise, in fact; pathetically fawning, credulous expressions of gratitude where appropriate, the equally easy lie that he doesn't want out, that he wants 'only to serve' for others, and Ryan's good at judging what they want to hear. Right now, he wouldn't have a clue, and that's terrifying. The former takes more acting, though, and Ryan's having enough trouble staying sitting on the bed right now, so he falls back on something like the latter, tailored as best he can, and begs himself to sound believable. "You don't have to," he murmurs, and his voice is steady, at least, "I want only--" "No. No." It's loud enough, firm enough to cut Ryan off mid-sentence, and Ryan's pretty sure that's the intention. "No, look, Ryan, please--I...wait. Wait." He comes close again, drops back down to Ryan's level, and leans in, and Ryan can't help the way he tenses...but that's as close as he comes. "Is someone watching the room?" A whisper in Ryan's ear. It takes Ryan a moment to process, but at least it's an easy answer. "You pay for privacy here, sir. This is a high class establishment. There is no one closer than the men you would have seen in the hall for security, unless you'd prefer--" But--the name--the name he can't keep out, an ache in his head--Brendon Urie--draws back, just far enough to catch Ryan's eyes, just far enough that Ryan can't look away. "Really?" His eyes are huge, and just exactly the same as they were a world away and eight years in the past when someone who wasn't Ryan, wasn't, really, saw them differently, and never forgot. His voice is still a whisper. "Then...why? Ryan...I...please..." Ryan doesn't know what he's asking for. Ryan doesn't know anything, because nothing makes sense, because none of this makes sense, but he's inches away, eyes wide and inescapable, and Ryan doesn't get it, doesn't understand at all, but he knows what he's meant to do, and so...he does. He half-shuts his eyes, tilts his head, leans in, slowly...and Brendon jerks away so quickly he trips over his awkwardly bent legs and falls backwards on his ass.
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The touch doesn't come. Or rather...it doesn't come when it should, then it does, a moment later, but it's wrong, all wrong, too gentle, too kind, fingertips tentative on his knee when Ryan would give almost anything for this to be rough and purposeful and unmistakable, and it takes all his control to stop his limbs shaking. And that voice again, quiet, barely a breath. "Ryan..."
Ryan has lines for this. There are lists of people who want this to be sweet, the occasional women particularly but a fair share of men as well, clients who would prefer not to remember that they're clients, and Ryan has lines, but...
Soft, deeper--older--than in Ryan's memory; "Ry, talk to me..."
Lines and everything he's built here are rapidly falling apart, and it's all he can do to obey, to speak, to cling back into the standards that he probably murmurs in his sleep now. "What would you like tonight?"
It's all wrong, and he flinches away almost before the line's out, and the half of Ryan that's far, far too glad of that to be safe, and the part of him that's furious because he's good, and no one's drawn back from him in years are both drowned out by the part that is just fucked, completely lost, and doing more drowning than searching in the frantic effort to stay above water.
"No," the voice that isn't anyone, barely even sounds the same murmurs, standing again, "No Ryan, no, I...I've got to get you out of here." Louder, more firm. "I'm going to get you out of here."
Ryan sits, and breathes. Breathe. It's just a line. It's not the first time he's heard it by any means, and if he hasn't wanted to believe it like this since the early days, since the first few times when he did believe it, that means nothing. It's an easy lie, such an easy lie, sweet, meaningless promises made by sick, heartless men who like control, and Ryan doesn't fall for easy lies. Ryan has two very simple, well-acted alternative responses to that particular promise, in fact; pathetically fawning, credulous expressions of gratitude where appropriate, the equally easy lie that he doesn't want out, that he wants 'only to serve' for others, and Ryan's good at judging what they want to hear. Right now, he wouldn't have a clue, and that's terrifying. The former takes more acting, though, and Ryan's having enough trouble staying sitting on the bed right now, so he falls back on something like the latter, tailored as best he can, and begs himself to sound believable. "You don't have to," he murmurs, and his voice is steady, at least, "I want only--"
"No. No." It's loud enough, firm enough to cut Ryan off mid-sentence, and Ryan's pretty sure that's the intention. "No, look, Ryan, please--I...wait. Wait." He comes close again, drops back down to Ryan's level, and leans in, and Ryan can't help the way he tenses...but that's as close as he comes. "Is someone watching the room?" A whisper in Ryan's ear.
It takes Ryan a moment to process, but at least it's an easy answer. "You pay for privacy here, sir. This is a high class establishment. There is no one closer than the men you would have seen in the hall for security, unless you'd prefer--"
But--the name--the name he can't keep out, an ache in his head--Brendon Urie--draws back, just far enough to catch Ryan's eyes, just far enough that Ryan can't look away. "Really?"
His eyes are huge, and just exactly the same as they were a world away and eight years in the past when someone who wasn't Ryan, wasn't, really, saw them differently, and never forgot. His voice is still a whisper. "Then...why? Ryan...I...please..."
Ryan doesn't know what he's asking for. Ryan doesn't know anything, because nothing makes sense, because none of this makes sense, but he's inches away, eyes wide and inescapable, and Ryan doesn't get it, doesn't understand at all, but he knows what he's meant to do, and so...he does. He half-shuts his eyes, tilts his head, leans in, slowly...and Brendon jerks away so quickly he trips over his awkwardly bent legs and falls backwards on his ass.
:P And out of character limit, lol...