Chapter Text
The thing is, Ryan Ross doesn’t do guys. It’s not that he doesn’t like them. He does. He, in fact, likes cock, and has taken cock a few times. He likes guys. He just doesn’t do them. At least not since he started getting interested in this. People always tended to say he was bossy, but he never thought himself as a dominant person. That was of course until Gabe convinced him to go to this kind of light BDSM club, just to see some performance of a friend of him and, well, the rest is pretty much history.
So yeah, Ryan got into it when he had already a good record of vanilla sex with guys and girls, and thought it would be the same in this case. Only it wasn’t. For some reason, Ryan found it difficult to be a Dom with men. It just didn’t feel… nice. First he thought maybe it was some internalized misogyny, he just dominating woman. It wouldn’t be that crazy, almost every guy over the surface of the planet suffers of some of it. But then Z called him an “aesthetic slut” one day and Ryan realized, although he didn’t like the vocabulary used, she was actually right. He didn’t have an inner desire of dominating women, it wasn’t that guys intimidated him or that he saw them as equals and couldn’t take them as subs. It was just… that girls are prettier. Their bodies, their figures, breast, legs, lips, eyes. Everything is prettier. And Ryan likes pretty things. Guys are hot, yeah, but pretty? Not so much.
So he doesn’t do guys. Doesn’t take them as subs. He still fucks guys, just not on his daily basis. And it’s not a problem for him. He really is happy as he is.
He just wanted conversation. He promises. He didn’t even feel like creating a scene today, he was just… there, sipping at his drink, having some fun, watching the shows. And then this guy, this fucking weird guy, for lack of a better word, was sitting there looking all bored and shit. And he had this colorful drink in his hand that looked really delicious. Ryan just wanted conversation.
“Fucking awesome, right?” Ryan said, speaking about the performance going on, the sub was taking that spanking like a champ. “What are you drinking?” He didn’t even think about the guy being a sub. He didn’t fucking looked like one, anyway. “Looks tasty.” It’s just. Okay, not like Ryan was the best social skilled person. But the bored looking guy looked at him bored, his eyes scanning him before saying just one word.
“Beige.”
***
So here it is. Ryan has an ego. He’s not egotistical, but he’s a Dom for a reason. So, if anyone, and anyone means anyone, take him for granted, he gets fucking pissed. So, of course, he is absolutely pissed right now. Because he wasn’t offering shit. He didn’t want to take him home. He didn’t want to top him, or make him submit, or anything. He wasn’t being a Dom. He was trying to be nice. And now this fucking sub with his leather jacket and his shitty stubble and his cigarette between his fingers (honest to God, he didn’t looked at all like a sub) is implying that Ryan’s boring, bland, using a fucking safe-word when Ryan just wanted to be nice.
“Excuse me?” He asks, because he can’t believe what he’s heard. He doesn’t want to believe this little shit just… “Um. Wow, okay. Listen. I think you’re mistaken. I’m not offering…”
“Beige,” the guy repeats, now looking even more bored and taking a sip at his drink.
And really, Ryan should just go. Tell him to fuck off and leave, go talk to someone else, go home, whatever, stop wasting his time with this asshole. But he feels offended. This fucking sub is offending him. On purpose! Using a fucking safe-word with him when he’s not even his Dom! Ryan feels sorry for whoever’s in charge of this one. Speaking of which, they should try to control their pets.
“Look, I’m not interested. I only do girls,” Ryan says, just to make it clear. He’s not offering, asshole. He’s not interested in your obnoxious ass. He likes his subs obedient and pretty. And you’re nothing like that. Or, well, maybe those lips. Ryan could do good use of those lips, but that’s that. Nothing else. So Ryan’s about to go, that said. But this time the guy snorts a laugh, nodding and taking another sip at his drink, and Ryan’s blood boils in his veins. “What?”
“Nothing,” the guy says, and it’s the first time Ryan hears another word apart from that fucking color out of his mouth. “You only do girls. I can see why.”
“What the fuck does that means?” Ryan steps closer, frowning and getting a little into the guy’s personal space because fuck it, this guy’s playing him and he wants a fucking answer. If he doesn’t like it, he can use the color ‘red’ to get out of it. “You think I couldn’t do you too?” And that’s his Dom side speaking. Fuck being a nice guy. His voice changes, his posture changes, his fucking aura changes. Ryan can feel the rush of power in his veins.
And the guy fucking laughs.
“You think you could?” He asks. And that’s it. That’s all Ryan needs. He’s pretty easy, truth to be told.
“I could. And I will.”
“Sure, dude. Whatever.”
“I think the word you’re looking for is ‘sir’,” Ryan corrects him, and the guy just snorts a laugh again.
Ryan slaps him hard across the face.
He regrets it the moment he does it, and his heart pumps fast when he sees the guy’s face turning red, a bit of blood on the corner of his mouth because Ryan’s wearing his ring. He regrets it, because this guy is not his sub, dammit, maybe he’s not even a sub. And they haven’t agreed anything, mostly because Ryan hasn’t offered, because he didn’t want anything to do with this guy because he doesn’t do guys. Fuck, for all he knows this guy could be just an asshole, or maybe he’s a newcomer who doesn’t know best. Ryan’s about to apologize and get out of there when the guy looks at him, his eyes darker and the tip of his tongue touching the open wound of his lip, stepping closer into Ryan’s space.
“Beige,” he says, and Ryan's doubts vanish. He wants this. This is what he’s looking for.
Ryan grabs his face hard, using the few inches he got on the guy to impose himself. And he’s glad he’s taller, because he’s certainly not stronger.
“I’m gonna get you up there and make you kneel for me,” he hisses, digging his fingers in the bone, making it hurt. And the guy chokes on his breath a little, making Ryan smile.
“I don’t do stages,” he says, and Ryan thinks that he doesn’t do guys either but here they are. They can’t go to a private room. Ryan didn’t bring his kit, so he wouldn’t be able to do anything but use only his own hands, and that’s not how he works. Also, he wouldn’t be able to provide any kind of aftercare. So he’s about to say it’s stage or nothing, but the guy adds. “That’s a red for me.”
Ryan should stops it right here. He should, because this doesn’t make sense anyway. Did he already say he doesn’t do guys? This is his opportunity to get out of this nonsense.
“Then you’re going home with me,” he says instead. Way to go, Ryan. You and only you will be responsible if this gets out of hand.
They guy seems shocked for a second, and it’s weird to see that expression across his confident face. Then he smiles, crooked, releasing himself from Ryan’s grip with a sharp movement and finishing his drink.
“You don’t need to take me home to beat the shit out of me,” he says. “The nearest alley will do.”
“I don’t think I look like Tyler Durden, do I?” Ryan asks, frowning and grabbing the guy’s shirt this time, grazing their noses together. “I said you’re coming home with me.”
“And what if I don’t want to?”
“I don’t give a fuck about what you want. You’re mine tonight.”
*
Ryan’s still unsure as they walk to his car. He doesn’t fully understand what this is. This guy acts weird and it makes Ryan not being able to get into his Dom role completely. It feels like he’s forcing him somehow, because he doesn’t act like a sub at all. But he knows the use of safe-words and he’s totally able to use the color ‘red’, as he showed before, so Ryan imagines this is, as weird as it can feel, totally consensual.
The way home is not too long, but Ryan wants it to end the moment he starts the engine. This guy, honest to god, is fucking irritating. It seems like, now that Ryan has taking him as a sub (‘sub’, a word that’s totally losing its meaning right now), he has opened Pandora’s box. The guy doesn’t stop provoking Ryan, trying to get on his nerves the whole way. Ryan has to slap him again when they stop for a red light. He seems happy about it.
“Your name,” Ryan asks the moment they step in, taking off his coat and hanging it on the coat stand. “I won’t keep this on if I don’t know your name.”
“Brendon,” the guy says, looking around and walking in before Ryan, not waiting for an invitation. “Yours?”
“I already told you. You will call me ‘sir’, that’s the only name you need to know,” Ryan says, and that in fact would help him to get in character a little bit more. But of course, Brendon doesn’t seem willing to make his life easier.
“Oh, fuck off,” he says, and Ryan reacts right away.
He grabs him by his neck, slamming him against the wall and pressing hard, and Brendon groans and coughs, opening a shit-eating grin even if he’s fighting to breath right now.
“What the fuck did you just say?” Ryan digs his nails in Brendon’s neck, careful not to press his windpipe too hard but enough. “I think you need some discipline, boy.”
Brendon seems ready to answer, and Ryan would shut his mouth biting it, sucking at his wounded lip and tasting his blood, but he doesn’t know if Brendon’s been tested recently, he doesn’t know anything because they haven’t talked about anything, so he just chokes him harder. He moves his hand then to Brendon’s hair, long enough to fist and pull it, getting him away from the wall and kicking at the back of his knees, making him fall.
He drags him to the bedroom, it’s not that far anyway, and throws him on the floor near the bed, closing the door behind them. It’s not his main bedroom, of course, but it is a bedroom. Ryan doesn’t have the time or the money to have a proper dungeon with proper gear, so he has a bedroom with some toys. An iron bed and ropes, some canes and paddles, candles and a bunch of insertion toys, he doesn’t need anything else, he’s a very resourceful guy. The little fridge comes in handy not to need going to the kitchen for some water or snacks.
“Get on the bed,” he commands, standing in front of Brendon.
“Make me,” Brendon answers, and Ryan wants to laugh because he can’t believe this guy. He’s still a bit red from the choking, the marks of Ryan’s nails are on his neck, and his hair is a mess, his eyes shiny and his lip swollen. And still.
Ryan fists his hair again just to get him up, tugging at his leather jacket to take it off and revealing an arm full of tattoos that goes up and under the sleeve of his t-shirt. Brendon fights him, not to much but he does, and Ryan has to throw him on the bed and pin him down, using his body to hold him still and getting his hand down to unbutton Brendon’s jeans.
He doesn’t know what he expected. Usually when he inflicts corporal punishments, even if the sub enjoys it, it doesn’t particularly arouse them. It’s not a physical pleasure, but a mental one. And he’s seen male subs taking corporal punishment too, enjoying it, but being maybe half hard at most, completely flaccid if the beating wasn’t alternated with pleasure.
Brendon’s hard. Completely, absolutely, deliciously raging hard. And Ryan has to take a moment to watch him, half naked, his cock shiny and full red. Ryan mouth waters, and he has to blink a couple of times and almost shake his head to go back to earth. Brendon’s looking at him, expecting, his chest moving as he breathes hard.
“Don’t you dare to move,” Ryan grunts, and he gets out of the bed, kicking Brendon’s clothes out of his way to go get his rope.
Brendon doesn’t move, surprisingly, but when Ryan gets back to the bed he’s fully naked. He’s got an amazing body, lean with full arms and thighs, not too noticeable six-pack but a V-shape Ryan would love to dip his tongue in.
He has bruises too. Across his ribs, mostly. They don’t look like scene bruises. Ryan has seen bruises, he’s been the source of some (most) of them, he’s even seen scars and wounds. They all have a particular shape you can recognize as something done during a scene. These bruises don’t look like those at all. These ones look like a fight caused them.
He frog-ties his leg fast, he knows what he’s doing. Ryan likes rope, even if he’s never tied a man before and he lacks in knowledge about cock and balls bondage. Everybody has arms and legs and that’s enough for him.
“Up,” he says, and helps Brendon get on his knees, getting behind him and tying his hands together. He’d love to do a reverse prayer, but something tells him Brendon wouldn’t be too patient for it.
“Do you tie up your girls too or is it just me?” Brendon asks, looking back over his shoulder and laughing. “Afraid you can’t control me if you don’t restrain me?”
Ryan takes a deep breath and counts to three, stopping himself from whatever verbal response and opening one of the drawers of his bedside table, getting an anal hook. Ryan smiles when Brendon groans as he pushes the metal ball inside him, no lube, no preparation. If Brendon’s hair were longer, Ryan could tie the hook to it, but the wrist will have to do.
“I think you’re ready,” Ryan says, and pushes Brendon hard, making him fall face down over the bed.
He’s going to use the cane, of course he is, but first he wants to use his hands. He wants to, he needs to get that ass spanked with his bare hands. Ryan never had any preference for any body part, he just likes pretty things. Now, looking at Brendon face-down, tied up and hooked, his full round ass sticking out, he can honestly say this is one of the prettiest ass he’s ever seen.
The first slap makes Brendon jump and leaves a beautiful pink color across the cheek. The second and the third make Brendon groan and Ryan shivers. By the time he gets to ten, Brendon’s ass is flushed pink and Ryan’s cock feels hard inside his jeans. He increase the intensity for a few seconds, spanking faster and harder, feeling the skin tingling under his hand, then he strokes, massaging, giving him some rest.
“That’s all you got?” Brendon says, even if his breath is faster now. “I give it a 6 out of 10. I bet you can do better.”
Ryan slaps him as hard as he can, making him scream. This should teach him. Only it doesn’t. Brendon laughs then and rates it with a 7.5 out of 10, tells Ryan to keep working on it.
He gets the belt. He wasn’t going to, but the cane feels too light in his hand and he wants something he can grip hard as he beat the shit out of this brat. He counts every lash because Brendon sure as hell won’t, hearing him grunt and moan, watching him squirm and twist. Every ‘fuck’, ‘God’ and ‘yes’ coming out of Brendon’s mouth is like music to his ears.
Ryan’s arm hurts when he stops, and Brendon’s panting, sweating, his ass and inner thighs completely red. Ryan grabs him by his hips and turns him around, looking at him and pushing the wet hair out of his face, touching his lips, grazing the skin of his neck.
“Not so chatty anymore?” Ryan asks, looking down to see how Brendon hasn’t lost his erection. Ryan would even say he’s harder now, bigger. He gets the cane now, touching Brendon’s chest with it, moving it down to his cock, tapping on it. “Ready for more, sweetheart?”
Ryan delivers the first blow at the same time Brendon says ‘yes’, his voice low and ragged, his body reacting instantly. It’s mesmerizing, seeing him take it so well, so willing. He loves it, anyone could see it, how his skin get goosebumps and his cock twitches, how he moans and moans and moans, and Ryan hits him harder, softer, better, starting to know him, to know his body, working it.
“Don’t stop!” Brendon groans when he does, looking at Ryan with droopy eyes, moving against Ryan’s hand when he strokes the hurt skin, wanting. “Please. Please, don’t stop. Please keep going.”
Ryan does. He kind of wants not to, he wants to laugh and ask what happened to his wit, but Brendon’s begging so pretty, he’s saying ‘please’ and Ryan can’t resist. He has to reward him.
He doesn’t need to hit him that hard anymore, Brendon’s oversensitive body responding almost to everything Ryan does. Ryan unbuttons his own jeans, grunting when his cock finally springs free out of his boxers. He’s so hard it hurts, and he strokes himself looking for some relief.
“Fuck me?” Brendon asks, looking at him and licking his lips. And Ryan wasn’t going to, he didn’t have sex in mind when he brought Brendon home. “Please? Sir. Sir, please.”
Ryan’s only human.
He would fuck him like this, looking at his face, pushing two fingers inside his mouth just to see those lips wrapped around them. But he needs to get the hook out of Brendon before he sticks his cock in him, so he turns him around again, untangling the ropes and getting the hook out carefully because Brendon’s moving desperate. He opens one of the drawers to get condoms and lube, squeezing the latter between Brendon’s cheeks.
“No, don’t. No lube,” Brendon groans.
“You need it,” Ryan says, rolling the condom down. He does. Ryan’s big enough to actually make some damage. Or maybe not, maybe Brendon’s used to fisting and Ryan could just push it in without care, but he doesn’t know it and Ryan’s been doing this long enough to know he can’t trust a sub’s word in this state of mind.
He needed it. Ryan can feel it the moment he pushes inside and Brendon’s so tight he has to stop and breathe. Brendon curses ‘fuck, fuck, fuck’ as Ryan pushes again, holding his hips up and getting a pillow under them. Brendon screams the first time Ryan gets out and pushes all the way in at once, and from there on, it’s all chaos.
He fucks him hard, and digs his nails on Brendon’s skin as hard, fisting his hair as he pounds him, using his body as he please. Brendon chants ‘gonna come, gonna come, gonna come’ and Ryan sees how he scratches his hands together, like he was desperate to grab something, maybe to touch himself. Ryan does, touch him, stroke his cock, but by the time he does Brendon’s already coming, Ryan’s hand slick fisting his cock to milk him dry.
When Ryan comes is like fireworks exploding under his eyelids, his whole body trembling as he fucks his climax into Brendon, falling exhausted on top of him without even getting out of his body.
He would love to sleep right now, but he needs to take care of the rest. He cuts Brendon’s restrains because fuck the rope, he can buy more. He massages the marks the rope left on Brendon’s skin, helping him move and get confortable on the bed, then going to the fridge for a bottle of water and a can of Red-Bull, plus some snack and stuff. He doesn’t know Brendon, what he could need.
“Hey,” he calls, sitting beside him and touching his cheek. Brendon’s breathing hard and he’s a little cold. Ryan leans in to kiss his forehead. “You okay? Here,” he says, offering him the bottle of water.
Brendon looks at him confused for a moment, propping himself to lean on the pillows, taking the bottle from Ryan’s hand but not drinking.
“What are you doing?” He asks, and Ryan makes a face, laughing then.
“What?” He asks, opening his Red-Bull and drinking. God, he needs this. “Drink. Or are you one of those who don’t like aftercare? You need to drink, anyway.”
Brendon keeps looking at him weird, but he uncaps the bottle and drinks. Ryan makes sure he’s getting hydrated before moving again to get a hand towel and another bottle of water, then taking a blanket and leaving it at Brendon’s feet. He wets the towel and gets on his knees beside Brendon.
“Come here,” he says, but Brendon keeps looking at him funny, and Ryan puts the towel away. “Hey. If you don’t want aftercare, that’s fine.”
“What’s that?” Brendon asks, and now it’s Ryan’s turn to frown.
“What’s what?”
“Aftercare,” Brendon says, and Ryan eyes open wide. “I mean, it’s a thing you do or…”
“Was this your first time??” Ryan can't believe it. Really, he’s been with girls who were newcomers and they were nothing like Brendon. In fact, he looked like he was well versed in these kinds of practices.
“What? No!” Brendon laughs, or he tries at least. He’s still look dizzy and kind of pale. Ryan takes a chocolate bar and offers it to Brendon, who takes it immediately and starts eating it. “God, thanks. I’m not new. I’ve done this a lot, believe me. I mean, not this, but. Yeah. I’ve been in the club for, like, dunno, a year or so.”
“And you don’t know what’s aftercare?” Ryan asks, and Brendon shakes his head, chewing his snack. He looks kind of childish now that he’s not being an asshole. Almost cute. Ryan wonders what kind of Dom did he find that didn’t bother to provide aftercare. “Then what do you do? When you drop, I mean.”
“Oh. Well.” Brendon closes his eyes and tries to breathe deep, licking his lips. “I. Um. I usually feel like shit for like a week. Then come back for more. I guess I deserve it, if I keep coming back and…”
“It’s okay. It’s…” Ryan shakes his head. “You don’t. You don’t deserve it,” he says, and takes one of Brendon’s hands between his own, stroking lightly because he’s still not sure of what Brendon needs. “Look, aftercare is a must, okay? No one that skips it when their sub needs it can call themselves a Dom. Understand? Those people… they didn’t… That wasn’t right. That was unfair to you.”
“Okay…” Brendon says, his eyes lowering to where Ryan’s stroking his hand. He just looks, he doesn’t move away or tells him to stop, so Ryan takes the towel again and starts cleaning Brendon’s wrist, just to provide comfort to the bruised skin.
“I’m going to take care of you. Okay?” He asks, keeping his voice soft, waiting for Brendon to nod.
He starts cleaning him with the towel, the sweat on Brendon’s skin, the pink thick marks, the red raised welts. Brendon hisses sometimes, and Ryan kisses him softly where he’s not bruised, making soothing sounds and saying it’s okay, he’ll finish soon.
“Apparently I’m a smart-ass masochist,” Brendon says when Ryan’s taking care of the wounds on Brendon’s inner thighs. He tries not to feel sick thinking about how he could do this to somebody, hurt him like this. He liked it. They both liked it. This is a game. “And, for what I’ve heard, we’re not appreciated inside the community.”
“I know. And yeah, I noticed. You’re not really a sub. Or, I mean. You don’t enjoy just submitting to someone,” Ryan agrees, finishing to clean him up and throwing the towel on the floor, getting the blanket and wrapping Brendon with it. Brendon smiles, snuggling a little.
“Yeah, not really. I mean, I’ve never… I liked this, what we did. I never got to do something like this. I tried doing it the usual way at first, but it just…” Brendon sighs and looks at Ryan when he lies beside him on the bed. “I just like pain,” he says. “A lot.”
“Yeah, I noticed,” Ryan laughs, getting closer. “Cuddles?” He asks, and Brendon nods, unwrapping himself and pushing himself into Ryan’s arms, wrapping them both.
“I just know how to make people angry. But. The angrier they get, the harder they hit, so I get what I want.” Brendon laughs, resting his head on Ryan’s shoulder. “They usually beat the shit out of me and leave. You’re a weird one,” he says, and Ryan huffs and kisses his head.
“This is not weird. This is what it has to be,” Ryan corrects him, and Brendon says something like ‘yeah, yeah, whatever’ and Ryan wants to bite his cheek to teach him not to mock him. He doesn’t.
Brendon stays silent for a minute, just there, breathing, his heart still a bit accelerated, his body gaining back temperature.
“Can you kiss me?” Brendon asks, looking up at Ryan. “Is that allowed?”
“You mean, like, on your head? Like I just did?” Ryan asks, and Brendon laughs a little.
“No. I mean like…” And just like that, he leans in and kiss Ryan, right on his lips, soft and almost sweet, just a second before he moves away.
“Oh. Um. Yeah. I mean,” Ryan bites his lips and giggles. Needless to say it’s not on purpose. Ryan’s kind of glad Brendon’s not a proper sub, because he’s sure as fuck giggling is not the best thing for a proper Dom. “It’s allowed, yeah. Like. You can do that. Uh. Yeah, that.”
“Okay.” Brendon smiles, looking at him. “Well, kiss me?”
“Oh. Oh, yeah. Okay.” Ryan swallows, and he kisses Brendon fast just to prevent Brendon from seeing him get all flushed red. He kisses him, holding his face and making it slow. This is aftercare after all. Brendon kisses him back right away, although it’s a tired, almost weak kiss. Ryan can still taste the blood on his lips. It sends shivers down his spine.
“Do I taste like chocolate?” Brendon asks when the kiss breaks, and Ryan laughs again.
“Yeah, you do.”
“You taste sweet too,” Brendon replies, and he snuggles back against him, lowering his head to make himself more confortable. “You didn’t have to do this for me. Thank you, sir.” Brendon says, his voice sleepy already. And Ryan wants to say he actually did have to, that it’s his duty to take care of his subs.
“Ryan,” he says instead. “My name’s Ryan.”
“Okay, Ryan.” Brendon nods, and even if he’s totally dozing off, Ryan’s sure he’s never heard his name sound so pretty.