Carry On and On and On, Ryan/Spencer, NC-17

Spencer only feels a little bit ridiculous while he stands in line next to Ryan, but that feeling intensifies pretty quickly when the guy in front of them (hair dyed inky black, bangs totally obscuring one of his eyes, jeans even tighter than Ryan's) turns around and gives Ryan the up and down.  He's mostly successful at tuning them out ("It's just that Gerard's music matters, you know?"  "He totally understands what it's like, high school is hell.") but he doesn't miss the guy scribbling his number on Ryan's palm before slipping away with vague noises about having an in with the venue and that Ryan should call him after the show, they'll totally hang.

 

"Yeah, Ry, don't forget to call," Spencer grabs Ryan's palm, "Archie so you can totally hang.  Archie? Seriously?"  Ryan rolls his eyes, smirks at Spencer a little before schooling his features back into a carefully practiced mask of disinterest in his general surroundings. 

 

-

 

The disinterest is pretty much totally gone as soon as My Chem takes the stage, Ryan's eyes are huge and bright, hands joining the sea of others stretched toward the stage, and when Gerard Way opens his mouth and wails the opening lines of "I'm Not Okay," Spencer's a little scared that Ryan might actually swoon and faint.  The kids get wild pretty quickly, and Spencer's all for feeling the music, fuck he's feeling it now, the bass vibrating up from the floor, into his legs, making him a little dizzy with adrenaline, but Ryan had insisted on pushing as close to the barrier as he could and he's catching some pretty vicious elbows in his quest to get the full effect of Ray Toro's thighs.  Spencer's considerably bigger than most of the kids surrounding them, and he presses up tight against Ryan's back, winds an arm around his skinny waist and throws his other elbow out, clearing a pretty effective path through the four or five deep crowd between them and the barrier.  He drops his arm from Ryan's waist once he's pressed against the metal, but sticks close out of necessity and the weird rush of protectiveness he always, always feels around Ryan.   Ryan wiggles around a bit, leans into Spencer, shouts, "You are so awesome, Spencer, Gerard Way is going to sweat on us," and Spencer laughs into the back of Ryan's neck when he turns back to the stage, rapt. 

 

-

 

There seems to be a fundamental flaw in Spencer's "Get Ryan To The Stage" plan, and that flaw is the fact that My Chemical Romance does, in fact, make Ryan dance and also Spencer has a cock.  A cock that Ryan is repeatedly wiggling back into, brushing up against as he jumps, and Spencer is seventeen, okay, there is only so much he can be expected to take.  He's trying his best to keep his hips a safe distance from Ryan's ass, but the surging crowd takes care of that pretty quickly, and Spencer can tell when Ryan realizes what's going on because Ryan goes absolutely still and Spencer is going to die of embarrassment.  Except for how Ryan closes his eyes, tips his head back onto Spencer's shoulder and grinds back into Spencer.  Holy shit.  Spencer's breath stutters a bit, he leans in, says, "Ry?" as quietly as he can while shouting over the crowd, over the music pounding around them.  

 

Ryan just reaches back in response, grabs at Spencer's arm and wraps it back tight around his waist as he moves against Spencer in dirty rhythm to "Venom."   Spencer's hand is flat against the skin of Ryan's belly where his tiny shirt has ridden up, he can feel the muscles flex beneath his palm as Ryan moves against him and his cock is so hard it's throbbing.  He closes his eyes, buries his face in the crook of Ryan's neck, and before he can tell his body no he find himself thrusting forward into the steady grind of Ryan's hips, hard and desperate, the movements lost in the motion of the crowd that's pushing them up hard against each other, against the biting metal of the barrier. 

 

He feels more than hears the groan that Ryan lets out and then Ryan's hand is covering his where it rests on his belly, pushing it down, cupping it over his erection, and christ.  Spencer doesn't know if it makes it better or worse that Ryan is as hard as he is.  Ryan lets go of his hand, curling his long fingers around Spencer's forearm and holding on tight as Spencer presses his palm down onto Ryan's cock through the tight denim of his jeans. He feels . . . he feels both private and exposed at the same time, he's basically dry humping his best friend in public in a crowd of people, but he knows that no one can distinguish the movement of their bodies from the rest of the writhing crowd, no one but him can hear the harsh little pants breaking free from Ryan's chest. 

 

Spencer's not breathing too evenly himself, and he gives up all pretense of control right around the time the first driving chorus of "Helena" rolls over the crowd.  He grips Ryan's hips with his free hand, hard, curling his fingers tight under the sharp jut of Ryan's hipbones.  Ryan's hips stutter against Spencer's palm, his hand clenches down painfully hard against Spencer's arm, and Spencer can feel Ryan's cock twitch a little under his hand as he comes, feels the slight tacky warmth start to seep through the denim and then Spencer's gone, pushing his hips hard into Ryan's ass, pressing him tight against the barrier as he comes in his pants.

 

-

 

The ride home is maybe not as awkward as Spencer was expecting, aside from the whole "came in my pants earlier tonight" issue.  Ryan just quirks an eyebrow at Spencer when he's getting out of the car, calls, "Hey Spence?  Good concert."  Spencer snorts a little, and yeah, good going, that's attractive. 

 

 "Gonna go home and call Archie?" he asks, leaning over into the window.  He's feeling equal parts bitchy and bold, can't quite help himself.  Ryan just holds up his palm, covered in obscure black smudges, and nods his head at Spencer's right arm, the one he'd been holding onto earlier.  There are matching smudges staining his skin and Spencer can feel his cheeks heat up just a bit at the thought of how they got there.  

 

"Give me some credit, Spence, he was wearing a My Chem shirt to the show.  I have standards."  Ryan's tone is light, but his eyes are searching Spencer's face, dark and a little intent.  It makes something warm bloom through Spencer's belly. 

 

His voice only catches a little bit when he says, "Yeah, everyone knows the cool kids save their My Chem shirts for LJ camwhoring," and the smile Ryan gives him before flipping him off his wide and bright, crinkling up the corners of his eyes.