Rating:

Explicit

Category:

M/M

Fandom:

Bandom

Relationship:

Brendon/Ryan

Tags:

barebacking, canon divergent, creampie, knotting, omegaverse

Stats:

Posted on:

2020-07-10

Words:

2,681

Despite being the only Alpha and Omega in the band, Brendon and Ryan have never slept together before.

Not to say that Ryan doesn’t want to. Oh, he wants to. After being in a band with him for nearly ten years, and hearing the other Omegas Brendon’s taken back when he’s in his rut, Ryan has long accepted that yes, he wants to sleep with his lead singer.

But he can’t. It’s a fucking miracle that they’ve made it as a band for ten years, and Ryan’s not going to do anything to jeopardize that now. And he knows that sleeping with his lead singer would do that. He’ll just get his painful craving to get knotted during his heats from random strangers he picks up, and Brendon will do the same during his ruts with random Omegas. Like they always do.

Like they always do.

*

Ryan adopts Dot from a shelter in L.A. He can’t deny the yearning he gets when he sees Brendon with Bogart and Penny, and even sometimes when Brendon’s dogsitting Indie. He knows it’s cliché of him to be an omega and want to start a family, and with Brendon of all people. But while he can’t do the Brendon part, he knows at least he can get a dog.

Dot is happy and affectionate and occupies a good amount of Ryan’s thoughts and time, which is what he needs right now. They’re on break between tours and Z kicks him out almost every evening now to spend time with her girlfriend. Which is totally fair. Ryan wishes he had a boyfriend, or a girlfriend, (or Brendon), but now he has Dot who’s still learning how to only piss outside and sometimes goes for Ryan’s leftovers when he’s not looking, so it’s good enough for now.

Of course, after a week or so he posts a picture on his Instagram and the second comment he gets (because the first comment is always some fan) is:

brendonurie when am I gonna meet her??? text me ASAP Ross 😠

Ryan’s heart skips. He’s not sure how he’d feel with Dot and Brendon, but it’s not like he can say no. He just knows it’ll be overwhelming. A little part of him is still thrilled at the prospect though, and he knows that Brendon knows that he checks his Instagram comments almost as soon as they’re posted, so he sighs with a smile and goes to his chat history with Brendon. (Nah dude c minor would work better)

Ryan Ross:
If you want to meet Dot you better bribe me.

Brendon Urie:
With what???? We both know you have enough money. Food?? Kings tix??? Sexual favors??? lol

Despite everything, despite Ryan’s self control, his face still flares up. He tries to ignore the last bit.

Ryan Ross:
Idk man, take an IOU. Be in my debt (forever.)

Brendon Urie:
Fuck you
anyway are you free today?? Rn?? I wanna see your girl!!

Ryan Ross:
Yeah yeah fine I’m not doing anything
Come over and let me kick your ass at Mario Party

Brendon Urie:
I’m not letting u kick my ass at anything

It’s only a matter of time before Brendon arrives at Ryan’s house. Ryan knows because he hears the lock turning; Spencer, Z, and Dallon have a key to his house, too. He has a key to theirs, too, because of the Great Band Meeting That Wasn’t in 2012 when Ryan called for a meeting then promptly passed out for thirteen hours while his bandmates were locked out on his front porch, trying to call him and break the door down and nearly called the police because they thought he was dead or coked out in an alley or something.

Dot perks up when the door opens, and immediately runs towards Brendon as he sing-songs, “Honey, I’m home!” Ryan rolls his eyes and ignores the quiver in his stomach at the words, and gets up to follow Dot.

“Oh, you must be Dottie! You’re such a cute girl, aren’t you.” Brendon’s already kissing and nuzzling Dot’s nose as Dot sniffs him, and licks a proffered hand. She’s still small enough to be considered a puppy so it’s no surprise when Brendon scoops her into his arms and rubs her nose with his own again.

Ryan walks over with his hands stuffed in his pockets. “Wow, when will I get that kind of treatment?” he says, as drily as he can.

Brendon turns to him and smirks. “It’s okay Ross, you’re cute enough for me,” he says, and blows him a kiss. “But you’re never gonna be as cute as Dottie here, aren’t you?”

“Outclassed by my own dog.” Ryan sighs dramatically.

He is glad that Dot seems to like Brendon though, although he’s not sure Brendon will ever meet a dog that doesn’t like him. He takes to them like some people take to children, and the way it makes Ryan feel… well, he’s been yearning since they both presented, so it’s not really anything new.

And the way he looks at Ryan doesn’t falter when he lets Dot down to sniff at their ankles. It’s a way that sometimes makes Ryan second guess himself, that maybe sleeping with Brendon wouldn’t ruin the band.

Brendon says, “So are we gonna play Mario Party or what?”

“You only love me for my Wii U,” Ryan says, heading back towards the living room.

“And your dog.” Ryan can hear the grin in Brendon’s voice. “Don’t forget your dog.”

*

Ryan’s heat comes three days later.

He thought he’d been keeping track of it well enough, but since adopting Dot, the days and weeks must’ve slipped his mind. He wakes up in a cold sweat, empty and aching, on the verge of tears. It’s been a long time since he’s had a heat where he doesn’t have a knot ready—usually he picks up the night before, at some alpha-and-omega anonymous club, where they can find someone for a few days, to keep him full and his bed warm. Often it’s just the knowledge that he’s prepared that soothes him, that make his heats ten times more tolerable.

Tonight, however, the pain is visceral, through his body and mind and heart. Dot whines and escapes from where she’s cuddling with him, but Ryan can’t seem to care. He fumbles for his phone on his nightstand.

All he can think about right now is Brendon, Brendon, Brendon. Brendon with his dogs and Dot and with him, grinning at him across Ryan’s living room while he kicks Ryan’s ass at Mario Party. Brendon at the front of the stage, singing his lungs out; Brendon next to his mic, singing his half of the twentieth duet they wrote together; Brendon on tour, hogging all the Poptarts or climbing into Ryan’s hotel bed because he “likes his scent” or jerking off in his bunk, bringing in another Omega during his rut…

Ryan whines and writhes in his bed. There are tears streaming down his face, he realizes, and on his phone he goes to his call history, presses Brendon’s name as soon as he sees it, presses his phone against his ear.

“Ryan?” Brendon’s voice is rough with sleep. Ryan whimpers again.

“Brendon,” he whispers. “Brendon, Brendon. Alpha.”

Brendon’s voice is louder, clearer now when he says, “Wait—Ryan?”

“Need you, Brendon,” Ryan gasps. His hand has found his way to his cock without him realizing, and his hole is leaking slick. He can’t think of anything except how much he wants Brendon’s knot. “Alpha—Brendon—need your—heat—”

“Okay, okay, slow down,” Brendon says, and Ryan whimpers. “Are you saying you’re—you’re in heat right now?”

Ryan nods, then remembering that he’s still on the phone, says, “Yes.”

“God, okay.” Ryan hears some rustling in the background, the sound of keys jangling. “I’m coming, don’t—”

“Can you stay on?” Ryan asks. “Wanna—wanna hear you. Want you so bad.”

“Of course, but I’ll need to drive,” says Brendon. Ryan can see him clearly in his mind, running downstairs, closing and locking his front door. “And if you keep talking I might crash my car.”

Ryan whimpers. “Just—I feel so empty, Brendon. I need you to—”

“Yeah, I know, you need my knot,” Brendon says, and Ryan inhales sharply. Brendon must hear it too because he says, “Shit.”

“Brendon,” Ryan pleads, and Brendon says, “I’m on my way.”

*

Ryan has stripped on his bed by the time Brendon enters his bedroom. Ryan turned the light on because he knew he’d want to see Brendon when he entered, and as soon as Brendon steps into the room, Ryan sees the way his eyes darken, his pupils dilate, almost instantaneously.

“Ryan,” he growls.

And in one, two strides, Brendon’s over him, on his bed, mouth closed over his. Ryan twists and grasps as much of Brendon’s sleep clothes—a tanktop and fucking boxers—as much as he can, letting himself be taken, submerged into Brendon’s scent. Brendon has always smelled heady and a bit spicy which Ryan has always loved, but now turned on (and Ryan can feel Brendon hard against him, oh god) and it’s like Brendon’s scent has a life of its own, wrapping around him, in his nostrils and down his throat until Ryan’s not breathing anything except for Brendon, dark and thick and sweet.

He tastes the same way too, tongue working against Ryan, licking inside and against his teeth. Ryan moans, not doing much but responding, letting Brendon invade him and take him over. Brendon’s fingers go to Ryan’s thighs and Ryan shivers; but Brendon’s fingers keep going back and back until they’re stroking around his rim, over his entrance, dipping into Ryan minutely.

Brendon moans when Ryan’s slick gushes out onto his fingers. “Holy shit,” he says into Ryan’s mouth (and later Ryan will wonder how he does that.) “You’re so fucking wet.”

“For you,” Ryan mumbles, bringing a leg back, trying to push down on Brendon’s finger. “Alpha, Brendon, please, knot—”

“Patience, omega,” and Ryan can’t deny the type of thrill that sends through him. He’s as under as Brendon, who slides a second finger in, twisting and turning and thrusting against his prostate. Ryan nearly careens off the bed and the noise he makes is loud and high-pitched.

“Knot, please,” he begs.

Brendon pulls away, looks at him with a slight crease in his eyebrows. “You won’t be able to take it,” he says.

That makes Ryan even more excited, at how big Brendon will be, and he shakes his head, says, “Don’t care, want to—want to feel it, please alpha. Brendon.”

“Shit,” Brendon curses, “fuck.” He fumbles with his boxers, kicking them all the way down.

It’s not like Ryan’s never seen Brendon’s dick before, but right now, in heat, the sight of Brendon’s bobbing erection makes his mouth go dry, and another wave of slick pulses out of him. “Now,” Ryan babbles, pushing his ass towards Brendon, pressing his hips forward, trying to get Brendon’s cock in him as quickly as he can. “Now, now, now, please, Brendon, please please please—”

He feels the fat head of Brendon’s cock touch his rim. He sobs, pushing down. “Alpha, I—”

“I’m not going to hurt—” Brendon starts.

Once Ryan can feel Brendon actually inside him, he thrusts his hips forward, getting more of Brendon’s length in in seconds.

Brendon groans, pausing. Ryan scrabbles at his back, clawing at his shoulders. “Calm down,” Brendon huffs. “I don’t—wanted this so long, don’t—don’t want to hurt you—”

“You’re not going to,” Ryan whines, then, “want you to, Brendon, yours, want your knot—”

“Shit,” Brendon says again, and then fucks his dick all the way into Ryan. Ryan knows because he feels Brendon’s heavy balls against his ass cheeks, and he moans. “Shit, Ryan, okay.”

The stretch would burn if Ryan wasn’t in heat, but right now it’s a pleasure, only intensified as Brendon fucks into him, making Ryan feel his entire girth, a hugeness that spreads through Ryan’s body and veins and soul. The ecstasy radiates through him, quivering as Brendon takes him, buries himself into him, as deep as he can get. The slick still leaking from Ryan’s hole makes the way for Brendon’s cock easier, but it’s soon enough when Ryan knows he needs more than just a good dicking, he needs, he needs—

“Alpha, alpha, alpha,” he’s moaning, and he hears Brendon’s voice, singing, grunting, “Ryan, Ryan.” When the base of his cock starts to swell, Ryan gasps, crossing his legs and ankles around Brendon’s middle, feeling it as Brendon fills his insides. His knot is locked inside of Ryan, caught past the rim and growing as Brendon moans, inside of him. Ryan gets more and more lightheaded the bigger Brendon’s knot gets, until he’s dizzy and delirious with how much of his body is just Brendon. Brendon is thrusting still, rutting, and Ryan wants to keep him inside, massive and thick and warm, owning him.

“Gonna come, Ryan?” Brendon asks, and Ryan almost forgot his own orgasm, caught up in just the blissful feeling of Brendon. But Brendon gets his hand around Ryan’s cock, and must know how much Ryan loves being filled, because he also touches where they’re joined with calloused fingers, by his knot and Ryan’s entrance.

He strokes Ryan’s rim and says, “Come,” and Ryan sobs, tips over the edge, releasing from every inch of his body. His hole spasms around Brendon’s cock and he wants to feel him come, wants to feel Brendon marking him, mumbles, “Alpha, alpha, come in me, please, please, please, please—”

Brendon groans and then he is, white and thick and good. Ryan cries out again, at Brendon emptying himself into Ryan’s body, gushing into him with his knot still lodged into Ryan. Ryan says, “Ah, ah, ah,” even when his own orgasm is over, because feeling it, knowing that Brendon has dumped a part of him in Ryan, is knotting him, fills him with such bliss that he hasn’t had from other alphas before.

When they come down, sweaty and satisfied and Brendon still in his tank top, Ryan pushes Brendon’s bangs away from his forehead. Brendon looks down at him and says, “I’m stuck.”

Ryan laughs, pushes Brendon’s shoulders down until he’s lying on his back. With Brendon’s knot still in him, Ryan settles on top, head tucked against Brendon’s neck and shoulder.

“I can’t believe you came for me,” he says, as the haze of his heat starts to fade a little bit, now that he’s sated with a knot in him. Then: “I can’t believe you knotted me.”

“Well, what else was I supposed to do?” Brendon says. “You were begging me on the phone, you expect any sane alpha to resist that?”

“Maybe,” Ryan says. He tilts his head up, brushes Brendon’s bangs away again. “We don’t have any claims on each other.”

Brendon scoffs. “After knowing each other for years, I’m surprised we didn’t do this sooner.” He strokes up and down Ryan’s side, fingers sometimes straying back to where they’re joined, but it turns Ryan on less than it just makes him happy. The reminder for both of them.

Ryan swallows, and takes a chance. “Do you want me to help you then, during your rut?” he asks. And then, lightly, “Sexual favors and all.”

Brendon laughs. “Okay. I mean, yeah,” he says. “I guess that means I’ll be staying here for a while.” Then he makes a face. “Then I have to ask Spencer or Z to look after Bogart and Penny.”

“We could always go to yours,” Ryan says, and an idea occurs to him. “And I can bring Dot.”

“Oh! Good idea.” Brendon grins. “We’ll be like a little family. With our occasionally neglected children.”

Ryan laughs, ignoring the thrill that spreads through him at the mention of family. It’s not real, but it’s fine because he and Brendon are helping each other out, and that’s all he needs. It’s more than enough. Maybe sleeping with his lead singer won’t affect the band at all.