aulteration | that one thing

that one thing

[This probably shouldn't be happening, he knows, but- wasn't Petre the first one Ryan had ever experimented with? And things with John were still so new, and Ryan fully expects it not to turn serious, and... okay, and he hasn't been able to do anything with John lately, anyway. It's been driving him mad.

So it just sort of... happened. He knew he shouldn't trust Petre, but god, he's always so hard to say no to, and almost before he knows it they're on Ryan's bed. One hand is threaded into Petre's hair, he's fully focused on how those lips feel against his, and everything else is a pleasant haze save for a vague thought that drifts through.

(okay maybe this isn't so bad...)

And in the middle of all that, he's not paying nearly enough attention to hear the doorknob turn. It's rarely locked because he doesn't get visitors besides John often, and while he vaguely registers the sound it's dismissed before he can think about it. Ryan isn't expecting company, clearly it couldn't have been the door.]

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What's not so holy fuck, what -

[No. No, why is he even asking? This is all exactly what he should've expected. Petre was still way too suspicious and angry to take the order off without something up his sleeve, and that something was the fact that he knew exactly who John kept escaping to. Not Harry after all. Maybe better than that, maybe so much worse: whatever the case, he can't believe he's just stumbled in at the wrong time, either.

He's got to start thinking like he's on a stage when he's with Petre. The little asshole is playing to an audience at all times, even if it's just the person he's with, and there will always be a plot twist for the audience's benefit.]

Alright. I get it, Petre. You two have fun. [And with his jaw set, he moves to walk right back out again.]

[Petre knows exactly whose fault this is.

Days and nights spent outside the school, fucking and drinking and smoking and - God knows what else. John called him out on this rampage of self-destruction and somewhere in the middle of all the bitterness and Petre's delusions he actually managed to calm the giant and ask him to have his golden eggs back. They kissed - does Ryan know that? They kissed, and it wasn't even the first time - and when Petre pushed for more and John backed away the order was lifted. John was free to touch whomever he desired.

So this is his fault.

It should be obvious, why it was so important to him to have his agency back. It didn't even hit him until he retreated into the bathroom by his lonesome. Took a second to think about it and headed back outside. Trusted John to be held up for leaving his room so late at night. Trusted that he'd take another route and make it here first. Trust that Ryan would be alone and as vulnerable as ever, reluctant to let Petre in but unable to stop him from getting what he wanted.

What Petre wanted was to get caught. And oh, how wonderfully it's playing out now, with Ryan's thoughts pouring right out as they kiss, messy and hungry, nimble fingers already playing with the buttons of his pants to get his hand around the shape of his cock, tucked beneath his underwear.

The door turns, John steps in, and Ryan looks like an alarm's fired off in his head, as loud as anyone's thoughts when he's alone in a crowd.]

John! [he breathes, smile wide, practically a laugh.] John, wait. We were just getting to the good part.

[John's voice snaps him out of it instantly, eyes wide as he stares toward the door-- god, why did he say yes, he's fucked up, he's gone and ruined everything-- maybe they're not completely exclusive, he couldn't ask John to tie himself to him that way, but he's still sure that walking in on him with Petre of all people won't do Ryan any favors.

Once he gets over the shock, he pulls away from Petre; (oh my god this isn't a show) runs through his thoughts, face flushed with embarrassment at the idea. At the entire situation.]

John, please, don't-

[Don't what? Don't go? What's even going to happen if he stays, besides maybe arguing? ...despite that, though, Ryan really doesn't want him to walk away.]

...don't leave.

[Petre's words are laser-guided as usual, making him stop and stiffen up with his back to them. He'd never make any attempt to hide it, especially not when John was so clearly meant to see it in the first place, but that extra layer of shamelessness that he paints on everything just makes John want to close his hands around that skinny neck and never let go.

Instead, he focusses on Ryan. Not a show. Even the act itself is wiped out by the stupidity of that statement.]

So, what. He's too bad of an influence to trust me around him, but you're just fine? That's how it works now? You think he can't fuck with you, too, just because you're not - [Not everything that makes John who he is. Ryan's still vulnerable, just in different ways. And he doesn't doubt that Petre can play to those ways just as well.] - he just took the order off. Why d'you think he's suddenly here? Jesus Christ, Ryan, of course it's a show.

[Now he can deal with Petre.]

Y'know what? I'm not even blaming you this time. This one's on me. If I ever think you're actually making up for the shit you've pulled without some way of pulling more, it's on me.

[He barely stumbles back enough to let Ryan have some space again, grin dangling on his lips as he retracts his hands lazily, almost like he's drunk. John's silence, eyes locked on the other blond boy, makes Petre think he might jump at him and cause some damage - so intense and full of tension - so much that he doesn't even remember it's only Ryan's thoughts that get broadcast across the board.

Should Ryan want to step closer and face John in full, Petre won't get in the way. Instead he'll just stand behind with that insufferable smirk on his lips, gaze on the offended party. That's right. This one's on him.]

Got lost on your way to the kitchen, Johnny? Or - did you come here hoping to figure those things of yours out?

[He narrows his eyes and angles his head, feigning a moment of thought, finger on his chin and all. Ah. Back to John.]

Did I help?

[Ryan does move closer, pushing himself off the bed, fingers winding into the front of John's shirt as though that'll hold him here even if he decides to go. There's something almost desperate in the thoughts that both other boys can hear, and the flush in his face lingers; yes, this was a very effective bucket of ice water on the actual arousal there, but he'd been getting worked up and it still shows.]

It's not like that, I swear, I didn't think anything like that, I just--

[He hesitates, glancing back to Petre over his shoulder, then turns back and presses closer to John. The fact that he can do this again is such a relief that Ryan doesn't want to stop once he's started-- he's still aware of Petre behind him, still unsure exactly what either of them intends to do and hoping against hope it can just blow over for the moment. They can fight later.]

He was here, and fuck, I hadn't gotten to touch you, it was driving me crazy and I just needed something... just for that, that's all, John.

[He's still talking like he cheated. It's not that at all, because they're not together. The ease with which he played right into Petre's hands is what's infuriating John, allowed this scene to be set up as though he were a prop rather than a living person with an actual brain. But John got sucked into the role of lead without asking or assenting, didn't he? His thoughts about Ryan are getting pretty vicious, considering that.

Still, the fact that he realizes it doesn't make him return any of Ryan's touch, just leaning past him to look at Petre. Why keep it all in their heads at this point?]

Yeah, I bet he's good for when you just need something. Anything. I dunno why he doesn't fucking charge, honestly, he'd have enough money to buy the school before he graduated. [It's not that much of a low blow when Petre doesn't care, but he still can't have John.

... wait. He still can't have John. He's doing this all wrong, bickering with either of them right now, but especially with Ryan; they can actually talk about the fact that Ryan's become a living weapon later, but right now it's time for John to use him.]

But now you've got what you actually want back. And so do I. No need for him anymore. [He smiles sweetly, then finally looks up at Ryan and pulls his head down for a long, wet kiss exactly like Petre prefers - lots of murmuring sounds of pleasure and slick, damp sounds of mouths connecting, only some still part of the act because it is fucking good to kiss Ryan again. So good.]

[It's an immediate reaction: Petre's lingering smile fades completely once John's anger stops being directed at the both of them and instead he concentrates on lavishing the taller blond with that obscene kiss. The intensity in his eyes could be quite comparable to pure hate over jealousy, ice blue but burning hot.

No need for him anymore. How dare he. Discard Petre like that, say something like that like it could ever be true. He's worked too long and hard to worm his way into John's life properly, been trying to step in to that place where no one can seemingly walk in when he's been going around and opening the door to someone else. What the fuck makes Ryan so special? He's useless. Not interesting, not strong. He knows nothing about John. He could never understand.

There are over a dozen things he could do in this moment. Scream, claw at either one of them, force them apart and back one or both against the wall. He could even do something as simple as order them to hate each other. None of it would erase this moment, though, and rather than cut the head off the snake, he'd rather exact his revenge properly by giving it a taste of its own poison.

So of all the things he could do, he decides to wait. Not with indifference, but with a kind of patience that exudes resentfulness. He'll see. They'll both see.]

[At first, Ryan just freezes-- (what are you doing we're not alone here I don't...)-- but his protests fade as that kiss continues. He's aware (showoff) that John is getting back at Petre with this, just as Petre had expected John to walk in on them, but (god I missed this-) and he just can't bring himself to care.

Petre's still watching, but he can't help letting himself melt into the kiss anyway, arms wrapped around John and unable to keep the thought of what he wants from slipping out: his own hands tugging off John's shirt, John's hands at the waistband of his pants. Ryan had no idea he was being played by Petre, but he's all too content to let John do the same.

There's the faintest hint of the taste of tobacco in his mouth.]

[God, he can feel Petre's eyes burning holes through them. It's not what he wanted at all, is it? He miscalculated, didn't realize how attached Ryan really is to John. And there's a tiny flicker of guilt there, because he knows that his own growing attachment isn't at anywhere near the same level, but being around Petre brings out the true worst in him. He'll work this to his advantage and make it up to Ryan later.

The little thoughts make him smile against Ryan's mouth, but those images coax a very real moan out of him, edged with laughter because he's sure Petre can see them too. He finally breaks off the kiss, mouth wet and swollen, and looks past Ryan to Petre again.]

I'd say we're good here, Petre. Why don't you go find a bar and fuck the first pervert who'll buy you a drink?

[He's begging to get another, worse order slammed on him. But god, he's furious and triumphant and so drunk on both that he can't see sense.]

[God I missed this. And then images pour into Petre's head and he's more furious than ever. John's done this before, and not just once. Denied him what he was offering to Ryan without as much as half of what Petre promised him in return.

It doesn't happen that often, the animalistic side to him that tries to edge out of the surface of arrogance he usually plays. Hate and sex, that's all he can feel; he's said that before and it proves to be absolutely right even now. He wants to walk over to John and dig his nails right into his skin. His thumbs into his eyes. How dare he. (How dare he--)

And when John speaks and looks him in the eye, he makes no move to hide it. The darkness of his thoughts, probably all the louder to Ryan as he stands so close. The latter might think Petre's stride is fast because he's about to hurt John, but instead the hand that reaches for his neck clutches at his shirt, pulls him away from Ryan and makes it his turn to smash their mouths together. He's sure John will fight him off, and that will only make him tug even harder. Make sure he stays and doesn't go anywhere until he's decided he's properly done with him.

The kiss pulls out every trick in his sleeve. Licking, sucking, angling his head and closing their bodies in with his hand on John's crotch. Think Ryan could make him moan with the images in his head? Petre's hand promises so much more with a mere touch.

He's the one who shoves John away, creating even more distance between him and Ryan. It's hard to tell what's in Petre's mind anymore, what that intensity in his eyes means. All they can know for sure is that he's definitely not done with them, and won't allow them to be done with him.

Not while he turns and occupies himself with Ryan's mouth instead, either. The kiss he gets is quite identical to John's in intensity, and so much more experienced. It should be better, bittersweet. Vibrant and just wet enough.

Petre never says a word, not until he's apparently done. He just stares up at Ryan, hand on his cheek, then offers John the dignity of his attention.]

You'll be done when I fucking say so.

[It's gone up and down so quickly that it's hard to keep his head clear. Petre worked him up, John put an end to that before doing the exact same thing, and then before he knows it John's being pulled away-- there's a moment of panic there where he's sure Petre's going to do something awful, with the tone of those thoughts, but no. No, instead it's a kiss that Ryan can't pull his eyes away from, for all that he thinks he should try to interrupt; besides, he's really not about to piss him off more, invite any further anger from someone who's proven he'll act on it.

Then Petre's mouth is on his, and he can't pull away from that, either. It's too sudden, it's too good when all he's gotten is a series of interruptions between the attention he's been given-- but there's still worry in the back of his mind that surfaces when Petre finally speaks again.]

What do you want?

[John stands his ground all the way, almost leans into the strides coming for him, because physical violence is nothing compared to the threat he'd been expecting - he doesn't get a threat at all, though, instead letting out a muffled grunt as their mouths collide more violently than sensually. It sends a hot flare through his body, making him push away just as Petre had imagined he would, but he's being held firmly in place and fuck, they haven't kissed like this before. It really does feel like a last ditch attempt, everything being thrown at the wall to see what sticks, but Petre has so much to throw that John can't even feel properly smug about that. The sounds that start to rise up in his throat as Petre massages the front of his pants could still be objection, but it's not terribly likely when his hips are pressing against Petre's hand even as his hands keep pressing away against Petre's shoulders.

He gasps and stumbles backward when it ends, half embarrassed and half furious to find that he's already visibly hard, then stiffens with what almost sounds like a snarl as he watches Ryan and Petre kiss. So. This is where it's going, huh. And again, Ryan doesn't get it at all. Even if he's only had second-hand accounts of how Petre works, John can't believe how much is flying right past him.]

He wants me. And since you want me, and I want you, that means he needs you too. And the one thing he always wants is control.

[There's a saucy humour to the arch of his eyebrows, but his mouth is still drawn in a hard, enraged line.]

Getting it yet?

Yes, John, thank you so much for enlightening the class.

[He licks his own lips, looking at Ryan while he speaks, before resuming the kiss with a little moan. He's left John with an erection and knows it fully well. He could be basking in that fact, gloating to John that he's the one he's always wanted after all - just look at how he reacted - but instead he focuses on the other boy, works his hand between his legs as well to make this about him instead.]

Don't move.

[Should Ryan want to protest, he'll find that Petre's order reads as irresistible, the right and only thing to do, just as his power always works. Once it's settled he moves around him, wraps his hands around his body and starts to find his way down from Ryan's chest to his navel, unbuttoned pants giving room for him to work his grip between his legs.

He's looking at John all the way through, in between planting sweet kisses on Ryan's neck, nipping lightly at his ear. He wants the both of them hard. He wants them to crave each other's touch and be completely unable to reach until he says so.]

All the things you want to do to him, [He whispers in his ear, eyes relaxed,] Do them to me.

I know that, okay, I know, I... meant...

[He can't keep thinking clearly when Petre's kissing him like that again, the thought trailing off. What does Petre want to happen, is what he meant: what's he doing, what's the outcome he's angling for exactly? There's enough he could do to fuck with both of them, how does this factor in?

Don't move, he says, and Ryan just nods, almost dazedly. The attention is good, why would he even want to move when Petre's mouth is at his neck, hands groping at him? If he had a voice he'd be moaning at Petre's touch; as it is, he's managing to pull soft sounds from Ryan, stifled little whimpers and whines that are about the most he can manage, and he lets his eyes slide closed.

The next directions have him squirming in Petre's arms-- but he isn't struggling, only trying to turn to face him, make it easier to comply. He knows exactly what he wants to do to John, and there's no less enthusiasm than if it were really him in front of Ryan. His mouth quickly finds its way to Petre's neck, nipping and licking at the skin before that teasing attention turns to sucking a mark there; meanwhile his fingers are threading into his pale hair, taking hold and tugging at it to try to get him to tilt his head to the side. Ryan's pressed against him, his other arm wrapped around Petre to keep them close, and his thoughts are a sort of near-static that should be familiar to John-- the faint buzz of pleasure without any distinct thoughts slipping through, always the best indication that he's pretty thoroughly distracted.]

[The thing is, John can't tell an order when it's not being directed at him, and he's used to Petre being unwilling to use them in this context. All he sees is Petre murmuring and whispering to Ryan and Ryan giving into it completely, when he'd clearly thought of it as cheating a moment before. Well, Petre seduced him well enough for the initial reveal, didn't he? Obviously Ryan's got an attraction there, which just makes him want to spit nails when he considers everything Ryan's said warning him away from Petre and acting wearily frustrated when John kept going back.

(But this attraction bounces all around the room, doesn't it? They've formed themselves a perfect triangle with energy shooting back and forth down the lines, and now the line between Petre and Ryan is glowing hot and red and leaving him out and he can't fucking stand it.)]

Ryan. [And Ryan turns around, starts working on Petre's neck, so utterly given over to him that his mind has gone silent. Motherfucker. Again, in his thoughts:] Ryan!

[Nothing. Did Petre get him, after all? He can hear the sounds of Ryan's mouth sucking at Petre's skin, see his tongue flick out here and there, making him flush as that first inkling of arousal swells further and flush with fury.]

Ryan, for fuck's sake! [Now he's trying to get between them, tugging first at Ryan and then at Petre's shoulders when he realizes that Petre is a much more realistic target for breaking them apart.]

[There's the very clear temptation to laugh in John's face, growing increasingly hard and frustrated that neither Ryan nor Petre seem interested in doing anything about it. No, Ryan's focus is entirely on the other blond, and he's brimming with satisfaction at the thought, even knowing it was produced by an order. The intention here isn't just to get pleasure, it's to get John as flustered as possible. Angry and humiliated.

But while Ryan continues to blindly work on Petre's neck, he tilts his head back and grabs at John's hair.]

On your knees.

[Another order. He follows the boy until it's completed, and it's obvious what he wants. John's right - Petre wouldn't have him finally engage with him in a sexual place with the use of his power, but this is an entirely different matter. Ryan is the one he's aiming for now. The one whose pants he tugs down, nudging him to turn his hips to John's face, until his flushed cock is just about a breath away. He's like a doll, and Petre knows exactly how huge a favor he's about to do him.]

Go on, John. Since you both want it so much.

[Suck him off.]

[He's all too content to let Petre do whatever he wants with him; even if he had any hope of fighting off orders like those, Ryan might not want to, distracted as all the attention keeps him. The exposure is noted only vaguely, with a bit of hope that maybe it means he'll get even more-- the faint feeling of someone's breath against the flushed and sensitive skin of his cock is so promising, though, instantly draws his attention.

Ryan doesn't even look at him. All his attention is still on Petre-- everything he wants to do, it'll be done to him, not John-- but he does reach down to blindly thread his fingers into John's hair.]

Please-- god, yes, please...

[His head's tilted to try to find Petre's mouth again, eager to keep kissing him. He's got to express that need somehow, beyond the way his hips nudge forward almost as though he's continuing to silently plead for it.]

[John bares his teeth and hisses like a cat when Petre gets hold of his hair, clearly ready to launch another attack, but he's ordered to his knees before he gets the chance and drops like a ball-jointed doll immediately after the words are spoken. It only takes a moment for the haze of the order to clear, and once it has, he knows why Petre has positioned him like this. He knows long before Ryan's pants are down, his cock nudging at John's lips.

Eyes wide, he looks from Ryan to Petre and back. He's never done this. They haven't gotten anywhere near this far in their experimentation. He'd rather do it on Petre, honestly, since it'd hardly break his heart if a bit of teeth slipped through and scarred him, but he could easily hurt Ryan - and Ryan could just as easily hurt him, mind as blank as it appears to be right now. If he's just a total slave to pleasure, he could ram himself right down John's throat and choke him.]

Ryan. [Urgent, trying to break through and reach him.] Take it easy, alright? I'm gonna do - fuck, whatever I can, just take it easy on me.

[He wants to crush Petre's face with a fist when Ryan starts kissing him again, but instead he takes the challenge offered and wraps his mouth around the head of Ryan's cock. Not bobbing yet, just holding onto the shaft and stroking firmly as he sucks on that one spot to adjust to the feeling.]

[He's caressing John's hair all the while he's down there, watching him while his mouth occupies Ryan's, fully confident, fully triumphant. He lets a little sound escape when John complies, when his mouth forms a ring round Ryan's cock and takes those first steps.

His own lips curl into a grin, ravishing Ryan's mouth, his jawline and neck. Then his hand travels down to grab at his, place it over his own growing bulge. Ryan has to do something, too, starting by taking his clothes out of the way.]

Get to work.

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that one thing

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