Staying Still
Ashlee. Ryan. Pete. Mostly het.
NC-17
This is fictional. Written for my own enjoyment, with no intent to start rumors or hurt reputations.



"Chin up." Ryan says.

Ashlee raises her head and stares at the ceiling fan. Pete's bathroom ceiling is off white. It is not very interesting. Ryan's hand is steady but she still flinches when the pencil drags a little too hard against her cheek. Ryan huffs out a tiny, annoyed breath every time she moves. The quick puffs of air against her neck tickle even more than the eyeliner. She tenses all her muscles to try to keep still. She's not sure if she's making things better or worse.

Ashlee can hear Pete's laugh from the door, and she moves her head just a little to see what's going on. Ryan slams his eyeliner hand against the counter and exhales loudly.

"I can't do it right if you keep moving." Ryan says.

Pete laughs louder, and Ashlee really turns to look at him leaning against the door frame. His expression is smug. Bastard.

"She's even worse than I am." Pete says.

"She's worse than Brendon, and that's saying a lot."

Ryan looks stressed out, like he's doing something way more important than drawing stuff on her face. Sometimes boys are stupid.

"It doesn't have to be perfect, and I'm barely moving at all." Ashlee says.

"You're all," Ryan does a flinchy thing where he looks sort of like he's having a seizure. Pete starts twitching, too. They laugh like they are being hilarious instead of moronic.

"Oh, fuck off. Give it to me and we'll see who's all," Ashlee twitches once, then reaches for the pencil. Ryan jerks his hand away, then throws the pencil to Pete. Ashlee rolls her eyes.

"OK, OK." Pete says, and holds the eyeliner up in a grand gesture. "Five dollars I can make both of you flinch."

"No." says Ashlee.

"The last time you bet me something it ended with Brendon drinking your piss out of a Redbull can." Ryan says.

Pete twirls the pencil a little. No one looks impressed.

"Ten bucks?" Pete says. He seems to have deflated a little.

"I'm not going to let you anywhere near my eyes with that thing. How stupid do you think we are?" Ryan says.

Pete throws the eyeliner back at Ryan. Ashlee's pretty sure he was aiming for his head, but Ryan catches it effortlessly.

"Whatever. Have fun, girls. I'm going to call someone interesting."

They laugh a little as Pete's footsteps head down the hall. Ashlee turns to look in the mirror. Lines are traveling out from her left eye, like a kid's drawing of a sun. Her right eye is lined all around, and the corner turns down and becomes the fine outline of a goldfish. It's a little trippy and a lot ridiculous, but it's good. Ryan's got talent at this, whatever this is.

"It's really beautiful." Ashlee says. She feels a little guilty for messing up Ryan's work.

Ryan smiles, hair falling into his face. Maybe that's why Ryan's taken to wearing headbands. Maybe he's just an eccentric pothead. Ashlee reaches forward and pushes Ryan's hair behind his ear. Ryan sharpens the pencil, and Ashlee straightens up. She won't mess it up this time. She was doing a good job of staying still until Pete laughed at her.

Ryan doesn't start drawing on her face. He catches her wrist, and turns it over. He starts to fill inside the lines of the heart tattooed on her wrist. He outlines the heart, then outlines the outline. The heart grows, and then Ryan is drawing curlicues, and dots, and tiny faces inside the maze of lines. He gets in close to her arm, and Ashlee watches his brow knit together in concentration. She imagines getting tattoos like this, a hundred tiny images knit together until they cover her whole arm. So many little pieces becoming part of something huge.

Ryan's thumb presses into the soft skin of her elbow, and he guides her arm up so he can look at the other side. He stares at the blank skin for a few seconds, like he's trying to decide what to draw. His expression changes, and he takes her hand instead. Ryan lets his fingertips move in small circles over her hands, rolling the joints in her knuckles and making her fingers fist in toward her palm.

"Draw knuckle tattoos." Ashlee says at the same time that she thinks it. She pulls her hand free, and places both hands on her knees where Ryan can work on them.

"What should they say?" Ryan asks.

Ashlee thinks LOVE HATE, and FUCK ONTD, and PETE RYAN.

"Whatever you want." Ashlee says.

Ryan sharpens the pencil again, and then just looks at her hands for a while. Ashlee is about to ask him what he's thinking when he leans in and starts to write. It's old school tattoo font that makes her think of sailors and rockabilly boys. Slow and steady Ryan writes out REAL SELF. He moves back to admire his work, then looks up at Ashlee.

"My real self has knuckle tattoos?" she laughs. Ryan smiles a little self conscious.

"I just wanted it to be positive. I like 'fear gone' and 'full moon', but those were more me than you. I was afraid you'd hit me if I wrote 'good girl.'"

They both laugh a little. Ashlee wants Ryan to draw on her some more, but she's not sure how to ask for that.

"I didn't flinch." She says.

"No. Fingers are not very ticklish." Ryan says, and he's putting the cap back on the eyeliner. If she lets him get up it's all over.

"So draw somewhere that is ticklish." Ryan smiles, like he thinks it might be a joke. "I'll be a good girl." She adds.

She meant it as a joke about the tattoo, but that's not how it sounds at all. Ryan's face turns carefully blank. He stares at her a little longer than is comfortable, and then he picks up the eyeliner.

Ryan pushes her dress up a little until her knees are completely bare. It's still longer than half the hemlines she's worn, but it feel a little indecent. The skin on her thighs breaks out in goosebumps. Ryan puts his hand on her knee, and she wonders if he can feel hundreds of tiny dots rising on her skin. Ryan starts drawing directly on her kneecap. It doesn't tickle any worse than her fingers. Ashlee wonders if Ryan has sensitive knee caps. Do people have individual tickle spots? Ashlee always thought that everyone tickled best on their feet and in their armpits. Most people must. Maybe Ryan was just built wrong, with those long fingers and ticklish kneecaps.

Ashlee tries to focus on what is becoming a flower on her knee. The drag of the pencil becomes so familiar that she doesn't even feel the itch anymore. She closes her eyes, and starts to lean her head back against the mirror when the nerve endings light up all the way down the back of her leg. Ashlee's eyes jump open, and she sees Ryan bending the line of the stem so it swoops to the back of her leg. He stops with the point of the pencil just catching the swell of her thigh. Ashlee feels her breath catch. A tremble starts somewhere deep in her muscles. Ryan closes his free hand around her ankle and lifts her leg up. He lifts until her leg is pulled straight, raised just above his shoulder. She watches his eyes drop, and a second later she shoves her hands into her lap, pushing the fabric of her dress down to cover her underwear. Her mind runs frantic with worry. Was there enough time for Ryan to see anything? What colour underwear is she wearing? Black. Fuck. Could he tell that she's wet?

Ryan doesn't give anything away. His expression stays the same as he drops her ankle on to his shoulder and narrows his concentration back to the flower's stem.

Ashlee lets her breath out slow, trying to will her limbs limp as dead weight. The tremble fades, then returns as soon as the pencil starts to move across the inside of her knee. The feeling is electric and her whole body tightens and releases against the sensation. Her hips and shoulders roll with every tiny surge. Ryan's hand stills and he looks up at her.

"Ticklish?"

She smiles a tight line, knowing she's not going to answer back. Her voice will waiver even worse than her body.

"Want me to keep going?"

Ashlee nods. She wonders if Ryan can read the movements in her body, if he can tell the difference between tickle and lust. Ryan's hand moves, and the stem grows a bud on the smooth expanse of her thigh.

There is a dull clunk from the hall, and they both turn their heads just in time to see Pete throw his weight against the doorway.

"No one interesting is... Is. What the fuck is going on?" Pete's expression goes dark, and he takes a menacing step forward. Ryan's hand freezes.

Ashlee and Ryan both stare. They don't say anything. Pete looks desperately from Ashlee's ankle on Ryan's shoulder, to his hand against her leg.

"You guys are... Is this?" Pete stops again. He looks confused. His hands are fisting, but he's not going to hit anyone. He looks as if he can't figure out who or what to be mad at.

"She's been staying really still." Ryan says, finally.

Pete nods. His hands stop flexing and go limp at his sides. He sits down on the side of the bathtub, and for the first time since he came back he looks Ashlee in the eyes. He doesn't look angry anymore. Ashlee searches his expression, and comes up blank. At least 'not angry' is a start. It's something.

"Five bucks says Ash goes spastic. Anyone?" Pete says.

"Ten. I will fucking not." Ashlee shoots back.

"I'm with Ashlee on this one," Ryan says, and reaches for the pencil sharpener "she's being very good."

Ryan sharpens to a very painful point, and bends his neck to better see what he is doing. He adds leaves and thorns, moving from knee to thigh, and back again. He pulls the skin of Ashlee's leg taunt and starts to draw the stem again. Pete leans closer and Ashlee's not sure which is more uncomfortable, the drawing or Pete's gaze. Ryan's hand brings the stem up her leg, the black line curving in gentle waves. He doesn't move her dress, but pushes his hand under it, drawing blind until he comes to the end. Until he comes to the start of something else. The back of his hand rests against the fabric of her underwear. The heat through thin cotton is delicious and and makes her body hurt with the want. If Ryan could just slip his fingers under the elastic then she would have his warmth right against her, inside her.

Ryan's fingers move the tiniest fraction, and the point leaves the skin of her leg. Ashlee swallows against the tightness of her throat, and the noise seems to startle Ryan into moving his hand out from under her clothing.

Ryan drops his gaze to his hands, sharpens slowly. The noise sounds loud in the bathroom. Pete stands up, and leans over Ryan. He could step to the side, but instead he puts his arms over Ryan's shoulders, caging Ryan and making his frame look slight. Pete takes the hem of Ashlee's dress with both his hands. He starts to make precise folds, bringing the fabric up over her legs. He's watching the length of the stem grow with each uncovered inch. Ashlee puts her palms down on the counter, and pushes her weight up so that the bottom of her dress will continue to fold up. The shift makes her ankle pull against Ryan's shoulder. He moves in forward a little on the one side. He looks up at Pete's hands, then quickly back down at his own. When Pete has her dress out from under her ass, rolled all the way to her waist, he puts his hands firm on her hips. He squeezes there, thumbs against bone, like he does when they are alone.

"OK." Pete says.

He lets go of her, and settles back down on the rim of the tub. He stays leaned in close to Ryan, the grip of his hands falling on Ryan's back. Ashlee watches as his thumbs start to work small circles just under Ryan's neck. Ryan takes a deep breath and brings the pencil back to her leg.

Ashlee lets her head fall back against the mirror. She concentrates on staying still. No way in hell is Pete taking her money. This time the feel of the pencil against her skin is different. There is more pressure, the strokes are shorter. When Ryan's hand stills she asks "What are you writing?"

Ryan doesn't answer, just makes a face. She's sure it's words, not drawings, and she's sure Ryan has some plan. He looks too determined to be scrolling nonsense letters up her leg. Pete's chin bumps where Ryan's shoulder meets his neck, his eyes make a quick sweep over the words. Ryan pulls away when Pete laughs loud right into his ear.

"Asshole." Ryan says.

"You are so predictable." Pete laughs.

Written along the curved line of the stem is 'they take apart their nightmares'

"From the new album?" She asks. Pete's laugh is obnoxious.

"Tom Waits," Ryan says, gentle like he doesn't want to embarrass her, "like my wrists."

Ryan wipes his fingers over a smudge. His fingers feel better than the eyeliner.

"Different song," Ryan adds like an after thought, "I can make you a CD."

Ashlee smiles. Ryan has a way of teaching her things without making her feel stupid. Pete is lucky to have such good friends. She wishes she knew how Pete was as a friend, what he gives in those relationships, and how it's different from what he gives her. She wonders if Ryan is ever like this with Pete, this careful tiny sharing.

The movement of Ryan's fingers turns slow and rhythmic. It's no surprise that Ryan use to work with animals. Under all his rude awkwardness he's got this calm... something. Ashlee wonders if Ryan has ever stroked Pete's skin like this. Sometimes, especially at night, Pete gets wound too tight and Ashlee moves her hands slowslowslow over his arms. So slow he doesn't notice what she's doing, so slow he can't think to fight it, to sabotage that grounding warmth her fingers are working deep into his muscles. Ryan could probably warm Pete into sleep like this.

Ashlee knows she's taking every inhale along to the press of Ryan's fingers. She knows the rise and fall of her chest is moving sleep slow. Pete is going to loose, and she will take her winnings, and curl up soft and warm, and sleep with Ryan's freakishly long fingers moving against her. She can almost imagine them curling into the damp hair between her legs.

"You guys are cheaters." Pete says.

Ashlee's eye open wide. Thankfully, Pete is smiling.

"You can't give her a fucking leg massage and win the tickling bet." Pete's voice is a little rough. His eyes have gone dark, but it's hard to tell if it's lust or jealousy. Things might be better for all of them if she gives a flail. Just a little one, to let them all get out of this situation.

It seems that Ryan is thinking the same thing. He pulls back, putting his hands palm up on the counter.

"You want to take over?" Ryan says, careful and blank. Pete is thrown a little.

"No." he says.

He moves, random, arms swinging, throwing his weight from one foot to the other. He's nervous.

"Just. You need to." He says.

Pete gets close against Ryan's back and reaches over to take his hand. Pete guides Ryan's hand to where Ashlee's leg turns to the curve of her ass.

"Right there. Run your fingers as close as you can without touching her skin." Pete says. He lets go of Ryan's hand.

Ryan does as told, and Ashlee can feel hairs prickle with electric sensation. A giggle starts deep in the pit of her stomach, and she fights it off with images of Pete's smug smile. Her legs and ass tighten, but she doesn't jerk.

"I think at some point this game was exclusive to tickling with the use of eyeliner." Ashlee says. It comes out a little breathless.

Ryan reaches over and rubs his thumb along the top of her underwear. Ashlee shuts up, and Pete takes a large shuddering breath in. Ryan lets his thumb brush under the waistband, down through hair and just barely touching the place she wants it to be.

"Is this OK?" Ryan asks.

Ashlee's not sure who he's talking to.

"God. Just. Ryan, touch me." she says, anyway.

She swings her ankle off of Ryan's shoulder, and pulls both her legs up toward her chest so she can pull her underwear off. She opens her legs again, and runs one hand down between her legs. She pushes two fingers inside, then sweeps her wet fingers over her clit.

"Fuck." Pete says, then "Fuck!" when Ryan grabs her hand and pulls her fingers into his mouth.

His tongue makes a hard sweep down her fingers, then back up between them. He sucks lightly when she pulls them free. Ryan is gasping as soon as she leave his mouth empty. He licks his lips, and they look red and slick. Ryan doesn't waste any time, just pushes his face hard against her and sweeps up so hard her hips buck off the counter.

"Ten bucks." Pete says. Ashlee can't bring herself to argue.

Ryan moves back to push one finger inside her and, Oh God, thank you for Ryan's freakish fingers. Thank you for his ticklish kneecaps, and his fucking talented tongue.

Pete puts one hand on Ashlee's leg. She looks down to see that his other hand is under Ryan's shirt, resting on his lower back. His eyes are so wide he looks like he's seeing magic.

"Hey." Ashlee says.

Pete smiles at her, he's so fucking wrecked he can't even look smug. Ryan pulls back and pushes two more fingers inside, a smooth slide.

"She tastes so good." Pete says, eyes wide at the sight of Ryan's wet face. Ryan presses a quick kiss to Pete's lips, pulls away and smirks. Pete's breath catches, and then he moves in to kiss Ryan deeply, licking into his mouth. Ryan's finger keep moving steady as anything.

Fingers, knees, tongue, ability to multitask.

Pete pulls back gasping, and repeats "So good."

Ryan licks around his fingers, teasing and making Ashlee roll her hips. Just when she's about to tell him she needs more than that his fingers pick up speed, and he starts to lick in earnest. Steady swipes up and over her clit every time his fingers curl inside her. His three fingers are now sliding easily, everything is so wet. Ryan's hand and face feel slick against her skin. She knows she's making noise, high pitched gasps and whines every time she clenches tight around Ryan's fingers, every time her body ratchets up another level of pleasure. The soft roll of excitement, feeling it plateau and then start again. So close. So fucking close.

Ashlee's fingers find Ryan's hair and grip, the muscles running up her leg pull taunt. Her back goes rigid, shoulders pushing back against the mirror, and wait, so close, just wait.

"Oh God!" she yells.

She pulls hard at Ryan's hair, grinding him down hard against her. She's embarrassed for a second, when Ryan makes a noise, but then it registers as a good moan. Her hips buck, and her legs jerk, trying to find something solid, something to steady her. She's gasping and trying to move back, but Ryan keeps licking her through it until she pushes at his head.

"Ok. Yeah. Jesus. Fuck." and then she's laughing and trying to catch her breath.

"Does that mean it was good?" Ryan asks.

"It means you both owe me money, that's what it means." Pete says.

"Whatever," Ashlee says "I don't care."

"Pete, shut up." Ryan says.

"I'll trade in for blow jobs."

Ryan joins in Ashlee's giggles, and a few moments later Pete starts with his full on donkey laugh.

"You have a goldfish on your face," he says through the laughter, "My life. Wow."