Rating: this section goes up to NC-17
Summary: What happens when Imp finds a rose vest
Authors' Notes: Crossover between Discworld's Soul Music characters, and taking inspiration from Hogfather and a few others, with Panic! At the Disco
Disclaimer: I don't own Pratchett's amazing Discworld characters, I'm taking a lot of creative license with them and with the Panic! boys, who I also don't own. And this is my first attempt at writing a slash/crackfic story of any kind, so I'd love constructive feedback.
Part One can be found here: http://community.livejournal.com/fahren
Susan had no intention of throwing any undergarments at anyone, for any reason. It just wasn’t in her nature. So she was very cross when her undergarments seemed to fly out of her hand of their own accord, landing in Imp’s rather startled face.
“Hi,” he mumbled, pulling the garment from his head, and held them out shakily between thumb and forefinger.
She snatched them from his grasp. “You startled me.” She took a closer look at Imp. There was something not quite right about him. He moved like he wasn’t very comfortable in his own body.
“Sorry.” He stared at the floor, scuffing his toe against the side of his foot.
She stared at him. He looked up. He stared back. Finally, she resumed doing her laundry.
Ryan found himself fidgeting like Brendon after three Red Bulls. There was something about this girl that was out of the ordinary. Not like, unusual in the way that she dressed or anything, because in some ways, she’d fit right in with all the scene girls that showed up at his shows. But she didn’t giggle. Or shriek. And she wasn’t begging for his autograph. Or... other things. The underwear thing, that was awkward. But that was an accident. Just. They were very sensible underwear, even if they were black and lacy. She just carried herself differently, that was it. And the hair. She had great hair. Ryan had a weakness for blondes. And that voice whispered to him that Imp had a thing for this blonde, even with the streak of black running through it. That streak was like the underwear, at complete crossroads to the rest of her demeanour. Ryan was intrigued.
She cocked her head to the side, like she was hearing something. And then her eyes focused on him, narrowed. She grabbed his hand. “Oh,” she said.
Ryan wondered just what it was he was doing here.
“So Ryan. What have you done with Imp?”
Imp was having a very nice dream in which Susan and Brendon were vying for his attention while Ryan looked on, pouting slightly.
“Ryan. Ryan!” Brendon kept saying, and then Imp woke up to see Brendon leaning very close over him. He was shaking him roughly. “Wake up.”
Imp woke up and nearly groaned, seeing Brendon with nothing but a towel wrapped loosely around his hips.
“I was dreaming,” Imp said.
“Evidently. Who is Susan?” Brendon asked, smiling.
“Wh-what?” Imp asked.
“Susan. You called her name. She must be hot to have you worked up like that,” Brendon said. He glanced pointedly at Imps (or rather, Ryan’s) trousers, which were noticeably snug. Snugger than usual, at any rate.
“Oh, she’s just this girl,” Imp mumbled, blushing. “I need a shower.”
“Yeah, better make it a cold one,” Brendon called after him.
Ryan’s body was used to showers, but for Imp it was a rather new experience. Thankfully, Ryan’s body, or maybe it was that strange voice whispering in his ear, told him what to do and the hot water streamed down his back. Maybe Imp would write a song about the beauty of showers. This was nothing like the rain in Llamedos.
He was distracted though, by the body he found himself inhabiting. He let his fingers run over it, inspecting every inch of the flesh. He was about the same size as Imp, maybe a touch taller, a little bit less flesh in the backside, but otherwise, they were of a size. Still, there was a certain difference in the way this body responded that Imp couldn’t get used to. It was like... it was... well, he didn’t know. Imp looked down. Now that was a view he wasn’t used to. There was something... missing. He blushed violently. There was no...this boy was... Ryan had no foreskin!
He couldn’t help but to touch it. And felt the immediate flush of pleasure as hands and the stream of water coursed over it. It was very sensitive. He touched it again, applying a different bit of pressure. Oh yes, there. He stroked it. It was rather impressive, and seemed, to Imp’s mind, now that he explored it more, rather tidy. But how strange.
He felt a moment of guilt, that this wasn’t his body. He didn’t know if the real Ryan would approve of this use of... but wait, what if he (Imp) was trapped here for the rest of his life? Well, he would have to cater to this body’s functions, right? And well... this was a necessary function, right? It wasn’t like he was taking advantage of Brendon in Ryan’s body. And at the thought of Brendon and of Ryan’s body with Brendon, he felt another wave of pleasure tingling in his parts. He couldn’t quite seem to stop this hand from moving anyway, up and down, finding a particular stroke that made him moan and his knees want to buckle. He leaned against the tiles of the stall, eyes closed.
He felt the build-up, and the come shot out, just as the shower curtain was pulled back. His eyes flew open to see Brendon staring at him with a cross between amusement and horror on his face, and a string of cum dripping from his belly.
Brendon looked down at his own stomach, and then shrugged, slipping the towel from his hips and stepping under the stream of water. “Didn’t see that one coming,” he said casually.
Imp couldn’t move, his face burning. “Sorry,” he muttered. He tried to move away from the other boy, but Brendon was blocking the doorway.
“I don’t know what’s gotten into you tonight,” Brendon said casually, like Ryan hadn’t just ejaculated on him. He stroked soapy hands over his own body, and then casually, hand on his shoulder, spun Ryan around, facing away from him and began washing his back. Imp shut his eyes, or rather, Ryan’s eyes, and tried to concentrate on anything, thinking about getting hit in the head by Lias’ hammer, of Glod in a dress, of Nobby, of anything to keep from showing how exciting this was for him. Brendon’s hand slid down precariously on his back, brushing against the top of his arse.
“And then tonight, that kiss on stage, too,” Brendon continued. “And did you know, it just wasn’t Susan’s name you were calling out in the dream. I don’t know what’s up... but I gotta say, I kinda like it.”
Imp’s breath hitched, and seemed to stop altogether when the hand that was soaping him up slid around his waist and pulled him back against the other boy. He could feel Brendon’s chest pressed against his back, and his...
Imp whimpered as Brendon’s lips nipped the skin on his neck.
“Ryan? Is this what you want?”
And Imp could only squeak, and nod once, before all thought stopped because Brendon’s hand was on his dick.
Ryan stared at Susan, mouth agape.
“Did you just call me Ryan?” he asked. “How--I mean, you-- how do--”
“Long story,” she said, grabbing his hand.
“Where are we going?” he asked as she tugged him, striding purposefully and quickly out the door, and down the street.
“The wizards. Hopefully they’ll be able to do something.”
“But wait, you recognise me for who I am, right? So how did I get here?”
She stopped, staring at him impatiently. “You don’t know?”
“No,” he said rather desperately.
Susan’s hair lifted and rearranged itself. He stared. “How does it do that?”
She shrugged impatiently, and Concentrated. Lowering her hands to about shoulder height, time stopped. Duration continued.
“Come on,” she said impatiently, dragging him through the street, where everything else had stopped.
“How...how did you do that?” Ryan asked.
“I’m Death’s granddaughter. It’s genetics,” she said.
Ryan, against all his better judgement, decided to take the girl at her word. Besides, they were hurrying past people and carts, all frozen in the positions they were in when she had frozen time. They ducked under the arm of man holding a fish. Ryan chanced a glance back over his shoulder. The man was swinging the fish at a troll, actually. Ryan winced. That was a very bad idea.
“I bet that’s awfully convenient of your hair to just style itself,” Ryan said, trying to make conversation. “I have to use lots of product, and get my hair cut by a stylist, and...” he trailed off as Susan gave his hair an impatient-- and slightly derisive-- look.
“Well, I mean, when I’m in my body, not in Imp’s,” he said.
“So wait... if you’re grandfather is death, do you mean the Grim Reaper? The real Grim Reaper? He’s real?”
Susan nodded shortly. “We don’t have time for this.”
“But... well, does that mean that Santa Claus is real?”
Susan sighed. “Whatever Santa Claus is, in your world, if people believe in him, then he is real.”
“How does that work?” Ryan asked.
“It’s a personification of belief. Humans give abstract principles form, identity, so they take on that personification. Now just shut up and come on!”
“Do you like me? I mean, Imp?” Ryan asked, ignoring her impatience for a moment.
“I... maybe, I don’t know.” She frowned and her eyebrows drew together. “Why?”
“Well...it’s just that your dress, it’s...well,” Ryan gestured toward her cleavage and blushed. Susan looked down and blushed as well. “Nevermind.”
“Because, well... I mean, the thing is, Imp really likes you.”
She stopped. “Imp? Or you? Are you trying to get into my knickers?”
“No, not me, but I mean, I know the things that Imp knew, and...things. Just. And he likes you. Wherever he is. Do you think he’s in my body?”
“More than likely,” Susan said. She was noticeably pink now. “He’s not very practical.”
“Well, this isn’t exactly a practical place, is it?”
Ryan muttered something, and turned pink. Susan wasn’t quite sure she’d heard it right, but she didn’t ask him to repeat it, because she was afraid he’d said something like, “And you have very nice knickers.”
Imp didn’t know how he found himself-- or rather, Ryan’s body with him trapped in it-- bent over the bed, arching his back in pleasure and moaning as Brendon thrust inside him. But he wasn’t questioning it. He hoped that Ryan wouldn’t be mad, wherever he was. Maybe this was what Ryan really wanted? he reasoned before Brendon hit that spot, that particular spot, and Imp forgot to think about Ryan anymore.
Ryan stared through Imp’s eyes up at the tower of the Unseen University as Susan tugged his hand. He liked holding her hand, it was warm and pleasant, and reminded him a bit, strangely, of Brendon’s. He wondered if Brendon and Spencer and Jon would like Susan. Or this place. It had a certain flair of the carnivalesque about it.
Susan didn’t bother opening the door, but walked through it, dragging Ryan with her. He banged against the door, and her hand slipped out of his.
He stepped back and stared at the door. She opened it from the inside, sighing. “Sorry.”
“You can walk through doors without opening them?”
“I can get inside anywhere,” Susan informed him. It only sounded a tiny bit like bragging.
“Well, I am Death’s granddaughter. Family trait,” she said.
“Oh, right. Because Death can go anywhere,” Ryan said. “You know, if things don’t work out with you and Imp, you should come to New Jersey. Gerard would love you.”
“Hmmph,” Susan said. “Given that we don’t know how to get you back, how would I get there?”
“You can walk through walls, walking through other worlds should be a piece of cake, don’t you think?”
“That’s very rational,” she observed, and Ryan thought he heard the slightest bit of approval in her voice.
“That’s me. Poise and Rationality.”
“Poisoned rationality?” she asked, but he had no time to correct her, for there were wizards coming to meet them. And an orang-utan, shouting “Oook!”
In the end, the explanation was fairly straightforward. Ponder asked him to tell some strange device made up of many tubes and animals, the last thing he was doing before he found himself in Discworld. He explained about missing the rose vest. He described it. The quill on the machine drew it, and soon Mrs. Whitlow had sewn up a passable copy of it, though the roses on it, were in fact, recently plucked from the grounds around the Unseen university, and the colour it seemed just slightly off, somehow.
“Well lad, put it on.”
“So I just put it on, and then what?” Ryan asked.
The wizards looked at each other. He heard Susan sigh, next to him. The librarian said softly, “oook.”
Ryan put the vest on. He buttoned it up. The fit was a little loose, and Mrs. Whitlow came forward, pins sticking out between her teeth. Her ample bosom quite terrified him. He glanced at Susan as she tailored the vest while he was still wearing it. She stepped back.
“So is there some kind of chant or something?” he asked.
“A chant for what?” Brendon asked him. Ryan realised he was lying in bed. Naked, and with someone’s arms around him. He turned his head. Brendon lay there, and he had his arm thrown over Ryan’s chest. He was also naked.
“Um...” Ryan said, at a loss. Suddenly he jumped up and ran over to the mirror hanging over a dresser, studying his face. He touched his face, and then, feeling a slight soreness, he touched his butt gingerly.
“Wow, Ryan, I never knew,” Brendon smirked from his position on the bed. He sat up slightly, leaning on his elbows. “So you going to tell me who Susan is?”
Ryan felt the voice he’d heard so many times in the past day whispering, filling him in on what happened in his body while he was out. He blushed, but couldn’t quite help grinning when Brendon did. Brendon’s grin was contagious.
“You were in quite a mood last night, Ry. I never knew you were so naughty.”
Ryan laughed. “It was a wild night, for both of us.”
“Yes, it was. You were in an impish mood.”
And Ryan had a moment of panic that Brendon knew everything before he relaxed. “You have no idea.”
Imp found himself surrounded by wizards, Susan by his side. They were staring at him expectantly. He exchanged glances with Susan. “Um, how did I...?”
And she smiled, blushing slightly. “Welcome back, Imp.”
The Dean looked confused as the rest of the Wizards drifted off, arguing. “But what happened to the vest?”
No one knew what happened to the vest. Either of them. Ryan never found his, and in fact, everyone was happy to see the last of it. Imp returned back to his bandmates, lips still burning from the kiss Susan had very impractically laid upon him just before she quickly walked away, muttering about laundry. Glod and Lias were waiting for him, holding a towel, and a piano respectively.
“Let’s get to work,” Imp told them. “I have a few ideas.”