Cliffton Fanfiction: You're Lying
My first fic for the holiday writing meme is complete. Here you go, n3m3sis42. This is the opposite of your original "fanfic NOT about Devin" assignment, haha. Anyway, I hope you enjoy this NSFW Brendan/Devin story!
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The fuck? Why isn't Brendan fucking responding? Dude's in the WeaponsDev building surrounded by SecurityBots. Don't know if he can fucking fight them off. And Calla - the fuck is up with Calla?
I yell over my neurovision implant, “The fuck are you guys doing?”
Don't get a fucking response. Don't like this. Fucking feels wrong. From what Brendan said, they're fucking outnumbered. Can't disable the security bots without my help. Can't fucking help them if they won't fucking talk to me. The fuck?
“Is something the matter?” Kalen asks.
Yeah, something's the matter. “Won't fucking communicate.”
Maybe they fucking can't. What if communications are down? Fuck.
“Hey, Brendan, Calla. Listen to me!” I shout.
Fucking nothing. Not panicking. Can't panic. No fucking way. Will get them out alive. No other fucking option.
“D-devin?” It's Brendan. Voice full of fucking static. But it's him. Fucking relieved.
“Can you hear me?” I ask.
He grunts, “Yeah. Can't - can't hold on much longer. I sent Calla away. She's - broken.”
Sounds like he's in fucking pain.
“You hurt?” I ask.
“Yeah, I'm hurt pretty bad,” he groans. “Laser burns.”
Fuck. Gotta get him out of there.
I say, “Listen, dude, I can help you disable the SecurityBots.”
“How? I don't think I can fight much longer.” Don't like how his voice is fucking strained.
“Just need to shout a code at them. Seven-Seven-Zero-Alpha-Five-Six-Three. Shuts down any WeaponsDev SecurityBots in hearing range.” It better fucking work.
“Seven...seven...zero...alpha...five...six...three,” Brendan says. Do not fucking like how he sounds.
Don't fucking hear anything. What if it didn't work? Had to fucking work. Not letting Brendan be killed. Can't fucking die because of me. Won't happen.
“SecurityBots are still on,” Brendan manages.
Fucking no. Can't breathe. Air's messed up in here. This can't be happening. Not fucking happening like this. No. No way. Brendan's gotta fucking live.
“Wait! They're stopping,” he breathes.
Did I hear that right? Sigh with relief. Can fucking breathe the air now.
I order, “Get that fucking explosive suit off and get out of there so I can detonate it. Don't want you running into anything else that wants to fucking kill you.”
He grunts, “I - don't know if I can make it out. I'm burned everywhere, and I - I can barely move.”
“Don't fucking care, dude. You're getting out of there if I have to come into WeaponsDev myself and carry you out.” Never mind there's no fucking way I could lift someone as big as Brendan.
“No way - could you carry me,” he mutters. Guess he knows it, too.
“Just take off the fucking suit, dude.” Every fucking second matters.
Think I hear him do it.
“I'm - on my way,” Brendan says. Can hear the pain in his voice.
“Tell me when you're outta there,” I order.
Hear nothing for a long time. Brendan's fucking taking forever. Would tell me if he ran into any more trouble, right? Can't stand this fucking waiting. My throat closes up. Maybe the ventilation's wonky. Been meaning to get someone to take a look at it.
The fuck? Where is he?
More fucking waiting. Brendan - he is gonna come out, right?
“I'm out and clear of the building.” It's him. It's fucking him; he made it out alive.
“Great job, buddy,” I say.
Time to detonate my fucking workplace. I activate the suit using the backdoor I programmed into its neural interface. This is gonna be fucking epic.
* * *
Brendan made it back alive, but he's in bad fucking shape. Burned all over. Fucking SecurityBot lasers. Needs a fucking hospital. Can't take him to one, not without a lot of fucking questions.
Hurts to look at him, knowing it's my fault he's that way. I'm no good at taking care of anybody but myself. Not even so good at that. Try to fucking help Brendan anyway. Lucky he's so fucking big, or those lasers would have done a lot fucking worse.
Wes researches burn treatment on the Splinternet. Finds out what we need to make Brendan better. I have to call one of my fucking 'friends' so he can get me the medicine Brendan needs. BurnHeal's fucking expensive. Don't wanna think about what I'm gonna owe the guy who'll get it for me.
At least Brendan seems to be a quick healer once the BurnHeal's on him. Some weeks later, and almost as good as fucking new. Can't see the injuries. Too much.
Sit next to him on the couch one day. Don't fucking like talking, but I say,“I'm sorry, dude.”
“For what?” he asks.
The fuck? He being dense on purpose? “For getting you fucking hurt.”
Brendan looks fucking incredulous. “You're apologizing for that?”
“Hey, dude, even I know how to fucking say sorry, okay?” What? Can fucking apologize as well as anyone else. When I want.
Shakes his head. “That's not what I mean, Devin. I just want to know why you're apologizing for 'getting me hurt' when it's not even your fault.”
The fuck? “Not my fault? Designed that fucking suit's interface myself.”
Gives me a fucking look. “You helped design that suit because we were working to take down WeaponsDev, and we succeeded.”
“And you almost fucking died in the process,” I mutter.
Don't want blood like that on my hands.
Brendan says, “But I didn't die, did I? I knew the risk going in, and I was more than willing.”
Doesn't matter how fucking willing he was, he still almost fucking died. Couldn't fucking live with myself if he had. Don't know if I can live with myself even now. Not after all I've fucking done.
“Are you okay?” he asks.
Am I fucking okay? Don't fucking think so. Would rather not tell him that. “I'm fine, dude.”
Doesn't fucking believe me. “You're not fine. I can tell you're lying.”
“Not lying,” I mutter.
“We're friends, right?” Brendan asks. “Friends aren't supposed to lie to each other.”
Fucking know that. “Dude, I almost got you killed, and you're worried about me?”
Gives me another fucking look. “You're not the one who almost killed me. It was WeaponsDev. Like I said, I knew the risk. We're terrorists, right? Terrorism is, you know, dangerous.”
Got a fucking point there. Don't wanna admit that, though. Look at his arm. Can still see traces of a burn on it. A burn that shouldn't fucking be there.
“What are you looking at?” Brendan wonders.
“Nothing,” I mumble.
He says, “You're the worst liar ever.”
Am fucking not. Fucking hot in here, too. Must be something wrong with the air conditioning. Should fucking do something about that.
Shake my head. “Not a bad liar. That lie was fucking believable.”
He fucking laughs. “So you admit you were lying?”
“Not what I meant, dude,” I say.
“If you say so,” Brendan mutters.
Way too fucking hot in here. Avoid looking Brendan in the eye. Still can't help kinda checking him out. Just to confirm that he's healing well, okay?
Fucking smirks. “Just what are you looking at, Devin?”
My face fucking burns. So not blushing. Don't fucking blush. Turn my face away from Brendan, anyway.
“ Just - wanna make sure you're healing well, okay?” That's it. What else would I fucking look at him for? Don't even fucking like muscles, okay?
Dude keeps smirking. “You know perfectly well that I'm healing fine.”
“Can't fucking hurt to check, can it?” I mutter.
“I suppose not,” he says. “Though I don't think staring at me like that is going to make me heal any faster.”
“Wasn't fucking staring.” Way too fucking hot in here.
"You weren't staring? Is that why you're so red? Because you weren't staring?" he asks.
“Not - not fucking red, dude.” Fucking stammering. Don't know why.
Brendan looks at me. Heart fucking skips a beat. Think I need to eat something because I'm kind of lightheaded. Want to ask him - the fuck is up with that stupid look? Don't have a fucking chance to - he leans in and fucking kisses me.
The fuck? Why'd he do that?
Should push him away. Am about to but - I don't fucking want to? The fuck? Ventilation must be wonky. Gotta be it.
Heart's going fucking wild. Keeps skipping beats and going too fast. Doesn't make any fucking sense. Don't like Brendan that way. Not my fucking type.
Not my type but I pull him down on top of me anyway. Lost my fucking mind.
He tries to deepen the kiss. I let him. Yeah, lost my fucking mind. No other way to explain why I feel a fucking ache between my legs. Why else would I wrap my arms around him and pull him even fucking closer? Fucking illogical. Not like me.
Don't shiver when Brendan starts kissing down my neck. Don't start squirming, either. That heat in my body - just the fucking air conditioning. Or the wonky ventilation. Or both. Fucking need to repair this house. Everything's broken.
Including my fucking brain. I slip a hand under Brendan's shirt. Run it up and down his back, feeling his muscles. Don't even like muscles. Still wanna fucking do this. Still wanna touch Brendan's muscles. The fuck?
Breathing's ragged now. Think I'm already fucking hard. Can tell he's hard. Fucking obvious.
“Want - more,” I gasp.
He stops kissing my neck and fucking smirks. “I can tell.”
My mind's long fucking gone. Don't care anymore. Pull Brendan's shirt over his head. Gotta admit, he looks good, even if he's not my fucking type. He pulls my shirt off, still fucking smirking.
Can barely fucking speak, but I manage to say, “Stop smirking and just fucking kiss me again.”
“I have a better idea.” Dude fucking trails his hand down my chest, sending shivers up my spine. Doesn't stop there. Nope, he undoes my belt and pulls my fucking pants off, exposing me. Still smirking, too.
He takes me in his mouth. Must be fucking hungry or something with how much and how fast he swallows me. Feel that ache get worse. Fucking squirm as he sucks my cock, hard. Dude's fucking enthusiastic. My body flushes. Try to buck my hips, but Brendan grabs them, pressing me into the fucking couch. Dude is strong. Can't move so much now. Makes that ache grow even more fucking powerful.
My eyes meet his. They're fucking glazed with lust. Sure I look the same with how I feel. Pleasure runs through me. Fucking overwhelming. I gasp and moan. Inhuman fucking noises. Know I'm being too loud. Don't care. Want fucking more. Don't know how much longer I'll fucking last.
Not very fucking long. Brendan sucks on me one last time and I come. Fucking hard. Scream as I do. My body fucking shudders with pleasure. Fucking exhausted as I slip out of him.
Don't know how long it takes me to recover. Think it's gotta be a long fucking time because I came so hard. When the fog clears my mind, Brendan's all fucking naked. Fucking impressive body, even if it's not my usual thing. I pull my pants off the rest of the way.
“So do I get to take you now?” he asks. Fucking predatory expression on his face.
“Yeah, you do,” I say.
Fucking pushes me onto my back on the couch. “Do I need lube?”
Too fucking turned on to wait for lube. “I can handle you dry.”
He wrenches my legs apart. Pushes inside me with huge fucking force. I cry out. Fucking hurts. Feels amazing. Dude doesn't like to waste time. Bends my legs back. Bent in fucking half, now.
Brendan pounds me. Hard. The force sends waves of fucking pleasure through me. Want him to go even harder. Want fucking more of this. Need fucking more of this.
“H-harder,” I gasp out. Talking's fucking difficult.
He fucking smirks. “If that's what you want, I'd be happy to.”
Brendan makes good on his fucking promise. Slams me. It's fucking bliss.
Almost too much fucking bliss. With the way he's going, don't think I'll last much longer. I'm fucking loud. Gasping and moaning. Brendan's face is fucking filled with lust. Got his eyes closed as he pushes me closer and closer to the edge.
Close my own fucking eyes just as I come. White light explodes behind them. My body fucking shakes with pleasure. Fucking unbelievable. Brendan pounds me one last time. Then he comes. Can fucking feel him do it.
See his smile as he slips out of me. Can't help fucking smiling back. Too exhausted to move even as he lets me go.
He says, “Are you feeling better now?”
All I can do to fucking nod.
Dude fucking smirks again. “I don't think you're lying this time.”
Reality fucking hits. “Don't fucking tell anyone. That goes double for Wes, okay?”
“Don't worry. I won't tell as long as you don't tell,” he murmurs.
I won't tell on him, and he won't tell on me. Fucking ideal arrangement. Don't want anybody to fucking find out, no matter how fucking amazing it was.
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The fuck? Why isn't Brendan fucking responding? Dude's in the WeaponsDev building surrounded by SecurityBots. Don't know if he can fucking fight them off. And Calla - the fuck is up with Calla?
I yell over my neurovision implant, “The fuck are you guys doing?”
Don't get a fucking response. Don't like this. Fucking feels wrong. From what Brendan said, they're fucking outnumbered. Can't disable the security bots without my help. Can't fucking help them if they won't fucking talk to me. The fuck?
“Is something the matter?” Kalen asks.
Yeah, something's the matter. “Won't fucking communicate.”
Maybe they fucking can't. What if communications are down? Fuck.
“Hey, Brendan, Calla. Listen to me!” I shout.
Fucking nothing. Not panicking. Can't panic. No fucking way. Will get them out alive. No other fucking option.
“D-devin?” It's Brendan. Voice full of fucking static. But it's him. Fucking relieved.
“Can you hear me?” I ask.
He grunts, “Yeah. Can't - can't hold on much longer. I sent Calla away. She's - broken.”
Sounds like he's in fucking pain.
“You hurt?” I ask.
“Yeah, I'm hurt pretty bad,” he groans. “Laser burns.”
Fuck. Gotta get him out of there.
I say, “Listen, dude, I can help you disable the SecurityBots.”
“How? I don't think I can fight much longer.” Don't like how his voice is fucking strained.
“Just need to shout a code at them. Seven-Seven-Zero-Alpha-Five-Six-Three. Shuts down any WeaponsDev SecurityBots in hearing range.” It better fucking work.
“Seven...seven...zero...alpha...five...six...three,” Brendan says. Do not fucking like how he sounds.
Don't fucking hear anything. What if it didn't work? Had to fucking work. Not letting Brendan be killed. Can't fucking die because of me. Won't happen.
“SecurityBots are still on,” Brendan manages.
Fucking no. Can't breathe. Air's messed up in here. This can't be happening. Not fucking happening like this. No. No way. Brendan's gotta fucking live.
“Wait! They're stopping,” he breathes.
Did I hear that right? Sigh with relief. Can fucking breathe the air now.
I order, “Get that fucking explosive suit off and get out of there so I can detonate it. Don't want you running into anything else that wants to fucking kill you.”
He grunts, “I - don't know if I can make it out. I'm burned everywhere, and I - I can barely move.”
“Don't fucking care, dude. You're getting out of there if I have to come into WeaponsDev myself and carry you out.” Never mind there's no fucking way I could lift someone as big as Brendan.
“No way - could you carry me,” he mutters. Guess he knows it, too.
“Just take off the fucking suit, dude.” Every fucking second matters.
Think I hear him do it.
“I'm - on my way,” Brendan says. Can hear the pain in his voice.
“Tell me when you're outta there,” I order.
Hear nothing for a long time. Brendan's fucking taking forever. Would tell me if he ran into any more trouble, right? Can't stand this fucking waiting. My throat closes up. Maybe the ventilation's wonky. Been meaning to get someone to take a look at it.
The fuck? Where is he?
More fucking waiting. Brendan - he is gonna come out, right?
“I'm out and clear of the building.” It's him. It's fucking him; he made it out alive.
“Great job, buddy,” I say.
Time to detonate my fucking workplace. I activate the suit using the backdoor I programmed into its neural interface. This is gonna be fucking epic.
* * *
Brendan made it back alive, but he's in bad fucking shape. Burned all over. Fucking SecurityBot lasers. Needs a fucking hospital. Can't take him to one, not without a lot of fucking questions.
Hurts to look at him, knowing it's my fault he's that way. I'm no good at taking care of anybody but myself. Not even so good at that. Try to fucking help Brendan anyway. Lucky he's so fucking big, or those lasers would have done a lot fucking worse.
Wes researches burn treatment on the Splinternet. Finds out what we need to make Brendan better. I have to call one of my fucking 'friends' so he can get me the medicine Brendan needs. BurnHeal's fucking expensive. Don't wanna think about what I'm gonna owe the guy who'll get it for me.
At least Brendan seems to be a quick healer once the BurnHeal's on him. Some weeks later, and almost as good as fucking new. Can't see the injuries. Too much.
Sit next to him on the couch one day. Don't fucking like talking, but I say,“I'm sorry, dude.”
“For what?” he asks.
The fuck? He being dense on purpose? “For getting you fucking hurt.”
Brendan looks fucking incredulous. “You're apologizing for that?”
“Hey, dude, even I know how to fucking say sorry, okay?” What? Can fucking apologize as well as anyone else. When I want.
Shakes his head. “That's not what I mean, Devin. I just want to know why you're apologizing for 'getting me hurt' when it's not even your fault.”
The fuck? “Not my fault? Designed that fucking suit's interface myself.”
Gives me a fucking look. “You helped design that suit because we were working to take down WeaponsDev, and we succeeded.”
“And you almost fucking died in the process,” I mutter.
Don't want blood like that on my hands.
Brendan says, “But I didn't die, did I? I knew the risk going in, and I was more than willing.”
Doesn't matter how fucking willing he was, he still almost fucking died. Couldn't fucking live with myself if he had. Don't know if I can live with myself even now. Not after all I've fucking done.
“Are you okay?” he asks.
Am I fucking okay? Don't fucking think so. Would rather not tell him that. “I'm fine, dude.”
Doesn't fucking believe me. “You're not fine. I can tell you're lying.”
“Not lying,” I mutter.
“We're friends, right?” Brendan asks. “Friends aren't supposed to lie to each other.”
Fucking know that. “Dude, I almost got you killed, and you're worried about me?”
Gives me another fucking look. “You're not the one who almost killed me. It was WeaponsDev. Like I said, I knew the risk. We're terrorists, right? Terrorism is, you know, dangerous.”
Got a fucking point there. Don't wanna admit that, though. Look at his arm. Can still see traces of a burn on it. A burn that shouldn't fucking be there.
“What are you looking at?” Brendan wonders.
“Nothing,” I mumble.
He says, “You're the worst liar ever.”
Am fucking not. Fucking hot in here, too. Must be something wrong with the air conditioning. Should fucking do something about that.
Shake my head. “Not a bad liar. That lie was fucking believable.”
He fucking laughs. “So you admit you were lying?”
“Not what I meant, dude,” I say.
“If you say so,” Brendan mutters.
Way too fucking hot in here. Avoid looking Brendan in the eye. Still can't help kinda checking him out. Just to confirm that he's healing well, okay?
Fucking smirks. “Just what are you looking at, Devin?”
My face fucking burns. So not blushing. Don't fucking blush. Turn my face away from Brendan, anyway.
“ Just - wanna make sure you're healing well, okay?” That's it. What else would I fucking look at him for? Don't even fucking like muscles, okay?
Dude keeps smirking. “You know perfectly well that I'm healing fine.”
“Can't fucking hurt to check, can it?” I mutter.
“I suppose not,” he says. “Though I don't think staring at me like that is going to make me heal any faster.”
“Wasn't fucking staring.” Way too fucking hot in here.
"You weren't staring? Is that why you're so red? Because you weren't staring?" he asks.
“Not - not fucking red, dude.” Fucking stammering. Don't know why.
Brendan looks at me. Heart fucking skips a beat. Think I need to eat something because I'm kind of lightheaded. Want to ask him - the fuck is up with that stupid look? Don't have a fucking chance to - he leans in and fucking kisses me.
The fuck? Why'd he do that?
Should push him away. Am about to but - I don't fucking want to? The fuck? Ventilation must be wonky. Gotta be it.
Heart's going fucking wild. Keeps skipping beats and going too fast. Doesn't make any fucking sense. Don't like Brendan that way. Not my fucking type.
Not my type but I pull him down on top of me anyway. Lost my fucking mind.
He tries to deepen the kiss. I let him. Yeah, lost my fucking mind. No other way to explain why I feel a fucking ache between my legs. Why else would I wrap my arms around him and pull him even fucking closer? Fucking illogical. Not like me.
Don't shiver when Brendan starts kissing down my neck. Don't start squirming, either. That heat in my body - just the fucking air conditioning. Or the wonky ventilation. Or both. Fucking need to repair this house. Everything's broken.
Including my fucking brain. I slip a hand under Brendan's shirt. Run it up and down his back, feeling his muscles. Don't even like muscles. Still wanna fucking do this. Still wanna touch Brendan's muscles. The fuck?
Breathing's ragged now. Think I'm already fucking hard. Can tell he's hard. Fucking obvious.
“Want - more,” I gasp.
He stops kissing my neck and fucking smirks. “I can tell.”
My mind's long fucking gone. Don't care anymore. Pull Brendan's shirt over his head. Gotta admit, he looks good, even if he's not my fucking type. He pulls my shirt off, still fucking smirking.
Can barely fucking speak, but I manage to say, “Stop smirking and just fucking kiss me again.”
“I have a better idea.” Dude fucking trails his hand down my chest, sending shivers up my spine. Doesn't stop there. Nope, he undoes my belt and pulls my fucking pants off, exposing me. Still smirking, too.
He takes me in his mouth. Must be fucking hungry or something with how much and how fast he swallows me. Feel that ache get worse. Fucking squirm as he sucks my cock, hard. Dude's fucking enthusiastic. My body flushes. Try to buck my hips, but Brendan grabs them, pressing me into the fucking couch. Dude is strong. Can't move so much now. Makes that ache grow even more fucking powerful.
My eyes meet his. They're fucking glazed with lust. Sure I look the same with how I feel. Pleasure runs through me. Fucking overwhelming. I gasp and moan. Inhuman fucking noises. Know I'm being too loud. Don't care. Want fucking more. Don't know how much longer I'll fucking last.
Not very fucking long. Brendan sucks on me one last time and I come. Fucking hard. Scream as I do. My body fucking shudders with pleasure. Fucking exhausted as I slip out of him.
Don't know how long it takes me to recover. Think it's gotta be a long fucking time because I came so hard. When the fog clears my mind, Brendan's all fucking naked. Fucking impressive body, even if it's not my usual thing. I pull my pants off the rest of the way.
“So do I get to take you now?” he asks. Fucking predatory expression on his face.
“Yeah, you do,” I say.
Fucking pushes me onto my back on the couch. “Do I need lube?”
Too fucking turned on to wait for lube. “I can handle you dry.”
He wrenches my legs apart. Pushes inside me with huge fucking force. I cry out. Fucking hurts. Feels amazing. Dude doesn't like to waste time. Bends my legs back. Bent in fucking half, now.
Brendan pounds me. Hard. The force sends waves of fucking pleasure through me. Want him to go even harder. Want fucking more of this. Need fucking more of this.
“H-harder,” I gasp out. Talking's fucking difficult.
He fucking smirks. “If that's what you want, I'd be happy to.”
Brendan makes good on his fucking promise. Slams me. It's fucking bliss.
Almost too much fucking bliss. With the way he's going, don't think I'll last much longer. I'm fucking loud. Gasping and moaning. Brendan's face is fucking filled with lust. Got his eyes closed as he pushes me closer and closer to the edge.
Close my own fucking eyes just as I come. White light explodes behind them. My body fucking shakes with pleasure. Fucking unbelievable. Brendan pounds me one last time. Then he comes. Can fucking feel him do it.
See his smile as he slips out of me. Can't help fucking smiling back. Too exhausted to move even as he lets me go.
He says, “Are you feeling better now?”
All I can do to fucking nod.
Dude fucking smirks again. “I don't think you're lying this time.”
Reality fucking hits. “Don't fucking tell anyone. That goes double for Wes, okay?”
“Don't worry. I won't tell as long as you don't tell,” he murmurs.
I won't tell on him, and he won't tell on me. Fucking ideal arrangement. Don't want anybody to fucking find out, no matter how fucking amazing it was.