Need You Wild 1/12

[allfourinches]

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-

As far as cabins doubling as werewolf hideaways go, the one Ryan settles on is pretty badass. Spencer had been understandably nervous that they'd be spending a few months in a lego-sized hole with no heat, but luckily Ryan's idea of a cabin includes a built-in studio and practice space, 40-foot ceilings, and a game room with a TV so big Brendon had slept there the first night. Ryan hadn't thought to get a cabin with four rooms or anything, though, so Spencer sucks it up and shares with Brendon to avoid sleeping in the closet-sized "guest room" with no windows. Spencer has definitely made worse sacrifices in the name of Ryan's whims, though, so he can't really complain.

All in all, it's pretty awesome, even if they haven't exactly gotten around to any actual recording. For the most part, Jon and Ryan just smoke up on the roof while Brendon tries to beat his personal best at Guitar Hero. Spencer spends his time trying to avoid the urge to stick his head out of the giant cabin windows and breathe in deep. It isn't his fault. He's still adjusting to his new crazy werewolf senses (Jon likes to laugh at him and talk about "werewolf puberty") and Ryan brought them to the middle of the woods. There are all these smells, trees and dirt and animals everywhere, and sometimes it makes Spencer's nose twitch. That's probably the hardest thing to adjust to, after his brand new taste buds. Food tastes different and smells so much stronger, and Spencer's eating a lot more of it. Like, a lot. Enough that Brendon has time to make just about every meat joke in existence.

It would be cool having fun new super senses - kind of like being a super hero - if Spencer had anything to do with them. He has night vision, which is pretty badass, except for how he only uses it when he goes into the kitchen at night to get some Pringles and can't be bothered to turn on the light. His hearing is a lot more sensitive too, which is great for when Spencer wants to eavesdrop or beat someone to the bathroom - and, occasionally, text Ryan to tell him how off-key he sounds while he messes around in the studio - but not so great when Spencer wants to sleep in and the birds outside his window won't shut the fuck up. He can also grow a pretty badass beard the week or so before the moon, but Spencer's pretty sure that doesn't actually count as a super power. It is kind of fun to shave and watch the hair grown back a few seconds later, though.

Spencer doesn't really notice any huge downsides to his cool new werewolf super senses until they've been at the cabin for a week or so. Up until then it's all fun and games - pointing out rabbits when they go hiking, being able to tell Brendon he's using too much paprika in the chili from three rooms away, making fun of Ryan for jerking off in the middle of the day in a communal downstairs bathroom. It had honestly taken him a few minutes to realize that, hey, holy shit, he can smell when Ryan jerked off. Not just Ryan, though, of course not - he can smell Jon from three rooms away and Brendon, well, that's where shit gets kind of awkward. As bad as it is when he can smell Ryan jerking off from down the hall, it's almost unbearable when he's sharing a room with Brendon, living on top of him.

It's like he can't get away from Brendon's scent. He knows when Brendon jerks off, and he knows when Brendon wants to jerk off, and he knows when Brendon has a particularly pleasant dream. Spencer thinks it's starting to drive him a little crazy, because he's starting to like it. Spencer has spent the past few years very pointedly not liking anything about Brendon. It was easier then to just completely ignore his weird crush thing, writing it off as a mistake waiting to happen, but now it's impossible to pretend he's not attracted to Brendon. Things have progressed way too quickly from weird and annoying to really, really hot and annoying, and it's starting to disrupt Spencer's very important schedule of lazing around and doing nothing. Or, as they like to call it in the cabin, "writing an album."

-

Spencer is thoroughly enjoying his afternoon. So far he's slept in until 2pm and eaten Doritos for breakfast, and he's currently sitting on the couch, watching The Office. It's a funny fucking episode, too, but when Brendon wanders over and curls up next to him, Spencer's attention wavers.

Brendon leans into Spencer, a small grin that Spencer can see out of the corner of his eye playing at Brendon's lips. Spencer can't focus on anything but how warm Brendon is where his body touches Spencer's, his legs tucked up underneath him on the couch and his head heavy on Spencer's shoulder.

"Did you just wake up?" Spencer asks, clearing his throat when the words come out hoarse, lower than Spencer expects them to.

"Hmmm, sort of," Brendon replies quietly, leaning closer to Spencer. Spencer can see the way Brendon's toes curl, and as Spencer turns his head back to the television, he catches the familiar scent. It's warm and sweet and a little musky, and Spencer's far too aware that it's the way Brendon smells when he's just jerked off. Spencer leans in, moving his face close to Brendon's neck and breathing in deep before he even thinks about what he's doing.

Spencer goes stiff, hoping Brendon doesn't notice. He knows this is pretty creepy and generally not okay, he does, but he can't seem to stop himself. He presses his face closer to Brendon's neck, feeling the heat from Brendon's flushed skin and breathing in that smell, warm and strangely familiar, going straight to Spencer's gut.

"Hey, what's up?" Brendon asks suddenly, laughing nervously.

Spencer jerks away from Brendon like he's been burned, blushing and praying Brendon doesn't notice.

"What? Nothing," he says, clearing his throat and trying to shift away from Brendon.

"Okay?" Brendon says hesitantly, and when he shifts to lean back in against Spencer's side, Spencer is hit with that smell again, and he can't-- he just can't do this. Spencer jumps up from the couch, wincing when Brendon yelps a little and falls sideways onto the sofa.

"I've seen this one," Spencer says in a rush, turning on his heel and heading for the stairs. He slams the door to their room and waits about ten seconds, listening for the television to go quiet or for footsteps coming up the stairs. He waits until he's sure Brendon's not behind him to collapse on his bed, groaning half in frustration and half in relief as he slides his hand into his sweatpants.

"Fuck everything," Spencer says between clenched teeth, wrapping his fingers around his cock and jerking hard. Being able to smell that Brendon's just jerked off has made Spencer uncomfortable in the past, but it's never been like this. It's never been this intense, turning him on so much his chest goes tight and his cock throbs just thinking about it, about the sweet smell of Brendon's arousal. Spencer pretends he's thinking about how much he hates being a werewolf and not about Brendon on the bed next to him, jerking off, when he comes with whine a few strokes later, wet over his hand.

It's not like Spencer is entirely to blame for all this, anyway, he rationalizes as he pants heavily. It's probably just a result of living with Brendon, sleeping in the same room, being around him all the time. But even in his head it sounds like a weak excuse. It's not like he's never thought about it before, never looked at Brendon and had that sudden feeling of yes, but before all this fucking werewolf business Spencer was much, much better at controlling it.

Spencer groans and reaches for a dirty t-shirt from the floor to wipe off with, and it's not until he goes to wipe himself off that he realizes his cock is sort of refusing to go soft like it normally does after an orgasm. "Um," Spencer says, squeezing at his cock, and where he'd normally be oversensitive by now, it just feels good, like he didn't even come yet. "Fucking seriously?" Spencer groans to himself. Spencer pumps his fist up and down his cock, just to be sure, but there's no doubt about the way the heat is still there, low in his stomach.

"What the fuck," Spencer says to himself, still moving his hand. He thought he was done discovering new side effects of the whole werewolf thing after the first few weeks, so why the fuck did it take so long for this one to show up? The only thing that's changed is-- oh fuck. Fucking Brendon and his fucking scent and Spencer's apparent never ending boner. Spencer keeps stroking over his cock, and maybe it's not so bad, maybe it just takes two orgasms to satisfy him now, like how he's eating three times as much as he used to. Spencer starts to jerk off again in earnest, fast and rough, and by the time he comes over his hand again and still feels the need for more, he realizes that he's fucked. Spencer rubs at his cock idly while wondering if he could get away with locking himself in his room and jerking off all the time like he did when he first started masturbating, but oh, right. He shares this room with Brendon, so probably not. Brendon, who he apparently has both a figurative and literal never-ending boner for. Awesome.

Spencer lies back on his bed with a sigh, his wet hand still wrapped around his dick, which is still completely hard. He's considering going for round three just to see if he can, like, tire out his own dick or something, when he smells the first burger hit the grill. In all the fun and excitement of never-ending hard-ons, he'd totally forgotten Jon was barbecuing tonight, and Spencer can actually feel his nose twitch as he breathes in.

Spencer shuffles to the bathroom with his sweatpants around his knees and washes off properly, scrubbing his hands with soap and wiping down his cock with a cold washcloth in the futile hope that it might discourage his dick. Spencer's life is not that easy, though, so he sighs and tucks his cock under the waistband of his sweatpants, bounding down the stairs and out the back door to the deck, narrowly beating Ryan.

"Uh uh, me first," he says, elbowing Ryan in the ribs.

"Dude. Dude," Jon says. "They're not even done yet."

"Whatever," Spencer says. "Me first." He can't exactly say, "I just had two orgasms in a row and I'm hungry, okay?" but luckily Jon just rolls his eyes and Ryan grumbles and flicks him in the ear, going to collapse down on a lounge chair. There's no sign of Brendon, and Spencer can't tell if he's relieved or disappointed. He sniffs the air, but he mostly just smells the meat and the fire.

Brendon walks outside, rubbing at his eyes sleepily, after Jon yells his name in the general direction of the house once the burgers are done. His hair's sticking up on one side and his sweatpants are hanging low on his hips and Spencer breathes in deep without meaning to, getting hit with a wave of Brendon's scent, stronger than usual and now tinged with sweat from sleep.

"Boring episode?" Spencer asks, and Brendon looks over at Spencer like he didn't realize he was standing there at first.

"Maybe. You tell me." Brendon's voice is rough with sleep and Spencer mumbles something about buns and flees to the kitchen. He doesn't know why he keeps doing this, because Brendon has to realize something's up. Not that Spencer can ever, ever let Brendon know just how up that something is.

Thankfully, Brendon seems to take the hint and doesn't follow Spencer inside. Spencer gets out some plates and the pack of hamburger buns, tossing them on the table as he goes back for ketchup and mustard.

"Food is served," Jon says, walking back into the house from the patio. Brendon and Ryan trail behind him, arguing about something or another. "Spence, yours are the undercooked ones."

"Thanks," Spencer says a little sheepishly as he settles down at the table.

Jon sits across from him, reaching for the buns, and says, "No problem, my furry friend."

"I think you're confusing me with Pete," Spencer mumbles, grabbing two of the rarest looking patties, and Brendon laughs loudly as he sits down next to Spencer. Spencer has to take a moment to tell himself to calm down, to not react to Brendon's scent, but fuck. It's not as easy as Spencer had hoped it would be. He tries to focus on his burger, and not the way Brendon's leg is jiggling under the table, the constant movement making it nearly impossible for Spencer to focus on any other scent. He definitely does not let himself look up when Brendon takes his first bite of burger and moans obnoxiously.

"Jon Walker, marry me," Brendon says. "Marry me and I'll do filthy, sexy things to you just as long as you keep me in burgers."

Spencer, completely against his will, growls. He forces himself to turn it into a loud cough instead, praying no one noticed, and takes a long gulp of beer. He tries his best not to look guilty when he looks up from his plate.

"They're delicious," he says, mostly to Ryan's raised eyebrows. "I got eager."

Spencer makes it through the rest of dinner without any more canine noises, but it's a near thing with Brendon sitting so close and his leg constantly bumping into Spencer's. He's feeling strangely proud of himself until he risks a glance at Brendon and sees him licking ketchup from his fingers, sucking his index finger between his lips. Spencer is about to tackle Brendon, or jump off the roof, or something, when he realizes Ryan's talking.

"So anyway, it's supposed to be really moving and I burned it to DVD and I was thinking we could all watch it."

"Yes!" Spencer almost shouts. "Yes, that is such a good idea, let's watch the movie."

Ryan looks at him quizzically. "I seriously did not think you'd be that into French art house movies, Spence."

Well fuck, Spencer thinks to himself, and Ryan must recognize Spencer's regret face, because he jumps up and starts gathering the plates off the table.

"Nope, you agreed, no take backs," Ryan says.

"It's cool," Brendon says, patting Spencer on the shoulder. "We can throw popcorn at him the entire time. I'll keep score."

Brendon's trying to be nice, Spencer knows, but he's also standing really close, pressed into Spencer's side. Spencer nods kind of dumbly and moves away to grab the rest of the dishes. He rinses the ketchup off his plate and hurries out of the kitchen, where Brendon's making the popcorn, heading into the relative safety of the living room. Jon settles into the weird plaid armchair he called dibs on the second he saw it their first day here, and Ryan sits directly in the middle of the sofa, piling all the pillows up at one end and stretching out.

"Hey," Spencer says, eying the love seat nervously. "No, hey, there's no room for Brendon now."

"Yes there is," Ryan says, reaching behind his head for the remotes and managing to knock them off the table instead. "There is plenty of room for both of you on the love seat. It'll be all nice and romantic."

Spencer knows Ryan's joking, because Ryan doesn't know - there is no way he knows - but he can feel himself flush a little. He bends over quickly to pick up the remotes from the floor, straightening back up and dropping them onto Ryan's chest with a little more force than is strictly necessary.

"Okay, oww," Ryan says, rubbing his ribs. "You don't have to be mean."

"Maybe it's a werewolf thing," Jon says from his chair. "Do you have, like, mood swings because of the lunar cycle or something? Are you in a bad mood because the moon's so small right now?"

"I'm in a bad mood because you're all assholes," Spencer mumbles, stomping over to the love seat and pressing himself as far into the corner as possible. Maybe he'll luck out and Brendon will sit on Ryan's legs just to piss him off.

"Popcorn!" Brendon says, walking carefully into the room while trying to balance three bowls. He hands the two smaller bowls off to Jon and Ryan before handing the giant one to Spencer and sprawling across the love seat, his head in Spencer's lap.

"Um," Spencer says, clutching the popcorn bowl to his chest.

"Oh, here," Brendon says, shooting Spencer an odd look when he has to pry the bowl from Spencer's hands. "We can put it right here," Brendon says, setting the bowl down on his stomach.

Spencer wants to point out that Brendon totally misinterpreted that "um," but instead he just stretches his arm out stiffly on the back of the sofa before he does something stupid like touch Brendon's hair or rub at his neck or any of the other embarrassing things his brain is telling him to do.

Brendon shifts, twisting a little in an effort to get comfortable, and when Spencer glances down Brendon's shirt has ridden up, exposing his stomach. Something dark and strong and sudden shoots through Spencer's belly, and just like that he's completely hard again, his nostrils flaring as he breathes in deep. He's reaching out, his hand going for Brendon's stomach, and he has to bite down on the inside of his cheek hard to snap himself out of it and pretend he was reaching for the popcorn.

Spencer's mouth is watering, the blood pounding in his ears. His entire body feels sprung up tight like it's waiting for something, waiting to pounce, and seriously, what the fuck. Being a werewolf is getting more and more fucked up by the day.

Brendon tilts his head back to look at Spencer and asks, "Hey, are you okay?"

Spencer swallows his mouthful of popcorn and nods, raising his voice when he says, "If we could just go ahead and start the terrible movie, though, that would be awesome."

"You're so judgmental," Ryan says, his forehead all scrunched up as he pokes repeatedly at one button on the remote. "Jon," he finally says, "the big button isn't working."

"That's because you're just turning the volume on and off," Jon says. "Now will you give that here so we can actually watch the movie at some point in the next hour?"

"Fine," Ryan says, tossing the remote to Jon. "But I'm keeping the DVD player remote."

"That one's for the old ass VCR," Brendon adds helpfully.

Spencer snorts out a laugh, grateful for the distraction. He's calmed down a little, enough that he isn't about to freak out and ravish Brendon. Or at least enough that no one's going to notice that he wants to.

He doesn't have to worry about Jon noticing, anyway, since Jon's eyes start slipping shut about ten minutes into the movie. It's every bit as pretentious and foreign as Spencer would expect from Ryan's taste in film, which would be great for making fun of if Ryan didn't actually seem earnestly into the movie. Spencer and Brendon still take a shot at throwing popcorn down the front of Ryan's v-neck, though. Ryan ignores them and eats the popcorn they throw at him without looking away from the television.

The movie itself isn't as interesting as the one about the threesome Ryan made them watch that one time. Spencer tries to pay attention, though, forcing all thoughts of Brendon to the back of his mind.

Except-- Brendon's just so warm. It's weird, because Spencer's been running a little hotter lately himself, but he can feel the warmth all up his legs where Brendon's lying down, and Spencer's a little ashamed at how much just being close to Brendon is affecting him. Even when he tries to shift, Brendon just shifts with him. Brendon sets the bowl of popcorn on the floor, since it's mostly kernels now anyway, and turns on his side, wrapping one of his hands around Spencer's knee. Spencer's chest goes tight and he tries to stay as still as possible, trying to ignore the way he can feel Brendon's pulse just from the touch of his hand.

"This movie sucks," Spencer says, trying very hard to pretend his voice didn't just crack on the word "sucks." Ryan shushes Spencer and pulls the pillow in his lap closer to his chest, staring intently at the screen.

Spencer sighs and trades a quick grin with Brendon (his fingers maybe twitch a little, but Spencer is totally not going to pet Brendon's hair, nope) before turning his attention back to the TV.

And then - and Spencer isn't sure why he doesn't see it coming, since they're having a tender moment in the freaking art studio - the two main characters start kissing, grabbing at each other in desperation. Spencer wants to make a crack at the scene, but the female lead has short, dark hair and curvy hips and. Oh god. Spencer can feel the heat creep up into his face when he realizes he's totally, totally projecting Brendon onto her. She wraps her legs around the guy's waist and then there are a lot of quick, sharp cuts between their faces and their legs as they fuck, and Spencer's getting more turned on by it than he usually would, even though he's trying desperately not to think about Brendon. Spencer focuses on the screen, on the way the girl keeps squeezing her legs tighter and tighter around the guy's waist. Spencer's pretty sure he could hold Brendon up like that with no trouble at all, just hold him up and hold him steady as he fucked him, and son of a bitch. Spencer hates himself.

Spencer doesn't know why he's surprised when he breathes in and catches the scent of arousal, but he still is. It's not just Brendon, either - he can smell Ryan, distantly, though in a way, Spencer has been dealing with Ryan and his boners since they were teenagers, so it doesn't really faze him.

But god, Brendon. The smell gets stronger as the girl's moans get louder, the sound of skin slapping together painfully realistic. It's sort of like watching actual porn, which they've only done a few times on the bus when they were really, really high.

Brendon's arousal just keeps growing, thick and sweet in the air, almost too much for Spencer to take. The heat twists in his gut, his fingers twitching and his instincts telling him to "take, take, take." Spencer pushes that down, though. He doesn't look down at Brendon, doesn't look to the television, doesn't do anything except wait for this to be over. Because - and he kind of hates himself for admitting it - it's getting harder and harder to not hold Brendon down and fuck him when Brendon's turned on like this.

Spencer is just about to snap and do something really, really stupid when the scene cuts to the couple in bed, lounging attractively while smoking, and Brendon pipes up with, "No one really does that, right? I mean, I've never smoked after sex. That's totally one of those movie things, like how no one ever says goodbye before hanging up." He trails off with a nervous laugh, drumming his fingers on the inside of Spencer's knee, and Spencer would laugh if he wasn't still so incredibly turned on.

"Brendon," Ryan says with a groan. "You are ruining this movie."

Spencer can tell Brendon's about to argue, but before he can manage to piss Ryan off, Jon jerks awake with a grunt, looking around blearily.

"Wait," he says, looking at the screen. "Wait, what happened? Oh fuck, did I just miss a sex scene?"

Spencer laughs at Ryan's outraged face, momentarily distracted from Brendon's scent as Jon walks past them, heading up the stairs to his room and mumbling sleepily.

It's a short-lived reprieve, though, because Brendon chooses that moment to push himself up off of Spencer's lap and stretch, arching his back until it pops and then bending over his knees, curving his back and baring the back of his neck. Spencer lets out a low, dark noise, digging his hands into the couch cushions so hard he's a little afraid he's going to rip them, trying desperately to keep from giving in to the hot, stabbing pangs of want shooting through his stomach. Brendon straightens up and looks at Spencer, confused.

"Spence?" he asks, "You okay?"

"Did you just growl?" Ryan asks, his voice more than a little amused.

"No," Spencer says. "Yes. No. I yawned! Sometimes that happens. Werewolf!" It's possible he's a little hysterical. "Anyway, I'm tired, I'm going to bed, enjoy the movie, don't yell at each other loudly enough to wake me up."

Spencer hauls himself off the couch hurriedly, and he seriously, desperately hopes that Brendon does not decide to follow him. If Spencer doesn't get a chance to jerk off he's pretty sure he might die, or at the very least hump Brendon's leg, and neither of those are very appealing options at the moment.

So, naturally, he makes it about halfway up the stairs when he hears Brendon tell Ryan not to rewind to the sex scene and jerk off because the living room is a shared space. Spencer groans a little to himself, pressing his hand to the front of his sweatpants sadly. Brendon's caught up to him by the time Spencer reaches the door to their room, and he flattens himself against Spencer's back, pressing his nose between Spencer's shoulder blades and mumbling something about how tired he is.

Brendon is obviously trying to kill him.

Spencer fumbles with the doorknob stupidly and practically runs into the room, straight into the bathroom. When he turns to shut the door he just catches a glance of Brendon still standing in the doorway, looking sleepy and rumpled and more than a little confused. He doesn't smell quite as turned on now, not as bad as before, but it's still there. Spencer can smell it even after he's shut the bathroom door, just on the edge of his senses, just enough to make sure his cock keeps throbbing insistently.

Spencer considers taking a shower but he's down to his last clean pair of boxers and sleeping naked is not going to help this situation at all. He turns on the faucet hopefully, but it's not loud enough and Brendon is right outside the door, just standing there, smelling amazing and being stupidly hot and ruining Spencer's life. Spencer groans in frustration and reaches for his toothbrush, reaching out and opening the door just so he's not tempted to do something stupid.

Which-- mistake. Brendon's standing directly in Spencer's line of sight, stripped down to his briefs, bent over and rummaging through a drawer. His back is long and curved and his head is bowed and his ass is slightly raised, and Spencer is a little scared he's going to come in his pants without so much as touching himself, just from the way it makes him want. He turns and spits into the sink, grabbing onto the edge and holding on as tight as he can so he doesn't do something fucking stupid like go throw Brendon on the floor and rub against him until he comes.

Which is a nice thought, but also a completely insane one, and Spencer absolutely and undeniably hates his entire fucking life.

"Oh, hey," Brendon says, and Spencer can see him from the corner of his eye as Brendon stands up and walks toward the open bathroom door. "I guess this is a good time to tell you I've been using your toothpaste, right?" Brendon says as he walks into the bathroom. "I forgot to pack mine, and yours is all cinnamon-y. It's delicious."

The bathroom isn't exactly huge, but it's not tiny either, and there's absolutely no reason Brendon has to press himself against Spencer's back again, reaching around his body to grab his own toothbrush and Spencer's toothpaste. Spencer swallows hard and narrowly avoids choking on a mouthful of toothpaste, because Brendon is so warm, his bare skin pressing against Spencer's back through the thin cotton of his t-shirt. Brendon's arm is practically wrapped around Spencer's waist, dangerously low, and if Spencer just tilted his hips up, just a little, and Brendon slid his hand down, and fuck, fuck, fuck.

"Yeah," Spencer says after he spits into the sink. "Yeah, have at it, I'm going to bed, and I'm going to bed now and I'm very tired so don't try to talk to me." Spencer rinses off his toothbrush and sets it in the holder, squirming his way out from between Brendon and the sink. It takes a considerable amount of self control not to turn around and look at Brendon as he walks across the room and shucks off his sweatpants, climbing under his comforter with his back to the bathroom door.

"Right," Brendon says after a second. "I'll get the light as soon as I'm done then, Spence." He sounds more worried than annoyed, and Spencer feels vaguely guilty, but still mostly turned the fuck on and frustrated as hell, and he wills himself to close his eyes and think about absolutely nothing. He pulls the comforter up over his head and presses his nose into the fabric, trying to focus on the slightly musty smell of it, not the way he can still smell Brendon, slightly sweaty and sleepy and still just a little turned on. Spencer drifts off to sleep like that, burrowed into the covers and listening to the noise of the faucet, and just beneath that, the steady, oddly comforting rhythm of Brendon's breathing.

-

Spencer wakes up with a start, his heart pounding. He's panting and confused - he can still smell Brendon all around him, can still feel Brendon tight around his cock, Brendon's back damp with sweat where Spencer's bent over him, fucking him. Spencer groans out loud, rough and broken, his hips jerking up as he comes. Which is when he opens his eyes and realizes, oh yeah, none of that is actually happening.

Spencer whines pathetically, his hips still twitching a little. He's not proud of it, but he's out of breath and his boxers are sticky and he just had a fucking wet dream. He wasn't even touching his cock and he came harder than he has in a long, long time. And just to make the whole thing even more embarrassing, he's still fucking hard.

Spencer takes a deep breath, closing his eyes and pushing his hair away from his face, trying to clear his mind of the images still racing through it - of Brendon on his knees, Spencer pressing in close, his nose pressing into the sweaty hair at the nape of Brendon's neck. His cock twitches and Spencer groans again, letting his head fall heavily to his pillow.

"Spencer?" Brendon says suddenly, his voice rough with sleep. Spencer can see him in the dark of the room, sitting up in bed and rubbing at his eyes. Stupid night vision. It would be so much easier to pretend that was all part of the dream. Spencer swallows heavily, his brain a little fuzzy and his body still warm and tingly from his orgasm.

"Spence, are you okay?" Brendon asks again, his sheets ruffling as he moves to get out of bed, and panic floods Spencer's chest. He can't let Brendon come over here. He knows Brendon, knows he won't think twice about climbing into bed with him, and Spencer-- he can't. He can't let Brendon find out, fuck, it's embarrassing enough as is. Spencer sits up quickly and says, "No!" in a loud voice, startling both of them.

There's a pause, so quiet that Spencer can hear the bugs outside of their window.

"Spencer, are you--"

"Please, Brendon, just. Go back to bed. I'm fine." Spencer hates how short he sounds, how rough his voice is, but he just woke up mid-orgasm from a dream where he was fucking Brendon, and Brendon finding out is the last thing he needs right now.

"Are you sure?" Brendon asks after a few more moments of silence, and Spencer takes a moment to hate his stupid werewolf senses again because he can see Brendon in the dark, sitting at the edge of his bed, his hair wild and eyes heavy, and Spencer's chest goes tight.

"Yes. Yes, I mean it. Good night, Brendon."

"Right," Brendon says softly, turning to crawl back into bed. "'Night, Spence."

Brendon rolls over to presumably go back to sleep, his breath evening out again, and Spencer sighs and collapses back onto the pillows, resolutely keeping his back turned to Brendon until he drifts back off to sleep.

-

Spencer manages to out-sleep Brendon, and he wakes up feeling thoroughly disgusting, his boxers stuck to his skin. He heads to the bathroom and peels them off with a grimace, making a mental note to do some fucking laundry. He jerks off in the shower - twice, in fact - but he still feels restless and kind of caged in, like he wants to stalk around and growl at something.

It's fucked up, is the thing - how much Brendon is getting inside of his head. It's not that Spencer had never thought about it before, never given idle consideration to what Brendon would be in like bed, how he would kiss, how it would feel. But Spencer's never, never let it go any further than that. Idle curiosity is fine, but it's also very different from the shit that's been going on in his head, from how crazy Brendon's smell makes him, from how badly he wants to push Brendon down and just take.

And it's an even worse idea now. Spencer still doesn't trust himself not to hurt someone when he's mad, and the way he's feeling about Brendon has him in even less control than usual. He keeps finding himself leaning in, swaying toward Brendon without meaning to, staring at Brendon while he thinks about how easily he could hold Brendon down, pin him and just smell him, taste him. Spencer can barely control himself now, and the thought of what he might do if something were to actually happen is terrifying. A dark part of Spencer also finds it a little thrilling, but he mostly tells that part to shut the fuck up before he totally loses his mind.

Spencer towels off and gives brief thought to going running, or at least getting the fuck out of the house, but in the end he settles on an old standby and heads down to the practice space beside the studio. Drumming has always helped before when he felt like this, restless and pent up, so he figures he might as well give it a shot. It doesn't matter what he plays, or for how long, but something about having to focus on rhythms instead of what's going on in his stupid brain seems to help. The cabin's practice space is a big, soundproofed room all the way to the back of the cabin, and Spencer doesn't realize someone's already in there until he opens the door.

He smells Brendon before he sees him. The smell is thick, hot and overwhelming, sweat and arousal and frustration. Something burns low in Spencer's stomach, something that Spencer has to close his eyes against because it's not okay, the thoughts that flood his head. Spencer's still trying to get used to this attraction, and how it came out of fucking nowhere, but he still feels guilty when he starts to get hard.

Brendon's shirtless, unsurprisingly, since it gets pretty hot in the practice space. His skin is pale and gleaming with sweat, muscles shifting as he pounds at Spencer's drums.

"Hey," Spencer says, not too loud, but Brendon looks up, startled. He goes still, abruptly ending the beat he had going, his face flushed when he looks at Spencer and says, "Sorry. I just..."

Brendon doesn't finish, and Spencer wants to ask, You just what? And why are you so fucking turned on? Instead, Spencer just shrugs and says, "It's okay."

Brendon stands up and starts to walk toward Spencer, and Spencer just stops himself from taking a step back, his nostrils flaring. Sweat drips down over Brendon's neck, his chest just as flushed as the rest of his skin, shining and slick, and Spencer really, really can't stop himself from imagining if Brendon tastes as good as he smells. He should be grossed out - it's Brendon's sweat, for fuck's sake - but it doesn't stop the way his cock jerks in his pants, or the way something deep inside Spencer just wants.

Brendon stops a few feet in front of Spencer, and Spencer realizes his sense of smell isn't even necessary when he glances down at the bulge straining at the front of Brendon's jeans. Fuck, no wonder the smell is so strong - Brendon's not even trying to hide it.

"Sorry about bugging you last night. I forgot how hard this has to be for you," Brendon says softly, looking up at Spencer with wide and sincere eyes.

Spencer clenches his hands into fists at his sides and hopes Brendon doesn't notice when he takes a deep breath, shuddering a little at the thick taste of arousal in the warm air of the room. "Hey, no, it's. I wasn't angry or anything," Spencer says. That's only sort of a lie. Spencer was angry with himself, but Brendon can't help that Spencer suddenly can't be around him without wanting to fuck him. "It was just hard to sleep. I could hear Ryan's stupid movie," Spencer adds, lying through his teeth.

Brendon digs his teeth nervously into his lip and Spencer thinks that maybe Brendon really is trying to kill him. He would openly welcome death at this point, though, already too far gone to pretend he doesn't want Brendon in every way he shouldn't.

"So you can... you can hear from that far away?"

"I heard him talking to himself about how he should look into buying a beret, so yeah," Spencer says, smiling a little, but Brendon's face is suddenly scrunched up like he's upset. Spencer is lost. What does his hearing have to do with anything, anyway? "What?"

"So you can hear everything?"

"Well, yeah, within reason," Spencer says. "Brendon, seriously, what?"

Brendon freezes. "You're not pissed?"

"Pissed about what?" Spencer tries to keep his voice even, because Brendon's acting weirdly skittish.

"That I said-- when I was jerking off, after I jerked off you started acting weird, so I thought..." Brendon pauses. "Dude, wait. You did hear that, right?"

Spencer's mind is racing, trying to put together what Brendon's apologizing for. "What are you talking about? I could smell you."

Brendon blinks. "That's. You can smell sounds?"

Spencer laughs suddenly at the absurdity of the statement, and Brendon does too, breaking the tension for a moment. "No, I could tell you jerked off, because. I could smell it," Spencer finishes in a small voice, and where Brendon's embarrassment was just wearing off, his face now burns bright red.

"Oh my god." Brendon shoves his hands in his pockets, leaning back. "And right now...?"

"Well. Yeah." Spencer's blushing too, because he is the creepiest werewolf ever, but Brendon doesn't look creeped out. Just really, really red. And the scent of his arousal hasn't lessened any, but Spencer has no idea what that means.

"Well, fuck." Brendon laughs again, the sound short, and Spencer shrugs.

"Sorry. I know it's--I'm really, really sorry."

"No, hey, you can't help it, right? It's my fault. I should probably-- I mean, what do I even smell like?"

It's Spencer's turn to freeze, and his eyes go wide when he realizes that Brendon's serious. "Really?" he asks nervously, mentally wincing when Brendon nods. "Just sort of... like sweat, sort of salty? And sweet, almost tangy, and fuck, this is hard to explain," Spencer stammers, his face burning.

Brendon smiles, shaking his head. "It's okay, I was just wondering. I'll just." Brendon nods toward the door and Spencer steps aside to let Brendon leave.

When Brendon walks past him on his way to the door, Spencer's hit with his scent, thick and strong and amazing, and Spencer feels his knees actually buckle a little with how badly he wants to go after Brendon, go after him and pin him up against the practice room wall and drop to his knees.

He is so fucked.

-

It's surprisingly easy to avoid Brendon, given that they're sleeping in the same room. Spencer mostly sticks to hanging out with Jon while Ryan and Brendon fool around in the studio, arguing over lyrics and chord progressions. That first night Spencer falls asleep on the floor of the living room with Jon after they smoke up and play Halo, and the next night Brendon stays in the practice space until almost 5am. Spencer stays as still as humanly possible when Brendon comes into their room and falls into bed.

Spencer doesn't get up until well after noon, and once he's stumbled down the stairs and eaten three Pop-Tarts, they all pile into the studio so they can start laying down tracks for the song Ryan has mostly written. Spencer spends most of his time wincing at the lyrics and trying to convince Ryan that he can't actually play the drum part Ryan wants unless he gets two more arms and a rotating kit, and it's not until they all finally give up and trudge into the kitchen to find food that Spencer notices it.

There's been something tugging at his mind all day, some smell that's almost familiar but he can't quite identify. Now that his head is relatively clear for the moment and he's not focused on anything, he takes a deep breath in and realizes exactly what it is he's smelling. Brendon is, for lack of a better term, really fucking horny, but the way he smells now is just different enough to throw Spencer off. Spencer struggles to put a name to it, why it smells so different, and it isn't until Brendon slams his hand in the cabinet and curses that he realizes what's going on. Brendon's not just horny, he's frustrated. It doesn't make sense to Spencer, why Brendon wouldn't just go jerk off if he's this turned on.

That night Spencer stays up as late as he can, even going as far as to watch old Donna Reed Show reruns with Ryan on Nick at Nite until four in the morning, before eventually trudging up the stairs to his room. Brendon is asleep when Spencer cracks open the door, but before he can be too grateful, the smell hits him, thick and musky and everywhere, and Spencer's eyes immediately sharpen, picking out Brendon's figure in the dark. Brendon's hands are tightened in the sheets and his hips are jerking forward shakily in his sleep, and Spencer shuts the door as quietly as he can before hurrying back down the stairs and locking himself in the downstairs bathroom. He bites down hard on the side of his hand as he jerks off, trying to keep quiet just in case Ryan can hear him from the game room.

-

Spencer ends up sleeping on the sofa again and waking up sore and cramped. He's in a pretty shitty mood to begin with, and it only gets worse when they lock themselves in the practice space and Brendon is all Spencer can smell, thick and sharp. Brendon seems to be in an even shittier mood, snapping at Ryan over every suggestion and kicking angrily at his mic stand when he blows a verse. It helps take the focus off of Spencer's bad mood, but it also makes Brendon's arousal and frustration smell even stronger, sharper somehow in a way that goes straight to Spencer's cock. It makes him want to reach out and grab Brendon, push him down onto the floor and hold him there until he gives in, goes still, and stops being so frantic and full of anger and frustration.

"Brendon, what the fuck is your problem?" Ryan asks after the third time Brendon fumbles a line and tosses his notes to the ground.

"My problem is your stupid ass lyrics, so either you try pronouncing some of this shit on rhythm on the first go or stop writing such pretentious fucking bullshit," Brendon snaps, knocking his mic stand over and stomping out of the practice space.

Ryan whirls on Spencer, his mouth drawn up in a tight line. "What the fuck is up with him, seriously?" Ryan asks, starting to pace. "He was all for these lyrics a few days ago. He helped me write some of them, for fuck's sake."

"Maybe we just all need a break," Jon says evenly, setting his bass down. "We can order a pizza, watch something with explosions, and get really, really high. Everyone will feel awesome, I promise."

Ryan sets his guitar down on the rack with a shrug, already arguing about pizza toppings as he follows Jon out of the practice space, and Spencer takes a deep breath before standing to follow them out, trying to ignore the faint smell of Brendon that's still in the air.

They end up getting pizza with three kinds of meat on it per Spencer's request. Spencer carries the boxes into the kitchen and ignores Ryan when he calls Spencer a "growing boy" and pats his arm patronizingly.

"Don't worry, he's just jealous that all this food is going straight to your muscles," Brendon says with a grin, loading up three pieces of pizza onto a plate. "How does that work, anyway?"

"Not sure, there aren't a lot of books on werewolf diets," Spencer says, but then he makes sure to smile back at Brendon so Brendon doesn't think he's being a jerk. The sharp tang of frustration has mostly dissipated but Spencer can still smell arousal, just over the scent of pizza, and Spencer grabs some pizza and steals away to the living room before Brendon can start talking again.

Ryan hasn't taken up the whole couch with his gangly legs yet, but Spencer opts for the love seat anyway. Ryan has evil, pepperoni-stealing tendencies.

"What are we watching?"

"The Fast and the Furious," Jon says, skipping through all the title screens. "I'm not sure which one, but I'm very confident there will be explosions. Fast, furious explosions."

Spencer grins and takes a bite of pizza. Brendon finally joins them, a Red Bull in one hand and pizza in the other, and there's a painfully awkward moment when he lingers in the doorway and eyes the two empty spots, next to Ryan and next to Spencer.

Brendon finally walks past Ryan and settles down on the couch next to Spencer, on the opposite end. Spencer makes the mistake of breathing in and catches Brendon's scent, as strong as it's ever been, and he quickly takes another bite of pizza to distract himself. He manages to get through an hour of the movie and an entire pizza before it starts to get to him.

Brendon is still pressed into the opposite side of the love seat, but he keeps fidgeting, restless and keyed up, and every time he moves Spencer can smell him, more and more strongly. He's turned on and frustrated and restless, and Spencer doesn't realize just how thoroughly he's zoned out until a particularly loud explosion snaps him from his thoughts of pressing Brendon down into the cushions and trapping him there between Spencer's knees until he stops twitching.

Spencer shakes his head and flushes when he realizes Brendon's looking at him. He has no idea how long Brendon's been watching him, how long he's been sitting there watching Spencer stare at Brendon like a giant creep. Brendon tilts his head a little and then shifts forward, sliding closer to Spencer on the sofa, and it's too much. Brendon's movement makes the smell even stronger, and Brendon is right there - Spencer could reach out and grab him, hold him down - and Spencer jumps up without thinking about it, reaching down to gather the two pizza boxes and abandoned plates off the floor.

"What," Ryan says when Spencer moves to grab his plate, moving over to get Jon's next. "What are you doing?"

"I'm cleaning up. Maybe you've heard of it before?"

"Fuck off, there's no point cleaning if it's just us," Ryan mumbles, and Spencer rolls his eyes.

"And this is why your electricity and water keep getting shut off even though you have plenty of money to pay them."

"Hey, can you get me another piece?" Jon asks, oblivious, and Spencer throws a crumpled-up napkin at Ryan's head and goes back into the kitchen.

Spencer drops the plates in the sink and pizza boxes on the counter, leaning over the sink and taking a deep breath. The window is open and it smells like outside, a thousand scents that drove Spencer crazy before but are now just kind of calming.

Spencer takes another deep breath, trying to clear the thoughts racing through his brain about Brendon. If Spencer wasn't so fixated on Brendon's damn scent, and if Brendon didn't insist on being so close to Spencer all the time--

"Are you really going to do dishes? I didn't even know we had dish soap here."

Fuck, maybe Brendon really is trying to kill him.

"I'm not actually--" Spencer pauses, realizing it's probably not a good idea to tell Brendon that he had to get out of there before he held Brendon down and fucked him. That would definitely be creepy. "I fucking hate that movie."

Brendon laughs, loud and sudden, and a smile tugs at the corner of Spencer's mouth too. It's not even funny. The sudden sexual attraction Spencer can handle, but this whole crush business is just not on.

"Hey. Hey, about earlier, Spence." Spencer looks up and Brendon's staring at him with big eyes, all the laughter suddenly gone. "I'm sorry. I'm really sorry for being such a dick. I don't know what's wrong with me lately."

Brendon just looks so sad and apologetic, like he fucking went to school to learn how to be that good at it. Spencer can't stand it, and it's not like it's Brendon's fault that Spencer's fucked up with this werewolf thing. He almost says as much, but he settles for stepping forward, lifting his arms to hug Brendon like he's used to doing.

As soon as Spencer gets close enough, though, he smells it again - the arousal is warm and thick in the air, and it's all Spencer can taste when he breathes in. Brendon's reaching for Spencer's neck when Spencer suddenly steps back, his heart pounding when he thinks about putting his arms around Brendon like this.

"Hey, what? C'mon, dude," Brendon says, stepping forward again, and Spencer swallows, Brendon's scent making his cock stir and the thoughts starting up in his brain again, the dark, insistent impulses that Spencer has to hold back.

"Nothing, just--" Spencer tries, swallowing hard.

"Come on, if ever there was a time for hugs, this is it. Today's been shit," Brendon says, darting forward and wrapping his arms around Spencer's waist, burying his face in the crook of Spencer's neck. Brendon's pressed tightly against his body, his breath stirring against Spencer's skin, the nape of his neck right under Spencer's nose. Spencer starts to shake a little, his entire body telling him to grab onto Brendon and keep him there, hold Brendon tight against his body and breathe him in. Spencer clenches his hands into fists at his side, trying to keep himself from doing something stupid.

Spencer shifts, trying to push Brendon back without touching him, but Brendon just squeezes harder, shifting his body closer to Spencer's. "Dude, you're hug-blocking me hardcore right now," Brendon says against Spencer's neck. He's so close that his lips brush Spencer's skin when he speaks, and Spencer can't do this, he can't.

Brendon is much too close, too warm and solid, and the way he smells. Spencer's makes himself unclench his fists slowly, carefully, to bring his hands up to Brendon's shoulders. He means to push at Brendon's shoulders, push him back, but Brendon shifts even closer when Spencer touches him, his hips tilting until they press up against Spencer's, and Brendon is hard, just hard enough for Spencer to feel.

Spencer growls low in his throat, his mind going hazy before focusing in on Brendon's scent, and he buries his nose in the hair at the nape of Brendon's neck, breathing in deep. Brendon's breath hitches and he moves in closer, making Spencer's nose slide through his hair, and Spencer growls again and squeezes down on Brendon's shoulder's, wanting him to stay still, still and pliant so Spencer can take in his scent. Brendon gasps out a little and Spencer's brain immediately recognizes the sound as discomfort. His entire stomach goes sick and tight when he realizes just how tightly he's gripping Brendon's shoulders, and he lets go immediately, jerking back from Brendon's arms so roughly that Brendon stumbles back, his back hitting the edge of the counter with an audible thunk.

Brendon's eyes go wide, and Spencer can feel the blood drain from his face all at once. He wants to reach out for Brendon, make sure he's okay, but that's what got him here in the first place. Spencer opens his mouth to say something, say sorry, say anything, but all that comes out is a low noise that sounds almost like a wail. Brendon swallows, eyes are still big and round, and Spencer can still smell him, thick and turned on and frustrated, and Spencer can't even begin to deal with that right now. He just can't, so he turns on heel and rushes up the steps before Brendon can say anything.

Spencer was headed for their room, but as soon as he opens the door he can smell Brendon, his sweat and his deodorant and his shampoo, and it's all too much, so he pulls the door shut and heads for the window that leads up to the roof, letting out a sigh of relief as soon as he's out in the fresh air.

Spencer drops his head between his knees and breathes in deep. He can smell the forest and the soil and the deer and the rabbits, out now that the sun is going down, but most importantly he can't smell Brendon. It's a relief until Spencer lets himself think about why, about the fact that he just hurt Brendon and then ran away. He could have-- fuck, he could have seriously hurt Brendon. Spencer can snap his drumsticks in half with no effort at all, he can lift Jon above his head with one hand, he pulls doorknobs off if he's not careful, and he just let himself grab at Brendon like that, grab down and squeeze, and it was all over a hug.

His attraction to Brendon is dangerous enough on its own for a whole host of reasons that don't have anything to do with being a werewolf, but now, now it's even worse. Spencer's had more dark thoughts about Brendon in the past few weeks than he's had in his life about anyone else, ever. The way Spencer's been so fixated on Brendon is bad enough, but hurting Brendon - even on accident - because he couldn't control his himself was scary. Scary, and sickening, and it's really fucking terrifying that he can't trust himself around Brendon anymore. Spencer takes a shaky breath and tries to calm down, tries to focus on the more immediate problem of going back in the house and facing Brendon, sleeping in the same room with him. He's very resolutely not letting himself think about what will happen if he can't, what will happen to the band, when Jon hauls himself onto the roof with a grunt.

"So," he says, pulling out a joint and a lighter. "Brendon's not talking but you're usually an easy mark. What the fuck is up?"

Spencer doesn't answer, just snatches the joint from Jon and takes a long drag, holding the smoke in his lungs until he feels a little lightheaded before exhaling.

"Well, damn," Jon says, taking the joint back from Spencer. "I didn't know it was that bad."

Spencer rolls his eyes and tilts his head onto Jon's shoulder, just sitting there for a few minutes while Jon smokes. It's comforting, being close to someone without going absolutely insane. Jon holds the joint up to Spencer's mouth for the last drag and then grinds it out on the roof tiles before flicking the roach off the roof.

"That's wasteful," Spencer says. "And somewhere out there an anthropomorphic bear going absolutely apeshit."

Jon laughs, warm and familiar, and Spencer feels stupidly close to crying. He doesn't want to lose this, doesn't want to lose his band because he can't fucking control himself. "I fucked up," he says quietly.

"Can't be that bad," Jon says after a moment. "There was no blood, and you didn't eat Brendon or anything."

Spencer laughs hoarsely, trying not to let himself even consider that he could do far, far worse. He swallows around the lump in his throat and sits up, moving away from Jon and dropping his head back down to his knees.

"Spence," Jon says, rubbing at his shoulders. "It's not like you know how to deal with this any better than we do, okay? We get that, we all get that. Ryan even gave me and Brendon a speech before we came up here that if we were weird around you he'd kick us out of the band."

Spencer snorts, loud and sudden, because that is absolutely something Ryan would do, even though it's not like he wasn't being weird around Spencer. It's not something he'd follow through on, but it's something he'd do, and Spencer feels a little better, just from realizing it's true.

"Whatever happened, it's cool," Jon says, patting Spencer on the back before climbing to his knees and shuffling over to the window. "You guys will work it out, and if you can't, you can let Ryan mediate. He loves that shit."

Spencer laughs, smiling at Jon's back as he tumbles back through the window. They've seriously got to come up with a better system for getting on and off of the roof. Spencer thinks idly about building some kind of rail, but he's pretty sure that would void their security deposit on the cabin. Not to mention that he's totally procrastinating going back inside, hoping against hope that Brendon will already be in bed and he can get away with sleeping on the couch.

It's getting cold, though - cold enough that Spencer is actually starting to feel it despite how hot he runs now. Spencer gets to his knees with a sigh, heading over to the window and managing to drop back inside slightly more gracefully than Jon. He stills for a minute once he closes the window, listening, and breathes a sigh of relief when he can hear Brendon's even, deep breathing from their room down the hall.

Brendon's asleep, which means Spencer is off the hook for a few more hours. Spencer starts down for the stairs, heading for the couch, and it's not until he rounds the corner that he realizes he didn't remember to check if everyone was already in bed.

"Spence?" Ryan asks without turning around, his back to Spencer, and Spencer freezes where he's standing in the living room. "Why aren't you upstairs?"

"How did you know it was me, creep?" Spencer shoots back, walking toward the couch to sit down next to Ryan. He has to push at Ryan's legs so Ryan will make room for him, but Ryan doesn't protest much.

"Right, you can smell when there's a bunny in the backyard and I'm the creep?"

"Okay," Spencer grumbles, leaning back into the couch. "Point taken."

"So," Ryan says, sitting up a little to look at Spencer. "You fucked up."

"Oh, for fuck's sake," Spencer groans. Ryan just stares, and it's a little unnerving. Spencer knows Ryan's doing on purpose, of course, since he's been doing it since they were in grade school.

"No," Spencer says decisively, and he wants to kick Ryan when Ryan just raises his eyebrows. "No, I don't want to talk about it. If-- if it becomes, like, a thing, I'll talk to you. But right now I just want to fucking pass out."

"I know," Ryan says, and there's something about the way he says it and he means it that makes Spencer randomly grateful to be in a band with his best friend. Spencer's throat gets a little tight and he coughs, because seriously, what is with him and the emotional overload lately? Maybe Jon's right and it really is werewolf puberty.

"So I take it you're sleeping down here?"

Spencer nods. He trusts Ryan not to push the issue any further.

"Okay, then. Get over here." Ryan leans back into the couch and pats his lap, wiggling his eyebrows suggestively at Spencer.

"Oh god, you're an asshole," Spencer says, laughing a little as he lies down with his head resting in Ryan's lap. Ryan's fingers brush through Spencer's hair, petting him and scritching idly at his scalp. Spencer closes his eyes and starts to drift off to sleep, trying his best not to think about anything but the warm, familiar way Ryan smells.

-

Link to part 2