Fic - Counting on the Night
Counting on the Night
Spencer/Brendon, Brendon/Ryan
NC17
6600+ words
Regency AU
D/s themes, use of restraints, slavery/ownership
Summary: Brendon belonged to Ryan, and it was in Spencer's best interest to remember that.
Notes: Written for disarm_d for the bandomstuffsit exchange.
Spencer Smith, Viscount Whitleaf, was in a mood. The weather, a ghastly combination of numbing wind and steady rainfall, had added an hour to the journey from his home in Barton to Ellenbrook, seat of his Lordship, Ryan Ross, the Earl of Wallingford.
Spencer had little patience for carriages, he'd much have preferred to go on horseback, or ideally, in his curricle, but this time around he planned to be at Ellenbrook for a month, and going by carriage was a necessity.
By the time the horses began to make the ascent towards Ross's estate, Spencer was beginning to feel the effects of the journey, claustrophobia creeping in to settle alongside the bone-deep chill from the rain. He was looking forward to warming himself in Ross’s rooms with a strong drink.
He didn't bother waiting for the driver to open the door for him once the carriage had come to a stop.
"If I never see the inside of a carriage for as long as I live," Spencer muttered to his valet as he climbed out and set unsteady feet on solid ground, not bothering to finish the thought.
"Smith!" Spencer turned automatically at the sound of Lord Ross's voice and felt some of his mood begin to shift. Ryan was coming down the steps, oblivious to the chill and rain, a wide smile spreading across his face.
Spencer schooled his expression, a stern set to his mouth, though it lasted until Ryan held out a hand.
"Smith, so good to see you, thank you for coming," Ryan said with a gleam in his eyes.
"Never mind that," Spencer said curtly, though he couldn't help the small smile as he curled his palm around Ryan's, pulling him in for an embrace that would have raised eyebrows had they not known each other practically since birth, closer than brothers they'd been for nearly twenty-two years.
"Come, let's go inside," Ryan said, nodding instruction to Spencer's driver. "It's damn cold out here."
Spencer followed Ryan inside the house he'd inherited at the young age of sixteen. "It's been too long, Spence," Ryan said, ushering Spencer into a parlor where a fire had been lit in the grate, the room flooded in a warm, inviting glow.
Spencer bit back his laugh as he settled into a high backed chair opposite the heat presented by the fire. "It's been less than a month," Spencer said, nodding his thanks as a young woman entered with a tray of tea.
"Yes, far too long," Ryan said, smiling slightly as he settled in across from Spencer.
Spencer felt his mood begin to lighten as he and Ryan caught each other up on the events of their lives in the weeks since they’d last been together.
The tea warmed him and Ryan’s stories about his new boy cheered him and he could feel himself slowly relaxing.
Ryan was in the middle of a particularly raunchy tale involving Brendon, his latest companion, when the doors to the parlor opened.
“Speak of the devil,” Ryan said with a dirty grin. He gestured to the young man who’d just come in.
“Brendon,” Ryan said, motioning him forward. “Come meet my oldest and dearest friend.”
Spencer got to his feet and watched as the young man made his way into the room. He was slight, considerably smaller than Spencer and built not unlike a woman, with wide hips and a lush rear end that brought the filthiest thoughts to mind.
"Smith," Ryan said, nodding to Brendon and looking at him with darkened eyes.
Brendon had a book clasped between his hands and he was smiling slightly as he came to stand beside Ryan, who remained sitting and curled a possessive hand around Brendon’s hip.
“I’d like to introduce you to Brendon," Ryan gestured to their guest. "My, ah - cousin," Ryan said with a smirk.
"Brendon,” Spencer said, stepping towards Brendon and offering his hand. “It’s a pleasure to meet you."
Brendon’s palm was warm, his skin soft, when he curled his hand around Spencer’s own, not so much shaking as holding. He had large, brown eyes, a wide pink mouth and pale skin. There was something slightly mischievous in his eyes, something just below the surface as though he was reigning himself in. Spencer was most looking forward to coaxing him loose.
Brendon held Spencer’s gaze as he said in a low, soft voice, "the pleasure is mine," with just the slightest hint of flirtation. His eyes were soft at the corners, his pink mouth turned up as he laughed slightly.
“Ryan has told me much about you,” Spencer told Brendon as he sat back down, letting his eyes slide over Brendon in an entirely inappropriate manner that Spencer never would have risked had it not been the three of them alone in Ryan’s manor.
Ryan wrapped a hand around Brendon’s wrist and tugged so that Brendon was hunched, leaning over Ryan. Ryan tilted his chin up, leaning in close, and whispered something in Brendon's ear.
Brendon's face turned a becoming shade of pink but his smile grew broader. "Yes, sir," he said, his voice dropping slightly. "If you'll excuse me, Lord Smith,” Brendon straightened and turned towards Spencer, bowing slightly. “It was good to meet you. I'm sure I'll be seeing much more of you." He turned and Spencer watched the pleasing curve of his ass as he let himself out, shutting the door quietly behind him.
Spencer watched him go, momentarily at a loss for words. He had learned all about Brendon through Ryan on their last visit together, had been treated to many stories regarding their dalliances together, and still Spencer had not been expecting this.
“True,” Ryan had said a month ago, when they were in London together at Ryan’s house on Grosvenor Square, “he was woefully unskilled and green for what I paid for him, though his, er - studies have been most entertaining. For both of us.”
“I’m sure you must have imagined him with your mind,” Spencer said now with a laugh, reaching for his tea and raising an eyebrow at Ryan.
Ryan sat looking smug and incredibly pleased with himself. “Yes, he seems almost too good to be true, doesn’t he?”
“Yes, but you needn’t rub it in,” Spencer said wryly. He had a fair amount of experience with Ryan’s distant cousins, young men that came to live with Ryan under the pretense of being long lost family until Ryan had moved on and gotten restless.
"I've always admired your gall," Spencer said, smiling affectionately at Ryan.
Ryan had always had difficulty following rules, particularly those set forth by society. Tongues liked to wag every time a new cousin came to stay with Ryan, though Ryan had both the wealth and the status that allowed for most of the gossip to bounce off him with nary a scratch on his social standing, though he took great delight in the stories of his reputation.
Spencer had long entertained fantasies of following Ryan’s example, though he wasn’t in a position that he could be so careless with his own reputation.
And so, Ryan had dreamt up these sojourns, and invited Spencer to come and look after the estate and other matters while Ryan was away or abroad, doing whatever it was Ryan liked to do.
A letter of request that Spencer come and manage Ryan’s affairs while Ryan was away from Ellenbrook was far more acceptable for someone of Spencer’s upbringing and position than simply jaunting away to make use of Ryan’s amusements without any explanation. Particularly given he had two younger sisters who would be making their debuts in London in the coming season and Spencer couldn’t afford a scandal if he intended to have his sisters marry well. He had hopes that both his sisters would make advantageous matches and any mutterings about his activities while he was away from Waverly would be damaging to their chances. He didn’t have the luxury of thumbing his nose at polite society the way Ryan, who had no brothers or sisters and therefore no charges to consider, chose to.
These respites from his duties and responsibilities at Waverly were few and far between. Spencer was looking forward to taking advantage of everything Ryan was offering.
“Well,” Ryan said then, getting to his feet. “I am due in London by nightfall, and with this weather I think it’s best if I be on my way.”
Brendon joined them in the entryway while they waited for Ryan’s valet and driver to pull the carriage around.
“There you are,” Ryan said when he saw Brendon. He touched Brendon’s hip and leaned in closer.
“Before I leave,” he said, dropping his voice, “I’d like a word in private, if you will.”
Spencer averted his eyes as Brendon nodded and followed Ryan down the hall towards the library. Spencer pointedly made a show of admiring one of the portraits hanging in the entrance as he waited, doing his best not to imagine any of the number of things that could be taking place.
Much too long passed to be considered proper before they reappeared, Ryan looking unaffected and composed, Brendon looking flushed and ill-kempt, his mouth slightly askew and used looking, his trousers sitting a little haphazardly on his hips.
Ryan’s valet appeared with his overcoat and helped Ryan into it.
“Thank you,” Ryan said, and took a step towards Brendon, reaching for him, a hand on his wrist.
“I trust you’ll be good for Spencer,” Ryan said, lips brushing Brendon’s ear, just low enough for Spencer to hear. “He is my oldest friend, and I know you’ll show him the same respect and care you show me.”
“Yes, sir,” Brendon whispered, his face flushed. He shifted a little, feet shuffling against the floor. “I’ll do my best.”
Ryan smiled then, pure affection in it. “I know you will,” he assured Brendon.
Ryan turned to Spencer. “You know how to get in touch with me should you need to. However,” Ryan said, grinning wickedly, “I don’t anticipate you needing to.”
Spencer bit back his retort. “Enjoy your travels, Ross,” he said, rolling his eyes just slightly.
Ryan grinned. “I plan to.”
* * *
Spencer spent most of the day doing his best to keep his mind busy. He secluded himself in Ryan’s study to go over the books, making note of the things Ryan had asked his opinion on. He was restless, his skin tight with anticipation. It had been a month since his last visit to London, since the last time he’d let himself partake in pleasures of the carnal sort and he was feeling the itch, particularly knowing that Brendon was around somewhere and would be coming to him later.
That evening, however, Spencer waited in his chambers for Brendon, waited with growing impatience and restlessness. After an hour or so of pretending to read one of the many considerable volumes he’d brought with him, he resigned himself to the fact that Brendon wouldn’t be coming to him this evening and took himself in hand. It didn’t take long, worked up as he was and while it sated him, it wasn’t nearly as satisfying as if he’d had Brendon beneath him.
In the morning, when Brendon joined him for breakfast, Spencer said, “I was surprised not to see you last night,” watching Brendon’s face as he did so.
Brendon went still, going tense. He looked over at Spencer, his eyes wide, surprised. “You were? I’m sorry sir, please, I was waiting for you.” He looked genuinely apologetic, startled by Spencer’s admission. “Ryan, Ryan always comes to me, to my chambers.”
“I see,” Spencer said with a nod. “Always in your chambers only?”
Brendon nodded, a look of chagrin in his eyes that Spencer hadn’t intended to put there.
“Brendon,” Spencer kept his tone firm, even, “while I am here, it will be up to you to come to me. Is that understood?”
Brendon looked down. “Yes, sir, I’m sorry,” he mumbled.
Spencer reached across the space between them and touched Brendon’s shirtsleeve. “Brendon, you misunderstand me.” He waited for Brendon to look up from his plate. “I am not chastising you, it is not my intention that you feel as though I am upset. I am merely explaining what you can expect from me in the time that I am here. Is that clear?”
“Yes, sir, my apologies, it won’t happen again.”
“If it is not your wish to come to me,” Spencer said quietly, “then I will not expect you to do so.”
Brendon shook his head. “No, sir, that is not the case. I will come to you this evening.” He paused, as if there was more he wanted to say.
Spencer smiled slightly. “Go on, you can speak your mind with me, Brendon, that I can guarantee.”
Brendon hesitated. “Well, it’s just that - I do what Ryan tells me.” There was something in the way he said it, the slight gleam in his eyes, pride at the admission.
Spencer raised an eyebrow and sat back in his chair, unexpectedly pleased. “Oh?”
Brendon nodded, flushing slightly, but clearly proud that where Ryan was concerned he was obedient.
“And what, may I ask, were Lord Ross’s instructions concerning me?”
Brendon looked up, eyes on Spencer’s. “Simply, sir, to please you.”
Spencer’s smile widened, unsurprised. “I think that shouldn’t be a problem, Brendon,” Spencer told him. “I don’t think that will be a problem in the slightest.”
And yet, once again that evening, Spencer was left waiting for Brendon and when he didn’t show, was forced to take matters into his own hands again.
However, far from raising his ire, it served only to heighten the anticipation and as he stroked himself, eyes closed, he pictured Brendon in his bed, beneath him, pictured the things they would do together.
The following morning, Brendon was waiting in the dining room, already dressed and seated for breakfast, when Spencer came down.
“Don’t be mad, please,” Brendon said hastily when he saw Spencer, getting to his feet. His words tumbled out in a rush. “I went to your chambers last night, well I tried to, but I’ve only ever been in my part of the house and I got turned around. I got lost,” he said, frowning at himself.
Spencer stopped in his tracks, surprised by Brendon’s apparent remorse. He held up a hand. Once he was seated, settled back in his chair, he gestured for Brendon to continue, eyes sliding slowly over Brendon, watching as Brendon struggled to keep from fidgeting.
“Yes,” Brendon insisted, somewhat urgently. “I’m sorry, sir, my Lord. This place is much too large and confusing, I get all turned around.”
“This has happened before?” Spencer prompted, waiting.
Brendon looked sheepish. “Yes, sir, when I first came to stay here, Ryan - Lord Ross, instructed me to meet him at the library every morning at eleven. It wasn’t until the fifth day that I was on time. Ry - Lord Ross was very displeased.” Brendon’s face was red, remembering.
“I see,” Spencer said. “Well clearly, something must be done about this,” Spencer insisted, getting to his feet. “If you’ll excuse me.”
He removed himself to the library and when he came back several minutes later, he handed Brendon the diagram of the house he’d drawn. “I hope you’ll find this helpful,” he said. “When Lord Ross first came to live here, I came to stay with him and we would get terribly turned around. His guardian had a map drawn up.” Spencer gave Brendon a conspiratorial smile. “It would be best if you didn’t mention that to Lord Ross.”
Brendon smiled, a wide smile that softened his eyes and made him look impossibly younger. He looked down at the makeshift map, clearly pleased. “Yes, thank you,” he said, grinning to himself. He folded the diagram and set it beside him, almost reverently, as though Spencer had given him a gift.
Spencer settled back in his seat to finish his breakfast. He kept his eyes on Brendon, observing him, watching the way he moved. There was a restless energy in his movements, his foot tapping subconsciously against the floor, fingers drumming against the tabletop, something simmering just below the surface.
Spencer found the boy fascinating and he was looking forward to the opportunity to take him apart and figure out what made him tick.
At one point, as Brendon helped himself to a slice of toast, his shirtsleeve had ridden up his arm, revealing a narrow strip of brown leather, stark against the pale skin of his wrist, held in place with a silver buckle.
Spencer recognized it as one half of the pair he’d gone with Ryan to purchase several months ago when Brendon first came to stay with Ryan. Spencer had made the trip to the specialty shop many times with Ryan, always as a browser never as a customer, though he offered his opinion when Ryan asked. Spencer also knew that on the supple inside of the leather of each cuff would be Ryan’s seal.
This was the first chance Spencer had to see Ryan’s ownership so blatantly exposed and it immediately hit him hot and low in his gut, knowledge that Brendon belonged to Ryan, and Ryan had granted Spencer his permission. Spencer had had experience with borrowing Ryan’s possessions in the past, though it had been a long time since it had effected him so strongly.
Brendon looked up then, catching Spencer’s gaze. He flushed, his cheeks turning pink, but he didn’t look away as he tugged the hems of his shirt over his wrists.
Spencer reached across the empty seat between himself and Brendon, stilling his hand, fingers closing around Brendon’s wrist. Brendon froze, the unmistakeable sound of his breath catching loud in the quiet of the room.
Spencer raised a questioning eyebrow.
“Nothing, it’s nothing,” Brendon whispered, shaking his head, voice caught in his throat. He didn’t look away, he never once averted his eyes, even as Spencer pushed the hem of his sleeve up over the cuff, turning Brendon’s palm up, revealing the buckle.
Brendon’s breathing had grown shallow and he sat unmoving, waiting, his head bent forward slightly.
Spencer tilted his head in a question, all the permission he would be seeking, waiting for Brendon’s answer. Brendon’s eyes widened slightly and he nodded almost imperceptibly, the slightest tilt of his chin.
Spencer held Brendon’s eyes as he slipped his thumb beneath the buckle, pressing into the skin underneath, not hard, just touching. Brendon’s response was immediate, head bowing as he inhaled sharply, shoulders hunching as he looked away then, eyes falling to his lap in an unmistakeable gesture of submission.
“Beautiful,” Spencer whispered reverently. Brendon’s flush spread down his neck, staining his skin pink. Spencer rubbed his thumb over the soft flesh, once, twice, listening to the change in Brendon’s breathing.
Spencer forced himself to let go, focused on sitting back and keeping his hands to himself. His voice was unsteady when he said, “I trust I’ll be seeing you this evening.”
Brendon sat, head bent, eyes closed for a moment, as though composing himself and when he straightened, looking up at Spencer, his eyes were dark, heavy lidded. “Yes, sir,” he whispered.
* * *
Spencer found that the rest of the day passed by with interminable slowness. As the rain continued to fall with a steady beat against the windows, they were resigned to remain in doors, trying to find things with which to occupy their time.
Spencer found Brendon in the library, curled up in a chaise longue by the window, reading.
“Is it alright if I join you?” he asked quietly, careful not to startle him.
Brendon looked up, went slightly pink, before he nodded. “Please,” he said.
Spencer tried to devote his attention to his book, but found he’d rather watch Brendon. He seemed completely absorbed in what he was reading, his eyes focused, his face intent. He had a habit of chewing on his bottom lip as he read and Spencer found it difficult to tear his eyes away.
It wasn’t until he realized close to an hour had passed with him sitting there like a simpleton, just watching Brendon, that he forced himself to get up and find some other way to fill his time.
“I will see you this evening, Brendon,” Spencer said, meaning supper, though when Brendon looked up, there was a heat in his eyes that had nothing to do with mealtime hunger.
* * *
After supper, Spencer retreated immediately to his chambers, anticipating a wait. He was pleasantly surprised, however, when there was a knock at the door moments after he’d settled into his favorite chair by the window.
“Come in,” Spencer called, finding himself a little restless with anticipation. He was looking forward to this.
There was a pause and then the door opened and Brendon stood just inside the room, dressed as he’d been at supper, his hands curled at his sides as he stood, a little uncertainly, waiting.
“Good evening,” Spencer said, setting his book down. “You made it. Did you find my directions helpful?” Spencer said, a teasing tone to his voice.
Brendon cracked a small smile, some of the tension in his shoulders easing slightly. “Yes, sir, thank you.”
Spencer sat waiting, watching Brendon, watching the way he held himself still, trying not to show nerves. He realized, belatedly, that Brendon was waiting for him.
“You may come in, Brendon,” he said, nodding him in and trying not to look too much like he wanted to devour him.
Brendon took a noticeable breath and came forward, closing the doors behind him. That restless energy that Spencer found intriguing was simmering below the surface, waiting to be let out. Spencer had been counting on it.
Brendon came, walking with deliberate steps. He stopped before Spencer, hesitant, waiting.
Spencer nodded to the ottoman before him. Brendon let out a breath and sat down, fingers curled around his knees, one foot bouncing almost imperceptibly.
Spencer placed a hand over Brendon’s. “Brendon,” Spencer said, amused. And goodness, Spencer was so looking forward to this.
“Yes, sir, sorry,” Brendon mumbled, tilting his chin up slightly, shoulders going back as if forcing himself still.
Spencer curled his hand around Brendon’s, lacing their fingers together. “You’re nervous,” Spencer said, “I understand. I want you to listen to me carefully, Brendon.”
“Ryan brought you here to please him, that is your sole duty. As an extension of that, you are now meant to please me. However,” Spencer said, touching Brendon’s jaw gently, “it is more fun for me, Brendon, if you’re enjoying yourself.” Spencer rubbed his thumb across Brendon’s cheek. “If you don’t like something, now or any time during the month that I am here, I expect you to tell me.”
Brendon swallowed. “Yes, sir,” he said, voice barely above a whisper.
“Good,” Spencer agreed, leaning forward slightly. His lips curved in a slight smile and he lowered his voice to a murmur. “Now, if it is acceptable to you, I believe I’m going to kiss you.”
Brendon’s eyes went comically wide.
“Do you not enjoy kissing, Brendon?” Spencer said, amused, rubbing circles into the back of Brendon’s palm.
“No, that’s not -”, Brendon stopped, swallowed. “I mean, yes, I do. Please,” he said, leaning forward just slightly and waiting.
“Good,” Spencer said. “That’s good,” and he closed the space between them, touching his mouth to Brendon’s.
Brendon let out a sigh and his lips parted, his breath warm against Spencer’s mouth. He tasted sweet, something dark on his lips, a hint of the wine from earlier, maybe.
Spencer slid a hand into Brendon’s hair, tilting his head back just slightly, shifting the angle and deepening the press of their mouths.
Spencer slid his tongue along the seam of Brendon’s lips, felt a rush of heat when Brendon opened his mouth and let Spencer in.
“Come here,” Spencer breathed against Brendon’s mouth, one hand on the back of Brendon’s head, the other wrapping around Brendon’s wrist and pulling him up off the ottoman.
Spencer settled Brendon astride his knees, one hand bracing himself on the back of the chair, holding himself aloft. Brendon made a noise of pleasure that vibrated through Spencer, rumbled through him.
Spencer and Brendon had a month together, a month in which Spencer would learn what he could about Brendon, teach him things he himself had picked up on his visits to London. And this, Spencer realized, a palm flat on Brendon’s chest, this was something Brendon seemed to like. He kept shifting forward, thighs straining as he tried to get his hips closer, his pulse beating wildly against Spencer’s palm, his breathing labored. Brendon liked this, the kissing.
Spencer smiled slightly. A lifetime of friendship with Ryan had taught him nearly everything there was to know about him, and Ryan had little patience for the art of kissing. This, then, was something Spencer could do for Brendon, would enjoy doing.
Brendon had relaxed considerably, melting into Spencer, his arms draped over Spencer’s shoulders, fingers clutching at his back, hips moving in tiny, minute circles as if looking for a rhythm.
Spencer thought briefly about teasing Brendon, about holding back, giving him grief that of all the things he’d been taught in order to please Ryan, it was this slide of lips and tongue that seemed to get Brendon going. He thought better of it, though. There would be time enough later for teasing, for drawing it out and making Brendon work for it. For now, Spencer was enjoying the way Brendon felt against him, the sounds he made, the way he hung on to Spencer as if worried it would dissolve too soon.
Spencer didn’t get this nearly enough. He felt a little frantic with it, this need to get as much as he could now, almost forgetting that for an entire month this, Brendon, would be his. But Brendon belonged to Ryan, and it was in Spencer's best interest to remember that.
He forced himself to take a couple of deep breaths, to slow it down a little. He wasn’t some green school boy, he had enough knowledge and practice to make this last.
He broke the kiss and tangled his fingers in Brendon’s hair, tugging just enough to get him to pull back.
“Why don’t you get on your knees?” Spencer mumbled, voice a little rough as he pulled back. Brendon had a mouth meant for this, Ryan had told Spencer all about the skills Brendon had acquired in his time with Ryan, and Spencer was more than ready to experience them first hand.
Brendon nodded and dropped, a little unsteady, a little gracelessly.
Spencer opened his thighs a little, sliding lower in his seat, waiting. Brendon slid his eyes upwards, and Spencer understood he was looking to be told what to do.
“Use your hands,” Spencer instructed quietly, curling his own in the arms of the chair, holding himself still.
Brendon reached for Spencer, his slender fingers working the waist of Spencer’s breeches. Spencer was hard, though he’d been hard since arriving here, and Brendon’s hand was sure, warm, when he slid his palm inside, fingers curling around Spencer and pulling him out.
Spencer sighed and let his thighs fall further open, invitation for Brendon to shuffle forward, to use his mouth.
Brendon kept his hands to himself as he opened his mouth around Spencer. Spencer reached for one wrist, then the other, set Brendon’s hands on Spencer’s thighs.
Spencer realized quickly that if he let Brendon continue, this would be over all too soon. And he had other plans for this evening, as enjoyable as it would be to come in Brendon’s mouth.
“That’s enough,” Spencer whispered, struggling to hold back. He got to his feet, quickly shedding his clothes. Brendon was watching him, eyes wide, cheeks flushed. Spencer pulled him to his feet and helped him out of his own clothes, letting them fall to the floor and taking a step back to drink Brendon in, every inch of him, his slender hips, his strong thighs, the way his cock curved.
Spencer leaned in for a kiss, slid his mouth down his jaw, sucking a bruise into the skin.
Spencer walked him backwards towards the bed. “Lie down,” he told Brendon, pushing gently at his shoulder. “On your front.”
Brendon took a shaky breath and did as he was told, settling on his stomach against the pillows, arms folded beneath his cheek.
Brendon shifted restlessly, hips moving against the sheets and Spencer closed his eyes against the arousal that had him eager like he hadn’t been in years.
He settled on his knees on the bed, touched Brendon’s knee. “Open your legs,” Spencer directed quietly, pushing as Brendon did so.
Spencer placed his palm at the small of Brendon’s back. “I’m going to do something for you. If you don’t like it, tell me.”
Spencer touched the swell of Brendon’s bottom, pressed his palm flat and with his thumb spread him open so he was revealed, the small entrance to his body.
Brendon took a shuddering breath and seemed to dissolve further into the bed, visibly trying to relax.
Spencer leaned forward, pressed his lips to where his other palm was pressing Brendon into the covers, the dip of his spine before it curved.
He trailed his mouth lower, another kiss against Brendon’s skin, moving down the line of Brendon’s bottom. He used his tongue there, traced the path with the tip, then again with his tongue pressed flat, tasting Brendon’s skin, his warmth, feeling the vibrations beneath him as Brendon sighed and shuddered.
Spencer touched his thumb there, to Brendon’s hole, not pushing but feeling the way Brendon’s body reacted when Spencer touched him there. Spencer followed with his tongue, licked down to where his thumb was, back up, and down again, did it again and then again as Brendon took hitching breaths and tried to press his hips into the friction provided by the bed.
Spencer settled more of his weight on the hand on Brendon’s lower back, anchoring him still and used his tongue to push at the ring of muscle, seeking entrance. He felt Brendon go from tense, holding himself rigid, to boneless, relaxing limb by limb until he was completely loose, molded to the bed. Spencer pushed his tongue inside, licked inside the heat of Brendon’s body, listened to the sounds Brendon made, catalogued the way his body reacted to everything Spencer did.
Spencer reached below the bed for the wooden container he’d placed there earlier. He removed the lid deftly, covered a finger in warm, slick oil and settled himself back between Brendon’s thighs. He touched the tip of his index finger to that same place, this time pushing slightly, testing the resistance. He circled, waited for Brendon to relax, and pushed again, slightly harder, until Brendon’s body opened up, took him in. It was warm from the inside and Spencer stroked Brendon with that one finger, bent down to trace his tongue around it, lick again at the muscle there, crooked the tip of his finger until Brendon cried out, hips pushing back again.
Spencer withdrew his finger, replaced it with the tip of his thumb and pushed again, sliding into that heat.
He moved his thumb slightly, licked where it had been, traced the shape of that part of Brendon until Brendon’s breaths were coming faster and he was pushing back against Spencer’s hand, against the weight holding him down, trying to get more.
Spencer wrapped his palm around himself, tightened his grip to keep from spilling all over the sheets. This was not how he wanted to come, this time it was going to be inside the heat of Brendon's body.
But it was damn hard with the sounds Brendon was making, the way his body moved like he couldn't help himself, as though the pleasure Spencer was giving him was too much to bear.
He moved up the bed, covering Brendon’s body with his own, pressing kisses to Brendon’s skin as he went, his thumb still working inside Brendon.
"I don't know where Ryan found you," Spencer muttered to himself, digging his teeth into the sensitive part of Brendon's shoulder, causing Brendon to arch up and back, crying out. What Spencer didn't say out loud was the regret he could feel growing in the pit of his stomach that Ryan had gotten here before him, jealousy even, that Ryan could have this when Spencer's position and condition kept him from indulging like this with someone like Brendon.
Spencer crooked his thumb, pressing sharply against the part of Brendon that made his hips buck. "Don't, ah-ah!" Brendon cried out, shaking and jerking before he went completely still.
The shock and heat hit Spencer simultaneously, that Brendon had come from that alone, from Spencer's teeth on his skin and his thumb inside him.
Brendon was breathing hard, taking deep, ragged breaths. He turned his face into the pillow, his shoulders shaking and his hips jerking still, through the aftermath.
"Don't," Spencer said roughly, shifting to the side, pressing his body alongside Brendon's. He cupped Brendon's chin between two fingers. "Look at me."
Brendon shook his head, panting into the pillows.
Spencer pushed his hand into the sweat damp hair at the nape of Brendon's flushed neck, curled his fingers and tugged, just enough to catch Brendon's attention. "I said look at me," Spencer said, his tone going ridiculously gentle.
Brendon's face was red, sweat at his temple. His eyes were glassy and heavy lidded when he obeyed, looking at Spencer. His full bottom lip was blood red, bruised from his teeth.
"You're embarrassed," Spencer observed, touching his thumb to Brendon's lip. Brendon hissed, shuddering, but he nodded.
"Why?" Spencer touched the inside of Brendon’s lip, the plush fullness and stifled a groan.
Brendon made a face. "Ryan," Brendon mumbled. "He - likes to make me wait. To hold out as long as he wants. I was getting better," he sighed, pressing his cheek into the pillow and closing his eyes for a moment.
Spencer put a gentle hand on Brendon's hip and rolled him to his back. Brendon's cock was sticky and soft, belly and thighs wet with it too. Spencer touched Brendon's knee, got him to open his thighs and settled between them.
"I know you're tired," Spencer soothed, a teasing note in his tone. "It's okay, close your eyes, take a rest."
Brendon flushed and turned his face as Spencer leaned forward to press his mouth to the flat of Brendon's stomach, where the flushed skin was sticky with his release. He trailed his tongue up the skin, gathering the salt of it on his tongue.
Brendon shook a little, thighs trembling as Spencer did it again, moving lower, down to the streaks on Brendon's thighs, the one high up on the crease. Spencer licked it up, moved his mouth over Brendon's skin, back up to his cock. Spencer licked it all up, listening to the faint noises escaping Brendon's mouth, and took the head between his lips, sucking at it.
Brendon got a little frantic, over-sensitized, pushed at Spencer's head, trying to get him to move off. Spencer ignored him, sucked at it until he could feel Brendon start to harden again.
He pulled off and knelt back between Brendon’s spread legs, taking him in. Brendon was completely naked against the sheets save for the leather around his wrists. Spencer’s eyes settled on the cuffs.
He moved off the bed in search of the belt he’d been wearing earlier. When he returned, he nudged Brendon further up the bed to settle against the pillows.
“Give me your hands,” Spencer told Brendon quietly.
Brendon’s breath caught in his chest and his eyes went dark. “Yes, sir,” he whispered, swallowing. He held his hands out to Spencer.
Spencer threaded the length of leather through one buckle, then the other. He secured it in a makeshift hold around the bedpost, requiring Brendon be spread out diagonally across the bed. Spencer gathered both of Brendon's wrists in his hand and tugged, feeling the security of the bonds.
Spencer moved back between Brendon's thighs. Brendon's eyes were closed, his breathing shallow, Spencer could make out the tension in the muscles in his arms, his shoulders. His cock was red and wet at the tip, curved up to press against his stomach.
Spencer pushed his fingers through the pot of oil and and covered himself, careful not to touch too much for fear he'd come from the sight of Brendon alone, spread out for him.
Spencer pushed his thumb back inside Brendon, replaced it with one finger until Brendon was shifting into it, added another and moved them back and forth, working Brendon open.
Spencer settled on his knees. He gripped the back of Brendon's thigh, pushed it towards his stomach and reached up to curl his fingers in Brendon's hair, forcing him to open his eyes.
"Look at me," Spencer breathed as he nudged against Brendon. Brendon's breath caught as Spencer pushed, both of them tense as Spencer worked the head of his cock, pushing at the tight muscle and waiting for Brendon's body to give.
Spencer moved slowly, watching Brendon as he pushed inside until he was all the way in, hips flush against Brendon's, and stayed like that until he felt like he could move without exploding.
Brendon's back arched up, causing his shoulders to pull back from the bonds securing him, and he cried out as the angle changed, hips forced up.
When Spencer spilled, it was sudden and forceful and stars spiked bright and colorful behind his eyelids.
Spencer held himself still, trying to get his breath back. His eyes settled on Brendon who had his head back, breathing hard, his hands clenched into fists.
“Okay, it’s okay,” Spencer soothed, wrapping a palm around Brendon as he pulled out. Brendon made a sound low in his throat, shifting restlessly, clearly seeking release.
Spencer put his palm on Brendon’s stomach, holding him still, and settled on his knees between Brendon’s splayed thighs.
Brendon arched up with a shudder as Spencer opened his mouth and took Brendon in, lips closing around him. Spencer pushed a finger inside, and then a second as he worked Brendon with his mouth. It didn’t take long for Brendon to let go, and he
came with a cry, hot and sudden in Spencer's mouth. Spencer took it all, his free hand pressed flat to Brendon's stomach to feel the muscle flutter there.
Spencer deftly undid the bonds, letting Brendon test his muscles cautiously. Brendon's breathing was rough and he was watching Spencer, eyes sleepy and heavy lidded, teeth digging nervously into his bottom lip.
Spencer's stood up abruptly, got to unsteady feet. He went into the other room and came back with a basin of water and a cloth. He settled between Brendon's legs again, wetting the cloth.
Spencer moved it gently over Brendon's skin. "Shh, let me," Spencer said, smiling slightly as Brendon made a sleepy noise of protest. He pushed Brendon's thigh to the bed, exposing him and making Brendon blush bright red. Spencer wet the cloth again in the water and moved it over Brendon's thighs, and then gently cleaned Brendon.
Spencer set the basin aside and settled in next to Brendon, kissed his mouth open even as Brendon sighed sleepily and shuffled in close.
Spencer/Brendon, Brendon/Ryan
NC17
6600+ words
Regency AU
D/s themes, use of restraints, slavery/ownership
Summary: Brendon belonged to Ryan, and it was in Spencer's best interest to remember that.
Notes: Written for disarm_d for the bandomstuffsit exchange.
Spencer Smith, Viscount Whitleaf, was in a mood. The weather, a ghastly combination of numbing wind and steady rainfall, had added an hour to the journey from his home in Barton to Ellenbrook, seat of his Lordship, Ryan Ross, the Earl of Wallingford.
Spencer had little patience for carriages, he'd much have preferred to go on horseback, or ideally, in his curricle, but this time around he planned to be at Ellenbrook for a month, and going by carriage was a necessity.
By the time the horses began to make the ascent towards Ross's estate, Spencer was beginning to feel the effects of the journey, claustrophobia creeping in to settle alongside the bone-deep chill from the rain. He was looking forward to warming himself in Ross’s rooms with a strong drink.
He didn't bother waiting for the driver to open the door for him once the carriage had come to a stop.
"If I never see the inside of a carriage for as long as I live," Spencer muttered to his valet as he climbed out and set unsteady feet on solid ground, not bothering to finish the thought.
"Smith!" Spencer turned automatically at the sound of Lord Ross's voice and felt some of his mood begin to shift. Ryan was coming down the steps, oblivious to the chill and rain, a wide smile spreading across his face.
Spencer schooled his expression, a stern set to his mouth, though it lasted until Ryan held out a hand.
"Smith, so good to see you, thank you for coming," Ryan said with a gleam in his eyes.
"Never mind that," Spencer said curtly, though he couldn't help the small smile as he curled his palm around Ryan's, pulling him in for an embrace that would have raised eyebrows had they not known each other practically since birth, closer than brothers they'd been for nearly twenty-two years.
"Come, let's go inside," Ryan said, nodding instruction to Spencer's driver. "It's damn cold out here."
Spencer followed Ryan inside the house he'd inherited at the young age of sixteen. "It's been too long, Spence," Ryan said, ushering Spencer into a parlor where a fire had been lit in the grate, the room flooded in a warm, inviting glow.
Spencer bit back his laugh as he settled into a high backed chair opposite the heat presented by the fire. "It's been less than a month," Spencer said, nodding his thanks as a young woman entered with a tray of tea.
"Yes, far too long," Ryan said, smiling slightly as he settled in across from Spencer.
Spencer felt his mood begin to lighten as he and Ryan caught each other up on the events of their lives in the weeks since they’d last been together.
The tea warmed him and Ryan’s stories about his new boy cheered him and he could feel himself slowly relaxing.
Ryan was in the middle of a particularly raunchy tale involving Brendon, his latest companion, when the doors to the parlor opened.
“Speak of the devil,” Ryan said with a dirty grin. He gestured to the young man who’d just come in.
“Brendon,” Ryan said, motioning him forward. “Come meet my oldest and dearest friend.”
Spencer got to his feet and watched as the young man made his way into the room. He was slight, considerably smaller than Spencer and built not unlike a woman, with wide hips and a lush rear end that brought the filthiest thoughts to mind.
"Smith," Ryan said, nodding to Brendon and looking at him with darkened eyes.
Brendon had a book clasped between his hands and he was smiling slightly as he came to stand beside Ryan, who remained sitting and curled a possessive hand around Brendon’s hip.
“I’d like to introduce you to Brendon," Ryan gestured to their guest. "My, ah - cousin," Ryan said with a smirk.
"Brendon,” Spencer said, stepping towards Brendon and offering his hand. “It’s a pleasure to meet you."
Brendon’s palm was warm, his skin soft, when he curled his hand around Spencer’s own, not so much shaking as holding. He had large, brown eyes, a wide pink mouth and pale skin. There was something slightly mischievous in his eyes, something just below the surface as though he was reigning himself in. Spencer was most looking forward to coaxing him loose.
Brendon held Spencer’s gaze as he said in a low, soft voice, "the pleasure is mine," with just the slightest hint of flirtation. His eyes were soft at the corners, his pink mouth turned up as he laughed slightly.
“Ryan has told me much about you,” Spencer told Brendon as he sat back down, letting his eyes slide over Brendon in an entirely inappropriate manner that Spencer never would have risked had it not been the three of them alone in Ryan’s manor.
Ryan wrapped a hand around Brendon’s wrist and tugged so that Brendon was hunched, leaning over Ryan. Ryan tilted his chin up, leaning in close, and whispered something in Brendon's ear.
Brendon's face turned a becoming shade of pink but his smile grew broader. "Yes, sir," he said, his voice dropping slightly. "If you'll excuse me, Lord Smith,” Brendon straightened and turned towards Spencer, bowing slightly. “It was good to meet you. I'm sure I'll be seeing much more of you." He turned and Spencer watched the pleasing curve of his ass as he let himself out, shutting the door quietly behind him.
Spencer watched him go, momentarily at a loss for words. He had learned all about Brendon through Ryan on their last visit together, had been treated to many stories regarding their dalliances together, and still Spencer had not been expecting this.
“True,” Ryan had said a month ago, when they were in London together at Ryan’s house on Grosvenor Square, “he was woefully unskilled and green for what I paid for him, though his, er - studies have been most entertaining. For both of us.”
“I’m sure you must have imagined him with your mind,” Spencer said now with a laugh, reaching for his tea and raising an eyebrow at Ryan.
Ryan sat looking smug and incredibly pleased with himself. “Yes, he seems almost too good to be true, doesn’t he?”
“Yes, but you needn’t rub it in,” Spencer said wryly. He had a fair amount of experience with Ryan’s distant cousins, young men that came to live with Ryan under the pretense of being long lost family until Ryan had moved on and gotten restless.
"I've always admired your gall," Spencer said, smiling affectionately at Ryan.
Ryan had always had difficulty following rules, particularly those set forth by society. Tongues liked to wag every time a new cousin came to stay with Ryan, though Ryan had both the wealth and the status that allowed for most of the gossip to bounce off him with nary a scratch on his social standing, though he took great delight in the stories of his reputation.
Spencer had long entertained fantasies of following Ryan’s example, though he wasn’t in a position that he could be so careless with his own reputation.
And so, Ryan had dreamt up these sojourns, and invited Spencer to come and look after the estate and other matters while Ryan was away or abroad, doing whatever it was Ryan liked to do.
A letter of request that Spencer come and manage Ryan’s affairs while Ryan was away from Ellenbrook was far more acceptable for someone of Spencer’s upbringing and position than simply jaunting away to make use of Ryan’s amusements without any explanation. Particularly given he had two younger sisters who would be making their debuts in London in the coming season and Spencer couldn’t afford a scandal if he intended to have his sisters marry well. He had hopes that both his sisters would make advantageous matches and any mutterings about his activities while he was away from Waverly would be damaging to their chances. He didn’t have the luxury of thumbing his nose at polite society the way Ryan, who had no brothers or sisters and therefore no charges to consider, chose to.
These respites from his duties and responsibilities at Waverly were few and far between. Spencer was looking forward to taking advantage of everything Ryan was offering.
“Well,” Ryan said then, getting to his feet. “I am due in London by nightfall, and with this weather I think it’s best if I be on my way.”
Brendon joined them in the entryway while they waited for Ryan’s valet and driver to pull the carriage around.
“There you are,” Ryan said when he saw Brendon. He touched Brendon’s hip and leaned in closer.
“Before I leave,” he said, dropping his voice, “I’d like a word in private, if you will.”
Spencer averted his eyes as Brendon nodded and followed Ryan down the hall towards the library. Spencer pointedly made a show of admiring one of the portraits hanging in the entrance as he waited, doing his best not to imagine any of the number of things that could be taking place.
Much too long passed to be considered proper before they reappeared, Ryan looking unaffected and composed, Brendon looking flushed and ill-kempt, his mouth slightly askew and used looking, his trousers sitting a little haphazardly on his hips.
Ryan’s valet appeared with his overcoat and helped Ryan into it.
“Thank you,” Ryan said, and took a step towards Brendon, reaching for him, a hand on his wrist.
“I trust you’ll be good for Spencer,” Ryan said, lips brushing Brendon’s ear, just low enough for Spencer to hear. “He is my oldest friend, and I know you’ll show him the same respect and care you show me.”
“Yes, sir,” Brendon whispered, his face flushed. He shifted a little, feet shuffling against the floor. “I’ll do my best.”
Ryan smiled then, pure affection in it. “I know you will,” he assured Brendon.
Ryan turned to Spencer. “You know how to get in touch with me should you need to. However,” Ryan said, grinning wickedly, “I don’t anticipate you needing to.”
Spencer bit back his retort. “Enjoy your travels, Ross,” he said, rolling his eyes just slightly.
Ryan grinned. “I plan to.”
* * *
Spencer spent most of the day doing his best to keep his mind busy. He secluded himself in Ryan’s study to go over the books, making note of the things Ryan had asked his opinion on. He was restless, his skin tight with anticipation. It had been a month since his last visit to London, since the last time he’d let himself partake in pleasures of the carnal sort and he was feeling the itch, particularly knowing that Brendon was around somewhere and would be coming to him later.
That evening, however, Spencer waited in his chambers for Brendon, waited with growing impatience and restlessness. After an hour or so of pretending to read one of the many considerable volumes he’d brought with him, he resigned himself to the fact that Brendon wouldn’t be coming to him this evening and took himself in hand. It didn’t take long, worked up as he was and while it sated him, it wasn’t nearly as satisfying as if he’d had Brendon beneath him.
In the morning, when Brendon joined him for breakfast, Spencer said, “I was surprised not to see you last night,” watching Brendon’s face as he did so.
Brendon went still, going tense. He looked over at Spencer, his eyes wide, surprised. “You were? I’m sorry sir, please, I was waiting for you.” He looked genuinely apologetic, startled by Spencer’s admission. “Ryan, Ryan always comes to me, to my chambers.”
“I see,” Spencer said with a nod. “Always in your chambers only?”
Brendon nodded, a look of chagrin in his eyes that Spencer hadn’t intended to put there.
“Brendon,” Spencer kept his tone firm, even, “while I am here, it will be up to you to come to me. Is that understood?”
Brendon looked down. “Yes, sir, I’m sorry,” he mumbled.
Spencer reached across the space between them and touched Brendon’s shirtsleeve. “Brendon, you misunderstand me.” He waited for Brendon to look up from his plate. “I am not chastising you, it is not my intention that you feel as though I am upset. I am merely explaining what you can expect from me in the time that I am here. Is that clear?”
“Yes, sir, my apologies, it won’t happen again.”
“If it is not your wish to come to me,” Spencer said quietly, “then I will not expect you to do so.”
Brendon shook his head. “No, sir, that is not the case. I will come to you this evening.” He paused, as if there was more he wanted to say.
Spencer smiled slightly. “Go on, you can speak your mind with me, Brendon, that I can guarantee.”
Brendon hesitated. “Well, it’s just that - I do what Ryan tells me.” There was something in the way he said it, the slight gleam in his eyes, pride at the admission.
Spencer raised an eyebrow and sat back in his chair, unexpectedly pleased. “Oh?”
Brendon nodded, flushing slightly, but clearly proud that where Ryan was concerned he was obedient.
“And what, may I ask, were Lord Ross’s instructions concerning me?”
Brendon looked up, eyes on Spencer’s. “Simply, sir, to please you.”
Spencer’s smile widened, unsurprised. “I think that shouldn’t be a problem, Brendon,” Spencer told him. “I don’t think that will be a problem in the slightest.”
And yet, once again that evening, Spencer was left waiting for Brendon and when he didn’t show, was forced to take matters into his own hands again.
However, far from raising his ire, it served only to heighten the anticipation and as he stroked himself, eyes closed, he pictured Brendon in his bed, beneath him, pictured the things they would do together.
The following morning, Brendon was waiting in the dining room, already dressed and seated for breakfast, when Spencer came down.
“Don’t be mad, please,” Brendon said hastily when he saw Spencer, getting to his feet. His words tumbled out in a rush. “I went to your chambers last night, well I tried to, but I’ve only ever been in my part of the house and I got turned around. I got lost,” he said, frowning at himself.
Spencer stopped in his tracks, surprised by Brendon’s apparent remorse. He held up a hand. Once he was seated, settled back in his chair, he gestured for Brendon to continue, eyes sliding slowly over Brendon, watching as Brendon struggled to keep from fidgeting.
“Yes,” Brendon insisted, somewhat urgently. “I’m sorry, sir, my Lord. This place is much too large and confusing, I get all turned around.”
“This has happened before?” Spencer prompted, waiting.
Brendon looked sheepish. “Yes, sir, when I first came to stay here, Ryan - Lord Ross, instructed me to meet him at the library every morning at eleven. It wasn’t until the fifth day that I was on time. Ry - Lord Ross was very displeased.” Brendon’s face was red, remembering.
“I see,” Spencer said. “Well clearly, something must be done about this,” Spencer insisted, getting to his feet. “If you’ll excuse me.”
He removed himself to the library and when he came back several minutes later, he handed Brendon the diagram of the house he’d drawn. “I hope you’ll find this helpful,” he said. “When Lord Ross first came to live here, I came to stay with him and we would get terribly turned around. His guardian had a map drawn up.” Spencer gave Brendon a conspiratorial smile. “It would be best if you didn’t mention that to Lord Ross.”
Brendon smiled, a wide smile that softened his eyes and made him look impossibly younger. He looked down at the makeshift map, clearly pleased. “Yes, thank you,” he said, grinning to himself. He folded the diagram and set it beside him, almost reverently, as though Spencer had given him a gift.
Spencer settled back in his seat to finish his breakfast. He kept his eyes on Brendon, observing him, watching the way he moved. There was a restless energy in his movements, his foot tapping subconsciously against the floor, fingers drumming against the tabletop, something simmering just below the surface.
Spencer found the boy fascinating and he was looking forward to the opportunity to take him apart and figure out what made him tick.
At one point, as Brendon helped himself to a slice of toast, his shirtsleeve had ridden up his arm, revealing a narrow strip of brown leather, stark against the pale skin of his wrist, held in place with a silver buckle.
Spencer recognized it as one half of the pair he’d gone with Ryan to purchase several months ago when Brendon first came to stay with Ryan. Spencer had made the trip to the specialty shop many times with Ryan, always as a browser never as a customer, though he offered his opinion when Ryan asked. Spencer also knew that on the supple inside of the leather of each cuff would be Ryan’s seal.
This was the first chance Spencer had to see Ryan’s ownership so blatantly exposed and it immediately hit him hot and low in his gut, knowledge that Brendon belonged to Ryan, and Ryan had granted Spencer his permission. Spencer had had experience with borrowing Ryan’s possessions in the past, though it had been a long time since it had effected him so strongly.
Brendon looked up then, catching Spencer’s gaze. He flushed, his cheeks turning pink, but he didn’t look away as he tugged the hems of his shirt over his wrists.
Spencer reached across the empty seat between himself and Brendon, stilling his hand, fingers closing around Brendon’s wrist. Brendon froze, the unmistakeable sound of his breath catching loud in the quiet of the room.
Spencer raised a questioning eyebrow.
“Nothing, it’s nothing,” Brendon whispered, shaking his head, voice caught in his throat. He didn’t look away, he never once averted his eyes, even as Spencer pushed the hem of his sleeve up over the cuff, turning Brendon’s palm up, revealing the buckle.
Brendon’s breathing had grown shallow and he sat unmoving, waiting, his head bent forward slightly.
Spencer tilted his head in a question, all the permission he would be seeking, waiting for Brendon’s answer. Brendon’s eyes widened slightly and he nodded almost imperceptibly, the slightest tilt of his chin.
Spencer held Brendon’s eyes as he slipped his thumb beneath the buckle, pressing into the skin underneath, not hard, just touching. Brendon’s response was immediate, head bowing as he inhaled sharply, shoulders hunching as he looked away then, eyes falling to his lap in an unmistakeable gesture of submission.
“Beautiful,” Spencer whispered reverently. Brendon’s flush spread down his neck, staining his skin pink. Spencer rubbed his thumb over the soft flesh, once, twice, listening to the change in Brendon’s breathing.
Spencer forced himself to let go, focused on sitting back and keeping his hands to himself. His voice was unsteady when he said, “I trust I’ll be seeing you this evening.”
Brendon sat, head bent, eyes closed for a moment, as though composing himself and when he straightened, looking up at Spencer, his eyes were dark, heavy lidded. “Yes, sir,” he whispered.
* * *
Spencer found that the rest of the day passed by with interminable slowness. As the rain continued to fall with a steady beat against the windows, they were resigned to remain in doors, trying to find things with which to occupy their time.
Spencer found Brendon in the library, curled up in a chaise longue by the window, reading.
“Is it alright if I join you?” he asked quietly, careful not to startle him.
Brendon looked up, went slightly pink, before he nodded. “Please,” he said.
Spencer tried to devote his attention to his book, but found he’d rather watch Brendon. He seemed completely absorbed in what he was reading, his eyes focused, his face intent. He had a habit of chewing on his bottom lip as he read and Spencer found it difficult to tear his eyes away.
It wasn’t until he realized close to an hour had passed with him sitting there like a simpleton, just watching Brendon, that he forced himself to get up and find some other way to fill his time.
“I will see you this evening, Brendon,” Spencer said, meaning supper, though when Brendon looked up, there was a heat in his eyes that had nothing to do with mealtime hunger.
* * *
After supper, Spencer retreated immediately to his chambers, anticipating a wait. He was pleasantly surprised, however, when there was a knock at the door moments after he’d settled into his favorite chair by the window.
“Come in,” Spencer called, finding himself a little restless with anticipation. He was looking forward to this.
There was a pause and then the door opened and Brendon stood just inside the room, dressed as he’d been at supper, his hands curled at his sides as he stood, a little uncertainly, waiting.
“Good evening,” Spencer said, setting his book down. “You made it. Did you find my directions helpful?” Spencer said, a teasing tone to his voice.
Brendon cracked a small smile, some of the tension in his shoulders easing slightly. “Yes, sir, thank you.”
Spencer sat waiting, watching Brendon, watching the way he held himself still, trying not to show nerves. He realized, belatedly, that Brendon was waiting for him.
“You may come in, Brendon,” he said, nodding him in and trying not to look too much like he wanted to devour him.
Brendon took a noticeable breath and came forward, closing the doors behind him. That restless energy that Spencer found intriguing was simmering below the surface, waiting to be let out. Spencer had been counting on it.
Brendon came, walking with deliberate steps. He stopped before Spencer, hesitant, waiting.
Spencer nodded to the ottoman before him. Brendon let out a breath and sat down, fingers curled around his knees, one foot bouncing almost imperceptibly.
Spencer placed a hand over Brendon’s. “Brendon,” Spencer said, amused. And goodness, Spencer was so looking forward to this.
“Yes, sir, sorry,” Brendon mumbled, tilting his chin up slightly, shoulders going back as if forcing himself still.
Spencer curled his hand around Brendon’s, lacing their fingers together. “You’re nervous,” Spencer said, “I understand. I want you to listen to me carefully, Brendon.”
“Ryan brought you here to please him, that is your sole duty. As an extension of that, you are now meant to please me. However,” Spencer said, touching Brendon’s jaw gently, “it is more fun for me, Brendon, if you’re enjoying yourself.” Spencer rubbed his thumb across Brendon’s cheek. “If you don’t like something, now or any time during the month that I am here, I expect you to tell me.”
Brendon swallowed. “Yes, sir,” he said, voice barely above a whisper.
“Good,” Spencer agreed, leaning forward slightly. His lips curved in a slight smile and he lowered his voice to a murmur. “Now, if it is acceptable to you, I believe I’m going to kiss you.”
Brendon’s eyes went comically wide.
“Do you not enjoy kissing, Brendon?” Spencer said, amused, rubbing circles into the back of Brendon’s palm.
“No, that’s not -”, Brendon stopped, swallowed. “I mean, yes, I do. Please,” he said, leaning forward just slightly and waiting.
“Good,” Spencer said. “That’s good,” and he closed the space between them, touching his mouth to Brendon’s.
Brendon let out a sigh and his lips parted, his breath warm against Spencer’s mouth. He tasted sweet, something dark on his lips, a hint of the wine from earlier, maybe.
Spencer slid a hand into Brendon’s hair, tilting his head back just slightly, shifting the angle and deepening the press of their mouths.
Spencer slid his tongue along the seam of Brendon’s lips, felt a rush of heat when Brendon opened his mouth and let Spencer in.
“Come here,” Spencer breathed against Brendon’s mouth, one hand on the back of Brendon’s head, the other wrapping around Brendon’s wrist and pulling him up off the ottoman.
Spencer settled Brendon astride his knees, one hand bracing himself on the back of the chair, holding himself aloft. Brendon made a noise of pleasure that vibrated through Spencer, rumbled through him.
Spencer and Brendon had a month together, a month in which Spencer would learn what he could about Brendon, teach him things he himself had picked up on his visits to London. And this, Spencer realized, a palm flat on Brendon’s chest, this was something Brendon seemed to like. He kept shifting forward, thighs straining as he tried to get his hips closer, his pulse beating wildly against Spencer’s palm, his breathing labored. Brendon liked this, the kissing.
Spencer smiled slightly. A lifetime of friendship with Ryan had taught him nearly everything there was to know about him, and Ryan had little patience for the art of kissing. This, then, was something Spencer could do for Brendon, would enjoy doing.
Brendon had relaxed considerably, melting into Spencer, his arms draped over Spencer’s shoulders, fingers clutching at his back, hips moving in tiny, minute circles as if looking for a rhythm.
Spencer thought briefly about teasing Brendon, about holding back, giving him grief that of all the things he’d been taught in order to please Ryan, it was this slide of lips and tongue that seemed to get Brendon going. He thought better of it, though. There would be time enough later for teasing, for drawing it out and making Brendon work for it. For now, Spencer was enjoying the way Brendon felt against him, the sounds he made, the way he hung on to Spencer as if worried it would dissolve too soon.
Spencer didn’t get this nearly enough. He felt a little frantic with it, this need to get as much as he could now, almost forgetting that for an entire month this, Brendon, would be his. But Brendon belonged to Ryan, and it was in Spencer's best interest to remember that.
He forced himself to take a couple of deep breaths, to slow it down a little. He wasn’t some green school boy, he had enough knowledge and practice to make this last.
He broke the kiss and tangled his fingers in Brendon’s hair, tugging just enough to get him to pull back.
“Why don’t you get on your knees?” Spencer mumbled, voice a little rough as he pulled back. Brendon had a mouth meant for this, Ryan had told Spencer all about the skills Brendon had acquired in his time with Ryan, and Spencer was more than ready to experience them first hand.
Brendon nodded and dropped, a little unsteady, a little gracelessly.
Spencer opened his thighs a little, sliding lower in his seat, waiting. Brendon slid his eyes upwards, and Spencer understood he was looking to be told what to do.
“Use your hands,” Spencer instructed quietly, curling his own in the arms of the chair, holding himself still.
Brendon reached for Spencer, his slender fingers working the waist of Spencer’s breeches. Spencer was hard, though he’d been hard since arriving here, and Brendon’s hand was sure, warm, when he slid his palm inside, fingers curling around Spencer and pulling him out.
Spencer sighed and let his thighs fall further open, invitation for Brendon to shuffle forward, to use his mouth.
Brendon kept his hands to himself as he opened his mouth around Spencer. Spencer reached for one wrist, then the other, set Brendon’s hands on Spencer’s thighs.
Spencer realized quickly that if he let Brendon continue, this would be over all too soon. And he had other plans for this evening, as enjoyable as it would be to come in Brendon’s mouth.
“That’s enough,” Spencer whispered, struggling to hold back. He got to his feet, quickly shedding his clothes. Brendon was watching him, eyes wide, cheeks flushed. Spencer pulled him to his feet and helped him out of his own clothes, letting them fall to the floor and taking a step back to drink Brendon in, every inch of him, his slender hips, his strong thighs, the way his cock curved.
Spencer leaned in for a kiss, slid his mouth down his jaw, sucking a bruise into the skin.
Spencer walked him backwards towards the bed. “Lie down,” he told Brendon, pushing gently at his shoulder. “On your front.”
Brendon took a shaky breath and did as he was told, settling on his stomach against the pillows, arms folded beneath his cheek.
Brendon shifted restlessly, hips moving against the sheets and Spencer closed his eyes against the arousal that had him eager like he hadn’t been in years.
He settled on his knees on the bed, touched Brendon’s knee. “Open your legs,” Spencer directed quietly, pushing as Brendon did so.
Spencer placed his palm at the small of Brendon’s back. “I’m going to do something for you. If you don’t like it, tell me.”
Spencer touched the swell of Brendon’s bottom, pressed his palm flat and with his thumb spread him open so he was revealed, the small entrance to his body.
Brendon took a shuddering breath and seemed to dissolve further into the bed, visibly trying to relax.
Spencer leaned forward, pressed his lips to where his other palm was pressing Brendon into the covers, the dip of his spine before it curved.
He trailed his mouth lower, another kiss against Brendon’s skin, moving down the line of Brendon’s bottom. He used his tongue there, traced the path with the tip, then again with his tongue pressed flat, tasting Brendon’s skin, his warmth, feeling the vibrations beneath him as Brendon sighed and shuddered.
Spencer touched his thumb there, to Brendon’s hole, not pushing but feeling the way Brendon’s body reacted when Spencer touched him there. Spencer followed with his tongue, licked down to where his thumb was, back up, and down again, did it again and then again as Brendon took hitching breaths and tried to press his hips into the friction provided by the bed.
Spencer settled more of his weight on the hand on Brendon’s lower back, anchoring him still and used his tongue to push at the ring of muscle, seeking entrance. He felt Brendon go from tense, holding himself rigid, to boneless, relaxing limb by limb until he was completely loose, molded to the bed. Spencer pushed his tongue inside, licked inside the heat of Brendon’s body, listened to the sounds Brendon made, catalogued the way his body reacted to everything Spencer did.
Spencer reached below the bed for the wooden container he’d placed there earlier. He removed the lid deftly, covered a finger in warm, slick oil and settled himself back between Brendon’s thighs. He touched the tip of his index finger to that same place, this time pushing slightly, testing the resistance. He circled, waited for Brendon to relax, and pushed again, slightly harder, until Brendon’s body opened up, took him in. It was warm from the inside and Spencer stroked Brendon with that one finger, bent down to trace his tongue around it, lick again at the muscle there, crooked the tip of his finger until Brendon cried out, hips pushing back again.
Spencer withdrew his finger, replaced it with the tip of his thumb and pushed again, sliding into that heat.
He moved his thumb slightly, licked where it had been, traced the shape of that part of Brendon until Brendon’s breaths were coming faster and he was pushing back against Spencer’s hand, against the weight holding him down, trying to get more.
Spencer wrapped his palm around himself, tightened his grip to keep from spilling all over the sheets. This was not how he wanted to come, this time it was going to be inside the heat of Brendon's body.
But it was damn hard with the sounds Brendon was making, the way his body moved like he couldn't help himself, as though the pleasure Spencer was giving him was too much to bear.
He moved up the bed, covering Brendon’s body with his own, pressing kisses to Brendon’s skin as he went, his thumb still working inside Brendon.
"I don't know where Ryan found you," Spencer muttered to himself, digging his teeth into the sensitive part of Brendon's shoulder, causing Brendon to arch up and back, crying out. What Spencer didn't say out loud was the regret he could feel growing in the pit of his stomach that Ryan had gotten here before him, jealousy even, that Ryan could have this when Spencer's position and condition kept him from indulging like this with someone like Brendon.
Spencer crooked his thumb, pressing sharply against the part of Brendon that made his hips buck. "Don't, ah-ah!" Brendon cried out, shaking and jerking before he went completely still.
The shock and heat hit Spencer simultaneously, that Brendon had come from that alone, from Spencer's teeth on his skin and his thumb inside him.
Brendon was breathing hard, taking deep, ragged breaths. He turned his face into the pillow, his shoulders shaking and his hips jerking still, through the aftermath.
"Don't," Spencer said roughly, shifting to the side, pressing his body alongside Brendon's. He cupped Brendon's chin between two fingers. "Look at me."
Brendon shook his head, panting into the pillows.
Spencer pushed his hand into the sweat damp hair at the nape of Brendon's flushed neck, curled his fingers and tugged, just enough to catch Brendon's attention. "I said look at me," Spencer said, his tone going ridiculously gentle.
Brendon's face was red, sweat at his temple. His eyes were glassy and heavy lidded when he obeyed, looking at Spencer. His full bottom lip was blood red, bruised from his teeth.
"You're embarrassed," Spencer observed, touching his thumb to Brendon's lip. Brendon hissed, shuddering, but he nodded.
"Why?" Spencer touched the inside of Brendon’s lip, the plush fullness and stifled a groan.
Brendon made a face. "Ryan," Brendon mumbled. "He - likes to make me wait. To hold out as long as he wants. I was getting better," he sighed, pressing his cheek into the pillow and closing his eyes for a moment.
Spencer put a gentle hand on Brendon's hip and rolled him to his back. Brendon's cock was sticky and soft, belly and thighs wet with it too. Spencer touched Brendon's knee, got him to open his thighs and settled between them.
"I know you're tired," Spencer soothed, a teasing note in his tone. "It's okay, close your eyes, take a rest."
Brendon flushed and turned his face as Spencer leaned forward to press his mouth to the flat of Brendon's stomach, where the flushed skin was sticky with his release. He trailed his tongue up the skin, gathering the salt of it on his tongue.
Brendon shook a little, thighs trembling as Spencer did it again, moving lower, down to the streaks on Brendon's thighs, the one high up on the crease. Spencer licked it up, moved his mouth over Brendon's skin, back up to his cock. Spencer licked it all up, listening to the faint noises escaping Brendon's mouth, and took the head between his lips, sucking at it.
Brendon got a little frantic, over-sensitized, pushed at Spencer's head, trying to get him to move off. Spencer ignored him, sucked at it until he could feel Brendon start to harden again.
He pulled off and knelt back between Brendon’s spread legs, taking him in. Brendon was completely naked against the sheets save for the leather around his wrists. Spencer’s eyes settled on the cuffs.
He moved off the bed in search of the belt he’d been wearing earlier. When he returned, he nudged Brendon further up the bed to settle against the pillows.
“Give me your hands,” Spencer told Brendon quietly.
Brendon’s breath caught in his chest and his eyes went dark. “Yes, sir,” he whispered, swallowing. He held his hands out to Spencer.
Spencer threaded the length of leather through one buckle, then the other. He secured it in a makeshift hold around the bedpost, requiring Brendon be spread out diagonally across the bed. Spencer gathered both of Brendon's wrists in his hand and tugged, feeling the security of the bonds.
Spencer moved back between Brendon's thighs. Brendon's eyes were closed, his breathing shallow, Spencer could make out the tension in the muscles in his arms, his shoulders. His cock was red and wet at the tip, curved up to press against his stomach.
Spencer pushed his fingers through the pot of oil and and covered himself, careful not to touch too much for fear he'd come from the sight of Brendon alone, spread out for him.
Spencer pushed his thumb back inside Brendon, replaced it with one finger until Brendon was shifting into it, added another and moved them back and forth, working Brendon open.
Spencer settled on his knees. He gripped the back of Brendon's thigh, pushed it towards his stomach and reached up to curl his fingers in Brendon's hair, forcing him to open his eyes.
"Look at me," Spencer breathed as he nudged against Brendon. Brendon's breath caught as Spencer pushed, both of them tense as Spencer worked the head of his cock, pushing at the tight muscle and waiting for Brendon's body to give.
Spencer moved slowly, watching Brendon as he pushed inside until he was all the way in, hips flush against Brendon's, and stayed like that until he felt like he could move without exploding.
Brendon's back arched up, causing his shoulders to pull back from the bonds securing him, and he cried out as the angle changed, hips forced up.
When Spencer spilled, it was sudden and forceful and stars spiked bright and colorful behind his eyelids.
Spencer held himself still, trying to get his breath back. His eyes settled on Brendon who had his head back, breathing hard, his hands clenched into fists.
“Okay, it’s okay,” Spencer soothed, wrapping a palm around Brendon as he pulled out. Brendon made a sound low in his throat, shifting restlessly, clearly seeking release.
Spencer put his palm on Brendon’s stomach, holding him still, and settled on his knees between Brendon’s splayed thighs.
Brendon arched up with a shudder as Spencer opened his mouth and took Brendon in, lips closing around him. Spencer pushed a finger inside, and then a second as he worked Brendon with his mouth. It didn’t take long for Brendon to let go, and he
came with a cry, hot and sudden in Spencer's mouth. Spencer took it all, his free hand pressed flat to Brendon's stomach to feel the muscle flutter there.
Spencer deftly undid the bonds, letting Brendon test his muscles cautiously. Brendon's breathing was rough and he was watching Spencer, eyes sleepy and heavy lidded, teeth digging nervously into his bottom lip.
Spencer's stood up abruptly, got to unsteady feet. He went into the other room and came back with a basin of water and a cloth. He settled between Brendon's legs again, wetting the cloth.
Spencer moved it gently over Brendon's skin. "Shh, let me," Spencer said, smiling slightly as Brendon made a sleepy noise of protest. He pushed Brendon's thigh to the bed, exposing him and making Brendon blush bright red. Spencer wet the cloth again in the water and moved it over Brendon's thighs, and then gently cleaned Brendon.
Spencer set the basin aside and settled in next to Brendon, kissed his mouth open even as Brendon sighed sleepily and shuffled in close.