I Wanna Be Dirty
Title: I Wanna Be Dirty
Chapter: 1/3
Author: americanaffair
Beta:
Pairing: Joncer
Rating: NC-17
POV: 3rd
Summary:
“Jon!” Spencer pouted, trying to lick it all off the best he could.
In response, the older winked, smiling. “Lick it up, Smith.”
Warning: Spanking. BDSM themes.
Disclaimer: I don't own anyone used in these works, I do however own the words. The title is from Rocky Horror Picture Show.
Author Notes: Firstly, this is for aholelabledlove because she loves Jon and I love Spencer and we both love them doing bad, bad, bad things together. And we've been discussing this for eternity and I was just too slow a fuck to do it. And it's for raimzi , who sweetly listened to me babble through trying to decide what the fuck Spencer should call Jon. So, yeah, I love them very very much:3 And it's my first Joncer fic, which is weird because Spencer is my most favorite obsession. Anyway. Read, comment, jerk off. Whatever pleasures you.
Spencer was never the fan girl favorite. Never voted in Sexiest Musicians Under 25. And never really cared, either. Brendon loved the attention, even though it tinged his cheeks red. Ryan adored when people complimented him or called him pretty, no matter what he attempted to deny. Brendon and Ryan were so similar in that way, always craving the adoration.
But Spencer never really cared. Of course people would hug him, and tell him how beautiful his eyes were. There was the occasional misplaced looking fan girl who stuttered up to him and proposed with geeky one liners that were hopelessly endearing. Otherwise, Spencer was just... Spencer. It was just the way things were, and how they always would be.
Until he met one Jon Walker.
***
It probably started with the Nutella, if we're all telling the truth hear. Spencer was young, with short light brunette hair and bits of chub sticking to his tall frame. He was sitting beside Ryan, deeply discussing if Brendon would be good in bed or not (“His ass is so fuckable!” “He'd probably make light saber noises with your cock!”) when Jon walked in, looking for Nutella.
So Spencer raised his arm limply, pointing in the general direction of the jarred deliciousness. “No one's opened it, you should probably get the scissors and some shit.” He cleared his throat, not wanting to mention how he himself had earlier fumbled with the stupid thing for about five minutes, until Ryan told him to calm his ovaries. And he started bickering, because he most certainly did not have ovaries.
Jon just shrugged, grabbing the jar with ease and proceeded to open it like someone had lubed the cap. Which Spencer actually pondered for a second, because, holy fuck. He'd never considered himself a strong man, but drummers have something of muscles. Spencer had no fucking clue bass players did, too. Especially due to the fact he'd never seen Jon outwardly working out, or flexing his muscles.
At the very idea of Jon, suddenly shirtless and sweaty, which Spencer had totally never ever thought of before, his collar felt hot. Ryan looked at him, cocking his head sideways and letting his eyes follow the line of sight belonging to the pale blue orbs. When seeing they landed upon Jon, that damn devious smirk swept up his lips. Spencer wanted to smack it off him, the murderous traitor.
“Spence?” Jon came over, raising an eyebrow.
Color immediately gushed to his face, knowing he'd been caught.
But Jon nudged his hip and smiled. “Y'think I can sit down? I'll share Nutella.”
“Oh. Uhm. Yeah, yeah, sure,” Spencer scrambled to push himself away, hearing Ryan yelp because their feet connected in a very unpleasant ankle to shin bone collision. Don't act so un-fucking-cool. Jesus. You've been in this band longer than he has. The lighter haired boy chewed on his inner lip, trying to avoid from glancing at Jon's suddenly so interesting Adam’s apple. Which was quite a struggle.
“Want some?” Jon grinned, turning to push the jar towards the youngest boy.
“Sure,” Spencer repeated himself, nodding to make it seem like, yeah, all this staring and ogling has been about Nutella the whole fucking time. No worries. He really wished that was true.
He reached out an arm, going to grab the jar, but Jon pulled it into his lap. Spencer caught himself before following the jar's direction.
Which is worse, getting caught staring at Jon's dick or getting a faceful of Nutella and Walker crotch?
Another thing Spencer could add to his list of never, ever, wanting to find out. But secretly wishing it would happen just to know the answer.
Jon slipped his finger into the jar, wiggling it in front of Spencer's nose.
“I'm not licking Nutella off your finger,” Spencer laughed lightly, snorting in anxiety and blushing because of it.
“Oh?” Jon frowned for a minute, his deep in thought look plastered across his face.
Until his finger swept across Spencer's lips anyway, also going around his lips and getting his general mouth area sticky.
“Jon!” Spencer pouted, trying to lick it all off the best he could.
In response, the older winked, smiling. “Lick it up, Smith.”
And then Jon was gone. Probably to go see if that baby monitor he got for Dylan would work, even though were was probably no way that being this far away it would help him spy on his cat.
“Dude,” Ryan's mouth was gaped open. Spencer looked carefully, before raising an eyebrow.
“Ryan, are you wearing lip gloss?”
“Jon Walker totally wants to fuck you,” the skinny boy pushed himself up from the table. Spencer heard the faint jingle of moving bracelets and other accessories. “And yes, it's coconut flavored.”
“Brendon hates coconut.”
If his hearing was a bit better, Spencer would've heard the mumbled fuck as Ryan ambled out of the bus. To, probably, go buy cherry lip gloss
And Spencer would never tell him Brendon's favorite flavor was root beer, either.
***
Later that night, Spencer was splayed out on the hotel bed. White sheets, white comforter. So much white. And the best part about so much white meant that it was all clean. Brendon and Ryan were sharing a room, which Ryan claimed was a “booking mistake”. Spencer told him was a stupid idea, because Brendon was an active sleeper and Ryan bruised easily.
But either way, they were across the hall, which meant they were not there right now. Jon was in the room pressed up against his, and there was sounds of TV and a running shower emitting between the door which connected the two rooms.
Spencer stretched, running his fingers through the short, spiked hair, and wiggling a bit to kick the covers off of him. He looked down, already knowing that this alone time was short enjoyed and there was only one thing that could make it better.
His fingers moved, as though their own separate being, and clasped quickly around the hotels complimentary lotion. It was like they were looking out for single guys. What a nice Holiday Inn. Luckily, it also wasn't scented. Which shouldn't be a big deal, but when you have band members who don't understand personal space, being asked why your cock smells like lavender can be something of a very awkward situation. Fucking Brendon.
Quickly, his hand was covered in the white substance. In a matter of seconds, his dick was coated and ready to be given attention it desperately needed, before Spencer exploded. Ever since earlier, he'd been at a semi-hard state all day. And it was the least fun thing he'd ever been through.
“Uhhn,” he moaned quietly. He was always quiet, in everything he did. Especially jacking off. The warm, tightness of his slick grip wrapped around his throbbing dicks base, already hard after those few memories.
Spencer liked to think of certain things when he was getting off. Things he could never, ever, imagine doing with anyone. Mainly the person he imagined them with so frequently. They were his favorite fantasies, his brain's dotting nothings.
His pale hips bucked into his fist.
Splayed across Jon's lap. He could feel the his hardness pressing into the mans leg, as well as Jon's hardness pressing into his stomach.
“Spencer?” Jon asked, sliding one strong, heavy hand across the hills of his white ass.
“Yes?” Spencer replied, trying to sound as non-whine-y as possible.
“Should I have to tell you why you're being punished, or do you already know?” Jon teased, looking his other arm across Spencer's abdomen to ensure he wouldn't be moving anywhere, anytime soon.
“Because,” Spencer paused, racking his brain. Mind running blank when Jon had him like this.
“Because, why?”
“Because I didn't call you by the proper name,” he chewed his lip anxiously. This was his favorite part. The scolding.
“Exactly. What are you supposed to call me?”
“I-uhng-sorry,” Spencer never got his name out.
Jon's palm slapped down hard, making him jerk and yelp in one swift movement and vocal action.
“Count, bitch,” Jon hit his other ass cheek even harder. Spencer wondered if his hand felt the heat in waves as blood rushed to the suddenly awakened flesh.
“Two,” Spencer said. He pushed his ass out further, wanting more contact between Jon's slaps and his ass.
“You like this, don't you?” Jon laughed, looking down at the writing boy spread across his lap. Just begging for more, with his ass raised up in the air like a cat when you pet it's tail. Jon also got a good look at Spencer's hard cock, resting against his stomach.
“Y-Yes,” Spencer admitted, closing his eyes.
“You little fucking slut, you love this, don't you?”
“So much,” his voice was breathy and uneven, loving every second of this situation.
“Dirty boy, Spencer, nasty fucking little boy,” Jon's hand was coming down harder and harder, the hits echoing off all the walls and bouncing right back to Spencer's ears. “Now, what the fuck do you-”
Spencer came all over his hand with a cry of ecstasy, moaning and writing on the sheets. Looking for skin to skin friction he wanted but didn't have. He continued to jerk himself, especially thumbing the slit and working the sensitive head. Loving every second of the prolonged orgasm, making him feel painful pleasure.
Laying there, he wiped off his hand and stared at the ceiling. It's blank, white slate just stared back down at him.
Only one thing bothered him about that otherwise perfect scenario. His ideal moment. He had absolutely no fucking idea what Jon would demand to be called.
And that isn't the kind of question you can just get up and go knock on a door about. They weren't long time neighbors and Spencer needed to borrow salt. It was Spencer's crush, and new found band mate, and Spencer's awkward specialty. He just couldn't help it.
Jon was older, Jon was experienced. Jon was sexy, with his coffee and cigarette breath, and the Crest White Strips Ryan forced him to wear to keep his teeth from being disgusting in pictures and videos. Jon was funny, everyone always was in stitched whenever he came around. Jon was perfect, and Spencer just could not equal up to that.
So he pouted, wondering if Jon would prefer “Master” or “Sir” to come out as moans between his chapped and bitten lips.
***
Sometimes, when the two crossed paths, it seemed like Jon just somehow knew that he was Spencer's self love dream. With those casual winks and perfect lazy grins, it almost felt like he was waiting to say, “Oh by the way, were you saying my name when you came last night?”
And Spencer also, very much, secretly liked the idea of hearing that particular question come from Jon's mouth in one of their weird moments that seemed to occur in a far more often rate than ever prior. On occasion, he'd catch this look in Jon's eyes... and they weren't the normal, stoned and so happy glaze. Something different, deeper, and a lot more interesting.
Of course, he never got the opportunity to investigate and push the situation. Something, or someone, always cut the scene so short it should've been a sin.
But right now, they were all caught up. Spencer was sitting there, holding his bottle of Poland Spring, and Jon came in. He sat down beside him. The younger boy felt the heat radiate and spread across his body, wanting almost nothing more in that second but to roll over and fan himself across Jon's pliable body.
And then the ass fuck walked in.
“Spencer, Spencer, I got a secret,” Ryan giggled and hiccuped.
“What?”
“I heard you last night,” Brendon ran beside him, laughing hysterically.
No, no, no, no.
“Whatever it was,” Ryan winked.
“It sounded like a pretty damn good session,” Brendon concluded. “Ohmygod, Ryan, I bet we could get a fan to buy us bunnies!”
Apparently, bunnies had been what led the stoned idiots onto the bus, because these surreal bunnies also lovingly towed them away.
“Pretty damn good?” Jon scooted over, resting his hand on Spencer's knee and looking right into his eyes.
“Was nothing, I don't know what they heard,” Spencer lied. But he could feel the blush covering his face like a badly done makeup job from Brendon after getting into Ryan's Sephora cosmetics kit.
“It certainly must've been something, to distract Ryan from failing at getting into Brendon's tight pants.” Jon winked, again, and Spencer felt his face get even more impossibly hot.
“I. Uh. Well,” he swallowed thickly, blinking, and glancing at the ceiling. Secret prayers went through his nervous system, but they never listened to him, and cold sweat still clammed up his hands and back of neck.
“Don't lie to me,” Jon turned ever so slightly, clasping Spencer's pointed chin between his fingers and turning his head.
“What?” The light auburn haired boy widened his blue eyes, taking in Jon's oh-so-masculine features with one foul swoop. Never before had that menacing look he sometimes gave, like when Ryan said Hobo could eat Dylan, been so bluntly attractive.
“I said,” He brought their face even closer. “Don't lie to me. Tell me, honestly, Spencer. What was it you were thinking about?”
Nuh uh. No way. This is... a dream. Wake up. Just, close your eyes, and wake up.
“Noth-”
“One more time and I'll punish you,” Jon's face held a sweetly sinister smile. Spencer's dick sprang to sudden attention, finally his dense brain understanding the full situation. “See, either way, I know what you were doing last night. You were touching yourself. And I, Spencer, do not like it when my pet touches himself without me being around. In fact, I don't like when my pet touches himself without asking for permission in general.”
“I'm... Sorry?”
“Right, but I don't want your apologies now. I want you tell me exactly what you were thinking about,” Jon still held his chin, thumbing carefully and somehow lovingly over the pale skin and smiling with the utmost look of paranormal pride.
“I was thinking about, about, something like this,” Spencer started. His tone mirrored the image of walking on hot coals. “I, uhm, you were spanking me, and, and was mad because I called you the wrong name, and. And that's what it was.” Word vomit.
“Oh? Well, for starters, you can call me Mr. Walker, when it's just us. Ryan and Brendon would find that strange, no?”
Spencer moaned softly.
“Or would you get off on them knowing? Tell me honestly, pet. I don't like liars,” Jon tightened his grip one final time, before letting go completely. But his lack of touch wasn't for long. Before Spencer could formulate a response that even sounded something close to okay, strong arms wrapped around him and with strange simplicity pulled the boy onto his lap.
“I, well, yes, M-Mr. Walker,” Spencer yet again stumbled over the words, completely foreign to these situations. I mean, sure, there had been more than plenty But that was between him and his hand, which meant it was entirely different. His hand couldn't really slap his ass, his hand couldn't really be Jon's angry punishment voice, or sweet voice of pride. His hand could simply not do those things. But right now? They were all a fantastically surreal reality.
“Well, fear not, you getting off won't be happening in any near foreseen future after last night,” Jon laughed slightly, reaching his hand down to squeeze Spencer's obvious erection.
Spencer groaned in response, trying with all his strength to keep from bucking his hips back up. Somehow, he managed.
“And when they are around, just call me Jon. But never Walker. Furthermore, you answer when I speak to you, and don't talk back. I give punishments as I see fit, and will always tell you why exactly I choose to punish you. I won't hurt my pretty little pet for stupid reasons,” Jon ran his fingers through Spencer's soft hair, petting it back down slightly and grinning devilishly.
“T-Thank you,” Spencer nodded, biting on his lip in nerves and, in all fairness, anticipation.
“Anytime, baby. Now, I bet you know what's about to happen?” Jon pressed his lips against right below Spencer's ear, listening to shallow intake of breath and soft moan.
“I'm in trouble?”
“For what, though? Say it,” Jon pressured, continuing to nibble in a teasing manner down the soft flesh of his neck.
“Jerking off without asking for your-ah-your permission,” Spencer groaned quietly.
“Mhm,” And then those sweet kisses and gentle bites ceased. Jon shoved Spencer off his lap, sending his body flying from the invisible strength. “Strip. Quickly and neatly.”
He needed absolutely no further direction, collecting himself and removing his shoes and socks neatly. Jeans followed suit, falling down his pale legs. In no time, he was down to just boxers. There was hesitation, of course. Sure, he'd been naked in front of his band members before, but this... this was different. This was getting naked for sexual activity, not getting naked because there is only one communal
shower and everyone is too tired to care.
“Perfect, now come here.” Jon patted his knee, watching as Spencer made his way back over quietly. Jon grabbed his hips, pulling him down forcefully, but not painfully. Once Spencer was aligned across his lap to his pleasure, he hummed in quiet satisfaction. “Spencer, Spencer, I knew you wanted this for so long. You're such a little slut for me, aren't you?” Jon rubbed his hand on one of Spencer's ass cheeks. “I said, aren't you?!” He quickly slapped the skin, feeling blood skitter to the irritated skin.
“Yes, Mr. Walker,” Spencer said clearly, cringing at the surprising pain.
“Good boy. Now, I wonder why you never acted on it? I could always tell you wanted this. Me, like this. Where you afraid of me? Because I can be so sweet if you aren't a naughty boy, Spencer.” Jon brought his hand down again, harder. And again. And, oh god, again. “Count, bitch.”
“I, uh, four,” Spencer quickly tired to rack how many hits had already been landed to his backside.
“Four, what?” Jon slammed his hand down harder.
“I, five, Mr. Walker, thank you.”
By ten, Spencer was wiggling his hips. Unaccustomed to the fiery burn of a hand slapping the tender skin of his rear, saying he felt like he was on fire was an understatement. And despite knowing it only got worse from that point on, he also felt pre-cum starting to form on the head of his cock.
Around twenty, or maybe twenty five, could've even been thirty, Spencer felt tears prick his eyes. Despite counting allowed, these numbers were so far burned into his, and every persons head, that he wasn't exactly registering what he was saying. Just aware they were spewing from his mouth. If they weren't, he'd probably feel a hair pull, or the spanking would stop entirely and commence from zero.
By forty, he could feel the bruises. Jon's hand was so surprisingly strong. The thick, marred skin pelted his ass in hits, swats, and full on smacks and Spencer already knew that sitting down would be a real fucking journey for a week on.
“Fifty, Mr. Walker, thank you,” Spencer gasped out, hearing the last echo of flesh to flesh contact bounce around the room and enter his ears. It was almost sad, knowing this was over. But also invigorating, to be finally released from the searing pain.
“And now, Spencer,” Jon flipped him over carefully, not letting his ass slam too hard down on his lap. “What did you learn?”
“I learned not to jack off without asking your permission, Mr. Walker,” Spencer's ice cold eyes were shining in ecstasy.
“What do you say?” The older man smiled, taking in the nude boys features as he was so beautifully spread across his lower half.
“Thank you for the spanking, Mr. Walker”
“Good boy, Spence,” Jon grinned widely. “And since you took your first punishment like such a good boy, I think that maybe I'll fuck you. Would you like that, whore? My hard cock in your tight ass?”
Spencer writhed on Jon's lap, running his hand across his stomach. No matter how much it felt like magnets were attempting to guide his palm to his dick, he didn't let it. Afraid of the repercussions. Afraid of Jon not holding up to his promise.
“Stand up for me, pet,” Jon ordered, helping to move Spencer around until he could place both feet on the floor steadily. “Lean over the couch and grab the back of it,” he further instructed. To a smaller person, like Brendon, that would've been difficult and he probably would end up kneeling. But Spencer had all the height, and could easily be bent like that without needing to stretch his toes.
The boy did as told, no surprise there. Jon smiled, looking at his bright red ass and feeling astonished Spencer hadn't whined about it. He must've wanted this more than Jon had counted on previously.
“You've ever been fucked before?” Jon asked, still eyeing Spencer's beautifully marked up rear.
“N-No, Mr. Walker,” Spencer answered quickly, but he was popping his ass like he wanted it just so bad. Putting it all out there like an experienced whore.
Jon wanted, at first, to stop. Wait till tonight, and fuck Spencer in a hotel bed. Sure, Spencer was his pet. His, forever, or until he choose to discard the boy. But he was still human, and he wanted to give only the best.
But he was, again, still human. And there was no way he could stop now.
Brendon kept lube stashed in unfortunately strategic places all throughout the bus, so Jon knew that if he stuck his hand between the couch cushions, he would retrieve a small bottle of water based lubricant. Ryan also stashed condoms in similarly strategic places, which served as a shuddering reminder to Jon about who was topping in those situations, and of course the next thing easily found was a blue Durex.
God, his band mates were predictable.
Jon covered his fingers, three in total, but started with one. He slowly pressed it in, listening for Spencer's verbal cues.
A sharp intake and soft groan usually meant there was something wrong. A sharp intake in general meant the tensed up muscles were now relaxed. And a moan usually meant, “more, now, please.”
Spencer inhaled quickly, and Jon felt that while his ass muscles unclenched, his forearms tightened and long fingers dug ever further into the couch. For a millisecond, he worried about Spencer ruining the upholstery Then he remembered that he was fingering Spencer's ass, and no one gave a fuck about tour bus couches anyway, so they could kiss his flip flops. And they were filthy.
He probed, trying to make everything calm down. Jon knew Spencer was trying his best to remain still and breath, because the more anxious, the less fun everything becomes. But, first times are first times.
“Sssh,” Jon pressed his lips to Spencer's tailbone, as he began to slide just that one finger in and out of the light brunette's tight ass. “Imma add another now,” Jon spoke clearly, inserting the next along with the first in the same finger fuck rhythm. Spencer twitched, but otherwise stood perfectly (and impressively) still.
Jon began to scissor his fingers, trying to ensure everything would be loose enough that when he pushed in, Spencer wouldn't get hurt.
“Third, pet, you're being such a good boy for me.”
The third finger was by far the worst. While Spencer knew he should be grateful, that not all doms are this nice to their pets and don't take so much time to prepare virgins before just fucking into them, it hurt so bad. Little jolts of electric hot pain thundered up his spine and through his nervous system. All he wanted was to push it out, and that was clearly out of his control.
“J-J-Mr. Walker,” Spencer murmured, running his tongue across his lips and feeling the sweat start to form atop his skin.
“It's alright, Spence, just a few more minutes,” Jon promised, still kissing his tail bone and sometimes ass cheeks softly and reassuringly. His fingers worked a perfect rhythm, trying to remain as gentle as they could while still doing their intended job.
Finally, when Jon was as pleased as he could be, he coated his dick in the lube after pulling on the condom. Really coated. No where went untouched by the sort of sticky substance.
Admittedly, he wished he could fuck Spencer bareback. But condoms are pretty good for the first time, mainly because they keep everything tighter. And he would hate to have everything go so perfectly, and then let Spencer just say no because Jon didn't fuck him that great.
He started slow, pushing his fully hard cock in inch by inch.
“You've got such a pretty, little, red ass, Spencer.” Jon smiled against his shoulder blade, pressing a kiss to the underside of his jaw. “What a good little whore boy. You love this, don't you? Getting fucked right after a spanking. So that whenever you sit down for the rest of the week, even during an interview or playing a stupid video game, you'll remember that your owner punished you. And you'll remember to be a better boy next time, won't you?”
Jon's cock was now fully burrowed in Spencer's ass, but he wasn't moving. It was always easier to start off slow, letting the body adjust. He'd move when Spencer gave the cue.
“I want to hear you say it, I love when Mr. Walker fucks my ass after my punishment.”
Spencer groaned, grinding his hips ever so slightly. Jon pulled out miniscule-y, and thrust back in, feeling Spencer moan more at the small move. “I love when Mr. Walker fucks my ass after my punishment,” he responded quickly. Jon was wishing to see how beautiful his blue eyes looked in this given moment.
Jon pulled out a little more, and pushed back in a little harder. Spencer groaned more at that, squeezing his ass around the hard cock as an indication of more.
“If you want more, or harder, you're gonna have to use your nice words,” Jon teased, circling his hips and feeling when Spencer's entire back shuddered. He assumed he'd found the sweet spot.
“Please, fuck me harder, Mr. Walker,” the young boy gasped. His moan was strikingly loud when Jon ejected his dick, only to drive it back in with so much more force than any time prior.
Spencer moaned beautiful notes, throwing back his head and loving how Jon gripped his hips with enough casual power to leave bruises that might last longer than those from the spanking just minutes ago.
Once a good pattern was worked between their two bodies, Spencer grew entranced by the sound of Jon's balls slapping against the tender skin of his ass. He worked harder to push out, trying to make the sound louder. His cock was getting somehow harder, and Spencer was almost sure he could die from blood loss to the brain. Seriously. Talk about thinking with the wrong head, as Ryan would say.
“Mr. Walker, would, would you please touch me? Please, please?” Spencer begged, feeling his entire body being bounced from just the pure strength of Jon's individual thrusts.
No response was heard, but Spencer undoubtly felt the hand that wrapped around his cock and began to pump in the most pleasuring of ways. Up, down, thumb, light squeeze. Too perfect. Stars were everywhere in those seconds, and he was well aware of how close he was to loosing it.
“Mr...Mr. Walker, I'm-I can't take anymore,” Spencer groaned, bucking his hips into Jon's hand and then feeling his hard dick hit his most sensitive of spots on the rebound. His body was being jostled all around, and it never felt so good to be aware of bruises.
“Ask, nicer,” Jon's tone was gruff, and it was obvious he was close too, if not closer than the younger.
“Mr. Walker, my I please cum?”
“Yes, pet,” Jon grinned, quickening his pace to hopefully finish before Spencer. All the built up sexual tension wasn't exactly helping him in
the long lasting department, but since the same could be said for Spencer, he didn't feel all that bad.
He felt the hips ramming into his fist stutter, and Spencer moaned at his loudest, before a series of sharp breaths and mild body convolutions came along. A twitcher. The orgasm flooded Spencer's body as he came with an unconstrained cry.
Jon followed suit, not even close to possessing the self control to continue on after the virgin pet in front of him finished his first fuck and came all over his hand with such, pretty, noises.
He pulled out, tugging the condom off and flipping Spencer over so he fell into the couch in proper sitting form. Jon pumped his cock, and quickly came all over Spencer's pale chest.
Before he even got the chance to say a word, he watched with pleased awe as the boy ran fingers over his body and coated them in the fresh cum, then sucked off everything, repeating the motions until he was considerably cleaner than a second before.
Jon smiled, gesturing for Spencer to stand and follow him. He lead him to his bunk, laying down and pulling the boy on top of him.
“You're a good pet, y'know?” Jon ran his fingers through Spencer's hair again, being cautious to use the cleaner hand.
“Thank you, Mr. Walker,” Spencer blushed, nuzzling his head down to Jon's chest.
“There are rules, to this, but we'll get to those some other time, yeah?”
“Please,” Spencer grinned, biting his lip and looking up to meet Jon's dark brown eyes.
His owner brought their lips together in a binding kiss, and then pulled away to peck Spencer's prominent nose.
“Sleep,” Jon smiled lightly, fisting his eyes with the hand that wasn't holding the small of Spencer's back.
And he no longer felt like just Spencer, after Jon fell asleep seconds after. Instead, he felt like... Spencer Smith, pet of Jon Walker.
Which was so much better than both being caught staring and a face full of Nutella and Walker crotch.
***
“What're they doing now?” Brendon peaked his head in the door, giggling maniacally.
Ryan followed suit, clutching Brendon's hand tightly and looking around. The bus appeared otherwise how they'd left it. “I dunno, sleeping?” Ryan laughed, pulling Brendon closer.
“They could catch us,” Brendon giggled on his lips, feeling Ryan pull him on his lap. Skinny knees supported his, admittedly curvaceous, ass, while Brendon's legs straddled the guitarists' itty bitty waist.
“Double the fun,” Ryan was already unbuttoning his shirt.
“No bus sex!” Zack whined, climbing on, and immediately off, the bus.
“But-” Brendon pouted, full on, looking like he just might make himself cry.
“It's okay,” Ryan giggled, pointing to the ripped condom wrapper and Brendon's lube bottle dropped on the floor. Clear imprints of bodies having had been just there pressed into the couch beside them. “Zack sleeps on that couch to avoid our bunks, anyway.” Ryan winked.
Chapter: 1/3
Author: americanaffair
Beta:
Pairing: Joncer
Rating: NC-17
POV: 3rd
Summary:
“Jon!” Spencer pouted, trying to lick it all off the best he could.
In response, the older winked, smiling. “Lick it up, Smith.”
Warning: Spanking. BDSM themes.
Disclaimer: I don't own anyone used in these works, I do however own the words. The title is from Rocky Horror Picture Show.
Author Notes: Firstly, this is for aholelabledlove because she loves Jon and I love Spencer and we both love them doing bad, bad, bad things together. And we've been discussing this for eternity and I was just too slow a fuck to do it. And it's for raimzi , who sweetly listened to me babble through trying to decide what the fuck Spencer should call Jon. So, yeah, I love them very very much:3 And it's my first Joncer fic, which is weird because Spencer is my most favorite obsession. Anyway. Read, comment, jerk off. Whatever pleasures you.
Spencer was never the fan girl favorite. Never voted in Sexiest Musicians Under 25. And never really cared, either. Brendon loved the attention, even though it tinged his cheeks red. Ryan adored when people complimented him or called him pretty, no matter what he attempted to deny. Brendon and Ryan were so similar in that way, always craving the adoration.
But Spencer never really cared. Of course people would hug him, and tell him how beautiful his eyes were. There was the occasional misplaced looking fan girl who stuttered up to him and proposed with geeky one liners that were hopelessly endearing. Otherwise, Spencer was just... Spencer. It was just the way things were, and how they always would be.
Until he met one Jon Walker.
***
It probably started with the Nutella, if we're all telling the truth hear. Spencer was young, with short light brunette hair and bits of chub sticking to his tall frame. He was sitting beside Ryan, deeply discussing if Brendon would be good in bed or not (“His ass is so fuckable!” “He'd probably make light saber noises with your cock!”) when Jon walked in, looking for Nutella.
So Spencer raised his arm limply, pointing in the general direction of the jarred deliciousness. “No one's opened it, you should probably get the scissors and some shit.” He cleared his throat, not wanting to mention how he himself had earlier fumbled with the stupid thing for about five minutes, until Ryan told him to calm his ovaries. And he started bickering, because he most certainly did not have ovaries.
Jon just shrugged, grabbing the jar with ease and proceeded to open it like someone had lubed the cap. Which Spencer actually pondered for a second, because, holy fuck. He'd never considered himself a strong man, but drummers have something of muscles. Spencer had no fucking clue bass players did, too. Especially due to the fact he'd never seen Jon outwardly working out, or flexing his muscles.
At the very idea of Jon, suddenly shirtless and sweaty, which Spencer had totally never ever thought of before, his collar felt hot. Ryan looked at him, cocking his head sideways and letting his eyes follow the line of sight belonging to the pale blue orbs. When seeing they landed upon Jon, that damn devious smirk swept up his lips. Spencer wanted to smack it off him, the murderous traitor.
“Spence?” Jon came over, raising an eyebrow.
Color immediately gushed to his face, knowing he'd been caught.
But Jon nudged his hip and smiled. “Y'think I can sit down? I'll share Nutella.”
“Oh. Uhm. Yeah, yeah, sure,” Spencer scrambled to push himself away, hearing Ryan yelp because their feet connected in a very unpleasant ankle to shin bone collision. Don't act so un-fucking-cool. Jesus. You've been in this band longer than he has. The lighter haired boy chewed on his inner lip, trying to avoid from glancing at Jon's suddenly so interesting Adam’s apple. Which was quite a struggle.
“Want some?” Jon grinned, turning to push the jar towards the youngest boy.
“Sure,” Spencer repeated himself, nodding to make it seem like, yeah, all this staring and ogling has been about Nutella the whole fucking time. No worries. He really wished that was true.
He reached out an arm, going to grab the jar, but Jon pulled it into his lap. Spencer caught himself before following the jar's direction.
Which is worse, getting caught staring at Jon's dick or getting a faceful of Nutella and Walker crotch?
Another thing Spencer could add to his list of never, ever, wanting to find out. But secretly wishing it would happen just to know the answer.
Jon slipped his finger into the jar, wiggling it in front of Spencer's nose.
“I'm not licking Nutella off your finger,” Spencer laughed lightly, snorting in anxiety and blushing because of it.
“Oh?” Jon frowned for a minute, his deep in thought look plastered across his face.
Until his finger swept across Spencer's lips anyway, also going around his lips and getting his general mouth area sticky.
“Jon!” Spencer pouted, trying to lick it all off the best he could.
In response, the older winked, smiling. “Lick it up, Smith.”
And then Jon was gone. Probably to go see if that baby monitor he got for Dylan would work, even though were was probably no way that being this far away it would help him spy on his cat.
“Dude,” Ryan's mouth was gaped open. Spencer looked carefully, before raising an eyebrow.
“Ryan, are you wearing lip gloss?”
“Jon Walker totally wants to fuck you,” the skinny boy pushed himself up from the table. Spencer heard the faint jingle of moving bracelets and other accessories. “And yes, it's coconut flavored.”
“Brendon hates coconut.”
If his hearing was a bit better, Spencer would've heard the mumbled fuck as Ryan ambled out of the bus. To, probably, go buy cherry lip gloss
And Spencer would never tell him Brendon's favorite flavor was root beer, either.
***
Later that night, Spencer was splayed out on the hotel bed. White sheets, white comforter. So much white. And the best part about so much white meant that it was all clean. Brendon and Ryan were sharing a room, which Ryan claimed was a “booking mistake”. Spencer told him was a stupid idea, because Brendon was an active sleeper and Ryan bruised easily.
But either way, they were across the hall, which meant they were not there right now. Jon was in the room pressed up against his, and there was sounds of TV and a running shower emitting between the door which connected the two rooms.
Spencer stretched, running his fingers through the short, spiked hair, and wiggling a bit to kick the covers off of him. He looked down, already knowing that this alone time was short enjoyed and there was only one thing that could make it better.
His fingers moved, as though their own separate being, and clasped quickly around the hotels complimentary lotion. It was like they were looking out for single guys. What a nice Holiday Inn. Luckily, it also wasn't scented. Which shouldn't be a big deal, but when you have band members who don't understand personal space, being asked why your cock smells like lavender can be something of a very awkward situation. Fucking Brendon.
Quickly, his hand was covered in the white substance. In a matter of seconds, his dick was coated and ready to be given attention it desperately needed, before Spencer exploded. Ever since earlier, he'd been at a semi-hard state all day. And it was the least fun thing he'd ever been through.
“Uhhn,” he moaned quietly. He was always quiet, in everything he did. Especially jacking off. The warm, tightness of his slick grip wrapped around his throbbing dicks base, already hard after those few memories.
Spencer liked to think of certain things when he was getting off. Things he could never, ever, imagine doing with anyone. Mainly the person he imagined them with so frequently. They were his favorite fantasies, his brain's dotting nothings.
His pale hips bucked into his fist.
Splayed across Jon's lap. He could feel the his hardness pressing into the mans leg, as well as Jon's hardness pressing into his stomach.
“Spencer?” Jon asked, sliding one strong, heavy hand across the hills of his white ass.
“Yes?” Spencer replied, trying to sound as non-whine-y as possible.
“Should I have to tell you why you're being punished, or do you already know?” Jon teased, looking his other arm across Spencer's abdomen to ensure he wouldn't be moving anywhere, anytime soon.
“Because,” Spencer paused, racking his brain. Mind running blank when Jon had him like this.
“Because, why?”
“Because I didn't call you by the proper name,” he chewed his lip anxiously. This was his favorite part. The scolding.
“Exactly. What are you supposed to call me?”
“I-uhng-sorry,” Spencer never got his name out.
Jon's palm slapped down hard, making him jerk and yelp in one swift movement and vocal action.
“Count, bitch,” Jon hit his other ass cheek even harder. Spencer wondered if his hand felt the heat in waves as blood rushed to the suddenly awakened flesh.
“Two,” Spencer said. He pushed his ass out further, wanting more contact between Jon's slaps and his ass.
“You like this, don't you?” Jon laughed, looking down at the writing boy spread across his lap. Just begging for more, with his ass raised up in the air like a cat when you pet it's tail. Jon also got a good look at Spencer's hard cock, resting against his stomach.
“Y-Yes,” Spencer admitted, closing his eyes.
“You little fucking slut, you love this, don't you?”
“So much,” his voice was breathy and uneven, loving every second of this situation.
“Dirty boy, Spencer, nasty fucking little boy,” Jon's hand was coming down harder and harder, the hits echoing off all the walls and bouncing right back to Spencer's ears. “Now, what the fuck do you-”
Spencer came all over his hand with a cry of ecstasy, moaning and writing on the sheets. Looking for skin to skin friction he wanted but didn't have. He continued to jerk himself, especially thumbing the slit and working the sensitive head. Loving every second of the prolonged orgasm, making him feel painful pleasure.
Laying there, he wiped off his hand and stared at the ceiling. It's blank, white slate just stared back down at him.
Only one thing bothered him about that otherwise perfect scenario. His ideal moment. He had absolutely no fucking idea what Jon would demand to be called.
And that isn't the kind of question you can just get up and go knock on a door about. They weren't long time neighbors and Spencer needed to borrow salt. It was Spencer's crush, and new found band mate, and Spencer's awkward specialty. He just couldn't help it.
Jon was older, Jon was experienced. Jon was sexy, with his coffee and cigarette breath, and the Crest White Strips Ryan forced him to wear to keep his teeth from being disgusting in pictures and videos. Jon was funny, everyone always was in stitched whenever he came around. Jon was perfect, and Spencer just could not equal up to that.
So he pouted, wondering if Jon would prefer “Master” or “Sir” to come out as moans between his chapped and bitten lips.
***
Sometimes, when the two crossed paths, it seemed like Jon just somehow knew that he was Spencer's self love dream. With those casual winks and perfect lazy grins, it almost felt like he was waiting to say, “Oh by the way, were you saying my name when you came last night?”
And Spencer also, very much, secretly liked the idea of hearing that particular question come from Jon's mouth in one of their weird moments that seemed to occur in a far more often rate than ever prior. On occasion, he'd catch this look in Jon's eyes... and they weren't the normal, stoned and so happy glaze. Something different, deeper, and a lot more interesting.
Of course, he never got the opportunity to investigate and push the situation. Something, or someone, always cut the scene so short it should've been a sin.
But right now, they were all caught up. Spencer was sitting there, holding his bottle of Poland Spring, and Jon came in. He sat down beside him. The younger boy felt the heat radiate and spread across his body, wanting almost nothing more in that second but to roll over and fan himself across Jon's pliable body.
And then the ass fuck walked in.
“Spencer, Spencer, I got a secret,” Ryan giggled and hiccuped.
“What?”
“I heard you last night,” Brendon ran beside him, laughing hysterically.
No, no, no, no.
“Whatever it was,” Ryan winked.
“It sounded like a pretty damn good session,” Brendon concluded. “Ohmygod, Ryan, I bet we could get a fan to buy us bunnies!”
Apparently, bunnies had been what led the stoned idiots onto the bus, because these surreal bunnies also lovingly towed them away.
“Pretty damn good?” Jon scooted over, resting his hand on Spencer's knee and looking right into his eyes.
“Was nothing, I don't know what they heard,” Spencer lied. But he could feel the blush covering his face like a badly done makeup job from Brendon after getting into Ryan's Sephora cosmetics kit.
“It certainly must've been something, to distract Ryan from failing at getting into Brendon's tight pants.” Jon winked, again, and Spencer felt his face get even more impossibly hot.
“I. Uh. Well,” he swallowed thickly, blinking, and glancing at the ceiling. Secret prayers went through his nervous system, but they never listened to him, and cold sweat still clammed up his hands and back of neck.
“Don't lie to me,” Jon turned ever so slightly, clasping Spencer's pointed chin between his fingers and turning his head.
“What?” The light auburn haired boy widened his blue eyes, taking in Jon's oh-so-masculine features with one foul swoop. Never before had that menacing look he sometimes gave, like when Ryan said Hobo could eat Dylan, been so bluntly attractive.
“I said,” He brought their face even closer. “Don't lie to me. Tell me, honestly, Spencer. What was it you were thinking about?”
Nuh uh. No way. This is... a dream. Wake up. Just, close your eyes, and wake up.
“Noth-”
“One more time and I'll punish you,” Jon's face held a sweetly sinister smile. Spencer's dick sprang to sudden attention, finally his dense brain understanding the full situation. “See, either way, I know what you were doing last night. You were touching yourself. And I, Spencer, do not like it when my pet touches himself without me being around. In fact, I don't like when my pet touches himself without asking for permission in general.”
“I'm... Sorry?”
“Right, but I don't want your apologies now. I want you tell me exactly what you were thinking about,” Jon still held his chin, thumbing carefully and somehow lovingly over the pale skin and smiling with the utmost look of paranormal pride.
“I was thinking about, about, something like this,” Spencer started. His tone mirrored the image of walking on hot coals. “I, uhm, you were spanking me, and, and was mad because I called you the wrong name, and. And that's what it was.” Word vomit.
“Oh? Well, for starters, you can call me Mr. Walker, when it's just us. Ryan and Brendon would find that strange, no?”
Spencer moaned softly.
“Or would you get off on them knowing? Tell me honestly, pet. I don't like liars,” Jon tightened his grip one final time, before letting go completely. But his lack of touch wasn't for long. Before Spencer could formulate a response that even sounded something close to okay, strong arms wrapped around him and with strange simplicity pulled the boy onto his lap.
“I, well, yes, M-Mr. Walker,” Spencer yet again stumbled over the words, completely foreign to these situations. I mean, sure, there had been more than plenty But that was between him and his hand, which meant it was entirely different. His hand couldn't really slap his ass, his hand couldn't really be Jon's angry punishment voice, or sweet voice of pride. His hand could simply not do those things. But right now? They were all a fantastically surreal reality.
“Well, fear not, you getting off won't be happening in any near foreseen future after last night,” Jon laughed slightly, reaching his hand down to squeeze Spencer's obvious erection.
Spencer groaned in response, trying with all his strength to keep from bucking his hips back up. Somehow, he managed.
“And when they are around, just call me Jon. But never Walker. Furthermore, you answer when I speak to you, and don't talk back. I give punishments as I see fit, and will always tell you why exactly I choose to punish you. I won't hurt my pretty little pet for stupid reasons,” Jon ran his fingers through Spencer's soft hair, petting it back down slightly and grinning devilishly.
“T-Thank you,” Spencer nodded, biting on his lip in nerves and, in all fairness, anticipation.
“Anytime, baby. Now, I bet you know what's about to happen?” Jon pressed his lips against right below Spencer's ear, listening to shallow intake of breath and soft moan.
“I'm in trouble?”
“For what, though? Say it,” Jon pressured, continuing to nibble in a teasing manner down the soft flesh of his neck.
“Jerking off without asking for your-ah-your permission,” Spencer groaned quietly.
“Mhm,” And then those sweet kisses and gentle bites ceased. Jon shoved Spencer off his lap, sending his body flying from the invisible strength. “Strip. Quickly and neatly.”
He needed absolutely no further direction, collecting himself and removing his shoes and socks neatly. Jeans followed suit, falling down his pale legs. In no time, he was down to just boxers. There was hesitation, of course. Sure, he'd been naked in front of his band members before, but this... this was different. This was getting naked for sexual activity, not getting naked because there is only one communal
shower and everyone is too tired to care.
“Perfect, now come here.” Jon patted his knee, watching as Spencer made his way back over quietly. Jon grabbed his hips, pulling him down forcefully, but not painfully. Once Spencer was aligned across his lap to his pleasure, he hummed in quiet satisfaction. “Spencer, Spencer, I knew you wanted this for so long. You're such a little slut for me, aren't you?” Jon rubbed his hand on one of Spencer's ass cheeks. “I said, aren't you?!” He quickly slapped the skin, feeling blood skitter to the irritated skin.
“Yes, Mr. Walker,” Spencer said clearly, cringing at the surprising pain.
“Good boy. Now, I wonder why you never acted on it? I could always tell you wanted this. Me, like this. Where you afraid of me? Because I can be so sweet if you aren't a naughty boy, Spencer.” Jon brought his hand down again, harder. And again. And, oh god, again. “Count, bitch.”
“I, uh, four,” Spencer quickly tired to rack how many hits had already been landed to his backside.
“Four, what?” Jon slammed his hand down harder.
“I, five, Mr. Walker, thank you.”
By ten, Spencer was wiggling his hips. Unaccustomed to the fiery burn of a hand slapping the tender skin of his rear, saying he felt like he was on fire was an understatement. And despite knowing it only got worse from that point on, he also felt pre-cum starting to form on the head of his cock.
Around twenty, or maybe twenty five, could've even been thirty, Spencer felt tears prick his eyes. Despite counting allowed, these numbers were so far burned into his, and every persons head, that he wasn't exactly registering what he was saying. Just aware they were spewing from his mouth. If they weren't, he'd probably feel a hair pull, or the spanking would stop entirely and commence from zero.
By forty, he could feel the bruises. Jon's hand was so surprisingly strong. The thick, marred skin pelted his ass in hits, swats, and full on smacks and Spencer already knew that sitting down would be a real fucking journey for a week on.
“Fifty, Mr. Walker, thank you,” Spencer gasped out, hearing the last echo of flesh to flesh contact bounce around the room and enter his ears. It was almost sad, knowing this was over. But also invigorating, to be finally released from the searing pain.
“And now, Spencer,” Jon flipped him over carefully, not letting his ass slam too hard down on his lap. “What did you learn?”
“I learned not to jack off without asking your permission, Mr. Walker,” Spencer's ice cold eyes were shining in ecstasy.
“What do you say?” The older man smiled, taking in the nude boys features as he was so beautifully spread across his lower half.
“Thank you for the spanking, Mr. Walker”
“Good boy, Spence,” Jon grinned widely. “And since you took your first punishment like such a good boy, I think that maybe I'll fuck you. Would you like that, whore? My hard cock in your tight ass?”
Spencer writhed on Jon's lap, running his hand across his stomach. No matter how much it felt like magnets were attempting to guide his palm to his dick, he didn't let it. Afraid of the repercussions. Afraid of Jon not holding up to his promise.
“Stand up for me, pet,” Jon ordered, helping to move Spencer around until he could place both feet on the floor steadily. “Lean over the couch and grab the back of it,” he further instructed. To a smaller person, like Brendon, that would've been difficult and he probably would end up kneeling. But Spencer had all the height, and could easily be bent like that without needing to stretch his toes.
The boy did as told, no surprise there. Jon smiled, looking at his bright red ass and feeling astonished Spencer hadn't whined about it. He must've wanted this more than Jon had counted on previously.
“You've ever been fucked before?” Jon asked, still eyeing Spencer's beautifully marked up rear.
“N-No, Mr. Walker,” Spencer answered quickly, but he was popping his ass like he wanted it just so bad. Putting it all out there like an experienced whore.
Jon wanted, at first, to stop. Wait till tonight, and fuck Spencer in a hotel bed. Sure, Spencer was his pet. His, forever, or until he choose to discard the boy. But he was still human, and he wanted to give only the best.
But he was, again, still human. And there was no way he could stop now.
Brendon kept lube stashed in unfortunately strategic places all throughout the bus, so Jon knew that if he stuck his hand between the couch cushions, he would retrieve a small bottle of water based lubricant. Ryan also stashed condoms in similarly strategic places, which served as a shuddering reminder to Jon about who was topping in those situations, and of course the next thing easily found was a blue Durex.
God, his band mates were predictable.
Jon covered his fingers, three in total, but started with one. He slowly pressed it in, listening for Spencer's verbal cues.
A sharp intake and soft groan usually meant there was something wrong. A sharp intake in general meant the tensed up muscles were now relaxed. And a moan usually meant, “more, now, please.”
Spencer inhaled quickly, and Jon felt that while his ass muscles unclenched, his forearms tightened and long fingers dug ever further into the couch. For a millisecond, he worried about Spencer ruining the upholstery Then he remembered that he was fingering Spencer's ass, and no one gave a fuck about tour bus couches anyway, so they could kiss his flip flops. And they were filthy.
He probed, trying to make everything calm down. Jon knew Spencer was trying his best to remain still and breath, because the more anxious, the less fun everything becomes. But, first times are first times.
“Sssh,” Jon pressed his lips to Spencer's tailbone, as he began to slide just that one finger in and out of the light brunette's tight ass. “Imma add another now,” Jon spoke clearly, inserting the next along with the first in the same finger fuck rhythm. Spencer twitched, but otherwise stood perfectly (and impressively) still.
Jon began to scissor his fingers, trying to ensure everything would be loose enough that when he pushed in, Spencer wouldn't get hurt.
“Third, pet, you're being such a good boy for me.”
The third finger was by far the worst. While Spencer knew he should be grateful, that not all doms are this nice to their pets and don't take so much time to prepare virgins before just fucking into them, it hurt so bad. Little jolts of electric hot pain thundered up his spine and through his nervous system. All he wanted was to push it out, and that was clearly out of his control.
“J-J-Mr. Walker,” Spencer murmured, running his tongue across his lips and feeling the sweat start to form atop his skin.
“It's alright, Spence, just a few more minutes,” Jon promised, still kissing his tail bone and sometimes ass cheeks softly and reassuringly. His fingers worked a perfect rhythm, trying to remain as gentle as they could while still doing their intended job.
Finally, when Jon was as pleased as he could be, he coated his dick in the lube after pulling on the condom. Really coated. No where went untouched by the sort of sticky substance.
Admittedly, he wished he could fuck Spencer bareback. But condoms are pretty good for the first time, mainly because they keep everything tighter. And he would hate to have everything go so perfectly, and then let Spencer just say no because Jon didn't fuck him that great.
He started slow, pushing his fully hard cock in inch by inch.
“You've got such a pretty, little, red ass, Spencer.” Jon smiled against his shoulder blade, pressing a kiss to the underside of his jaw. “What a good little whore boy. You love this, don't you? Getting fucked right after a spanking. So that whenever you sit down for the rest of the week, even during an interview or playing a stupid video game, you'll remember that your owner punished you. And you'll remember to be a better boy next time, won't you?”
Jon's cock was now fully burrowed in Spencer's ass, but he wasn't moving. It was always easier to start off slow, letting the body adjust. He'd move when Spencer gave the cue.
“I want to hear you say it, I love when Mr. Walker fucks my ass after my punishment.”
Spencer groaned, grinding his hips ever so slightly. Jon pulled out miniscule-y, and thrust back in, feeling Spencer moan more at the small move. “I love when Mr. Walker fucks my ass after my punishment,” he responded quickly. Jon was wishing to see how beautiful his blue eyes looked in this given moment.
Jon pulled out a little more, and pushed back in a little harder. Spencer groaned more at that, squeezing his ass around the hard cock as an indication of more.
“If you want more, or harder, you're gonna have to use your nice words,” Jon teased, circling his hips and feeling when Spencer's entire back shuddered. He assumed he'd found the sweet spot.
“Please, fuck me harder, Mr. Walker,” the young boy gasped. His moan was strikingly loud when Jon ejected his dick, only to drive it back in with so much more force than any time prior.
Spencer moaned beautiful notes, throwing back his head and loving how Jon gripped his hips with enough casual power to leave bruises that might last longer than those from the spanking just minutes ago.
Once a good pattern was worked between their two bodies, Spencer grew entranced by the sound of Jon's balls slapping against the tender skin of his ass. He worked harder to push out, trying to make the sound louder. His cock was getting somehow harder, and Spencer was almost sure he could die from blood loss to the brain. Seriously. Talk about thinking with the wrong head, as Ryan would say.
“Mr. Walker, would, would you please touch me? Please, please?” Spencer begged, feeling his entire body being bounced from just the pure strength of Jon's individual thrusts.
No response was heard, but Spencer undoubtly felt the hand that wrapped around his cock and began to pump in the most pleasuring of ways. Up, down, thumb, light squeeze. Too perfect. Stars were everywhere in those seconds, and he was well aware of how close he was to loosing it.
“Mr...Mr. Walker, I'm-I can't take anymore,” Spencer groaned, bucking his hips into Jon's hand and then feeling his hard dick hit his most sensitive of spots on the rebound. His body was being jostled all around, and it never felt so good to be aware of bruises.
“Ask, nicer,” Jon's tone was gruff, and it was obvious he was close too, if not closer than the younger.
“Mr. Walker, my I please cum?”
“Yes, pet,” Jon grinned, quickening his pace to hopefully finish before Spencer. All the built up sexual tension wasn't exactly helping him in
the long lasting department, but since the same could be said for Spencer, he didn't feel all that bad.
He felt the hips ramming into his fist stutter, and Spencer moaned at his loudest, before a series of sharp breaths and mild body convolutions came along. A twitcher. The orgasm flooded Spencer's body as he came with an unconstrained cry.
Jon followed suit, not even close to possessing the self control to continue on after the virgin pet in front of him finished his first fuck and came all over his hand with such, pretty, noises.
He pulled out, tugging the condom off and flipping Spencer over so he fell into the couch in proper sitting form. Jon pumped his cock, and quickly came all over Spencer's pale chest.
Before he even got the chance to say a word, he watched with pleased awe as the boy ran fingers over his body and coated them in the fresh cum, then sucked off everything, repeating the motions until he was considerably cleaner than a second before.
Jon smiled, gesturing for Spencer to stand and follow him. He lead him to his bunk, laying down and pulling the boy on top of him.
“You're a good pet, y'know?” Jon ran his fingers through Spencer's hair again, being cautious to use the cleaner hand.
“Thank you, Mr. Walker,” Spencer blushed, nuzzling his head down to Jon's chest.
“There are rules, to this, but we'll get to those some other time, yeah?”
“Please,” Spencer grinned, biting his lip and looking up to meet Jon's dark brown eyes.
His owner brought their lips together in a binding kiss, and then pulled away to peck Spencer's prominent nose.
“Sleep,” Jon smiled lightly, fisting his eyes with the hand that wasn't holding the small of Spencer's back.
And he no longer felt like just Spencer, after Jon fell asleep seconds after. Instead, he felt like... Spencer Smith, pet of Jon Walker.
Which was so much better than both being caught staring and a face full of Nutella and Walker crotch.
***
“What're they doing now?” Brendon peaked his head in the door, giggling maniacally.
Ryan followed suit, clutching Brendon's hand tightly and looking around. The bus appeared otherwise how they'd left it. “I dunno, sleeping?” Ryan laughed, pulling Brendon closer.
“They could catch us,” Brendon giggled on his lips, feeling Ryan pull him on his lap. Skinny knees supported his, admittedly curvaceous, ass, while Brendon's legs straddled the guitarists' itty bitty waist.
“Double the fun,” Ryan was already unbuttoning his shirt.
“No bus sex!” Zack whined, climbing on, and immediately off, the bus.
“But-” Brendon pouted, full on, looking like he just might make himself cry.
“It's okay,” Ryan giggled, pointing to the ripped condom wrapper and Brendon's lube bottle dropped on the floor. Clear imprints of bodies having had been just there pressed into the couch beside them. “Zack sleeps on that couch to avoid our bunks, anyway.” Ryan winked.