That Teenage Feeling, Jon/Brendon, NC-17, 2/2
Title: That Teenage Feeling
Author: boweryd
Rating: NC-17
Pairing: Jon/Brendon
Summary: So, Brendon has this problem where he’s maybe a technical virgin.
Disclaimer: I clearly don’t own any of these people and this clearly never happened.
Warnings: Just your normal gay sexy sexin’ things. Brendon is a giant failboat?
Author Notes: Title and cut text come from Neko Case’s “That Teenage Feeling,” and I really need to branch out for fic titles. Devendra Banhart’s “Now That I Know” is referenced vaguely within. A HUGE thanks to enhendi and paint_the_days for the awesome betas!
Part 1
Brendon’s awesome plans are further complicated when he maybe overestimates just a little when it comes to how much booze he needs to take the edge off and make his nerves stop thrumming under his skin the way are, and he winds up maybe a little drunk. The thing is, Brendon is always a handsy drunk, and now it’s, like, ten times worse because Jon is his, and as such he should be allowed to touch Jon whenever, however, and wherever he deems fit. And that’s how he ends up pushing Jon into a bathroom stall and sinking to his knees.
“Brendon, no, c’mon,” Jon says, reaching down to pull him up, but Brendon doesn’t want to get up, he wants to stay right here, thank you very much, with Jon’s crotch in his face. He leans in, rubs his cheek against Jon’s fly and Brendon can feel Jon go hard against him and that’s pretty hot. “That’s pretty hot,” he says, and his tongue feels thick and heavy in his mouth, and that just makes him think of other thick, heavy things that should be in his mouth, so he presses a trail of wet, open mouthed kisses up the line of Jon’s cock through his jeans. Jon’s hand clenches on his shoulder, and Brendon needs Jon’s pants to be off, like, now. When he reaches for the zipper, though, it’s like the hiss of the teeth opening breaks the air around them, and Jon’s hauling him up, pinning Brendon against the stall door with hot, heavy eyes.
“Jon-” he cuts Brendon off with a kiss, which is a good idea because Brendon has no idea what he was going to actually say. It isn’t one of their normal kisses, though; there’s an edge, and Jon’s lips aren’t gentle against his. They’re rough and seeking, and when Brendon opens his mouth and tilts his head back for Jon, he pulls away, tugging at Brendon’s bottom lip with his teeth a little and oh, that. That has Brendon’s hips surging up against Jon’s, grinding himself on Jon’s hip and it feels so good that he never, ever wants to stop. So of course Jon backs away, but his eyes are all hot and dirty when he looks at Brendon and says, “Back to the room, c’mon,” and this can only bode well, so well.
Jon keeps close to Brendon on the walk out of the club, and in the elevator he plasters himself against Brendon’s back, presses his face into Brendon’s neck, breaths in, and when the doors open he keeps his arm around Brendon’s waist, caging him and making them both stumble a little on the way down the hall. As soon as the door is open Jon turns and pins him against it, and yes, yes, Brendon likes this, he likes it very much and approves of this course of action. “Brendon,” Jon breaths wetly against his neck, “How drunk are you right now?”
“Hmm?” Brendon asks, trying to press himself closer, trying to get Jon to tilt his head up so he can get at his mouth. “How drunk,” Jon says again, and it sounds a little rougher this time, a little more like a growl, and Brendon has never met this Jon Walker but he is approving heartily so far.
“Not drunk, “ Brendon says a little desperately, and he’s only lying a little bit; Jon’s hot gaze is doing its part to sober him up quickly and Brendon wants this to be over, wants to be done with all the protecting his virtue shit and get to the touching already because he wants to touch Jon everywhere. “I can be sober,” he says when Jon doesn’t immediately respond, and he’s pressing closer to Jon’s body, digging his hands into the dip of Jon’s shoulders; he wants to climb him a little. “I can be so sober, Jon,” he says, and Jon finally eases up against him a little, just enough that Brendon can wiggle himself closer, find Jon’s mouth, lick inside.
“Jon, Jon, c’mon,” Brendon babbles against his lips, his throat, his jaw. “Want to, please, please let me touch you,” and Jon lets out this noise that sounds like he’s choking, and then he’s half carrying, half dragging Brendon across the room to the nearest bed, and yes.
“Tell me,” Jon says, his voice low and rough as he gets Brendon laid out on the bed.
“Tell you what?” Brendon is trying really hard to make his brain keep working but he’s so about to get lucky and Jon’s hands are big and warm and everywhere. “Anything,” Brendon says as Jon leans down to nip at his collarbone, “I’ll tell you anything.”
“Tell me,” Jon says into his ear as his hands work down the long row of buttons on Brendon’s shirt, “exactly what you’ve done,” and oh. Oh. Brendon is maybe a little embarrassed to tell Jon that, because it’s, well, not a lot, but Jon is kissing the flesh he finds each time he undoes another button, hot open mouthed kisses soothing sharp little bites, and he will, Brendon will tell Jon anything.
“Four kisses when I was sixteen during spin the bottle,” he gasps out as Jon’s tongue dips into his belly button, and he thought that might feel a little weird but it doesn’t, not even a little bit, not at all. “I made out with this girl named Lacey at a party when I was seventeen, but she was a smoker and it wasn’t awesome.” Jon huffs a little puff of breath out at that, a laugh that’s buried at the waist of Brendon’s jeans. “Au-Audrey,” he stutters out because Jon just unbuttoned his pants, oh god. “We both-” he breaks off into a moan when Jon unzips his jeans, kisses Brendon’s erection through the cotton of his underwear.
“C’mon,” Jon says and Brendon can feel the words against his cock and all he wants is to be inside of Jon’s mouth, like, now. “She blew me,” he gasps out, “but I wasn’t very good at the rest and it was mostly just really wet and confusing when we tried so we stopped trying, and then she told the internet I had a small dick, but I don’t, Jon, I don’t,” and he realizes he’s babbling but Jon is still mouthing at his cock through the cotton, pressing a light laugh into his hipbone.
“I believe you, Brendon,” he says, and then hey, his pants are gone! Jon Walker is kind of magic like that, because Brendon’s pants are gone, and his underwear are going, and then Jon’s moving up his body, and that doesn’t seem like the right direction to Brendon. “Bren,” he says, putting his hands on either side of Brendon’s face, making him look at Jon, making him focus. “You paying attention?” Brendon just nods, and squirms a little because if he can get like one inch to the left he could grind up against Jon’s leg. “Brendon.” And yeah, okay, right.
He brings his eyes back to Jon’s, stares, waits. “Sure?” is all Jon says and Brendon just nods furiously, “Yes, yes, yes,” spilling from his lips, “Please, I promise, I want to, wanted to, just wanted to make sure I could be good,” and he feels a little detached from his body right now, still a little drunk and really, really turned on and he only stops the nonstop babble pouring from his mouth when Jon latches onto his lips, grinds down, and oh, oh.
Brendon is so distracted by the feeling of Jon’s cock pressed against his, hard and perfect even through the layer of denim that he doesn’t really notice what Jon’s doing until Jon wraps his lips around the head of Brendon’s dick and bobs down a little, bringing his hand to wrap around the shaft, and holy shit. He bucks up, hard, and immediately feels bad about it, “Sorry, sorry, just, mouth on my dick. My dick!” and Jon pulls off, looks at him, and jesus his lips are shiny. “Shutting up now?” Brendon guesses, and Jon just smirks, presses it into Brendon’s thigh, and this time he places an arm across Brendon’s hips, loose enough that he can move but tight enough to keep him from, you know, choking Jon with his dick.
It would be totally sad if he killed Jon mid blowjob. He stops thinking about Jon’s untimely death and starts thinking oh my god because Jon’s tongue just hit this spot under the head of his dick, and he can feel it in his toes when Jon presses his tongue to it again, firmer, before licking back over the slit, and Brendon knows he is really, embarrassingly close but it’s still a surprise when he comes a second later when Jon’s fingers slip down to trail lightly over his hole. He knows there are like rules and things, and that he should have warned Jon, but he didn’t know okay, it can’t be his fault if he didn’t know, but he’s too busy hyperventilating right now to worry about it.
“Jon, Jon,” he says, and when he looks down Jon is licking a little bit of Brendon’s come from the corner of his mouth and that’s so hot, Brendon didn’t know everything would be this hot. He yanks Jon to him by his t-shirt, licks into his mouth, mummers apologies while he licks his taste from Jon’s mouth.
“Shit,” Jon says when he pulls away, gasping a little, and Brendon takes the opportunity, pounces on him, gets him on his back. “Too many clothes,” he says, and Jon obliges by taking off his shirt because Jon Walker is a gentleman. Brendon fumbles a little with Jon’s pants, and Jon lifts his hips to help Brendon out, slides down his jeans and underwear at once and oh, hello there, Jon Walker’s penis. How very nice to meet you!
Brendon realizes he maybe says that last part out loud when Jon snorts, and he blushes a little and it’s pretty much the cutest thing Brendon’s ever seen. “So I’m going to blow you now, and it’s going to be awesome,” Brendon tells him, and then he pretty much just drops his mouth over Jon’s cock, totally misjudges, and starts coughing and spluttering when Jon’s cock hits the back of his throat, pulling back quickly.
“Brendon,” Jon says, and Brendon doesn’t want to look up, doesn’t want Jon to change his mind or make fun of him, but Jon just says his name again, and when Brendon looks up Jon raises a hand to cup the side of his face. “Slow down, okay? M’not going anywhere,” and okay. That makes Brendon feel a little better, and he slides back down, takes a deep breath.
“Wrap your hand around the base,” Jon says quietly, “so you don’t go too far,” and Brendon nods, finds the instruction strangely reassuring. He can totally do this. He can blow the crap out of Jon. He leans down, takes a little lick at the head, and feels Jon tense under him.
“Bad?”
“N-no,” Jon says, breath stuttering out. “No, you’re doing good, it’s so good,” and Brendon nods to himself, because he’s totally a secret blowjob master, he knows it. He goes down in earnest this time, sucking the head of Jon’s dick into his mouth, letting his tongue swirl around like Jon had done to him, tries to find that same spot. Jon’s hands are clenching in the blankets, white knuckled, so Brendon looks up, pulls off, and there’s this kind of funny little pop! noise at that.
“Jon, touch me, it’s okay, c’mon,” and when he leans back down Jon threads his fingers into Brendon’s hair, not pushing or guiding, just resting, skritching a little at his scalp, calluses dragging over the sweet spot behind his ear. He’s reminded ridiculously of feeling like a kitty again and he purrs a little around Jon’s cock and oh, okay, apparently that’s a good thing because Jon’s fingers in his hair tighten almost painfully.
“Brendon, c’mon, you gotta,” Jon grits out, and Brendon realizes he’s mostly just watching Jon, his mouth around Jon’s cock but not actually moving, and he twists his hand a little around the bottom, touches Jon like he touches himself, and there’s this little tang in his mouth now, salty and heavy and all of a sudden Brendon wants nothing more than for Jon Walker to come in his mouth. Check him out. Brendon Urie: Total Sex Pervert. Screw being an Asexual Cuddling Master, this will look so much cooler on his business cards. He pulls off to run his hand over Jon a few times, just long strokes; he wants to see how it looks, Jon’s cock in his hand, and when his thumb brushes over the head on the down stroke Jon suddenly tenses and comes, hard and messy all over Brendon’s hand and his own thigh.
“Shit,” Brendon says, mostly to himself, but he makes do, licks the come off of his hand, decides he kind of likes it, and leans back down to lick the rest from Jon’s thigh. “Brendon, shit,” Jon says, and then he’s being pulled up the bed and pressed to Jon’s side, and Jon’s hands are everywhere, stroking and petting, and it’s pretty awesome, his skin still tingly from his orgasm, Jon’s hands wide and strong against his skin.
“That was so much better than anything ever,” Brendon sighs happily into Jon’s skin, and he can feel Jon’s laugh rumble through his entire chest. “Hey, no,” Brendon says and clings a little when he feels Jon try to get up. But he’s pretty sure he’s not supposed to be clingy after sex, so he quickly amends it with an “Or, whatever,” and lets go. Jon grins, drops a kiss to his forehead, and says, “I’m just gonna get the lights.” Brendon does not even pretend to not stare at Jon’s ass when he walks toward the light switch.
Speaking of. “Hey,” Brendon says as the rooms plunges into darkness, “when are we gonna,” but then Jon’s climbing back into bed, spreading the comforter over them, curling up warm against Brendon’s back. “Shh,” Jon whispers against his neck, “there’s time for that.”
*
The next morning, Brendon is maybe skipping a little as he follows Jon out of the elevator and into the lobby, humming A Whole New World quietly to himself, and Spencer says, “HAH!” really loudly and holds his hand out to Ryan. “$50, dude, you never bet against A Whole New World, come on, pay up.”
“Coulda been Part Of Your World,” Ryan mumbles and he hands a wad of crumpled bills to Spencer.
*
Brendon hates the bus a little, but only a little because it’s all Ryan and Spencer’s fault, really, with their ridiculous Rules For PDA, it’s not really the bus’s fault that Ryan and Spencer are dicks. Spencer had gotten the rules laminated and there was a copy in every room. Brendon has no idea how he managed that, but he doesn’t like to ask too many questions about how Spencer gets things done in general. He’s still holding out hope that Spencer maybe has some mysterious super power, or is also a secret genie in addition to being a creeping ninja. When he shares this theory with Jon, he’s rewarded with a careful head tilt and a, “Huh. That maybe makes a little sense.” They both hum Friend Like Me around Spencer for the rest of the day.
That does not change the fact that there are now rules for how Brendon is allowed to touch Jon, and there were never rules before so he mostly wears Ryan and Spencer down by steadfastly refusing to honor the rules: curling up in Jon’s lap during movies, leaning against his knees while he plays Mario Kart, shuffling over to rest his head on Jon’s shoulder during breakfast. The only rule they really refuse to relent on is the whole “No Sex Anywhere, Ever, In, On, or Around This Bus,” and, despite Brendon’s protests, even Jon tries to honor that one.
At least he does until he pulls the curtain back on Brendon’s bunk a few days later and finds him straining down onto one of his fingers, fisting his cock. Then Jon mostly just hisses out air, swats Brendon’s hand away, and climbs into the bunk beside him. Ryan and Spencer are out shopping, and Brendon is hopeful.
“Hi?” he says questioningly, because Jon still hasn’t said anything, just staring down at Brendon, legs still spread wide and hard cock resting in his frozen fist. Jon slowly brings his hand down, brushes fingers against Brendon’s hole, and shit, yes please.
“Brendon,” Jon says tightly between his teeth, eyes squeezed close. “Were you seriously not using lube? Lotion? Spit? Anything?”
Oh. Yeah, that makes sense. “No?” he says. “It was kind of a last minute, um, ngh,” and Jon just lowered his head and licked Brendon’s asshole. Brendon totally did some gay research; he knows that this is a thing that people can do, but he never would have asked, and then Jon swipes his tongue up to Brendon’s balls, and he keens, arches up against Jon’s mouth. Jon sits back and Brendon wants to cry, the loss of sensation is so great, but he just whimpers a little, looks at Jon with his best pleading eyes.
“Turn over,” Jon says, low and dark, and It makes something in Brendon’s belly curl up tight, pressing against the edges, wanting out. As soon as Brendon is over on his stomach, cock caught immobile between his belly and the bed, Jon’s mouth is back, tongue swirling and pushing in, gently, and everything’s so wet. Brendon is panting against his pillow, he can’t help it, and he only realizes he’s pushing his hips back into Jon’s face when his cock drags over the sheets but Jon’s tongue is inside of him, flicking around and Brendon comes, sudden and hard, without a hand on his cock.
He collapses into the bed, heavy and boneless and tingly everywhere, but Jon’s not done, just pauses to breath out, “Holy shit, Bren,” against the cheek of Brendon’s ass, and then Brendon feels something blunt and wet pressing in. Jon says, “Relax,” light and soft, hand pressing down at the small of Brendon’s back to lower his hips back down a bit, “don’t tense up,” and Brendon tries, breathes out deeply, lets himself focus on the hum of orgasm running over his skin, and suddenly Jon’s finger is inside, and Brendon can feel his calluses drag and shit, shit, that’s so hot.
He whines and presses back, against Jon’s finger, says, “Jon, c’mon, you can, you have to,” and Brendon can’t help it, he lets out a whine low in his throat when Jon pulls his finger out and says, “I can’t,” and Brendon’s about to protest because he really, really can, but then Brendon hears the cabinets in the front lounge squeak, and fucking Ryan and Spencer, fuck fuck fuck. “Wait five minutes,” Jon says, and presses a soft kiss to Brendon’s lips before sliding out of the bunk. It should maybe freak him out a little, considering where Jon’s mouth has just been, but mostly Brendon just wants more.
When he stumbles into the front of the bus with the others a few minutes later, Ryan takes one look at him and says, “Spencer, fucker, give me my $50 back; I told you they couldn’t go a week.”
*
The thing is, Brendon is trying to be good; he really is. He understands that the bus is a communal space, and he supposes he would be pretty grossed out if he had to wonder if someone had been fucked on the couch every time he sat down, but, like, Jon keeps pinning him with these looks all hot and dark and venue closets and venue showers and quick, quiet hand jobs in the bunks are only making him want it more, want it harder, and he would really appreciate a hotel night, okay, because he’s pretty sure Jon’s going to fuck him soon.
He knows this because last night, while he was biting down on Jon’s forearm to muffle his noise while Jon stroked him, Jon said into his ear, “Wanna fuck you, Bren, need to,” and then Brendon came all over the place which was pretty inconvenient because he’d just done laundry the day before. But whatever, Jon is going to fuck him and it’s going to be pretty awesome.
“Guys,” Brendon says as they’re all in the front lounge, waiting for Jon and Zack to get back with coffee, “Guys, I’m going to have sex and it’s going to be pretty cool, I bet.”
Spencer quirks an eyebrow at him, “What exactly have you two been doing if not having sex?”
“They have been having sex,” Ryan says, not even opening his eyes where he’s stretched out on the couch. “Jon’s bunk is right underneath mine, remember?”
“No, no,” Brendon says excitedly, “like, we’re gonna have sex, boy on boy sexy good times, with our dicks.”
“Brendon,” Spencer says, staring.
“Dude,” Ryan says, sitting up on the couch. “Dude, no. You do not talk about that. Like. Ever.” His eyes are really big when he says it, and Brendon figures he must be pretty serious, since he’s making expressions and everything.
Jon and Zack come clambering up the bus steps, and Brendon makes grabby hands at Jon, receiving a hot chocolate and a bonus muffin for his troubles. Jon glances over at Ryan and Spencer and says, “What’s wrong with them?”
“I’m not allowed to tell them about stuff involving our dicks,” Brendon says around a mouth full of muffin. Mmm, blueberry.
“Right,” Zack says. “Leaving. Soundcheck in two hours.”
*
When Jon grabs Brendon by the elbow as he passes the bunks and yanks him down, Brendon is a little confused. But then also Jon is naked so he’s not going to say no, or anything. “Hey, hey, you’re naked,” he says, and bounces on his knees a little. He’s kind of excited.
“You should maybe be naked now too,” Jon says, reaching behind him to dig between the mattress and the wall. Brendon is not going to argue with this. He is also not going to argue about how he is suddenly pressed flush against Jon, Jon’s cock nudging at Brendon’s ass, because yes, hi, this please. More of this. Jon leans in close, and says, “Brendon? Ryan and Spencer are in the back lounge right now, watching a movie. That doesn’t mean you don’t need to be quiet, though.”
Which okay, Brendon can do that; he can be totally quiet, except for how Jon just started circling a wet finger around Brendon’s hole, pushing in slightly, and Brendon lets out a really loud moan without even thinking about it. “O-Oops?” he says, and then, hey, Jon’s hand is coming up, covering his mouth, and that’s pretty hot, he has to say. Brendon clutches onto Jon’s forearm, squeezes his eyes shut tight as Jon’s finger gets more insistent, and it burns a little, stings, but it also feels really good, Jon wrapped all around him and Jon inside of him. Once Jon gets his finger in a little, it slides in easier, and Brendon can feel it pushing and dragging inside of him.
“Okay?” Jon says, hot against his ear, and Brendon just nods against his hand, lets out a muffled sound of assent. Jon crooks his finger up a little, shifts it a bit and holy god, Brendon’s entire body jerks and he whimpers helplessly against Jon’s hand as sparks shoot up and down his spine. “Yeah,” Jon pants against his ear, “yeah, Bren,” and Brendon feels Jon’s cock hard and a little wet where it’s rubbing up against him, and oh he wants, and it’s not enough, just Jon’s finger.
“Mph,” he says against Jon’s hand, and that’s not getting the point across, he thinks. He bites down on the fleshy part of Jon’s palm, kind of hard, and Jon just hisses, so Brendon struggles against his palm until his mouth is free, whispers, “More, Jon, c’mon,” and then he whines low in his throat when Jon pulls his finger out altogether. “No, no, more, not less,” Brendon says, maybe a little desperately.
Jon just chuckles, and sets a kiss on Brendon’s temple. They’re both pretty sweaty - it’s hot in the bunk, pressed up like this, doing this - but Brendon just wants him closer. “Trust me,” Jon says, low and dark, “you’re going to want more lube.” And he slicks up two fingers this time, leans back down, presses in, and shit, shit. He hits right against that spot again and Brendon can’t even focus on the stretch, the burn of two fingers, because god, god, he wants Jon to never stop touching him.
He whimpers kind of pitifully against Jon’s hand, squirms back against Jon’s fingers, and when Jon twists them Brendon can feel it and he feels like he’s going to explode out of his skin. “Quiet, quiet,” Jon whispers in his ear, and then his hand is gone from his mouth and sliding down to wrap hot and wet around Brendon’s cock and that’s it; Brendon’s gone, spurting over Jon’s fist. He whimpers a little when Jon pulls his fingers out, and he feels a little empty, a lot hot, and when he looks over at Jon, Jon is fisting his own cock, staring at Brendon, and he holds the gaze while Jon comes, panting wetly into the dark of the bunk.
*
“Jon Walker, did you light a candle?” Brendon asks when he walks into the room. Jon looks down at the carpet, shuffles his feet a little, mumbles something about Spencer being a dick and slipping it into his bag. He’s kind of adorable. Brendon very much wants to have sex with him now.
“I very much want to have sex with you now,” Brendon says, and takes a running start, flopping down onto the mattress, “Take me now, you brute!”
“Brute? Seriously?” Jon asks, and Brendon just shrugs. He’d maybe been covertly reading another one of Ryan’s Harlequins about a rugged farm hand.
*
Jon’s cock? Turns out to be much bigger than his fingers, but also so much better, and Brendon squeezes his eyes closed, tries to focus on the little surge of pleasure that’s underneath the pain of the stretch. “Bren,” Jon says, and he palms Brendon’s cheek, makes him open his eyes. “I got you, okay? Breathe.”
So Brendon breathes, and the head of Jon’s cock slips inside, and oh, oh. Jon stills, grips down tightly on the back of Brendon’s thighs. “You okay?”
“Yeah, yeah, just . . . just a second, just a second,” and Jon nods, leans over to kiss Brendon’s knee, and shit, it’s just so sweet he wants to die a little. “C’mon,” he says, wiggling against Jon; he doesn’t care if it hurts; he wants it all, wants it now, wants Jon.
Then Jon’s moving, pressing in slow, so slow, and Brendon can feel himself opening up around Jon’s cock and it’s, shit, it’s just so much; he feels like there’s something trying to scratch its way out of his chest. That’s got to be it, there can’t be any more, he’s seen Jon’s cock and he does not remember it being four feet long, but Jon’s still pushing in, then finally he stills and Brendon’s so full. He shifts a little, trying to get used to it, and then Jon says, “Hey, look at me,” and when Brendon meets Jon’s eyes they’re dark, wide, searching his face. “Okay?”
Brendon just nods, reaches up and pulls Jon down to get at his mouth. Jon kisses him deep and wet, and when he shifts a little his cock hits something inside of Brendon and then he’s sobbing into Jon’s mouth, can’t even help himself. “Shit, Brendon, can I, please, I need to,” Jon’s gasping against his mouth, holding himself so still that Brendon can feel where his arms are shaking.
“Yeah, c’mon, c’mon,” Brendon says and there’s only a slight twinge when he lifts his legs up, wraps them around Jon’s waist, and then Jon’s moving, these shallow, short little thrusts that make Brendon’s breath stutter out. “Jon, more,” he says brokenly, and there’s this weird feeling as Jon pulls out a little, this drag that’s not entirely unpleasant, and when Jon thrusts back in he hits that spot again, and Brendon’s entire body feels like it’s about to fall apart.
Jon keeps his thrusts steady, so that every time he pushes in there’s this explosion of pleasure up Brendon’s spine. “Bren,” Jon says, strained, “You gotta, I can’t . . . so tight,” and then he’s wrapping his hand around Brendon’s cock, and he doesn’t even get a full stroke in before Brendon’s coming in hot stripes across his own belly. Jon pushes in, deep, and Brendon can feel Jon’s cock twitch inside of him as he comes, and shit, SHIT, that was awesome.
“Jon, Jon, that was awesome,” he says, and Jon grins down at him, leans down to kiss him softly.
“This is gonna feel a little weird, okay?” Jon warns as he slides slowly out, and it does, it really does. It feels like Jon’s pulling him inside out, but when he’s gone Brendon feels a little empty, and he makes grabby hands at Jon. Jon just smiles down at him, wide and blinding. He says, “I’ll be right back, condom, washcloth, unsexy things,” and Brendon cringes a little when he twists his body around to settle down into the bed.
He watches as Jon walks to the bathroom, and as soon as the door closes he lowers one hand, runs his finger lightly over his hole. His skin feels a little puffy, tender, but Brendon feels loose and happy, because he totally just had awesome sex with Jon Walker. Jon walks back out with a washcloth in one hand, wipes off Brendon’s belly, and oh, Brendon wants to keep him forever. “Jon,” Brendon says, and smiles when Jon tosses the cloth at the chair in the corner, crawls up Brendon’s body on the bed.
“Good?” Jon asks Brendon’s hair once he’s settled against Jon’s side. “So, so good,” Brendon says, and he twists around to kiss Jon, light and easy. “When do we get to do it again?” Jon laughs a little against his throat, pulls Brendon down to rest against him.
“As soon as I finish my internet post about your dick, Bren, I’ll be good to go.”
Brendon nods, snuggles down against Jon’s chest, and then, wait. “Joking, right.” Brendon says, “Joking, Jon, right?”
Author: boweryd
Rating: NC-17
Pairing: Jon/Brendon
Summary: So, Brendon has this problem where he’s maybe a technical virgin.
Disclaimer: I clearly don’t own any of these people and this clearly never happened.
Warnings: Just your normal gay sexy sexin’ things. Brendon is a giant failboat?
Author Notes: Title and cut text come from Neko Case’s “That Teenage Feeling,” and I really need to branch out for fic titles. Devendra Banhart’s “Now That I Know” is referenced vaguely within. A HUGE thanks to enhendi and paint_the_days for the awesome betas!
Part 1
Brendon’s awesome plans are further complicated when he maybe overestimates just a little when it comes to how much booze he needs to take the edge off and make his nerves stop thrumming under his skin the way are, and he winds up maybe a little drunk. The thing is, Brendon is always a handsy drunk, and now it’s, like, ten times worse because Jon is his, and as such he should be allowed to touch Jon whenever, however, and wherever he deems fit. And that’s how he ends up pushing Jon into a bathroom stall and sinking to his knees.
“Brendon, no, c’mon,” Jon says, reaching down to pull him up, but Brendon doesn’t want to get up, he wants to stay right here, thank you very much, with Jon’s crotch in his face. He leans in, rubs his cheek against Jon’s fly and Brendon can feel Jon go hard against him and that’s pretty hot. “That’s pretty hot,” he says, and his tongue feels thick and heavy in his mouth, and that just makes him think of other thick, heavy things that should be in his mouth, so he presses a trail of wet, open mouthed kisses up the line of Jon’s cock through his jeans. Jon’s hand clenches on his shoulder, and Brendon needs Jon’s pants to be off, like, now. When he reaches for the zipper, though, it’s like the hiss of the teeth opening breaks the air around them, and Jon’s hauling him up, pinning Brendon against the stall door with hot, heavy eyes.
“Jon-” he cuts Brendon off with a kiss, which is a good idea because Brendon has no idea what he was going to actually say. It isn’t one of their normal kisses, though; there’s an edge, and Jon’s lips aren’t gentle against his. They’re rough and seeking, and when Brendon opens his mouth and tilts his head back for Jon, he pulls away, tugging at Brendon’s bottom lip with his teeth a little and oh, that. That has Brendon’s hips surging up against Jon’s, grinding himself on Jon’s hip and it feels so good that he never, ever wants to stop. So of course Jon backs away, but his eyes are all hot and dirty when he looks at Brendon and says, “Back to the room, c’mon,” and this can only bode well, so well.
Jon keeps close to Brendon on the walk out of the club, and in the elevator he plasters himself against Brendon’s back, presses his face into Brendon’s neck, breaths in, and when the doors open he keeps his arm around Brendon’s waist, caging him and making them both stumble a little on the way down the hall. As soon as the door is open Jon turns and pins him against it, and yes, yes, Brendon likes this, he likes it very much and approves of this course of action. “Brendon,” Jon breaths wetly against his neck, “How drunk are you right now?”
“Hmm?” Brendon asks, trying to press himself closer, trying to get Jon to tilt his head up so he can get at his mouth. “How drunk,” Jon says again, and it sounds a little rougher this time, a little more like a growl, and Brendon has never met this Jon Walker but he is approving heartily so far.
“Not drunk, “ Brendon says a little desperately, and he’s only lying a little bit; Jon’s hot gaze is doing its part to sober him up quickly and Brendon wants this to be over, wants to be done with all the protecting his virtue shit and get to the touching already because he wants to touch Jon everywhere. “I can be sober,” he says when Jon doesn’t immediately respond, and he’s pressing closer to Jon’s body, digging his hands into the dip of Jon’s shoulders; he wants to climb him a little. “I can be so sober, Jon,” he says, and Jon finally eases up against him a little, just enough that Brendon can wiggle himself closer, find Jon’s mouth, lick inside.
“Jon, Jon, c’mon,” Brendon babbles against his lips, his throat, his jaw. “Want to, please, please let me touch you,” and Jon lets out this noise that sounds like he’s choking, and then he’s half carrying, half dragging Brendon across the room to the nearest bed, and yes.
“Tell me,” Jon says, his voice low and rough as he gets Brendon laid out on the bed.
“Tell you what?” Brendon is trying really hard to make his brain keep working but he’s so about to get lucky and Jon’s hands are big and warm and everywhere. “Anything,” Brendon says as Jon leans down to nip at his collarbone, “I’ll tell you anything.”
“Tell me,” Jon says into his ear as his hands work down the long row of buttons on Brendon’s shirt, “exactly what you’ve done,” and oh. Oh. Brendon is maybe a little embarrassed to tell Jon that, because it’s, well, not a lot, but Jon is kissing the flesh he finds each time he undoes another button, hot open mouthed kisses soothing sharp little bites, and he will, Brendon will tell Jon anything.
“Four kisses when I was sixteen during spin the bottle,” he gasps out as Jon’s tongue dips into his belly button, and he thought that might feel a little weird but it doesn’t, not even a little bit, not at all. “I made out with this girl named Lacey at a party when I was seventeen, but she was a smoker and it wasn’t awesome.” Jon huffs a little puff of breath out at that, a laugh that’s buried at the waist of Brendon’s jeans. “Au-Audrey,” he stutters out because Jon just unbuttoned his pants, oh god. “We both-” he breaks off into a moan when Jon unzips his jeans, kisses Brendon’s erection through the cotton of his underwear.
“C’mon,” Jon says and Brendon can feel the words against his cock and all he wants is to be inside of Jon’s mouth, like, now. “She blew me,” he gasps out, “but I wasn’t very good at the rest and it was mostly just really wet and confusing when we tried so we stopped trying, and then she told the internet I had a small dick, but I don’t, Jon, I don’t,” and he realizes he’s babbling but Jon is still mouthing at his cock through the cotton, pressing a light laugh into his hipbone.
“I believe you, Brendon,” he says, and then hey, his pants are gone! Jon Walker is kind of magic like that, because Brendon’s pants are gone, and his underwear are going, and then Jon’s moving up his body, and that doesn’t seem like the right direction to Brendon. “Bren,” he says, putting his hands on either side of Brendon’s face, making him look at Jon, making him focus. “You paying attention?” Brendon just nods, and squirms a little because if he can get like one inch to the left he could grind up against Jon’s leg. “Brendon.” And yeah, okay, right.
He brings his eyes back to Jon’s, stares, waits. “Sure?” is all Jon says and Brendon just nods furiously, “Yes, yes, yes,” spilling from his lips, “Please, I promise, I want to, wanted to, just wanted to make sure I could be good,” and he feels a little detached from his body right now, still a little drunk and really, really turned on and he only stops the nonstop babble pouring from his mouth when Jon latches onto his lips, grinds down, and oh, oh.
Brendon is so distracted by the feeling of Jon’s cock pressed against his, hard and perfect even through the layer of denim that he doesn’t really notice what Jon’s doing until Jon wraps his lips around the head of Brendon’s dick and bobs down a little, bringing his hand to wrap around the shaft, and holy shit. He bucks up, hard, and immediately feels bad about it, “Sorry, sorry, just, mouth on my dick. My dick!” and Jon pulls off, looks at him, and jesus his lips are shiny. “Shutting up now?” Brendon guesses, and Jon just smirks, presses it into Brendon’s thigh, and this time he places an arm across Brendon’s hips, loose enough that he can move but tight enough to keep him from, you know, choking Jon with his dick.
It would be totally sad if he killed Jon mid blowjob. He stops thinking about Jon’s untimely death and starts thinking oh my god because Jon’s tongue just hit this spot under the head of his dick, and he can feel it in his toes when Jon presses his tongue to it again, firmer, before licking back over the slit, and Brendon knows he is really, embarrassingly close but it’s still a surprise when he comes a second later when Jon’s fingers slip down to trail lightly over his hole. He knows there are like rules and things, and that he should have warned Jon, but he didn’t know okay, it can’t be his fault if he didn’t know, but he’s too busy hyperventilating right now to worry about it.
“Jon, Jon,” he says, and when he looks down Jon is licking a little bit of Brendon’s come from the corner of his mouth and that’s so hot, Brendon didn’t know everything would be this hot. He yanks Jon to him by his t-shirt, licks into his mouth, mummers apologies while he licks his taste from Jon’s mouth.
“Shit,” Jon says when he pulls away, gasping a little, and Brendon takes the opportunity, pounces on him, gets him on his back. “Too many clothes,” he says, and Jon obliges by taking off his shirt because Jon Walker is a gentleman. Brendon fumbles a little with Jon’s pants, and Jon lifts his hips to help Brendon out, slides down his jeans and underwear at once and oh, hello there, Jon Walker’s penis. How very nice to meet you!
Brendon realizes he maybe says that last part out loud when Jon snorts, and he blushes a little and it’s pretty much the cutest thing Brendon’s ever seen. “So I’m going to blow you now, and it’s going to be awesome,” Brendon tells him, and then he pretty much just drops his mouth over Jon’s cock, totally misjudges, and starts coughing and spluttering when Jon’s cock hits the back of his throat, pulling back quickly.
“Brendon,” Jon says, and Brendon doesn’t want to look up, doesn’t want Jon to change his mind or make fun of him, but Jon just says his name again, and when Brendon looks up Jon raises a hand to cup the side of his face. “Slow down, okay? M’not going anywhere,” and okay. That makes Brendon feel a little better, and he slides back down, takes a deep breath.
“Wrap your hand around the base,” Jon says quietly, “so you don’t go too far,” and Brendon nods, finds the instruction strangely reassuring. He can totally do this. He can blow the crap out of Jon. He leans down, takes a little lick at the head, and feels Jon tense under him.
“Bad?”
“N-no,” Jon says, breath stuttering out. “No, you’re doing good, it’s so good,” and Brendon nods to himself, because he’s totally a secret blowjob master, he knows it. He goes down in earnest this time, sucking the head of Jon’s dick into his mouth, letting his tongue swirl around like Jon had done to him, tries to find that same spot. Jon’s hands are clenching in the blankets, white knuckled, so Brendon looks up, pulls off, and there’s this kind of funny little pop! noise at that.
“Jon, touch me, it’s okay, c’mon,” and when he leans back down Jon threads his fingers into Brendon’s hair, not pushing or guiding, just resting, skritching a little at his scalp, calluses dragging over the sweet spot behind his ear. He’s reminded ridiculously of feeling like a kitty again and he purrs a little around Jon’s cock and oh, okay, apparently that’s a good thing because Jon’s fingers in his hair tighten almost painfully.
“Brendon, c’mon, you gotta,” Jon grits out, and Brendon realizes he’s mostly just watching Jon, his mouth around Jon’s cock but not actually moving, and he twists his hand a little around the bottom, touches Jon like he touches himself, and there’s this little tang in his mouth now, salty and heavy and all of a sudden Brendon wants nothing more than for Jon Walker to come in his mouth. Check him out. Brendon Urie: Total Sex Pervert. Screw being an Asexual Cuddling Master, this will look so much cooler on his business cards. He pulls off to run his hand over Jon a few times, just long strokes; he wants to see how it looks, Jon’s cock in his hand, and when his thumb brushes over the head on the down stroke Jon suddenly tenses and comes, hard and messy all over Brendon’s hand and his own thigh.
“Shit,” Brendon says, mostly to himself, but he makes do, licks the come off of his hand, decides he kind of likes it, and leans back down to lick the rest from Jon’s thigh. “Brendon, shit,” Jon says, and then he’s being pulled up the bed and pressed to Jon’s side, and Jon’s hands are everywhere, stroking and petting, and it’s pretty awesome, his skin still tingly from his orgasm, Jon’s hands wide and strong against his skin.
“That was so much better than anything ever,” Brendon sighs happily into Jon’s skin, and he can feel Jon’s laugh rumble through his entire chest. “Hey, no,” Brendon says and clings a little when he feels Jon try to get up. But he’s pretty sure he’s not supposed to be clingy after sex, so he quickly amends it with an “Or, whatever,” and lets go. Jon grins, drops a kiss to his forehead, and says, “I’m just gonna get the lights.” Brendon does not even pretend to not stare at Jon’s ass when he walks toward the light switch.
Speaking of. “Hey,” Brendon says as the rooms plunges into darkness, “when are we gonna,” but then Jon’s climbing back into bed, spreading the comforter over them, curling up warm against Brendon’s back. “Shh,” Jon whispers against his neck, “there’s time for that.”
*
The next morning, Brendon is maybe skipping a little as he follows Jon out of the elevator and into the lobby, humming A Whole New World quietly to himself, and Spencer says, “HAH!” really loudly and holds his hand out to Ryan. “$50, dude, you never bet against A Whole New World, come on, pay up.”
“Coulda been Part Of Your World,” Ryan mumbles and he hands a wad of crumpled bills to Spencer.
*
Brendon hates the bus a little, but only a little because it’s all Ryan and Spencer’s fault, really, with their ridiculous Rules For PDA, it’s not really the bus’s fault that Ryan and Spencer are dicks. Spencer had gotten the rules laminated and there was a copy in every room. Brendon has no idea how he managed that, but he doesn’t like to ask too many questions about how Spencer gets things done in general. He’s still holding out hope that Spencer maybe has some mysterious super power, or is also a secret genie in addition to being a creeping ninja. When he shares this theory with Jon, he’s rewarded with a careful head tilt and a, “Huh. That maybe makes a little sense.” They both hum Friend Like Me around Spencer for the rest of the day.
That does not change the fact that there are now rules for how Brendon is allowed to touch Jon, and there were never rules before so he mostly wears Ryan and Spencer down by steadfastly refusing to honor the rules: curling up in Jon’s lap during movies, leaning against his knees while he plays Mario Kart, shuffling over to rest his head on Jon’s shoulder during breakfast. The only rule they really refuse to relent on is the whole “No Sex Anywhere, Ever, In, On, or Around This Bus,” and, despite Brendon’s protests, even Jon tries to honor that one.
At least he does until he pulls the curtain back on Brendon’s bunk a few days later and finds him straining down onto one of his fingers, fisting his cock. Then Jon mostly just hisses out air, swats Brendon’s hand away, and climbs into the bunk beside him. Ryan and Spencer are out shopping, and Brendon is hopeful.
“Hi?” he says questioningly, because Jon still hasn’t said anything, just staring down at Brendon, legs still spread wide and hard cock resting in his frozen fist. Jon slowly brings his hand down, brushes fingers against Brendon’s hole, and shit, yes please.
“Brendon,” Jon says tightly between his teeth, eyes squeezed close. “Were you seriously not using lube? Lotion? Spit? Anything?”
Oh. Yeah, that makes sense. “No?” he says. “It was kind of a last minute, um, ngh,” and Jon just lowered his head and licked Brendon’s asshole. Brendon totally did some gay research; he knows that this is a thing that people can do, but he never would have asked, and then Jon swipes his tongue up to Brendon’s balls, and he keens, arches up against Jon’s mouth. Jon sits back and Brendon wants to cry, the loss of sensation is so great, but he just whimpers a little, looks at Jon with his best pleading eyes.
“Turn over,” Jon says, low and dark, and It makes something in Brendon’s belly curl up tight, pressing against the edges, wanting out. As soon as Brendon is over on his stomach, cock caught immobile between his belly and the bed, Jon’s mouth is back, tongue swirling and pushing in, gently, and everything’s so wet. Brendon is panting against his pillow, he can’t help it, and he only realizes he’s pushing his hips back into Jon’s face when his cock drags over the sheets but Jon’s tongue is inside of him, flicking around and Brendon comes, sudden and hard, without a hand on his cock.
He collapses into the bed, heavy and boneless and tingly everywhere, but Jon’s not done, just pauses to breath out, “Holy shit, Bren,” against the cheek of Brendon’s ass, and then Brendon feels something blunt and wet pressing in. Jon says, “Relax,” light and soft, hand pressing down at the small of Brendon’s back to lower his hips back down a bit, “don’t tense up,” and Brendon tries, breathes out deeply, lets himself focus on the hum of orgasm running over his skin, and suddenly Jon’s finger is inside, and Brendon can feel his calluses drag and shit, shit, that’s so hot.
He whines and presses back, against Jon’s finger, says, “Jon, c’mon, you can, you have to,” and Brendon can’t help it, he lets out a whine low in his throat when Jon pulls his finger out and says, “I can’t,” and Brendon’s about to protest because he really, really can, but then Brendon hears the cabinets in the front lounge squeak, and fucking Ryan and Spencer, fuck fuck fuck. “Wait five minutes,” Jon says, and presses a soft kiss to Brendon’s lips before sliding out of the bunk. It should maybe freak him out a little, considering where Jon’s mouth has just been, but mostly Brendon just wants more.
When he stumbles into the front of the bus with the others a few minutes later, Ryan takes one look at him and says, “Spencer, fucker, give me my $50 back; I told you they couldn’t go a week.”
*
The thing is, Brendon is trying to be good; he really is. He understands that the bus is a communal space, and he supposes he would be pretty grossed out if he had to wonder if someone had been fucked on the couch every time he sat down, but, like, Jon keeps pinning him with these looks all hot and dark and venue closets and venue showers and quick, quiet hand jobs in the bunks are only making him want it more, want it harder, and he would really appreciate a hotel night, okay, because he’s pretty sure Jon’s going to fuck him soon.
He knows this because last night, while he was biting down on Jon’s forearm to muffle his noise while Jon stroked him, Jon said into his ear, “Wanna fuck you, Bren, need to,” and then Brendon came all over the place which was pretty inconvenient because he’d just done laundry the day before. But whatever, Jon is going to fuck him and it’s going to be pretty awesome.
“Guys,” Brendon says as they’re all in the front lounge, waiting for Jon and Zack to get back with coffee, “Guys, I’m going to have sex and it’s going to be pretty cool, I bet.”
Spencer quirks an eyebrow at him, “What exactly have you two been doing if not having sex?”
“They have been having sex,” Ryan says, not even opening his eyes where he’s stretched out on the couch. “Jon’s bunk is right underneath mine, remember?”
“No, no,” Brendon says excitedly, “like, we’re gonna have sex, boy on boy sexy good times, with our dicks.”
“Brendon,” Spencer says, staring.
“Dude,” Ryan says, sitting up on the couch. “Dude, no. You do not talk about that. Like. Ever.” His eyes are really big when he says it, and Brendon figures he must be pretty serious, since he’s making expressions and everything.
Jon and Zack come clambering up the bus steps, and Brendon makes grabby hands at Jon, receiving a hot chocolate and a bonus muffin for his troubles. Jon glances over at Ryan and Spencer and says, “What’s wrong with them?”
“I’m not allowed to tell them about stuff involving our dicks,” Brendon says around a mouth full of muffin. Mmm, blueberry.
“Right,” Zack says. “Leaving. Soundcheck in two hours.”
*
When Jon grabs Brendon by the elbow as he passes the bunks and yanks him down, Brendon is a little confused. But then also Jon is naked so he’s not going to say no, or anything. “Hey, hey, you’re naked,” he says, and bounces on his knees a little. He’s kind of excited.
“You should maybe be naked now too,” Jon says, reaching behind him to dig between the mattress and the wall. Brendon is not going to argue with this. He is also not going to argue about how he is suddenly pressed flush against Jon, Jon’s cock nudging at Brendon’s ass, because yes, hi, this please. More of this. Jon leans in close, and says, “Brendon? Ryan and Spencer are in the back lounge right now, watching a movie. That doesn’t mean you don’t need to be quiet, though.”
Which okay, Brendon can do that; he can be totally quiet, except for how Jon just started circling a wet finger around Brendon’s hole, pushing in slightly, and Brendon lets out a really loud moan without even thinking about it. “O-Oops?” he says, and then, hey, Jon’s hand is coming up, covering his mouth, and that’s pretty hot, he has to say. Brendon clutches onto Jon’s forearm, squeezes his eyes shut tight as Jon’s finger gets more insistent, and it burns a little, stings, but it also feels really good, Jon wrapped all around him and Jon inside of him. Once Jon gets his finger in a little, it slides in easier, and Brendon can feel it pushing and dragging inside of him.
“Okay?” Jon says, hot against his ear, and Brendon just nods against his hand, lets out a muffled sound of assent. Jon crooks his finger up a little, shifts it a bit and holy god, Brendon’s entire body jerks and he whimpers helplessly against Jon’s hand as sparks shoot up and down his spine. “Yeah,” Jon pants against his ear, “yeah, Bren,” and Brendon feels Jon’s cock hard and a little wet where it’s rubbing up against him, and oh he wants, and it’s not enough, just Jon’s finger.
“Mph,” he says against Jon’s hand, and that’s not getting the point across, he thinks. He bites down on the fleshy part of Jon’s palm, kind of hard, and Jon just hisses, so Brendon struggles against his palm until his mouth is free, whispers, “More, Jon, c’mon,” and then he whines low in his throat when Jon pulls his finger out altogether. “No, no, more, not less,” Brendon says, maybe a little desperately.
Jon just chuckles, and sets a kiss on Brendon’s temple. They’re both pretty sweaty - it’s hot in the bunk, pressed up like this, doing this - but Brendon just wants him closer. “Trust me,” Jon says, low and dark, “you’re going to want more lube.” And he slicks up two fingers this time, leans back down, presses in, and shit, shit. He hits right against that spot again and Brendon can’t even focus on the stretch, the burn of two fingers, because god, god, he wants Jon to never stop touching him.
He whimpers kind of pitifully against Jon’s hand, squirms back against Jon’s fingers, and when Jon twists them Brendon can feel it and he feels like he’s going to explode out of his skin. “Quiet, quiet,” Jon whispers in his ear, and then his hand is gone from his mouth and sliding down to wrap hot and wet around Brendon’s cock and that’s it; Brendon’s gone, spurting over Jon’s fist. He whimpers a little when Jon pulls his fingers out, and he feels a little empty, a lot hot, and when he looks over at Jon, Jon is fisting his own cock, staring at Brendon, and he holds the gaze while Jon comes, panting wetly into the dark of the bunk.
*
“Jon Walker, did you light a candle?” Brendon asks when he walks into the room. Jon looks down at the carpet, shuffles his feet a little, mumbles something about Spencer being a dick and slipping it into his bag. He’s kind of adorable. Brendon very much wants to have sex with him now.
“I very much want to have sex with you now,” Brendon says, and takes a running start, flopping down onto the mattress, “Take me now, you brute!”
“Brute? Seriously?” Jon asks, and Brendon just shrugs. He’d maybe been covertly reading another one of Ryan’s Harlequins about a rugged farm hand.
*
Jon’s cock? Turns out to be much bigger than his fingers, but also so much better, and Brendon squeezes his eyes closed, tries to focus on the little surge of pleasure that’s underneath the pain of the stretch. “Bren,” Jon says, and he palms Brendon’s cheek, makes him open his eyes. “I got you, okay? Breathe.”
So Brendon breathes, and the head of Jon’s cock slips inside, and oh, oh. Jon stills, grips down tightly on the back of Brendon’s thighs. “You okay?”
“Yeah, yeah, just . . . just a second, just a second,” and Jon nods, leans over to kiss Brendon’s knee, and shit, it’s just so sweet he wants to die a little. “C’mon,” he says, wiggling against Jon; he doesn’t care if it hurts; he wants it all, wants it now, wants Jon.
Then Jon’s moving, pressing in slow, so slow, and Brendon can feel himself opening up around Jon’s cock and it’s, shit, it’s just so much; he feels like there’s something trying to scratch its way out of his chest. That’s got to be it, there can’t be any more, he’s seen Jon’s cock and he does not remember it being four feet long, but Jon’s still pushing in, then finally he stills and Brendon’s so full. He shifts a little, trying to get used to it, and then Jon says, “Hey, look at me,” and when Brendon meets Jon’s eyes they’re dark, wide, searching his face. “Okay?”
Brendon just nods, reaches up and pulls Jon down to get at his mouth. Jon kisses him deep and wet, and when he shifts a little his cock hits something inside of Brendon and then he’s sobbing into Jon’s mouth, can’t even help himself. “Shit, Brendon, can I, please, I need to,” Jon’s gasping against his mouth, holding himself so still that Brendon can feel where his arms are shaking.
“Yeah, c’mon, c’mon,” Brendon says and there’s only a slight twinge when he lifts his legs up, wraps them around Jon’s waist, and then Jon’s moving, these shallow, short little thrusts that make Brendon’s breath stutter out. “Jon, more,” he says brokenly, and there’s this weird feeling as Jon pulls out a little, this drag that’s not entirely unpleasant, and when Jon thrusts back in he hits that spot again, and Brendon’s entire body feels like it’s about to fall apart.
Jon keeps his thrusts steady, so that every time he pushes in there’s this explosion of pleasure up Brendon’s spine. “Bren,” Jon says, strained, “You gotta, I can’t . . . so tight,” and then he’s wrapping his hand around Brendon’s cock, and he doesn’t even get a full stroke in before Brendon’s coming in hot stripes across his own belly. Jon pushes in, deep, and Brendon can feel Jon’s cock twitch inside of him as he comes, and shit, SHIT, that was awesome.
“Jon, Jon, that was awesome,” he says, and Jon grins down at him, leans down to kiss him softly.
“This is gonna feel a little weird, okay?” Jon warns as he slides slowly out, and it does, it really does. It feels like Jon’s pulling him inside out, but when he’s gone Brendon feels a little empty, and he makes grabby hands at Jon. Jon just smiles down at him, wide and blinding. He says, “I’ll be right back, condom, washcloth, unsexy things,” and Brendon cringes a little when he twists his body around to settle down into the bed.
He watches as Jon walks to the bathroom, and as soon as the door closes he lowers one hand, runs his finger lightly over his hole. His skin feels a little puffy, tender, but Brendon feels loose and happy, because he totally just had awesome sex with Jon Walker. Jon walks back out with a washcloth in one hand, wipes off Brendon’s belly, and oh, Brendon wants to keep him forever. “Jon,” Brendon says, and smiles when Jon tosses the cloth at the chair in the corner, crawls up Brendon’s body on the bed.
“Good?” Jon asks Brendon’s hair once he’s settled against Jon’s side. “So, so good,” Brendon says, and he twists around to kiss Jon, light and easy. “When do we get to do it again?” Jon laughs a little against his throat, pulls Brendon down to rest against him.
“As soon as I finish my internet post about your dick, Bren, I’ll be good to go.”
Brendon nods, snuggles down against Jon’s chest, and then, wait. “Joking, right.” Brendon says, “Joking, Jon, right?”