Catching Signals That Sound in the Dark, Jon/Brendon, NC-17
Title: Catching Signals That Sound in the Dark
Author: boweryd
Rating: NC-17
Pairing: Jon/Brendon
Word Count: 2,400+
Summary: "I really, really, really want to suck your cock," Brendon tells Jon's pants as he pops open the button and slides the zipper down. "Like. Really."
Disclaimer: I clearly don’t own any of these people and this clearly never happened.
Warnings: Graphically described face fucking, sex while intoxicated.
Author Notes: Written for the kink bingo prompt "rough sex." Thanks to untappedbeauty for once again patiently explaining to me that periods exist and can be used in place of commas sometimes. Thanks to fallintosilence for existing and being the kind of person who's all, "Fuck yeah that sounds like an awesome idea!" when I say, "There should be more grossly descriptive face fucking fic!" Title from "Two-Headed Boy" (that's right, I went there) by Neutral Milk Hotel.
Jon feels Brendon's eyes on him about a second before Brendon's pressed up warm against his side, breath hot against Jon's ear when he says, "Heeeeeey, do you have any idea how you look when you drink beer?"
Brendon is so, so drunk, and Jon's not entirely sure where he's going with this. "Nope?" he tries.
"Hot," Brendon says, nipping at the place where Jon's ear meets his jaw. "Hot is how you look. When you drink beer. With your lips around a bottle."
"Good to know," Jon says, tilting his head just a little so Brendon can mouth under his jaw. Ryan and Spencer are at the other end of the booth, hanging over the side to talk to Zack, but it's dark. It's dark and their backs are turned and Brendon's mouth feels really good.
"I'm thinking," Brendon mumbles against Jon's skin, "I'm thinking I really fucking need your cock in my mouth."
"Oh," Jon says. Which. Yeah. That sounds like a plan. He's still thinking about what a truly excellent plan it is when Brendon starts sliding down his side, angling his face toward Jon's lap.
"Brendon, how drunk are you?" Jon asks, grabbing Brendon by the shoulders and pulling him back up. "Ryan and Spencer are right there."
"They don't have to watch," Brendon breathes into his ear. "And I'm not that drunk." Brendon chooses to illustrate that point by running his hand down Jon's chest to settle in his lap, squeezing over Jon's cock through his jeans. It doesn't really make sense, but it also doesn't really matter, because Brendon's reaching for his zipper and then Jon' s catching him by the wrist, pulling him out of the booth.
"I was busy," Brendon says into his ear, leaning heavily against Jon's back, dogging his steps.
"Yep," Jon says, pushing through the crowd toward the bathroom.
"Oh," Brendon says as Jon pulls him through the door. "Hey!"
"Yep," Jon repeats, backing him into a stall. It's not his finest moment, but the bathroom is relatively empty and Brendon's already dropping to his knees, nuzzling into Jon's crotch and rubbing his nose along the line of Jon's cock through the denim.
"I really, really, really want to suck your cock," Brendon tells Jon's pants as he pops open the button and slides the zipper down. "Like. Really."
"I'm not objecting," Jon says, even though it's possible he should be.
Brendon is really drunk, is the thing, and when Brendon is drunk he talks about twice as much as he does when he's sober. He doesn't stop even when he sucks Jon in, still mumbling around Jon's cock as he's licking at him, trying to tell Jon how good it feels. Jon's caught between a laugh and a moan because the vibrations from Brendon's voice feel fucking amazing around his cock. Brendon keeps trying to talk, saying what sounds like "sotckngwoo" over and over, and then he's pulling back as Jon groans, his hips trying to follow Brendon's mouth.
Brendon's lips are shining wetly in the dingy light of the bathroom, and he looks up at Jon through his lashes, says, "So thick and good, I fucking love you in my mouth, Jon."
"That's nice," Jon says, petting at the hair behind Brendon's ears. "Maybe you should put me back there."
"Yeah," Brendon says, voice rough, still talking as he's leaning down to suck Jon back in. "Yeah I'll puchuackmouf," and Jon gasps, his hips bucking up helplessly when Brendon moans around his cock. Brendon pulls back again and Jon doesn't quite manage to bite back his groan, but Brendon is just looking up at him, eyes dark and wild. "Yeah?" Brendon asks. "You want to?"
Jon has no idea what they're talking about, so he keeps petting at Brendon's hair, says, "Wait. What?"
"You want to fuck my mouth," Brendon says, more like a statement than a question. His voice is already gruff and his lips are red and swollen as he grins. "Come on," he says, leaning in to lick absently at the head of Jon's cock. "I want you to, want you to hold my head and make me take it."
Jon's brain kind of shuts down. Brendon's a fan of the dirty talk, boy is he, but every now and then he'll really mean it, be so fucking sincere that it makes Jon's cock twitch and his chest draw up. Apparently this is one of those times. Jon squeezes his eyes shut and tries to talk himself out of it as Brendon kisses up and down his cock.
Brendon is drunk, and the last time they did this he sounded like shit at the next show. But Brendon is also on his knees, begging Jon to fuck his mouth. Actually, literally, currently, he is begging Jon to fuck his mouth, running said mouth over Jon's cock and saying, "Please, please, come on, Jon, please."
Jon is only so strong. He cups the back of Brendon's head with one hand and grabs hold of his cock with the other, says, "Yeah, yeah, okay. Okay, Bren," and guides himself into Brendon's mouth. Jon goes shallow at first. He doesn't actually want to push; he's always so scared to do this, even though Brendon loves it, even though it feels amazing.
But Brendon is moaning encouragement around his cock, and his hands are gripping at the backs of Jon's thighs, pulling him forward, so Jon lets himself go a little deeper. He feels the head of his cock hitting the back of Brendon's throat, but he doesn't push. He doesn't push until Brendon brings a hand up and pinches, hard, at the skin behind Jon's balls, making him buck forward, and then Brendon is choking around Jon's cock, his eyes are watering. Jon tries to pull back, but Brendon just pushes his head closer, swallows Jon down, and his throat feels fucking incredible, working and squeezing around the head of Jon's cock.
He's making these noises, wet and obscene and surprisingly loud over the thump of the bass that's vibrating up through the floor as Brendon is gagging and swallowing around Jon. Jon lets his head fall back against the stall door with a thump and closes his eyes for a second, just a second, but when he looks back down Brendon is already turning a little red and there are tears leaking from the corners of his eyes. He still tries to fight Jon when Jon draws back, but Brendon is drunk, and Jon is . . . well, he's less drunk, in any case, so he gets a good grip in Brendon's hair and forces Brendon's head back as he pulls out of Brendon's throat.
Brendon gasps out and coughs, a long, thick cord of spit falling from his bottom lip to drop to the floor between Brendon's spread knees. Jon can't stop staring, fascinated, and he brings his thumb up to rub at Brendon's lower lip, swollen and wet with spit. Jon brings his other hand up to wipe away the tears at the corners of Brendon's eyes, and Brendon coughs again, leaning into the touch. He goes to spit, but Jon stops him for no real discernible reason, and when he says, "Open," Brendon does. He opens up and looks up at Jon as Jon presses the tip of his cock to Brendon's mouth, drags it over and around Brendon's swollen lips before pushing inside where Brendon's mouth is full and wet.
Brendon closes his lips around Jon's cock as Jon pushes in, forcing the spit out in thick trails from the corner of Brendon's mouth. It drips down his chin and onto the floor, Brendon's pants, Jon's exposed toes in his flip flops. Jon stills and runs his thumbs around either side of his cock, pushes them into Brendon's mouth to feel how wet it is just because he knows that Brendon will let him. Jon's distracted with the feeling when Brendon flicks his tongue out and runs it over each of Jon's thumbs in turn before swirling it around the head of Jon's cock.
Jon groans loudly, obviously, and he doesn't even care if they're still alone in the bathroom because fuck, fuck, this should maybe not be as hot as it is but he's so fucking close. He starts moving again, slow, hesitant, letting Brendon set the pace, and Brendon moans around him, forcing himself lower on Jon's cock. Jon slides his thumbs out of Brendon's mouth with wet pops, brings his hands back up to Brendon's head, and Brendon pushes back into the touch and lets out a low, rumbling noise that does some seriously nice things for Jon's cock. Brendon mumbles something that mostly sounds like vowel noises, but Jon gets his drift. He starts up a hard rhythm, pushing in and out of Brendon's mouth, forcing his cock down Brendon's open throat every few thrusts, his eyes rolling back in his head a little when Brendon's throat works around the head of his cock.
Jon's close, and he tries to pull out, tries not to come down Brendon's throat, but Brendon grunts a little and follows Jon's hips, pushing against Jon's thighs to force him closer. Brendon digs his nails into Jon's skin to hold him there and Jon comes suddenly, straight down Brendon's throat, letting out a far too loud shout as Brendon swallows around him convulsively, making wet choking noises as he tries to swallow Jon's come.
Jon slides out as Brendon coughs, his cock wet and filthy and connected to Brendon's mouth by thick strings of spit. Brendon looks fucking wrecked, his mouth swollen and raw, his eyes watery and red, his shirt and pants stained dark with patches of spit. Jon hauls him to his feet, unthinking, just wanting him closer. He's maybe a a little too rough because Brendon stumbles, his legs locked up from lack of use, and falls heavily into Jon's chest.
Jon's cool with that though, just buries his hands in Brendon's hair again and tilts his head back to kiss him deep. Brendon's mouth is wet, sloppy, and there's spit sliding out between their mouths, Jon's chin getting wet with it, but he doesn't care. Not when Brendon is hard and rocking against his thigh, making frantic noises into Jon's mouth, biting down desperately on Jon's lower lip. Jon can barely fit a hand between them to get Brendon's pants open, and after he fights Brendon's zipper down, he raises his hand and pulls back from Brendon's body.
Brendon makes a protesting noise, high and desperate. Brendon's eyes are glassy, and when Jon says, "lick," it takes him a second to focus, to grab Jon's wrist and pull his hand closer, getting it wet easily. Brendon sucks Jon's fingers into his mouth, swirling his tongue around them before he spits into Jon's palm. Jon's cock shouldn't twitch at that, but Brendon's spit is thick from Jon fucking his mouth, and it clings to Jon's hand when he wraps it around Brendon's cock. Brendon immediately slumps back down against Jon's body, moans and jerks his hips up into Jon's hand, leaning his head down onto Jon's shoulder.
Brendon's panting wetly against Jon's collarbone, and Jon can feel how hot his breath is through his shirt. Brendon keeps pressing closer until Jon's hand is trapped immobile between their bodies and Brendon is just thrusting up, fucking Jon's hand, babbling against Jon's shoulder. His voice is low and gruff, fucked raw, and he's trembling a little as he strains up into Jon's hand. Brendon's mumbling out a steady stream of nonsense, desperate and shaking, and Jon's chest pulls tight as he brings his free hand up, smoothing it over Brendon's back, his arm, his shoulder, his hair, trying to calm him.
"I know, I know," Jon says into his ear, kissing the lobe. "I know, come on. Brendon, come on, come on." He can't move his hand because Brendon is pressed too closely and Jon won't move him, but he squeezes a bit around Brendon, trying to press his fingers in beneath the head of Brendon's cock. "Brendon, come on. It's okay, come on," Jon says, and he's a little frantic himself now because Brendon is shaking and Jon's pretty sure he's crying. Jon's shoulder is wet under Brendon's face, and it can't all be from his mouth.
Brendon bucks up into his hand one last time, and as Jon squeezes his hand around Brendon's cock, Brendon comes with a broken shout, his voice hoarse. He just keeps shaking, and Jon strokes up and down Brendon's back with unsteady hands, whispering nonsense into his hair as Brendon gradually calms down and goes loose and boneless against Jon. They stay there for a few minutes, Jon petting at Brendon's back, his hair, rubbing the bunched up muscles at his neck. Brendon kisses at Jon's shoulder before pulling away, laughing ruefully and coughing a little.
"See?" Brendon says, voice gruff. "No reason I couldn't have done that under the table."
Jon lets out a laugh, loud and harsh in the tiny stall, and he pulls Brendon back in against his chest to kiss him, his face, his swollen lips, the corners of his eyes where they're sticky with dried tears.
"Hey," Jon says, pulling back and cupping the back of Brendon's neck with his palm to keep him close. "Hey. I think we should call Zack, let him get us a cab back to the hotel, okay?"
Brendon nods shakily, and Jon sighs in relief because really, they kind of don't have a choice. They're both sort of filthy and Brendon looks thoroughly fucked over, his hair wild and face still red.
"Oh dude," Brendon says into Jon's shoulder, "He is going to be so pissed. Remember after Detroit when he made the rule about reckless and really gross public sex acts?"
"That wasn't really our fault, though," Jon says, tucking them both back into their pants before reaching for his phone. "And I still maintain that venue closets aren't really public places."
"I'm just saying," Brendon replies around a yawn, "I had to explain that one. It is totally your turn if he yells at us."
Jon's about to argue, but. Well. He did kind of just fuck Brendon's face in a club bathroom, so he figures he maybe owes him this one. "Fine," he says, dialing. "But you're getting me all the room service waffles I can eat in the morning."
Author: boweryd
Rating: NC-17
Pairing: Jon/Brendon
Word Count: 2,400+
Summary: "I really, really, really want to suck your cock," Brendon tells Jon's pants as he pops open the button and slides the zipper down. "Like. Really."
Disclaimer: I clearly don’t own any of these people and this clearly never happened.
Warnings: Graphically described face fucking, sex while intoxicated.
Author Notes: Written for the kink bingo prompt "rough sex." Thanks to untappedbeauty for once again patiently explaining to me that periods exist and can be used in place of commas sometimes. Thanks to fallintosilence for existing and being the kind of person who's all, "Fuck yeah that sounds like an awesome idea!" when I say, "There should be more grossly descriptive face fucking fic!" Title from "Two-Headed Boy" (that's right, I went there) by Neutral Milk Hotel.
Jon feels Brendon's eyes on him about a second before Brendon's pressed up warm against his side, breath hot against Jon's ear when he says, "Heeeeeey, do you have any idea how you look when you drink beer?"
Brendon is so, so drunk, and Jon's not entirely sure where he's going with this. "Nope?" he tries.
"Hot," Brendon says, nipping at the place where Jon's ear meets his jaw. "Hot is how you look. When you drink beer. With your lips around a bottle."
"Good to know," Jon says, tilting his head just a little so Brendon can mouth under his jaw. Ryan and Spencer are at the other end of the booth, hanging over the side to talk to Zack, but it's dark. It's dark and their backs are turned and Brendon's mouth feels really good.
"I'm thinking," Brendon mumbles against Jon's skin, "I'm thinking I really fucking need your cock in my mouth."
"Oh," Jon says. Which. Yeah. That sounds like a plan. He's still thinking about what a truly excellent plan it is when Brendon starts sliding down his side, angling his face toward Jon's lap.
"Brendon, how drunk are you?" Jon asks, grabbing Brendon by the shoulders and pulling him back up. "Ryan and Spencer are right there."
"They don't have to watch," Brendon breathes into his ear. "And I'm not that drunk." Brendon chooses to illustrate that point by running his hand down Jon's chest to settle in his lap, squeezing over Jon's cock through his jeans. It doesn't really make sense, but it also doesn't really matter, because Brendon's reaching for his zipper and then Jon' s catching him by the wrist, pulling him out of the booth.
"I was busy," Brendon says into his ear, leaning heavily against Jon's back, dogging his steps.
"Yep," Jon says, pushing through the crowd toward the bathroom.
"Oh," Brendon says as Jon pulls him through the door. "Hey!"
"Yep," Jon repeats, backing him into a stall. It's not his finest moment, but the bathroom is relatively empty and Brendon's already dropping to his knees, nuzzling into Jon's crotch and rubbing his nose along the line of Jon's cock through the denim.
"I really, really, really want to suck your cock," Brendon tells Jon's pants as he pops open the button and slides the zipper down. "Like. Really."
"I'm not objecting," Jon says, even though it's possible he should be.
Brendon is really drunk, is the thing, and when Brendon is drunk he talks about twice as much as he does when he's sober. He doesn't stop even when he sucks Jon in, still mumbling around Jon's cock as he's licking at him, trying to tell Jon how good it feels. Jon's caught between a laugh and a moan because the vibrations from Brendon's voice feel fucking amazing around his cock. Brendon keeps trying to talk, saying what sounds like "sotckngwoo" over and over, and then he's pulling back as Jon groans, his hips trying to follow Brendon's mouth.
Brendon's lips are shining wetly in the dingy light of the bathroom, and he looks up at Jon through his lashes, says, "So thick and good, I fucking love you in my mouth, Jon."
"That's nice," Jon says, petting at the hair behind Brendon's ears. "Maybe you should put me back there."
"Yeah," Brendon says, voice rough, still talking as he's leaning down to suck Jon back in. "Yeah I'll puchuackmouf," and Jon gasps, his hips bucking up helplessly when Brendon moans around his cock. Brendon pulls back again and Jon doesn't quite manage to bite back his groan, but Brendon is just looking up at him, eyes dark and wild. "Yeah?" Brendon asks. "You want to?"
Jon has no idea what they're talking about, so he keeps petting at Brendon's hair, says, "Wait. What?"
"You want to fuck my mouth," Brendon says, more like a statement than a question. His voice is already gruff and his lips are red and swollen as he grins. "Come on," he says, leaning in to lick absently at the head of Jon's cock. "I want you to, want you to hold my head and make me take it."
Jon's brain kind of shuts down. Brendon's a fan of the dirty talk, boy is he, but every now and then he'll really mean it, be so fucking sincere that it makes Jon's cock twitch and his chest draw up. Apparently this is one of those times. Jon squeezes his eyes shut and tries to talk himself out of it as Brendon kisses up and down his cock.
Brendon is drunk, and the last time they did this he sounded like shit at the next show. But Brendon is also on his knees, begging Jon to fuck his mouth. Actually, literally, currently, he is begging Jon to fuck his mouth, running said mouth over Jon's cock and saying, "Please, please, come on, Jon, please."
Jon is only so strong. He cups the back of Brendon's head with one hand and grabs hold of his cock with the other, says, "Yeah, yeah, okay. Okay, Bren," and guides himself into Brendon's mouth. Jon goes shallow at first. He doesn't actually want to push; he's always so scared to do this, even though Brendon loves it, even though it feels amazing.
But Brendon is moaning encouragement around his cock, and his hands are gripping at the backs of Jon's thighs, pulling him forward, so Jon lets himself go a little deeper. He feels the head of his cock hitting the back of Brendon's throat, but he doesn't push. He doesn't push until Brendon brings a hand up and pinches, hard, at the skin behind Jon's balls, making him buck forward, and then Brendon is choking around Jon's cock, his eyes are watering. Jon tries to pull back, but Brendon just pushes his head closer, swallows Jon down, and his throat feels fucking incredible, working and squeezing around the head of Jon's cock.
He's making these noises, wet and obscene and surprisingly loud over the thump of the bass that's vibrating up through the floor as Brendon is gagging and swallowing around Jon. Jon lets his head fall back against the stall door with a thump and closes his eyes for a second, just a second, but when he looks back down Brendon is already turning a little red and there are tears leaking from the corners of his eyes. He still tries to fight Jon when Jon draws back, but Brendon is drunk, and Jon is . . . well, he's less drunk, in any case, so he gets a good grip in Brendon's hair and forces Brendon's head back as he pulls out of Brendon's throat.
Brendon gasps out and coughs, a long, thick cord of spit falling from his bottom lip to drop to the floor between Brendon's spread knees. Jon can't stop staring, fascinated, and he brings his thumb up to rub at Brendon's lower lip, swollen and wet with spit. Jon brings his other hand up to wipe away the tears at the corners of Brendon's eyes, and Brendon coughs again, leaning into the touch. He goes to spit, but Jon stops him for no real discernible reason, and when he says, "Open," Brendon does. He opens up and looks up at Jon as Jon presses the tip of his cock to Brendon's mouth, drags it over and around Brendon's swollen lips before pushing inside where Brendon's mouth is full and wet.
Brendon closes his lips around Jon's cock as Jon pushes in, forcing the spit out in thick trails from the corner of Brendon's mouth. It drips down his chin and onto the floor, Brendon's pants, Jon's exposed toes in his flip flops. Jon stills and runs his thumbs around either side of his cock, pushes them into Brendon's mouth to feel how wet it is just because he knows that Brendon will let him. Jon's distracted with the feeling when Brendon flicks his tongue out and runs it over each of Jon's thumbs in turn before swirling it around the head of Jon's cock.
Jon groans loudly, obviously, and he doesn't even care if they're still alone in the bathroom because fuck, fuck, this should maybe not be as hot as it is but he's so fucking close. He starts moving again, slow, hesitant, letting Brendon set the pace, and Brendon moans around him, forcing himself lower on Jon's cock. Jon slides his thumbs out of Brendon's mouth with wet pops, brings his hands back up to Brendon's head, and Brendon pushes back into the touch and lets out a low, rumbling noise that does some seriously nice things for Jon's cock. Brendon mumbles something that mostly sounds like vowel noises, but Jon gets his drift. He starts up a hard rhythm, pushing in and out of Brendon's mouth, forcing his cock down Brendon's open throat every few thrusts, his eyes rolling back in his head a little when Brendon's throat works around the head of his cock.
Jon's close, and he tries to pull out, tries not to come down Brendon's throat, but Brendon grunts a little and follows Jon's hips, pushing against Jon's thighs to force him closer. Brendon digs his nails into Jon's skin to hold him there and Jon comes suddenly, straight down Brendon's throat, letting out a far too loud shout as Brendon swallows around him convulsively, making wet choking noises as he tries to swallow Jon's come.
Jon slides out as Brendon coughs, his cock wet and filthy and connected to Brendon's mouth by thick strings of spit. Brendon looks fucking wrecked, his mouth swollen and raw, his eyes watery and red, his shirt and pants stained dark with patches of spit. Jon hauls him to his feet, unthinking, just wanting him closer. He's maybe a a little too rough because Brendon stumbles, his legs locked up from lack of use, and falls heavily into Jon's chest.
Jon's cool with that though, just buries his hands in Brendon's hair again and tilts his head back to kiss him deep. Brendon's mouth is wet, sloppy, and there's spit sliding out between their mouths, Jon's chin getting wet with it, but he doesn't care. Not when Brendon is hard and rocking against his thigh, making frantic noises into Jon's mouth, biting down desperately on Jon's lower lip. Jon can barely fit a hand between them to get Brendon's pants open, and after he fights Brendon's zipper down, he raises his hand and pulls back from Brendon's body.
Brendon makes a protesting noise, high and desperate. Brendon's eyes are glassy, and when Jon says, "lick," it takes him a second to focus, to grab Jon's wrist and pull his hand closer, getting it wet easily. Brendon sucks Jon's fingers into his mouth, swirling his tongue around them before he spits into Jon's palm. Jon's cock shouldn't twitch at that, but Brendon's spit is thick from Jon fucking his mouth, and it clings to Jon's hand when he wraps it around Brendon's cock. Brendon immediately slumps back down against Jon's body, moans and jerks his hips up into Jon's hand, leaning his head down onto Jon's shoulder.
Brendon's panting wetly against Jon's collarbone, and Jon can feel how hot his breath is through his shirt. Brendon keeps pressing closer until Jon's hand is trapped immobile between their bodies and Brendon is just thrusting up, fucking Jon's hand, babbling against Jon's shoulder. His voice is low and gruff, fucked raw, and he's trembling a little as he strains up into Jon's hand. Brendon's mumbling out a steady stream of nonsense, desperate and shaking, and Jon's chest pulls tight as he brings his free hand up, smoothing it over Brendon's back, his arm, his shoulder, his hair, trying to calm him.
"I know, I know," Jon says into his ear, kissing the lobe. "I know, come on. Brendon, come on, come on." He can't move his hand because Brendon is pressed too closely and Jon won't move him, but he squeezes a bit around Brendon, trying to press his fingers in beneath the head of Brendon's cock. "Brendon, come on. It's okay, come on," Jon says, and he's a little frantic himself now because Brendon is shaking and Jon's pretty sure he's crying. Jon's shoulder is wet under Brendon's face, and it can't all be from his mouth.
Brendon bucks up into his hand one last time, and as Jon squeezes his hand around Brendon's cock, Brendon comes with a broken shout, his voice hoarse. He just keeps shaking, and Jon strokes up and down Brendon's back with unsteady hands, whispering nonsense into his hair as Brendon gradually calms down and goes loose and boneless against Jon. They stay there for a few minutes, Jon petting at Brendon's back, his hair, rubbing the bunched up muscles at his neck. Brendon kisses at Jon's shoulder before pulling away, laughing ruefully and coughing a little.
"See?" Brendon says, voice gruff. "No reason I couldn't have done that under the table."
Jon lets out a laugh, loud and harsh in the tiny stall, and he pulls Brendon back in against his chest to kiss him, his face, his swollen lips, the corners of his eyes where they're sticky with dried tears.
"Hey," Jon says, pulling back and cupping the back of Brendon's neck with his palm to keep him close. "Hey. I think we should call Zack, let him get us a cab back to the hotel, okay?"
Brendon nods shakily, and Jon sighs in relief because really, they kind of don't have a choice. They're both sort of filthy and Brendon looks thoroughly fucked over, his hair wild and face still red.
"Oh dude," Brendon says into Jon's shoulder, "He is going to be so pissed. Remember after Detroit when he made the rule about reckless and really gross public sex acts?"
"That wasn't really our fault, though," Jon says, tucking them both back into their pants before reaching for his phone. "And I still maintain that venue closets aren't really public places."
"I'm just saying," Brendon replies around a yawn, "I had to explain that one. It is totally your turn if he yells at us."
Jon's about to argue, but. Well. He did kind of just fuck Brendon's face in a club bathroom, so he figures he maybe owes him this one. "Fine," he says, dialing. "But you're getting me all the room service waffles I can eat in the morning."