(no subject)
Title: Inhibitions
Fandom: Panic At The Disco, My Chemical Romance
Rating: NC-17
Pairing: Bob/Spencer
Summary: PWP, basically. Spencer riding Bob, as you do. For _princess_han_ and onneonlights, because apparently this is what their conversations lead to.
---
Bob wakes up to the sound of drumming. It takes him a few seconds to differentiate between the drumming that is always in his head and the noise he can hear, but when he realises that it is genuine drumming, he gets out of bed to investigate.
He doesn’t expect to find Spencer Smith in his guest room, banging the fuck out of Bob’s drum kit.
“What’re you doing here, Smith?” He mumbles, voice thick from sleep.
“Patrick called. Pete and Ryan are having an argument and he’s doing an intervention in our hotel room, or something. He said that I was welcome to stay here.”
“Oh,” Bob thinks that that’s kinda ridiculous, but really, it’s Pete and Ryan, and they’re always ridiculous. Then he moves onto the more important question burning through his mind. “Uh, Smith? Why are you playing my drums naked?”
Spencer smirks at him. “I like playing naked. Helps with inhibitions and stuff.”
“Um, okay. But dude, you’re in my house.”
“I know,” Spencer says, his smirk becoming more and more smug by the second. “I might’ve planned it this way.”
“Oh?” Bob asks, quirking an eyebrow.
“Yeah,” Spencer replies and fuck, Bob thinks, Spencer’s practically panting now. “I thought it’d be good to have you walk in on me like this.”
Bob starts walking towards the kit, “And how would you describe ‘like this’, exactly?”
“Um, well,” Spencer’s faltering now, because Bob is walking towards him, and Spencer can almost see him thinking ‘mine mine mine’. That’s gotten to Spencer since day one of their…thing, and he’s damned if it’s going to stop any time soon. He tries again.
“Naked; sweaty; turned on; really fucking hard, in fact; ready for you.”
“Ready for me?” Bob repeats.
“Very fucking ready,” Spencer growls. Then, as an afterthought, he adds, “I brought the lube with me, I thought it’d help speed things up.”
“Fuck,” Bob says, and now he’s panting, and that’s probably a good thing in the long run, but not if he wants to keep control of the situation. “So you’re prepared?” He asks.
Spencer nods.
“Completely? I mean, you don’t want my fingers inside of you at all?”
Spencer swallows, and Bob can see him try hard to catch his breath. “I always need your fingers inside me, Bob.”
Bob fights the urge to smirk at the way Spencer uses ‘need’ instead of ‘want’, and instead pulls Spencer from his drumming stool and sits down, pulling Spencer in between his thighs. Bob thinks about how Spencer’s bare ass has made the stool warm, but then Spencer grabs his hair and pulls himself down to kiss him, and that wipes all thoughts from Bob’s mind.
Spencer’s lips part, and then they’re using their tongues as weapons in the fight for control. Bob wins, eventually, licking the roof of Spencer’s mouth and using his moan as an opportunity to slide a finger inside of him. Spencer is still standing up, but his knees buckle slightly and he leans forward onto Bob. Bob knows he can hold him though, so he does.
He might have prepared himself, but Spencer’s still tight. There’s plenty of lube there, but Bob knows from experience that there’s only so much you can do yourself. He slides a second finger inside him, and Spencer arches into it, trying to force Bob’s fingers deeper. They still haven’t broken the kiss, and Bob needs air, so he pushes in a third finger and Spencer pulls away to moan; head thrown back, neck completely exposed. Bob wants to bite at the small pulse he can see racing under Spencer’s skin, so he does.
His teeth sink in, and he stops himself before he draws blood, but Spencer is moaning “more, more please” above him, and Bob doesn’t know what he wants more of, so he scissors his fingers and bites until he feels liquid on his tongue. Spencer stops bleeding the second Bob pulls away, so he laps and the wound until it opens again, feeling Spencer shaking as he does it.
“Fuck, Bob. Please.”
“Please what?” Bob asks, amazed that his voice doesn’t crack when he speaks.
“Please, please fuck me.”
“That’s what you want, huh?” It’s what Bob wants too, but he’s enjoying being in control, and he isn’t going to give it up easily. Spencer whimpers above him, and Bob takes that as a yes, so he continues. “Want me to fuck you over the drums? We’re the only ones here, you can make as much noise as you want, and you know I don’t mind.”
Bob looks up at Spencer for his reaction and is surprised when Spencer manages to croak “No,” his voice catching when Bob’s fingers slide over his prostate. “I…fuck, Bob. I want to ride you.”
“Christ,” Bob mutters. He didn’t think he could get any harder than he already is, but those last five words made him manage it. He pulls his fingers out of Spencer and gets rid of his shorts as quickly as possible, gasping when cold air brushes against his cock.
“Now?” Spencer asks.
“Now.”
Between the generous amount of lube he used on himself, and how stretched he is from taking three of Bob’s fingers, Spencer slides down pretty easily. He has to stop once, but that’s because Bob’s hands tighten on his hips the second he’s inside him.
Spencer waits until he’s resting on Bob’s thighs, then starts to grind. His arms are around Bob’s neck, but he finds that he can’t get leverage like this, so he leans back, bracing himself on the first drum he finds; the bass, if the sound of his palms hitting it is enough to go by. The angle has changed, and suddenly Bob is in deeper, filling him up more than he’s ever experienced before. Spencer moves his hips slightly and oh, that’s the spot.
“Fuck,” He breathes. “Fuck me Bob, please. Fuck me.”
Bob does. He grips Spencer’s hips even tighter and pulls him up, pushing him back down hard the second he can. Bob’s moaning now as he pounds into Spencer, and he knows he isn’t going to last long. He lets go of one hip and grabs Spencer’s cock, pumping it in as close to a rhythm as he can get.
Spencer takes the change in pace well, and has to bite his lip to stop a scream from leaving his throat. He uses his arms to push himself down onto Bob, and they almost buckle when Bob’s cock hits his prostate, and stays there, hitting the same spot every time their bodies meet.
“Spence, ‘m gonna…”
“Do it, fuck. I’ve been waiting for you,” Spencer says, half-whimper half-growl. He lets Bob thrust as erratically as he needs, using Spencer’s body how he wants to, and Spencer feels Bob’s thighs tremble underneath him, and then Bob’s coming inside him. Spencer can feel it all, hot liquid coating his insides, and it’s enough to make him lose control, coming over Bob’s hand and his own stomach.
Spencer collapses onto Bob as soon as he can move, and whimpers, “Fuck,” as soon as he can speak.
“Fuck’d be the right word for it,” Bob says, a rumbling laugh spreading through him. He’s still inside Spencer, and Spencer feels the vibration run through him.
“Bed?” Spencer asks, his face buried in Bob’s neck.
“Bed.”
Fandom: Panic At The Disco, My Chemical Romance
Rating: NC-17
Pairing: Bob/Spencer
Summary: PWP, basically. Spencer riding Bob, as you do. For _princess_han_ and onneonlights, because apparently this is what their conversations lead to.
---
Bob wakes up to the sound of drumming. It takes him a few seconds to differentiate between the drumming that is always in his head and the noise he can hear, but when he realises that it is genuine drumming, he gets out of bed to investigate.
He doesn’t expect to find Spencer Smith in his guest room, banging the fuck out of Bob’s drum kit.
“What’re you doing here, Smith?” He mumbles, voice thick from sleep.
“Patrick called. Pete and Ryan are having an argument and he’s doing an intervention in our hotel room, or something. He said that I was welcome to stay here.”
“Oh,” Bob thinks that that’s kinda ridiculous, but really, it’s Pete and Ryan, and they’re always ridiculous. Then he moves onto the more important question burning through his mind. “Uh, Smith? Why are you playing my drums naked?”
Spencer smirks at him. “I like playing naked. Helps with inhibitions and stuff.”
“Um, okay. But dude, you’re in my house.”
“I know,” Spencer says, his smirk becoming more and more smug by the second. “I might’ve planned it this way.”
“Oh?” Bob asks, quirking an eyebrow.
“Yeah,” Spencer replies and fuck, Bob thinks, Spencer’s practically panting now. “I thought it’d be good to have you walk in on me like this.”
Bob starts walking towards the kit, “And how would you describe ‘like this’, exactly?”
“Um, well,” Spencer’s faltering now, because Bob is walking towards him, and Spencer can almost see him thinking ‘mine mine mine’. That’s gotten to Spencer since day one of their…thing, and he’s damned if it’s going to stop any time soon. He tries again.
“Naked; sweaty; turned on; really fucking hard, in fact; ready for you.”
“Ready for me?” Bob repeats.
“Very fucking ready,” Spencer growls. Then, as an afterthought, he adds, “I brought the lube with me, I thought it’d help speed things up.”
“Fuck,” Bob says, and now he’s panting, and that’s probably a good thing in the long run, but not if he wants to keep control of the situation. “So you’re prepared?” He asks.
Spencer nods.
“Completely? I mean, you don’t want my fingers inside of you at all?”
Spencer swallows, and Bob can see him try hard to catch his breath. “I always need your fingers inside me, Bob.”
Bob fights the urge to smirk at the way Spencer uses ‘need’ instead of ‘want’, and instead pulls Spencer from his drumming stool and sits down, pulling Spencer in between his thighs. Bob thinks about how Spencer’s bare ass has made the stool warm, but then Spencer grabs his hair and pulls himself down to kiss him, and that wipes all thoughts from Bob’s mind.
Spencer’s lips part, and then they’re using their tongues as weapons in the fight for control. Bob wins, eventually, licking the roof of Spencer’s mouth and using his moan as an opportunity to slide a finger inside of him. Spencer is still standing up, but his knees buckle slightly and he leans forward onto Bob. Bob knows he can hold him though, so he does.
He might have prepared himself, but Spencer’s still tight. There’s plenty of lube there, but Bob knows from experience that there’s only so much you can do yourself. He slides a second finger inside him, and Spencer arches into it, trying to force Bob’s fingers deeper. They still haven’t broken the kiss, and Bob needs air, so he pushes in a third finger and Spencer pulls away to moan; head thrown back, neck completely exposed. Bob wants to bite at the small pulse he can see racing under Spencer’s skin, so he does.
His teeth sink in, and he stops himself before he draws blood, but Spencer is moaning “more, more please” above him, and Bob doesn’t know what he wants more of, so he scissors his fingers and bites until he feels liquid on his tongue. Spencer stops bleeding the second Bob pulls away, so he laps and the wound until it opens again, feeling Spencer shaking as he does it.
“Fuck, Bob. Please.”
“Please what?” Bob asks, amazed that his voice doesn’t crack when he speaks.
“Please, please fuck me.”
“That’s what you want, huh?” It’s what Bob wants too, but he’s enjoying being in control, and he isn’t going to give it up easily. Spencer whimpers above him, and Bob takes that as a yes, so he continues. “Want me to fuck you over the drums? We’re the only ones here, you can make as much noise as you want, and you know I don’t mind.”
Bob looks up at Spencer for his reaction and is surprised when Spencer manages to croak “No,” his voice catching when Bob’s fingers slide over his prostate. “I…fuck, Bob. I want to ride you.”
“Christ,” Bob mutters. He didn’t think he could get any harder than he already is, but those last five words made him manage it. He pulls his fingers out of Spencer and gets rid of his shorts as quickly as possible, gasping when cold air brushes against his cock.
“Now?” Spencer asks.
“Now.”
Between the generous amount of lube he used on himself, and how stretched he is from taking three of Bob’s fingers, Spencer slides down pretty easily. He has to stop once, but that’s because Bob’s hands tighten on his hips the second he’s inside him.
Spencer waits until he’s resting on Bob’s thighs, then starts to grind. His arms are around Bob’s neck, but he finds that he can’t get leverage like this, so he leans back, bracing himself on the first drum he finds; the bass, if the sound of his palms hitting it is enough to go by. The angle has changed, and suddenly Bob is in deeper, filling him up more than he’s ever experienced before. Spencer moves his hips slightly and oh, that’s the spot.
“Fuck,” He breathes. “Fuck me Bob, please. Fuck me.”
Bob does. He grips Spencer’s hips even tighter and pulls him up, pushing him back down hard the second he can. Bob’s moaning now as he pounds into Spencer, and he knows he isn’t going to last long. He lets go of one hip and grabs Spencer’s cock, pumping it in as close to a rhythm as he can get.
Spencer takes the change in pace well, and has to bite his lip to stop a scream from leaving his throat. He uses his arms to push himself down onto Bob, and they almost buckle when Bob’s cock hits his prostate, and stays there, hitting the same spot every time their bodies meet.
“Spence, ‘m gonna…”
“Do it, fuck. I’ve been waiting for you,” Spencer says, half-whimper half-growl. He lets Bob thrust as erratically as he needs, using Spencer’s body how he wants to, and Spencer feels Bob’s thighs tremble underneath him, and then Bob’s coming inside him. Spencer can feel it all, hot liquid coating his insides, and it’s enough to make him lose control, coming over Bob’s hand and his own stomach.
Spencer collapses onto Bob as soon as he can move, and whimpers, “Fuck,” as soon as he can speak.
“Fuck’d be the right word for it,” Bob says, a rumbling laugh spreading through him. He’s still inside Spencer, and Spencer feels the vibration run through him.
“Bed?” Spencer asks, his face buried in Bob’s neck.
“Bed.”