Take Me By The Hand (Mpreg/M-Preg) [Brendon Urie/Pete Wentz] {5/59}
Title: Take Me By The Hand (5/59)
Author: comingofthelord
Rating(s): Overall R-NC-17 for language and themes.
Pairing(s): Issac "Ike" Hanson/Brendon Urie and (eventual) Brendon/Pete Wentz
P.O.V.: 1st-Person, Brendon's.
Genre(s): Drama/Alternate (Alternative) Universe [AU/A.U.].
Warnings: Hermaphroditism/Inter-sex/Bi-gender, Underage, Alcohol Use, Swearing, (Sex)ual Content, Mpreg/M-preg.
Summary: Screw the cute, fluffy crap and let's get straight to the point; pregnancy sucks. And it's only worse when you're a male. Brendon finds himself at the party of the year with the guy of his dreams. After only one night, Brendon finds himself falling hard for Isaac Hanson, and it seems like Ike feels the same way... until Brendon's friends jokingly convince him to take a pregnancy test... that turns out positive, of course. Brendon can't be pregnant though... he's a boy! Suddenly, Brendon's life is turned upside-down, becoming the center of attention when everyone wants to know the same thing; how does a teenage boy become pregnant? Governmental testing, news vans parked on his lawn, an apathetic boyfriend, and morning sickness seem to all become overwhelming and Brendon only has one person he can turn to; his best friend, Ryan Ross. But what happens when Ryan's older adoptive brother, Pete Wentz, comes into the picture? Can he help save Brendon, and in more ways than one?
Disclaimer: Total fiction; I don't own ANY of the characters herein, nor have I ever met them (in real life) or know them personally.
Beta: Me, myself and I, comingofthelord
Author('s) Note(s): Unlike the last story, this one has shorter chapters, but more installments. But other than that, don't like? Don't read, simple, if the themes contained herein are offensive to you. That said, I hope you -- to whom it may concern -- enjoy (it)!
Character List/Picspam:
Master Post:
*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*
Ike leads me up a narrow staircase, pushing past a few people who have taken up refuge on the steps. When we reach the second floor, the music immediately seems to quiet and the clusters of people seem to thin out, only a few lost stragglers wandering in a wasted haze down the hall. But he doesn't stop there. He pulls me down the long hallway, past a few closed wooden doors to one that hangs open at the far end of the corridor. When the door shuts behind us, enclosing just me and Ike in the dark room, the music almost disappears completely. I can still feel the beat of it in my body as the bass shakes the house around us, but the sound seems like nothing but muffled noise.
I wander farther into the room, only dimly lit by the illumination of the outside street light that seeps in through the windows. It's a bedroom, rather empty but elegant at the same time. There's a single queen sized bed in the center of the room, draped with beige-colored sheets and comforter, and one wooden dresser pushed against the wall to the left. I assume it to be some sort of guest room by the empty ambiance it takes on.
Ike shuts the door and turns to face me as I take a seat on the end of the bed. "That's better," he smiles. His voice sounds quieter to my ears and I can't tell if it's because he's not yelling anymore or if it's due to the lack of music. Either way, I feel relieved that it's finally just the two of us.
I swing my legs absently, not reaching the floor, and watch the ground nervously. I see the toes of Ike's Converse shoes as he steps closer to me and I look up at him. This doesn't feel real, the way my pulse beats in my ears, my palms slick from sweat, and the lump in my throat that makes my entire mouth feel dry. "I'm really glad you came tonight." Ike's voice has dropped lower, taking on a husky tone that kind of turns me on.
I swallow hard. "Yeah. I almost didn't," I laugh lightly. "I was kind of shocked when you asked me."
He tilts his head to one side, a smirk playing at the corners of his mouth. "Why's that?"
I shrug limply, like it doesn't really matter. "I heard you were coming with Stevie."
His eyes widen a little, surprised. "Oh," Is all he says for a moment. He comes closer, stopping only a few inches in front of me. I feel even shorter, not just because I'm sitting, but because the bed is so far off the ground; I would be about the same height I would be if standing. Ike doesn't say anything for a long minute; he just watches me. It feels almost awkward after a moment, like he's mentally undressing me with his eyes, though they never leave my face. Eventually, he shakes his head. "She asked me (to come)," he admits. "But I didn't want to be with her tonight." I feel one finger slip under my chin, tilting my head up to look at him. "I want to be with you."
Holy. Fuck.
I mentally slap myself, needing the encouragement to say something, anything so that I don't seem like a complete dumb-ass, but my mind goes blank. My head is spinning with his words and the close proximity as he leans even closer. His face is barely an inch from mine, his eyes searching my own, before glancing down at my lips. "I want to shove my tongue so far down your throat."
I feel my lips spread into a cheeky grin and swallow hard. I don't know where the cockiness comes from all of a sudden, but I tilt my head to one side. "Then what are you waiting for?"
And then the moment I have been waiting all of my life, or what feels like all of my life for, comes. Ike leans into me, closing the scant distance between us. His mouth collides with my own in one short, chaste kiss. It lasts only a few seconds before Ike pulls back, a libidinous glow in his eyes, and chastity seems like the last thing on his mind.
Within a second, he's pushing me back onto the mattress, climbing on top of me, our lips meeting once again. This kiss, unlike the first, is hungry and full of passion. It feels messy and clumsy as his tongue probes my lower lip, begging for entrance, which I happily grant. The cool chill of his lip piercings contrasts with the heated contact of our skin, sending goosebumps across my skin. It only intensifies when I feel his hands slip beneath my -- well, technically Ryan's -- shirt. He's anxious, it seems, as am I, but he seems to be more hurried than I am. I want to focus on the feel of his lips as they meet mine. I want to remember the taste of him, the way even his simplest movements make my skin tingle. But by the time I can actually comprehend what is happening, my shirt is already being tugged off and thrown to the floor.
I trail my own hands up his body, beginning at his hips and sliding up his shirt. I feel the muscle under my fingertips, constricting and releasing as he presses himself down into me. I allow my nails to dig into his back when he grinds his hips into mine, eliciting a soft gasp as well.
I'm almost in awe of how in-control he seems to be. My movements feel shaky and clumsy and inexperienced while his own are sure and deliberate and confident. I honestly have no idea what I'm doing and I can imagine Ike doing this a million times. Okay, so maybe that's a bit of an exaggeration, but the principle is still there; I'm an amateur and Ike is a pro.
And then I realize something: What if I'm not good enough? What if he compares me to all of the other people that he's been with and I suck at sex? What if...
Ike leans back, straddling my waist still, but his kisses disappear. He's breathing heavily. "What's wrong?" he asks.
I bite my lip, watching him closely. Swallowing hard, I avert my gaze, trying to look anywhere but at him. "I'm scared," I admit.
Ike lifts a hand from where it rests on the mattress near my head, brushing a stray lock of hair out of my face, tucking it safely behind my ear. He waits until I finally shift my gaze back to him before he speaks. "We don't have to do this, Bren." There's a reassuring smile on his face, but something deeper, a glimmer that seems to shine in his eyes, that tells me that he really, really wants this to happen. And I do, too. Regardless of how bad I am, I know that it has to happen sooner or later. And what better way to lose my virginity than to Isaac Hanson at a house party?
I shake my head and my fingers slide across his abdomen. "I want to."
Ike smiles down at me and lowers his lips back to mine. His movements are slower now, and somewhat softer as he trails his hand downward from my hair. My skin seems to burn where his fingers touch, leaving a trail of flaming flesh from my ears to my chest. He stops on my nipple, massaging it slowly with his thumb while his lips slide easily away from my own. His kisses move to my neck and I angle my head upwards to allow him a better angle. I tug up on his shirt, wanting it gone, and I feel him grin. He sits up, letting me pull the fabric up and over his head, tossing it to the floor. When he comes back down, his lips connect with my clavicle sending chills down my spine. He bites down, his teeth grazing the angular bone and making me gasp. My hips involuntarily buck up into him and he chuckles, making me feel self-conscious suddenly. Am I doing something wrong?
Ike seems to know exactly what I'm thinking and his tongue slips across my shoulder. "You're doing great, baby."
The pet name makes my stomach flutter, butterflies ripping at the insides of me and driving me on. Zacky's lips trail down my chest, his tongue swirling around my nipple and going lower. My breath hitches when he starts unzipping my pants with his teeth. I watch him, my eyes wide and focused on his swift movements. It almost feels like this is not even happening, like this is some extravagant wet dream and I'm going to wake up any second, forced back into reality, alone in my bed with a raging boner. It's like an outer-body experience, as if I'm watching this happen to someone else.
But I don't wake up, because it is real; in fact it's so real that it is surreal. Ike doesn't disappear, his movements don't cease. Instead, I continue watching him, completely perplexed by the fact that this is actually happening, and in one small fraction of a second, the remainder of my clothes are gone. I'm completely exposed in front of Ike, like I had (in a way) daydreamed about so many times before, but in this moment I want nothing more than to cover myself up and cringe away from his steady gaze.
I feel insecure and scared and horny and I want to close my eyes and hope I become invisible before he can come to his senses and laugh in my face. His eyes wander over my body, making me feel nervous. I never honestly thought this moment would come, being completely susceptible to rejection and weakness, showing literally all of myself in this way. But in this second, I feel like I've laid out every secret I've ever had, disclosed every thought and dream and fear that I've experienced, making myself completely and utterly bare. I feel terrified that Ike is seeing all of me in this way and I want nothing more than to hide myself from his scrutiny.
But Ike doesn't seem to notice my introspection. He's focused on nothing more than my bare body, the physical attraction between us that is undeniably there. When he lowers his hand to stroke his cool fingers against my exposed erection, all of my thoughts disappear. Everything except the sensation his touch causes fades away and I suck in my bottom lip.
I find myself closing my eyes, bucking my hips upward, needing more than this simple contact. I need him inside of me. "Just... fuck me... Ike," I gasp in between panting breaths.
Ike's touch disappears and I force my eyes open, wanting to see where he is. When my eyes land on him, I swallow hard. He's standing up at the end of the bed, grinning at me with a mouthful of braces as he tugs his own jeans off.
Okay, I must be dreaming. That's the only way it seems possible that Ike fucking Hanson is standing in front of me, completely naked, about to enter me. It seems like too much, too soon, but I can't control it. I want him -- need him -- and, though I'm not exactly sure I'm absolutely ready for this, I feel the need to please him. I want to make him feel the way he makes me feel. I want him to know about the butterflies in my stomach, the sweat that convenes on my palms, the way my brain seems to be wiped completely clean when he just walks by. I want to do this, for him and for me.
Ike smiles at me reassuringly. "You ready for this, baby?"
I swallow every word that seems to form in my throat, all of them catching and not seeming to find a way out. My hands find his hips once again, with the way his body rubbing against mine leaving me speechless. This is what I want. I'm ready. But the words won't come out and I settle with a simple nod, letting Ike and my own carnal instinct(s) take over and do the rest.
Author: comingofthelord
Rating(s): Overall R-NC-17 for language and themes.
Pairing(s): Issac "Ike" Hanson/Brendon Urie and (eventual) Brendon/Pete Wentz
P.O.V.: 1st-Person, Brendon's.
Genre(s): Drama/Alternate (Alternative) Universe [AU/A.U.].
Warnings: Hermaphroditism/Inter-sex/Bi-gender, Underage, Alcohol Use, Swearing, (Sex)ual Content, Mpreg/M-preg.
Summary: Screw the cute, fluffy crap and let's get straight to the point; pregnancy sucks. And it's only worse when you're a male. Brendon finds himself at the party of the year with the guy of his dreams. After only one night, Brendon finds himself falling hard for Isaac Hanson, and it seems like Ike feels the same way... until Brendon's friends jokingly convince him to take a pregnancy test... that turns out positive, of course. Brendon can't be pregnant though... he's a boy! Suddenly, Brendon's life is turned upside-down, becoming the center of attention when everyone wants to know the same thing; how does a teenage boy become pregnant? Governmental testing, news vans parked on his lawn, an apathetic boyfriend, and morning sickness seem to all become overwhelming and Brendon only has one person he can turn to; his best friend, Ryan Ross. But what happens when Ryan's older adoptive brother, Pete Wentz, comes into the picture? Can he help save Brendon, and in more ways than one?
Disclaimer: Total fiction; I don't own ANY of the characters herein, nor have I ever met them (in real life) or know them personally.
Beta: Me, myself and I, comingofthelord
Author('s) Note(s): Unlike the last story, this one has shorter chapters, but more installments. But other than that, don't like? Don't read, simple, if the themes contained herein are offensive to you. That said, I hope you -- to whom it may concern -- enjoy (it)!
Character List/Picspam:
Master Post:
*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*
Ike leads me up a narrow staircase, pushing past a few people who have taken up refuge on the steps. When we reach the second floor, the music immediately seems to quiet and the clusters of people seem to thin out, only a few lost stragglers wandering in a wasted haze down the hall. But he doesn't stop there. He pulls me down the long hallway, past a few closed wooden doors to one that hangs open at the far end of the corridor. When the door shuts behind us, enclosing just me and Ike in the dark room, the music almost disappears completely. I can still feel the beat of it in my body as the bass shakes the house around us, but the sound seems like nothing but muffled noise.
I wander farther into the room, only dimly lit by the illumination of the outside street light that seeps in through the windows. It's a bedroom, rather empty but elegant at the same time. There's a single queen sized bed in the center of the room, draped with beige-colored sheets and comforter, and one wooden dresser pushed against the wall to the left. I assume it to be some sort of guest room by the empty ambiance it takes on.
Ike shuts the door and turns to face me as I take a seat on the end of the bed. "That's better," he smiles. His voice sounds quieter to my ears and I can't tell if it's because he's not yelling anymore or if it's due to the lack of music. Either way, I feel relieved that it's finally just the two of us.
I swing my legs absently, not reaching the floor, and watch the ground nervously. I see the toes of Ike's Converse shoes as he steps closer to me and I look up at him. This doesn't feel real, the way my pulse beats in my ears, my palms slick from sweat, and the lump in my throat that makes my entire mouth feel dry. "I'm really glad you came tonight." Ike's voice has dropped lower, taking on a husky tone that kind of turns me on.
I swallow hard. "Yeah. I almost didn't," I laugh lightly. "I was kind of shocked when you asked me."
He tilts his head to one side, a smirk playing at the corners of his mouth. "Why's that?"
I shrug limply, like it doesn't really matter. "I heard you were coming with Stevie."
His eyes widen a little, surprised. "Oh," Is all he says for a moment. He comes closer, stopping only a few inches in front of me. I feel even shorter, not just because I'm sitting, but because the bed is so far off the ground; I would be about the same height I would be if standing. Ike doesn't say anything for a long minute; he just watches me. It feels almost awkward after a moment, like he's mentally undressing me with his eyes, though they never leave my face. Eventually, he shakes his head. "She asked me (to come)," he admits. "But I didn't want to be with her tonight." I feel one finger slip under my chin, tilting my head up to look at him. "I want to be with you."
Holy. Fuck.
I mentally slap myself, needing the encouragement to say something, anything so that I don't seem like a complete dumb-ass, but my mind goes blank. My head is spinning with his words and the close proximity as he leans even closer. His face is barely an inch from mine, his eyes searching my own, before glancing down at my lips. "I want to shove my tongue so far down your throat."
I feel my lips spread into a cheeky grin and swallow hard. I don't know where the cockiness comes from all of a sudden, but I tilt my head to one side. "Then what are you waiting for?"
And then the moment I have been waiting all of my life, or what feels like all of my life for, comes. Ike leans into me, closing the scant distance between us. His mouth collides with my own in one short, chaste kiss. It lasts only a few seconds before Ike pulls back, a libidinous glow in his eyes, and chastity seems like the last thing on his mind.
Within a second, he's pushing me back onto the mattress, climbing on top of me, our lips meeting once again. This kiss, unlike the first, is hungry and full of passion. It feels messy and clumsy as his tongue probes my lower lip, begging for entrance, which I happily grant. The cool chill of his lip piercings contrasts with the heated contact of our skin, sending goosebumps across my skin. It only intensifies when I feel his hands slip beneath my -- well, technically Ryan's -- shirt. He's anxious, it seems, as am I, but he seems to be more hurried than I am. I want to focus on the feel of his lips as they meet mine. I want to remember the taste of him, the way even his simplest movements make my skin tingle. But by the time I can actually comprehend what is happening, my shirt is already being tugged off and thrown to the floor.
I trail my own hands up his body, beginning at his hips and sliding up his shirt. I feel the muscle under my fingertips, constricting and releasing as he presses himself down into me. I allow my nails to dig into his back when he grinds his hips into mine, eliciting a soft gasp as well.
I'm almost in awe of how in-control he seems to be. My movements feel shaky and clumsy and inexperienced while his own are sure and deliberate and confident. I honestly have no idea what I'm doing and I can imagine Ike doing this a million times. Okay, so maybe that's a bit of an exaggeration, but the principle is still there; I'm an amateur and Ike is a pro.
And then I realize something: What if I'm not good enough? What if he compares me to all of the other people that he's been with and I suck at sex? What if...
Ike leans back, straddling my waist still, but his kisses disappear. He's breathing heavily. "What's wrong?" he asks.
I bite my lip, watching him closely. Swallowing hard, I avert my gaze, trying to look anywhere but at him. "I'm scared," I admit.
Ike lifts a hand from where it rests on the mattress near my head, brushing a stray lock of hair out of my face, tucking it safely behind my ear. He waits until I finally shift my gaze back to him before he speaks. "We don't have to do this, Bren." There's a reassuring smile on his face, but something deeper, a glimmer that seems to shine in his eyes, that tells me that he really, really wants this to happen. And I do, too. Regardless of how bad I am, I know that it has to happen sooner or later. And what better way to lose my virginity than to Isaac Hanson at a house party?
I shake my head and my fingers slide across his abdomen. "I want to."
Ike smiles down at me and lowers his lips back to mine. His movements are slower now, and somewhat softer as he trails his hand downward from my hair. My skin seems to burn where his fingers touch, leaving a trail of flaming flesh from my ears to my chest. He stops on my nipple, massaging it slowly with his thumb while his lips slide easily away from my own. His kisses move to my neck and I angle my head upwards to allow him a better angle. I tug up on his shirt, wanting it gone, and I feel him grin. He sits up, letting me pull the fabric up and over his head, tossing it to the floor. When he comes back down, his lips connect with my clavicle sending chills down my spine. He bites down, his teeth grazing the angular bone and making me gasp. My hips involuntarily buck up into him and he chuckles, making me feel self-conscious suddenly. Am I doing something wrong?
Ike seems to know exactly what I'm thinking and his tongue slips across my shoulder. "You're doing great, baby."
The pet name makes my stomach flutter, butterflies ripping at the insides of me and driving me on. Zacky's lips trail down my chest, his tongue swirling around my nipple and going lower. My breath hitches when he starts unzipping my pants with his teeth. I watch him, my eyes wide and focused on his swift movements. It almost feels like this is not even happening, like this is some extravagant wet dream and I'm going to wake up any second, forced back into reality, alone in my bed with a raging boner. It's like an outer-body experience, as if I'm watching this happen to someone else.
But I don't wake up, because it is real; in fact it's so real that it is surreal. Ike doesn't disappear, his movements don't cease. Instead, I continue watching him, completely perplexed by the fact that this is actually happening, and in one small fraction of a second, the remainder of my clothes are gone. I'm completely exposed in front of Ike, like I had (in a way) daydreamed about so many times before, but in this moment I want nothing more than to cover myself up and cringe away from his steady gaze.
I feel insecure and scared and horny and I want to close my eyes and hope I become invisible before he can come to his senses and laugh in my face. His eyes wander over my body, making me feel nervous. I never honestly thought this moment would come, being completely susceptible to rejection and weakness, showing literally all of myself in this way. But in this second, I feel like I've laid out every secret I've ever had, disclosed every thought and dream and fear that I've experienced, making myself completely and utterly bare. I feel terrified that Ike is seeing all of me in this way and I want nothing more than to hide myself from his scrutiny.
But Ike doesn't seem to notice my introspection. He's focused on nothing more than my bare body, the physical attraction between us that is undeniably there. When he lowers his hand to stroke his cool fingers against my exposed erection, all of my thoughts disappear. Everything except the sensation his touch causes fades away and I suck in my bottom lip.
I find myself closing my eyes, bucking my hips upward, needing more than this simple contact. I need him inside of me. "Just... fuck me... Ike," I gasp in between panting breaths.
Ike's touch disappears and I force my eyes open, wanting to see where he is. When my eyes land on him, I swallow hard. He's standing up at the end of the bed, grinning at me with a mouthful of braces as he tugs his own jeans off.
Okay, I must be dreaming. That's the only way it seems possible that Ike fucking Hanson is standing in front of me, completely naked, about to enter me. It seems like too much, too soon, but I can't control it. I want him -- need him -- and, though I'm not exactly sure I'm absolutely ready for this, I feel the need to please him. I want to make him feel the way he makes me feel. I want him to know about the butterflies in my stomach, the sweat that convenes on my palms, the way my brain seems to be wiped completely clean when he just walks by. I want to do this, for him and for me.
Ike smiles at me reassuringly. "You ready for this, baby?"
I swallow every word that seems to form in my throat, all of them catching and not seeming to find a way out. My hands find his hips once again, with the way his body rubbing against mine leaving me speechless. This is what I want. I'm ready. But the words won't come out and I settle with a simple nod, letting Ike and my own carnal instinct(s) take over and do the rest.