ficlet | Somewhere Under the Moon | Spencer/Brendon | NC-17 | ~1800 words
Somewhere Under the Moon
Spencer/Brendon | NC-17 | ~1800 words
I wrote a ficlet about Spencer, Brendon, and cake. This is the porny continuation of that, where they have sleepytimez. For airgiodslv ♥. Thanks to elfiepike for looking this over.
Spencer laces his fingers behind his back and arches, enjoying the pop pop pop as his spine cracks. He looks around the hotel room, rubbing his cheeks while he considers. He wants a shower, but he really just wants to get to sleep, and he hates going to bed with wet hair. Brendon's in the bathroom already, but Spencer doesn't hear the shower running.
The door is ajar, and Spencer nudges it open the rest of the way. Brendon stands in front of the mirror, making faces at himself.
When Spencer says, "Hey," Brendon grins, and toothpaste starts dripping out of the corners of his mouth. Spencer rolls his eyes, resting one hip against the counter while Brendon bends over and rinses his mouth.
Brendon splashes his face with water, then drinks out of his palms. When he stands up straight, his lips look really fucking red, though probably only because the rest of his skin is so pale. Brendon looks tired.
"Can you set the alarm?" Spencer asks, grabbing Brendon's toothbrush off the counter and retrieving the toothpaste from under a washcloth.
When Spencer comes out of the bathroom again, Brendon is lying sideways on one of the beds. He's not asleep; he squints at Spencer upside down and twists his face into something resembling a smile. Spencer walks over and brushes his fingers over the fluff of hair lifting away from Brendon's forehead.
Neither of them are wearing their pyjamas when Spencer climbs onto the bed. Spencer pushes the top cover away, and lies on his back, lifting up his hips as he tries to convince his jeans to slide down without pulling his underwear away with them. Brendon doesn't even try to move, head flat against the bed and still feet away from the pillow.
Spencer manages to get his jeans down and wiggles his underwear back into place. He reaches out his leg and nudges Brendon's thigh with the tips of his toes. "Go turn off the lights," he says.
"You turn off the lights," Brendon murmurs.
"I asked first," Spencer says.
"I was already lying down," Brendon says. "You should have got them on the way to bed."
"I might have landed on you, then," Spencer says. "If I had to try to find the bed in the dark. I might have landed on your head."
"Nuh-huh," Brendon says. He stares up at the ceiling, grinning to himself.
Spencer pushes himself up on his elbows a little, looking down at Brendon. Brendon's eyelashes keep fluttering, like he's looking around the room, only his gaze is totally unfocused. He doesn't notice Spencer watching him until his turns his head around, obviously cutting himself off before he says the words that he had planned. Instead, he uses his feet to push himself up the bed, shimmying until he's closer to Spencer. He gives one final push, then settles again with a loud sigh.
"Go get the lights," Spencer says again, voice slower this time, softer with Brendon this close. They both know that Brendon isn't going to get the lights, but Spencer still puts up a token protest.
"'Kay," Brendon says. He tilts his face up to Spencer, even as his eyes start sliding shut. Not a slow, deliberate shutting, like he does when he wants Spencer to kiss him, wants Spencer to make the first move, and he closes his eyes even before Spencer starts leaning in. Instead, his eyelids sink down in little intervals, like he catches himself each time, but can only continue to hold them open for so long.
Spencer's skin is a little itchy, like sand and grime, and like exhausted feels. His eyes want to shut, too, so he lets them. In that first cool wash of dark, Spencer thinks that he's going to fall asleep, just like this, half-dressed, with the lights still on. He breathes, but instead of floating off, he starts to notice the red glow of the lights still on, the way his legs are kind of cold, and how he'd rather be under the blankets, and how Brendon's right beside him, breathing almost silently, like he really did manage to fall asleep. Spencer opens his eyes.
Brendon's mouth is open a little, a soft curve. His skin is paletired and it makes the stubble on his chin stand out even darker, his eyelashes dark and thick, even against the bags under his eyes.
He's fully dressed, and Spencer thinks that he shouldn't be. Spencer sighs, tries to shut his eyes again, but it's still too bright, and Brendon's still too close, and Spencer rolls over and up, holding himself over Brendon. He leans down until he's close enough to smell Brendon's skin, and says, "You have to put on your pyjamas."
Brendon inhales loudly, and nods. He doesn't open his eyes.
Spencer touches his lips to the curve of Brendon's ear lobe; soft, soft skin. Soft like the hair on the nape of Brendon's neck, like the curve of his thighs when he's spreading his legs open.
Soft like the tip of his tongue, slipping against Spencer's with the tiniest hint of motion, when he opens his mouth for Spencer. Spencer keeps the kiss shallow, just to where Brendon's tongue is still sweet with toothpaste.
Brendon's body shifts in a little wave, fitting against Spencer's. Spencer's hair curves down, tickling into his eyes, brushing Brendon's forehead. Spencer lets his head drop, too, resting their foreheads together. Brendon tilts his head so that they fit, slides his legs open a couple of inches so that there's room for Spencer between his thighs. He's still breathing quietly, but a little deeper now.
Brendon's hard. Brendon's hard, but Brendon was already hard, since Spencer first walked out of the bathroom, and it doesn't really mean anything.
Spencer lifts his forehead away, hovering his mouth just over Brendon's, and waits until Brendon's lips part, until his chip tilts up, until his breathing changes. Spencer sets his teeth into the fleshy curve of Brendon's lip, holding on but not digging in. Brendon makes a low noise when Spencer gives a tiny tug. His hands come up from where they were resting on the bed, and curl around Spencer's elbows. Spencer's arms are tight with the effort of holding his weight off of Brendon, and Brendon's hands barely brush his skin.
Spencer wants Brendon's mouth.
Instead, he kisses him again: wet, noisy kisses. Brendon is pliant beneath him, such that Spencer's skin itches in an entirely different way, and he makes himself pull away, rolling off Brendon until he's resting on his side on the mattress. Brendon's follows him, curving his body to face Spencer's. Spencer kisses him again, quickly, then makes himself close his eyes while he breathes deeply. He can still smell Brendon; it doesn't help.
When Spencer opens his eyes again, Brendon is squinting at him, blinking slowly. His face is scrunched up, bleary, and something flares up and spreads through Spencer's lower belly.
Brendon gives him an easy smile, then reaches out. His hand is careful when he pulls Spencer's dick out of his underwear, but his grip tightens once he gets his hand around Spencer's cock.
Spencer whispers, "Lick your hand," and Brendon does. He licks his palm and his fingers, and Spencer watches the way his tongue moves.
His hand is nice and wet when he reaches for Spencer again, and it's better. It's not Brendon's mouth, but it's good, and, anyway, Spencer can roll his hips like this. Doesn't have to be careful when he thrusts forward. He keeps pushing forward until Brendon picks up the rhythm he wants, and then they settle into it. Brendon's eyes are shut, but he adds a little twists to the upstrokes, so Spencer just takes advantage of Brendon's shut eyes to watch him carefully, the line of his eyelashes, the fullness of his mouth, the way his skin stretches thin along the tops of his cheekbones.
Spencer keeps working his hips, even when Brendon's holding onto the rhythm all on his own, because it helps push him faster towards orgasm. Spencer likes coming when he's tired, likes the extra edge, like it's a little cleaner when he first pushes through the fog of sleep. He comes, and he can't keep his eyes open, even though he meant to keep watching Brendon. Spencer's body jerks hard, and Spencer's dimly aware that he's coming all over the sheets.
His dick goes kind of raw afterwards, but not hypersensitive. Not enough that he couldn't ride through it on the way to round two. He doesn't, though. He makes himself roll away, roll off the bed and stagger towards the light switch, because he knows it's just going to be harder if he lets himself settle again.
He makes his way back to the bed in the dark, and feels out the line of Brendon's body with both hands. Brendon sighs a little when he feels Spencer touch him again, but he makes no move to help Spencer peel his jeans away.
Brendon makes a muffled little noise when Spencer closes his mouth around his cock, but Spencer can't make out if it's an actual word. Brendon is still beneath him, but not still and tight with the effort to hold back, not still and shaking like he gets when Spencer tells him he can't move. He's still and loose, even though his cock is hard in Spencer's mouth. His hands stay where they were: one curled up on the pillow, the other resting on the sheets.
He murmurs again, but the words are too thick on his tongue for Spencer to understand. Spencer just sucks harder; when Brendon talks while Spencer's blowing him, that's usually what he's asking for. Brendon mumbles something else, and then he's silent for a long stretch. He makes a sharp sound, just before he comes, then shivers, all down his body, before stilling.
Spencer's mouth still mostly tastes like toothpaste, so he doesn't mind swallowing. He crawls back up the bed. Neither of them are wearing pants, even though they've both still got their shirts on. Spencer knows they should move to the other bed, but it's not like the wet spot is any grosser than whatever's making his skin feel grimy. Brendon never cares about a little mess, even when it's on his skin.
Brendon draws in on himself, pulling his knees up and tucking his arms in. He's facing away from Spencer. Spencer brushes the back of his knuckles along the nape of Brendon's neck, and Brendon doesn't stir. Spencer touches along the bumps of his spine though his shirt, the flare of his hip, before pulling his hand back, tucking it under his chin, watching the line of Brendon's back until finally his eyes get heavy.
Spencer/Brendon | NC-17 | ~1800 words
I wrote a ficlet about Spencer, Brendon, and cake. This is the porny continuation of that, where they have sleepytimez. For airgiodslv ♥. Thanks to elfiepike for looking this over.
Spencer laces his fingers behind his back and arches, enjoying the pop pop pop as his spine cracks. He looks around the hotel room, rubbing his cheeks while he considers. He wants a shower, but he really just wants to get to sleep, and he hates going to bed with wet hair. Brendon's in the bathroom already, but Spencer doesn't hear the shower running.
The door is ajar, and Spencer nudges it open the rest of the way. Brendon stands in front of the mirror, making faces at himself.
When Spencer says, "Hey," Brendon grins, and toothpaste starts dripping out of the corners of his mouth. Spencer rolls his eyes, resting one hip against the counter while Brendon bends over and rinses his mouth.
Brendon splashes his face with water, then drinks out of his palms. When he stands up straight, his lips look really fucking red, though probably only because the rest of his skin is so pale. Brendon looks tired.
"Can you set the alarm?" Spencer asks, grabbing Brendon's toothbrush off the counter and retrieving the toothpaste from under a washcloth.
When Spencer comes out of the bathroom again, Brendon is lying sideways on one of the beds. He's not asleep; he squints at Spencer upside down and twists his face into something resembling a smile. Spencer walks over and brushes his fingers over the fluff of hair lifting away from Brendon's forehead.
Neither of them are wearing their pyjamas when Spencer climbs onto the bed. Spencer pushes the top cover away, and lies on his back, lifting up his hips as he tries to convince his jeans to slide down without pulling his underwear away with them. Brendon doesn't even try to move, head flat against the bed and still feet away from the pillow.
Spencer manages to get his jeans down and wiggles his underwear back into place. He reaches out his leg and nudges Brendon's thigh with the tips of his toes. "Go turn off the lights," he says.
"You turn off the lights," Brendon murmurs.
"I asked first," Spencer says.
"I was already lying down," Brendon says. "You should have got them on the way to bed."
"I might have landed on you, then," Spencer says. "If I had to try to find the bed in the dark. I might have landed on your head."
"Nuh-huh," Brendon says. He stares up at the ceiling, grinning to himself.
Spencer pushes himself up on his elbows a little, looking down at Brendon. Brendon's eyelashes keep fluttering, like he's looking around the room, only his gaze is totally unfocused. He doesn't notice Spencer watching him until his turns his head around, obviously cutting himself off before he says the words that he had planned. Instead, he uses his feet to push himself up the bed, shimmying until he's closer to Spencer. He gives one final push, then settles again with a loud sigh.
"Go get the lights," Spencer says again, voice slower this time, softer with Brendon this close. They both know that Brendon isn't going to get the lights, but Spencer still puts up a token protest.
"'Kay," Brendon says. He tilts his face up to Spencer, even as his eyes start sliding shut. Not a slow, deliberate shutting, like he does when he wants Spencer to kiss him, wants Spencer to make the first move, and he closes his eyes even before Spencer starts leaning in. Instead, his eyelids sink down in little intervals, like he catches himself each time, but can only continue to hold them open for so long.
Spencer's skin is a little itchy, like sand and grime, and like exhausted feels. His eyes want to shut, too, so he lets them. In that first cool wash of dark, Spencer thinks that he's going to fall asleep, just like this, half-dressed, with the lights still on. He breathes, but instead of floating off, he starts to notice the red glow of the lights still on, the way his legs are kind of cold, and how he'd rather be under the blankets, and how Brendon's right beside him, breathing almost silently, like he really did manage to fall asleep. Spencer opens his eyes.
Brendon's mouth is open a little, a soft curve. His skin is paletired and it makes the stubble on his chin stand out even darker, his eyelashes dark and thick, even against the bags under his eyes.
He's fully dressed, and Spencer thinks that he shouldn't be. Spencer sighs, tries to shut his eyes again, but it's still too bright, and Brendon's still too close, and Spencer rolls over and up, holding himself over Brendon. He leans down until he's close enough to smell Brendon's skin, and says, "You have to put on your pyjamas."
Brendon inhales loudly, and nods. He doesn't open his eyes.
Spencer touches his lips to the curve of Brendon's ear lobe; soft, soft skin. Soft like the hair on the nape of Brendon's neck, like the curve of his thighs when he's spreading his legs open.
Soft like the tip of his tongue, slipping against Spencer's with the tiniest hint of motion, when he opens his mouth for Spencer. Spencer keeps the kiss shallow, just to where Brendon's tongue is still sweet with toothpaste.
Brendon's body shifts in a little wave, fitting against Spencer's. Spencer's hair curves down, tickling into his eyes, brushing Brendon's forehead. Spencer lets his head drop, too, resting their foreheads together. Brendon tilts his head so that they fit, slides his legs open a couple of inches so that there's room for Spencer between his thighs. He's still breathing quietly, but a little deeper now.
Brendon's hard. Brendon's hard, but Brendon was already hard, since Spencer first walked out of the bathroom, and it doesn't really mean anything.
Spencer lifts his forehead away, hovering his mouth just over Brendon's, and waits until Brendon's lips part, until his chip tilts up, until his breathing changes. Spencer sets his teeth into the fleshy curve of Brendon's lip, holding on but not digging in. Brendon makes a low noise when Spencer gives a tiny tug. His hands come up from where they were resting on the bed, and curl around Spencer's elbows. Spencer's arms are tight with the effort of holding his weight off of Brendon, and Brendon's hands barely brush his skin.
Spencer wants Brendon's mouth.
Instead, he kisses him again: wet, noisy kisses. Brendon is pliant beneath him, such that Spencer's skin itches in an entirely different way, and he makes himself pull away, rolling off Brendon until he's resting on his side on the mattress. Brendon's follows him, curving his body to face Spencer's. Spencer kisses him again, quickly, then makes himself close his eyes while he breathes deeply. He can still smell Brendon; it doesn't help.
When Spencer opens his eyes again, Brendon is squinting at him, blinking slowly. His face is scrunched up, bleary, and something flares up and spreads through Spencer's lower belly.
Brendon gives him an easy smile, then reaches out. His hand is careful when he pulls Spencer's dick out of his underwear, but his grip tightens once he gets his hand around Spencer's cock.
Spencer whispers, "Lick your hand," and Brendon does. He licks his palm and his fingers, and Spencer watches the way his tongue moves.
His hand is nice and wet when he reaches for Spencer again, and it's better. It's not Brendon's mouth, but it's good, and, anyway, Spencer can roll his hips like this. Doesn't have to be careful when he thrusts forward. He keeps pushing forward until Brendon picks up the rhythm he wants, and then they settle into it. Brendon's eyes are shut, but he adds a little twists to the upstrokes, so Spencer just takes advantage of Brendon's shut eyes to watch him carefully, the line of his eyelashes, the fullness of his mouth, the way his skin stretches thin along the tops of his cheekbones.
Spencer keeps working his hips, even when Brendon's holding onto the rhythm all on his own, because it helps push him faster towards orgasm. Spencer likes coming when he's tired, likes the extra edge, like it's a little cleaner when he first pushes through the fog of sleep. He comes, and he can't keep his eyes open, even though he meant to keep watching Brendon. Spencer's body jerks hard, and Spencer's dimly aware that he's coming all over the sheets.
His dick goes kind of raw afterwards, but not hypersensitive. Not enough that he couldn't ride through it on the way to round two. He doesn't, though. He makes himself roll away, roll off the bed and stagger towards the light switch, because he knows it's just going to be harder if he lets himself settle again.
He makes his way back to the bed in the dark, and feels out the line of Brendon's body with both hands. Brendon sighs a little when he feels Spencer touch him again, but he makes no move to help Spencer peel his jeans away.
Brendon makes a muffled little noise when Spencer closes his mouth around his cock, but Spencer can't make out if it's an actual word. Brendon is still beneath him, but not still and tight with the effort to hold back, not still and shaking like he gets when Spencer tells him he can't move. He's still and loose, even though his cock is hard in Spencer's mouth. His hands stay where they were: one curled up on the pillow, the other resting on the sheets.
He murmurs again, but the words are too thick on his tongue for Spencer to understand. Spencer just sucks harder; when Brendon talks while Spencer's blowing him, that's usually what he's asking for. Brendon mumbles something else, and then he's silent for a long stretch. He makes a sharp sound, just before he comes, then shivers, all down his body, before stilling.
Spencer's mouth still mostly tastes like toothpaste, so he doesn't mind swallowing. He crawls back up the bed. Neither of them are wearing pants, even though they've both still got their shirts on. Spencer knows they should move to the other bed, but it's not like the wet spot is any grosser than whatever's making his skin feel grimy. Brendon never cares about a little mess, even when it's on his skin.
Brendon draws in on himself, pulling his knees up and tucking his arms in. He's facing away from Spencer. Spencer brushes the back of his knuckles along the nape of Brendon's neck, and Brendon doesn't stir. Spencer touches along the bumps of his spine though his shirt, the flare of his hip, before pulling his hand back, tucking it under his chin, watching the line of Brendon's back until finally his eyes get heavy.