KinkFest Fic that doesn't deserve a title.
I honestly have no clue how this happened. Somehow even though I was crazy busy at work today I managed to write 3000 words of something that had no kink it for 
eledhwenlin's amazing KinkFest and then I came home and wrote another 2000 words and kink actually happened. But there is no ending! I got to a point where I knew it had to stop but I wasn't sure how and so I literally just wrote THE END. So, you know. Keep that in mind. Also, this has not been beta'd, so keep that in mind because if random typos and tense shifts are dealbreakers for you this is information you need.
Written for
roebling's prompt: Brendon wants nothing more than to see highschool! or early Panic! Spencer in a pair of high heels. Spencer's willing to try, but once he's got the shoes on his feet and he's wobbling around he's sure he just looks like a huge fool. Brendon convinces him otherwise.
Brendon/Spencer | NC-17 | Warnings: Characters perform safe sex and unsafe sex, because kids still think that blowjobs don't count | 5000 words
Brendon didn’t remember how it started.
No, that’s a lie. He remembered the exact moment the idea popped into his head. He’d been watching as Spencer goofed around backstage with the dancers, laughing as Katie tugged on his hips and twirled him around in mimicry of the act she performed on stage. Spencer had been uncharacteristically willing to go along with the joke, eyes bright and cheeks flushed as he danced around the room in bare feet, deftly moving aside when one of Katie’s heels came too close to his toes. Spencer had looked so good, twirled and then clutched close to Katie, taller in her heels. Heels, Brendon had thought, Spence should be wearing heels. Just a random image, another fantasy to cycle through when Brendon was stuck in his bunk without access to Spencer’s pale skin, jerking off furtively before someone interrupted.
But Brendon didn’t remember when it grew from an occasional fantasy into a full blown obsession, when he started looking at high heels online and imagining which one would look best on Spencer’s foot. Brendon was not good at keeping secrets, and it felt weird not to share this with Spencer. They were always honest with each other, had been since before their first sloppy kiss in Maryland, and hiding this part of himself felt uncomfortably close to lying. It wasn’t like the time Brendon had asked Spencer to spank him, which had been hot as fuck, because Brendon didn’t even want Spencer to do anything crazy. He didn’t want Spencer to wear a dress, he wasn’t even sure what Spencer should wear with the heels, and he didn’t want Spencer to dance for him. He just wanted to watch. It was weird. Brendon felt really weird.
Spencer had probably noticed that something was up, he was pretty good at reading Brendon’s moods, but he seemed to be waiting for Brendon to open the topic for discussion. Of course, just as Brendon wasn’t really known for being subtle, Spencer was not known for being patient, so it shouldn’t have been so surprising when the next hotel night rolled around Spencer put a plan into action. Before the door had even closed behind them, Spencer had his duffle open on the farthest bed and Brendon knew he wasn’t looking for the lube and condoms.
“I’m going to shower,” Spencer said, with tone did not suggest an invite to join him. Brendon dropped down on the opposite bed with a sigh, but Spencer seemed impervious to his distress. “You should find a movie for us to watch or something,” he said, confirming Brendon’s suspicions that there would be no activities involving dicks at all. Which was a travesty, but Brendon was wise to Spencer’s ways. This was an obvious ploy to orchestrate some ‘talking time’ and if Brendon tried to divert from the plan Spencer would just ask outright. At this point, desperate as he was, Brendon would still rather just cuddle in sexual frustration.
“Will do, captain,” Brendon gave a jaunty salute, pleased with Spencer obviously couldn’t stifle a grin, even as he rolled his eyes.
“Whatever, dork,” he said, sweeping his palm across the crown of Brendon’s head as he passed by with a change of clothes and toiletries clutched awkwardly in the crook of his elbow.
Brendon had the TV on before Spencer reached the bathroom. Spencer was going to be naked, and wet, very soon and if he didn’t have a distraction something embarrassing would probably happen. Brendon crossed to the other bed long enough to grab all the pillows, he and Spencer would be sharing and Brendon loved surrounding himself with fluffy hotel pillows. Once settled in his pillow fortress he sniffed under his arm as he flipped through the channels, but the quick wash down and outfit change at the venue had done the trick. Mostly. Whatever, Spencer probably wasn’t going to be getting close enough to smell him anyway.
“There is nothing on TV,” Brendon said to himself. The cardboard sign on the entertainment hutch read WE HAVE DELUXE CABLE!, but deluxe seemed to mean an assortment of news programs and the Vision network and a channel dedicated to musicals, the latter Brendon eventually settles on. Spencer wouldn’t approve, but he just didn’t understand the epic nature of Curly and Laurey’s romance.
“Ugh, Brendon, Oklahoma?” Spencer was at the foot of the bed, hip cocked and dressed in soft pajama pants and the pink t-shirt that made Brendon want to bite his belly.
“There’s nothing else on,” Brendon said, making a point of looking past Spencer at the television.
“I hate this movie,” Spencer announced, as though there were any doubt. He tossed his dirty clothes back in his duffle and pulled out the book that Ryan had nagged him into reading. Brendon kept his eye on Spencer as he crawled onto the bed alongside him, Spencer was a known pillow thief and Brendon was comfortably settled against the headboard. But Spencer sat facing Brendon, collapsing into the pillows fanned across the top of the bed and curling up with his feet in Brendon’s lap as he opened the paperback.
“What,” Brendon huffed, pulse racing. His left hand was under the curve of Spencer’s ankle and he jerked it free.
“If I face the TV I’ll get distracted,” Spencer said, brows furrowed, already trying to find his place on the page. “And I just showered, dude. My feet don’t stink.”
“So you say,” Brendon said, trying to think of another reason why this arrangement was unacceptable. A reason besides the real one.
“And the dream sequence part really freaks me out, it’s so rapey,” Spencer snuggled further into the pillows, his feet arching a little as he shifted.
“My mom didn’t care for that part either, what with the magic potion business,” Brendon said, and as horrifying as it is to think of his mother right now, when he feels like his skin might explode, it also helps. “Actually, there was a lot about this musical that my mom didn’t like.”
“What parent doesn’t love a musical about murder, sex and cheating?” Spencer murmured, not lifting his eyes from the book. Brendon chuckled and started relaxing despite himself. By the time they got to the dream sequence, and whoa, Spencer was so right, it was downright creepy, Spencer’s eyelids had started to droop and Brendon didn’t think he’d turned a page in a few minutes. His hands felt awkward at his sides, so Brendon risked dropping his left hand in his lap, casually, and then cupping Spencer’s ankle.
“I’m awake,” Spencer said, rousing himself a little and visibly refocusing on the words in front of him.
“Yeah, I bet,” Brendon said, stroking his thumb against the arch of Spencer’s foot. He can feel his cheeks flush, but he doesn’t want to stop. The skin there is so thin and soft and pale. He imagined the strap of a black heel crossing Spencer’s ankle, imagined how it would feel under his fingertips, to go from skin to strap.
“That feels nice,” Spencer sighed, toes curling into Brendon’s thigh.
“Yeah,” Brendon could barely get the word out, his throat was so tight. Spencer’s eyes had closed, but they open now.
“Are you,” he stopped, and Brendon followed his gaze to his lap, where his hand hadn’t stopped moving, where his dick was hard and visible through the line of his pants.
“Um…”
“I knew they didn’t stink,” Spencer said, no longer on the verge of sleep but still a little dazed. Brendon spared a moment to be grateful that his boyfriend was such a weirdo that it wouldn’t occur to him to freak out first. “Is this what you’ve been worrying about? Do you have a …” Spencer furrowed his brow, “A foot fetish?”
“Maybe,” Brendon took a breath and made his hand still, tried to force his erection down with the power of his mind. His dick, obstinate as always, did not want to get with the program. “I don’t know. It’s weird.”
“Just tell me,” Spencer said, reaching out to touch Brendon’s elbow. It felt anchoring, Spencer wasn’t pulling away, he wasn’t freaked out, but Brendon still couldn’t get the words out.
“I don’t know how to explain it,” Brendon said. On the television, Curly was selling everyone he owned so he could be with Laurey. Brendon would list all his guitars on eBay this second if it meant Spencer wouldn’t leave. He was so focused on not making eye contact that he almost fell off the bed when Spencer moved to straddle him, unzipping his pants and licking a stripe across his palm before sliding a hand into his boxers.
“Tell me what you think about when you’re doing this,” Spencer’s lips moved against the shell of Brendon’s ear as he started stroking his cock, slow and purposeful.
“Spence,” Brendon squirmed and gasped and clutched Spencer’s hips desperately. Spencer nipped at the curve of his neck, but didn’t pull back to make eye contact.
“Tell me, Bren, it’s okay.” Spencer said. “It’s my feet, right?”
“Yeah, but,” Brendon bucked up into Spencer’s fist, mouth dropping open on a moan. “In heels, I think about you wearing high heels.”
“Like, in a dress?” Spencer’s hand faltered for a moment and Brendon shook his head quickly.
“No, just, just you, in heels,” he whimpered when Spencer’s rhythm started again, faster this time. “I saw you dancing with Katie,” he said, and Spencer twisted his wrist, dirty cheater that he was, and Brendon came over his belly and Spencer’s hand. “Fuck,” Brendon tried to take a breath, but his heart felt like it was going to burst right out of his chest. He’d be embarrassed by how fast he’d come, but right now there were bigger problems. Spencer was still draped across his lap, half hard against his hip, but he hadn’t lifted his hand from Brendon’s shoulder yet and Brendon knew he was probably holding onto him tight enough to bruise. “Is it too messed up?”
“No, B, it’s not messed up,” Spencer nuzzled close. “I want to try it,”
“You do?” Brendon knows he sounds skeptical, but he can’t help it. Every time he had imagined this conversation the best case scenario had been Spencer not breaking up with him.
“Yeah,” Spencer sat back, just far enough that he could meet Brendon’s gaze. “Dude, you just came in, like, five seconds. Anything that gets you that turned on sounds hot to me.”
“Oh, gee, when you put it that way,” Brendon sniffed, a little embarrassed but mostly… happy.
“You know what I mean. You’re really into it, I like that. I want to try it.” Spencer licked his lips and smiled a little. “Just don’t laugh when I fall on my face.”
“I wouldn’t let you fall,” Brendon said, and that felt a little corny, but a faint blush crept across Spencer’s cheekbones. Brendon shifted a little, and became acutely aware that his dick was hanging out of his pants and he was a little messy, not to mention he hadn’t exactly reciprocated. “Do you want me to, uh,” he gestured, probably crudely, at Spencer’s crotch.
“How romantic,” Spencer snorted, and then moved back off Brendon’s lap. “Naw, I’m tired. And I want to cuddle.”
After a quick clean up and a new pair of boxers for Brendon, they crawled back into bed and Brendon rolled onto his back and tugged Spencer close. Spencer settled with his cheek to Brendon’s chest, and sighed happily when Brendon started scratching his fingers against his scalp.
“I should figure out what my size in lady shoes is,” Spencer yawned.
“Yeah?” Brendon said, not daring to continue.
“Yeah. So you know what size to get,” Spencer’s words were slow and just a little slurred, he was obviously half asleep, and Brendon felt only slightly guilty when he tugged a handful of hair just a little too hard, enough to keep Spencer awake. “Ow,” he whined.
“You want me to pick them out?” Brendon asked. “You don’t mind?”
“It’s for you, Bren. You should pick them out.” Spencer said. “Just, no snakeskin.”
Brendon laughed, and pressed a lingering kiss to Spencer’s temple. “No snakeskin,” he agreed, and let Spencer fall asleep.
***
Brendon had thought that finding heels big enough for Spencer would be harder, imagined himself trawling fetish websites that specialized in Lucite platforms, but he quickly realized that not all women wore a size six shoe and that Spencer’s feet were not that big. He spent an increasing amount of time huddled in his bunk with his laptop after everyone had gone to sleep, looking at the heels, knowing that he could buy them for Spencer, made him feel an exhaustive mixture of excitement, desperation and anxiety. Spencer said it wasn’t too weird, didn’t creep him out, but maybe he’d feel differently when he was wearing the actual shoes. Brendon tried not to think about that possibility too much. When he finally found the pair he wanted he didn’t feel the euphoria he’d expected, not when he clicked buy, not when the delivery was confirmed to his apartment in Vegas, not when the last days of the tour clicked by. He was anxious, mostly a low level worry that kept a constant beat in the back of his mind. Spencer tried to help, but reminding Brendon of what a great boyfriend he was, how much Brendon had to lose, only made it worse.
By the time they finally got home to Vegas Brendon had almost forgotten that the package, along with the rest of his mail, would be waiting at the concierge desk of his apartment building. He juggled the detritus of his mailbox along with his duffle, and even though he could have used the extra hands he was a little glad that Spencer had gone to his parents’ house for the night. Brendon wasn’t sure he could have opened the box with Spencer at his shoulder.
The shoes were perfect, black and simple with a small zipper at the back that sent a thrill through Brendon every time he looked at them. Though the straps weren’t thin and delicate, rather two bands that crossed at the front of the ankle, Brendon found he preferred them. They would look stunning, plus less likely to irritate delicate skin and more likely to keep the shoe on Spencer’s foot. Brendon had tried to choose something a little easier for a beginner, it had occurred to him that the actual worst case scenario now was that Spencer toppled to the floor and broke a limb, but once he’d seen them he hadn’t been able to resist. Spencer wouldn’t even have to walk in them at first, and Brendon would make sure to keep him close. He meant to keep his promise, he wouldn’t let Spencer fall.
By the time Spencer had come over, and essentially moved in as was his habit off tour, Brendon had hidden the shoes at the back of his closet. He needed the right moment to show them to Spencer, he needed a plan. But a plan failed to pop into his head, fully formed, and Brendon knew that Spencer was probably wondering when, and he knew that the longer he waited the more he would get stuck in his own head and he was tired of waiting.
They’d gone to dinner with Spencer’s sisters, who had insisted on dressing up, and Spencer was still in that ‘just home’ space where he was happy to indulge them. Spencer and Brendon had worn dress shirts and slacks and the girls had been giddy in their dresses. Now Spencer was stretched out on the bed, and wearing only his boxer briefs and his white dress shirt half unbuttoned as he watched Conan. Brendon was hanging his coat up in the closet, listening to the sounds of the television and Spencer’s commentary as he lingered between his shirts, fingertips on the shoebox. He wanted this, Spencer wanted it, too.
“This guy sucks,” Spencer opined. “What is he even saying, oh my God. His method?”
“Spence,” Brendon winced at the way his voice cracked, and cleared his throat. Spencer’s focus was on him now, the actor on TV forgotten. He pushed himself up into a sitting position and reached for the remote, Conan’s cackling laugh cut off abruptly. Brendon felt like an idiot, standing at the foot of the bed with a shoebox in his sweaty hands.
“Are those mine?” Spencer asked, a little coy, and Brendon released a breath, smiled a little.
“Yeah, they’re yours,” he said, reaching over to set them on the mattress. Spencer shifted closer, knees bent and sitting back on his heels as he took the cover off the box, his gaze shifting between Brendon’s face and the shoes. He was quiet as he pulled the shoes out of the tissue paper lined box, fingertips stroking the suede toe. “Do you like them?” Brendon asked when he couldn’t take the silence anymore. Spencer looked up, his lips parted and there was something close to awe on his face.
“Yeah,” he said. “They’re beautiful.” Spencer was holding one shoe in his lap, examining it.
“Can I put them on you?” Brendon asked, unable to take a breath until Spencer nodded. He pulled the box to the side and moved back as Spencer scooted forward, until he was sitting at the end of the bed with his feet on the floor.
“Should I, I don’t know, put some pants on?” Spencer’s brow was furrowed and Brendon couldn’t resist leaning in for a kiss.
“No,” Brendon said, “You’re perfect.” He knelt down, stroking Spencer’s calf as he placed both shoes beside him. He looked up to find Spencer watching him, gaze dark and serious. “You sure you want to do this?”
“Yes,” Spencer said, his fingers curling into the blankets. Brendon learned forward and kissed the inside of Spencer’s knee, smirking a little at the way Spencer shuddered under his touch. He could do this, they could do this. He slid his hand down to Spencer’s ankle and pulled his foot into his lap. The arch of the shoe was pretty extreme so Brendon knew that it wasn’t going to slide on like Cinderella’s glass slipper, and he laughed along with Spencer as they struggled to get first one shoe on and then the second. His laughter fell away as he straightened the bands along the top of Spencer’s foot, and Spencer was quiet, too. Brendon felt like his ribs were going to blow out, like there was something inside him he couldn’t contain.
“Spence,” Brendon murmured. He let his fingertips slide from Spencer knees to ankles, then over the tops of his feet then down to cup the soles of the shoes. Brendon stood, almost tripping over his own feet in his haste, and he makes himself slow down. He was supposed to be keeping Spencer steady, not spazzing out across the bedroom. He took Spencer’s hands and half pulled, half just assisted as Spencer stood on the heels.
“Holy shit,” Spencer gasped as he almost overbalanced, one ankle wobbling precariously.
“Take a breath, you’re fine,” Brendon said, and he wasn’t even sure where the sense of calm is coming from, but he felt totally in control. Spencer was absurdly tall in the heels, his arms dangling over Brendon’s shoulders as he steadied himself.
“Well, I’m not leaving the bedroom in these,” Spencer said finally, already a little out of breath.
“No, we should probably work up to that,” Brendon agreed. He smoothed a hand down Spencer’s back and waited until the tension was gone from his frame before moving a step back. From head to toe, Spencer looked amazing. Standing with one hip cocked he was a study of fluid lines and curves, chin tucked down so that his hair hung in front of his eyes. The undone buttons of his shirt showed tantalizing hints of shoulder, collarbone and belly.
Yeah, this wasn’t going to last long.
“How do they feel?” Brendon asked, taking another step back. Spencer whimpered and reached out for Brendon’s wrists but Brendon ducked away before he could touch. “You can sit back down if you feel like you’re gonna fall, I want to look at you.”
“Bren,” Spencer shifted his weight from foot to foot, and Brendon could see that moment that he found his balance, watched as his stance became languid and soft. “Do you like them?”
“Baby, I love them,” Brendon leered, waggled his eyebrows and was rewarded with a huff of laughter and a familiar smirk. “Do you like them?”
“Yeah,” Spencer said, after a moment’s pause. “I really do,” he sounded surprised, and Brendon felt relief sluice through him. As amazing as this was, Brendon didn’t want it if Spencer was only humoring him.
Brendon backed up until he was at the armchair by the window. The decorator he’d hired had insisted that he would use a chair in the bedroom, until now it had just been another place to toss his clothes. He didn’t think that she’d had this in mind, but he was grateful for her insistence now. He sat and crooked his finger.
“C’mere,” he said. Spencer bit his lip and shifted a little, and Brendon’s mouth went dry. With his fingers curled up in his shirtcuffs and long, lean legs, Spencer looked like pure sex. Brendon couldn’t wait to get his hands on that pale skin, but he wasn’t going to leave the chair. Spencer’s steps were small and halting but the sway to his hips and the flex of his calf muscles was so fucking graceful. It seemed to take an hour for Spencer to cross the ten feet of hardwood between them, as soon as he was within reach Brendon grabbed onto his hips and guided him down into his lap. Spencer collapsed gratefully, and Brendon could feel a slight tremble in his limbs.
“That probably looked ridiculous,” Spencer said, and Brendon could feel the heat of his cheeks.
“No, it looked amazing,” Brendon said, and he met Spencer’s doubtful stare head on. He reached up to cup the curve of Spencer’s jaw. “You’re so beautiful,” he murmured. Spencer leaned in and kissed Brendon hard, with lips and teeth and tongue and rolled his hips forward so he was settled in Brendon’s lap.
“Fuck, you say these things, these stupid things,” Spencer gasped between kisses, gripping a handful of Brendon’s hair to keep him positioned as he wanted.
“You’re stupid if you don’t think I’m right,” Brendon countered, touching every inch of Spencer that he could. He could feel his cock throbbing, sensations building as Spencer pushed closer. “I’m not going to come in my pants,” he said as he pushed Spencer back.
“Oh yeah?” Spencer grinned and Brendon kept pushing until they were both struggling to their feet. “Do not let me fall,” Spencer warned as he stumbled back a step.
“You worry too much,” Brendon kept a hand on his elbow, just in case.
“So if you don’t want to come in your pants...” Spencer arched an eyebrow in question.
“I want to fuck you,” Brendon said, and his cock twitched when Spencer let his mouth fall open and licked his bottom lip.
“Yeah, that works for me. Does that mean I can stop standing?” Spencer smiled, just enough to show that he was teasing, which was a relief, because Brendon had no intention of letting him off so easily.
“No,” Brendon put his hands on Spencer’s hips and guided him backwards in careful, measured steps. “I want you to face the bed, and bend over.” Spencer shivered under his palms but his eyes were dark and lidded. Brendon could see his erection straining in his boxer briefs and cupped his hand around Spencer’s dick just long enough to make him moan. “Bend over,” he whispered, and Spencer turned around and complied, bending at the waist until his fingers were clutching the mattress edge. The frame was high enough that even with the added inches Spencer wasn’t bent at too much an angle.
Brendon’s hands found Spencer’s hips again, and he pressed forward until he was grinding Spencer’s ass, moving experimentally to see just how steady Spencer would be on his feet.
“Fuck, Bren,” Spencer whimpered. “More, come on,”
“Yeah,” Brendon stepped back and chuckled low when Spencer whined. “I doubt you want me fucking you without lube and a condom, dude.”
“Just hurry up, jackass,” Spencer pressed his forehead into the mattress and arched his back, Brendon was so busy watching him that he barely avoided walking straight into the nightstand.
There was a visible tremble in Spencer’s thighs and all the muscles in his legs seemed to be straining and pulled taut. Brendon’s hands shook as he fumbled in the drawer. He didn’t waste any time crossing the room again. He dropped the supplies on the comforter next to Spencer’s head and ignored his cursing, focusing instead on pulling Spencer’s underwear down. He crouched down next to his feet, cupping the back of his calf as Spencer lifted one foot and then the other, stepping clear of the material. Brendon nuzzled the back of one knee, and laughed when Spencer’s leg almost buckled.
“Sorry, sorry,” he said, and pressed an apologetic kisses against the skin, and then kept kissing his way up until he was nipping the curve of Spencer’s ass. “Spread your legs,” Brendon said once he was standing again, one hand flat on the small of Spencer’s back. Again, Spencer lifted one foot carefully, bracing himself as wide as he could without his ankles giving out. If the apartment had caught fire around them, Brendon wouldn’t have been able to look away.
“Bren,” Spencer said, “Fuck me.”
“I’ve got you,” Brendon said, pushing his own pants down. He squeezed a generous amount of lube onto his fingertips and started hard and fast with one finger, Spencer always preferred rough over slow and easy. He made sure to take his time after that, Brendon was always wary of hurting Spencer at this point, when they were both worked up and desperate and it wouldn’t be later until the pain set in. Spencer whined and cursed and begged, but Brendon spent long minutes stretching him and teasing at this prostate. Spencer’s legs were shaking hard now and the dress shirt was damp and clung to the breadth of his shoulders. “Ready?”
“Fuck,” Spencer moaned, “I’ve been ready.”
Brendon slid the condom on and with a quick swipe of lube pressed in close until he was nudging up against Spencer’s hole. He held still for a moment longer, but he didn’t have the patience to tease and thrust forward, his cries matching Spencer’s as he bottomed out. Spencer was tight and hot around him and Brendon could already feel his orgasm building. There was no way he could risk loosening his grip on Spencer’s waist to reach around and jerk him off, Spencer kept his hands gripping the mattress for the same reason, but it wasn’t long before Brendon’s thrusts lost their rhythm and he came with a shout.
“Up, up,” Brendon basically had to lift Spencer’s legs as he crawled up onto the bed, and guided him over until he was on his back, legs splayed and cock flushed and leaking against his belly. The stiletto heels tugged and pulled at the sheets as Spencer’s legs shifted restlessly. “I got you,” Brendon said, leaving messy, open mouthed kisses up the inside of Spencer’s thigh. He licked a stripe up the length of Spencer’s cock, swallowing around the head as Spencer sobbed and arched. Brendon pulled off and started jacking Spencer in earnest, bracing himself on one elbow so he could look up at Spencer’s face, flushed and damp and his swollen bottom lip caught between his teeth, chin titled up and eyes half closed.
“Fuck, Bren,” he cried out as came in spurts across his belly.
“So good, Spence,” Brendon crooned, shimmying up until he could claim Spencer’s mouth in a kiss. Spencer murmured wordlessly into the kiss, limbs heavy and relaxed on the bed. Brendon held still until his breathing had evened out before making his way to the en suite bathroom. He ditched the condom and splashed some water on his face, running warmer water over a facecloth from the shelf. When he walked back into the bedroom Spencer was still splayed across the covers, sweaty and exhausted. Brendon dabbed the cloth against Spencer’s temples before swiping it across his belly, smiling when Spencer hummed happily.
“Shoes off,” Spencer said, stretching his legs out until his feet hung over the edge of the bed. Brendon reached down and slid them off, letting them drop onto his discarded clothes with a thump. “God,” Spencer flexed his feet under Brendon’s palms.
“Better?” Brendon asked, tugging at the blankets until he could pull them up over Spencer’s tired limbs.
“Yeah,” Spencer turned and curled up around Brendon’s side. “That was hard. How the fuck do people walk around in those all day?”
“I guess you get used to it,” Brendon said, trying to keep any disappointment out of his voice. He was still trying to process what they’d just done, but he knew it was the hottest thing he’d ever experienced, probably would ever experience. He felt like he might get hard again already just thinking about it.
“I’m gonna have to practice,” Spencer said around a yawn. “Kind of a mood killer if I’m worried about falling down all the time.”
“Oh?” Brendon said.
“Yeah. Maybe wear them around the apartment,” Spencer hesitated, “Maybe I should get a pair with a smaller heel for practicing.”
“I wasn’t sure if you’d want to do it again,” Brendon said.
“Dumbass,” Spencer snorted. “That was hot. We’re definitely doing it again.”
THE END!
Oh, and, for the curious: Spencer's shoes
eledhwenlin's amazing KinkFest and then I came home and wrote another 2000 words and kink actually happened. But there is no ending! I got to a point where I knew it had to stop but I wasn't sure how and so I literally just wrote THE END. So, you know. Keep that in mind. Also, this has not been beta'd, so keep that in mind because if random typos and tense shifts are dealbreakers for you this is information you need.
Written for
roebling's prompt: Brendon wants nothing more than to see highschool! or early Panic! Spencer in a pair of high heels. Spencer's willing to try, but once he's got the shoes on his feet and he's wobbling around he's sure he just looks like a huge fool. Brendon convinces him otherwise.
Brendon/Spencer | NC-17 | Warnings: Characters perform safe sex and unsafe sex, because kids still think that blowjobs don't count | 5000 words
Brendon didn’t remember how it started.
No, that’s a lie. He remembered the exact moment the idea popped into his head. He’d been watching as Spencer goofed around backstage with the dancers, laughing as Katie tugged on his hips and twirled him around in mimicry of the act she performed on stage. Spencer had been uncharacteristically willing to go along with the joke, eyes bright and cheeks flushed as he danced around the room in bare feet, deftly moving aside when one of Katie’s heels came too close to his toes. Spencer had looked so good, twirled and then clutched close to Katie, taller in her heels. Heels, Brendon had thought, Spence should be wearing heels. Just a random image, another fantasy to cycle through when Brendon was stuck in his bunk without access to Spencer’s pale skin, jerking off furtively before someone interrupted.
But Brendon didn’t remember when it grew from an occasional fantasy into a full blown obsession, when he started looking at high heels online and imagining which one would look best on Spencer’s foot. Brendon was not good at keeping secrets, and it felt weird not to share this with Spencer. They were always honest with each other, had been since before their first sloppy kiss in Maryland, and hiding this part of himself felt uncomfortably close to lying. It wasn’t like the time Brendon had asked Spencer to spank him, which had been hot as fuck, because Brendon didn’t even want Spencer to do anything crazy. He didn’t want Spencer to wear a dress, he wasn’t even sure what Spencer should wear with the heels, and he didn’t want Spencer to dance for him. He just wanted to watch. It was weird. Brendon felt really weird.
Spencer had probably noticed that something was up, he was pretty good at reading Brendon’s moods, but he seemed to be waiting for Brendon to open the topic for discussion. Of course, just as Brendon wasn’t really known for being subtle, Spencer was not known for being patient, so it shouldn’t have been so surprising when the next hotel night rolled around Spencer put a plan into action. Before the door had even closed behind them, Spencer had his duffle open on the farthest bed and Brendon knew he wasn’t looking for the lube and condoms.
“I’m going to shower,” Spencer said, with tone did not suggest an invite to join him. Brendon dropped down on the opposite bed with a sigh, but Spencer seemed impervious to his distress. “You should find a movie for us to watch or something,” he said, confirming Brendon’s suspicions that there would be no activities involving dicks at all. Which was a travesty, but Brendon was wise to Spencer’s ways. This was an obvious ploy to orchestrate some ‘talking time’ and if Brendon tried to divert from the plan Spencer would just ask outright. At this point, desperate as he was, Brendon would still rather just cuddle in sexual frustration.
“Will do, captain,” Brendon gave a jaunty salute, pleased with Spencer obviously couldn’t stifle a grin, even as he rolled his eyes.
“Whatever, dork,” he said, sweeping his palm across the crown of Brendon’s head as he passed by with a change of clothes and toiletries clutched awkwardly in the crook of his elbow.
Brendon had the TV on before Spencer reached the bathroom. Spencer was going to be naked, and wet, very soon and if he didn’t have a distraction something embarrassing would probably happen. Brendon crossed to the other bed long enough to grab all the pillows, he and Spencer would be sharing and Brendon loved surrounding himself with fluffy hotel pillows. Once settled in his pillow fortress he sniffed under his arm as he flipped through the channels, but the quick wash down and outfit change at the venue had done the trick. Mostly. Whatever, Spencer probably wasn’t going to be getting close enough to smell him anyway.
“There is nothing on TV,” Brendon said to himself. The cardboard sign on the entertainment hutch read WE HAVE DELUXE CABLE!, but deluxe seemed to mean an assortment of news programs and the Vision network and a channel dedicated to musicals, the latter Brendon eventually settles on. Spencer wouldn’t approve, but he just didn’t understand the epic nature of Curly and Laurey’s romance.
“Ugh, Brendon, Oklahoma?” Spencer was at the foot of the bed, hip cocked and dressed in soft pajama pants and the pink t-shirt that made Brendon want to bite his belly.
“There’s nothing else on,” Brendon said, making a point of looking past Spencer at the television.
“I hate this movie,” Spencer announced, as though there were any doubt. He tossed his dirty clothes back in his duffle and pulled out the book that Ryan had nagged him into reading. Brendon kept his eye on Spencer as he crawled onto the bed alongside him, Spencer was a known pillow thief and Brendon was comfortably settled against the headboard. But Spencer sat facing Brendon, collapsing into the pillows fanned across the top of the bed and curling up with his feet in Brendon’s lap as he opened the paperback.
“What,” Brendon huffed, pulse racing. His left hand was under the curve of Spencer’s ankle and he jerked it free.
“If I face the TV I’ll get distracted,” Spencer said, brows furrowed, already trying to find his place on the page. “And I just showered, dude. My feet don’t stink.”
“So you say,” Brendon said, trying to think of another reason why this arrangement was unacceptable. A reason besides the real one.
“And the dream sequence part really freaks me out, it’s so rapey,” Spencer snuggled further into the pillows, his feet arching a little as he shifted.
“My mom didn’t care for that part either, what with the magic potion business,” Brendon said, and as horrifying as it is to think of his mother right now, when he feels like his skin might explode, it also helps. “Actually, there was a lot about this musical that my mom didn’t like.”
“What parent doesn’t love a musical about murder, sex and cheating?” Spencer murmured, not lifting his eyes from the book. Brendon chuckled and started relaxing despite himself. By the time they got to the dream sequence, and whoa, Spencer was so right, it was downright creepy, Spencer’s eyelids had started to droop and Brendon didn’t think he’d turned a page in a few minutes. His hands felt awkward at his sides, so Brendon risked dropping his left hand in his lap, casually, and then cupping Spencer’s ankle.
“I’m awake,” Spencer said, rousing himself a little and visibly refocusing on the words in front of him.
“Yeah, I bet,” Brendon said, stroking his thumb against the arch of Spencer’s foot. He can feel his cheeks flush, but he doesn’t want to stop. The skin there is so thin and soft and pale. He imagined the strap of a black heel crossing Spencer’s ankle, imagined how it would feel under his fingertips, to go from skin to strap.
“That feels nice,” Spencer sighed, toes curling into Brendon’s thigh.
“Yeah,” Brendon could barely get the word out, his throat was so tight. Spencer’s eyes had closed, but they open now.
“Are you,” he stopped, and Brendon followed his gaze to his lap, where his hand hadn’t stopped moving, where his dick was hard and visible through the line of his pants.
“Um…”
“I knew they didn’t stink,” Spencer said, no longer on the verge of sleep but still a little dazed. Brendon spared a moment to be grateful that his boyfriend was such a weirdo that it wouldn’t occur to him to freak out first. “Is this what you’ve been worrying about? Do you have a …” Spencer furrowed his brow, “A foot fetish?”
“Maybe,” Brendon took a breath and made his hand still, tried to force his erection down with the power of his mind. His dick, obstinate as always, did not want to get with the program. “I don’t know. It’s weird.”
“Just tell me,” Spencer said, reaching out to touch Brendon’s elbow. It felt anchoring, Spencer wasn’t pulling away, he wasn’t freaked out, but Brendon still couldn’t get the words out.
“I don’t know how to explain it,” Brendon said. On the television, Curly was selling everyone he owned so he could be with Laurey. Brendon would list all his guitars on eBay this second if it meant Spencer wouldn’t leave. He was so focused on not making eye contact that he almost fell off the bed when Spencer moved to straddle him, unzipping his pants and licking a stripe across his palm before sliding a hand into his boxers.
“Tell me what you think about when you’re doing this,” Spencer’s lips moved against the shell of Brendon’s ear as he started stroking his cock, slow and purposeful.
“Spence,” Brendon squirmed and gasped and clutched Spencer’s hips desperately. Spencer nipped at the curve of his neck, but didn’t pull back to make eye contact.
“Tell me, Bren, it’s okay.” Spencer said. “It’s my feet, right?”
“Yeah, but,” Brendon bucked up into Spencer’s fist, mouth dropping open on a moan. “In heels, I think about you wearing high heels.”
“Like, in a dress?” Spencer’s hand faltered for a moment and Brendon shook his head quickly.
“No, just, just you, in heels,” he whimpered when Spencer’s rhythm started again, faster this time. “I saw you dancing with Katie,” he said, and Spencer twisted his wrist, dirty cheater that he was, and Brendon came over his belly and Spencer’s hand. “Fuck,” Brendon tried to take a breath, but his heart felt like it was going to burst right out of his chest. He’d be embarrassed by how fast he’d come, but right now there were bigger problems. Spencer was still draped across his lap, half hard against his hip, but he hadn’t lifted his hand from Brendon’s shoulder yet and Brendon knew he was probably holding onto him tight enough to bruise. “Is it too messed up?”
“No, B, it’s not messed up,” Spencer nuzzled close. “I want to try it,”
“You do?” Brendon knows he sounds skeptical, but he can’t help it. Every time he had imagined this conversation the best case scenario had been Spencer not breaking up with him.
“Yeah,” Spencer sat back, just far enough that he could meet Brendon’s gaze. “Dude, you just came in, like, five seconds. Anything that gets you that turned on sounds hot to me.”
“Oh, gee, when you put it that way,” Brendon sniffed, a little embarrassed but mostly… happy.
“You know what I mean. You’re really into it, I like that. I want to try it.” Spencer licked his lips and smiled a little. “Just don’t laugh when I fall on my face.”
“I wouldn’t let you fall,” Brendon said, and that felt a little corny, but a faint blush crept across Spencer’s cheekbones. Brendon shifted a little, and became acutely aware that his dick was hanging out of his pants and he was a little messy, not to mention he hadn’t exactly reciprocated. “Do you want me to, uh,” he gestured, probably crudely, at Spencer’s crotch.
“How romantic,” Spencer snorted, and then moved back off Brendon’s lap. “Naw, I’m tired. And I want to cuddle.”
After a quick clean up and a new pair of boxers for Brendon, they crawled back into bed and Brendon rolled onto his back and tugged Spencer close. Spencer settled with his cheek to Brendon’s chest, and sighed happily when Brendon started scratching his fingers against his scalp.
“I should figure out what my size in lady shoes is,” Spencer yawned.
“Yeah?” Brendon said, not daring to continue.
“Yeah. So you know what size to get,” Spencer’s words were slow and just a little slurred, he was obviously half asleep, and Brendon felt only slightly guilty when he tugged a handful of hair just a little too hard, enough to keep Spencer awake. “Ow,” he whined.
“You want me to pick them out?” Brendon asked. “You don’t mind?”
“It’s for you, Bren. You should pick them out.” Spencer said. “Just, no snakeskin.”
Brendon laughed, and pressed a lingering kiss to Spencer’s temple. “No snakeskin,” he agreed, and let Spencer fall asleep.
***
Brendon had thought that finding heels big enough for Spencer would be harder, imagined himself trawling fetish websites that specialized in Lucite platforms, but he quickly realized that not all women wore a size six shoe and that Spencer’s feet were not that big. He spent an increasing amount of time huddled in his bunk with his laptop after everyone had gone to sleep, looking at the heels, knowing that he could buy them for Spencer, made him feel an exhaustive mixture of excitement, desperation and anxiety. Spencer said it wasn’t too weird, didn’t creep him out, but maybe he’d feel differently when he was wearing the actual shoes. Brendon tried not to think about that possibility too much. When he finally found the pair he wanted he didn’t feel the euphoria he’d expected, not when he clicked buy, not when the delivery was confirmed to his apartment in Vegas, not when the last days of the tour clicked by. He was anxious, mostly a low level worry that kept a constant beat in the back of his mind. Spencer tried to help, but reminding Brendon of what a great boyfriend he was, how much Brendon had to lose, only made it worse.
By the time they finally got home to Vegas Brendon had almost forgotten that the package, along with the rest of his mail, would be waiting at the concierge desk of his apartment building. He juggled the detritus of his mailbox along with his duffle, and even though he could have used the extra hands he was a little glad that Spencer had gone to his parents’ house for the night. Brendon wasn’t sure he could have opened the box with Spencer at his shoulder.
The shoes were perfect, black and simple with a small zipper at the back that sent a thrill through Brendon every time he looked at them. Though the straps weren’t thin and delicate, rather two bands that crossed at the front of the ankle, Brendon found he preferred them. They would look stunning, plus less likely to irritate delicate skin and more likely to keep the shoe on Spencer’s foot. Brendon had tried to choose something a little easier for a beginner, it had occurred to him that the actual worst case scenario now was that Spencer toppled to the floor and broke a limb, but once he’d seen them he hadn’t been able to resist. Spencer wouldn’t even have to walk in them at first, and Brendon would make sure to keep him close. He meant to keep his promise, he wouldn’t let Spencer fall.
By the time Spencer had come over, and essentially moved in as was his habit off tour, Brendon had hidden the shoes at the back of his closet. He needed the right moment to show them to Spencer, he needed a plan. But a plan failed to pop into his head, fully formed, and Brendon knew that Spencer was probably wondering when, and he knew that the longer he waited the more he would get stuck in his own head and he was tired of waiting.
They’d gone to dinner with Spencer’s sisters, who had insisted on dressing up, and Spencer was still in that ‘just home’ space where he was happy to indulge them. Spencer and Brendon had worn dress shirts and slacks and the girls had been giddy in their dresses. Now Spencer was stretched out on the bed, and wearing only his boxer briefs and his white dress shirt half unbuttoned as he watched Conan. Brendon was hanging his coat up in the closet, listening to the sounds of the television and Spencer’s commentary as he lingered between his shirts, fingertips on the shoebox. He wanted this, Spencer wanted it, too.
“This guy sucks,” Spencer opined. “What is he even saying, oh my God. His method?”
“Spence,” Brendon winced at the way his voice cracked, and cleared his throat. Spencer’s focus was on him now, the actor on TV forgotten. He pushed himself up into a sitting position and reached for the remote, Conan’s cackling laugh cut off abruptly. Brendon felt like an idiot, standing at the foot of the bed with a shoebox in his sweaty hands.
“Are those mine?” Spencer asked, a little coy, and Brendon released a breath, smiled a little.
“Yeah, they’re yours,” he said, reaching over to set them on the mattress. Spencer shifted closer, knees bent and sitting back on his heels as he took the cover off the box, his gaze shifting between Brendon’s face and the shoes. He was quiet as he pulled the shoes out of the tissue paper lined box, fingertips stroking the suede toe. “Do you like them?” Brendon asked when he couldn’t take the silence anymore. Spencer looked up, his lips parted and there was something close to awe on his face.
“Yeah,” he said. “They’re beautiful.” Spencer was holding one shoe in his lap, examining it.
“Can I put them on you?” Brendon asked, unable to take a breath until Spencer nodded. He pulled the box to the side and moved back as Spencer scooted forward, until he was sitting at the end of the bed with his feet on the floor.
“Should I, I don’t know, put some pants on?” Spencer’s brow was furrowed and Brendon couldn’t resist leaning in for a kiss.
“No,” Brendon said, “You’re perfect.” He knelt down, stroking Spencer’s calf as he placed both shoes beside him. He looked up to find Spencer watching him, gaze dark and serious. “You sure you want to do this?”
“Yes,” Spencer said, his fingers curling into the blankets. Brendon learned forward and kissed the inside of Spencer’s knee, smirking a little at the way Spencer shuddered under his touch. He could do this, they could do this. He slid his hand down to Spencer’s ankle and pulled his foot into his lap. The arch of the shoe was pretty extreme so Brendon knew that it wasn’t going to slide on like Cinderella’s glass slipper, and he laughed along with Spencer as they struggled to get first one shoe on and then the second. His laughter fell away as he straightened the bands along the top of Spencer’s foot, and Spencer was quiet, too. Brendon felt like his ribs were going to blow out, like there was something inside him he couldn’t contain.
“Spence,” Brendon murmured. He let his fingertips slide from Spencer knees to ankles, then over the tops of his feet then down to cup the soles of the shoes. Brendon stood, almost tripping over his own feet in his haste, and he makes himself slow down. He was supposed to be keeping Spencer steady, not spazzing out across the bedroom. He took Spencer’s hands and half pulled, half just assisted as Spencer stood on the heels.
“Holy shit,” Spencer gasped as he almost overbalanced, one ankle wobbling precariously.
“Take a breath, you’re fine,” Brendon said, and he wasn’t even sure where the sense of calm is coming from, but he felt totally in control. Spencer was absurdly tall in the heels, his arms dangling over Brendon’s shoulders as he steadied himself.
“Well, I’m not leaving the bedroom in these,” Spencer said finally, already a little out of breath.
“No, we should probably work up to that,” Brendon agreed. He smoothed a hand down Spencer’s back and waited until the tension was gone from his frame before moving a step back. From head to toe, Spencer looked amazing. Standing with one hip cocked he was a study of fluid lines and curves, chin tucked down so that his hair hung in front of his eyes. The undone buttons of his shirt showed tantalizing hints of shoulder, collarbone and belly.
Yeah, this wasn’t going to last long.
“How do they feel?” Brendon asked, taking another step back. Spencer whimpered and reached out for Brendon’s wrists but Brendon ducked away before he could touch. “You can sit back down if you feel like you’re gonna fall, I want to look at you.”
“Bren,” Spencer shifted his weight from foot to foot, and Brendon could see that moment that he found his balance, watched as his stance became languid and soft. “Do you like them?”
“Baby, I love them,” Brendon leered, waggled his eyebrows and was rewarded with a huff of laughter and a familiar smirk. “Do you like them?”
“Yeah,” Spencer said, after a moment’s pause. “I really do,” he sounded surprised, and Brendon felt relief sluice through him. As amazing as this was, Brendon didn’t want it if Spencer was only humoring him.
Brendon backed up until he was at the armchair by the window. The decorator he’d hired had insisted that he would use a chair in the bedroom, until now it had just been another place to toss his clothes. He didn’t think that she’d had this in mind, but he was grateful for her insistence now. He sat and crooked his finger.
“C’mere,” he said. Spencer bit his lip and shifted a little, and Brendon’s mouth went dry. With his fingers curled up in his shirtcuffs and long, lean legs, Spencer looked like pure sex. Brendon couldn’t wait to get his hands on that pale skin, but he wasn’t going to leave the chair. Spencer’s steps were small and halting but the sway to his hips and the flex of his calf muscles was so fucking graceful. It seemed to take an hour for Spencer to cross the ten feet of hardwood between them, as soon as he was within reach Brendon grabbed onto his hips and guided him down into his lap. Spencer collapsed gratefully, and Brendon could feel a slight tremble in his limbs.
“That probably looked ridiculous,” Spencer said, and Brendon could feel the heat of his cheeks.
“No, it looked amazing,” Brendon said, and he met Spencer’s doubtful stare head on. He reached up to cup the curve of Spencer’s jaw. “You’re so beautiful,” he murmured. Spencer leaned in and kissed Brendon hard, with lips and teeth and tongue and rolled his hips forward so he was settled in Brendon’s lap.
“Fuck, you say these things, these stupid things,” Spencer gasped between kisses, gripping a handful of Brendon’s hair to keep him positioned as he wanted.
“You’re stupid if you don’t think I’m right,” Brendon countered, touching every inch of Spencer that he could. He could feel his cock throbbing, sensations building as Spencer pushed closer. “I’m not going to come in my pants,” he said as he pushed Spencer back.
“Oh yeah?” Spencer grinned and Brendon kept pushing until they were both struggling to their feet. “Do not let me fall,” Spencer warned as he stumbled back a step.
“You worry too much,” Brendon kept a hand on his elbow, just in case.
“So if you don’t want to come in your pants...” Spencer arched an eyebrow in question.
“I want to fuck you,” Brendon said, and his cock twitched when Spencer let his mouth fall open and licked his bottom lip.
“Yeah, that works for me. Does that mean I can stop standing?” Spencer smiled, just enough to show that he was teasing, which was a relief, because Brendon had no intention of letting him off so easily.
“No,” Brendon put his hands on Spencer’s hips and guided him backwards in careful, measured steps. “I want you to face the bed, and bend over.” Spencer shivered under his palms but his eyes were dark and lidded. Brendon could see his erection straining in his boxer briefs and cupped his hand around Spencer’s dick just long enough to make him moan. “Bend over,” he whispered, and Spencer turned around and complied, bending at the waist until his fingers were clutching the mattress edge. The frame was high enough that even with the added inches Spencer wasn’t bent at too much an angle.
Brendon’s hands found Spencer’s hips again, and he pressed forward until he was grinding Spencer’s ass, moving experimentally to see just how steady Spencer would be on his feet.
“Fuck, Bren,” Spencer whimpered. “More, come on,”
“Yeah,” Brendon stepped back and chuckled low when Spencer whined. “I doubt you want me fucking you without lube and a condom, dude.”
“Just hurry up, jackass,” Spencer pressed his forehead into the mattress and arched his back, Brendon was so busy watching him that he barely avoided walking straight into the nightstand.
There was a visible tremble in Spencer’s thighs and all the muscles in his legs seemed to be straining and pulled taut. Brendon’s hands shook as he fumbled in the drawer. He didn’t waste any time crossing the room again. He dropped the supplies on the comforter next to Spencer’s head and ignored his cursing, focusing instead on pulling Spencer’s underwear down. He crouched down next to his feet, cupping the back of his calf as Spencer lifted one foot and then the other, stepping clear of the material. Brendon nuzzled the back of one knee, and laughed when Spencer’s leg almost buckled.
“Sorry, sorry,” he said, and pressed an apologetic kisses against the skin, and then kept kissing his way up until he was nipping the curve of Spencer’s ass. “Spread your legs,” Brendon said once he was standing again, one hand flat on the small of Spencer’s back. Again, Spencer lifted one foot carefully, bracing himself as wide as he could without his ankles giving out. If the apartment had caught fire around them, Brendon wouldn’t have been able to look away.
“Bren,” Spencer said, “Fuck me.”
“I’ve got you,” Brendon said, pushing his own pants down. He squeezed a generous amount of lube onto his fingertips and started hard and fast with one finger, Spencer always preferred rough over slow and easy. He made sure to take his time after that, Brendon was always wary of hurting Spencer at this point, when they were both worked up and desperate and it wouldn’t be later until the pain set in. Spencer whined and cursed and begged, but Brendon spent long minutes stretching him and teasing at this prostate. Spencer’s legs were shaking hard now and the dress shirt was damp and clung to the breadth of his shoulders. “Ready?”
“Fuck,” Spencer moaned, “I’ve been ready.”
Brendon slid the condom on and with a quick swipe of lube pressed in close until he was nudging up against Spencer’s hole. He held still for a moment longer, but he didn’t have the patience to tease and thrust forward, his cries matching Spencer’s as he bottomed out. Spencer was tight and hot around him and Brendon could already feel his orgasm building. There was no way he could risk loosening his grip on Spencer’s waist to reach around and jerk him off, Spencer kept his hands gripping the mattress for the same reason, but it wasn’t long before Brendon’s thrusts lost their rhythm and he came with a shout.
“Up, up,” Brendon basically had to lift Spencer’s legs as he crawled up onto the bed, and guided him over until he was on his back, legs splayed and cock flushed and leaking against his belly. The stiletto heels tugged and pulled at the sheets as Spencer’s legs shifted restlessly. “I got you,” Brendon said, leaving messy, open mouthed kisses up the inside of Spencer’s thigh. He licked a stripe up the length of Spencer’s cock, swallowing around the head as Spencer sobbed and arched. Brendon pulled off and started jacking Spencer in earnest, bracing himself on one elbow so he could look up at Spencer’s face, flushed and damp and his swollen bottom lip caught between his teeth, chin titled up and eyes half closed.
“Fuck, Bren,” he cried out as came in spurts across his belly.
“So good, Spence,” Brendon crooned, shimmying up until he could claim Spencer’s mouth in a kiss. Spencer murmured wordlessly into the kiss, limbs heavy and relaxed on the bed. Brendon held still until his breathing had evened out before making his way to the en suite bathroom. He ditched the condom and splashed some water on his face, running warmer water over a facecloth from the shelf. When he walked back into the bedroom Spencer was still splayed across the covers, sweaty and exhausted. Brendon dabbed the cloth against Spencer’s temples before swiping it across his belly, smiling when Spencer hummed happily.
“Shoes off,” Spencer said, stretching his legs out until his feet hung over the edge of the bed. Brendon reached down and slid them off, letting them drop onto his discarded clothes with a thump. “God,” Spencer flexed his feet under Brendon’s palms.
“Better?” Brendon asked, tugging at the blankets until he could pull them up over Spencer’s tired limbs.
“Yeah,” Spencer turned and curled up around Brendon’s side. “That was hard. How the fuck do people walk around in those all day?”
“I guess you get used to it,” Brendon said, trying to keep any disappointment out of his voice. He was still trying to process what they’d just done, but he knew it was the hottest thing he’d ever experienced, probably would ever experience. He felt like he might get hard again already just thinking about it.
“I’m gonna have to practice,” Spencer said around a yawn. “Kind of a mood killer if I’m worried about falling down all the time.”
“Oh?” Brendon said.
“Yeah. Maybe wear them around the apartment,” Spencer hesitated, “Maybe I should get a pair with a smaller heel for practicing.”
“I wasn’t sure if you’d want to do it again,” Brendon said.
“Dumbass,” Spencer snorted. “That was hot. We’re definitely doing it again.”
THE END!
Oh, and, for the curious: Spencer's shoes