fic - the deepest secret nobody knows
the deepest secret nobody knows // jon/brendon // nc-17 // 2,400 words
Warnings: This isn't happy. If you're looking for fluff you should probably skip this one.
Notes: For playfullips on her birthday. I wish this could have been some other kind of fic, but angst is what you're getting. I love you, bb. Things are a looking up. I swear it. ♥ Thanks to ericaplease for looking at this for me.
They decide on a hotel because they both want to meet on neutral ground after having too many fights in places they used to feel welcome. Brendon thinks part of the magic of being loved by someone is that you feel like you belong where they belong. Now it feels like the only place they can come together is somewhere that doesn't belong to either of them.
Brendon steps into the room quietly. Jon is already there, sitting on the bed with his hands folded neatly in his lap. He looks up when Brendon steps through the door and they stare at one another, soaking each other up after being apart for over a month.
There are so many things Brendon wants to say. A million words have lodged themselves in Brendon's throat until it feels like he can't move air past them. His chest hurts, but he's not sure if saying any of those words will make it hurt more or less.
Jon surges off the bed, closing the distance between them. He touches Brendon's face, just his finger tips against the line of Brendon's jaw. The touch is tentative, like Jon's not sure he has the right to do it. Brendon's not sure he does either, not anymore, but he's missed this. He's missed Jon.
Brendon leans in to the touch, tipping his face to the side until Jon moves his other hand up to cup Brendon's face. Jon kisses him, and it feels like Brendon is being pulled apart from the inside out. Everything hurts, and the pain has Brendon wanting to hurt Jon, too. He bites viciously into Jon's bottom lip, making Jon hiss and pull back. Their breaths are loud against the quiet hum of the air conditioning. Brendon pushes Jon back toward the bed. He knows this isn't going to fix anything -- having sex isn't going to magically make everything better -- but Brendon doesn't think things can get any worse between them.
Brendon has always sucked at goodbyes.
"I want you to fuck me," Brendon says. Those are the first words he's spoken to Jon in more than a month, and some bitter part of Brendon's brain thinks, He already did.
Jon kisses him again. The kiss has an ugly edge to it, as if they've both decided that if they're not going to say what they're feeling they'll use their mouths to hurt each other in other ways. Brendon kisses back just as hard. He pulls on the ends of Jon's hair until Jon rips his mouth away from Brendon's and steps back. Brendon pulls his t-shirt over his head and lets it drop to the floor. The room is cold, making Brendon's skin break out in gooseflesh. His nipples make hard points against his chest. Jon follows his lead, both of them methodically removing their clothes until they're standing by the bed, naked and shivering.
Jon says, "Come here." His voice sounds wrong, like rusted hinges on a door being opened after years of neglect. Brendon wonders if the reason he hasn't heard from Jon for more than a month is because Jon's only just remembered how to speak.
Brendon goes to Jon. He presses his chest against Jon's chest and kisses his throat. The skin there is warm against Brendon's lips. He drags his mouth up Jon's neck, letting the stubble there rub abrasively against his lips. It hurts, and Brendon's glad. It should hurt. There's no reason for this to be any less painful than everything else.
"Come on," Brendon mouths against Jon's skin.
Jon puts his hands on Brendon's hips and turns them, pushing Brendon down onto the bed. Jon leans over him, pulling and manhandling Brendon until he's sprawled out in the center of the mattress, legs spread and chest heaving. Jon settles between Brendon's thighs, weighing him down, anchoring him to the bed with his hips, but Brendon doesn't feel trapped. He feels safe. He clings to that feeling, even if a part of him knows it's a lie.
Brendon is still only half-hard, but the feeling of Jon's cock rub against his does a lot to get Brendon there the rest of the way. Jon leans down, and Brendon surges up, their mouths meeting each other somewhere in the middle.
They kiss wet and desperate. Brendon wraps his arms around Jon, splaying his hands across the smooth skin of Jon's back. Jon's warm. His muscles tremble under his skin, making Brendon want to rub soothing circles across his back before he thinks better of it.
This is how it's always been with them; a give and take that Brendon never felt was one-sided until it was. Brendon thinks that's what hurts the most -- not that Jon is gone, but that maybe he was never really there the way Brendon thought he was.
Jon holds himself up, his arms bunching and knotting under the strain of his own weight, and Brendon's hands move up over Jon's shoulders and down his arms. He holds on. He tries to lose himself in Jon's skin and Jon's mouth and Jon's cock lying hard against his own. He tries to focus on the physical, because he can't stop focusing on everything else.
Jon scoots back and off the bed just long enough to dig in his pants for his wallet. He pulls a condom out of the billfold and throws it on the bed next to Brendon's hip. Brendon closes his eyes and takes a deep breath, letting it out as Jon settles over him again. Jon rolls his hips and Brendon gasps, grasping Jon's shoulders and digging his fingers into Jon's skin.
Jon puts the tips of two fingers against Brendon's lips and says, "Suck."
Brendon wants to say something bitter. He wants to open his mouth and hurt Jon, until he's sure Jon feels as badly as he does. Instead, he takes Jon's fingers into his mouth and laves his tongue over Jon's fingertips, catching on the callouses there. The rough skin reminds Brendon that Jon is still making music, hardening the pads of his fingers on his instruments in some place that Brendon will never hear him play.
Brendon sucks harder. Jon leans in and licks at the corner of Brendon's mouth, parting Brendon's lips and kissing him off-center and sloppy with his fingers still pressed against Brendon's tongue. Then he pulls away and sits up on his knees between Brendon's legs, sliding his fingers out of Brendon's mouth and moving his hand between Brendon's thighs.
Brendon takes a deep breath as Jon pushes his index finger inside. It's not easy. Brendon wishes he'd brought lube, but he honestly didn't think they were going to be doing this. He probably should have, given their history. He and Jon have always been better at communicating through looks and touches rather than through actual words.
Brendon bears down, lifting his hips to give Jon better access. Jon gets his finger in to the second knuckle and then works it back out again. He pushes back in with two fingers and Brendon sucks in a breath loudly through his nose, hissing as he lets it out. Jon leans over and bites Brendon's thigh gently, distracting him from the pain.
"Just do it," Brendon says, twisting his fingers in the sheets. "I don't care if it hurts. I want it to."
Jon ignores him, easing his fingers in slowly and gently. He licks the crease of Brendon's thigh, breathing heavily over his cock before he mouths gently at the head. Brendon bucks his hips and moans as Jon's fingers sink in even further.
"Tell me again," Jon says.
Brendon can feel Jon's breath hot against his cock. The feeling is distracting enough that it takes Brendon a moment to figure out that Jon's actually said something.
"What?" Brendon asks, pushing his hips up to move his cock closer to Jon's mouth.
"Tell me what you want," Jon answers.
Part of Brendon wants to tell Jon to go fuck himself. Part of him wants to climb off the bed, put his clothes back on, leave and never look back. But leaving wouldn't solve anything anymore than letting Jon fuck him is going to. Everything hurts. Brendon's just so tired and he wants to stop hurting, even if it's only long enough to get off.
Brendon bites his lip and turns his face away from Jon. He says, "I want you to fuck me."
Jon says, "Open the condom," right before he licks at Brendon's cock again.
There's no real relief in having Jon's mouth on his cock. Jon's being careful, barely mouthing along the shaft before licking the head over and over again. The teasing is driving Brendon crazy. He wants Jon to either suck him off or fuck him. He wants Jon to be here with him like he used to be. He feels like Jon is halfway out the door already, and he really, really wants Jon to be here with him, even if it's only for this one moment.
Brendon reaches for the condom and tears it open, hands shaking as he rips the foil. "Jon," he says.
Jon sits up and reaches for the condom. He pulls his fingers free, wiping them across the sheet before he rolls the condom on. He doesn't say anything. He doesn't look at Brendon's face as he lifts him up by his hips. He hooks one of Brendon's legs over his shoulder and pushes the other one up and out, splaying his hand across Brendon's inner thigh to hold his legs open.
Jon's other hand goes to his cock and he uses it to guide himself in, nudging his hips forward, sinking in slow and steady until he's fully inside Brendon.
Brendon lets out a slow breath and watches Jon's face. Jon's eyes are closed, his nostrils flaring out. He looks like he's trying to control himself, and Brendon doesn't want that. Brendon's so tired of the two of them circling each other. Brendon's sick of being cautious.
"No," Brendon pants. "Don't be like that. Just... Please. I want you to fuck me."
Jon's eyes snap open, raking over Brendon's face. Jon takes a deep breath and hooks Brendon's other leg over his shoulder. He pulls out and snaps his hips forward again, thrusting hard enough that his body weight practically folds Brendon in half.
Jon keeps changing the speed of his thrusts -- hard and fast and then slow, rolling his hips and looking at Brendon's face for his every reaction. Brendon would like nothing more than to withhold any kind of satisfaction, but he can't stop the noises he makes. He grunts every time Jon pushes in.
Jon's belly brushes along Brendon's cock teasingly. Their bodies aren't pressed close enough to get any kind of real friction going, and Brendon feels fevered with the need to come. He reaches between them, intent on jacking himself off.
Jon shakes his head and says, "No. Just like this."
He reaches for Brendon's wrists, stretching them out over Brendon's head and pinning them to the mattress. Jon leans in and kisses Brendon gently, even as his thrusts get harder and faster until Brendon feels nothing but heat low in his belly.
Jon says, "I missed you."
He says it like it's something he used to do. He says it like he doesn't know that when this is over they'll both be walking out the door and heading in opposite directions. He says it like they've both found what they were looking for, even if they know it won't last.
It snaps whatever thin hold Brendon has had on his emotions. He says, "I hate you."
Jon's face changes. His eyes get a far away look, gleaming a little along the edges like he's trying not to cry. He kisses Brendon and when he pulls back Brendon continues saying, "I hate you. I hate you. I hate you. I hate you," over and over again.
Jon shakes his head, denying it even as Brendon continues to say it. His thrusts get harder and sloppier, like he's trying to hurt Brendon as badly as Brendon's hurting him.
"No," Jon says.
Brendon turns his head away toward the wall, his eyes watering against his will. He doesn't have any idea how they're keeping any kind of rhythm anymore. Brendon's been on the edge for a while now, but he doesn't have any desire to fall off of it. He wants to stay here, touching Jon. He wants a lot of things he can't have anymore. Brendon keeps his face turned away and says, "Yes I do."
Brendon closes his eyes and wishes it was true.
Jon lets go of Brendon's wrists and grabs his chin, turning Brendon's face so he's looking at Jon.
"Well, I love you," Jon says desperately.
Brendon wants to deny it, but he can't. All he has to do is look at Jon's face to know he's telling the truth. Jon loves him. Jon loves him, and it still doesn't fix anything. It still doesn't make anything better.
"I love you," Jon says again, and it makes Brendon's stomach flip and twist. Jon reaches between them and squeeze Brendon's cock, running his thumb just below the head. Brendon's eyes widen in surprise when that's all it takes to have him coming so hard he looses the feeling in his toes.
Jon groans and says, "I love you," again and again, punctuating each word with a thrust of his hips until he buries his face in Brendon's neck and comes.
Brendon pushes at Jon's shoulder until Jon rolls over, taking Brendon with him. Brendon's chest still hurts, the pain coming back sharper now that the feeling of his orgasm is fading. He tucks his head against Jon's shoulder and breathes.
"You left," Brendon says softly.
Jon breathes in and out, his hand trailing up Brendon's back to his neck. He twists his fingers in Brendon's hair.
"I didn't leave you," Jon says. "It doesn't have to be one or the other."
Brendon isn't so sure. He doesn't know how to separate what they were from what they are. He doesn't know how to stop letting it hurt him.
"I missed you, too," Brendon says.
Jon sighs and pulls Brendon closer, burying his face in Brendon's hair. "What now?" he asks.
Brendon feels tired, but for the first time in a month he doesn't feel alone. "I want you to stay," he says. "I want you to be here when I wake up. Just... say you'll stay."
Jon tips Brendon's head back and kisses him. He says, "I'll stay."
Warnings: This isn't happy. If you're looking for fluff you should probably skip this one.
Notes: For playfullips on her birthday. I wish this could have been some other kind of fic, but angst is what you're getting. I love you, bb. Things are a looking up. I swear it. ♥ Thanks to ericaplease for looking at this for me.
They decide on a hotel because they both want to meet on neutral ground after having too many fights in places they used to feel welcome. Brendon thinks part of the magic of being loved by someone is that you feel like you belong where they belong. Now it feels like the only place they can come together is somewhere that doesn't belong to either of them.
Brendon steps into the room quietly. Jon is already there, sitting on the bed with his hands folded neatly in his lap. He looks up when Brendon steps through the door and they stare at one another, soaking each other up after being apart for over a month.
There are so many things Brendon wants to say. A million words have lodged themselves in Brendon's throat until it feels like he can't move air past them. His chest hurts, but he's not sure if saying any of those words will make it hurt more or less.
Jon surges off the bed, closing the distance between them. He touches Brendon's face, just his finger tips against the line of Brendon's jaw. The touch is tentative, like Jon's not sure he has the right to do it. Brendon's not sure he does either, not anymore, but he's missed this. He's missed Jon.
Brendon leans in to the touch, tipping his face to the side until Jon moves his other hand up to cup Brendon's face. Jon kisses him, and it feels like Brendon is being pulled apart from the inside out. Everything hurts, and the pain has Brendon wanting to hurt Jon, too. He bites viciously into Jon's bottom lip, making Jon hiss and pull back. Their breaths are loud against the quiet hum of the air conditioning. Brendon pushes Jon back toward the bed. He knows this isn't going to fix anything -- having sex isn't going to magically make everything better -- but Brendon doesn't think things can get any worse between them.
Brendon has always sucked at goodbyes.
"I want you to fuck me," Brendon says. Those are the first words he's spoken to Jon in more than a month, and some bitter part of Brendon's brain thinks, He already did.
Jon kisses him again. The kiss has an ugly edge to it, as if they've both decided that if they're not going to say what they're feeling they'll use their mouths to hurt each other in other ways. Brendon kisses back just as hard. He pulls on the ends of Jon's hair until Jon rips his mouth away from Brendon's and steps back. Brendon pulls his t-shirt over his head and lets it drop to the floor. The room is cold, making Brendon's skin break out in gooseflesh. His nipples make hard points against his chest. Jon follows his lead, both of them methodically removing their clothes until they're standing by the bed, naked and shivering.
Jon says, "Come here." His voice sounds wrong, like rusted hinges on a door being opened after years of neglect. Brendon wonders if the reason he hasn't heard from Jon for more than a month is because Jon's only just remembered how to speak.
Brendon goes to Jon. He presses his chest against Jon's chest and kisses his throat. The skin there is warm against Brendon's lips. He drags his mouth up Jon's neck, letting the stubble there rub abrasively against his lips. It hurts, and Brendon's glad. It should hurt. There's no reason for this to be any less painful than everything else.
"Come on," Brendon mouths against Jon's skin.
Jon puts his hands on Brendon's hips and turns them, pushing Brendon down onto the bed. Jon leans over him, pulling and manhandling Brendon until he's sprawled out in the center of the mattress, legs spread and chest heaving. Jon settles between Brendon's thighs, weighing him down, anchoring him to the bed with his hips, but Brendon doesn't feel trapped. He feels safe. He clings to that feeling, even if a part of him knows it's a lie.
Brendon is still only half-hard, but the feeling of Jon's cock rub against his does a lot to get Brendon there the rest of the way. Jon leans down, and Brendon surges up, their mouths meeting each other somewhere in the middle.
They kiss wet and desperate. Brendon wraps his arms around Jon, splaying his hands across the smooth skin of Jon's back. Jon's warm. His muscles tremble under his skin, making Brendon want to rub soothing circles across his back before he thinks better of it.
This is how it's always been with them; a give and take that Brendon never felt was one-sided until it was. Brendon thinks that's what hurts the most -- not that Jon is gone, but that maybe he was never really there the way Brendon thought he was.
Jon holds himself up, his arms bunching and knotting under the strain of his own weight, and Brendon's hands move up over Jon's shoulders and down his arms. He holds on. He tries to lose himself in Jon's skin and Jon's mouth and Jon's cock lying hard against his own. He tries to focus on the physical, because he can't stop focusing on everything else.
Jon scoots back and off the bed just long enough to dig in his pants for his wallet. He pulls a condom out of the billfold and throws it on the bed next to Brendon's hip. Brendon closes his eyes and takes a deep breath, letting it out as Jon settles over him again. Jon rolls his hips and Brendon gasps, grasping Jon's shoulders and digging his fingers into Jon's skin.
Jon puts the tips of two fingers against Brendon's lips and says, "Suck."
Brendon wants to say something bitter. He wants to open his mouth and hurt Jon, until he's sure Jon feels as badly as he does. Instead, he takes Jon's fingers into his mouth and laves his tongue over Jon's fingertips, catching on the callouses there. The rough skin reminds Brendon that Jon is still making music, hardening the pads of his fingers on his instruments in some place that Brendon will never hear him play.
Brendon sucks harder. Jon leans in and licks at the corner of Brendon's mouth, parting Brendon's lips and kissing him off-center and sloppy with his fingers still pressed against Brendon's tongue. Then he pulls away and sits up on his knees between Brendon's legs, sliding his fingers out of Brendon's mouth and moving his hand between Brendon's thighs.
Brendon takes a deep breath as Jon pushes his index finger inside. It's not easy. Brendon wishes he'd brought lube, but he honestly didn't think they were going to be doing this. He probably should have, given their history. He and Jon have always been better at communicating through looks and touches rather than through actual words.
Brendon bears down, lifting his hips to give Jon better access. Jon gets his finger in to the second knuckle and then works it back out again. He pushes back in with two fingers and Brendon sucks in a breath loudly through his nose, hissing as he lets it out. Jon leans over and bites Brendon's thigh gently, distracting him from the pain.
"Just do it," Brendon says, twisting his fingers in the sheets. "I don't care if it hurts. I want it to."
Jon ignores him, easing his fingers in slowly and gently. He licks the crease of Brendon's thigh, breathing heavily over his cock before he mouths gently at the head. Brendon bucks his hips and moans as Jon's fingers sink in even further.
"Tell me again," Jon says.
Brendon can feel Jon's breath hot against his cock. The feeling is distracting enough that it takes Brendon a moment to figure out that Jon's actually said something.
"What?" Brendon asks, pushing his hips up to move his cock closer to Jon's mouth.
"Tell me what you want," Jon answers.
Part of Brendon wants to tell Jon to go fuck himself. Part of him wants to climb off the bed, put his clothes back on, leave and never look back. But leaving wouldn't solve anything anymore than letting Jon fuck him is going to. Everything hurts. Brendon's just so tired and he wants to stop hurting, even if it's only long enough to get off.
Brendon bites his lip and turns his face away from Jon. He says, "I want you to fuck me."
Jon says, "Open the condom," right before he licks at Brendon's cock again.
There's no real relief in having Jon's mouth on his cock. Jon's being careful, barely mouthing along the shaft before licking the head over and over again. The teasing is driving Brendon crazy. He wants Jon to either suck him off or fuck him. He wants Jon to be here with him like he used to be. He feels like Jon is halfway out the door already, and he really, really wants Jon to be here with him, even if it's only for this one moment.
Brendon reaches for the condom and tears it open, hands shaking as he rips the foil. "Jon," he says.
Jon sits up and reaches for the condom. He pulls his fingers free, wiping them across the sheet before he rolls the condom on. He doesn't say anything. He doesn't look at Brendon's face as he lifts him up by his hips. He hooks one of Brendon's legs over his shoulder and pushes the other one up and out, splaying his hand across Brendon's inner thigh to hold his legs open.
Jon's other hand goes to his cock and he uses it to guide himself in, nudging his hips forward, sinking in slow and steady until he's fully inside Brendon.
Brendon lets out a slow breath and watches Jon's face. Jon's eyes are closed, his nostrils flaring out. He looks like he's trying to control himself, and Brendon doesn't want that. Brendon's so tired of the two of them circling each other. Brendon's sick of being cautious.
"No," Brendon pants. "Don't be like that. Just... Please. I want you to fuck me."
Jon's eyes snap open, raking over Brendon's face. Jon takes a deep breath and hooks Brendon's other leg over his shoulder. He pulls out and snaps his hips forward again, thrusting hard enough that his body weight practically folds Brendon in half.
Jon keeps changing the speed of his thrusts -- hard and fast and then slow, rolling his hips and looking at Brendon's face for his every reaction. Brendon would like nothing more than to withhold any kind of satisfaction, but he can't stop the noises he makes. He grunts every time Jon pushes in.
Jon's belly brushes along Brendon's cock teasingly. Their bodies aren't pressed close enough to get any kind of real friction going, and Brendon feels fevered with the need to come. He reaches between them, intent on jacking himself off.
Jon shakes his head and says, "No. Just like this."
He reaches for Brendon's wrists, stretching them out over Brendon's head and pinning them to the mattress. Jon leans in and kisses Brendon gently, even as his thrusts get harder and faster until Brendon feels nothing but heat low in his belly.
Jon says, "I missed you."
He says it like it's something he used to do. He says it like he doesn't know that when this is over they'll both be walking out the door and heading in opposite directions. He says it like they've both found what they were looking for, even if they know it won't last.
It snaps whatever thin hold Brendon has had on his emotions. He says, "I hate you."
Jon's face changes. His eyes get a far away look, gleaming a little along the edges like he's trying not to cry. He kisses Brendon and when he pulls back Brendon continues saying, "I hate you. I hate you. I hate you. I hate you," over and over again.
Jon shakes his head, denying it even as Brendon continues to say it. His thrusts get harder and sloppier, like he's trying to hurt Brendon as badly as Brendon's hurting him.
"No," Jon says.
Brendon turns his head away toward the wall, his eyes watering against his will. He doesn't have any idea how they're keeping any kind of rhythm anymore. Brendon's been on the edge for a while now, but he doesn't have any desire to fall off of it. He wants to stay here, touching Jon. He wants a lot of things he can't have anymore. Brendon keeps his face turned away and says, "Yes I do."
Brendon closes his eyes and wishes it was true.
Jon lets go of Brendon's wrists and grabs his chin, turning Brendon's face so he's looking at Jon.
"Well, I love you," Jon says desperately.
Brendon wants to deny it, but he can't. All he has to do is look at Jon's face to know he's telling the truth. Jon loves him. Jon loves him, and it still doesn't fix anything. It still doesn't make anything better.
"I love you," Jon says again, and it makes Brendon's stomach flip and twist. Jon reaches between them and squeeze Brendon's cock, running his thumb just below the head. Brendon's eyes widen in surprise when that's all it takes to have him coming so hard he looses the feeling in his toes.
Jon groans and says, "I love you," again and again, punctuating each word with a thrust of his hips until he buries his face in Brendon's neck and comes.
Brendon pushes at Jon's shoulder until Jon rolls over, taking Brendon with him. Brendon's chest still hurts, the pain coming back sharper now that the feeling of his orgasm is fading. He tucks his head against Jon's shoulder and breathes.
"You left," Brendon says softly.
Jon breathes in and out, his hand trailing up Brendon's back to his neck. He twists his fingers in Brendon's hair.
"I didn't leave you," Jon says. "It doesn't have to be one or the other."
Brendon isn't so sure. He doesn't know how to separate what they were from what they are. He doesn't know how to stop letting it hurt him.
"I missed you, too," Brendon says.
Jon sighs and pulls Brendon closer, burying his face in Brendon's hair. "What now?" he asks.
Brendon feels tired, but for the first time in a month he doesn't feel alone. "I want you to stay," he says. "I want you to be here when I wake up. Just... say you'll stay."
Jon tips Brendon's head back and kisses him. He says, "I'll stay."