Sunburnt, Spencer/Brendon, NC-17
Sunburnt | Panic at the Disco | Brendon/Spencer | NC-17 | ~1,700 words
He was from Vegas, for god’s sake, you’d think that his skin would be used to plenty of sun. But apparently the difference between Vegas sun and Australian sun was pretty intense.disarm_d mentions Spencer getting sunburned in her latest fic Only Unto Him, and this quick ficlet happened. Bears no other resemblance to her fic, sadly. It's Spencer and sunburn and itching.
I don't know. There's every possibility that I'll be the only person to find this hot.
Sunburnt
by iamtheenemy
Spencer was in hell. He was from Vegas, for god’s sake, you’d think that his skin would be used to plenty of sun. But apparently the difference between Vegas sun and Australian sun was pretty intense. He’d only been on the beach for an hour a week ago, and his skin had turned a bright, painful, fire engine red everywhere from the waist up.
He didn’t know how, but he’d find a way to blame this on Brendon Urie and his golden, perfectly tanned skin.
Spencer had thought that the four days of searing pain were the worst part, but oh, he was wrong about that, because this - this beat that hands down. His skin had been peeling the last few days, and he looked like something out of a horror movie. So thank goodness he didn’t have a job where people took a thousand pictures of him every time he stepped out off his bus.
Whatever, he could deal with that. What he couldn’t deal with was the itching. It felt like someone rubbed him down with itching powder and kept him like that for the last three days. It was hard to get through a song without having to stop and scratch at the dead skin on his shoulders or stomach, never mind a whole show.
The worst of it was his back, because he either couldn’t reach where he needed to or else he didn’t have the right angle. There was a spot between his shoulder blades that was making him actually go crazy. The night before, after using his brush to try and reach it, he had a fantasy about peeling the dead skin away in one long, careful pull. It was kind of a disturbing mental image, but it still got him half hard just thinking about it.
He’d claimed the lounge for himself because it was the only place he could stretch out to sleep. The other guys were off enjoying themselves in fucking Australia, so Spencer took advantage, spreading out on his stomach in a pair of loose boxers and attempting to ignore the way everything from the back of his neck down to his hips itched like crazy. When he was eight years old, he caught the chicken pox from Ryan, but he didn’t remember everything itching as badly then as it did now.
In front of him, the door to the lounge slid open, and Brendon’s boots wandering into view. Spencer groaned and hid his face in his pillow.
“Hey, Spence,” Brendon said, sounding cheerful, that un-sunburned freak of nature.
“No, we’re still not having sex,” Spencer answered.
“I wasn’t going to ask that,” Brendon said, and then immediately contradicted himself by straddling Spencer’s hips and settling his weight on Spencer’s ass.
“Brendon…” Spencer said warily, shifting against the pressure of Brendon’s body and self-conscious about his red, peeling back being on display. If Spencer was honest with himself, this was the worst part of the last week: he hadn’t had sex at all. At first, because it hurt too much to move, and now because he looked like something out of 28 Days Later.
Brendon’s familiar weight reminded him just how long it had been, and he started counting the hours to distract himself. He capped out at a hundred and twenty, because that itch came back, the one between his shoulder blades. He squeezed his eyes shut against it and exhaled a long, slow breath.
“I have a surprise for you,” Brendon said and Spencer groaned. He’d been on the other end of enough of Brendon’s hilarious surprises to fear what he could mean.
“Come on, I’m dying here, don’t fuck with me,” Spencer said. He knew it sounded like begging, but he was tired and uncomfortable and kind of turned on. He wanted to be left alone.
“I wouldn’t,” Brendon said, sounding wounded. “This is something my mom used to do for me. Ready?”
“Ready for wha - “ Spencer began, then broke off in a long, ecstatic groan. Brendon had something - some kind of gloves that were course and bristly and felt amazing against Spencer’s itchy skin. After the first long stroke from waist to neck, Spencer was rock hard, his dick trapped between his body and the carpet under him. “Holy shit.”
“I know, right?” Brendon said smugly while scrubbing around both of Spencer’s shoulder blades.
“What are you using?” Spencer demanded.
“Loofah gloves,” Brendon answered, waving one blue-gloved hand in front of Spencer’s face. “I saw them at the store.”
The hand went back to Spencer’s skin and rubbed against the rough patch of dead skin usually covered by his jeans.
“Ohh,” Spencer sighed, shutting his eyes and luxuriating in the feel of Brendon scratching away all that itchiness.
“There?” Brendon asked, rubbing wide circles against Spencer’s hip. “Better?”
Spencer nodded, and Brendon asked, “How about this?” before running a hand straight up Spencer’s spine.
Spencer’s breath came out in a loud pant, and he desperately rolled his hips against the carpet.
“Can you…” he gasped, “Between my shoulder blades, can you get it?”
“Hmm? Oh yeah, it looks pretty bad there. Hang on.”
One of the gloves fell in front of Spencer’s face and he frowned. “Don’t touch it, Brendon. That’s gross.”
“Why?” Brendon argued. “It doesn’t look that bad, and it’s just skin, not shit or puke or something.”
“Come on, I look like a zombie.” Spencer tried to shift away from him.
“A zombie?” Brendon asked.
“You know, skin falling off.”
“Oh, good one,” he said, then scratched hard against that fucking spot, making Spencer’s back arch into the touch. The gloves were great - more than great, they were fantastic, phenomenal, magical - but Brendon’s short, blunt nails digging in was something else completely. Spencer forgot how gross it was and rode the wave of pleasure that came from someone scratching an itch just right.
Brendon sing-song, “You like that,” as he brought his other bare hand into it too.
After a few seconds, though, the scratching became lighter, almost tickling, and Spencer squirmed as the itchiness returned.
“Brendon, don’t be an asshole,” Spencer said.
“Ready?” Brendon answered, brushing just his fingertips against Spencer’s skin slowly. “Set…” A brief, soft scratch that made Spencer jerk. “Go.” There was a pause and then his nails were back there, scratching and scratching, hard and perfect, and Spencer started thrusting against the floor in earnest.
“God, god…” he gasped, then asked, “Your mom did this to you?”
“Yeah,” Brendon said, before stilling long enough that Spencer regretted asking the question. “It wasn’t creepy though.”
Spencer laughed and wrapped his arms around his pillow. “If you say so.”
“I swear,” Brendon said. The weight on Spencer’s ass was gone, and Brendon picked up the glove from the floor. Spencer was about the apologize to get Brendon’s hands back on him when Brendon said, “Turn over.”
Spencer almost sprained something in his rush to flip to his back. Brendon immediately sat back down, and Spencer’s hips stuttered up against him.
“Still don’t want to have sex?” he asked, waggling his eyebrows, before he repeated what he’d first done on Spencer’s back to his front, running both gloved hands up the middle of his stomach from bellybutton to collarbone.
Spencer tipped his head back - because of how good it felt, but also so that he didn’t have to see Brendon touching his peeling skin. He raised his arms above his head to give Brendon better access to his sides and waist.
Brendon ran a hand from one side of Spencer’s waist to the other and then pulled back, grinning. He wiggled down against Spencer’s cock, making Spencer’s breath catch, and said, “I like these. I think I’m going to turn you into my love slave with them. You know: suck me off and I’ll use them on you for fifteen minutes.”
He leaned forward to put a hand on each of Spencer’s biceps and slid them up to scrub against the rounded curves of Spencer’s shoulders. While he scratched, his hips continued rocking on top of Spencer’s dick. Spencer pushed up in counterpoint, bending one leg and digging the other heel into the floor for leverage.
“Oh yeah, your eyes just rolled back, that means you’re about to come. Don’t worry, Spencer, it only makes you look a little bit more like a zombie.”
Spencer laughed breathlessly, “Fuck off.”
“I bet I can count it down. Want to see? Ready? Three, two…”
Spencer’s body was pretty much hardwired to Brendon’s whims after almost a year, so it was no surprise that on one, he thrust a final time and came hard, the wetness spreading inside his boxers.
“That’s so hot, oh my god, Spence,” Brendon was saying, and then, “Ow, shit!” as he tried to take his cock into his gloved hand. Raising his hand to his mouth, he bit down on a finger of the glove and pulled his hand out before spitting the glove to the ground.
Spencer beat him, wrapping his hand around Brendon’s dick first and stroking firmly.
“Love slave,” Brendon repeated shakily before his hips jerked up and he came all over Spencer’s hand and stomach.
Brendon tumbled over to lie next to Spencer and snuggle close. Spencer picked up the fallen glove and turned it over in his hand.
“Awesome right?” Brendon asked, and the smugness was back.
“Mmm,” Spencer agreed. “I want to do your mom so hard right now.”
Brendon sputtered, “Dude!”
“What? She’s a very attractive woman.”
“Dude!” he repeated before dragging the hand still wearing the other glove across one of Spencer’s nipples.
“Ow, fuck!” Spencer cried, pushing Brendon’s hand away.
“You deserved that, you dick.”
Spencer totally did. To make up for it, he kicked off his dirty boxers and straddled Brendon.
“I’ll suck you off for fifteen minutes with those gloves on my back,” he said, attempting to wiggle his eyebrows in a Brendon-like fashion.
“I knew it!” Brendon crowed, and Spencer silenced him with a kiss.
He was from Vegas, for god’s sake, you’d think that his skin would be used to plenty of sun. But apparently the difference between Vegas sun and Australian sun was pretty intense.disarm_d mentions Spencer getting sunburned in her latest fic Only Unto Him, and this quick ficlet happened. Bears no other resemblance to her fic, sadly. It's Spencer and sunburn and itching.
I don't know. There's every possibility that I'll be the only person to find this hot.
Sunburnt
by iamtheenemy
Spencer was in hell. He was from Vegas, for god’s sake, you’d think that his skin would be used to plenty of sun. But apparently the difference between Vegas sun and Australian sun was pretty intense. He’d only been on the beach for an hour a week ago, and his skin had turned a bright, painful, fire engine red everywhere from the waist up.
He didn’t know how, but he’d find a way to blame this on Brendon Urie and his golden, perfectly tanned skin.
Spencer had thought that the four days of searing pain were the worst part, but oh, he was wrong about that, because this - this beat that hands down. His skin had been peeling the last few days, and he looked like something out of a horror movie. So thank goodness he didn’t have a job where people took a thousand pictures of him every time he stepped out off his bus.
Whatever, he could deal with that. What he couldn’t deal with was the itching. It felt like someone rubbed him down with itching powder and kept him like that for the last three days. It was hard to get through a song without having to stop and scratch at the dead skin on his shoulders or stomach, never mind a whole show.
The worst of it was his back, because he either couldn’t reach where he needed to or else he didn’t have the right angle. There was a spot between his shoulder blades that was making him actually go crazy. The night before, after using his brush to try and reach it, he had a fantasy about peeling the dead skin away in one long, careful pull. It was kind of a disturbing mental image, but it still got him half hard just thinking about it.
He’d claimed the lounge for himself because it was the only place he could stretch out to sleep. The other guys were off enjoying themselves in fucking Australia, so Spencer took advantage, spreading out on his stomach in a pair of loose boxers and attempting to ignore the way everything from the back of his neck down to his hips itched like crazy. When he was eight years old, he caught the chicken pox from Ryan, but he didn’t remember everything itching as badly then as it did now.
In front of him, the door to the lounge slid open, and Brendon’s boots wandering into view. Spencer groaned and hid his face in his pillow.
“Hey, Spence,” Brendon said, sounding cheerful, that un-sunburned freak of nature.
“No, we’re still not having sex,” Spencer answered.
“I wasn’t going to ask that,” Brendon said, and then immediately contradicted himself by straddling Spencer’s hips and settling his weight on Spencer’s ass.
“Brendon…” Spencer said warily, shifting against the pressure of Brendon’s body and self-conscious about his red, peeling back being on display. If Spencer was honest with himself, this was the worst part of the last week: he hadn’t had sex at all. At first, because it hurt too much to move, and now because he looked like something out of 28 Days Later.
Brendon’s familiar weight reminded him just how long it had been, and he started counting the hours to distract himself. He capped out at a hundred and twenty, because that itch came back, the one between his shoulder blades. He squeezed his eyes shut against it and exhaled a long, slow breath.
“I have a surprise for you,” Brendon said and Spencer groaned. He’d been on the other end of enough of Brendon’s hilarious surprises to fear what he could mean.
“Come on, I’m dying here, don’t fuck with me,” Spencer said. He knew it sounded like begging, but he was tired and uncomfortable and kind of turned on. He wanted to be left alone.
“I wouldn’t,” Brendon said, sounding wounded. “This is something my mom used to do for me. Ready?”
“Ready for wha - “ Spencer began, then broke off in a long, ecstatic groan. Brendon had something - some kind of gloves that were course and bristly and felt amazing against Spencer’s itchy skin. After the first long stroke from waist to neck, Spencer was rock hard, his dick trapped between his body and the carpet under him. “Holy shit.”
“I know, right?” Brendon said smugly while scrubbing around both of Spencer’s shoulder blades.
“What are you using?” Spencer demanded.
“Loofah gloves,” Brendon answered, waving one blue-gloved hand in front of Spencer’s face. “I saw them at the store.”
The hand went back to Spencer’s skin and rubbed against the rough patch of dead skin usually covered by his jeans.
“Ohh,” Spencer sighed, shutting his eyes and luxuriating in the feel of Brendon scratching away all that itchiness.
“There?” Brendon asked, rubbing wide circles against Spencer’s hip. “Better?”
Spencer nodded, and Brendon asked, “How about this?” before running a hand straight up Spencer’s spine.
Spencer’s breath came out in a loud pant, and he desperately rolled his hips against the carpet.
“Can you…” he gasped, “Between my shoulder blades, can you get it?”
“Hmm? Oh yeah, it looks pretty bad there. Hang on.”
One of the gloves fell in front of Spencer’s face and he frowned. “Don’t touch it, Brendon. That’s gross.”
“Why?” Brendon argued. “It doesn’t look that bad, and it’s just skin, not shit or puke or something.”
“Come on, I look like a zombie.” Spencer tried to shift away from him.
“A zombie?” Brendon asked.
“You know, skin falling off.”
“Oh, good one,” he said, then scratched hard against that fucking spot, making Spencer’s back arch into the touch. The gloves were great - more than great, they were fantastic, phenomenal, magical - but Brendon’s short, blunt nails digging in was something else completely. Spencer forgot how gross it was and rode the wave of pleasure that came from someone scratching an itch just right.
Brendon sing-song, “You like that,” as he brought his other bare hand into it too.
After a few seconds, though, the scratching became lighter, almost tickling, and Spencer squirmed as the itchiness returned.
“Brendon, don’t be an asshole,” Spencer said.
“Ready?” Brendon answered, brushing just his fingertips against Spencer’s skin slowly. “Set…” A brief, soft scratch that made Spencer jerk. “Go.” There was a pause and then his nails were back there, scratching and scratching, hard and perfect, and Spencer started thrusting against the floor in earnest.
“God, god…” he gasped, then asked, “Your mom did this to you?”
“Yeah,” Brendon said, before stilling long enough that Spencer regretted asking the question. “It wasn’t creepy though.”
Spencer laughed and wrapped his arms around his pillow. “If you say so.”
“I swear,” Brendon said. The weight on Spencer’s ass was gone, and Brendon picked up the glove from the floor. Spencer was about the apologize to get Brendon’s hands back on him when Brendon said, “Turn over.”
Spencer almost sprained something in his rush to flip to his back. Brendon immediately sat back down, and Spencer’s hips stuttered up against him.
“Still don’t want to have sex?” he asked, waggling his eyebrows, before he repeated what he’d first done on Spencer’s back to his front, running both gloved hands up the middle of his stomach from bellybutton to collarbone.
Spencer tipped his head back - because of how good it felt, but also so that he didn’t have to see Brendon touching his peeling skin. He raised his arms above his head to give Brendon better access to his sides and waist.
Brendon ran a hand from one side of Spencer’s waist to the other and then pulled back, grinning. He wiggled down against Spencer’s cock, making Spencer’s breath catch, and said, “I like these. I think I’m going to turn you into my love slave with them. You know: suck me off and I’ll use them on you for fifteen minutes.”
He leaned forward to put a hand on each of Spencer’s biceps and slid them up to scrub against the rounded curves of Spencer’s shoulders. While he scratched, his hips continued rocking on top of Spencer’s dick. Spencer pushed up in counterpoint, bending one leg and digging the other heel into the floor for leverage.
“Oh yeah, your eyes just rolled back, that means you’re about to come. Don’t worry, Spencer, it only makes you look a little bit more like a zombie.”
Spencer laughed breathlessly, “Fuck off.”
“I bet I can count it down. Want to see? Ready? Three, two…”
Spencer’s body was pretty much hardwired to Brendon’s whims after almost a year, so it was no surprise that on one, he thrust a final time and came hard, the wetness spreading inside his boxers.
“That’s so hot, oh my god, Spence,” Brendon was saying, and then, “Ow, shit!” as he tried to take his cock into his gloved hand. Raising his hand to his mouth, he bit down on a finger of the glove and pulled his hand out before spitting the glove to the ground.
Spencer beat him, wrapping his hand around Brendon’s dick first and stroking firmly.
“Love slave,” Brendon repeated shakily before his hips jerked up and he came all over Spencer’s hand and stomach.
Brendon tumbled over to lie next to Spencer and snuggle close. Spencer picked up the fallen glove and turned it over in his hand.
“Awesome right?” Brendon asked, and the smugness was back.
“Mmm,” Spencer agreed. “I want to do your mom so hard right now.”
Brendon sputtered, “Dude!”
“What? She’s a very attractive woman.”
“Dude!” he repeated before dragging the hand still wearing the other glove across one of Spencer’s nipples.
“Ow, fuck!” Spencer cried, pushing Brendon’s hand away.
“You deserved that, you dick.”
Spencer totally did. To make up for it, he kicked off his dirty boxers and straddled Brendon.
“I’ll suck you off for fifteen minutes with those gloves on my back,” he said, attempting to wiggle his eyebrows in a Brendon-like fashion.
“I knew it!” Brendon crowed, and Spencer silenced him with a kiss.