What he was asking for (bandslash, Spencer/Brendon, adult)
Because I was procrastinating today...
Written for the Bandom Gets Spanked meme.
Title: What he was asking for
Author: irisgirl12000
Rating: adult
Disclaimer: This is entirely fictional. Spencer and Brendon really don't fuck. I think. And if you know either of these two? You should probably click the little "back" arrow now.
Notes: Don't tell me you didn't think about something like this if you saw video of Brendon's between-song speech at the gig in Manchester. Nothing but dirty porn here, y'all. And totally unbeta'd.
Spencer watches, expressionless, from behind his kit when Brendon makes his public service announcement for the audience. They'd agreed, they'd all agreed, that it was better, easier, if they went with the lie that Brendon was the single bandmember, and he'd known that Ryan and Brendon would make some big deal about it before Lying, so he has no reason to be jealous. There's no reason for the rumbling snarl of possessiveness he feels. He knows whose bed Brendon will be sleeping in tonight, and it isn't some anonymous person from the crowd. He lets Ryan and Jon handle the crowd reaction.
Still.
The publicity requirements and gigs have kept them on the road and busy non-stop for pretty much all of the European tour. After over a dozen shows of increasingly outrageous statements, ending with Brendon's invitation to girls -- and dudes! -- in the audience, he's had enough. And maybe Spencer is also mildly annoyed by the way Brendon had flirted with the interviewer and shaken his ass at the photographer this morning. Brendon needs to be reminded to whom he belongs.
It's a hotel night, and they're all glad when the show's over and they can relax. Spencer is quiet in the elevator, standing near enough that he can feel Brendon's body heat, but not quite touching. When the doors open, he lets Ryan and Jon precede them, and when the other two peel off to go to their rooms, he grips Brendon's wrist firmly, preventing him from doing the same. Usually they'd go their separate ways, and he'd wait for Brendon to come to him. But tonight Spencer doesn't let go until the door to his room is closed behind him, and even then he's tugging Brendon further in, twisting him so that his face is to the wall, his weight is pushing Brendon against it, and leaning down so that his lips are at Brendon's ear.
"You'd do nasty things? To random strangers?" Spencer's voice is low, coming from deep in his chest.
Brendon rolls his shoulders and hips, pushes back against Spencer, turns his head enough that Spencer can see the edge of his smirk. "Maybe. Since I am the only single one in the group, supposedly. People should think that I'm living the rockstar life."
And that -- that was a taunt. Spencer actually growls, and then he's manhandling Brendon across the room to the bed, stripping Brendon's clothes off before pushing him down and crawling after him. Brendon twists beneath him, bucking and rocking against Spencer's weight until Spencer's hands are shackles on Brendon's wrists, and he pushes and pulls and lifts until Brendon is on his belly across his lap, his arms stretched above his head, pinned to the mattress.
"Leave them there." It's not a request. Spencer doesn't know where this dominant streak came from, and he doesn't care, as long as Brendon obeys. When he loosens his grip, Brendon's hands flex, but they stay where he left them. He slides his own down Brendon's arm, lets his hand rest heavily on the back of his neck. When Brendon arches into it, he squeezes until Brendon settles again. He's not expecting it when Brendon's dick, which had been half-hard from their struggle, twitches against his thigh. He tightens his grip again, and Brendon's hips rub against his legs.
He lets his free hand rub firmly down length of Brendon's spine until it rests on the small of his back, then slides it lower to brush the curve of his ass. Seriously. Brendon's ass. Spencer has an entire mental gallery of images of Brendon's ass, in jeans, in boxers, in sweatpants, in dress pants, naked, a towel falling from his hips, and he wanked to them for months before they actually started fucking. The high, round curve tempts him, the pale skin a dare. He lifts his hand, brings it down smartly enough to leave a pink handprint. Brendon's head drops against the covers, and he muffles a groan.
"You want to do nasty things to other people? I think the truth is that you want dirty, nasty things done to you. You want me to remind you who you do nasty things with."
Spencer lifts his hand, brings it down hard enough to make a sharp crack as skin collides with skin, and Brendon hisses, arches into it, his fingers twisting in the blankets above his head. Then Spencer's hand is rising and falling and Brendon's ass is going from creamy pale to pink to red. There's a continuous stream of moaning, and Brendon's hips roll steadily as he rubs his dick against Spencer's thigh. Spencer is almost unbearably aroused -- Brendon's turned on, open to it, begging for Spencer; he's admitting his own possessiveness to both of them without ever saying it, and Brendon's reveling in it.
His hand starts to sting, and he pauses, lets his fingertips brush down the crack of Brendon's ass to press against his entrance, and Brendon pushes back against it.
"Please, Spencer, please."
Reluctantly, Spencer pulls his fingers away and begins spanking Brendon again, interspersing hard blows with light swats. Brendon wiggles on his lap a little, finds an angle he likes, and rubs and arches and jerks, not quite rhythmically, until Spencer squeezes his neck and lands one sharp blow right on the curve where thigh meets ass, then Brendon is groaning and coming, hot and sticky and wet against Spencer's jeans.
When he's done, Brendon is limp in Spencer's lap, but he still turns his head and looks as Spencer, says, "Please," again.
Spencer stretches out, just far enough to get lube and condoms from his bag at the side of the bed. A flick of the cap and squirt of lube into his hand, then a quick press of two fingers inside Brendon, and then Spencer is sliding out from under him, pushing his pants down and rolling on the condom. He slicks it with the remnants of lube on his hand before nudging Brendon's legs wider and crawling between them, pushing in while Brendon's still relaxed and open.
"Nrgh... yeah."
Brendon rocks back into him, clenching around Spencer even though he's already half-softening from his own orgasm, and Spencer can't slow down, can't stop, until his pelvis is pressed against Brendon's ass, against hot skin. It has to hurt, at least a little, because Spencer wasn't careful about prep and he spanked Brendon hard, but Brendon doesn't object, doesn't try to move away, arches into it, open and accepting and taking it, wanting it, when Spencer fucks him, when Spencer pulls out at the very last minute, stripping the condom off and coming all over his ass, white and sticky against reddened skin.
When he collapses to the mattress next to Brendon, Brendon rolls to his side, a hazy, lazy grin on his face. "That was the dirtiest, nastiest thing ever, Spencer Smith. I think I got exactly what I was asking for."
Written for the Bandom Gets Spanked meme.
Title: What he was asking for
Author: irisgirl12000
Rating: adult
Disclaimer: This is entirely fictional. Spencer and Brendon really don't fuck. I think. And if you know either of these two? You should probably click the little "back" arrow now.
Notes: Don't tell me you didn't think about something like this if you saw video of Brendon's between-song speech at the gig in Manchester. Nothing but dirty porn here, y'all. And totally unbeta'd.
Spencer watches, expressionless, from behind his kit when Brendon makes his public service announcement for the audience. They'd agreed, they'd all agreed, that it was better, easier, if they went with the lie that Brendon was the single bandmember, and he'd known that Ryan and Brendon would make some big deal about it before Lying, so he has no reason to be jealous. There's no reason for the rumbling snarl of possessiveness he feels. He knows whose bed Brendon will be sleeping in tonight, and it isn't some anonymous person from the crowd. He lets Ryan and Jon handle the crowd reaction.
Still.
The publicity requirements and gigs have kept them on the road and busy non-stop for pretty much all of the European tour. After over a dozen shows of increasingly outrageous statements, ending with Brendon's invitation to girls -- and dudes! -- in the audience, he's had enough. And maybe Spencer is also mildly annoyed by the way Brendon had flirted with the interviewer and shaken his ass at the photographer this morning. Brendon needs to be reminded to whom he belongs.
It's a hotel night, and they're all glad when the show's over and they can relax. Spencer is quiet in the elevator, standing near enough that he can feel Brendon's body heat, but not quite touching. When the doors open, he lets Ryan and Jon precede them, and when the other two peel off to go to their rooms, he grips Brendon's wrist firmly, preventing him from doing the same. Usually they'd go their separate ways, and he'd wait for Brendon to come to him. But tonight Spencer doesn't let go until the door to his room is closed behind him, and even then he's tugging Brendon further in, twisting him so that his face is to the wall, his weight is pushing Brendon against it, and leaning down so that his lips are at Brendon's ear.
"You'd do nasty things? To random strangers?" Spencer's voice is low, coming from deep in his chest.
Brendon rolls his shoulders and hips, pushes back against Spencer, turns his head enough that Spencer can see the edge of his smirk. "Maybe. Since I am the only single one in the group, supposedly. People should think that I'm living the rockstar life."
And that -- that was a taunt. Spencer actually growls, and then he's manhandling Brendon across the room to the bed, stripping Brendon's clothes off before pushing him down and crawling after him. Brendon twists beneath him, bucking and rocking against Spencer's weight until Spencer's hands are shackles on Brendon's wrists, and he pushes and pulls and lifts until Brendon is on his belly across his lap, his arms stretched above his head, pinned to the mattress.
"Leave them there." It's not a request. Spencer doesn't know where this dominant streak came from, and he doesn't care, as long as Brendon obeys. When he loosens his grip, Brendon's hands flex, but they stay where he left them. He slides his own down Brendon's arm, lets his hand rest heavily on the back of his neck. When Brendon arches into it, he squeezes until Brendon settles again. He's not expecting it when Brendon's dick, which had been half-hard from their struggle, twitches against his thigh. He tightens his grip again, and Brendon's hips rub against his legs.
He lets his free hand rub firmly down length of Brendon's spine until it rests on the small of his back, then slides it lower to brush the curve of his ass. Seriously. Brendon's ass. Spencer has an entire mental gallery of images of Brendon's ass, in jeans, in boxers, in sweatpants, in dress pants, naked, a towel falling from his hips, and he wanked to them for months before they actually started fucking. The high, round curve tempts him, the pale skin a dare. He lifts his hand, brings it down smartly enough to leave a pink handprint. Brendon's head drops against the covers, and he muffles a groan.
"You want to do nasty things to other people? I think the truth is that you want dirty, nasty things done to you. You want me to remind you who you do nasty things with."
Spencer lifts his hand, brings it down hard enough to make a sharp crack as skin collides with skin, and Brendon hisses, arches into it, his fingers twisting in the blankets above his head. Then Spencer's hand is rising and falling and Brendon's ass is going from creamy pale to pink to red. There's a continuous stream of moaning, and Brendon's hips roll steadily as he rubs his dick against Spencer's thigh. Spencer is almost unbearably aroused -- Brendon's turned on, open to it, begging for Spencer; he's admitting his own possessiveness to both of them without ever saying it, and Brendon's reveling in it.
His hand starts to sting, and he pauses, lets his fingertips brush down the crack of Brendon's ass to press against his entrance, and Brendon pushes back against it.
"Please, Spencer, please."
Reluctantly, Spencer pulls his fingers away and begins spanking Brendon again, interspersing hard blows with light swats. Brendon wiggles on his lap a little, finds an angle he likes, and rubs and arches and jerks, not quite rhythmically, until Spencer squeezes his neck and lands one sharp blow right on the curve where thigh meets ass, then Brendon is groaning and coming, hot and sticky and wet against Spencer's jeans.
When he's done, Brendon is limp in Spencer's lap, but he still turns his head and looks as Spencer, says, "Please," again.
Spencer stretches out, just far enough to get lube and condoms from his bag at the side of the bed. A flick of the cap and squirt of lube into his hand, then a quick press of two fingers inside Brendon, and then Spencer is sliding out from under him, pushing his pants down and rolling on the condom. He slicks it with the remnants of lube on his hand before nudging Brendon's legs wider and crawling between them, pushing in while Brendon's still relaxed and open.
"Nrgh... yeah."
Brendon rocks back into him, clenching around Spencer even though he's already half-softening from his own orgasm, and Spencer can't slow down, can't stop, until his pelvis is pressed against Brendon's ass, against hot skin. It has to hurt, at least a little, because Spencer wasn't careful about prep and he spanked Brendon hard, but Brendon doesn't object, doesn't try to move away, arches into it, open and accepting and taking it, wanting it, when Spencer fucks him, when Spencer pulls out at the very last minute, stripping the condom off and coming all over his ass, white and sticky against reddened skin.
When he collapses to the mattress next to Brendon, Brendon rolls to his side, a hazy, lazy grin on his face. "That was the dirtiest, nastiest thing ever, Spencer Smith. I think I got exactly what I was asking for."