The Brendon Urie Pain Kink Pornathon!
There are so many things to love about Brendon Urie: his muppet face, his ridiculous body, how much he loves his band.
His giant, raging pain kink.
With that in mind, I bring you
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His giant, raging pain kink.
With that in mind, I bring you
( Read more... )
“I don’t, don’t want- Brendon, wait,” Spencer gasped, because he was losing it, losing himself. His vision was sort of going dark around the edges. His hands clenched into fists, and his stomach felt tight, tense. “I’m going to hurt you,” he said, and was shocked back into being himself a bit when Brendon laughed.
“That’s kind of the idea, Spencer.” There was already a dark bruise across Brendon’s right shoulder blade; a place Spencer had been hitting more forcefully and frequently than all the others. But he was red everywhere else, too, all across his back, and Spencer knew there would be more bruises everywhere by tomorrow morning.
“You’re not getting it,” Spencer grit out, somewhere between thrusts, hips slamming into Brendon hard enough to make his body move on the bed, knees sliding a fraction up the sheets. They were getting closer to the wall as they fucked, and Spencer had to grab a hand at Brendon’s shoulder and pull him back, keep him more in place so that Spencer didn’t fall into the urge to just shove him right against it, see what sounds his head would make as he smacked into it.
Brendon moaned at Spencer grabbing him and slumped down a little further, elbows starting to give out where they were holding his body up. “You can. Fuck, Spence, you can safeword too, okay? Just fucking hit me.” He sounded desperate, hazy. Spencer knew he was trying with everything in him to keep it together, to not fall into that space where Spencer’s words weren’t enough to pull him back out. Spencer immediately felt guilty. He was supposed to be commanding, taking care of Brendon and telling him what his limits were, not the other way around. He mentally shook himself, pausing in his thrusts and counting slowly to ten in his mind. He could hear Brendon whining, but it was distant sounding. A moment was needed just for himself, for him to remind himself of his job, why he was here, and then it was okay, it was good, and he pulled all the way out before shoving back in, hips smacking against Brendon’s ass. Brendon cried out, but it wasn’t a wanton moan anymore, it was something weaker, less sexual. He was getting exactly to the place that scared Spencer the most, but the place they both knew they were after.
Spencer brought both hands back up, not touching Brendon. “Hold the headboard,” he growled, and Brendon was like a robot, just reaching out and grabbing onto the rods of the headboard automatically. His movements were stiff, not fluid, and Spencer wondered how much of regular Brendon was left down there, how much Spencer had already beat out of him. One of Spencer’s fists came down onto Brendon’s back, and then the other. They were in random spots, both a good distance from Brendon’s spine. The underside of Spencer’s hands were starting to ache, burning across the bonier parts of his pinkies, but it was an ache completely secondary to his focus of hurting Brendon, pushing him, forcing his body into complete pain. He brought his right fist down again onto that one deep bruise, the spot where Brendon’s shoulder blade stuck out the farthest. It was bone on bone, and Brendon made a sound that could have been a word or nothing at all. It didn’t matter. Four more times Spencer hit him there, hard, watching as it got darker and darker, more dangerous. Spencer fucked into Brendon deep, so close to coming as he looked at the mark, wondering if Brendon was bleeding underneath all that smooth, pale skin of his. Spencer wanted to cut him open and see.
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“Good boy,” Spencer murmured into his ear. He brought his left fist down again, hitting Brendon somewhere just below his collar bone. He was beating him, God, actually beating his boyfriend, and then Brendon was coming, a sound spilling out of his mouth that Spencer had never heard - something sharp and broken, like shattered glass - as he came without a hand on him, spilling slowly over himself and dripping down onto the bed, hot and sticky. Spencer brought both hands up to Brendon’s throat again, fingers overlapping as they squeezed around the front, using it as leverage to choke Brendon and shove his body down at the same time as Spencer slammed his own hips up. It only took a few more thrusts before he was coming, letting go of Brendon’s throat and just holding him in place, making him stay while Spencer shot into his ass, filling him up, wet and dirty.
He eased Brendon down onto the bed, rolling him over so Spencer could see his face, pull his chest up against Spencer’s. He murmured softly, stroking at Brendon’s hair. He wanted to get up and pour them some water, at least, but Brendon hated for him to leave right after, so Spencer just stayed there, letting one arm go over Brendon’s side, hand sliding delicately over his deep, purple bruises, and waited for Brendon to come to.
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Yes, so wonderful of him to finally have a boyfriend who, uh, likes to hit him a lot? Sure!
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IN CASE IT WASN'T CLEAR, I LOOOOOVE YOU OH MY GOD
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I love you tooooo. OBVS.
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A+ ON THE SUPER CRAZY HOT FIC, OH. MY. GOD.
AND THEN THE COMMENT! ROD STEWART! WIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIN! HAHAHAHAHA!!!!
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