I'm Not Gonna Tell You the Things I Might Like
Title: I’m Not Gonna Tell You the Things I Might Like
Author: pinkichan
Pairing: Brendon/Tennessee
Rating: NC-17
Summary: With Brendon locked away in the studio recording the Panic album, it leaves Tennessee a lot of time to think up special activities just for him once he gets home.
Disclaimer: They don’t belong to me and this is all totally fake
Warning: Straight up porn.
Wordcount 2884
Authors Notes: Written for the kink-bingo square of masturbation (for show.)
Brendon finds Tennessee in his bedroom. She’s spread out in his bed, the blankets and sheets kicked away, and she’s splayed out wearing nothing but her panties and one of Brendon’s t-shirts stretched across her broad shoulders.
“What are you doing, Tenn?” Brendon asks. She’s not startled. Of course she isn’t: she’s the one who left him the note downstairs on his kitchen table, after all. The note was simple, reading, "Meet me in the boudoir. Love, Tennessee." with her standard doodles of smiling hearts and a tiny smiley face making up the dot of the 'i'.
Tennessee sits up, her strawberry-blonde hair spilling around her shoulders. She smiles wide at Brendon and winks at him. “I have a present for you,” she says sweetly, so sweetly. “Do you want it right now?” she asks. Her voice is tinged light and innocent and Brendon’s cock gives a small throb. Tennessee lies down on Brendon’s bed and rolls on to her side, hand resting on her hip.
Brendon scans her body, the long solid lines, the heavy curves of her breasts and hips. Tennessee raps her fingers against her hip, plays with the band of her panties. Brendon leans against the door frame, his cock stirring in his pants already.
“I don’t know. Do I?” Brendon teases. Tennessee giggles at him, deeper than her usual bright laugh. She sits up again, touches at the hem of the t-shirt she’s wearing, and tugs it up and over her head seamlessly. She’s not wearing her bra and her tits are heavy and beautiful. Brendon has to ignore the urge to go and touch her. This is Tennessee’s game and Brendon wants to see where she’s going with it without injecting himself into it. Not yet, at least.
Tennessee bites her lip and runs her callused fingers over the hard peaks of her pink nipples. She sighs airily and leaves one hand on her breast, one thumb tweaking her nipple and the other lowering to the front of her white panties. With Brendon watching her, Tennessee rubs a finger over her slit outside of her panties. She groans a little at the touch and Brendon joins her, his cock definitely hard and straining in his pants.
“Oh, trust me,” Tennessee says, her fingers sliding over her clothed cunt. “You want this, Brendon.”
Brendon pushes away from the door frame and moves towards the bed, fiddling with his belt on the way. He undoes his jeans and frantically slides a hand inside, touching at his cock through his boxers, mimicking Tennessee’s touch. Brendon frees himself of his pants and now he’s standing there next to the bed, tenting in his boxer briefs.
Brendon leans in to kiss Tennessee. She giggles and moves back away from him. “What, I don’t get to kiss you?” Brendon asks, kneeling on the edge of the bed and trying for another kiss. Tennessee meets him halfway. Their lips brush in a sweet little kiss, her hand drifting back to her panties, rubbing a finger along the length of her slit, the fabric of her panties already slick with how turned on Tennessee is.
“It would ruin the show, Brendon,” Tennessee whispers huskily. She’s still touching herself as she meets his eyes, and Brendon sees her mouth open on a tiny gasp. He leans in and kisses her again, firmer this time, with the intent to stay. Tennessee pulls back a little, enough to catch Brendon’s bottom lip between her teeth, biting softly. Finally, Tennessee pulls away from him and settles in the middle of the bed.
"The show?"
Tennessee just smiles coyly and continues touching herself, her long, slightly thick fingers rubbing over her clit, her tantalizing cunt hidden from him by her panties. She's so wet that he can see it, and Brendon is growing that way too, the front of his boxers dampened by a few pearls of precome collecting at the tip.
Tennessee groans softly and spreads her thighs a little wider. "I've been thinking about you for hours, Brendon," she tells him, her voice a throaty whisper. "I've planned it all out just for you."
"Let me touch you, then," Brendon insists. He sounds a little desperate, but he is desperate. He's been recording so much with Spencer that he's got all of this pent-up sexual energy coiled in his veins, currently burning a hole through his boxers. All he wants right now is to bury his fingers inside of Tennessee and lick at her wet pussy, tasting her completely.
"Ah, ah, not so fast," Tennessee says, her back arching a little. Tennessee uses two of her fingers to stroke over her covered cunt a bit quicker, fingers dipping in through the barrier of her panties. "You don't get to fuck me just yet. You get to watch."
"Just watch?"
Tennessee flashes him a grin and nods. She raises her hips up, removes her fingers from the wet front of her panties, and slides down the fabric that's covering her up. She pulls her panties off slow, teasing. Brendon wants to move, he wants to help her remove the cloth over her rounded ass and down her thighs, her wants to caress and taste, but he also likes the challenge, he likes her games and having to wait, being told that he can't have her.
Tennessee gets her panties down, removing one leg from the hole, her panties caught around her the other leg, stuck around her calf. Tennessee doesn't kick them free, too concerned with teasing Brendon. She keeps her legs pressed together, lifts them into the air, giving Brendon just a peek of her soft, slick folds. Tennessee reaches down and strokes her index finger over her pussy. Brendon swallows thickly, watching her tease herself, watching her fingers touching at her outer folds, resisting the urge to slip a digit or two into her cunt.
“Like what you see so far?” Tennessee asks him. Her voice is breathy, very turned on. Brendon nods like an idiot and thumbs at the head of cock through his boxers. Tennessee lowers her legs and smooths her hands down her thighs. She runs her fingers through the soft, gingery curls of her pubic hair. Tennessee touches at her pussy lips, opening herself up a little, allowing her thighs to widen a little for Brendon, allowing him a flash of pink skin, her beautiful cunt.
It's harder to ignore the need to go and have her. Brendon is so close to the bed, so close to Tennessee and her dripping wet slit. Tennessee spreads out in Brendon's bed, rests her head on his pillows. She seems to have had enough of teasing him, working herself up to the point where she can’t delay her actions any longer. Tennessee opens her thighs slowly, bending her knees. Her fingers slip down to her cunt, a finger on each side, opening herself up for Brendon to see.
She's so wet, and Brendon cups his dick through his boxers, grinding up against his warm palm. Brendon isn't sure whether or not he should take off his own underwear; he doesn't like clothes much, especially not when he’s hard as a rock, and he doesn't want to have a barrier between them when Tennessee is so exposed, so open for him.
Brendon dips his fingers into the waistband of his boxers and slides them down his hips, letting them slip to pool around his feet. He steps out of them and moves so that he can get a better look at Tennessee. He curls his hand around his cock, but his hand is too dry, so he rubs his thumb over the leaking head of his dick and tries to spread the precome over his fingers to help the slide.
Tennessee is watching him just as he's watching her. A show for a show, Brendon thinks, and he laughs a little to himself. His hand is still too dry and he brings his palm to his mouth, licking wide strokes across his skin to wet it. His hand tastes like sweat and his own precome, but he could care less right now.
"I like knowing I get you so hard," Tennessee says. Her accent is thicker when she's turned on, and Brendon's cock twitches as he touches himself again, giving himself a few testing strokes. He half-wishes that he could have Tenn's mouth, just a little. Maybe if he's good and watches her like she wants, then he’ll be rewarded. "I get so wet thinking of you all desperate and wanting."
Tennessee runs her fingertips lightly over her cunt, just her fingers against skin. She groans light and airy. Her thumb rubs in a slow circle over her clit, giving herself that first brush of real stimulation. Tennessee shudders and her toes curl into Brendon's sheets. Tennessee's nails are painted a sky blue, and he focuses on the way her brightly-colored fingers move over herself. She knows all of the places to touch herself, the secret spots that took Brendon weeks to figure out. Tennessee's legs are open so wide now, her pussy spread open, and she sinks two fingers into her cunt without preamble, without hesitation. She's wet enough that it's an easy slide.
"Ah," Tennessee moans happily. She draws her fingers out and then back in, fucking herself shallowly in a slow, lazy rhythm. Brendon bites his lip, his hips twitching and his cock throbbing. He squeezes his dick as he watches his girlfriend finger herself.
Tennessee is skilled at this. She removes her fingers from inside her cunt and moves to her clit, rubbing lightly, her hips arching a little. Brendon watches her pinch at her clit, squeezing at it a little, enough to have her breathing faster, her breasts heaving. Tennessee slides a hand to one breast, pinching at her hard nipple in the same way that her other hand is playing roughly with her clit.
Brendon thinks he can see her growing wetter. Her pussy isn't as open as before, but he can still see her pink slit, and it's glistening, so slick. Brendon already knows he isn't allowed to tell her what he wants to see. This is her show, her performance, and Brendon is just a captivated audience member. But he'd love to see her open again, her fingers fucking herself fast and reckless.
Tennessee brings two of her fingers -- shiny with her own juices -- up to her mouth, slipping her fingers past her lips and sucking off her own wetness. Brendon groans openly at that, his cock jerking in his hand. It’s hard to focus on himself when Tennessee is so beautiful, getting herself off just for him. Tennessee moves her fingers down again, like she knows what Brendon really wants to see. She strokes two fingers along her folds, drawing her fingers backward and forward, wet messy noises float into the air. Neither of them is embarrassed, if anything it helps. Tennessee moans open and deep when her fingers slide back into her cunt, pressing in deeper than before. Fucking herself a little faster, a little more, like Brendon would do if he were with her right now.
Tennessee bites her lip, a moan rolling from her chest.
“How’s it feel, Tenn?” Brendon can’t help but ask. He’s typically vocal during sex and Tennessee is no better.
“Fucking amazing.” Normally, Tennessee is sweet, all polite English charm, but when she’s horny, she’s as bad as a sailor. Tennessee favors her clit more than actually fucking herself. She presses her hips up against her fingers, rubbing at her clit faster than before. Tennessee is making all these noises and soft, little groans as her fingers disappear into her body.
Tennessee’s hips twitch, her thighs quaking a little. Her eyes have long since fallen closed and her body is drawn up tight, her head digging into the pillows of Brendon’s bed and her hips rolling upwards.
Brendon doesn’t know if Tennessee had been working herself up before he got home, if just imagining doing this for Brendon got her excited beforehand. With the way she’s moving, losing herself in the act, Brendon thinks that she must be close. Her hand is a blur; both of her hands are playing at her cunt. Her fingers are rubbing at her clit, fast and hard, tracing and tugging lightly at her folds. Everything is wet, slick, gorgeous, and Brendon wants her to come. He wants her to come, and he wants her to let him hold her open and lick her clean.
“Brendon,” Tennessee whines. She writhing across his sheets, sweating and swearing and moving her fingers slick over herself in double-time. “Brendon,” she mewls. “Come here.”
Brendon goes to her, his cock still in hand, fisting himself frantically to match her pace. He lets go of his cock only to kneel at the edge of the bed. He doesn’t know what she exactly wants, but he’s so much closer; he can smell her, and his cock dribbles against the sheets where it’s pressed to the mattress. Brendon reaches out and, with shaking hands, touches at her ankle, stroking his hand up along her smooth leg, touching at her thighs.
Tennessee twitches and moans. Brendon wants to join her, let his fingers fall in next to hers. Instead, he kisses at the side of her knee, letting his damp mouth move up her inner thigh, so close to where he wants to be, to taste. Brendon finds Tennessee’s panties where they’re still hanging limp and caught around her leg. He frees her of them, touching at the crotch where the fabric is wet, smelling like her.
Brendon sets the panties aside and kisses her thigh again. Tennessee is breathing harsh, her whole body a mess. Her hair is sticking to her neck and chest and her face is screwed up, her body rising, her groans louder and higher. Brendon knows she’s so close, close enough that she wouldn’t notice him touching her, but she’s already almost there all on her own.
“Brendon, fuck, Brendon, Brendon, Brendon!” Tennessee moans, and that’s it. He watches up close as her hips stutter, her fingers tripping over her soaking folds. Tennessee is practically screaming her way through her orgasm, arching, heaving, her thigh quivering under his mouth and hands like she’ll never be still again.
Brendon pulls back a little, waits until she’s breathing regulates. Tennessee is twitching, still touching herself lightly, calming her body down. Brendon is leaking against the mattress and he touches himself again, groaning lightly.
“Tennessee, that -- that was the hottest thing I’ve ever…”
Tennessee props herself up on her elbows, her hair is sticking sweat-damp to her face. She grins at him. “I’m glad you enjoyed it. I liked it, too.”
“You know what else I would like?” Brendon asks.
“Hm?” Tennessee mumbles. She’s already pushing up off the sheets, a wet spot underneath her. She moves closer to him. Brendon is already excited at the prospects of finally being able to touch.
“If I could touch you now?” he asks more than answers. Tennessee knee-walks to him, stopping right next to him and resting their foreheads together. It’s quite a contrast; Tennessee lazy and liquid-limbed and Brendon strung tight with the need to come in the same way she had.
Tennessee moves her head down to kiss him, soft and firm. Brendon slips his tongue out, pressing at the seam of her mouth. She lets him in and scoots herself closer, her fingers brushing over his where he’s curled around his cock. The head of Brendon’s dick is brushing wetly against the soft paunch of Tennessee’s stomach.
Brendon sucks in a sharp breath, letting his hips move forward in tiny thrusts, rubbing the wet against Tennessee’s stomach. She doesn’t touch his cock with her hand, but she does curl her hand over Brendon’s, helping guide him a little faster, squeezing down to get him to do the same.
They kiss and Brendon’s hips stutter. Tennessee’s other hand pets at Brendon’s hip, curls around his back, touching at his ass. Tennessee slips a finger, wet from her own juices, between Brendon’s ass cheeks, petting her finger over his hole.
That’s all Brendon needs to topple over the edge, coming hard with a full-body shudder against Tennessee’s stomach. Tennessee milks him afterwards, after his hand falls away. She finally touches him, working his cock with her damp, sticky hands until every last pearly drop is against her skin. Tennessee bites Brendon’s mouth again and then soothes the hurt with her tongue.
“Can I come home to that every night?” Brendon asks, his face resting against her shoulder, breathing into her neck.
Tennessee removes her finger from between his cheeks, lets her hand drop away from his soften dick. She kisses his temple, scratches her nails down his back lightly.
“Maybe,” she says, soft and tired, “If you’re a good boy.”
Author: pinkichan
Pairing: Brendon/Tennessee
Rating: NC-17
Summary: With Brendon locked away in the studio recording the Panic album, it leaves Tennessee a lot of time to think up special activities just for him once he gets home.
Disclaimer: They don’t belong to me and this is all totally fake
Warning: Straight up porn.
Wordcount 2884
Authors Notes: Written for the kink-bingo square of masturbation (for show.)
Brendon finds Tennessee in his bedroom. She’s spread out in his bed, the blankets and sheets kicked away, and she’s splayed out wearing nothing but her panties and one of Brendon’s t-shirts stretched across her broad shoulders.
“What are you doing, Tenn?” Brendon asks. She’s not startled. Of course she isn’t: she’s the one who left him the note downstairs on his kitchen table, after all. The note was simple, reading, "Meet me in the boudoir. Love, Tennessee." with her standard doodles of smiling hearts and a tiny smiley face making up the dot of the 'i'.
Tennessee sits up, her strawberry-blonde hair spilling around her shoulders. She smiles wide at Brendon and winks at him. “I have a present for you,” she says sweetly, so sweetly. “Do you want it right now?” she asks. Her voice is tinged light and innocent and Brendon’s cock gives a small throb. Tennessee lies down on Brendon’s bed and rolls on to her side, hand resting on her hip.
Brendon scans her body, the long solid lines, the heavy curves of her breasts and hips. Tennessee raps her fingers against her hip, plays with the band of her panties. Brendon leans against the door frame, his cock stirring in his pants already.
“I don’t know. Do I?” Brendon teases. Tennessee giggles at him, deeper than her usual bright laugh. She sits up again, touches at the hem of the t-shirt she’s wearing, and tugs it up and over her head seamlessly. She’s not wearing her bra and her tits are heavy and beautiful. Brendon has to ignore the urge to go and touch her. This is Tennessee’s game and Brendon wants to see where she’s going with it without injecting himself into it. Not yet, at least.
Tennessee bites her lip and runs her callused fingers over the hard peaks of her pink nipples. She sighs airily and leaves one hand on her breast, one thumb tweaking her nipple and the other lowering to the front of her white panties. With Brendon watching her, Tennessee rubs a finger over her slit outside of her panties. She groans a little at the touch and Brendon joins her, his cock definitely hard and straining in his pants.
“Oh, trust me,” Tennessee says, her fingers sliding over her clothed cunt. “You want this, Brendon.”
Brendon pushes away from the door frame and moves towards the bed, fiddling with his belt on the way. He undoes his jeans and frantically slides a hand inside, touching at his cock through his boxers, mimicking Tennessee’s touch. Brendon frees himself of his pants and now he’s standing there next to the bed, tenting in his boxer briefs.
Brendon leans in to kiss Tennessee. She giggles and moves back away from him. “What, I don’t get to kiss you?” Brendon asks, kneeling on the edge of the bed and trying for another kiss. Tennessee meets him halfway. Their lips brush in a sweet little kiss, her hand drifting back to her panties, rubbing a finger along the length of her slit, the fabric of her panties already slick with how turned on Tennessee is.
“It would ruin the show, Brendon,” Tennessee whispers huskily. She’s still touching herself as she meets his eyes, and Brendon sees her mouth open on a tiny gasp. He leans in and kisses her again, firmer this time, with the intent to stay. Tennessee pulls back a little, enough to catch Brendon’s bottom lip between her teeth, biting softly. Finally, Tennessee pulls away from him and settles in the middle of the bed.
"The show?"
Tennessee just smiles coyly and continues touching herself, her long, slightly thick fingers rubbing over her clit, her tantalizing cunt hidden from him by her panties. She's so wet that he can see it, and Brendon is growing that way too, the front of his boxers dampened by a few pearls of precome collecting at the tip.
Tennessee groans softly and spreads her thighs a little wider. "I've been thinking about you for hours, Brendon," she tells him, her voice a throaty whisper. "I've planned it all out just for you."
"Let me touch you, then," Brendon insists. He sounds a little desperate, but he is desperate. He's been recording so much with Spencer that he's got all of this pent-up sexual energy coiled in his veins, currently burning a hole through his boxers. All he wants right now is to bury his fingers inside of Tennessee and lick at her wet pussy, tasting her completely.
"Ah, ah, not so fast," Tennessee says, her back arching a little. Tennessee uses two of her fingers to stroke over her covered cunt a bit quicker, fingers dipping in through the barrier of her panties. "You don't get to fuck me just yet. You get to watch."
"Just watch?"
Tennessee flashes him a grin and nods. She raises her hips up, removes her fingers from the wet front of her panties, and slides down the fabric that's covering her up. She pulls her panties off slow, teasing. Brendon wants to move, he wants to help her remove the cloth over her rounded ass and down her thighs, her wants to caress and taste, but he also likes the challenge, he likes her games and having to wait, being told that he can't have her.
Tennessee gets her panties down, removing one leg from the hole, her panties caught around her the other leg, stuck around her calf. Tennessee doesn't kick them free, too concerned with teasing Brendon. She keeps her legs pressed together, lifts them into the air, giving Brendon just a peek of her soft, slick folds. Tennessee reaches down and strokes her index finger over her pussy. Brendon swallows thickly, watching her tease herself, watching her fingers touching at her outer folds, resisting the urge to slip a digit or two into her cunt.
“Like what you see so far?” Tennessee asks him. Her voice is breathy, very turned on. Brendon nods like an idiot and thumbs at the head of cock through his boxers. Tennessee lowers her legs and smooths her hands down her thighs. She runs her fingers through the soft, gingery curls of her pubic hair. Tennessee touches at her pussy lips, opening herself up a little, allowing her thighs to widen a little for Brendon, allowing him a flash of pink skin, her beautiful cunt.
It's harder to ignore the need to go and have her. Brendon is so close to the bed, so close to Tennessee and her dripping wet slit. Tennessee spreads out in Brendon's bed, rests her head on his pillows. She seems to have had enough of teasing him, working herself up to the point where she can’t delay her actions any longer. Tennessee opens her thighs slowly, bending her knees. Her fingers slip down to her cunt, a finger on each side, opening herself up for Brendon to see.
She's so wet, and Brendon cups his dick through his boxers, grinding up against his warm palm. Brendon isn't sure whether or not he should take off his own underwear; he doesn't like clothes much, especially not when he’s hard as a rock, and he doesn't want to have a barrier between them when Tennessee is so exposed, so open for him.
Brendon dips his fingers into the waistband of his boxers and slides them down his hips, letting them slip to pool around his feet. He steps out of them and moves so that he can get a better look at Tennessee. He curls his hand around his cock, but his hand is too dry, so he rubs his thumb over the leaking head of his dick and tries to spread the precome over his fingers to help the slide.
Tennessee is watching him just as he's watching her. A show for a show, Brendon thinks, and he laughs a little to himself. His hand is still too dry and he brings his palm to his mouth, licking wide strokes across his skin to wet it. His hand tastes like sweat and his own precome, but he could care less right now.
"I like knowing I get you so hard," Tennessee says. Her accent is thicker when she's turned on, and Brendon's cock twitches as he touches himself again, giving himself a few testing strokes. He half-wishes that he could have Tenn's mouth, just a little. Maybe if he's good and watches her like she wants, then he’ll be rewarded. "I get so wet thinking of you all desperate and wanting."
Tennessee runs her fingertips lightly over her cunt, just her fingers against skin. She groans light and airy. Her thumb rubs in a slow circle over her clit, giving herself that first brush of real stimulation. Tennessee shudders and her toes curl into Brendon's sheets. Tennessee's nails are painted a sky blue, and he focuses on the way her brightly-colored fingers move over herself. She knows all of the places to touch herself, the secret spots that took Brendon weeks to figure out. Tennessee's legs are open so wide now, her pussy spread open, and she sinks two fingers into her cunt without preamble, without hesitation. She's wet enough that it's an easy slide.
"Ah," Tennessee moans happily. She draws her fingers out and then back in, fucking herself shallowly in a slow, lazy rhythm. Brendon bites his lip, his hips twitching and his cock throbbing. He squeezes his dick as he watches his girlfriend finger herself.
Tennessee is skilled at this. She removes her fingers from inside her cunt and moves to her clit, rubbing lightly, her hips arching a little. Brendon watches her pinch at her clit, squeezing at it a little, enough to have her breathing faster, her breasts heaving. Tennessee slides a hand to one breast, pinching at her hard nipple in the same way that her other hand is playing roughly with her clit.
Brendon thinks he can see her growing wetter. Her pussy isn't as open as before, but he can still see her pink slit, and it's glistening, so slick. Brendon already knows he isn't allowed to tell her what he wants to see. This is her show, her performance, and Brendon is just a captivated audience member. But he'd love to see her open again, her fingers fucking herself fast and reckless.
Tennessee brings two of her fingers -- shiny with her own juices -- up to her mouth, slipping her fingers past her lips and sucking off her own wetness. Brendon groans openly at that, his cock jerking in his hand. It’s hard to focus on himself when Tennessee is so beautiful, getting herself off just for him. Tennessee moves her fingers down again, like she knows what Brendon really wants to see. She strokes two fingers along her folds, drawing her fingers backward and forward, wet messy noises float into the air. Neither of them is embarrassed, if anything it helps. Tennessee moans open and deep when her fingers slide back into her cunt, pressing in deeper than before. Fucking herself a little faster, a little more, like Brendon would do if he were with her right now.
Tennessee bites her lip, a moan rolling from her chest.
“How’s it feel, Tenn?” Brendon can’t help but ask. He’s typically vocal during sex and Tennessee is no better.
“Fucking amazing.” Normally, Tennessee is sweet, all polite English charm, but when she’s horny, she’s as bad as a sailor. Tennessee favors her clit more than actually fucking herself. She presses her hips up against her fingers, rubbing at her clit faster than before. Tennessee is making all these noises and soft, little groans as her fingers disappear into her body.
Tennessee’s hips twitch, her thighs quaking a little. Her eyes have long since fallen closed and her body is drawn up tight, her head digging into the pillows of Brendon’s bed and her hips rolling upwards.
Brendon doesn’t know if Tennessee had been working herself up before he got home, if just imagining doing this for Brendon got her excited beforehand. With the way she’s moving, losing herself in the act, Brendon thinks that she must be close. Her hand is a blur; both of her hands are playing at her cunt. Her fingers are rubbing at her clit, fast and hard, tracing and tugging lightly at her folds. Everything is wet, slick, gorgeous, and Brendon wants her to come. He wants her to come, and he wants her to let him hold her open and lick her clean.
“Brendon,” Tennessee whines. She writhing across his sheets, sweating and swearing and moving her fingers slick over herself in double-time. “Brendon,” she mewls. “Come here.”
Brendon goes to her, his cock still in hand, fisting himself frantically to match her pace. He lets go of his cock only to kneel at the edge of the bed. He doesn’t know what she exactly wants, but he’s so much closer; he can smell her, and his cock dribbles against the sheets where it’s pressed to the mattress. Brendon reaches out and, with shaking hands, touches at her ankle, stroking his hand up along her smooth leg, touching at her thighs.
Tennessee twitches and moans. Brendon wants to join her, let his fingers fall in next to hers. Instead, he kisses at the side of her knee, letting his damp mouth move up her inner thigh, so close to where he wants to be, to taste. Brendon finds Tennessee’s panties where they’re still hanging limp and caught around her leg. He frees her of them, touching at the crotch where the fabric is wet, smelling like her.
Brendon sets the panties aside and kisses her thigh again. Tennessee is breathing harsh, her whole body a mess. Her hair is sticking to her neck and chest and her face is screwed up, her body rising, her groans louder and higher. Brendon knows she’s so close, close enough that she wouldn’t notice him touching her, but she’s already almost there all on her own.
“Brendon, fuck, Brendon, Brendon, Brendon!” Tennessee moans, and that’s it. He watches up close as her hips stutter, her fingers tripping over her soaking folds. Tennessee is practically screaming her way through her orgasm, arching, heaving, her thigh quivering under his mouth and hands like she’ll never be still again.
Brendon pulls back a little, waits until she’s breathing regulates. Tennessee is twitching, still touching herself lightly, calming her body down. Brendon is leaking against the mattress and he touches himself again, groaning lightly.
“Tennessee, that -- that was the hottest thing I’ve ever…”
Tennessee props herself up on her elbows, her hair is sticking sweat-damp to her face. She grins at him. “I’m glad you enjoyed it. I liked it, too.”
“You know what else I would like?” Brendon asks.
“Hm?” Tennessee mumbles. She’s already pushing up off the sheets, a wet spot underneath her. She moves closer to him. Brendon is already excited at the prospects of finally being able to touch.
“If I could touch you now?” he asks more than answers. Tennessee knee-walks to him, stopping right next to him and resting their foreheads together. It’s quite a contrast; Tennessee lazy and liquid-limbed and Brendon strung tight with the need to come in the same way she had.
Tennessee moves her head down to kiss him, soft and firm. Brendon slips his tongue out, pressing at the seam of her mouth. She lets him in and scoots herself closer, her fingers brushing over his where he’s curled around his cock. The head of Brendon’s dick is brushing wetly against the soft paunch of Tennessee’s stomach.
Brendon sucks in a sharp breath, letting his hips move forward in tiny thrusts, rubbing the wet against Tennessee’s stomach. She doesn’t touch his cock with her hand, but she does curl her hand over Brendon’s, helping guide him a little faster, squeezing down to get him to do the same.
They kiss and Brendon’s hips stutter. Tennessee’s other hand pets at Brendon’s hip, curls around his back, touching at his ass. Tennessee slips a finger, wet from her own juices, between Brendon’s ass cheeks, petting her finger over his hole.
That’s all Brendon needs to topple over the edge, coming hard with a full-body shudder against Tennessee’s stomach. Tennessee milks him afterwards, after his hand falls away. She finally touches him, working his cock with her damp, sticky hands until every last pearly drop is against her skin. Tennessee bites Brendon’s mouth again and then soothes the hurt with her tongue.
“Can I come home to that every night?” Brendon asks, his face resting against her shoulder, breathing into her neck.
Tennessee removes her finger from between his cheeks, lets her hand drop away from his soften dick. She kisses his temple, scratches her nails down his back lightly.
“Maybe,” she says, soft and tired, “If you’re a good boy.”