right in this moment (brendon/shia, nc-17)
This bit of randomness is entirely for insunshine, because she's nicer than I am, and because my schedule is eating up my response time all of a sudden. It's hard out here for a failcase.
Right In This Moment
Brendon/Shia. NC17. 3,000 words.
The one where they're actually awful house-sitters.
Shia says, "You're in town for the whole week, right?"
"Yeah," Brendon says over the phone, sighing through the word. Shia imagines him stretching out in bed. "I'm coming tomorrow, and then, I don't know. At least a week. Maybe some more time, depending."
"Okay," Shia says. He tucks the phone between his ear and shoulder and sneaks a finger into the end of his cast, trying to scratch as he thinks. "Alright."
"Why? What's up?" Brendon says, getting that sort of hesitant edge to his voice, like he suspects Shia's up to something. It isn't like it's an incorrect hunch.
Shia takes the phone again after a minute and switches ears. He says, "Nothing. Just, a friend of mine is going on vacation."
;;
Once upon a time, after he started to get some money, Shia lived in Tujunga. His mother still lives in her own place out that way now, but Shia's got his two-bedroom in Glendale, and he considers that an upgrade. It's a step up, but it's also nowhere near being swanky enough to require gates and security and fancy lobbies. There's no one there to greet him when he gets to his house, unless it's some paparazzo with nothing better to do. He doesn't live anywhere so nice that getting to spend a few days in the new W isn't some kind of ideal opportunity.
Shia says to Brendon, "No, you met him, I think. David Steinberg? Anyway, he used to live near the hotel in Westwood, and when he found out the Hollywood spot was doing residences, he jumped on that."
"Oh, to have it made," Brendon says in the car.
Shia flicks his cigarette out of the window and pulls he down his sun visor. "I know. Fucking rich people."
That makes Brendon laugh, and Shia glances over at him, smiling.
;;
The one unfortunate part about staying at the W in Hollywood is that it's across the street from Katsuya restaurant on Vine.
"Have you ever eaten there?" Brendon asks once they get inside the building, safely escaping the flash of the cameras that had turned around for a moment.
"Nope," Shia says. "Because everybody eats there. That's what they hope for. I've ordered and David picked up a couple times. It's good food, but it's sometime s no worth the hassle."
"Mm," Brendon says thoughtfully, moving into the elevator with Shia. He leans into Shia's side while they ride up several floors, near the top. It doesn't feel like an exhausted gesture so much as Brendon taking a moment to be near, and Shia doesn't really regret these instances.
Outside of the apartment, Shia has to fumble through his duffle bag to find the keys. However, once they're inside, they both follow their first instincts and marvel at the layout. Or, honestly, Brendon marvels more, and Shia stands, sort of fascinated with his reaction, looking around the room with fresh eyes himself because of it, even though he and David watched a game here together less than a month ago.
In general, the W is made for people with expensive taste. Walking near the window and admiring the view, Brendon says, "Can you imagine having this much money?"
Shia looks around again, running his hand over the back of the couch. He's been over here a number of times, and he still can't imagine ever getting a place like this to feel like home for himself. It's nice --- really fucking nice, but maybe too rich for his blood.
He says to Brendon, "Dude, no. Kind of? Not really."
He supposes that if he really wanted to he could blow too much cash on a place like this, but he'd rather have a smaller house than a pricey place in a high-rise.
"It's crazy," Brendon says, fingers pressed to the window.
He's right, Shia thinks. "Yeah."
;;
Shia does, however, at least plan to fuck Brendon pretty much everywhere he can in this place.
;;
For some reason -- for no reason -- they start with the living room. Brendon seems to develop a quick and enthusiastic obsession with the way the windows are set-up. They're floor-to-ceiling along the terrace, and it's a small enough space that they can still see a decent amount of the city without stepping outside to the railing.
Shia fucks Brendon while they're staring out of that glass. After the sun's gone down, Los Angeles is just a litter of flickering orange lights off into the dark skyline, and he rocks into Brendon with one hand settled on Brendon's hip and the other flat over Brendon's own against the clear window pane. If it leaves a mark, they'll have to make sure to clean the windows later, but that isn't so much a concern right now when he'd much rather focus on the soft, pleased noises Brendon makes as Shia pumps his hips. It really is a perfect view of the city, and he blinks and misses it for a moment when he comes, dropping his head to Brendon's shoulder and breathing in the musky scent of his skin.
Brendon comes not too long after Shia, too. Shia drops his hand down to finish Brendon off, knocking his own fingers away and gripping tight, twisting on the upstroke, and he spins Brendon before he comes, getting the mess all over his thigh instead of the glass. Brendon kisses like it's a source of air instead of part of the reason he's left breathless. Shia touches the small of Brendon's back, bringing their hips closer. They stand in the room with their arms wrapped around one another like a slow dance instead of weakly supporting each other after a fresh fuck, and yet there's still something right about it, too, standing naked with each other and reveling in the openness of a secret anyone could see right now but that they know for sure won't occur.
;;
David's walk-in closet is about as big as the hotel room Shia and his dad shared when he was working on Even Stevens. Shia could literally live in this dude's closet. Brendon laughs so hard at the comparison that he has to place a hand against his stomach and double over.
There's really no reason for them to be in David's closet, but when a guy has one this big, it's hard to resist stepping inside and stretching out just to see if it's really possible. Brendon's several inches shorter than David, too, but he ends up wearing one of his blazers regardless and knotting a necktie around his head.
"I didn't know you could be such a shitty houseguest," Shia says, looking through David's shirts. "Get out of his stuff."
"It's not your house," Brendon says. Shia could tell him that argument doesn't actually work in his favor, but Brendon probably already knows.
Instead, Shia turns around and wraps his arms around Brendon's legs, locking them together. Brendon tries not to move, but resistance is futile, and he eventually tumbles down despite his best efforts. Shia climbs over him, pinning him and digging his fingers into Brendon's sides. He laughs and hisses interchangeably, saying, "Stop, stop, stop," rapidly, crossing his arms over himself, but Shia still gets to him.
He really hopes David's jacket isn't one of his favorites or something.
"Hey," Shia says, "hey, hey, okay --"
And Brendon takes a huge gulp air as Shia lets up, exhaling in a rush of air just as big. Shia kisses his jaw and his cheek and he strokes Brendon's sides gently now as residual laughter fades.
"What do you want? Oh," Brendon says, letting Shia kiss him. "Oh, you like me me now."
"You look like the down syndrome version of Quail Man with that tie on your head," Shia says, tugging at the fabric and making Brendon screw his face up.
"Stop," Brendon says again, dragging the word out, whining, and Shia kisses it away, lingering.
They roll over and Shia hooks a leg around the back of Brendon's, feeling selfish, but Brendon just stretches their arms above Shia's head and stays.
;;
"Do you want to up the ante?" Shia asks, like Brendon hasn't been walking around mostly naked all afternoon. It's only a slight change from this morning, when he'd been walking about completely naked. Since noon, he's put on underwear. Shia doesn't agree with that life decision, but it's happened.
Brendon stretches his arms above his head, yawning. He says, "How?"
"Pool?" Shia asks, and as Brendon's rubbing his eyes with his fingers, he smiles.
"Hot tub," he says, looking at Shia again finally.
It's not a bad suggestion.
;;
The convenient thing about the residences in the W being open a good year before they start the actual hotel services is that at night, there really isn't anyone in the pool area. On the way up to the roof, Shia stands on the opposite side of the elevator from Brendon, watching Brendon bite his lip and failing to suppress an excited smile.
He runs and jumps into the pool as soon as they reach the top. It must be cold, Shia imagines, even if the night air is warm. After a week and a half of really good fall weather, the temperature shot back up into the eighties. It makes no sense that they should be able to go swimming in the middle of January, but here they are.
While Brendon does a lap, Shia sets the jets in the hot tub bubbling and he kicks off his jeans, strips his shirt and settles into the water. He stretches his arms out along the edge, mindful of his brace and bandages, because if there's one thing that isn't so much fun, it's getting all the gauze soaked.
Brendon only put on a pair of Shia's shorts over his underwear before coming up to the roof, and he apparently hasn't bothered to take them off before diving into the pool. When he gets out and makes his way to the hot tub, dripping as he approaches, he starts to pull them down, leaving them a few feet away from the tub with a wet plop and then climbing in with Shia.
"Holy shit," he says. "This is a huge fucking difference."
"Cold?"
"In the pool, yeah," Brendon says. He drops down in the hot tub until the water covers his shoulder, and he makes his way to Shia, wading awkwardly and walking over all crouched down. He pops up sort of quickly once he reaches the edge, and Shia lifts his arm a moment to avoid any accidental splashing, looking up at Brendon's face as he settles over Shia's thighs.
"Can I help you?" Shia says, furrowing his brow as if confused, but he opens his mouth when Brendon touches his face with wet fingers and leans down to kiss him.
Brendon says, "Yes. I was promised something."
"What is that?"
Shrugging, Brendon says, "Hot sex on a platter."
It makes laughter punch from Shia, tipping his head back a bit. He says, "You're a fucking nerd."
"Good thing you're sexually attracted to nerds, then, huh?" Brendon says, wiggling his hips. Shia lets his right hand get wet, sliding along Brendon's back and down to his ass, inside the underwear.
He cups Brendon and then pushes his fingers between Brendon's cheeks, teasing and enjoying the soft, warm moan that he earns as Brendon hooks his arms arm Shia's neck loosely. The elastic of Brendon's underwear is pushing against Shia's wrist, an easy resistance, and when Brendon jerks his hips forward once, Shia can feel Brendon's cock brush against his front through his underwear.
Brendon says, "Take these off. I want to get rid of these."
It only takes his a second, backing off to push the underwear off, and they don't bother taking them out of the water. "You too," Brendon says, reaching down to touch Shia's thighs. He lifts up to allow Brendon some control and once they're pulled past Shia's knees, he kicks out of them himself and his hand automatically finds Brendon's hip again as he moves back in to straddle Shia's legs.
"No, come on," Brendon says, anxious. He moves Shia's hand back to his ass, Shia slipping his palm over the curve, but he doesn't make Brendon wait long. He presses his finger inside, always lacking a little leverage from this angle, but Brendon pushes back on to his fingers, too, working with Shia.
They've done this enough times in the last few days that it doesn't take much prep anyway. Shia gets Brendon open and greedy quickly, and Brendon turns around when Shia lets his fingers slip out. He sits in Shia's lap, Shia sinking down some in the hot tub, holding his cock, and Brendon sinks down over him in a smooth motion.
Shia never gets tired of this, of having Brendon bouncing in his lap. Brendon switches up the rhythm when he leans back, working his hips and turning his head so that he can kiss Shia. Even when they beak for breath, Brendon doesn't go far, their mouth ghosting over one another, sharing breaths, and Shia almost forgets their outside for a minute. Up here, they can see nothing but dark sky and hear none of the street noise below, so it's easy to pretend it doesn't exist.
They could be anywhere right now, anywhere in the world, and Shia thinks about a couple places, pretending but ultimately coming back to the feeling of warm water around him, Brendon riding him, and exchanging uncoordinated kisses, getting closer, closer, closer.
He mutters, "Shit," against Brendon mouth, and then again, like a warning, and Brendon says, "Fuck me. Do it," sitting forward to change the rhythm and swipes a hand over Brendon's naked back, cursing under his breath as he comes inside of him.
;;
They somehow feel even more relaxed when they get back downstairs and lounge in the bed, and Shia's feeling sentimental, maybe, so he kisses down Brendon's spine. He does the same to Brendon's fingertips when he crawls back to the top of the bed, even though he knows this kind of attention makes Brendon a little uncomfortable -- this praising scrutiny he still isn't used to receiving. But he lets Shia do it anyway, so that's something.
;;
Because they can, they have sex in the kitchen, on the floor in the den, in the bathtub, on the couch, and once in the bed. Another thing about this situation is that David was an executive producer on 'Greatest Game'. It's been a few years since they've been more than just good buddies, but there's still a young, seventeen-year-old part of Shia that gets a rush out of letting his boyfriend fuck him in what's technically his old boss's bed.
He says that to Brendon, too, in broken phrasing. He manages, "Dude -- babe," touching Brendon's arm as he snaps in quick, "I used to work for this guy," but Brendon smirks and then giggles briefly like maybe he gets it. He's sweating, forehead damp, and the indecent rush Shia feels at being here makes him giddy.
Afterward, Shia puts the sheets through the laundry, though, because they aren't quite total assholes.
;;
When they aren't busy making the most of being naked in the same room, they watch a lot of TV. They listen to a lot of music. They cook. They don't really bother trying to leave if they can help it. Shia has to get more cigarettes on Saturday morning, and when he gets back upstairs, they eat sandwiches on the terrace and fall asleep with Brendon's knees bumping into Shia's own.
Shia isn't sure how much time passes before he wakes again, but he just paws around himself for his cigarettes and manages to light it one-handed as well. Brendon's killing his left arm, but he bears the tingling for a few minutes and only has Brendon shift once he's put his cigarette out, resettling with their bodies pressed closer.
He kisses Brendon neck, and Brendon groans. He says, "That tickles," and Shia smirks against Brendon's skin.
;;
Because, other than the sex, Shia's pretty sure he's in love. So, there's that happening in the W, too.
;;
As they're double-checking to make sure they have everything before they leave, Brendon says, "This place is like a vacation spot twenty-minutes away from home."
"No joke," Shia says, turning off the kitchen light and peeking into the den as they head from the front door. "Oh, remind me to call my mom when we get down to the car. That way Brando's ready."
"We should have just brought your dog," Brendon says, stepping out into the hallway when Shia holds the front door open for him.
Shia leaves the keys on the table next to the door and locks the bottom lock from the inside before closing up. He says, "I would have if I thought I could, but Brando didn't need to be in David's space."
"When is David back?"
"Sometime tonight."
"We should have just brought Brando anyway," Brendon says. He walks backwards down the hall a few paces, and then turns around, sliding his arm around Shia's back when they're side-by-side. "I love that dog."
"Yeah, he's into you too. You feed him table scraps when I'm not looking."
"No, I don't," Brendon says, and then laughs when Shia gives him a sidelong glance. "Not all the time."
"Mhm," Shia says, lifting his own arm and draping it over Brendon's shoulder. He pulls Brendon in closer for a moment, kissing the side of his face. "Thanks for hanging out with me."
"Thanks for inviting me while you house-sit for your posh friends," Brendon says. "Hey."
Shia turns his head again and obliges when Brendon lifts his chin slightly, kissing him. Shia looks at a couple of the doors they pass on the way to the main elevators, thinking for a minute. He says, "I could buy a place like this."
Brendon snorts. "You wouldn't," he says, and Shia smiles.
"How do you know? You think you know something about me?" he says, failing to seem at all sarcastic with the stupid fucking grin on his face.
Brendon steps back as they reach the end of the center of the floor, pressing the down button for the elevators. He says, "You won't even shave now that you don't have to work for a while. This place isn't your style."
"Nah. I guess not," Shia says. He reaches out for Brendon's hand again, getting the fingers tangles in his own and he pulls Brendon back toward him, saying, "C'mere," and kissing his forehead as they stand together, comfortable in a loose embrace and waiting to reach the outside again.
Right In This Moment
Brendon/Shia. NC17. 3,000 words.
The one where they're actually awful house-sitters.
Shia says, "You're in town for the whole week, right?"
"Yeah," Brendon says over the phone, sighing through the word. Shia imagines him stretching out in bed. "I'm coming tomorrow, and then, I don't know. At least a week. Maybe some more time, depending."
"Okay," Shia says. He tucks the phone between his ear and shoulder and sneaks a finger into the end of his cast, trying to scratch as he thinks. "Alright."
"Why? What's up?" Brendon says, getting that sort of hesitant edge to his voice, like he suspects Shia's up to something. It isn't like it's an incorrect hunch.
Shia takes the phone again after a minute and switches ears. He says, "Nothing. Just, a friend of mine is going on vacation."
;;
Once upon a time, after he started to get some money, Shia lived in Tujunga. His mother still lives in her own place out that way now, but Shia's got his two-bedroom in Glendale, and he considers that an upgrade. It's a step up, but it's also nowhere near being swanky enough to require gates and security and fancy lobbies. There's no one there to greet him when he gets to his house, unless it's some paparazzo with nothing better to do. He doesn't live anywhere so nice that getting to spend a few days in the new W isn't some kind of ideal opportunity.
Shia says to Brendon, "No, you met him, I think. David Steinberg? Anyway, he used to live near the hotel in Westwood, and when he found out the Hollywood spot was doing residences, he jumped on that."
"Oh, to have it made," Brendon says in the car.
Shia flicks his cigarette out of the window and pulls he down his sun visor. "I know. Fucking rich people."
That makes Brendon laugh, and Shia glances over at him, smiling.
;;
The one unfortunate part about staying at the W in Hollywood is that it's across the street from Katsuya restaurant on Vine.
"Have you ever eaten there?" Brendon asks once they get inside the building, safely escaping the flash of the cameras that had turned around for a moment.
"Nope," Shia says. "Because everybody eats there. That's what they hope for. I've ordered and David picked up a couple times. It's good food, but it's sometime s no worth the hassle."
"Mm," Brendon says thoughtfully, moving into the elevator with Shia. He leans into Shia's side while they ride up several floors, near the top. It doesn't feel like an exhausted gesture so much as Brendon taking a moment to be near, and Shia doesn't really regret these instances.
Outside of the apartment, Shia has to fumble through his duffle bag to find the keys. However, once they're inside, they both follow their first instincts and marvel at the layout. Or, honestly, Brendon marvels more, and Shia stands, sort of fascinated with his reaction, looking around the room with fresh eyes himself because of it, even though he and David watched a game here together less than a month ago.
In general, the W is made for people with expensive taste. Walking near the window and admiring the view, Brendon says, "Can you imagine having this much money?"
Shia looks around again, running his hand over the back of the couch. He's been over here a number of times, and he still can't imagine ever getting a place like this to feel like home for himself. It's nice --- really fucking nice, but maybe too rich for his blood.
He says to Brendon, "Dude, no. Kind of? Not really."
He supposes that if he really wanted to he could blow too much cash on a place like this, but he'd rather have a smaller house than a pricey place in a high-rise.
"It's crazy," Brendon says, fingers pressed to the window.
He's right, Shia thinks. "Yeah."
;;
Shia does, however, at least plan to fuck Brendon pretty much everywhere he can in this place.
;;
For some reason -- for no reason -- they start with the living room. Brendon seems to develop a quick and enthusiastic obsession with the way the windows are set-up. They're floor-to-ceiling along the terrace, and it's a small enough space that they can still see a decent amount of the city without stepping outside to the railing.
Shia fucks Brendon while they're staring out of that glass. After the sun's gone down, Los Angeles is just a litter of flickering orange lights off into the dark skyline, and he rocks into Brendon with one hand settled on Brendon's hip and the other flat over Brendon's own against the clear window pane. If it leaves a mark, they'll have to make sure to clean the windows later, but that isn't so much a concern right now when he'd much rather focus on the soft, pleased noises Brendon makes as Shia pumps his hips. It really is a perfect view of the city, and he blinks and misses it for a moment when he comes, dropping his head to Brendon's shoulder and breathing in the musky scent of his skin.
Brendon comes not too long after Shia, too. Shia drops his hand down to finish Brendon off, knocking his own fingers away and gripping tight, twisting on the upstroke, and he spins Brendon before he comes, getting the mess all over his thigh instead of the glass. Brendon kisses like it's a source of air instead of part of the reason he's left breathless. Shia touches the small of Brendon's back, bringing their hips closer. They stand in the room with their arms wrapped around one another like a slow dance instead of weakly supporting each other after a fresh fuck, and yet there's still something right about it, too, standing naked with each other and reveling in the openness of a secret anyone could see right now but that they know for sure won't occur.
;;
David's walk-in closet is about as big as the hotel room Shia and his dad shared when he was working on Even Stevens. Shia could literally live in this dude's closet. Brendon laughs so hard at the comparison that he has to place a hand against his stomach and double over.
There's really no reason for them to be in David's closet, but when a guy has one this big, it's hard to resist stepping inside and stretching out just to see if it's really possible. Brendon's several inches shorter than David, too, but he ends up wearing one of his blazers regardless and knotting a necktie around his head.
"I didn't know you could be such a shitty houseguest," Shia says, looking through David's shirts. "Get out of his stuff."
"It's not your house," Brendon says. Shia could tell him that argument doesn't actually work in his favor, but Brendon probably already knows.
Instead, Shia turns around and wraps his arms around Brendon's legs, locking them together. Brendon tries not to move, but resistance is futile, and he eventually tumbles down despite his best efforts. Shia climbs over him, pinning him and digging his fingers into Brendon's sides. He laughs and hisses interchangeably, saying, "Stop, stop, stop," rapidly, crossing his arms over himself, but Shia still gets to him.
He really hopes David's jacket isn't one of his favorites or something.
"Hey," Shia says, "hey, hey, okay --"
And Brendon takes a huge gulp air as Shia lets up, exhaling in a rush of air just as big. Shia kisses his jaw and his cheek and he strokes Brendon's sides gently now as residual laughter fades.
"What do you want? Oh," Brendon says, letting Shia kiss him. "Oh, you like me me now."
"You look like the down syndrome version of Quail Man with that tie on your head," Shia says, tugging at the fabric and making Brendon screw his face up.
"Stop," Brendon says again, dragging the word out, whining, and Shia kisses it away, lingering.
They roll over and Shia hooks a leg around the back of Brendon's, feeling selfish, but Brendon just stretches their arms above Shia's head and stays.
;;
"Do you want to up the ante?" Shia asks, like Brendon hasn't been walking around mostly naked all afternoon. It's only a slight change from this morning, when he'd been walking about completely naked. Since noon, he's put on underwear. Shia doesn't agree with that life decision, but it's happened.
Brendon stretches his arms above his head, yawning. He says, "How?"
"Pool?" Shia asks, and as Brendon's rubbing his eyes with his fingers, he smiles.
"Hot tub," he says, looking at Shia again finally.
It's not a bad suggestion.
;;
The convenient thing about the residences in the W being open a good year before they start the actual hotel services is that at night, there really isn't anyone in the pool area. On the way up to the roof, Shia stands on the opposite side of the elevator from Brendon, watching Brendon bite his lip and failing to suppress an excited smile.
He runs and jumps into the pool as soon as they reach the top. It must be cold, Shia imagines, even if the night air is warm. After a week and a half of really good fall weather, the temperature shot back up into the eighties. It makes no sense that they should be able to go swimming in the middle of January, but here they are.
While Brendon does a lap, Shia sets the jets in the hot tub bubbling and he kicks off his jeans, strips his shirt and settles into the water. He stretches his arms out along the edge, mindful of his brace and bandages, because if there's one thing that isn't so much fun, it's getting all the gauze soaked.
Brendon only put on a pair of Shia's shorts over his underwear before coming up to the roof, and he apparently hasn't bothered to take them off before diving into the pool. When he gets out and makes his way to the hot tub, dripping as he approaches, he starts to pull them down, leaving them a few feet away from the tub with a wet plop and then climbing in with Shia.
"Holy shit," he says. "This is a huge fucking difference."
"Cold?"
"In the pool, yeah," Brendon says. He drops down in the hot tub until the water covers his shoulder, and he makes his way to Shia, wading awkwardly and walking over all crouched down. He pops up sort of quickly once he reaches the edge, and Shia lifts his arm a moment to avoid any accidental splashing, looking up at Brendon's face as he settles over Shia's thighs.
"Can I help you?" Shia says, furrowing his brow as if confused, but he opens his mouth when Brendon touches his face with wet fingers and leans down to kiss him.
Brendon says, "Yes. I was promised something."
"What is that?"
Shrugging, Brendon says, "Hot sex on a platter."
It makes laughter punch from Shia, tipping his head back a bit. He says, "You're a fucking nerd."
"Good thing you're sexually attracted to nerds, then, huh?" Brendon says, wiggling his hips. Shia lets his right hand get wet, sliding along Brendon's back and down to his ass, inside the underwear.
He cups Brendon and then pushes his fingers between Brendon's cheeks, teasing and enjoying the soft, warm moan that he earns as Brendon hooks his arms arm Shia's neck loosely. The elastic of Brendon's underwear is pushing against Shia's wrist, an easy resistance, and when Brendon jerks his hips forward once, Shia can feel Brendon's cock brush against his front through his underwear.
Brendon says, "Take these off. I want to get rid of these."
It only takes his a second, backing off to push the underwear off, and they don't bother taking them out of the water. "You too," Brendon says, reaching down to touch Shia's thighs. He lifts up to allow Brendon some control and once they're pulled past Shia's knees, he kicks out of them himself and his hand automatically finds Brendon's hip again as he moves back in to straddle Shia's legs.
"No, come on," Brendon says, anxious. He moves Shia's hand back to his ass, Shia slipping his palm over the curve, but he doesn't make Brendon wait long. He presses his finger inside, always lacking a little leverage from this angle, but Brendon pushes back on to his fingers, too, working with Shia.
They've done this enough times in the last few days that it doesn't take much prep anyway. Shia gets Brendon open and greedy quickly, and Brendon turns around when Shia lets his fingers slip out. He sits in Shia's lap, Shia sinking down some in the hot tub, holding his cock, and Brendon sinks down over him in a smooth motion.
Shia never gets tired of this, of having Brendon bouncing in his lap. Brendon switches up the rhythm when he leans back, working his hips and turning his head so that he can kiss Shia. Even when they beak for breath, Brendon doesn't go far, their mouth ghosting over one another, sharing breaths, and Shia almost forgets their outside for a minute. Up here, they can see nothing but dark sky and hear none of the street noise below, so it's easy to pretend it doesn't exist.
They could be anywhere right now, anywhere in the world, and Shia thinks about a couple places, pretending but ultimately coming back to the feeling of warm water around him, Brendon riding him, and exchanging uncoordinated kisses, getting closer, closer, closer.
He mutters, "Shit," against Brendon mouth, and then again, like a warning, and Brendon says, "Fuck me. Do it," sitting forward to change the rhythm and swipes a hand over Brendon's naked back, cursing under his breath as he comes inside of him.
;;
They somehow feel even more relaxed when they get back downstairs and lounge in the bed, and Shia's feeling sentimental, maybe, so he kisses down Brendon's spine. He does the same to Brendon's fingertips when he crawls back to the top of the bed, even though he knows this kind of attention makes Brendon a little uncomfortable -- this praising scrutiny he still isn't used to receiving. But he lets Shia do it anyway, so that's something.
;;
Because they can, they have sex in the kitchen, on the floor in the den, in the bathtub, on the couch, and once in the bed. Another thing about this situation is that David was an executive producer on 'Greatest Game'. It's been a few years since they've been more than just good buddies, but there's still a young, seventeen-year-old part of Shia that gets a rush out of letting his boyfriend fuck him in what's technically his old boss's bed.
He says that to Brendon, too, in broken phrasing. He manages, "Dude -- babe," touching Brendon's arm as he snaps in quick, "I used to work for this guy," but Brendon smirks and then giggles briefly like maybe he gets it. He's sweating, forehead damp, and the indecent rush Shia feels at being here makes him giddy.
Afterward, Shia puts the sheets through the laundry, though, because they aren't quite total assholes.
;;
When they aren't busy making the most of being naked in the same room, they watch a lot of TV. They listen to a lot of music. They cook. They don't really bother trying to leave if they can help it. Shia has to get more cigarettes on Saturday morning, and when he gets back upstairs, they eat sandwiches on the terrace and fall asleep with Brendon's knees bumping into Shia's own.
Shia isn't sure how much time passes before he wakes again, but he just paws around himself for his cigarettes and manages to light it one-handed as well. Brendon's killing his left arm, but he bears the tingling for a few minutes and only has Brendon shift once he's put his cigarette out, resettling with their bodies pressed closer.
He kisses Brendon neck, and Brendon groans. He says, "That tickles," and Shia smirks against Brendon's skin.
;;
Because, other than the sex, Shia's pretty sure he's in love. So, there's that happening in the W, too.
;;
As they're double-checking to make sure they have everything before they leave, Brendon says, "This place is like a vacation spot twenty-minutes away from home."
"No joke," Shia says, turning off the kitchen light and peeking into the den as they head from the front door. "Oh, remind me to call my mom when we get down to the car. That way Brando's ready."
"We should have just brought your dog," Brendon says, stepping out into the hallway when Shia holds the front door open for him.
Shia leaves the keys on the table next to the door and locks the bottom lock from the inside before closing up. He says, "I would have if I thought I could, but Brando didn't need to be in David's space."
"When is David back?"
"Sometime tonight."
"We should have just brought Brando anyway," Brendon says. He walks backwards down the hall a few paces, and then turns around, sliding his arm around Shia's back when they're side-by-side. "I love that dog."
"Yeah, he's into you too. You feed him table scraps when I'm not looking."
"No, I don't," Brendon says, and then laughs when Shia gives him a sidelong glance. "Not all the time."
"Mhm," Shia says, lifting his own arm and draping it over Brendon's shoulder. He pulls Brendon in closer for a moment, kissing the side of his face. "Thanks for hanging out with me."
"Thanks for inviting me while you house-sit for your posh friends," Brendon says. "Hey."
Shia turns his head again and obliges when Brendon lifts his chin slightly, kissing him. Shia looks at a couple of the doors they pass on the way to the main elevators, thinking for a minute. He says, "I could buy a place like this."
Brendon snorts. "You wouldn't," he says, and Shia smiles.
"How do you know? You think you know something about me?" he says, failing to seem at all sarcastic with the stupid fucking grin on his face.
Brendon steps back as they reach the end of the center of the floor, pressing the down button for the elevators. He says, "You won't even shave now that you don't have to work for a while. This place isn't your style."
"Nah. I guess not," Shia says. He reaches out for Brendon's hand again, getting the fingers tangles in his own and he pulls Brendon back toward him, saying, "C'mere," and kissing his forehead as they stand together, comfortable in a loose embrace and waiting to reach the outside again.