[bandom] FIC: "Hold Still," Spencer/Brendon, NC17
Title: Hold Still
Pairing: Spencer/Brendon
Rating: NC17
Summary: "Well, it's not like you can maim me with the shaving cream."
Warnings: Surprise shaving kink!
Notes: For Porn Battle VI. Prompts: "care," "bathtub." Thanks to fiddleyoumust for enabling, to lyo for reminding me several times that my kink is totally okay, and to hegemony for the snappy, thoughtful beta. 1500 words.
***
"You do realize how ridiculous this is, right?" Brendon says, tapping his fingertips against the edge of the bathtub as Spencer pushes his thighs apart.
Spencer frowns. "It is not."
"No, no, it isn't-I didn't mean it like that, it's just." He reaches down and skritches his fingers through the two weeks' worth of accumulated stubble on Spencer's face. "Kind of ironic."
"Shut up; you love the beard," Spencer says. He rubs his face against the sensitive skin of Brendon's inner thigh to prove his point, smirking triumphantly when he hears Brendon's breath catch. Oh yeah, Brendon loves the beard. Spencer is seriously considering making the beard permanent, rather than just a function of his laziness.
"I do," Brendon says. "I really, really do. But it makes your objections to my, uh, grooming routine a little...hollow."
"You have no grooming routine right now," Spencer complains. "That's the entire problem."
"Dude, we're in a cabin in the middle of nowhere. I don't need a grooming routine."
"Do so," Spencer says, biting softly at Brendon's thigh for emphasis. "You're an obscenity waiting to happen without one. It's distracting."
"I repeat: cabin in the middle of nowhere. And maybe I like you distracted."
Spencer narrows his eyes. "Maybe I like being able to perform simple everyday tasks without having to work around you being a walking advertisement for sex. Just a thought."
Brendon grins, smug. "Hey, if you think that a little manscaping will make me less distracting, knock yourself out. I'm warning you, though; I'm pretty fucking sexy."
"Yeah, yeah," Spencer says. "Keep it in your pants, Casanova."
"I'm not wearing any pants!" Brendon sounds very, very pleased with himself.
Spencer can't help but smile. "I'm well aware of that, Bren. Now hand me the shave gel."
Brendon obligingly hands down the can of shaving gel. "I still think this is ridiculous."
"I'm well aware of that, too." He hums as he dips a clean washcloth into the bowl of hot water by Brendon's left foot and then swipes it over Brendon's crotch, getting the close-trimmed hair wet. "It's not my fault you didn't do it right when I asked."
"If you want something done right, get Spencer Smith to do it," Brendon quips.
"Oh, and you obviously mind so much," Spencer says, dropping the washcloth and running his knuckles purposefully over Brendon's half-hard cock.
Brendon rolls his eyes. "Your mouth has been, like, practically right on top of my dick for the past five minutes. Give me a break."
Spencer's only response is to lean forward and give the base of Brendon's cock a wet, lingering kiss, smirking when Brendon makes a tiny noise and shifts restlessly. "Hold still," he scolds, dispensing some of the shave gel onto his damp fingers.
"I don't have to hold still yet," Brendon points out.
"Yes, you do," Spencer says.
"Well, it's not like you can maim me with the shaving cream."
Spencer arches an eyebrow-are you sure about that?-and when Brendon just clownishly mirrors the expression back at him, he says, "I can always refuse to blow you after we're done."
"You wouldn't," Brendon scoffs, but he bites his lip and forces himself to go totally, completely still anyway. Spencer grins, nodding his approval, and starts lathering up Brendon's lower belly.
He can feel the tension in Brendon's spread thighs as he reaches for the razor and dips it in the bowl, and he forces away his own fluttering nerves at the possibility that he's going to fuck up and end up cutting Brendon, doing his best to smile reassuringly as he sets the blade against Brendon's skin. "Calm down," he says, waiting until Brendon exhales shakily to drag the razor forward, revealing a swath of smooth, pale skin.
"I'm as calm as I'm gonna get when there's a very sharp object two inches from my junk. You calm down."
"I'm perfectly calm, and that was more like four inches," Spencer says. He makes another pass with the blade. "Now it's two."
Brendon huffs out a breathless little laugh. "Are we done?"
Spencer kisses Brendon's knee as he rinses the blade. "Not even close," he says.
Looking down, Brendon says, "You sure? I think you got the, uh, objectionable part."
"I never said it was objectionable." Another stroke of the razor. "Just distracting."
"Okay, well, there's nothing left to distract you now. Not if I'm wearing pants."
"I'm not so sure about that," Spencer says. He gently touches the expanse of shaved-bare skin below Brendon's navel and drags his fingers south, wrapping slippery fingers around Brendon's dick. He's fully hard now, flushed and twitching, and his head tips back as Spencer touches him, obviously fighting the urge to thrust up into Spencer's grip.
"Spence," he breathes, talking to the bathroom's low ceiling. "Come on, this is-"
It's really, really fucking hot, is what it is. Spencer swallows hard and ignores the needy throb of his own cock in his boxers. "Just hold still," he says again, and holds Brendon's cock out of the way so he can shave around the base.
Brendon moans softly and adjusts his white-knuckled grip on the lip of the tub, but he doesn't move anything else; the muscles in his stomach tremble visibly with the effort.
Spencer lets go of Brendon's dick to grab the shave gel again, trying to concentrate on finishing up, pointedly not looking at the slight flush on Brendon's chest or the way Brendon's bottom lip is swollen from the touch of his teeth. Brendon inhales sharply when the razor touches the crease of his thigh, chokes on another moan as Spencer carefully-so fucking carefully-shaves his balls.
"There, done, it's-" Spencer says, letting the razor clatter to the floor, fumbling for the washcloth. It's not warm anymore, and Brendon gasps and clutches at Spencer's shoulder as Spencer wipes the last of the shaving cream off.
"Please," he cries, pulling Spencer closer, shifting his ass on the edge of the bathtub.
"Yeah, yeah, just," Spencer says, leaning in. He lets his eyes flutter shut as he sucks Brendon's cock into his mouth.
Brendon tastes like salt and musk and like the shave gel smells; it's weird, jarring, but the sounds he's making are familiar, throaty and desperate, his voice breaking on Spencer's name as his hips snap up to meet Spencer's mouth. The hand on Spencer's shoulder moves to tangle in his hair, and Spencer only avoids gagging by hastily curling his fingers around the base of Brendon's dick. Then Spencer moans, because there's no rasp of pubic hair against his fingers, only smooth, damp skin.
"Fuck, Jesus," Brendon moans, cock surging in Spencer's mouth, fingers insistent in Spencer's hair. "Spence, I'm."
Spencer moves his hand to cup Brendon's balls, opening his throat and letting Brendon fuck his mouth for the last few ragged strokes before he comes, and he's shoving a hand into his boxers before he's even swallowed Brendon's come. He pants wetly against Brendon's thigh as he jerks his cock with frantic strokes; he doesn't even realize he's closed his eyes until they fly open again, when Brendon touches his cheek.
"Spencer, hey," he says, cradling Spencer's face in his hands, looking down at him with wide eyes, and Spencer comes so hard it almost hurts.
He feels Brendon's fingers in his hair again as he comes down, petting him gently. "Holy fuck," he eventually tells Brendon's inner thigh, kissing his skin just because it's there.
"Yeah," Brendon replies.
"That was-"
"Shockingly intimate and amazingly hot," Brendon says, matter-of-fact. "Is that what you wanted?"
Spencer shakes his head. "There was no-I didn't know it would be like that. Mostly I just wanted, um." He wipes his come-sticky hand on his boxers and then reaches out to lightly stroke the bare skin of Brendon's groin before leaning in to kiss the same place he kissed earlier, just at the base of Brendon's cock. He rubs his face over the spot, letting his beard scratch gently over the sensitive skin, and smiles when Brendon gasps.
"You are such a freak," Brendon says fondly, but there's a breathy thread of arousal in his tone, and his dick is perking up again.
"Maybe so," Spencer agrees, reluctantly rocking back onto his heels and standing up, stumbling just a little; his knees hurt from spending too long on the cool tile of the bathroom floor.
Brendon stands a bit more gracefully and tilts his face up for a kiss, humming happily when Spencer obliges him. "My balls are going to be itchy as fuck tomorrow, you know," he murmurs against Spencer's lips.
Spencer feels his cheeks heat a little. "Sorry."
"Dude, I don't want you to apologize," Brendon says, reaching down to catch Spencer's hand in his, lacing their fingers together. "But I do expect you to make it up to me in advance."
Grinning, Spencer lets Brendon tug him out of the bathroom and towards the bed.
***
Pairing: Spencer/Brendon
Rating: NC17
Summary: "Well, it's not like you can maim me with the shaving cream."
Warnings: Surprise shaving kink!
Notes: For Porn Battle VI. Prompts: "care," "bathtub." Thanks to fiddleyoumust for enabling, to lyo for reminding me several times that my kink is totally okay, and to hegemony for the snappy, thoughtful beta. 1500 words.
***
"You do realize how ridiculous this is, right?" Brendon says, tapping his fingertips against the edge of the bathtub as Spencer pushes his thighs apart.
Spencer frowns. "It is not."
"No, no, it isn't-I didn't mean it like that, it's just." He reaches down and skritches his fingers through the two weeks' worth of accumulated stubble on Spencer's face. "Kind of ironic."
"Shut up; you love the beard," Spencer says. He rubs his face against the sensitive skin of Brendon's inner thigh to prove his point, smirking triumphantly when he hears Brendon's breath catch. Oh yeah, Brendon loves the beard. Spencer is seriously considering making the beard permanent, rather than just a function of his laziness.
"I do," Brendon says. "I really, really do. But it makes your objections to my, uh, grooming routine a little...hollow."
"You have no grooming routine right now," Spencer complains. "That's the entire problem."
"Dude, we're in a cabin in the middle of nowhere. I don't need a grooming routine."
"Do so," Spencer says, biting softly at Brendon's thigh for emphasis. "You're an obscenity waiting to happen without one. It's distracting."
"I repeat: cabin in the middle of nowhere. And maybe I like you distracted."
Spencer narrows his eyes. "Maybe I like being able to perform simple everyday tasks without having to work around you being a walking advertisement for sex. Just a thought."
Brendon grins, smug. "Hey, if you think that a little manscaping will make me less distracting, knock yourself out. I'm warning you, though; I'm pretty fucking sexy."
"Yeah, yeah," Spencer says. "Keep it in your pants, Casanova."
"I'm not wearing any pants!" Brendon sounds very, very pleased with himself.
Spencer can't help but smile. "I'm well aware of that, Bren. Now hand me the shave gel."
Brendon obligingly hands down the can of shaving gel. "I still think this is ridiculous."
"I'm well aware of that, too." He hums as he dips a clean washcloth into the bowl of hot water by Brendon's left foot and then swipes it over Brendon's crotch, getting the close-trimmed hair wet. "It's not my fault you didn't do it right when I asked."
"If you want something done right, get Spencer Smith to do it," Brendon quips.
"Oh, and you obviously mind so much," Spencer says, dropping the washcloth and running his knuckles purposefully over Brendon's half-hard cock.
Brendon rolls his eyes. "Your mouth has been, like, practically right on top of my dick for the past five minutes. Give me a break."
Spencer's only response is to lean forward and give the base of Brendon's cock a wet, lingering kiss, smirking when Brendon makes a tiny noise and shifts restlessly. "Hold still," he scolds, dispensing some of the shave gel onto his damp fingers.
"I don't have to hold still yet," Brendon points out.
"Yes, you do," Spencer says.
"Well, it's not like you can maim me with the shaving cream."
Spencer arches an eyebrow-are you sure about that?-and when Brendon just clownishly mirrors the expression back at him, he says, "I can always refuse to blow you after we're done."
"You wouldn't," Brendon scoffs, but he bites his lip and forces himself to go totally, completely still anyway. Spencer grins, nodding his approval, and starts lathering up Brendon's lower belly.
He can feel the tension in Brendon's spread thighs as he reaches for the razor and dips it in the bowl, and he forces away his own fluttering nerves at the possibility that he's going to fuck up and end up cutting Brendon, doing his best to smile reassuringly as he sets the blade against Brendon's skin. "Calm down," he says, waiting until Brendon exhales shakily to drag the razor forward, revealing a swath of smooth, pale skin.
"I'm as calm as I'm gonna get when there's a very sharp object two inches from my junk. You calm down."
"I'm perfectly calm, and that was more like four inches," Spencer says. He makes another pass with the blade. "Now it's two."
Brendon huffs out a breathless little laugh. "Are we done?"
Spencer kisses Brendon's knee as he rinses the blade. "Not even close," he says.
Looking down, Brendon says, "You sure? I think you got the, uh, objectionable part."
"I never said it was objectionable." Another stroke of the razor. "Just distracting."
"Okay, well, there's nothing left to distract you now. Not if I'm wearing pants."
"I'm not so sure about that," Spencer says. He gently touches the expanse of shaved-bare skin below Brendon's navel and drags his fingers south, wrapping slippery fingers around Brendon's dick. He's fully hard now, flushed and twitching, and his head tips back as Spencer touches him, obviously fighting the urge to thrust up into Spencer's grip.
"Spence," he breathes, talking to the bathroom's low ceiling. "Come on, this is-"
It's really, really fucking hot, is what it is. Spencer swallows hard and ignores the needy throb of his own cock in his boxers. "Just hold still," he says again, and holds Brendon's cock out of the way so he can shave around the base.
Brendon moans softly and adjusts his white-knuckled grip on the lip of the tub, but he doesn't move anything else; the muscles in his stomach tremble visibly with the effort.
Spencer lets go of Brendon's dick to grab the shave gel again, trying to concentrate on finishing up, pointedly not looking at the slight flush on Brendon's chest or the way Brendon's bottom lip is swollen from the touch of his teeth. Brendon inhales sharply when the razor touches the crease of his thigh, chokes on another moan as Spencer carefully-so fucking carefully-shaves his balls.
"There, done, it's-" Spencer says, letting the razor clatter to the floor, fumbling for the washcloth. It's not warm anymore, and Brendon gasps and clutches at Spencer's shoulder as Spencer wipes the last of the shaving cream off.
"Please," he cries, pulling Spencer closer, shifting his ass on the edge of the bathtub.
"Yeah, yeah, just," Spencer says, leaning in. He lets his eyes flutter shut as he sucks Brendon's cock into his mouth.
Brendon tastes like salt and musk and like the shave gel smells; it's weird, jarring, but the sounds he's making are familiar, throaty and desperate, his voice breaking on Spencer's name as his hips snap up to meet Spencer's mouth. The hand on Spencer's shoulder moves to tangle in his hair, and Spencer only avoids gagging by hastily curling his fingers around the base of Brendon's dick. Then Spencer moans, because there's no rasp of pubic hair against his fingers, only smooth, damp skin.
"Fuck, Jesus," Brendon moans, cock surging in Spencer's mouth, fingers insistent in Spencer's hair. "Spence, I'm."
Spencer moves his hand to cup Brendon's balls, opening his throat and letting Brendon fuck his mouth for the last few ragged strokes before he comes, and he's shoving a hand into his boxers before he's even swallowed Brendon's come. He pants wetly against Brendon's thigh as he jerks his cock with frantic strokes; he doesn't even realize he's closed his eyes until they fly open again, when Brendon touches his cheek.
"Spencer, hey," he says, cradling Spencer's face in his hands, looking down at him with wide eyes, and Spencer comes so hard it almost hurts.
He feels Brendon's fingers in his hair again as he comes down, petting him gently. "Holy fuck," he eventually tells Brendon's inner thigh, kissing his skin just because it's there.
"Yeah," Brendon replies.
"That was-"
"Shockingly intimate and amazingly hot," Brendon says, matter-of-fact. "Is that what you wanted?"
Spencer shakes his head. "There was no-I didn't know it would be like that. Mostly I just wanted, um." He wipes his come-sticky hand on his boxers and then reaches out to lightly stroke the bare skin of Brendon's groin before leaning in to kiss the same place he kissed earlier, just at the base of Brendon's cock. He rubs his face over the spot, letting his beard scratch gently over the sensitive skin, and smiles when Brendon gasps.
"You are such a freak," Brendon says fondly, but there's a breathy thread of arousal in his tone, and his dick is perking up again.
"Maybe so," Spencer agrees, reluctantly rocking back onto his heels and standing up, stumbling just a little; his knees hurt from spending too long on the cool tile of the bathroom floor.
Brendon stands a bit more gracefully and tilts his face up for a kiss, humming happily when Spencer obliges him. "My balls are going to be itchy as fuck tomorrow, you know," he murmurs against Spencer's lips.
Spencer feels his cheeks heat a little. "Sorry."
"Dude, I don't want you to apologize," Brendon says, reaching down to catch Spencer's hand in his, lacing their fingers together. "But I do expect you to make it up to me in advance."
Grinning, Spencer lets Brendon tug him out of the bathroom and towards the bed.
***