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HI GUYS so it's Christmas (still Eve for some of you not on the east coast) and I wrote Christmas fic for 1st_eggokage because she is great and I love her lots and I never give her presents for anything. BUT I WRITE PORN NOW so I don't have to feel as bad. Even if it's kind of sucky porn that I wrote in like two days.
HERE JUST TAKE IT.
If This Scene Were a Parish (It Would Be the Best Parish Ever)
RATED NC-17 AHAHA YOU GUYS I WRITE PORN.
Pairings: Brendon/Spencer (Jon/Ryan)
Warnings: May contain inaccurate depictions of both marijuana and angels. Also sex. \o/
Summary: Spencer's life is hard and full of angels. And Ryan Rosses. And more different angels with weed. Okay, maybe his life isn't that hard.
Disclaimer: THIS DID NOT HAPPEN, IF YOU GOT HERE BY GOOGLING YOURSELF OTHER PEOPLE WRITE WAY BETTER PORN THAN I DO, GO FIND THEM.
Notes: Set in the angelverse I may or may not have mentioned at some point. Basically Brendon is a fallen angel who tripped and fell out of heaven and is living in Spencer and Ryan's apartment. Also Jon is an angel too. Yeah. It gets more ridiculous the more details I give you, don't even ask. THIS IS FOR SARA ANYWAY DON'T READ IT.
Most days, Spencer will come home from work to find Ryan and Jon snuggling on the couch, and Brendon either piled on top of them or trying for the thousandth time to figure out human cooking. Then, Spencer will make a sarcastic comment on whatever shitty foreign film Ryan suckered Jon into watching with him, and then start working on dinner, ignoring Brendon’s occasional attempts.
Today is not one of those days.
“Ryan?” Spencer calls when he sees the couch empty of all Ryans, Jons, and Brendons. “Brendon? You home?”
There’s a muffled giggle.
“Come on, this isn’t fucking hide and seek.” He checks the kitchen, but no, not even a pile of dirty (or broken) dishes.
He checks both bedrooms, every closet, the kitchen again, but still nothing. “Brendon, are you invisible? Fuck, please don’t tell me you can turn invisible. Please.”
Another giggle. Spencer turns around, and-oh. The bathroom. He hasn’t checked there yet.
He opens the door to get a cloud of smoke in his face, and a chorus of “Shut the door, shut the door!” while someone drags him inside by the front of his shirt.
The door shuts behind him, and now Spencer seems to be stuck in the bathroom with Brendon, Ryan, Jon, and enough smoke to make him start coughing as soon as he identifies the culprits.
“Hey, heyyyy, Spence, calm down,” Ryan says, passing the joint in his hand over to Brendon and patting Spencer on the back. “What were you saying, Brendon?”
“Me? I was…what was I saying?” Brendon turns to Jon, who’s holding a joint of his own and poking a towel back into place under the door with one flip-flop.
“Something about cats.” Jon blows smoke at Ryan, who swats it out of the way ineffectually and starts blowing smoke back.
“Oh, yeah! Spencer, we need a cat. Cats are like, holy and shit. In other cultures. Also, they’re awesome.” Brendon’s wings are visible, just enough for Spencer to see them flap lazily, and he’s holding his joint out with a grin.
Spencer rolls his eyes and takes it, knowing better to pass up on weed when Jon’s over. Jon’s weed is legendary.
“I had a cat, once,” Jon says, blowing out the smoke from another hit and watching it hang in the air. “Cute, too. Liked to sit on the windowsill and just…stare out the window.”
“That sounds more like you,” Ryan says, and Jon shrugs, his own wings fluttering without actually affecting the smoke. Fucking angels.
“Fucking angels,” Spencer says after his second hit, and Brendon and Jon giggle.
“You are.” Brendon starts clinging to Spencer’s back, nuzzling his face into the back of his neck. “Well, only one, actually. You and Ryan are fucking angels. There, that works.”
“Fuck yeah, grammar,” Ryan mumbles, apparently having taken the cue from Brendon to start leaning on Jon’s shoulder.
“You’re such a dork,” Spencer says to Ryan, but he’s a little distracted by the feeling of Brendon’s lips starting to slide down the side of his neck. Fuck, Jon’s weed hits him fast, and just those little kisses are sending tingling sensations all through him.
Spencer takes another hit and holds it, and Brendon detaches himself from Spencer’s back before stepping around and presses his mouth to Spencer’s.
Spencer’s mouth opens, half in surprise, and Brendon wraps his arms around his neck and sucks, taking the smoke into his own mouth and holding it as he breaks the kiss.
“Get a room, you guys,” Ryan says, which is completely uncalled for seeing as he’s half on top of Jon and they’re both about to topple into the bathtub. Brendon laughs, the smoke drifting out and mingling with the rest of it hanging in the air.
“That’s a good idea, actually.” Brendon grabs Spencer’s wrist and grins at him before opening the door and dragging him outside, shutting the door behind him when Ryan and Jon make angry noises.
There’s a thump and an ow, fuck! from the bathroom as Brendon pulls Spencer along to their bedroom, and Spencer guesses that the two of them finally did fall over.
“Spencer, Spencer.” Brendon’s moved his grip from Spencer’s wrist all the way up his arm and around his shoulder, and now he’s pulling Spencer on top of him as he falls backwards onto the bed.
“What, what?” Spencer grins, draping himself on top of Brendon and feeling every inch of the body underneath him. Their legs are still hanging over the side of the bed, but Spencer’s not letting go so they can move themselves up and Brendon’s still holding on to the back of his neck.
“I dunno.” Brendon giggles, and Spencer giggles back, and then Spencer’s sucking on Brendon’s neck and Brendon’s giggle turns into a soft groan.
He stays there for a while, marking his neck with his lips and teeth and taking in Brendon’s scent-he smells like weed and that girly deodorant he keeps stealing from Ryan and clean air and what he imagines cow pastures smell like without the cow shit-until Brendon’s putting his hands under Spencer’s shirt, tugging it up until Spencer finally lifts himself up enough to pull it off himself.
“Didn’t really need to do that,” Spencer says against Brendon’s ear before starting to slide down, kneeling between Brendon’s legs.
“I like looking at you.” Brendon sits up to watch Spencer as he starts fumbling with the buttons of his jeans-fuck these jeans, seriously, he’s never letting Ryan take Brendon shopping again if he’s just going to get these tight fuckers.
“You should just wear sweatpants,” Spencer says, struggling with the second button that Brendon doesn’t even need to fasten, “all the time.”
“But these show off my ass,” Brendon says, which, true. Spencer isn’t going to say no to anything involving Brendon’s ass.
“Wear tight sweatpants.” Spencer finally pops the second button out and undoes the zipper, and frowns when he meets his next challenge. “Also, stop wearing underwear.”
Brendon laughs and lifts his hips up to tug his jeans and underwear down, just far enough down his thighs for Spencer to take his half-hard cock in his hand as he sits back down.
“I can’t stop wearing underwear. I like underwear.” Brendon’s got one hand in Spencer’s hair already, not pushing, just running his fingers through, fiddling with the ends. “I didn’t wear underwear for centuries, I’m not going to give up that-oh.” Brendon cuts off as Spencer licks all the way up his cock, base to tip, and when Spencer looks up, his wings are translucent and spreading a little wider than before.
Spencer lets his tongue linger at the head, flicking and swirling around a few times before taking it into his mouth, and Brendon makes that little oh noise again. His hands are still in Spencer’s hair, playing with the back and sides and it’s going to be so fucked up if he keeps doing this but Spencer’s a bit too busy sucking Brendon off to care.
“Spence,” Brendon breathes, his fingers tightening in the longer parts of his hair as he starts bobbing his head a little faster, taking in a bit more with each pass. It hurts, and he should be a bit more indignant about the hair, but the noises Brendon’s making are keeping him going. At least, until Brendon’s moans start to taper off and he says, “If we had a cat, this would be the part where it walks in and stares at us.”
Spencer has to pull off so he doesn’t end up laughing hysterically around Brendon’s cock, because that might cause some kind of damage for all parties.
Brendon doesn’t even complain, just keeps continuing his thought. “And then we’d stare back, and it’d stare at us for a while, and then it would leave, and then you’d start up again and it would come back, and then eventually we’d just shut the door. Maybe we should shut the door now.”
“To keep theoretical cats from walking in?”
“You never know!”
Spencer laughs again, pressing his face to Brendon’s thigh. “How about I finish blowing you, and then we can shut the door.”
“Or, I have a better idea,” Brendon says, and starts to lift Spencer up by the shoulders, scooting back onto the bed. Spencer lets himself be moved, lets Brendon crawl on top of him once he’s settled on his back, lets Brendon pull his pants and boxers down to his ankles so Spencer can kick them off the bed. Brendon’s still got his pants only halfway down, but Spencer’s a bit preoccupied with getting Brendon back on top of him, pulling weakly on the collar of his shirt.
Brendon kisses up Spencer’s chest, stopping at a nipple for a minute to nip and suck before starting to work on Spencer’s neck, probably leaving a few marks to match the ones Spencer left on him earlier.
“I think you would’ve liked the blowjob better,” Spencer mumbles, but he doesn’t complain once Brendon starts grinding down, their cocks sliding with the added help of Spencer’s spit, and it feels amazing. Brendon takes them both in one hand and makes a few slow strokes, and Spencer starts to take off Brendon’s shirt before his wings can become solid enough to get in the way. They’re already starting to look more white than gray, and there’s a weird tingly feeling as his fingers pass through them while he lifts Brendon’s shirt over his head, only frowning a little when Brendon takes his hand off their cocks.
“Should I get these pants off?” Brendon asks once he’s started up again, and Spencer thinks about saying yes until Brendon does this thing with his hand that makes his eyes roll back and Spencer can’t really say much of anything.
“Yeah, probably not.” Brendon presses his forehead to Spencer’s and just breathes until Spencer tilts his head to kiss him, and Brendon’s rhythm falters for a few seconds as Spencer licks around and inside Brendon’s mouth.
Brendon breaks the kiss to pant against Spencer’s shoulder, muttering, “You taste like me,” and they both laugh until Brendon speeds up and they’re moaning instead.
“Brendon, I-“ Spencer says, because everything-Brendon’s hand, Brendon’s cock, Brendon’s breath, Brendon’s bite marks probably reddening on his neck-feels amazing and perfect and he has to cut himself off to gasp and come all over Brendon’s hand and his own stomach, his whole body convulsing with it. He nearly hits Brendon in the face with his shoulder.
“Spencer,” Brendon says like a reply, still stroking the both of them until it’s almost too much for Spencer. He lifts his head up to look him in the eye, and his mouth is slack, his pupils are blown more than they usually are at this point, and Spencer wishes he had his camera as Brendon jerks his hips forward and comes, his wings becoming totally solid for an instant and stretching out wide enough to nearly knock over one of the mugs on his bedside table.
Brendon stays there for a moment, holding himself up on his knees and one arm, before collapsing on top of Spencer. “Shit. I came on you, sorry,” he mumbles into his neck.
“It’s fine, it’s-you’re lying in it, you know.” Spencer would lift Brendon off to keep them from getting any grosser, but he doesn’t really want to move his arms right now.
“Yeah, well. We can just take a shower.”
“I think Ryan and Jon are still in there. Which means they won’t be leaving for a while, Ryan’s a stubborn fuck.”
“Like, a stubborn guy-with-added-expletive-for-emphasis or stubborn while fucking?” Brendon asks, still not moving his face from Spencer’s neck.
Spencer doesn’t answer for a moment, because honestly, he’s not sure which. “Both. Maybe. Are you going to fall asleep?”
“I don’t need to sleep, remember?” But Brendon’s breathing is starting to even out, and Spencer knows he doesn’t need to sleep, but he sure as hell likes to.
“We’re going to be disgusting in the morning,” Spencer mutters, but he’s already slipping, too, and Brendon just hums his assent and starts to go limp.
Spencer lets his hands travel up Brendon’s back until he can feel the faint presence of his wings, small and mostly transparent again. Brendon hums again and presses himself a little closer, and Spencer runs his hands up and down his back until Brendon falls asleep on top of him.
Most days end like this, with Brendon wrapped around him in bed, and Spencer drifting off to sleep right beside him. He has to admit, it wasn’t hard to get used to the routine.
HERE JUST TAKE IT.
If This Scene Were a Parish (It Would Be the Best Parish Ever)
RATED NC-17 AHAHA YOU GUYS I WRITE PORN.
Pairings: Brendon/Spencer (Jon/Ryan)
Warnings: May contain inaccurate depictions of both marijuana and angels. Also sex. \o/
Summary: Spencer's life is hard and full of angels. And Ryan Rosses. And more different angels with weed. Okay, maybe his life isn't that hard.
Disclaimer: THIS DID NOT HAPPEN, IF YOU GOT HERE BY GOOGLING YOURSELF OTHER PEOPLE WRITE WAY BETTER PORN THAN I DO, GO FIND THEM.
Notes: Set in the angelverse I may or may not have mentioned at some point. Basically Brendon is a fallen angel who tripped and fell out of heaven and is living in Spencer and Ryan's apartment. Also Jon is an angel too. Yeah. It gets more ridiculous the more details I give you, don't even ask. THIS IS FOR SARA ANYWAY DON'T READ IT.
Most days, Spencer will come home from work to find Ryan and Jon snuggling on the couch, and Brendon either piled on top of them or trying for the thousandth time to figure out human cooking. Then, Spencer will make a sarcastic comment on whatever shitty foreign film Ryan suckered Jon into watching with him, and then start working on dinner, ignoring Brendon’s occasional attempts.
Today is not one of those days.
“Ryan?” Spencer calls when he sees the couch empty of all Ryans, Jons, and Brendons. “Brendon? You home?”
There’s a muffled giggle.
“Come on, this isn’t fucking hide and seek.” He checks the kitchen, but no, not even a pile of dirty (or broken) dishes.
He checks both bedrooms, every closet, the kitchen again, but still nothing. “Brendon, are you invisible? Fuck, please don’t tell me you can turn invisible. Please.”
Another giggle. Spencer turns around, and-oh. The bathroom. He hasn’t checked there yet.
He opens the door to get a cloud of smoke in his face, and a chorus of “Shut the door, shut the door!” while someone drags him inside by the front of his shirt.
The door shuts behind him, and now Spencer seems to be stuck in the bathroom with Brendon, Ryan, Jon, and enough smoke to make him start coughing as soon as he identifies the culprits.
“Hey, heyyyy, Spence, calm down,” Ryan says, passing the joint in his hand over to Brendon and patting Spencer on the back. “What were you saying, Brendon?”
“Me? I was…what was I saying?” Brendon turns to Jon, who’s holding a joint of his own and poking a towel back into place under the door with one flip-flop.
“Something about cats.” Jon blows smoke at Ryan, who swats it out of the way ineffectually and starts blowing smoke back.
“Oh, yeah! Spencer, we need a cat. Cats are like, holy and shit. In other cultures. Also, they’re awesome.” Brendon’s wings are visible, just enough for Spencer to see them flap lazily, and he’s holding his joint out with a grin.
Spencer rolls his eyes and takes it, knowing better to pass up on weed when Jon’s over. Jon’s weed is legendary.
“I had a cat, once,” Jon says, blowing out the smoke from another hit and watching it hang in the air. “Cute, too. Liked to sit on the windowsill and just…stare out the window.”
“That sounds more like you,” Ryan says, and Jon shrugs, his own wings fluttering without actually affecting the smoke. Fucking angels.
“Fucking angels,” Spencer says after his second hit, and Brendon and Jon giggle.
“You are.” Brendon starts clinging to Spencer’s back, nuzzling his face into the back of his neck. “Well, only one, actually. You and Ryan are fucking angels. There, that works.”
“Fuck yeah, grammar,” Ryan mumbles, apparently having taken the cue from Brendon to start leaning on Jon’s shoulder.
“You’re such a dork,” Spencer says to Ryan, but he’s a little distracted by the feeling of Brendon’s lips starting to slide down the side of his neck. Fuck, Jon’s weed hits him fast, and just those little kisses are sending tingling sensations all through him.
Spencer takes another hit and holds it, and Brendon detaches himself from Spencer’s back before stepping around and presses his mouth to Spencer’s.
Spencer’s mouth opens, half in surprise, and Brendon wraps his arms around his neck and sucks, taking the smoke into his own mouth and holding it as he breaks the kiss.
“Get a room, you guys,” Ryan says, which is completely uncalled for seeing as he’s half on top of Jon and they’re both about to topple into the bathtub. Brendon laughs, the smoke drifting out and mingling with the rest of it hanging in the air.
“That’s a good idea, actually.” Brendon grabs Spencer’s wrist and grins at him before opening the door and dragging him outside, shutting the door behind him when Ryan and Jon make angry noises.
There’s a thump and an ow, fuck! from the bathroom as Brendon pulls Spencer along to their bedroom, and Spencer guesses that the two of them finally did fall over.
“Spencer, Spencer.” Brendon’s moved his grip from Spencer’s wrist all the way up his arm and around his shoulder, and now he’s pulling Spencer on top of him as he falls backwards onto the bed.
“What, what?” Spencer grins, draping himself on top of Brendon and feeling every inch of the body underneath him. Their legs are still hanging over the side of the bed, but Spencer’s not letting go so they can move themselves up and Brendon’s still holding on to the back of his neck.
“I dunno.” Brendon giggles, and Spencer giggles back, and then Spencer’s sucking on Brendon’s neck and Brendon’s giggle turns into a soft groan.
He stays there for a while, marking his neck with his lips and teeth and taking in Brendon’s scent-he smells like weed and that girly deodorant he keeps stealing from Ryan and clean air and what he imagines cow pastures smell like without the cow shit-until Brendon’s putting his hands under Spencer’s shirt, tugging it up until Spencer finally lifts himself up enough to pull it off himself.
“Didn’t really need to do that,” Spencer says against Brendon’s ear before starting to slide down, kneeling between Brendon’s legs.
“I like looking at you.” Brendon sits up to watch Spencer as he starts fumbling with the buttons of his jeans-fuck these jeans, seriously, he’s never letting Ryan take Brendon shopping again if he’s just going to get these tight fuckers.
“You should just wear sweatpants,” Spencer says, struggling with the second button that Brendon doesn’t even need to fasten, “all the time.”
“But these show off my ass,” Brendon says, which, true. Spencer isn’t going to say no to anything involving Brendon’s ass.
“Wear tight sweatpants.” Spencer finally pops the second button out and undoes the zipper, and frowns when he meets his next challenge. “Also, stop wearing underwear.”
Brendon laughs and lifts his hips up to tug his jeans and underwear down, just far enough down his thighs for Spencer to take his half-hard cock in his hand as he sits back down.
“I can’t stop wearing underwear. I like underwear.” Brendon’s got one hand in Spencer’s hair already, not pushing, just running his fingers through, fiddling with the ends. “I didn’t wear underwear for centuries, I’m not going to give up that-oh.” Brendon cuts off as Spencer licks all the way up his cock, base to tip, and when Spencer looks up, his wings are translucent and spreading a little wider than before.
Spencer lets his tongue linger at the head, flicking and swirling around a few times before taking it into his mouth, and Brendon makes that little oh noise again. His hands are still in Spencer’s hair, playing with the back and sides and it’s going to be so fucked up if he keeps doing this but Spencer’s a bit too busy sucking Brendon off to care.
“Spence,” Brendon breathes, his fingers tightening in the longer parts of his hair as he starts bobbing his head a little faster, taking in a bit more with each pass. It hurts, and he should be a bit more indignant about the hair, but the noises Brendon’s making are keeping him going. At least, until Brendon’s moans start to taper off and he says, “If we had a cat, this would be the part where it walks in and stares at us.”
Spencer has to pull off so he doesn’t end up laughing hysterically around Brendon’s cock, because that might cause some kind of damage for all parties.
Brendon doesn’t even complain, just keeps continuing his thought. “And then we’d stare back, and it’d stare at us for a while, and then it would leave, and then you’d start up again and it would come back, and then eventually we’d just shut the door. Maybe we should shut the door now.”
“To keep theoretical cats from walking in?”
“You never know!”
Spencer laughs again, pressing his face to Brendon’s thigh. “How about I finish blowing you, and then we can shut the door.”
“Or, I have a better idea,” Brendon says, and starts to lift Spencer up by the shoulders, scooting back onto the bed. Spencer lets himself be moved, lets Brendon crawl on top of him once he’s settled on his back, lets Brendon pull his pants and boxers down to his ankles so Spencer can kick them off the bed. Brendon’s still got his pants only halfway down, but Spencer’s a bit preoccupied with getting Brendon back on top of him, pulling weakly on the collar of his shirt.
Brendon kisses up Spencer’s chest, stopping at a nipple for a minute to nip and suck before starting to work on Spencer’s neck, probably leaving a few marks to match the ones Spencer left on him earlier.
“I think you would’ve liked the blowjob better,” Spencer mumbles, but he doesn’t complain once Brendon starts grinding down, their cocks sliding with the added help of Spencer’s spit, and it feels amazing. Brendon takes them both in one hand and makes a few slow strokes, and Spencer starts to take off Brendon’s shirt before his wings can become solid enough to get in the way. They’re already starting to look more white than gray, and there’s a weird tingly feeling as his fingers pass through them while he lifts Brendon’s shirt over his head, only frowning a little when Brendon takes his hand off their cocks.
“Should I get these pants off?” Brendon asks once he’s started up again, and Spencer thinks about saying yes until Brendon does this thing with his hand that makes his eyes roll back and Spencer can’t really say much of anything.
“Yeah, probably not.” Brendon presses his forehead to Spencer’s and just breathes until Spencer tilts his head to kiss him, and Brendon’s rhythm falters for a few seconds as Spencer licks around and inside Brendon’s mouth.
Brendon breaks the kiss to pant against Spencer’s shoulder, muttering, “You taste like me,” and they both laugh until Brendon speeds up and they’re moaning instead.
“Brendon, I-“ Spencer says, because everything-Brendon’s hand, Brendon’s cock, Brendon’s breath, Brendon’s bite marks probably reddening on his neck-feels amazing and perfect and he has to cut himself off to gasp and come all over Brendon’s hand and his own stomach, his whole body convulsing with it. He nearly hits Brendon in the face with his shoulder.
“Spencer,” Brendon says like a reply, still stroking the both of them until it’s almost too much for Spencer. He lifts his head up to look him in the eye, and his mouth is slack, his pupils are blown more than they usually are at this point, and Spencer wishes he had his camera as Brendon jerks his hips forward and comes, his wings becoming totally solid for an instant and stretching out wide enough to nearly knock over one of the mugs on his bedside table.
Brendon stays there for a moment, holding himself up on his knees and one arm, before collapsing on top of Spencer. “Shit. I came on you, sorry,” he mumbles into his neck.
“It’s fine, it’s-you’re lying in it, you know.” Spencer would lift Brendon off to keep them from getting any grosser, but he doesn’t really want to move his arms right now.
“Yeah, well. We can just take a shower.”
“I think Ryan and Jon are still in there. Which means they won’t be leaving for a while, Ryan’s a stubborn fuck.”
“Like, a stubborn guy-with-added-expletive-for-emphasis or stubborn while fucking?” Brendon asks, still not moving his face from Spencer’s neck.
Spencer doesn’t answer for a moment, because honestly, he’s not sure which. “Both. Maybe. Are you going to fall asleep?”
“I don’t need to sleep, remember?” But Brendon’s breathing is starting to even out, and Spencer knows he doesn’t need to sleep, but he sure as hell likes to.
“We’re going to be disgusting in the morning,” Spencer mutters, but he’s already slipping, too, and Brendon just hums his assent and starts to go limp.
Spencer lets his hands travel up Brendon’s back until he can feel the faint presence of his wings, small and mostly transparent again. Brendon hums again and presses himself a little closer, and Spencer runs his hands up and down his back until Brendon falls asleep on top of him.
Most days end like this, with Brendon wrapped around him in bed, and Spencer drifting off to sleep right beside him. He has to admit, it wasn’t hard to get used to the routine.