a tiny bit of brendon/adam.
i told disarm_d i'd write a tiny missing scene in adampov from her story.
this is the moment she picked: when Brendon FALLS ASLEEP ON HIM.
There's no way he'll be able to make this funny at brunch.
Thudding bass of a passing car shakes the windows, and his ass hurts. Not even sorority girl drinks are a good excuse for forgetting a cock doesn't have to be all that big to leave you sore.
Brendon snores a couple times, loudly, and Adam kicks at his shin. He doesn't wake, but he shuts the fuck up. Adam wipes his hand on the side of the mattress. If he'd bought more conditioner it would be worth taking a shower, but he hadn't, he'd been running around trying to find a new shirt to wear dancing. Something a little subdued, sexy but quieter about it.
Jesus, even his taste in clothes has gotten fucked up by fucking around with a kid who doesn't know what he wants.
His upstairs neighbor clomps around, turns on Nickelback, flips it off again before Adam can find something to throw at the ceiling. Brendon smiles in his sleep and stretches. His hand curls loosely around Adam's wrist and his head falls inch by inch until the edge of his cheek rests on Adam's shoulder.
There's a little bit of light coming through the curtains. It's not romantic. It's a streetlamp through translucent blue fabric they brought back from the desert. Brendon's back is thin and pale, and his hips cast a smooth shadow on the sheets. He reeks of rum and looks barely legal.
If Adam could wake up enough to fuck him there'd be nothing to laugh about over eggs benedict. Brendon breathes out against Adam's collarbone, damp and steady, in and out, in and out. In and out.
this is the moment she picked: when Brendon FALLS ASLEEP ON HIM.
There's no way he'll be able to make this funny at brunch.
Thudding bass of a passing car shakes the windows, and his ass hurts. Not even sorority girl drinks are a good excuse for forgetting a cock doesn't have to be all that big to leave you sore.
Brendon snores a couple times, loudly, and Adam kicks at his shin. He doesn't wake, but he shuts the fuck up. Adam wipes his hand on the side of the mattress. If he'd bought more conditioner it would be worth taking a shower, but he hadn't, he'd been running around trying to find a new shirt to wear dancing. Something a little subdued, sexy but quieter about it.
Jesus, even his taste in clothes has gotten fucked up by fucking around with a kid who doesn't know what he wants.
His upstairs neighbor clomps around, turns on Nickelback, flips it off again before Adam can find something to throw at the ceiling. Brendon smiles in his sleep and stretches. His hand curls loosely around Adam's wrist and his head falls inch by inch until the edge of his cheek rests on Adam's shoulder.
There's a little bit of light coming through the curtains. It's not romantic. It's a streetlamp through translucent blue fabric they brought back from the desert. Brendon's back is thin and pale, and his hips cast a smooth shadow on the sheets. He reeks of rum and looks barely legal.
If Adam could wake up enough to fuck him there'd be nothing to laugh about over eggs benedict. Brendon breathes out against Adam's collarbone, damp and steady, in and out, in and out. In and out.