fic!
just how the story ends
brendon/spencer
nc-17
notes: this is hardcore, straight up nc-17. seriously, guys. also, chatporn and the warnings for that are as usual. i tried capitalizing everything and even making real sentences most of the time. mistakes happen. this is for disarm_d who teased me with a little bit of brendon/spencer D/s action and then encouraged me to write this.
Spencer forgets Brendon once and he’ll never ever do it again. He doesn’t get any for like two weeks. In the end, Spencer begs. And Spencer never begs.
First, Spencer tries dirty talk, tries telling Brendon all the things he’ll do to him. It takes Brendon a lot of effort to resist, but then Jon walks in and, totally unknowingly, fucks it up. Brendon literally flees, doesn’t think he can stay in the same room with the memory of Spencer’s voice in his ear, with Spencer describing the way he’ll stretch Brendon slowly, teasing and making Brendon wait.
Spencer knows how Brendon likes the slow build.
So Brendon fucking books it, hangs out with Ryan for the rest of the day because he knows Spencer won’t talk about that shit right in front of Ryan.
Next, Spencer just acts normal, touches Brendon just as much as usual, pretends nothing is happening. He tries climbing into the same bed when they hit the hotel and Brendon sort of balks, stutters as he insists that Spencer has to sleep in his own bed. Spencer narrows his eyes, it’s been days.
But he climbs into the other bed. Neither of them get much sleep. Spencer almost says Brendon’s name, says something, but then he hears Brendon’s breathing hitch, closes his eyes and tries to figure out how the hell to fix this.
He contemplates ignoring Brendon, but then that’s what started the whole thing. Plus, he doesn’t want to hurt Brendon even more. This is that accidental hurt that makes Spencer feel like shit afterward because he just wasn’t thinking.
So Spencer goes out of his way to remember Brendon. To ask him for his opinion constantly, to ask him if he wants something to drink when Spencer goes to get himself something. He basically pesters the shit out of Brendon until Brendon gives in.
And he begs.
Spencer begs, quietly at first, and then louder. Begs Brendon to fuck him, if he wants. Begs Brendon to do something, to touch him, to kiss him. Spencer begs, kneeling at Brendon’s feet, and Brendon makes him say it again.
Makes him say please and Brendon.
Brendon loses all the power, though, as soon as Spencer slides a finger inside of him, as soon as Spencer’s fingers wrap around his dick. Loses it in moans and sighs, soft keening noises that Brendon is pretty sure don’t actually come from him.
He watches Spencer smooth lube over his fingers, the first two and then the third. Brendon doesn’t really mean to, but his legs open, spread wider and Spencer sort of smiles, his eyes narrowed just a little.
Spencer smiles and Brendon’s fingers tighten around sheets and comforters. His heels catch against the fabric and then Spencer is pressing lightly, rubbing softly. He touches that spot, the one just behind Brendon’s balls, and Brendon’s heels slip, his knuckles going white as his grip on the sheet tightens.
“Spencer,” Brendon says and it’s forced, his voice tight, and Spencer pushes through. He’s hesitant still, not quite as easy as normally, but Brendon hardly notices. Not when Spencer’s finger keeps moving, when it becomes two.
Brendon sighs and tilts his hips, tries to say something like, “Jesus Christ Spencer,” but it doesn’t exactly come out like that. Comes out more like, “Ngh. You. Fuuuck.”
Spencer smiles again and two becomes three.
Brendon’s not really thinking anymore. Well, he is. But it’s mostly along the lines of “Spencer fucking Smith. Ohgodohgodohgod.” He somehow manages a “now,” though he not sure it’s actually him that says it. He nods and twists his hips, mumbles enough intelligible words that Spencer sort of rolls his eyes and pulls his fingers out.
Brendon whines, seriously, and Spencer shoots him a look.
“Hurry the fuck up,” Brendon says, mumbles, something, and watches as Spencer pours some lube over his fingers, watches as Spencer rubs it into his dick.
“You ready?” Spencer says, the fingers of one hand wrapping around Brendon’s hip, smearing leftover lube against his skin. Brendon squirms, scowls as best he can and grits out, “Yes. Fuck, yes.”
“Brendon,” Spencer says and Brendon rolls his eyes.
“Just do it.” Spencer does. Brendon can feel the head pressed up against him, a tiny thrust and Spencer’s there, inside him but not nearly where Brendon needs him to be.
Brendon forces himself to let go of the sheets, to curl those fingers over Spencer’s forearm, through his hair. Spencer’s eyes flutter closed, just for a second, and then he pushes in a little farther. He pushes in enough that Brendon grunts, enough that his nose scrunches up as his brow furrows.
“Spencer,” he says and it’s a warning. Even though Spencer knows he’s the one in control now, knows it as he wraps his fingers around Brendon’s dick, as he pushes in even further.
“Brendon,” Spencer says, smiles, wide and happy, and kisses him. He kisses him until Brendon is breathless, until he’s pushing Spencer away and his hips are bucking.
“Please, Spence. Please.”
Spencer kisses him one last time, hard. Their teeth knock together a little and it’s messy. It’s not sweet and it’s exactly what Spencer needs, even as he tastes blood.
Spencer pulls back, pulls almost all the way out, just the head of his dick still inside Brendon and then he’s pushing back in. Doesn’t fuck around, doesn’t slow down at all. Just feels the way Brendon stretches around him, the way Brendon’s thighs tremble a little beneath his fingers.
Brendon’s words become a chorus of fucks, his jagged fingernails biting into the skin of Spencer’s arm, and he can’t, he’s not meeting Spencer’s thrusts exactly. But he’s pushing back into them, pushing desperately into Spencer’s hand and trying to fuck himself as best he can.
He’s totally fucking up Spencer’s rhythm and Spencer growls, slows down just a little, just enough that Brendon’s eyes go crinkly at the edges.
Brendon smiles as Spencer’s thrusts slow down even more, as his thrusts become this drag, skin against skin and it’s like Brendon can feel him everywhere. Feel the push inside of him and the possessive grip at his hip, the hand holding Spencer up, just off Brendon’s side.
“Spence,” he says, voice sort of low, lower than normal. Spencer kisses him then, kisses him slow and almost lazy, like he’s got nowhere to be. Brendon’s tongue licks wet and hot against Spencer’s, licks over his lower lip. He licks slow and long, holds Spencer close as his hips start moving slowly, as his hips roll into Spencer’s with the tiniest of movements.
He holds Spencer close, tugs at his hair a little harder than necessary when Spencer starts to pull away.
“No,” he says and it’s muffled, muffled by Spencer’s mouth, but his hips are still moving, picking up a little speed. Suddenly, though, Spencer shifts a little, has to move because his wrist is starting to kill him, and there’s this totally new angle, this angle that sends a huge spark of pleasure straight up Brendon’s spine.
Brendon grunts, moves his hips seriously this time and there. His thrusts get consistently quicker, even as Spencer is barely moving about him.
“Move, Spencer Smith,” he demands after what feels like forever. “Fucking move.”
Spencer laughs, actually fucking laughs, but does. He meets Brendon’s thrusts, stroke for stroke. He’s meeting Brendon’s thrusts, even when they speed up the tiniest amount, and his hand, the one smearing lube into Brendon’s skin is now on his dick, is stroking firmly over the length.
And Brendon has this thing. He doesn’t actually like it when Spencer touches the head of his dick, not in the middle of sex. Partly because it makes him come embarrassingly early, but also because it gives Spencer this power, this huge thing that he can hold over Brendon. Brendon doesn’t like it, prefers Spencer to find that spot, that sensitive spot just under the head. He loves when Spencer presses lightly, just there, when he wraps his mouth around Brendon’s dick and sucks, just there.
Spencer’s mid-thrust when he does it, accidentally, Brendon thinks. Because it’s not even the pad of his thumb, just the side and it has to be a mistake. Even as his back is arching, as he’s mumbling complete nonsense, Brendon thinks he wasn’t supposed to come this early.
Spencer’s thumb touches the slit, rubs right along the very head and Brendon’s eyes shut, his head tips back and he comes for a good long time. Spencer’s still thrusting, still panting lightly against Brendon’s collarbone when Brendon’s through.
His hand tightens a little in Spencer’s hair, his fingers closing over Spencer’s elbow, and Brendon pulls. Lightly at first, just a test.
“Brendon, fuck,” Spencer says and his voice is tight, rough. He sets his teeth against Brendon’s skin, doesn’t bite, and Brendon does it again. Pulls a tiny bit harder and that’s when Spencer’s thrusts finally get a little desperate.
His knees are digging into the mattress and Brendon can tell he’s so close, tell by the tension across his shoulders, the way his back is arching, just a little.
Brendon’s free hand, the one not pulling just enough at Spencer’s hair, runs down over his back, over the slightest of arches and he thrusts up once, twice, tugs harder at the same time. Spencer comes.
Spencer comes and his teeth do bite down into Brendon’s skin then, make marks that Brendon wouldn’t be able to hide with makeup if they were anywhere visible.
Spencer finishes, grimaces as he pulls out. He goes to the bathroom real quick, just to toss the condom and wet a washcloth. When he comes back Brendon is slowly fisting his cock, fingering the spot on his collarbone lightly.
He’s licking his lower lip, feeling the way it’s swollen and biting at it lightly.
Spencer climbs slowly onto the bed, careful not to put too much weight on his wrist and says, voice playful, “You got any condoms in that duffel?”
Brendon takes a second, pretends to really think it over before he smiles, sly and knowing.
“Of course I have condoms,” he says and Spencer thinks it should be impossible, but he’s already getting hard again.
“Well, you’re on top this time,” Spencer says, tosses the washcloth at Brendon and settles on his back. Brendon doesn’t ride him nearly enough.
Brendon grins and wipes himself off, grimaces a little at the way the come’s already sort of dry.
So Brendon’s kind of messy. Just sort of tosses all his shit into his backpack and duffel. They’re only spending the night and he hates to actually pack nicely. Wasted effort and all. So it takes him a few minutes to actually find the damn condoms. Spencer’s always telling him he should keep one in his wallet, but then Spencer does so Brendon doesn’t have to worry about it.
Meanwhile, Spencer’s admiring the view, stroking himself fully hard.
Brendon finally finds them with an “aha!” and he whirls around, huge grins on his face that slides right off at the sight of Spencer spread out for him.
Spencer raises an eyebrow at him.
“Anytime,” he says and Brendon scowls. He makes a face, one of those that precedes a fit, and Spencer’s eyes narrow. He’s got to cut if off before it can start, he’s learned that much. “Brendon Urie. Get your ass over here. Right here,” he says, even points at himself.
Brendon huffs but does what he’s told. He crawls up the bed, thinks about moving this to the other bed but then they would just fuck up both.
“Spence,” he says and Spencer shakes his head.
“No,” Spencer says. “No talking.”
Brendon definitely makes a face at that. The no talking things is hard. They’ve tried it before, Brendon biting into his lip hard enough, long enough, to make it bleed.
But then Spencer’s hands are warm against his skin, pulling and tugging until Brendon is sitting above him, a knee on either side. He slicks his fingers up again, quickly, and slides a finger inside of Brendon.
“You still ready for me?” Spencer ask, mouth pressed close to Brendon’s ear. Brendon nods, doesn’t risk talking. He nods and nods again, sinks into Spencer’s fingers as he adds a second.
Brendon’s fingers are dark, darker than the pale skin of Spencer’s chest and Brendon spreads them out, brushes his thumb over one nipple. He wants to talk, say please or Spencer, say more, oh god, more. Brendon wants to open his mouth and not have to worry about what comes out. Wants to mutter fuck and yes, yes.
He’s totally quiet, though. Lets Spencer fuck him slowly with just two fingers. Brendon’s dying to ask for more, one or even two. Just more. He bites down on his lip and curls his hand into a fist, presses it into Spencer’s chest, right in the middle.
Brendon closes his eyes, tips his head back and doesn’t even grunt or groan when Spencer slides a third finger in.
“Alright,” Spencer says and it’s really a whisper, not much more. “Alright.”
He pulls his fingers out, picks up the condom from where Brendon dropped it. It takes him a second. Brendon watches with wide eyes as Spencer fumbles just a little with the package. But then he’s got it open, is rolling the condom over his dick and adding more lube.
“Come on,” Spencer says, tugs at Brendon’s hip until he’s right about his dick, until he’s lined up against the head. He doesn’t sink down, though, waits for Spencer’s hand, for Spencer to tell him.
He’s sort of dying, the need to open his mouth, to speak and lose himself in words and meaningless mutterings.
Spencer’s got one hand around the back of Brendon’s neck, the other wrapped around his own dick.
“Brendon,” he says, voice serious, and Brendon opens his eyes, blinks at Spencer as his mouth falls open just a little. “Are you ready?”
Brendon nods, one quick nod followed by another.
“Hey, hey,” Spencer says and Brendon licks at his bottom lip, worries it with his teeth. “You ok?”
Brendon nods, slow this time, reassuring. Spencer smiles then, the bright one Brendon can’t resist, and nods.
“Ok,” he says and Brendon lowers himself carefully, feels it when he meets Spencer’s hand, when Spencer’s hand moves. He can feel the stretch too, not as bad as last time, but still there. He can feel the way his lips thin out, the way it sort of hurts to keep them closed as he’s sinking lower.
“Brendon,” Spencer says again, his thumb moving over Brendon’s cheek. He thrusts, just slightly, and Brendon settles himself better. Brendon lowers himself until he can’t, until he’s close, so close to Spencer, his erection pressed between them. And he doesn’t even sigh, even as he wants to, even as he needs to. Just breathes out through his nose and lifts himself up.
Spencer’s hand curves around the back of his neck, holds him nearly in place as Brendon moves slowly, up Spencer’s dick and then drops himself back down. Two lifts, that’s all he does before Brendon remembers, thinks back to the last time and the best way to get Spencer off.
He remembers the way Spencer had stopped him before he’d lifted himself up, remembers the way Spencer had said, “How about. Um, just roll your hips.” He also remembers the way Spencer had threatened to flip them over the very first time they tried it this way. Brendon was so sadly hopeless.
“Fuck,” Spencer says this time as Brendon shifts, slowly at first.
They’re leaning together then, Spencer pushing himself up on his elbows, hands pressed flat against the bed. Brendon’s got his hands tucked around Spencer’s hips, keeping them almost still as he moves, as he sets the pace.
It takes a little longer this time for Spencer to come, partly because Brendon’s not moving all that fast and partly because he’s already come.
But there’s a point, this moment when Brendon’s mouth falls open, when he’s panting and just. Spencer can’t take it.
“Brendon,” he says. “Brendon, Brendon, Brendon.”
Brendon glares at him, picks up the pace just a bit.
“Tell me,” he says. “Tell me, Brendon.”
“Spencer,” he says, his voice breaking. “Oh god, Spencer. Please, please.”
“Come on, Bren,” Spencer says, teeth bared a little. “You want me to touch you, make you come?”
And Brendon nods, just slightly frantic. Brendon nods, says, “Yes. Spence, yes.”
“Make me come,” Spencer tells him, settling back against the bed. “Brendon,” and there’s just the slightest bit of an edge. Brendon doesn’t speed up, though, makes each movement more significant, makes it matter, and it’s not long before Spencer’s eyes are closing, before his mouth is falling slack.
Brendon moves one last time, a slight roll forward that has Spencer arching hard, that has him coming. And right in the middle, he’s still shuddering when his fingers close over Brendon’s dick, when his thumb brushes, this time, purposefully over the head.
Brendon sort of forgets that he hates that as he tumbles headfirst into his orgasm. He can vaguely feel his fingers holding onto Spencer, feel his back arching, but it all feels pretty damn spectacular. He’s completely gone.
brendon/spencer
nc-17
notes: this is hardcore, straight up nc-17. seriously, guys. also, chatporn and the warnings for that are as usual. i tried capitalizing everything and even making real sentences most of the time. mistakes happen. this is for disarm_d who teased me with a little bit of brendon/spencer D/s action and then encouraged me to write this.
Spencer forgets Brendon once and he’ll never ever do it again. He doesn’t get any for like two weeks. In the end, Spencer begs. And Spencer never begs.
First, Spencer tries dirty talk, tries telling Brendon all the things he’ll do to him. It takes Brendon a lot of effort to resist, but then Jon walks in and, totally unknowingly, fucks it up. Brendon literally flees, doesn’t think he can stay in the same room with the memory of Spencer’s voice in his ear, with Spencer describing the way he’ll stretch Brendon slowly, teasing and making Brendon wait.
Spencer knows how Brendon likes the slow build.
So Brendon fucking books it, hangs out with Ryan for the rest of the day because he knows Spencer won’t talk about that shit right in front of Ryan.
Next, Spencer just acts normal, touches Brendon just as much as usual, pretends nothing is happening. He tries climbing into the same bed when they hit the hotel and Brendon sort of balks, stutters as he insists that Spencer has to sleep in his own bed. Spencer narrows his eyes, it’s been days.
But he climbs into the other bed. Neither of them get much sleep. Spencer almost says Brendon’s name, says something, but then he hears Brendon’s breathing hitch, closes his eyes and tries to figure out how the hell to fix this.
He contemplates ignoring Brendon, but then that’s what started the whole thing. Plus, he doesn’t want to hurt Brendon even more. This is that accidental hurt that makes Spencer feel like shit afterward because he just wasn’t thinking.
So Spencer goes out of his way to remember Brendon. To ask him for his opinion constantly, to ask him if he wants something to drink when Spencer goes to get himself something. He basically pesters the shit out of Brendon until Brendon gives in.
And he begs.
Spencer begs, quietly at first, and then louder. Begs Brendon to fuck him, if he wants. Begs Brendon to do something, to touch him, to kiss him. Spencer begs, kneeling at Brendon’s feet, and Brendon makes him say it again.
Makes him say please and Brendon.
Brendon loses all the power, though, as soon as Spencer slides a finger inside of him, as soon as Spencer’s fingers wrap around his dick. Loses it in moans and sighs, soft keening noises that Brendon is pretty sure don’t actually come from him.
He watches Spencer smooth lube over his fingers, the first two and then the third. Brendon doesn’t really mean to, but his legs open, spread wider and Spencer sort of smiles, his eyes narrowed just a little.
Spencer smiles and Brendon’s fingers tighten around sheets and comforters. His heels catch against the fabric and then Spencer is pressing lightly, rubbing softly. He touches that spot, the one just behind Brendon’s balls, and Brendon’s heels slip, his knuckles going white as his grip on the sheet tightens.
“Spencer,” Brendon says and it’s forced, his voice tight, and Spencer pushes through. He’s hesitant still, not quite as easy as normally, but Brendon hardly notices. Not when Spencer’s finger keeps moving, when it becomes two.
Brendon sighs and tilts his hips, tries to say something like, “Jesus Christ Spencer,” but it doesn’t exactly come out like that. Comes out more like, “Ngh. You. Fuuuck.”
Spencer smiles again and two becomes three.
Brendon’s not really thinking anymore. Well, he is. But it’s mostly along the lines of “Spencer fucking Smith. Ohgodohgodohgod.” He somehow manages a “now,” though he not sure it’s actually him that says it. He nods and twists his hips, mumbles enough intelligible words that Spencer sort of rolls his eyes and pulls his fingers out.
Brendon whines, seriously, and Spencer shoots him a look.
“Hurry the fuck up,” Brendon says, mumbles, something, and watches as Spencer pours some lube over his fingers, watches as Spencer rubs it into his dick.
“You ready?” Spencer says, the fingers of one hand wrapping around Brendon’s hip, smearing leftover lube against his skin. Brendon squirms, scowls as best he can and grits out, “Yes. Fuck, yes.”
“Brendon,” Spencer says and Brendon rolls his eyes.
“Just do it.” Spencer does. Brendon can feel the head pressed up against him, a tiny thrust and Spencer’s there, inside him but not nearly where Brendon needs him to be.
Brendon forces himself to let go of the sheets, to curl those fingers over Spencer’s forearm, through his hair. Spencer’s eyes flutter closed, just for a second, and then he pushes in a little farther. He pushes in enough that Brendon grunts, enough that his nose scrunches up as his brow furrows.
“Spencer,” he says and it’s a warning. Even though Spencer knows he’s the one in control now, knows it as he wraps his fingers around Brendon’s dick, as he pushes in even further.
“Brendon,” Spencer says, smiles, wide and happy, and kisses him. He kisses him until Brendon is breathless, until he’s pushing Spencer away and his hips are bucking.
“Please, Spence. Please.”
Spencer kisses him one last time, hard. Their teeth knock together a little and it’s messy. It’s not sweet and it’s exactly what Spencer needs, even as he tastes blood.
Spencer pulls back, pulls almost all the way out, just the head of his dick still inside Brendon and then he’s pushing back in. Doesn’t fuck around, doesn’t slow down at all. Just feels the way Brendon stretches around him, the way Brendon’s thighs tremble a little beneath his fingers.
Brendon’s words become a chorus of fucks, his jagged fingernails biting into the skin of Spencer’s arm, and he can’t, he’s not meeting Spencer’s thrusts exactly. But he’s pushing back into them, pushing desperately into Spencer’s hand and trying to fuck himself as best he can.
He’s totally fucking up Spencer’s rhythm and Spencer growls, slows down just a little, just enough that Brendon’s eyes go crinkly at the edges.
Brendon smiles as Spencer’s thrusts slow down even more, as his thrusts become this drag, skin against skin and it’s like Brendon can feel him everywhere. Feel the push inside of him and the possessive grip at his hip, the hand holding Spencer up, just off Brendon’s side.
“Spence,” he says, voice sort of low, lower than normal. Spencer kisses him then, kisses him slow and almost lazy, like he’s got nowhere to be. Brendon’s tongue licks wet and hot against Spencer’s, licks over his lower lip. He licks slow and long, holds Spencer close as his hips start moving slowly, as his hips roll into Spencer’s with the tiniest of movements.
He holds Spencer close, tugs at his hair a little harder than necessary when Spencer starts to pull away.
“No,” he says and it’s muffled, muffled by Spencer’s mouth, but his hips are still moving, picking up a little speed. Suddenly, though, Spencer shifts a little, has to move because his wrist is starting to kill him, and there’s this totally new angle, this angle that sends a huge spark of pleasure straight up Brendon’s spine.
Brendon grunts, moves his hips seriously this time and there. His thrusts get consistently quicker, even as Spencer is barely moving about him.
“Move, Spencer Smith,” he demands after what feels like forever. “Fucking move.”
Spencer laughs, actually fucking laughs, but does. He meets Brendon’s thrusts, stroke for stroke. He’s meeting Brendon’s thrusts, even when they speed up the tiniest amount, and his hand, the one smearing lube into Brendon’s skin is now on his dick, is stroking firmly over the length.
And Brendon has this thing. He doesn’t actually like it when Spencer touches the head of his dick, not in the middle of sex. Partly because it makes him come embarrassingly early, but also because it gives Spencer this power, this huge thing that he can hold over Brendon. Brendon doesn’t like it, prefers Spencer to find that spot, that sensitive spot just under the head. He loves when Spencer presses lightly, just there, when he wraps his mouth around Brendon’s dick and sucks, just there.
Spencer’s mid-thrust when he does it, accidentally, Brendon thinks. Because it’s not even the pad of his thumb, just the side and it has to be a mistake. Even as his back is arching, as he’s mumbling complete nonsense, Brendon thinks he wasn’t supposed to come this early.
Spencer’s thumb touches the slit, rubs right along the very head and Brendon’s eyes shut, his head tips back and he comes for a good long time. Spencer’s still thrusting, still panting lightly against Brendon’s collarbone when Brendon’s through.
His hand tightens a little in Spencer’s hair, his fingers closing over Spencer’s elbow, and Brendon pulls. Lightly at first, just a test.
“Brendon, fuck,” Spencer says and his voice is tight, rough. He sets his teeth against Brendon’s skin, doesn’t bite, and Brendon does it again. Pulls a tiny bit harder and that’s when Spencer’s thrusts finally get a little desperate.
His knees are digging into the mattress and Brendon can tell he’s so close, tell by the tension across his shoulders, the way his back is arching, just a little.
Brendon’s free hand, the one not pulling just enough at Spencer’s hair, runs down over his back, over the slightest of arches and he thrusts up once, twice, tugs harder at the same time. Spencer comes.
Spencer comes and his teeth do bite down into Brendon’s skin then, make marks that Brendon wouldn’t be able to hide with makeup if they were anywhere visible.
Spencer finishes, grimaces as he pulls out. He goes to the bathroom real quick, just to toss the condom and wet a washcloth. When he comes back Brendon is slowly fisting his cock, fingering the spot on his collarbone lightly.
He’s licking his lower lip, feeling the way it’s swollen and biting at it lightly.
Spencer climbs slowly onto the bed, careful not to put too much weight on his wrist and says, voice playful, “You got any condoms in that duffel?”
Brendon takes a second, pretends to really think it over before he smiles, sly and knowing.
“Of course I have condoms,” he says and Spencer thinks it should be impossible, but he’s already getting hard again.
“Well, you’re on top this time,” Spencer says, tosses the washcloth at Brendon and settles on his back. Brendon doesn’t ride him nearly enough.
Brendon grins and wipes himself off, grimaces a little at the way the come’s already sort of dry.
So Brendon’s kind of messy. Just sort of tosses all his shit into his backpack and duffel. They’re only spending the night and he hates to actually pack nicely. Wasted effort and all. So it takes him a few minutes to actually find the damn condoms. Spencer’s always telling him he should keep one in his wallet, but then Spencer does so Brendon doesn’t have to worry about it.
Meanwhile, Spencer’s admiring the view, stroking himself fully hard.
Brendon finally finds them with an “aha!” and he whirls around, huge grins on his face that slides right off at the sight of Spencer spread out for him.
Spencer raises an eyebrow at him.
“Anytime,” he says and Brendon scowls. He makes a face, one of those that precedes a fit, and Spencer’s eyes narrow. He’s got to cut if off before it can start, he’s learned that much. “Brendon Urie. Get your ass over here. Right here,” he says, even points at himself.
Brendon huffs but does what he’s told. He crawls up the bed, thinks about moving this to the other bed but then they would just fuck up both.
“Spence,” he says and Spencer shakes his head.
“No,” Spencer says. “No talking.”
Brendon definitely makes a face at that. The no talking things is hard. They’ve tried it before, Brendon biting into his lip hard enough, long enough, to make it bleed.
But then Spencer’s hands are warm against his skin, pulling and tugging until Brendon is sitting above him, a knee on either side. He slicks his fingers up again, quickly, and slides a finger inside of Brendon.
“You still ready for me?” Spencer ask, mouth pressed close to Brendon’s ear. Brendon nods, doesn’t risk talking. He nods and nods again, sinks into Spencer’s fingers as he adds a second.
Brendon’s fingers are dark, darker than the pale skin of Spencer’s chest and Brendon spreads them out, brushes his thumb over one nipple. He wants to talk, say please or Spencer, say more, oh god, more. Brendon wants to open his mouth and not have to worry about what comes out. Wants to mutter fuck and yes, yes.
He’s totally quiet, though. Lets Spencer fuck him slowly with just two fingers. Brendon’s dying to ask for more, one or even two. Just more. He bites down on his lip and curls his hand into a fist, presses it into Spencer’s chest, right in the middle.
Brendon closes his eyes, tips his head back and doesn’t even grunt or groan when Spencer slides a third finger in.
“Alright,” Spencer says and it’s really a whisper, not much more. “Alright.”
He pulls his fingers out, picks up the condom from where Brendon dropped it. It takes him a second. Brendon watches with wide eyes as Spencer fumbles just a little with the package. But then he’s got it open, is rolling the condom over his dick and adding more lube.
“Come on,” Spencer says, tugs at Brendon’s hip until he’s right about his dick, until he’s lined up against the head. He doesn’t sink down, though, waits for Spencer’s hand, for Spencer to tell him.
He’s sort of dying, the need to open his mouth, to speak and lose himself in words and meaningless mutterings.
Spencer’s got one hand around the back of Brendon’s neck, the other wrapped around his own dick.
“Brendon,” he says, voice serious, and Brendon opens his eyes, blinks at Spencer as his mouth falls open just a little. “Are you ready?”
Brendon nods, one quick nod followed by another.
“Hey, hey,” Spencer says and Brendon licks at his bottom lip, worries it with his teeth. “You ok?”
Brendon nods, slow this time, reassuring. Spencer smiles then, the bright one Brendon can’t resist, and nods.
“Ok,” he says and Brendon lowers himself carefully, feels it when he meets Spencer’s hand, when Spencer’s hand moves. He can feel the stretch too, not as bad as last time, but still there. He can feel the way his lips thin out, the way it sort of hurts to keep them closed as he’s sinking lower.
“Brendon,” Spencer says again, his thumb moving over Brendon’s cheek. He thrusts, just slightly, and Brendon settles himself better. Brendon lowers himself until he can’t, until he’s close, so close to Spencer, his erection pressed between them. And he doesn’t even sigh, even as he wants to, even as he needs to. Just breathes out through his nose and lifts himself up.
Spencer’s hand curves around the back of his neck, holds him nearly in place as Brendon moves slowly, up Spencer’s dick and then drops himself back down. Two lifts, that’s all he does before Brendon remembers, thinks back to the last time and the best way to get Spencer off.
He remembers the way Spencer had stopped him before he’d lifted himself up, remembers the way Spencer had said, “How about. Um, just roll your hips.” He also remembers the way Spencer had threatened to flip them over the very first time they tried it this way. Brendon was so sadly hopeless.
“Fuck,” Spencer says this time as Brendon shifts, slowly at first.
They’re leaning together then, Spencer pushing himself up on his elbows, hands pressed flat against the bed. Brendon’s got his hands tucked around Spencer’s hips, keeping them almost still as he moves, as he sets the pace.
It takes a little longer this time for Spencer to come, partly because Brendon’s not moving all that fast and partly because he’s already come.
But there’s a point, this moment when Brendon’s mouth falls open, when he’s panting and just. Spencer can’t take it.
“Brendon,” he says. “Brendon, Brendon, Brendon.”
Brendon glares at him, picks up the pace just a bit.
“Tell me,” he says. “Tell me, Brendon.”
“Spencer,” he says, his voice breaking. “Oh god, Spencer. Please, please.”
“Come on, Bren,” Spencer says, teeth bared a little. “You want me to touch you, make you come?”
And Brendon nods, just slightly frantic. Brendon nods, says, “Yes. Spence, yes.”
“Make me come,” Spencer tells him, settling back against the bed. “Brendon,” and there’s just the slightest bit of an edge. Brendon doesn’t speed up, though, makes each movement more significant, makes it matter, and it’s not long before Spencer’s eyes are closing, before his mouth is falling slack.
Brendon moves one last time, a slight roll forward that has Spencer arching hard, that has him coming. And right in the middle, he’s still shuddering when his fingers close over Brendon’s dick, when his thumb brushes, this time, purposefully over the head.
Brendon sort of forgets that he hates that as he tumbles headfirst into his orgasm. He can vaguely feel his fingers holding onto Spencer, feel his back arching, but it all feels pretty damn spectacular. He’s completely gone.