Panic fic | (Film the World) Before It Happens | Brendon and Shane | R | ~ 1500 words
(Film the World) Before It Happens
Brendon/Shane | R | ~ 1500 words
Kink Bingo: film/photography
Thanks to supergrover24 for the beta!
Brendon's only five feet away, but his eyes are blank. Shane can't guess what he's thinking, never knows where Brendon goes when he's off in his own thoughts. Brendon sits on the couch, the long brown leather one that's pushed against the very back of the bus, with his pants open and his dick in hand.
He's still wearing his t-shirt, and if Shane keeps the camera zoomed in on Brendon's face it doesn't look like much is happening. Brendon's features are pulled a little tighter than usual and his jaw clenches with each exhale, but he's silent, mostly. Focused. There's a little edge to some of his exhalations, but even though Shane's filming with sound he doesn't think the camera is going to pick up anything.
Most of Brendon's arm is still as he jerks off, the movement mainly coming from his wrist, his elbow pressed close to his body. Shane can see the muscles in Brendon's right forearm flex and he slides the focus over to Brendon's other arm so that he can catch the loose curl of Brendon's fingers as a contrast to the tight grip of his other hand. Holding the camera still, Shane tilts his head to the side and looks Brendon up and down without the limits of the viewfinder. One of Brendon's knees falls open more than the other one, and Shane tries to decide what shot would best show the asymmetry.
Shane had said, I'm not keeping it on my hard drive, because he can't even find the t-shirt he wants to wear most days, more because of the chaos of touring than his own carelessness, but regardless, I don't want to be responsible for something like that showing up on the internet.
I'll hold onto it, Brendon had said. I just want to see.
If Brendon just wanted to see what he looks like on film, Shane could give him hundreds of hours of footage that he's already got from the tour, but all Shane said was, You've got to figure out how to get everyone else off the bus.
Brendon's jeans are bunched around his thighs, his cock easily accessible. There's no reason for him to change anything, but Shane isn't surprised when Brendon stops, rises off the couch and strips down completely: his pants and his shirt and his socks until he's naked. He steps backward, lifts one foot then the other and kneels on the couch, his legs wider than shoulder width apart.
After spitting into his palm, Brendon grabs his dick. He jerks himself off hard and fast, his forearm flexing with effort. He doesn't look directly at Shane, staring forward without ever moving his eyes over to the camera. It doesn't look like he's putting on a show. Day to day, sometimes Brendon seems aware of the camera, his eyes sliding over before darting quickly away. Sometimes the camera gets him nervous, like there's any chance that Shane would include clips of Brendon making dead baby jokes on the DVD even if Brendon didn't stop himself awkwardly halfway through. Sometimes it makes him louder, makes him sillier, makes him try more and more difficult tricks with his skateboard, but Shane isn't sure if that's the camera or just the fact that Brendon knows he has an audience, knows for sure he has Shane's full attention.
Sometimes Brendon ignores the camera completely. Right now, Brendon seems to be ignoring the camera, but there's no way that he's unaware of it, no way that he's forgotten that Shane is standing at the other side of the room, recording him. Brendon jerks off quickly and now that he's naked Shane can see the way his whole body is tight with effort, straining. They've been at this for a little while, ten minutes or so, Shane guesses, but it seems like Brendon is going to be done soon. Shane doesn't know what he expected, but Brendon isn't putting on a show. He's not touching himself anywhere other than his dick, not saying anything or making any noises except the tiny ones that slip out while he breathes. He's not dragging it out and Shane tries to figure out what other shots he should get while there's still time.
He moves the camera up, and there's a shadow under Brendon's jaw before the pale stretch of his throat; down, and Brendon's hand flies over his dick, pulling hard. Shane pulls back so that most of the frame is the deep brown of the couch contrasting with the white of Brendon's arm, the smooth stretch of leather and the triangle of Brendon's elbow, bent sharply. He remembers Brendon saying that he wanted to see, and pulls back and centres the camera. He captures from the top of Brendon's head, the little tufts of hair sticking up, all the way down to the slight curve of Brendon's thighs.
Brendon's stomach clenches on each exhale. Shane zooms in a little, just to get some motion in the shot, but still notices when Brendon's eyes shift, just a fraction but it seems like he's seeing now, not just staring blankly. Shane wonders if Brendon's looking at him or at the camera, if he can tell what Shane is filming. If he's worried about how this is going to look once it's done. It doesn't seem like he's worried about anything other than getting off. Shane thinks that this is probably exactly what Brendon would be doing if he were alone. This is how he'd look if there were no one here to film him.
Brendon's stomach goes tight and stays that way for a long moment, like he's holding his breath, and then the movement of his hand falters and when he finally pulls his fist back Shane can see the head of his cock and then he can see that Brendon's coming. Brendon's cock jerks, and Shane holds the camera steady because he's still got Brendon's face mostly in frame. He thinks that Brendon would rather see his face than a close up on his dick, but he's not sure.
The only sound Brendon makes is one little, "Huh", his torso curving forward, shoulders going tight before finally he lifts up again, lets go of his dick.
Brendon stands, looks across the room but not at Shane. It seems like he's seeing something in his head, maybe a picture of how he expects this to look: his hands in loose fists, shoulders pulled back, body on display. His dick is soft and small, and he's shaved away most of his pubic hair, all of the hair on his chest. Shane can see the shadow of Brendon's ribcage moving beneath pale skin.
He stands still and Shane wonders if he's supposed to capture the details of Brendon's body. Brendon knows what he looks like naked, and he could get all of this just from looking in a full length mirror, but he wants Shane to film, wants someone else to show him how he looks, so Shane moves the camera, lingers briefly to create little snapshots. Brendon's fingers and the flush along his chest and the fullness of his mouth and the shading of stubble on his cheeks. Brendon seems far away, even as Shane zooms in on the line where his arm rests at his side and follows it down to Brendon's hip.
Shane doesn't know how long Brendon is going to stay like this, but he doesn't show any signs of moving. Brendon stands completely still and eventually Shane pulls the camera away from his face, turns it off.
Brendon doesn't move right away. Shane doesn't know what Brendon's waiting for, but he waits, too, until finally Brendon bends down and picks up his t-shirt and then Shane reaches for his camera case. Brendon wipes his hand off, crouches so that he can scrub his shirt along the floor. Shane hadn't even thought about that, but right, yes, they're on the bus. The other guys will be coming back soon.
Shane scratches at the back of his head and keeps his eyes lowered as Brendon starts putting his pants on. It seems more intimate to watch Brendon redress than it did when Brendon stripped in the first place. Shane shifts uncomfortably, and realizes that he is hard. Has been hard for a while, it feels like, but he's only noticing now. He holds the camera bag close to his body, grateful for the cover as he tucks his erection into the waistband of his pants and pulls down his shirt.
Brendon finishes zipping up and starts toward the door, telegraphing the movement before he actually takes it so that Shane knows to step out of the way. Brendon's holding his shirt, likely heading to his bunk for a clean one. Shane waits for Brendon to leave the room then follows him, making sure not to brush against Brendon as he passes him in the aisle.
"I'll burn it onto a DVD and delete the original," Shane says as he walks up the bus.
He doesn't turn around so he doesn't know if Brendon is looking at him when he nods at Brendon's, "Okay. Thanks."
Brendon/Shane | R | ~ 1500 words
Kink Bingo: film/photography
Thanks to supergrover24 for the beta!
Brendon's only five feet away, but his eyes are blank. Shane can't guess what he's thinking, never knows where Brendon goes when he's off in his own thoughts. Brendon sits on the couch, the long brown leather one that's pushed against the very back of the bus, with his pants open and his dick in hand.
He's still wearing his t-shirt, and if Shane keeps the camera zoomed in on Brendon's face it doesn't look like much is happening. Brendon's features are pulled a little tighter than usual and his jaw clenches with each exhale, but he's silent, mostly. Focused. There's a little edge to some of his exhalations, but even though Shane's filming with sound he doesn't think the camera is going to pick up anything.
Most of Brendon's arm is still as he jerks off, the movement mainly coming from his wrist, his elbow pressed close to his body. Shane can see the muscles in Brendon's right forearm flex and he slides the focus over to Brendon's other arm so that he can catch the loose curl of Brendon's fingers as a contrast to the tight grip of his other hand. Holding the camera still, Shane tilts his head to the side and looks Brendon up and down without the limits of the viewfinder. One of Brendon's knees falls open more than the other one, and Shane tries to decide what shot would best show the asymmetry.
Shane had said, I'm not keeping it on my hard drive, because he can't even find the t-shirt he wants to wear most days, more because of the chaos of touring than his own carelessness, but regardless, I don't want to be responsible for something like that showing up on the internet.
I'll hold onto it, Brendon had said. I just want to see.
If Brendon just wanted to see what he looks like on film, Shane could give him hundreds of hours of footage that he's already got from the tour, but all Shane said was, You've got to figure out how to get everyone else off the bus.
Brendon's jeans are bunched around his thighs, his cock easily accessible. There's no reason for him to change anything, but Shane isn't surprised when Brendon stops, rises off the couch and strips down completely: his pants and his shirt and his socks until he's naked. He steps backward, lifts one foot then the other and kneels on the couch, his legs wider than shoulder width apart.
After spitting into his palm, Brendon grabs his dick. He jerks himself off hard and fast, his forearm flexing with effort. He doesn't look directly at Shane, staring forward without ever moving his eyes over to the camera. It doesn't look like he's putting on a show. Day to day, sometimes Brendon seems aware of the camera, his eyes sliding over before darting quickly away. Sometimes the camera gets him nervous, like there's any chance that Shane would include clips of Brendon making dead baby jokes on the DVD even if Brendon didn't stop himself awkwardly halfway through. Sometimes it makes him louder, makes him sillier, makes him try more and more difficult tricks with his skateboard, but Shane isn't sure if that's the camera or just the fact that Brendon knows he has an audience, knows for sure he has Shane's full attention.
Sometimes Brendon ignores the camera completely. Right now, Brendon seems to be ignoring the camera, but there's no way that he's unaware of it, no way that he's forgotten that Shane is standing at the other side of the room, recording him. Brendon jerks off quickly and now that he's naked Shane can see the way his whole body is tight with effort, straining. They've been at this for a little while, ten minutes or so, Shane guesses, but it seems like Brendon is going to be done soon. Shane doesn't know what he expected, but Brendon isn't putting on a show. He's not touching himself anywhere other than his dick, not saying anything or making any noises except the tiny ones that slip out while he breathes. He's not dragging it out and Shane tries to figure out what other shots he should get while there's still time.
He moves the camera up, and there's a shadow under Brendon's jaw before the pale stretch of his throat; down, and Brendon's hand flies over his dick, pulling hard. Shane pulls back so that most of the frame is the deep brown of the couch contrasting with the white of Brendon's arm, the smooth stretch of leather and the triangle of Brendon's elbow, bent sharply. He remembers Brendon saying that he wanted to see, and pulls back and centres the camera. He captures from the top of Brendon's head, the little tufts of hair sticking up, all the way down to the slight curve of Brendon's thighs.
Brendon's stomach clenches on each exhale. Shane zooms in a little, just to get some motion in the shot, but still notices when Brendon's eyes shift, just a fraction but it seems like he's seeing now, not just staring blankly. Shane wonders if Brendon's looking at him or at the camera, if he can tell what Shane is filming. If he's worried about how this is going to look once it's done. It doesn't seem like he's worried about anything other than getting off. Shane thinks that this is probably exactly what Brendon would be doing if he were alone. This is how he'd look if there were no one here to film him.
Brendon's stomach goes tight and stays that way for a long moment, like he's holding his breath, and then the movement of his hand falters and when he finally pulls his fist back Shane can see the head of his cock and then he can see that Brendon's coming. Brendon's cock jerks, and Shane holds the camera steady because he's still got Brendon's face mostly in frame. He thinks that Brendon would rather see his face than a close up on his dick, but he's not sure.
The only sound Brendon makes is one little, "Huh", his torso curving forward, shoulders going tight before finally he lifts up again, lets go of his dick.
Brendon stands, looks across the room but not at Shane. It seems like he's seeing something in his head, maybe a picture of how he expects this to look: his hands in loose fists, shoulders pulled back, body on display. His dick is soft and small, and he's shaved away most of his pubic hair, all of the hair on his chest. Shane can see the shadow of Brendon's ribcage moving beneath pale skin.
He stands still and Shane wonders if he's supposed to capture the details of Brendon's body. Brendon knows what he looks like naked, and he could get all of this just from looking in a full length mirror, but he wants Shane to film, wants someone else to show him how he looks, so Shane moves the camera, lingers briefly to create little snapshots. Brendon's fingers and the flush along his chest and the fullness of his mouth and the shading of stubble on his cheeks. Brendon seems far away, even as Shane zooms in on the line where his arm rests at his side and follows it down to Brendon's hip.
Shane doesn't know how long Brendon is going to stay like this, but he doesn't show any signs of moving. Brendon stands completely still and eventually Shane pulls the camera away from his face, turns it off.
Brendon doesn't move right away. Shane doesn't know what Brendon's waiting for, but he waits, too, until finally Brendon bends down and picks up his t-shirt and then Shane reaches for his camera case. Brendon wipes his hand off, crouches so that he can scrub his shirt along the floor. Shane hadn't even thought about that, but right, yes, they're on the bus. The other guys will be coming back soon.
Shane scratches at the back of his head and keeps his eyes lowered as Brendon starts putting his pants on. It seems more intimate to watch Brendon redress than it did when Brendon stripped in the first place. Shane shifts uncomfortably, and realizes that he is hard. Has been hard for a while, it feels like, but he's only noticing now. He holds the camera bag close to his body, grateful for the cover as he tucks his erection into the waistband of his pants and pulls down his shirt.
Brendon finishes zipping up and starts toward the door, telegraphing the movement before he actually takes it so that Shane knows to step out of the way. Brendon's holding his shirt, likely heading to his bunk for a clean one. Shane waits for Brendon to leave the room then follows him, making sure not to brush against Brendon as he passes him in the aisle.
"I'll burn it onto a DVD and delete the original," Shane says as he walks up the bus.
He doesn't turn around so he doesn't know if Brendon is looking at him when he nods at Brendon's, "Okay. Thanks."