p!atd| acquiescence hard gained | nc.17 | brendon.ryan.spencer.jon
Author: clumsygyrl
Fandom: panic!at the disco
Pairings: spencer smith/jon walker, ryan ross/brendon urie, jon walker/spencer smith/ryan ross/brendon urie
Rating: nc-17
Disclaimer: all true. yup. all of it. except where it’s not. being everything with vowels and cosonants.
Author’s notes: written for kosher_pareve for the DYW Teen Hearts Fic Exchange. first, i apologize for the lateness. second, she asked for a multitude of things, but i focused on the panic!gsf. well, because… hell. it’s more than one. i really do need to thank schuyler & eleanor_lavish- they were the impetus. thank you to my betas schuyler & tobyzantium. also thank you to canadiankracka & callsigns as they read the earlier versions and told me it didn’t suck too badly. thanks to sun tzu for the quote and diet coke (for lots of things) and xoverau, iphignia939, & lizardling for the cheerleading. marigolde for the cheerleading and the use of her lj name. ahem. all other mistakes are mine.
Warnings: D/s themes abound. not your cuppa? mosey on by.
Word count: 5382 [approximately. give or take a word or two.]
acquiescence hard gained
Jon had no problem slipping into his role when they asked him to be in the band. Being able to change and adapt is rule more than exception in this business.
Well, it is if you want to survive.
Looking over at the three other faces, all Jon could do was nod. He shook their hands and inked his name on the dotted lines.
It would work.
++++
At first the fans had no idea what to make of him. Not the brooding rockstar. Not the pretty boy (though his mom would object to that and pull out albums from when rat tails and slouch socks were the in thing.). He knew that he wasn’t the older brother type, even if he was older.
He wondered if he could just define himself as the quiet one that observed.
The fans, in their omnipotence, delegated him as the Cute, Lovable But Not the Lead Singer One.
Jon was surprisingly comfortable with the role. It fit in a way that broken in jeans and wash worn t-shirts did.
++++
Spencer was in charge. He made plans and talked the talk. Jon noticed that right off. Ryan had the words. Brendon had the voice.
But Spencer. Spencer had the control.
It took Jon a little longer to notice that perhaps Spencer didn’t want that role.
++++
Once in high school, Jon had a really in depth conversation with the student body president - Alison Reilly. She was captain of the Debate Club, fast track to Penn, and liked to do competitive riding in her spare time. She’d been talking to Jon about college prep classes and Jon had just looked at her with a little smile.
“I’m prepared not to go to college. It’s just something I’m not going to do, I don’t think.” Jon passed the file folder of papers back to her with a smile.
Alison looked at him in surprise. “What do you mean?”
“Not going to college or not thinking?”
Alison laughed. She has a pretty laugh. A perfect pretty little laugh. Jon noticed that one of her bicuspids was a little crooked. “Oh, I know you think Jon. You do a lot of that but don’t want anyone to know you do. You see a lot of things most people don’t.”
Jon fixed her with a look. “I guess you really are as smart as people say you are.”
Alison patted his arm. “Pretty much.”
Jon smiled and picked up the folder and pretended to look at the college brochures.
++++
It was true. Alison was right. Jon did like to watch people. He did it as unobtrusively as possible. Catching poses and fractured postures on 35mm expanses.
It was okay to be a voyeur if you layered yourself between artistic expression and a camera.
Maybe that’s why it was easy for Jon to notice that Spencer wasn’t really in charge. Wasn’t really in control.
Most times it was the control that had Spencer.
++++
Jon started sleeping with William soon after they’d met. Nothing committed. Hell, this was William Beckett after all.
Just after a few too many tacked out rooms and Coronas, they’d eventually find each other.
Jon would watch William, gauge the level of drunkenness. He knew the exact moment, down to the sip and split second, when William wanted to be fucked.
Liquid loose hips and arching back always fit neatly into Jon’s bunk. He had no problem with it.
Neither did William.
++++
There were small instances at first. Biting remarks and cold indifferent little stares that made Jon wonder if it was Spencer’s modus operandi. Or if it was from Jon being the new guy.
From the little flinches and shuttered looks Ryan shot Brendon, he knew it wasn’t anything new.
But that didn’t make them right.
So, Jon watched and waited.
++++
“You shouldn’t talk to Ryan that way, you know.” Jon said over the top of his cup of coffee, swirled white and tan with stray bits of whipped cream and raw sugar.
“Excuse me?” Spencer asked and his eyebrow came up.
It was supposed to be a mocking gesture, but now that Jon knew better… it just seemed to be asking.
Asking for-
++++
It’s not that Jon wasn’t familiar with the scene. He’d read things. Seen porn. Hell, he hung out with William Beckett who was a wealth of sexual knowledge.
Plus he knew Pete Wentz via William Beckett.
Jon figured he’d at least earned an AA in sexual deviancy between the two of those guys.
He’d found out that William liked being held down during sex, have his body held down and driven into while harshly whispered commands brushed against damp, liquor stained skin.
Jon knew about the scene. He just never figured he’d be in it.
++++
- control.
“Excuse me?” Spencer asked again, lip curling a little at having to repeat himself.
His shoulders were tense and he was leaning forward. His body said I am in control. I am. Challenge me. I dare you.
Jon waited. Two beats, a pause for breath, and he set his cup down and leaned forward. Fingers sticking on the cool marble top, Jon said simply.
“You should not speak to Ryan that way. I won’t allow it, Spencer.”
The words fell like stones.
The soft murmur of the cafe faded into the background as he watched the words hit Spencer, pinging against his primary senses.
“You won’t allow me?” Spencer gritted out, eyes lit with challenge.
I dare you.
Jon sat back giving Spencer a sharp little smile of his own. “No.”
“And what the fuck are you going to do about it if I do?” Spencer spat out, eyes narrowed with-
Not venom.
Challenge.
Jon got up with his paper cup, brown band on white. “I’ll make you obey.”
The metal door of the waste bin swung shut as Spencer sat staring after Jon.
Jon didn’t have to turn to know that it was Spencer that watched him this time.
++++
Between William and Pete and a few girlfriends, Jon figured out the scene. Porn and William Beckett/Pete Wentz notwithstanding.
A girlfriend of his, Katrina with the short red hair, took him to a club outside of Chicago. No names. No strings.
“We’ll just check it out. Couldn’t hurt, right?” Call me Kat had said. “It’ll be kinky.”
Jon shrugged, figuring he’d get laid either way. “Sure.”
It didn’t take long for Jon to realize that the scene fit him.
Kat left soon after that, unnerved and weirded out. Jon felt, oddly comfortable.
++++
It all fell into place two days and four hours later.
Spencer shoved his feet (argyle socks, Patrick would be proud or envious. Both probably.) at Jon’s thigh on the couch. The same pissy and pissed off expression in the cafe.
Jon had watched Spencer. Had been watching. Transitioned verbs and made them past and present. He saw Spencer.
Spencer in repose. Not in relaxation, but a facisimile of it. A faked control of everything. Holding on so tight to glass sand.
Jon wondered when Spencer opened his hands if they spangled in multicolours.
“What did you mean?” Shovepushprod of sock feet against denim shielded thigh.
I’m in control. I take and sit and know and claim this space.
Jon yawned and closed his book. He set it aside and half turned, knocking Spencer’s feet off the couch. “Context is everything, Spencer.”
Spencer grimaced. “At the cafe, asshole. You know what I mean.”
“You mean when I said I’d make you obey.” Jon said letting the corner of his mouth curve. It was a little amusing seeing Spencer like this. Angry, upset, and… anticipatory.
Spencer tensed waiting for Jon to say something.
Anything.
Jon waited teased the moment out and finally slid his hand along the back of the couch; he watched Spencer track the motion with his eyes.
Still and breathing slow and shallow.
Waiting.
Jon’s hand finally settled on the side of Spencer’s neck, made no sign that he saw the small almost imperceptible shift forward of Spencer’s head. “I think you know how. But I do know if you want that, you have to ask, Spencer.” He brushed his thumb along Spencer’s neck, feeling the rabbiting pulse. The words were soft, unthreatening, almost flat. If Spencer wanted this, then he’d have to ask.
Spencer narrowed his eyes and jerked himself out of Jon’s grip. “You’re. I wouldn’t. I don’t need. Fuck me, you, Walker.” He punched Jon in the shoulder and stormed out of the room.
Jon picked his book up again and went back to reading. He didn’t flinch when the door slammed.
The best victory is when the opponent surrenders of its own accord before there are any actual hostilities… It is best to win without fighting.
++++
Jon was a patient guy. “You are one of the most… How the fuck do you just stay so still?” William had asked plonking down to sit on Jon’s ass.
Jon put a protective hand on the camera, not moving it from its position. He looked over his shoulder at William. He supposed sprawling out in the middle of a parking lot at ass o’ clock in the morning did look a little odd. The bus was refueling across the street, windows dark and the headlights a faint butter yellow smudge in the distance. He had thought all of them were asleep. “Good things come to those who wait, William. Ever heard that one?” He shifted, knowing that trying to unseat a determined William Beckett was a practice in failure, and sighed. “Five minutes, Bills. Just keep still for five minutes. It’ll be worth it.”
William mimed zipping his lips and he wiggled his bony ass into Jon’s and grinned.
Jon rolled his eyes and he figured it was the best he was going to get. He held his breath and then smiled. The sun started to peek timidly up between the broken boards and glassfronts of the old Pic N Save. William, it had to be noted, was surprisingly silent.
The camera clicked in the soft shushing way that only a manual SLR can. Jon held his breath, waiting for the right moment-ahh, there. The sun glowed warm and bloodorange red against splintered paint cracked wood. Jon smiled from behind the lens. He’d tell people it was named something insanely pretentious. But really, he’d simply catalogue it as, “Williamsburg, 6:04AM”.
“Is that how you see things, Jon?” William asked.
Jon almost laughed. He’d forgotten for a brief moment, only in brief moments can one really forget Becketts of the William variety, that William was there. “Just on good days, Bill.”
William nodded and he patted Jon’s shoulder. No hinting. No promise or invitation of anything. Just a soft touch. “Good things come to those who wait.”
Jon expected William to invite him back, up into the warm nest of blankets on the bus. William just unfolded and straightened, standing upright and above Jon.
And for a moment, Jon wished the sun forward, to backlight William, like a mighty hero.
“But don’t wait too long. ‘Cause even the sun moves, Jonny Boy.”
Jon rolled onto his back and stared up at the sky. When he finally sat up, the back of his sweatshirt was covered in little flecks of dried paint. They almost glittered in the watery early morning light.
Almost.
++++
The first time Jon topped, he nearly lost his nerve and walked straight back out of the room, out of the club, just out, but-
But she’d looked up at him, trusting.
Needing Jon. Needing what Jon could give her. What Jon could gift her with. A sense of peace for a small space of time. Take the control she didn’t want. Wanted Jon to care for it for her while she lost herself in the play.
Jon wanted to be that for her. He smiled and-
And that was that.
++++
Jon ran the towel over his hair and stepped out of the bathroom. He was tired and irritated and most of all fed up.
Spencer had been a complete and utter prick the entire day. Constantly sniping at Ryan and mocking Brendon. He did notice that Spencer made no comment in his direction at all. It was so blatant that even Brendon picked up on it.
“You’re bitching at everyone except Jon. Fair’s fair,” Brendon said glaring at the back of Spencer’s head.
Jon looked at Spencer from over the top of his magazine. “Turnabout is fair play as well.”
For a fraction of a second, Spencer’s body shifted, softened.
The moment ended when Ryan walked past. The words that rushed out of Spencer’s mouth struck hard and quick.
Jon threw the magazine down. “That’s enough, Spencer.”
Spencer sneered and stomped off to the back of the bus not reappearing till they got to the hotel. No one said a word as they filed one by one to a, hopefully clean, horizontal surface.
Jon wiped the condensation from the mirror, sighing and shaking his head. Maybe he was looking at this wrong. Maybe Spencer needed…
Fuck. Jon knew what Spencer needed. It wasn’t his fault that Spencer couldn’t deal with it. Couldn’t ask for it.
He slung the towel in the general area of the shower. The room was dark. No surprise there; it was just hitting midnight and he hadn’t bothered to turn more than the bedside lamp on. He had no idea where Ryan was, probably with Brendon if Spencer wasn’t there. He sighed again and nearly ran into the focus of his irritation.
Spencer was kneeling next to the bed.
Kneeling next to Jon’s bed.
Jon stood there and let himself be surprised for a full second. “Spencer?”
Spencer sat back on his heels and crossed his arms in front of himself. “You take really long showers.” He said looking up from under his bangs, not bothering to blow them out of the way.
“You stress me out.” Jon said, arms crossing over his chest. The room was comfortable, even naked and just coming out of the shower. Thank album sales for comfortable digs.
“I’m sorry,” Spencer whispered, under his breath and eyes looking anywhere but Jon.
“Why are you here, Spence?” Jon asked tone pleasantly blank.
Spencer’s fingers dug into his elbows, white against the pale green of his tshirt. A long forgotten cartoon artistically faded and scratched layered on top of thin cotton.
The silence stretched. Jon listened to the sharp tickticktick of Spencer’s watch.
“I’m only going to ask once more. Then I won’t ever again.” Jon said softly. He took a step and touched the side of Spencer’s neck. “Why are you here, Spencer?”
Spencer tensed with eyes downcast. “I need,” he shook his head trying to keep the words in or shake them loose. Jon had no idea. He doubted Spencer knew. “I need you. This. It’s hard. I have to be in charge. Because, because.” The words tumble out, galloping faster, tripping over their brothers and sisters. Trampling them in consonant sounds and stuttered syllables.
Jon slid his fingers under Spencer’s chin, tipping his face up. “You want me to take the control for you for a little bit. Tell you what you need.” He finished for Spencer, thumb edging at the corner of Spencer’s mouth.
Spencer blinked rapidly, breath going still, as he nodded. “Yes.”
“You have to ask.” Jon let Spencer look down. He knew it might take a while to break Spencer of the habit, but Jon was a patient man.
“I want you to make me obey.” Spencer whispered, through gritted teeth and a shaky breath. His cheeks burned crimson, and even in the semi dark, Jon could see the colour clash on Spencer’s skin.
Jon nodded, not that Spencer was looking. He made a note of that for future reference. “On your feet,” when Spencer balked at the command, Jon tapped his finger against Spencer’s neck. “You will obey orders, pet. If you do not, there will be repercussions. You do not get to choose the punishments. This will stop at any time I wish it. If it gets to be too much for you, you have a word.” He tipped Spencer’s chin up again. “You will use your word when it is too much. I need you to agree to this Spencer. Otherwise we are done.”
Spencer glared at Jon, body stiff and ready to flee or fly. Jon rubbed his thumb against Spencer’s neck again, shifting his fingers to touch the rabbiting pulse. “That is one of the only rules, pet. It is for me as much as you. I will try to watch, gauge your bottom or your point, but I need to know when you have to stop. I do not want to hurt you.”
Jon’s words may as well have been blows as Spencer finally folded, body curving in and toward Jon. “Marigold.” He breathed out softly.
The word sat there between them for a heartbeat and Jon kissed Spencer’s forehead, a brief chaste brush of lips. “On your feet, pet.”
Spencer obeyed this time, slowly climbing to his feet. His arms still hugged tightly around himself. Jon nodded, mouth pressed in a thin line. “Next time, I will not ask you twice.”
Jon waited.
Spencer swallowed and then nodded, eyes casting to the dark points on the floor, the shadowed corners.
“Yes, sir,” Jon supplied touching Spencer’s elbow.
Spencer’s entire body stilled and he nodded again. Voice soft he replied, “Yes, sir.”
Jon’s fingers trailed, breath soft against the back of Spencer’s arm, as he walked around Spencer. It wasn’t that he was appraising.
It was appreciation.
Spencer was his to care for now. “Off.” Jon said softly tugging at the hem of Spencer’s shirt. The hesitation was shorter this time, but the fingers still fumbling as he pulled it up and off. “Good, pet.” Jon was pleased to note the faint rush of heat colour Spencer’s neck.
He had a brief image of collars and restraints, but he shelved the thought for later discussion. “Pants as well, pet.” Jon murmured as he moved to the bed and sat, his back against the headboard watching Spencer strip and stand awkwardly in the center of the room, shivering in the warm hotel room in nothing but thin cotton shorts and bare feet. His arms crept to wrap around his body again, anchoring himself and looking at Jon, biting his lip.
Jon smiled softly and he held out his hand. “Come here.” Spencer took the first faltering step, the next quickened, till he all but crashed into Jon on the bed. His body stiff again, but pressing into Jon for warmth.
The slow gentle sweep of Jon’s hands against Spencer’s back soon relaxed the tightened muscles and Spencer’s breathing slowed. “Sleep, pet. It will all sort itself out soon.”
Spencer lifted his head and bit his lip. He opened his mouth to deny it, but Jon shook his head.
“It will. Sleep.”
Spencer’s whispered, “Yes, sir.” and the soft creep of his fingers around Jon’s wrist were all accepted with a reassuring squeeze against the back of Spencer’s neck.
Spencer’s eyes closed and Jon watched him sleep.
Patience was something Jon was good at after all.
++++
The changes were subtle.
Spencer was quicker to laugh now than snap off something biting now. He smiled more often and generally just looked happier. Jon knew that Spencer took too much on. Dwelled too much on what he had to do, what needed to be done, and what hadn’t been done correctly.
Jon knew because he still watched. Now watching Spencer was part of his job and part of his play.
Spencer spent most of his nights with Jon now. He seemed to need the quiet headspace more than Jon thought.
Brendon, it turned out, saw more than Jon gave him credit for. Not that Jon could be blamed, watching Spencers did take up quite a bit of time.
“So, are you two dating or what?” Brendon asked when Spencer stumbled out from Jon’s room looking sleep rumpled but satisfied.
Jon simply raised an eyebrow and let Zac pass between them. “Or what,” he said patting Brendon on the arm and catching the elevator, smiling not unkindly as the doors slid shut on Brendon’s curious expression.
++++
It wasn’t just sex. It was more.
Not that Jon ever said that out loud. It would sound way too girly and frankly they had enough people calling them faggots. Not that Ryan’s velveteen roseplosion vests were helping.
It was more than sex.
Not that there wasn’t sex. Good, biting, bruising, back scratching sex.
Jon had a suspicion that Spencer had in him a mild public sex kink. It would explain why the boy continued to misbehave and snipe at Ryan in interviews and be generally bitchy when he knew Jon would have to punish him.
Jon sat two people away from Spencer, wondering fleetingly if Spencer manouveured it so. Brendon and Ryan the focus as Spencer inserted the occasional snide remark, egged on by Brendon. Brendon, however, wasn’t Jon’s to mind. Spencer’s mouth opened and his eyes narrowed on Ryan. Jon leaned back in his chair stretching out and he leaned over to press his fingers against the back of Spencer’s neck, just below the hairline.
Spencer’s mouth closed and he dropped his head ever so slightly. Jon finished his stretch and yawned.
Brendon blinked and he filled in the gap of silence.
After the interview, Jon pulled Spencer into a bathroom, yanking his pants open. “Misbehavior like that will not be tolerated, pet.” Jon growled and he turned Spencer to face the mirror. His hips pressed Spencer’s into the cold hard unyielding surface of the counter. The rough weave of jeans against Spencer’s skin made him moan. He pushed back against Jon erection teasingly. The sharp crack of Jon’s open palm against Spencer’s ass made Spencer whimper and jerk forward, thrusting inadvertantly against the slick cold surface tile. Jon’s hand found the packet of lube in Spencer’s pocket. “Planned this?”
Spencer bit his lip, hands bracing themselves against the metal edges of the mirror. He nodded, head bowed. “Yes, sir. Wanted you to fuck me here.”
Jon’s fingers pressed hard and not wet enough into Spencer. His other hand covered Spencer’s mouth. “No noise, pet. Wouldn’t want them to walk in, would you?” Spencer shook his head and pushed back against Jon’s fingers. “Maybe you do, pet. Maybe you want people to see you like this. So out of control, letting people know that it’s me who can bend you over a dirty public bathroom sink and fuck you like this.”
Spencer’s whimper was loud even around the thickness of Jon’s fingers against his mouth.
Jon pulled his hand away from Spencer’s mouth, slick with saliva now. He wrapped his hand around Spencer’s cock and stroked him roughly, fingers moving in tandem in Spencer’s ass. “Come, pet.” Spencer shakes his head.
“I want your cock, please, sir. Please,” Spencer whispered, pushing and trying to rub his hip against the front of Jon’s pants.
Jon twisted his hand just under the head, tight under the crown. His fingers pressed up, hitting the spot that had Spencer arched up bowstring taut against him. “No, you don’t deserve that after your behavior today, pet.”
Spencer whimpered and cried out. “Please, sir,” he begged, fingers streaking smeary fingerprints against the mirror.
“No, come, pet. Come, or your punishment tonight will be doubled.” Jon said softly and bit the side of Spencer’s neck.
Spencer sobbed out another plea and came, shaking and spilling into the sink. Jon pulled his fingers free and he used the other sink to wash his hands and rinse away the evidence of Spencer’s release. “I will not tolerate you insulting Ryan, your friend, your best friend, even for the sake of an interview. You hurt him, pet. You know that better than I do. You will apologize and if it is a proper apology, your punishment may be lessened.” He helped Spencer back into his clothes, adjusting them properly. “Understood?”
Spencer nodded, flushing shamefully. “I’m sorry, sir.” He leaned his forehead against Jon’s shoulder.
Jon rubbed Spencer’s back and kissed his cheek. “I know, Spencer. Go talk to him. He needs to hear that more than I do. We’ll deal with what you need to do to better it tonight, okay?”
Spencer smiled lopsidely and nodded. He gave Jon an almost awkward cheek kiss and ducked out of the bathroom.
Jon just shook his head and pretended not to see Brendon frown at him from across the room as Spencer apologized to Ryan.
++++
“No.”
Jon looked up, smiling briefly. “Come on in, Spence.”
Brendon and Ryan looked up from the couch, sitting close together. Ryan looked confused and Brendon just kept frowning.
Spencer shut the door behind him and he looked from the couch to Jon and back again. “No, I’m not. Why are they here?” He tossed his bag onto the floor.
It was an agitated gesture. Something to show Brendon and Ryan that everything was normal. It was okay. Nothing out of place.
Jon raised an eyebrow, and Spencer quickly retrieved his bag and set it aside neatly.
Ryan still looked confused and Brendon’s eyes were widening at an alarming rate. “You. He. Oh.”
Spencer gritted his teeth and glared at Brendon. “Your punishment tonight, is to let Ryan and Brendon see you like this. To see you with me.” Jon looked at Brendon and Ryan, smiling a little. “This is the or what, Brendon.”
“Oh,” Brendon said eyes still widen staring at Spencer.
Spencer fidgeted uncomfortably and he looked at Jon. “Please, sir.” He bit his lip and would not look at Brendon or Ryan.
Jon cupped the side of Spencer’s neck, thumb touching under Spencer’s jaw. “Just say it, pet. And we’ll stop.”
Spencer looked at Jon and then back at Ryan and Brendon, who both looked decidely interested.
And turned on.
Spencer swallowed and he ducked his head. He couldn’t say the word, just nodded, touching his fingers to the outside of Jon’s wrist as it rested against his neck.
“Strip. On the bed, hands and knees so they can see.” Jon said softly, kissing Spencer’s ear. He waited till Spencer moved before turning back to Brendon and Ryan. “This is his apology to you. If you’re not comfortable, you can leave. But you are not allowed to make him feel bad or dirty or wrong for this. Got it?” He looked first Brendon in the eye and then Ryan.
They both nodded. Ryan opened his mouth and waited till Jon nodded before speaking. “Is it okay if…”
“If Ryan and I, uh.” Brendon tried to finish for Ryan, but failed.
Jon smiled and nodded. “You may. You may join us on the bed if you like.” Jon would have laughed at the speed with which both Ryan and Brendon got to the bed, but he didn’t. He waited till they were settled before moving Spencer a little. “There, pet. So they can see better.”
Spencer’s neck and cheeks were flushed redpink with heat and he looked up at Ryan and Brendon, smiling nervously.
“Answer honestly, pet. I want them to hear the answers.” Jon wet his fingers with lube and pushed his finger in slowly. Spencer’s chin dropped to his chest and he moaned. “Tell them what you want.”
Spencer whimpered biting his lip and pushing back. “I want you to fuck me.” Jon stilled his hand. “All of it, pet.” Spencer’s body twisted back trying to get Jon’s finger deeper. “Please,” he begged.
Ryan reached for Brendon’s hand and pressed back against his chest. Brendon pressed his hand down against Ryan’s zipper, squeezing lightly.
“I-I want you to fuck me with your fingers, stretch me for your cock,” Spencer stammered between moans. “But not too much, I like it when it hurts a little. L-love feeling you push inside me rough and hard, then go slow.” The words streamed past Spencer’s lips as Jon prepped him slowly. “So slow like I don’t know if you’re going to let me come. Keep me on the edge all night.”
Ryan whimpered and turned back to kiss Brendon. Brendon’s fingers worked the front of Ryan’s pants open, fingers wrapping around Ryan’s cock with the ease of many similar nights.
Jon leaned down to kiss the back of Spencer’s shoulders. “More, pet. What do you want right now?”
Spencer bit his lip and he looked up at Brendon and Ryan. “I want,” he whimpered when Jon’s fingers left him, empty now. He shivered softly watching Brendon kiss Ryan’s neck, still watching Spencer as he stroked Ryan. “I want to suck Ryan while Brendon fucks him.”
Both Ryan and Brendon froze looking from Spencer and then to Jon.
Jon broke the silence with a little laugh. “Well, that does depend on what Ryan and Brendon have to say, pet. Boys?”
Ryan nodded eagerly. Brendon grinned. “Is this the part where I say shit about ruining the group dynamic?”
“Not unless you think it’ll happen.” Jon said stripping quickly.
“Do I look stupid?” Brendon asked, looking over at Ryan kissing Spencer softly, as first kisses should be. Spencer whispered something into Ryan’s ear and they both laughed.
Jon shook his head and he started to press into Spencer, not waiting for him to steady himself. Spencer gasped against Ryan’s mouth and moaned. “Thank you, sir.” He whispered and gripped the sheets tight. He went down to his forearms, letting Jon’s thrusts push him forward. A handful of minutes passed with Spencer only centering on the feel of Jon inside him.
Jon ran a gentle hand down Spencer’s thigh. “So good, pet.”
Spencer shifted back, the pleasure from the words almost as good as the sensation of Jon fucking him. The bed shifted and when Spencer lifted his head again Ryan was back, guiding his mouth to his cock.
Brendon knelt behind Ryan, supporting him against his chest. Both Brendon and Ryan flushed from their own exertions. It was an awkward dance at first with Ryan pushing up into Spencer’s mouth and then sinking back down onto Brendon, but they soon found a rhythm.
Ryan was the first to come. He clutched at Spencer’s shoulder with one hand, the other in his hair tugging sharply. “Fuck, Spence.”
Brendon followed right after, unable to stay through the tightening of Ryan around him. He groaned pressing his face against Ryan’s still shaking shoulder. “God,” he muffled against Ryan’s skin.
Spencer pushed back against Jon, pleading softly, “Please,” he jerked up sharply when Jon’s hand closed slick and warm around Spencer’s cock. Spencer pressed back against Jon’s chest, arching up body curving to meet the press of Jon’s hand.
“Come, pet. Let them see,” Jon ordered.
Spencer cried out and came, striping Jon’s hand and his own belly and chest.
Jon lifted up into Spencer twice more before following him down. Spencer let out a softer pleased sound feeling Jon shuddering behind him. He nuzzled Jon’s neck gently. “Thank you, sir.”
Jon kissed Spencer’s cheek and he looked over at Ryan and Brendon, both still panting softly on the bed. He watched proudly as Spencer crawled over to Ryan and laid down next to him, their heads on the same pillow. “I really am sorry, Ry. I don’t mean to be such a dick. I just get so-” Spencer said softly.
Ryan kissed him and hugged him. “I know. I get it.”
Jon just sat back and watched, smiling at Spencer with pride.
++++
It’s nowhere near perfect still.
But it’s better.
Jon sat on the bus and watched the prairie land stream by in gold and yellow smears next to blue gray skies. Brendon and Ryan were at the fridge arguing over cereal or pop tarts or anything else that pissy singers and pissy songwriters argued over.
Spencer looked up from his book and smiled. “What are you looking at?”
Jon rubbed the back of his knuckles against Spencer’s cheek. “Something.”
Spencer’s mouth curved into that half smile that Jon knew only came out rarely.
He’d keep watching to see it again and again.
He had no doubt in that.
fin.
Fandom: panic!at the disco
Pairings: spencer smith/jon walker, ryan ross/brendon urie, jon walker/spencer smith/ryan ross/brendon urie
Rating: nc-17
Disclaimer: all true. yup. all of it. except where it’s not. being everything with vowels and cosonants.
Author’s notes: written for kosher_pareve for the DYW Teen Hearts Fic Exchange. first, i apologize for the lateness. second, she asked for a multitude of things, but i focused on the panic!gsf. well, because… hell. it’s more than one. i really do need to thank schuyler & eleanor_lavish- they were the impetus. thank you to my betas schuyler & tobyzantium. also thank you to canadiankracka & callsigns as they read the earlier versions and told me it didn’t suck too badly. thanks to sun tzu for the quote and diet coke (for lots of things) and xoverau, iphignia939, & lizardling for the cheerleading. marigolde for the cheerleading and the use of her lj name. ahem. all other mistakes are mine.
Warnings: D/s themes abound. not your cuppa? mosey on by.
Word count: 5382 [approximately. give or take a word or two.]
acquiescence hard gained
Jon had no problem slipping into his role when they asked him to be in the band. Being able to change and adapt is rule more than exception in this business.
Well, it is if you want to survive.
Looking over at the three other faces, all Jon could do was nod. He shook their hands and inked his name on the dotted lines.
It would work.
++++
At first the fans had no idea what to make of him. Not the brooding rockstar. Not the pretty boy (though his mom would object to that and pull out albums from when rat tails and slouch socks were the in thing.). He knew that he wasn’t the older brother type, even if he was older.
He wondered if he could just define himself as the quiet one that observed.
The fans, in their omnipotence, delegated him as the Cute, Lovable But Not the Lead Singer One.
Jon was surprisingly comfortable with the role. It fit in a way that broken in jeans and wash worn t-shirts did.
++++
Spencer was in charge. He made plans and talked the talk. Jon noticed that right off. Ryan had the words. Brendon had the voice.
But Spencer. Spencer had the control.
It took Jon a little longer to notice that perhaps Spencer didn’t want that role.
++++
Once in high school, Jon had a really in depth conversation with the student body president - Alison Reilly. She was captain of the Debate Club, fast track to Penn, and liked to do competitive riding in her spare time. She’d been talking to Jon about college prep classes and Jon had just looked at her with a little smile.
“I’m prepared not to go to college. It’s just something I’m not going to do, I don’t think.” Jon passed the file folder of papers back to her with a smile.
Alison looked at him in surprise. “What do you mean?”
“Not going to college or not thinking?”
Alison laughed. She has a pretty laugh. A perfect pretty little laugh. Jon noticed that one of her bicuspids was a little crooked. “Oh, I know you think Jon. You do a lot of that but don’t want anyone to know you do. You see a lot of things most people don’t.”
Jon fixed her with a look. “I guess you really are as smart as people say you are.”
Alison patted his arm. “Pretty much.”
Jon smiled and picked up the folder and pretended to look at the college brochures.
++++
It was true. Alison was right. Jon did like to watch people. He did it as unobtrusively as possible. Catching poses and fractured postures on 35mm expanses.
It was okay to be a voyeur if you layered yourself between artistic expression and a camera.
Maybe that’s why it was easy for Jon to notice that Spencer wasn’t really in charge. Wasn’t really in control.
Most times it was the control that had Spencer.
++++
Jon started sleeping with William soon after they’d met. Nothing committed. Hell, this was William Beckett after all.
Just after a few too many tacked out rooms and Coronas, they’d eventually find each other.
Jon would watch William, gauge the level of drunkenness. He knew the exact moment, down to the sip and split second, when William wanted to be fucked.
Liquid loose hips and arching back always fit neatly into Jon’s bunk. He had no problem with it.
Neither did William.
++++
There were small instances at first. Biting remarks and cold indifferent little stares that made Jon wonder if it was Spencer’s modus operandi. Or if it was from Jon being the new guy.
From the little flinches and shuttered looks Ryan shot Brendon, he knew it wasn’t anything new.
But that didn’t make them right.
So, Jon watched and waited.
++++
“You shouldn’t talk to Ryan that way, you know.” Jon said over the top of his cup of coffee, swirled white and tan with stray bits of whipped cream and raw sugar.
“Excuse me?” Spencer asked and his eyebrow came up.
It was supposed to be a mocking gesture, but now that Jon knew better… it just seemed to be asking.
Asking for-
++++
It’s not that Jon wasn’t familiar with the scene. He’d read things. Seen porn. Hell, he hung out with William Beckett who was a wealth of sexual knowledge.
Plus he knew Pete Wentz via William Beckett.
Jon figured he’d at least earned an AA in sexual deviancy between the two of those guys.
He’d found out that William liked being held down during sex, have his body held down and driven into while harshly whispered commands brushed against damp, liquor stained skin.
Jon knew about the scene. He just never figured he’d be in it.
++++
- control.
“Excuse me?” Spencer asked again, lip curling a little at having to repeat himself.
His shoulders were tense and he was leaning forward. His body said I am in control. I am. Challenge me. I dare you.
Jon waited. Two beats, a pause for breath, and he set his cup down and leaned forward. Fingers sticking on the cool marble top, Jon said simply.
“You should not speak to Ryan that way. I won’t allow it, Spencer.”
The words fell like stones.
The soft murmur of the cafe faded into the background as he watched the words hit Spencer, pinging against his primary senses.
“You won’t allow me?” Spencer gritted out, eyes lit with challenge.
I dare you.
Jon sat back giving Spencer a sharp little smile of his own. “No.”
“And what the fuck are you going to do about it if I do?” Spencer spat out, eyes narrowed with-
Not venom.
Challenge.
Jon got up with his paper cup, brown band on white. “I’ll make you obey.”
The metal door of the waste bin swung shut as Spencer sat staring after Jon.
Jon didn’t have to turn to know that it was Spencer that watched him this time.
++++
Between William and Pete and a few girlfriends, Jon figured out the scene. Porn and William Beckett/Pete Wentz notwithstanding.
A girlfriend of his, Katrina with the short red hair, took him to a club outside of Chicago. No names. No strings.
“We’ll just check it out. Couldn’t hurt, right?” Call me Kat had said. “It’ll be kinky.”
Jon shrugged, figuring he’d get laid either way. “Sure.”
It didn’t take long for Jon to realize that the scene fit him.
Kat left soon after that, unnerved and weirded out. Jon felt, oddly comfortable.
++++
It all fell into place two days and four hours later.
Spencer shoved his feet (argyle socks, Patrick would be proud or envious. Both probably.) at Jon’s thigh on the couch. The same pissy and pissed off expression in the cafe.
Jon had watched Spencer. Had been watching. Transitioned verbs and made them past and present. He saw Spencer.
Spencer in repose. Not in relaxation, but a facisimile of it. A faked control of everything. Holding on so tight to glass sand.
Jon wondered when Spencer opened his hands if they spangled in multicolours.
“What did you mean?” Shovepushprod of sock feet against denim shielded thigh.
I’m in control. I take and sit and know and claim this space.
Jon yawned and closed his book. He set it aside and half turned, knocking Spencer’s feet off the couch. “Context is everything, Spencer.”
Spencer grimaced. “At the cafe, asshole. You know what I mean.”
“You mean when I said I’d make you obey.” Jon said letting the corner of his mouth curve. It was a little amusing seeing Spencer like this. Angry, upset, and… anticipatory.
Spencer tensed waiting for Jon to say something.
Anything.
Jon waited teased the moment out and finally slid his hand along the back of the couch; he watched Spencer track the motion with his eyes.
Still and breathing slow and shallow.
Waiting.
Jon’s hand finally settled on the side of Spencer’s neck, made no sign that he saw the small almost imperceptible shift forward of Spencer’s head. “I think you know how. But I do know if you want that, you have to ask, Spencer.” He brushed his thumb along Spencer’s neck, feeling the rabbiting pulse. The words were soft, unthreatening, almost flat. If Spencer wanted this, then he’d have to ask.
Spencer narrowed his eyes and jerked himself out of Jon’s grip. “You’re. I wouldn’t. I don’t need. Fuck me, you, Walker.” He punched Jon in the shoulder and stormed out of the room.
Jon picked his book up again and went back to reading. He didn’t flinch when the door slammed.
The best victory is when the opponent surrenders of its own accord before there are any actual hostilities… It is best to win without fighting.
++++
Jon was a patient guy. “You are one of the most… How the fuck do you just stay so still?” William had asked plonking down to sit on Jon’s ass.
Jon put a protective hand on the camera, not moving it from its position. He looked over his shoulder at William. He supposed sprawling out in the middle of a parking lot at ass o’ clock in the morning did look a little odd. The bus was refueling across the street, windows dark and the headlights a faint butter yellow smudge in the distance. He had thought all of them were asleep. “Good things come to those who wait, William. Ever heard that one?” He shifted, knowing that trying to unseat a determined William Beckett was a practice in failure, and sighed. “Five minutes, Bills. Just keep still for five minutes. It’ll be worth it.”
William mimed zipping his lips and he wiggled his bony ass into Jon’s and grinned.
Jon rolled his eyes and he figured it was the best he was going to get. He held his breath and then smiled. The sun started to peek timidly up between the broken boards and glassfronts of the old Pic N Save. William, it had to be noted, was surprisingly silent.
The camera clicked in the soft shushing way that only a manual SLR can. Jon held his breath, waiting for the right moment-ahh, there. The sun glowed warm and bloodorange red against splintered paint cracked wood. Jon smiled from behind the lens. He’d tell people it was named something insanely pretentious. But really, he’d simply catalogue it as, “Williamsburg, 6:04AM”.
“Is that how you see things, Jon?” William asked.
Jon almost laughed. He’d forgotten for a brief moment, only in brief moments can one really forget Becketts of the William variety, that William was there. “Just on good days, Bill.”
William nodded and he patted Jon’s shoulder. No hinting. No promise or invitation of anything. Just a soft touch. “Good things come to those who wait.”
Jon expected William to invite him back, up into the warm nest of blankets on the bus. William just unfolded and straightened, standing upright and above Jon.
And for a moment, Jon wished the sun forward, to backlight William, like a mighty hero.
“But don’t wait too long. ‘Cause even the sun moves, Jonny Boy.”
Jon rolled onto his back and stared up at the sky. When he finally sat up, the back of his sweatshirt was covered in little flecks of dried paint. They almost glittered in the watery early morning light.
Almost.
++++
The first time Jon topped, he nearly lost his nerve and walked straight back out of the room, out of the club, just out, but-
But she’d looked up at him, trusting.
Needing Jon. Needing what Jon could give her. What Jon could gift her with. A sense of peace for a small space of time. Take the control she didn’t want. Wanted Jon to care for it for her while she lost herself in the play.
Jon wanted to be that for her. He smiled and-
And that was that.
++++
Jon ran the towel over his hair and stepped out of the bathroom. He was tired and irritated and most of all fed up.
Spencer had been a complete and utter prick the entire day. Constantly sniping at Ryan and mocking Brendon. He did notice that Spencer made no comment in his direction at all. It was so blatant that even Brendon picked up on it.
“You’re bitching at everyone except Jon. Fair’s fair,” Brendon said glaring at the back of Spencer’s head.
Jon looked at Spencer from over the top of his magazine. “Turnabout is fair play as well.”
For a fraction of a second, Spencer’s body shifted, softened.
The moment ended when Ryan walked past. The words that rushed out of Spencer’s mouth struck hard and quick.
Jon threw the magazine down. “That’s enough, Spencer.”
Spencer sneered and stomped off to the back of the bus not reappearing till they got to the hotel. No one said a word as they filed one by one to a, hopefully clean, horizontal surface.
Jon wiped the condensation from the mirror, sighing and shaking his head. Maybe he was looking at this wrong. Maybe Spencer needed…
Fuck. Jon knew what Spencer needed. It wasn’t his fault that Spencer couldn’t deal with it. Couldn’t ask for it.
He slung the towel in the general area of the shower. The room was dark. No surprise there; it was just hitting midnight and he hadn’t bothered to turn more than the bedside lamp on. He had no idea where Ryan was, probably with Brendon if Spencer wasn’t there. He sighed again and nearly ran into the focus of his irritation.
Spencer was kneeling next to the bed.
Kneeling next to Jon’s bed.
Jon stood there and let himself be surprised for a full second. “Spencer?”
Spencer sat back on his heels and crossed his arms in front of himself. “You take really long showers.” He said looking up from under his bangs, not bothering to blow them out of the way.
“You stress me out.” Jon said, arms crossing over his chest. The room was comfortable, even naked and just coming out of the shower. Thank album sales for comfortable digs.
“I’m sorry,” Spencer whispered, under his breath and eyes looking anywhere but Jon.
“Why are you here, Spence?” Jon asked tone pleasantly blank.
Spencer’s fingers dug into his elbows, white against the pale green of his tshirt. A long forgotten cartoon artistically faded and scratched layered on top of thin cotton.
The silence stretched. Jon listened to the sharp tickticktick of Spencer’s watch.
“I’m only going to ask once more. Then I won’t ever again.” Jon said softly. He took a step and touched the side of Spencer’s neck. “Why are you here, Spencer?”
Spencer tensed with eyes downcast. “I need,” he shook his head trying to keep the words in or shake them loose. Jon had no idea. He doubted Spencer knew. “I need you. This. It’s hard. I have to be in charge. Because, because.” The words tumble out, galloping faster, tripping over their brothers and sisters. Trampling them in consonant sounds and stuttered syllables.
Jon slid his fingers under Spencer’s chin, tipping his face up. “You want me to take the control for you for a little bit. Tell you what you need.” He finished for Spencer, thumb edging at the corner of Spencer’s mouth.
Spencer blinked rapidly, breath going still, as he nodded. “Yes.”
“You have to ask.” Jon let Spencer look down. He knew it might take a while to break Spencer of the habit, but Jon was a patient man.
“I want you to make me obey.” Spencer whispered, through gritted teeth and a shaky breath. His cheeks burned crimson, and even in the semi dark, Jon could see the colour clash on Spencer’s skin.
Jon nodded, not that Spencer was looking. He made a note of that for future reference. “On your feet,” when Spencer balked at the command, Jon tapped his finger against Spencer’s neck. “You will obey orders, pet. If you do not, there will be repercussions. You do not get to choose the punishments. This will stop at any time I wish it. If it gets to be too much for you, you have a word.” He tipped Spencer’s chin up again. “You will use your word when it is too much. I need you to agree to this Spencer. Otherwise we are done.”
Spencer glared at Jon, body stiff and ready to flee or fly. Jon rubbed his thumb against Spencer’s neck again, shifting his fingers to touch the rabbiting pulse. “That is one of the only rules, pet. It is for me as much as you. I will try to watch, gauge your bottom or your point, but I need to know when you have to stop. I do not want to hurt you.”
Jon’s words may as well have been blows as Spencer finally folded, body curving in and toward Jon. “Marigold.” He breathed out softly.
The word sat there between them for a heartbeat and Jon kissed Spencer’s forehead, a brief chaste brush of lips. “On your feet, pet.”
Spencer obeyed this time, slowly climbing to his feet. His arms still hugged tightly around himself. Jon nodded, mouth pressed in a thin line. “Next time, I will not ask you twice.”
Jon waited.
Spencer swallowed and then nodded, eyes casting to the dark points on the floor, the shadowed corners.
“Yes, sir,” Jon supplied touching Spencer’s elbow.
Spencer’s entire body stilled and he nodded again. Voice soft he replied, “Yes, sir.”
Jon’s fingers trailed, breath soft against the back of Spencer’s arm, as he walked around Spencer. It wasn’t that he was appraising.
It was appreciation.
Spencer was his to care for now. “Off.” Jon said softly tugging at the hem of Spencer’s shirt. The hesitation was shorter this time, but the fingers still fumbling as he pulled it up and off. “Good, pet.” Jon was pleased to note the faint rush of heat colour Spencer’s neck.
He had a brief image of collars and restraints, but he shelved the thought for later discussion. “Pants as well, pet.” Jon murmured as he moved to the bed and sat, his back against the headboard watching Spencer strip and stand awkwardly in the center of the room, shivering in the warm hotel room in nothing but thin cotton shorts and bare feet. His arms crept to wrap around his body again, anchoring himself and looking at Jon, biting his lip.
Jon smiled softly and he held out his hand. “Come here.” Spencer took the first faltering step, the next quickened, till he all but crashed into Jon on the bed. His body stiff again, but pressing into Jon for warmth.
The slow gentle sweep of Jon’s hands against Spencer’s back soon relaxed the tightened muscles and Spencer’s breathing slowed. “Sleep, pet. It will all sort itself out soon.”
Spencer lifted his head and bit his lip. He opened his mouth to deny it, but Jon shook his head.
“It will. Sleep.”
Spencer’s whispered, “Yes, sir.” and the soft creep of his fingers around Jon’s wrist were all accepted with a reassuring squeeze against the back of Spencer’s neck.
Spencer’s eyes closed and Jon watched him sleep.
Patience was something Jon was good at after all.
++++
The changes were subtle.
Spencer was quicker to laugh now than snap off something biting now. He smiled more often and generally just looked happier. Jon knew that Spencer took too much on. Dwelled too much on what he had to do, what needed to be done, and what hadn’t been done correctly.
Jon knew because he still watched. Now watching Spencer was part of his job and part of his play.
Spencer spent most of his nights with Jon now. He seemed to need the quiet headspace more than Jon thought.
Brendon, it turned out, saw more than Jon gave him credit for. Not that Jon could be blamed, watching Spencers did take up quite a bit of time.
“So, are you two dating or what?” Brendon asked when Spencer stumbled out from Jon’s room looking sleep rumpled but satisfied.
Jon simply raised an eyebrow and let Zac pass between them. “Or what,” he said patting Brendon on the arm and catching the elevator, smiling not unkindly as the doors slid shut on Brendon’s curious expression.
++++
It wasn’t just sex. It was more.
Not that Jon ever said that out loud. It would sound way too girly and frankly they had enough people calling them faggots. Not that Ryan’s velveteen roseplosion vests were helping.
It was more than sex.
Not that there wasn’t sex. Good, biting, bruising, back scratching sex.
Jon had a suspicion that Spencer had in him a mild public sex kink. It would explain why the boy continued to misbehave and snipe at Ryan in interviews and be generally bitchy when he knew Jon would have to punish him.
Jon sat two people away from Spencer, wondering fleetingly if Spencer manouveured it so. Brendon and Ryan the focus as Spencer inserted the occasional snide remark, egged on by Brendon. Brendon, however, wasn’t Jon’s to mind. Spencer’s mouth opened and his eyes narrowed on Ryan. Jon leaned back in his chair stretching out and he leaned over to press his fingers against the back of Spencer’s neck, just below the hairline.
Spencer’s mouth closed and he dropped his head ever so slightly. Jon finished his stretch and yawned.
Brendon blinked and he filled in the gap of silence.
After the interview, Jon pulled Spencer into a bathroom, yanking his pants open. “Misbehavior like that will not be tolerated, pet.” Jon growled and he turned Spencer to face the mirror. His hips pressed Spencer’s into the cold hard unyielding surface of the counter. The rough weave of jeans against Spencer’s skin made him moan. He pushed back against Jon erection teasingly. The sharp crack of Jon’s open palm against Spencer’s ass made Spencer whimper and jerk forward, thrusting inadvertantly against the slick cold surface tile. Jon’s hand found the packet of lube in Spencer’s pocket. “Planned this?”
Spencer bit his lip, hands bracing themselves against the metal edges of the mirror. He nodded, head bowed. “Yes, sir. Wanted you to fuck me here.”
Jon’s fingers pressed hard and not wet enough into Spencer. His other hand covered Spencer’s mouth. “No noise, pet. Wouldn’t want them to walk in, would you?” Spencer shook his head and pushed back against Jon’s fingers. “Maybe you do, pet. Maybe you want people to see you like this. So out of control, letting people know that it’s me who can bend you over a dirty public bathroom sink and fuck you like this.”
Spencer’s whimper was loud even around the thickness of Jon’s fingers against his mouth.
Jon pulled his hand away from Spencer’s mouth, slick with saliva now. He wrapped his hand around Spencer’s cock and stroked him roughly, fingers moving in tandem in Spencer’s ass. “Come, pet.” Spencer shakes his head.
“I want your cock, please, sir. Please,” Spencer whispered, pushing and trying to rub his hip against the front of Jon’s pants.
Jon twisted his hand just under the head, tight under the crown. His fingers pressed up, hitting the spot that had Spencer arched up bowstring taut against him. “No, you don’t deserve that after your behavior today, pet.”
Spencer whimpered and cried out. “Please, sir,” he begged, fingers streaking smeary fingerprints against the mirror.
“No, come, pet. Come, or your punishment tonight will be doubled.” Jon said softly and bit the side of Spencer’s neck.
Spencer sobbed out another plea and came, shaking and spilling into the sink. Jon pulled his fingers free and he used the other sink to wash his hands and rinse away the evidence of Spencer’s release. “I will not tolerate you insulting Ryan, your friend, your best friend, even for the sake of an interview. You hurt him, pet. You know that better than I do. You will apologize and if it is a proper apology, your punishment may be lessened.” He helped Spencer back into his clothes, adjusting them properly. “Understood?”
Spencer nodded, flushing shamefully. “I’m sorry, sir.” He leaned his forehead against Jon’s shoulder.
Jon rubbed Spencer’s back and kissed his cheek. “I know, Spencer. Go talk to him. He needs to hear that more than I do. We’ll deal with what you need to do to better it tonight, okay?”
Spencer smiled lopsidely and nodded. He gave Jon an almost awkward cheek kiss and ducked out of the bathroom.
Jon just shook his head and pretended not to see Brendon frown at him from across the room as Spencer apologized to Ryan.
++++
“No.”
Jon looked up, smiling briefly. “Come on in, Spence.”
Brendon and Ryan looked up from the couch, sitting close together. Ryan looked confused and Brendon just kept frowning.
Spencer shut the door behind him and he looked from the couch to Jon and back again. “No, I’m not. Why are they here?” He tossed his bag onto the floor.
It was an agitated gesture. Something to show Brendon and Ryan that everything was normal. It was okay. Nothing out of place.
Jon raised an eyebrow, and Spencer quickly retrieved his bag and set it aside neatly.
Ryan still looked confused and Brendon’s eyes were widening at an alarming rate. “You. He. Oh.”
Spencer gritted his teeth and glared at Brendon. “Your punishment tonight, is to let Ryan and Brendon see you like this. To see you with me.” Jon looked at Brendon and Ryan, smiling a little. “This is the or what, Brendon.”
“Oh,” Brendon said eyes still widen staring at Spencer.
Spencer fidgeted uncomfortably and he looked at Jon. “Please, sir.” He bit his lip and would not look at Brendon or Ryan.
Jon cupped the side of Spencer’s neck, thumb touching under Spencer’s jaw. “Just say it, pet. And we’ll stop.”
Spencer looked at Jon and then back at Ryan and Brendon, who both looked decidely interested.
And turned on.
Spencer swallowed and he ducked his head. He couldn’t say the word, just nodded, touching his fingers to the outside of Jon’s wrist as it rested against his neck.
“Strip. On the bed, hands and knees so they can see.” Jon said softly, kissing Spencer’s ear. He waited till Spencer moved before turning back to Brendon and Ryan. “This is his apology to you. If you’re not comfortable, you can leave. But you are not allowed to make him feel bad or dirty or wrong for this. Got it?” He looked first Brendon in the eye and then Ryan.
They both nodded. Ryan opened his mouth and waited till Jon nodded before speaking. “Is it okay if…”
“If Ryan and I, uh.” Brendon tried to finish for Ryan, but failed.
Jon smiled and nodded. “You may. You may join us on the bed if you like.” Jon would have laughed at the speed with which both Ryan and Brendon got to the bed, but he didn’t. He waited till they were settled before moving Spencer a little. “There, pet. So they can see better.”
Spencer’s neck and cheeks were flushed redpink with heat and he looked up at Ryan and Brendon, smiling nervously.
“Answer honestly, pet. I want them to hear the answers.” Jon wet his fingers with lube and pushed his finger in slowly. Spencer’s chin dropped to his chest and he moaned. “Tell them what you want.”
Spencer whimpered biting his lip and pushing back. “I want you to fuck me.” Jon stilled his hand. “All of it, pet.” Spencer’s body twisted back trying to get Jon’s finger deeper. “Please,” he begged.
Ryan reached for Brendon’s hand and pressed back against his chest. Brendon pressed his hand down against Ryan’s zipper, squeezing lightly.
“I-I want you to fuck me with your fingers, stretch me for your cock,” Spencer stammered between moans. “But not too much, I like it when it hurts a little. L-love feeling you push inside me rough and hard, then go slow.” The words streamed past Spencer’s lips as Jon prepped him slowly. “So slow like I don’t know if you’re going to let me come. Keep me on the edge all night.”
Ryan whimpered and turned back to kiss Brendon. Brendon’s fingers worked the front of Ryan’s pants open, fingers wrapping around Ryan’s cock with the ease of many similar nights.
Jon leaned down to kiss the back of Spencer’s shoulders. “More, pet. What do you want right now?”
Spencer bit his lip and he looked up at Brendon and Ryan. “I want,” he whimpered when Jon’s fingers left him, empty now. He shivered softly watching Brendon kiss Ryan’s neck, still watching Spencer as he stroked Ryan. “I want to suck Ryan while Brendon fucks him.”
Both Ryan and Brendon froze looking from Spencer and then to Jon.
Jon broke the silence with a little laugh. “Well, that does depend on what Ryan and Brendon have to say, pet. Boys?”
Ryan nodded eagerly. Brendon grinned. “Is this the part where I say shit about ruining the group dynamic?”
“Not unless you think it’ll happen.” Jon said stripping quickly.
“Do I look stupid?” Brendon asked, looking over at Ryan kissing Spencer softly, as first kisses should be. Spencer whispered something into Ryan’s ear and they both laughed.
Jon shook his head and he started to press into Spencer, not waiting for him to steady himself. Spencer gasped against Ryan’s mouth and moaned. “Thank you, sir.” He whispered and gripped the sheets tight. He went down to his forearms, letting Jon’s thrusts push him forward. A handful of minutes passed with Spencer only centering on the feel of Jon inside him.
Jon ran a gentle hand down Spencer’s thigh. “So good, pet.”
Spencer shifted back, the pleasure from the words almost as good as the sensation of Jon fucking him. The bed shifted and when Spencer lifted his head again Ryan was back, guiding his mouth to his cock.
Brendon knelt behind Ryan, supporting him against his chest. Both Brendon and Ryan flushed from their own exertions. It was an awkward dance at first with Ryan pushing up into Spencer’s mouth and then sinking back down onto Brendon, but they soon found a rhythm.
Ryan was the first to come. He clutched at Spencer’s shoulder with one hand, the other in his hair tugging sharply. “Fuck, Spence.”
Brendon followed right after, unable to stay through the tightening of Ryan around him. He groaned pressing his face against Ryan’s still shaking shoulder. “God,” he muffled against Ryan’s skin.
Spencer pushed back against Jon, pleading softly, “Please,” he jerked up sharply when Jon’s hand closed slick and warm around Spencer’s cock. Spencer pressed back against Jon’s chest, arching up body curving to meet the press of Jon’s hand.
“Come, pet. Let them see,” Jon ordered.
Spencer cried out and came, striping Jon’s hand and his own belly and chest.
Jon lifted up into Spencer twice more before following him down. Spencer let out a softer pleased sound feeling Jon shuddering behind him. He nuzzled Jon’s neck gently. “Thank you, sir.”
Jon kissed Spencer’s cheek and he looked over at Ryan and Brendon, both still panting softly on the bed. He watched proudly as Spencer crawled over to Ryan and laid down next to him, their heads on the same pillow. “I really am sorry, Ry. I don’t mean to be such a dick. I just get so-” Spencer said softly.
Ryan kissed him and hugged him. “I know. I get it.”
Jon just sat back and watched, smiling at Spencer with pride.
++++
It’s nowhere near perfect still.
But it’s better.
Jon sat on the bus and watched the prairie land stream by in gold and yellow smears next to blue gray skies. Brendon and Ryan were at the fridge arguing over cereal or pop tarts or anything else that pissy singers and pissy songwriters argued over.
Spencer looked up from his book and smiled. “What are you looking at?”
Jon rubbed the back of his knuckles against Spencer’s cheek. “Something.”
Spencer’s mouth curved into that half smile that Jon knew only came out rarely.
He’d keep watching to see it again and again.
He had no doubt in that.
fin.