Fic: Superstars Sucked Into the Supermassive
Superstars Sucked Into the Supermassive
[Panic!, Jon/Spencer, 1,961 words, NC-17]
"Muse, dude. They blow your fucking face off."
Some of you have heard me refer to what I call my Muse!fic. This is it. At one point during Panic's Rage! hosting, Jon made the above statement. And then I discovered the song Super Massive Blackhole. (I recommend everyone listen to it while reading this!) Takes place during Decaydance '07, and written for blows_to_come.
Many thanks to imogenedisease and madsciencechick for the beta work and guidance!
Spencer thinks he's allowed some indiscretions. What those should be, exactly, he doesn't really know, but it's important that he have them. He'd said as much right after his second drag off Joe's joint back in Joe and Patrick's room (and Patrick had said, "This isn't an indiscretion, Spencer, it's Joe corrupting young minds," right before he'd sprayed the room down with Febreze and glared while Joe laughed his ass off).
He sprawls across the couch in their hotel suite and idly plays with the stereo remote. Two hits, that's all, he isn't about to get stoned in London. That's...very rockstarish, and Spencer isn't about being rockstarish, thank you. And he's completely not stoned at all, it's just that the buttons on this remote are really small and weird-looking.
Spencer hits play and Muse floods through the speakers. It's their latest album, the one with the song about Battlestar Galactica on it, and Spencer smiles. Jon's obsessed with this CD.
He turns up the music and sinks back against the couch, which is leather and makes small squeaking noises whenever he moves. There's a strong hint of pot still clinging to his clothes, but he doesn't care, he'll deal with that later; he stretches his arms over his head and concentrates on the feel of the leather against his skin as Matt Bellamy sings about starlight.
"Oh man, yes." The sound of Jon's voice suddenly cutting through the music startles Spencer a little, because he seriously was just wishing Jon was here and not off drinking himself into a coma with Brendon and the Academy guys. The door slams shut and Jon's already halfway across the room, grinning ridiculously at the stereo like it's some hot model making eyes at him.
"Muse, dude. They blow your fucking face off." He bites his lip and fumbles a bit with the stereo buttons.
Spencer laughs, slow and deep. It's not really his real laugh, but he likes the sound anyway. "So you've said. Several times." He watches Jon mess with the stereo, accidentally ejecting the CD twice before he finally figures out how to change songs. He gives Spencer a triumphant smile that's all teeth and shiny lips, his cheeks flushed from alcohol.
Spencer swallows and chews the tip of his thumb. "D'you have fun?"
"Yep. You missed the class photo, by the way. Pete says you're a snob."
Patrick and Joe had already mentioned the photo, and Spencer had felt a little bad about it, but right now, he really just wants to sit and stare at Jon's mouth. He shrugs, rolls his head along the armrest of the couch. "Maybe I just wanna be mysterious."
Jon snorts. "You're just a snob." He wrinkles his nose at Spencer just as a new song--"Super Massive Blackhole"--begins. Jon's eyes flare and he groans a little like he's just gotten amazing head.
"This song is just. Holy shit. Sex, Spencer, this song is sex." He turns it up loud, his head swaying a little from side to side with the bass line, eyes closed. Spencer's always liked this song--the drums are amazing--but this is. This is more. He shifts against the couch, the leather suddenly cold against his skin where his shirt rides up in back.
"I mean, seriously. How can you not want to fuck something to this?" Jon says fuck like it has more than one syllable, drawing out the vowels, and Spencer bites his lip. Hard. He suddenly really, really wishes he didn't have the pot drifting happily through his bloodstream, because it makes him forget how this itch, this want, is something he really shouldn't be thinking about seriously. Especially when it revolves completely around Jon and the way he looks at Spencer sometimes, eyes a little too dark and unfocused.
"Um. Yeah." He wants to say more, but now Jon's leaning over him.
"You set my soul alight, Spencer Smith," he says, and Spencer laughs, because shit, what else can he do? He tries to concentrate on the act of laughing, the pull of his mouth, the air in his lungs, anything that takes his mind off the way Jon smells of sweat and beer as he leans closer still, until his cheek--hot, damp skin--is pressed against Spencer's, lips brushing over his ear.
"Can I tell you a secret?"
Spencer sucks in a breath that's too shaky for his liking. "Sure." His hands flex against his thighs, his nails digging into his jeans. The bass line is practically vibrating his skin.
"This song always makes me think of you. Like, every time. I just." The words are so soft, barely heard over the pulse of the music, but Spencer hears them. Every one. Jon turns his head, nuzzles his nose along Spencer's jaw, and Spencer cannot believe how much that simple move makes him want to moan. It's not real, none of this is, it can't be, Jon's always saying and doing things when he's drunk that he doesn't mean...sometimes...well, not always.
He kind of hates Joe and his stupid joint at the moment.
His heart is pounding, pounding in time with the music and oh god, Jon's going to his knees, sliding down Spencer's body, grabbing Spencer's legs and shifting him around into a sitting position, feet flat on the floor, oh god oh god, he can't even think right now, he can only lick his lips frantically and say, "I don't think--you can't actually--"
"Can I?" Jon says, like Spencer's not freaking the fuck out above him. He splays his hands over Spencer's hips, fingertips smooth and cool as they push under the hem of his shirt. He spreads Spencer's legs slightly, just enough to make room for him, and then he's mouthing gently over Spencer's fly. Spencer can feel the wet heat clear down to his bones. "Please?"
It's such a bad idea, a monumental, horrible, badbadbad idea, but Jon's hands are on him and his mouth looks so damn shiny and he's asking. Jon's polite to a fault almost, and Spencer has never been able to deny him much of anything when he says please.
He opens his mouth to say yes, but he can't really breathe; the music is flooding his brain, along with Jon's voice saying fuck over and over, along with the feel and mental image of--of--
Spencer jerks suddenly when Jon presses his nose against the ridge of his erection trapped in his jeans, his hands shoving Spencer's shirt higher up his stomach as his thumbs trace the underlying curve of his ribcage.
"Oh. Okay. Okay." Spencer figures words are overrated at this point.
His hands fumble with his belt and zipper, making Jon laugh--a low growl in his throat--and push his hands away. He gets Spencer's fly open in one fluid movement, and only parts his jeans enough to work his hand into the slit of Spencer's boxers. Jon wraps his fingers around him, tugs Spencer free, and for a moment he simply rubs his mouth softly over the head.
"What do you like?" he breathes, eyes closed, and Spencer's pretty sure his heart stops all together.
"I. I just--" There's so much heat and his lips are right fucking there, and all Spencer wants in the world, right now, is to fuck Jon's mouth. He feels the vibration of Jon's chuckle against his skin, and it takes Spencer a full five seconds to realize he's said everything single one of his thoughts out loud.
"You can, I'll let you, I promise." And then, then, Jon finally sucks him deep into the hot, wet bliss of his mouth. Spencer groans like he's dying and melts against the couch, one hand blindly pawing its way through Jon's hair as the other grips the leather, holding on. He wants to close his eyes, but he can't not watch Jon, his cheeks hollowing out with each upward pull, jaw slack, his gorgeous fucking hands spread wide over Spencer's thighs. Spencer reaches down and presses his thumb to the corner of Jon's mouth, feels the way it curves around his cock, and the next time Spencer groans it's more of a breathless sob.
He tries to hold back, tries to keep his hips stationary and not give in to the overwhelming urge to come, but Jon soon pulls off, just barely, and in time with the song mouths, "You set my soul alight," against the slick head of Spencer's cock.
He shudders and tightens his hand in Jon's hair. "I can't--I have to--"
Jon licks him, slowly, with the flat of his tongue. "Go ahead," he says, and the second his mouth slides back down, Spencer groans and thrusts his hips up. It's rough and probably too fast, but he just can't. He has to. He feels Jon relaxing his throat, like an invitation, and Spencer finally drops his head back against the couch and lets go. Jon's hands eventually slide down and around the backs of Spencer's thighs, holding him up, closer.
"Yes--god, I--Jon--"
It's the answering rumble, felt through every inch of Spencer's lower body, that has Spencer gasping and coming so hard his stomach nearly cramps. Jon swallows, but when he pulls off his mouth is still shiny. He wipes the back of his hand across his lips, grinning up at Spencer, and Spencer huffs out a whimper. He can read the look in Jon's eyes--you taste so fucking good. Spencer bites his lip and groans again.
"I'm gonna kiss you now, okay?" Jon's whispering, and it suddenly dawns on Spencer that the CD has ended. The silence is almost stark, nothing but Spencer's shallow breaths and Jon's words.
Spencer nods sleepily, because it's the next logical step; besides, he's wanted Jon to kiss him for longer than he can remember. It's not even possible for him to say no.
There's a split second panic when he considers just where Jon's mouth has been, what he'll taste like, but it's gone an instant later, replaced with the warm and careful slide of lips and tongues. He probably shouldn't have opened his mouth so easily to Jon, but at this point, Spencer's fairly certain he's completely transparent. There's no playing hard to get now.
Jon tucks Spencer back into his jeans, kissing his way up Spencer's bare stomach--"You'll give me beard burn," Spencer mumbles, and Jon replies, "Kinda the whole point"--until he's eye to eye with Spencer again. He nudges him back down onto the couch into his original position, head resting against the arm, and then Jon's curling into Spencer, nose tucked into the hollow of Spencer's throat. It still strikes him as a little bizarre, the fact that Jon feels so much smaller than him these days, that he can so easily fit himself against Spencer and still have room to spare.
He can feel Jon's erection pressing into his leg. "Do, um. Do you want me to--?"
"'m fine, just wanna sleep." He yawns into Spencer's skin. "But I'll take a raincheck."
Spencer's heart sort of stutters and flips in his chest. "Okay," he says, because he can't really do anything else but smile into the top of Jon's hair.
"Muse," Jon mutters right before he passes out, hand clenched lightly in Spencer's shirt, "will always, always blow your face off."
Spencer laughs softly and shuts his eyes. "Always."
[Panic!, Jon/Spencer, 1,961 words, NC-17]
"Muse, dude. They blow your fucking face off."
Some of you have heard me refer to what I call my Muse!fic. This is it. At one point during Panic's Rage! hosting, Jon made the above statement. And then I discovered the song Super Massive Blackhole. (I recommend everyone listen to it while reading this!) Takes place during Decaydance '07, and written for blows_to_come.
Many thanks to imogenedisease and madsciencechick for the beta work and guidance!
Spencer thinks he's allowed some indiscretions. What those should be, exactly, he doesn't really know, but it's important that he have them. He'd said as much right after his second drag off Joe's joint back in Joe and Patrick's room (and Patrick had said, "This isn't an indiscretion, Spencer, it's Joe corrupting young minds," right before he'd sprayed the room down with Febreze and glared while Joe laughed his ass off).
He sprawls across the couch in their hotel suite and idly plays with the stereo remote. Two hits, that's all, he isn't about to get stoned in London. That's...very rockstarish, and Spencer isn't about being rockstarish, thank you. And he's completely not stoned at all, it's just that the buttons on this remote are really small and weird-looking.
Spencer hits play and Muse floods through the speakers. It's their latest album, the one with the song about Battlestar Galactica on it, and Spencer smiles. Jon's obsessed with this CD.
He turns up the music and sinks back against the couch, which is leather and makes small squeaking noises whenever he moves. There's a strong hint of pot still clinging to his clothes, but he doesn't care, he'll deal with that later; he stretches his arms over his head and concentrates on the feel of the leather against his skin as Matt Bellamy sings about starlight.
"Oh man, yes." The sound of Jon's voice suddenly cutting through the music startles Spencer a little, because he seriously was just wishing Jon was here and not off drinking himself into a coma with Brendon and the Academy guys. The door slams shut and Jon's already halfway across the room, grinning ridiculously at the stereo like it's some hot model making eyes at him.
"Muse, dude. They blow your fucking face off." He bites his lip and fumbles a bit with the stereo buttons.
Spencer laughs, slow and deep. It's not really his real laugh, but he likes the sound anyway. "So you've said. Several times." He watches Jon mess with the stereo, accidentally ejecting the CD twice before he finally figures out how to change songs. He gives Spencer a triumphant smile that's all teeth and shiny lips, his cheeks flushed from alcohol.
Spencer swallows and chews the tip of his thumb. "D'you have fun?"
"Yep. You missed the class photo, by the way. Pete says you're a snob."
Patrick and Joe had already mentioned the photo, and Spencer had felt a little bad about it, but right now, he really just wants to sit and stare at Jon's mouth. He shrugs, rolls his head along the armrest of the couch. "Maybe I just wanna be mysterious."
Jon snorts. "You're just a snob." He wrinkles his nose at Spencer just as a new song--"Super Massive Blackhole"--begins. Jon's eyes flare and he groans a little like he's just gotten amazing head.
"This song is just. Holy shit. Sex, Spencer, this song is sex." He turns it up loud, his head swaying a little from side to side with the bass line, eyes closed. Spencer's always liked this song--the drums are amazing--but this is. This is more. He shifts against the couch, the leather suddenly cold against his skin where his shirt rides up in back.
"I mean, seriously. How can you not want to fuck something to this?" Jon says fuck like it has more than one syllable, drawing out the vowels, and Spencer bites his lip. Hard. He suddenly really, really wishes he didn't have the pot drifting happily through his bloodstream, because it makes him forget how this itch, this want, is something he really shouldn't be thinking about seriously. Especially when it revolves completely around Jon and the way he looks at Spencer sometimes, eyes a little too dark and unfocused.
"Um. Yeah." He wants to say more, but now Jon's leaning over him.
"You set my soul alight, Spencer Smith," he says, and Spencer laughs, because shit, what else can he do? He tries to concentrate on the act of laughing, the pull of his mouth, the air in his lungs, anything that takes his mind off the way Jon smells of sweat and beer as he leans closer still, until his cheek--hot, damp skin--is pressed against Spencer's, lips brushing over his ear.
"Can I tell you a secret?"
Spencer sucks in a breath that's too shaky for his liking. "Sure." His hands flex against his thighs, his nails digging into his jeans. The bass line is practically vibrating his skin.
"This song always makes me think of you. Like, every time. I just." The words are so soft, barely heard over the pulse of the music, but Spencer hears them. Every one. Jon turns his head, nuzzles his nose along Spencer's jaw, and Spencer cannot believe how much that simple move makes him want to moan. It's not real, none of this is, it can't be, Jon's always saying and doing things when he's drunk that he doesn't mean...sometimes...well, not always.
He kind of hates Joe and his stupid joint at the moment.
His heart is pounding, pounding in time with the music and oh god, Jon's going to his knees, sliding down Spencer's body, grabbing Spencer's legs and shifting him around into a sitting position, feet flat on the floor, oh god oh god, he can't even think right now, he can only lick his lips frantically and say, "I don't think--you can't actually--"
"Can I?" Jon says, like Spencer's not freaking the fuck out above him. He splays his hands over Spencer's hips, fingertips smooth and cool as they push under the hem of his shirt. He spreads Spencer's legs slightly, just enough to make room for him, and then he's mouthing gently over Spencer's fly. Spencer can feel the wet heat clear down to his bones. "Please?"
It's such a bad idea, a monumental, horrible, badbadbad idea, but Jon's hands are on him and his mouth looks so damn shiny and he's asking. Jon's polite to a fault almost, and Spencer has never been able to deny him much of anything when he says please.
He opens his mouth to say yes, but he can't really breathe; the music is flooding his brain, along with Jon's voice saying fuck over and over, along with the feel and mental image of--of--
Spencer jerks suddenly when Jon presses his nose against the ridge of his erection trapped in his jeans, his hands shoving Spencer's shirt higher up his stomach as his thumbs trace the underlying curve of his ribcage.
"Oh. Okay. Okay." Spencer figures words are overrated at this point.
His hands fumble with his belt and zipper, making Jon laugh--a low growl in his throat--and push his hands away. He gets Spencer's fly open in one fluid movement, and only parts his jeans enough to work his hand into the slit of Spencer's boxers. Jon wraps his fingers around him, tugs Spencer free, and for a moment he simply rubs his mouth softly over the head.
"What do you like?" he breathes, eyes closed, and Spencer's pretty sure his heart stops all together.
"I. I just--" There's so much heat and his lips are right fucking there, and all Spencer wants in the world, right now, is to fuck Jon's mouth. He feels the vibration of Jon's chuckle against his skin, and it takes Spencer a full five seconds to realize he's said everything single one of his thoughts out loud.
"You can, I'll let you, I promise." And then, then, Jon finally sucks him deep into the hot, wet bliss of his mouth. Spencer groans like he's dying and melts against the couch, one hand blindly pawing its way through Jon's hair as the other grips the leather, holding on. He wants to close his eyes, but he can't not watch Jon, his cheeks hollowing out with each upward pull, jaw slack, his gorgeous fucking hands spread wide over Spencer's thighs. Spencer reaches down and presses his thumb to the corner of Jon's mouth, feels the way it curves around his cock, and the next time Spencer groans it's more of a breathless sob.
He tries to hold back, tries to keep his hips stationary and not give in to the overwhelming urge to come, but Jon soon pulls off, just barely, and in time with the song mouths, "You set my soul alight," against the slick head of Spencer's cock.
He shudders and tightens his hand in Jon's hair. "I can't--I have to--"
Jon licks him, slowly, with the flat of his tongue. "Go ahead," he says, and the second his mouth slides back down, Spencer groans and thrusts his hips up. It's rough and probably too fast, but he just can't. He has to. He feels Jon relaxing his throat, like an invitation, and Spencer finally drops his head back against the couch and lets go. Jon's hands eventually slide down and around the backs of Spencer's thighs, holding him up, closer.
"Yes--god, I--Jon--"
It's the answering rumble, felt through every inch of Spencer's lower body, that has Spencer gasping and coming so hard his stomach nearly cramps. Jon swallows, but when he pulls off his mouth is still shiny. He wipes the back of his hand across his lips, grinning up at Spencer, and Spencer huffs out a whimper. He can read the look in Jon's eyes--you taste so fucking good. Spencer bites his lip and groans again.
"I'm gonna kiss you now, okay?" Jon's whispering, and it suddenly dawns on Spencer that the CD has ended. The silence is almost stark, nothing but Spencer's shallow breaths and Jon's words.
Spencer nods sleepily, because it's the next logical step; besides, he's wanted Jon to kiss him for longer than he can remember. It's not even possible for him to say no.
There's a split second panic when he considers just where Jon's mouth has been, what he'll taste like, but it's gone an instant later, replaced with the warm and careful slide of lips and tongues. He probably shouldn't have opened his mouth so easily to Jon, but at this point, Spencer's fairly certain he's completely transparent. There's no playing hard to get now.
Jon tucks Spencer back into his jeans, kissing his way up Spencer's bare stomach--"You'll give me beard burn," Spencer mumbles, and Jon replies, "Kinda the whole point"--until he's eye to eye with Spencer again. He nudges him back down onto the couch into his original position, head resting against the arm, and then Jon's curling into Spencer, nose tucked into the hollow of Spencer's throat. It still strikes him as a little bizarre, the fact that Jon feels so much smaller than him these days, that he can so easily fit himself against Spencer and still have room to spare.
He can feel Jon's erection pressing into his leg. "Do, um. Do you want me to--?"
"'m fine, just wanna sleep." He yawns into Spencer's skin. "But I'll take a raincheck."
Spencer's heart sort of stutters and flips in his chest. "Okay," he says, because he can't really do anything else but smile into the top of Jon's hair.
"Muse," Jon mutters right before he passes out, hand clenched lightly in Spencer's shirt, "will always, always blow your face off."
Spencer laughs softly and shuts his eyes. "Always."