(no subject)
Oneshots for anon_lovefest always have a ridiculous amount of worldbuilding when I write them. I highly suspect this one of wanting a sequel. The cafeteria scene alluded to is gnawing at the edges of my brain already >.<
Title: Between Twelve and Twenty a Minute
Pairing: pre Brendon/Spencer
Rating: pg
Wordcount: 1507
Summary: The day Brendon nearly dies is the day he realises he might need a dom.
Prompt used: Brendon/Spencer high school AU in which dom/sub is the normal relationship for anon_lovefest, and asphyxiation for angst bingo.
Warnings: auto-erotic asphyxiation with negative consequences.
disclaimer: This is a non-profit, non-commercial work of fiction using the names and likenesses of real individuals. This fictional story is not intended to imply that the events herein actually occurred or that the attitudes or behaviors described are engaged in or condoned by the real persons whose names are used without permission.
The idea of his lungs slowly emptying has always been appealing to Brendon. He was young the first time he can remember it becoming an issue; playing cops and robbers at church. Derrick and Aaron caught him, putting their knees on his chest to pin him so they could arrest him. Brendon didn’t try to get away, just stayed flat and wheezed with a smile on his face. The adult minding them told the proper authority, and he was spoken to. It was only the first of many talks, though he never got in as much trouble as Amber did. It was always easier for him to pretend to like roughing around than it was for her to stop roughing around.
He does pause and think about whether he should go through with it. He’s alone in his room, shirt off, jeans hanging low on his hips with his belt in his hand. He should have time enough to do it, it’s just a matter of if he should. What he’s about to do is double a sin. All Mormons must be submissive to God, controlling their urges in the name of Him until they find their husband or wife. Brendon has no such person and so striving for release is breaking an order. It’s also clearly written in every pamphlet, spoken in every speech, that men must not take the role of women, women must not take the role of men. Yet all he’s ever thought about is a woman or man taking charge of him.
Brendon’s considered asking Amber. He’s not sure what her particular slant is, but there’s a good chance she would be willing to indulge his need, and he surely would follow her order. But the bottom line is there’s too much risk. They’re of the age that they can group date, but their parents, his brothers and sisters, her sisters, essentially every person in their lives would be suspicious if they tried to be alone together. The risk of them getting caught is too high. It’s safer to do it this way, slip his own belt around his throat instead of waiting for a dom’s hands.
Except it isn’t. He wakes up in the hospital, blanket heavy on his bare legs. He doesn’t remember coming or passing out. Nor does he get much of a chance to think about it. Soon after he wakes, Mason and Kara come into his room, both with a cookie and a cup of juice suggesting they’d expected to wait a while.
“Tell me you were testing out a method for your secret sub. Tell me that and we don’t have to tell Mom and Dad.” Kara sounds almost pleading, while Mason just stares at him.
Brendon says it. Lying is just another sin to add to the list of things he’s doing wrong, but it buys him time. He needs that. He’s sure he can’t change, he just needs to pretend for as long as possible.
Going back to school the next day isn’t as bad as he would have thought. Hoodie zipped to the top, all he has to do is not raise his hand for answering questions, and nobody notices. Everything is fine until gym class. It’s often the bane of a sub’s existence, doing sit-ups on a freshly hit ass can either hurt like hell or turn someone on, depending on subslant. Brendon has a different difficulty though; gym class has a dress code of shorts or sweatpants and a t-shirt. His normally comfortable ringer tee shows off his bruises almost like he’s displaying them on purpose.
The first ten minutes of gym are what they always are; a warm-up and sprints. What’s different is how everyone is staring at him. Brendon would have expected one or two, a handful at most. Not twenty seven.
Mr Norton calls them into the middle of the room, then starts throwing pinnies at random for teams. Nate bursts into a torrent of swears as his pinny gets snagged on one of the one and a half inch spikes protruding from his collar. With Gabe and Victoria both not in this class one of the subs helps him untangle himself, careful to not touch Gabe and Victoria’s property. Witnessing Nate’s problem, Brendon can’t help but hope in the case that a dom has a slant in which it matters to them and cares enough to collar him, they’ll pick one a little more practical. Adam Siska’s is almost as bad, a eight in one chain weave doesn’t really work with shoulder length curly hair.
The taped lines on the floor show three mini courts, Brendon’s team blue is on the left side of the gymnasium. Jon Walker is on his team today, and falls in step with him. Brendon hasn’t really talked to him much, only knows about his slant because it’s an unusual one. He’s not entirely non-active, but everyone knows he’s more into watching than being on either side of a paddle. Most people are pretty used to him commenting on their relationships, and he's almost always invited to public scenes.
“Found a dom Brendon? Good for you.”
Brendon answers verbally, though his voice is strained. “No, no dom. Did it myself.”
Jon doesn’t seem to think he’s an idiot. On the contrary, he smiles. “Even better. I have a friend who’s been watching you, but he thought you might be non-active.”
“What?” Brendon can’t imagine being non-active. Not only would it horrify his parents, possibly worse than the submissive admission eventually will, it seems like a very awkward way to live life.
“I know. You’re not, you just overcompensate because you think you’re supposed to be dominant, and you fail hard enough that you confuse pretty much everyone. If Pete goes off on one more detailed story about how just the right sub could make you reach your potential, Mikey’s going to punch him. Which, believe it or not, is still better than another speech from Gerard about how you don’t need to find a potential, how it’s okay to be non-active. At least Pete is creative, Gee’s just ranty.”
All of this is completely new to Brendon, and he has no idea what to say, even if every word didn’t hurt. There are a few teens from church at the school, he hopes they don’t see him the way Jon and his friends apparently do.
When it becomes obvious Brendon isn’t going to reply, Jon goes on. “You should talk to my friend though. It looks like you’re into edgeplay and he’s really good at boundaries. And he’s discreet, which I’m guessing by the overcompensating is something you’re looking for.”
“Yeah. Who?” Brendon doesn’t want to get his hopes up, but if he could be a sub at school and nothing at home his life would be perfect. He could try breathplay again, and with someone watching him he could avoid the same trouble.
“Spencer.”
“Spencer Smith,” he repeats, just to check. When Jon doesn’t correct the last name, Brendon goes on. “Are you serious? He’s with Ryan.” Of course it's possible for a dominant to have more than one submissive, and in rarer cases a submissive might be shared among more than one dom, but he never would have pegged Spencer and Ryan for that sort of relationship.
“No, he’s not. Everyone seems to think that, but he’s not. I mean, maybe when they were testing, but Ryan’s been Keltie’s bitch for a year now. Oh don’t look at me like that, he likes name calling. Humiliation is his slant, can’t come unless he’s blushing.”
“You shouldn’t-”
“What, be telling you this? I bet you ten bucks he gets hard when I tell him a stranger knows what a little whore he is.” Brendon winces. Humiliation is definitely not his slant. Every sub to their own, but it’ll never be his.
“So do you want me to introduce you to Spence? He’s not a dick, he won’t make you drop to your knees or kiss his hand or anything. My friends aren’t real huge into the formal scene.” Brendon doesn’t doubt that. The sort that are into that, like Leto, probably couldn’t handle a nearly non-active voyeur, or a proclaimer of non-active rights.
“Yeah?” The worst that could happen is Spencer's and his slants don’t match as well as Jon thinks they will. Well, no. The worst that can happen is Michael or Austin sees him cozying up to Spencer, and they inform his parents or siblings. But Brendon’s getting pretty sick of living in fear, and letting that fear hold him back from finding his dom in glinting chains.
“Walker! Urie! This is baseketball, not gossiping time. Get a move on!”
Brendon bursts into a run immediately, authoritative tone striking him at his core. Jon seems less affected, jogging to catch up with Brendon, not to appease Mr Norton. “Cool. Find me at lunch and you can meet him.”
Brendon nods his agreement, then runs towards the ball currently at the other end of the gym. For now this is what he’s supposed to be doing, and he doesn’t have to think about anything else.
Title: Between Twelve and Twenty a Minute
Pairing: pre Brendon/Spencer
Rating: pg
Wordcount: 1507
Summary: The day Brendon nearly dies is the day he realises he might need a dom.
Prompt used: Brendon/Spencer high school AU in which dom/sub is the normal relationship for anon_lovefest, and asphyxiation for angst bingo.
Warnings: auto-erotic asphyxiation with negative consequences.
disclaimer: This is a non-profit, non-commercial work of fiction using the names and likenesses of real individuals. This fictional story is not intended to imply that the events herein actually occurred or that the attitudes or behaviors described are engaged in or condoned by the real persons whose names are used without permission.
The idea of his lungs slowly emptying has always been appealing to Brendon. He was young the first time he can remember it becoming an issue; playing cops and robbers at church. Derrick and Aaron caught him, putting their knees on his chest to pin him so they could arrest him. Brendon didn’t try to get away, just stayed flat and wheezed with a smile on his face. The adult minding them told the proper authority, and he was spoken to. It was only the first of many talks, though he never got in as much trouble as Amber did. It was always easier for him to pretend to like roughing around than it was for her to stop roughing around.
He does pause and think about whether he should go through with it. He’s alone in his room, shirt off, jeans hanging low on his hips with his belt in his hand. He should have time enough to do it, it’s just a matter of if he should. What he’s about to do is double a sin. All Mormons must be submissive to God, controlling their urges in the name of Him until they find their husband or wife. Brendon has no such person and so striving for release is breaking an order. It’s also clearly written in every pamphlet, spoken in every speech, that men must not take the role of women, women must not take the role of men. Yet all he’s ever thought about is a woman or man taking charge of him.
Brendon’s considered asking Amber. He’s not sure what her particular slant is, but there’s a good chance she would be willing to indulge his need, and he surely would follow her order. But the bottom line is there’s too much risk. They’re of the age that they can group date, but their parents, his brothers and sisters, her sisters, essentially every person in their lives would be suspicious if they tried to be alone together. The risk of them getting caught is too high. It’s safer to do it this way, slip his own belt around his throat instead of waiting for a dom’s hands.
Except it isn’t. He wakes up in the hospital, blanket heavy on his bare legs. He doesn’t remember coming or passing out. Nor does he get much of a chance to think about it. Soon after he wakes, Mason and Kara come into his room, both with a cookie and a cup of juice suggesting they’d expected to wait a while.
“Tell me you were testing out a method for your secret sub. Tell me that and we don’t have to tell Mom and Dad.” Kara sounds almost pleading, while Mason just stares at him.
Brendon says it. Lying is just another sin to add to the list of things he’s doing wrong, but it buys him time. He needs that. He’s sure he can’t change, he just needs to pretend for as long as possible.
Going back to school the next day isn’t as bad as he would have thought. Hoodie zipped to the top, all he has to do is not raise his hand for answering questions, and nobody notices. Everything is fine until gym class. It’s often the bane of a sub’s existence, doing sit-ups on a freshly hit ass can either hurt like hell or turn someone on, depending on subslant. Brendon has a different difficulty though; gym class has a dress code of shorts or sweatpants and a t-shirt. His normally comfortable ringer tee shows off his bruises almost like he’s displaying them on purpose.
The first ten minutes of gym are what they always are; a warm-up and sprints. What’s different is how everyone is staring at him. Brendon would have expected one or two, a handful at most. Not twenty seven.
Mr Norton calls them into the middle of the room, then starts throwing pinnies at random for teams. Nate bursts into a torrent of swears as his pinny gets snagged on one of the one and a half inch spikes protruding from his collar. With Gabe and Victoria both not in this class one of the subs helps him untangle himself, careful to not touch Gabe and Victoria’s property. Witnessing Nate’s problem, Brendon can’t help but hope in the case that a dom has a slant in which it matters to them and cares enough to collar him, they’ll pick one a little more practical. Adam Siska’s is almost as bad, a eight in one chain weave doesn’t really work with shoulder length curly hair.
The taped lines on the floor show three mini courts, Brendon’s team blue is on the left side of the gymnasium. Jon Walker is on his team today, and falls in step with him. Brendon hasn’t really talked to him much, only knows about his slant because it’s an unusual one. He’s not entirely non-active, but everyone knows he’s more into watching than being on either side of a paddle. Most people are pretty used to him commenting on their relationships, and he's almost always invited to public scenes.
“Found a dom Brendon? Good for you.”
Brendon answers verbally, though his voice is strained. “No, no dom. Did it myself.”
Jon doesn’t seem to think he’s an idiot. On the contrary, he smiles. “Even better. I have a friend who’s been watching you, but he thought you might be non-active.”
“What?” Brendon can’t imagine being non-active. Not only would it horrify his parents, possibly worse than the submissive admission eventually will, it seems like a very awkward way to live life.
“I know. You’re not, you just overcompensate because you think you’re supposed to be dominant, and you fail hard enough that you confuse pretty much everyone. If Pete goes off on one more detailed story about how just the right sub could make you reach your potential, Mikey’s going to punch him. Which, believe it or not, is still better than another speech from Gerard about how you don’t need to find a potential, how it’s okay to be non-active. At least Pete is creative, Gee’s just ranty.”
All of this is completely new to Brendon, and he has no idea what to say, even if every word didn’t hurt. There are a few teens from church at the school, he hopes they don’t see him the way Jon and his friends apparently do.
When it becomes obvious Brendon isn’t going to reply, Jon goes on. “You should talk to my friend though. It looks like you’re into edgeplay and he’s really good at boundaries. And he’s discreet, which I’m guessing by the overcompensating is something you’re looking for.”
“Yeah. Who?” Brendon doesn’t want to get his hopes up, but if he could be a sub at school and nothing at home his life would be perfect. He could try breathplay again, and with someone watching him he could avoid the same trouble.
“Spencer.”
“Spencer Smith,” he repeats, just to check. When Jon doesn’t correct the last name, Brendon goes on. “Are you serious? He’s with Ryan.” Of course it's possible for a dominant to have more than one submissive, and in rarer cases a submissive might be shared among more than one dom, but he never would have pegged Spencer and Ryan for that sort of relationship.
“No, he’s not. Everyone seems to think that, but he’s not. I mean, maybe when they were testing, but Ryan’s been Keltie’s bitch for a year now. Oh don’t look at me like that, he likes name calling. Humiliation is his slant, can’t come unless he’s blushing.”
“You shouldn’t-”
“What, be telling you this? I bet you ten bucks he gets hard when I tell him a stranger knows what a little whore he is.” Brendon winces. Humiliation is definitely not his slant. Every sub to their own, but it’ll never be his.
“So do you want me to introduce you to Spence? He’s not a dick, he won’t make you drop to your knees or kiss his hand or anything. My friends aren’t real huge into the formal scene.” Brendon doesn’t doubt that. The sort that are into that, like Leto, probably couldn’t handle a nearly non-active voyeur, or a proclaimer of non-active rights.
“Yeah?” The worst that could happen is Spencer's and his slants don’t match as well as Jon thinks they will. Well, no. The worst that can happen is Michael or Austin sees him cozying up to Spencer, and they inform his parents or siblings. But Brendon’s getting pretty sick of living in fear, and letting that fear hold him back from finding his dom in glinting chains.
“Walker! Urie! This is baseketball, not gossiping time. Get a move on!”
Brendon bursts into a run immediately, authoritative tone striking him at his core. Jon seems less affected, jogging to catch up with Brendon, not to appease Mr Norton. “Cool. Find me at lunch and you can meet him.”
Brendon nods his agreement, then runs towards the ball currently at the other end of the gym. For now this is what he’s supposed to be doing, and he doesn’t have to think about anything else.