Retaliation (bandom, Brendon/Spencer, adult)
Retaliation
bandom || Brendon/Spencer (PATD) || adult || 1910 words
Not mine, no harm intended. This is fiction, and is not meant to imply anything about the people whose names are used.
Beta'd and encouraged shamelessly by why_me_why_not and shutyourface, but I fiddled with it, so any remaining mistakes are mine.
ETA: Now with bonus Spencer/black shirt picspam.
Spencer doesn't hate it as much as Jon does, but post-show fan interaction is not his favorite activity. Most nights, if anyone is willing to hang out near the bus or van and talk to the kids who waited, it's Brendon. Not tonight, though.
Somehow, Spencer's pretty sure that it's not an accident that somehow Brendon manages to avoid it, conning Zack into letting Dan take him to the hotel early. Jon skips out, too, because it's a hotel night and Cassie's with them for this trip, and, yeah. He'd vanished while the last chords of Shout were still reverberating through the arena.
Which leaves him and Ryan to face the horde. Spencer tries to be polite without being too encouraging. He knows and appreciates that these are the people who make their jobs, their lives possible. But he's got Brendon on his mind, and he really wants to be done with work right now, done with everything that is keeping him here when he could be with Brendon.
He's not jealous. He's not possessive, not really. It's not a big deal that Brendon was flirting on stage - that's just how he is, how he communicates: Brendon flirts with the audience, with Zack, with the girl who serves his coffee. But it is a big deal that he'd picked a shirt out of Spencer's closet (one he'd washed and shrunk) and those jeans, and spent ninety minutes shaking his ass right in front of Spencer, occasionally glancing back with a smirk or teasing grin, like he knew exactly what Spencer was seeing from his perch and exactly what it was doing to Spencer.
The more he thinks about it, the more impatient and brusque he grows, until finally Zack cuts off the line of kids and hustles Spencer and Ryan into the waiting van.
When they arrive, Zack hands them their keycards and shuffles them into the elevator, punching the button as he tells them, "I know you know the drill. Give me a call if you decide to leave the building. Check out is at noon."
Ryan nods absently. He's already got his phone in hand, ready to call Keltie as soon as they're out of the elevator.
"Got it. See you in the morning, Zack," Spencer tosses over his shoulder, moving as soon as the doors slide open.
The TV is on, muted, in his and Brendon's room, and he can hear the shower running. Brendon's voice soars over the patter of water, "All the single ladies, all the single ladies..."
Spencer grins, imagining Brendon in there, scrubbing and shaking his ass to Beyonce. And, yeah, okay, he's distracted by that mental image. Brendon, water-droplets, wide grin and rocking hips.
Then the water stops, and Spencer shakes himself out of his fantasy-induced stupor. He's about to have naked Brendon, and that requires all of his attention. He digs in his bag for lube and condoms, and tosses them on the nightstand just as the bathroom door opens and a cloud of vanilla-scented steam emerges. Fucker. He must have taken Spencer's toiletries.
Brendon prances out, the tune on his lips still, and the towel on his hips slips a little.
"Spence! What're we doing tonight? Going out?"
Spencer's plans for the evening include him, Brendon, and the span of the king-sized mattress on their hotel bed, and Spencer is pretty sure Brendon knows it. Spencer's also pretty sure Brendon's plans include those same items, since he'd whispered innuendos whenever he wandered back to Spencer's kit, so there's no reason for him to be playing dumb.
"I don't think we have to go far."
"Dunno. I have lots of energy to expend."
Spencer likes a challenge.
"I'll give you something to do."
He falls backwards onto the bed, tugging Brendon down with him. It's a bonus when the towel comes unknotted, so that Spencer has a naked Brendon sprawled on top of him. Brendon wriggles a little, and there's enough water still clinging to his skin that Spencer feels the damp seep into his jeans and through his shirt. He's distracted from it when Brendon's lips land on his, and. Yeah.
Eventually, using superhuman restraint, he manages to pull away from the slip-slide of Brendon's lips and tongue against his, just enough to point out, "You're getting my clothes wet."
"So take them off," Brendon mouths against Spencer's chin.
"You take them off." Spencer's busy, with his hands full of Brendon, and he's not letting go until he's had his fill.
Brendon struggles blindly with the buttons of Spencer's black shirt. He's still pressing light kisses to Spencer's cheek, rubbing his own against the bristle of softening beard. Spencer is amused at the faint sounds of discontent that end with Brendon tugging harder on the placket of the shirt, hard enough to send one button flying, and the others loose from their moorings.
"You need to wear easier access shirts."
"You liked it well enough to borrow one."
Brendon lifts his head, and flutters his eyelashes at Spencer.
"I wanted to know if it would add to my sex appeal. Fangirl consensus is that your black button-downs are A-plus in the hot department."
"You really need to delete that sockpuppet, okay? And your sex appeal doesn't need to be augmented. The switch from girl jeans is already enough to cause spontaneous combustion."
Brendon's grin cannot get any wider. "Speaking of jeans..."
His palms curve over the arch of Spencer's hips for a second, then he gets to work taking them off. Spencer huffs a laugh at Brendon's concentration - his eyes are narrow, his tongue poking between his lips - but he's getting what he wants, so he cooperates when Brendon prods him, arches his back so the jeans can be tugged down and tossed away. Then Spencer is submerged in a blur of skin and smell and sound. Sex with Brendon is different than anything Spencer's ever had with anyone else - a mix of laughter with lust - and tonight's no different. Brendon teases and taunts, alternating deep, slow kisses with soft butterfly ones and bold touches with falsely shy ones, until finally Spencer flips him over and pins him to mattress with his weight. He knows Brendon likes that, likes to feel the size difference between them, likes feeling surrounded.
He kneels, Brendon trapped between his knees, intending to grab the lube and condom, and admires the flex of muscle and sinew as Brendon stretches. Brendon glances over his shoulder and murmurs, "See anything you want?"
"As a matter of fact..."
Spencer slaps his hand to one cheek, sharply enough to leave a reddened handprint. Brendon rocks back into, then squirms against the bedcovers. Spencer does it again, and pauses to admire the view, the contrast of his handprint with the otherwise pale skin, the curve of Brendon's ass, round and pert, and - he will swear later that he didn't even know what he was doing until he actually did it - presses a light kiss right where the buttock meets thigh, and then turns his head and sinks his teeth in.
Spencer feels more than hears Brendon moan, and his hips jerk before he slumps bonelessly on the bed.
"Brendon, did you just...?"
"Mmph." Brendon drags his face out of the pillow and glances back at Spencer. "Don't judge me, okay?"
Jesus.
Spencer takes a deep breath, tries to quell the sizzle of heat in his gut. He brushes his fingers up Brendon's flank and palms his ass, covering spot he slapped just seconds before, before letting his thumb run along the crease. He hesitates before pressing one dry fingertip against Brendon's entrance.
"You should still fuck me." Brendon's voice is low, serious. They've had this conversation before, done this enough for Spencer to know that Brendon likes it like that, that he can get hard again if Spencer can hold out long enough.
He picks up the forgotten lube, squirts some onto his finger. When he nudges Brendon's leg, Brendon shifts, spreads obligingly; Spencer spreads lube around before pushing one finger in to the first knuckle. He's - it's not - apparently it's a night for doing things without thinking them through, because rimming is not really hot, in Spencer's mind, nothing he's ever wanted to do, and Brendon hasn't asked for it, but Brendon's lying there, lax and willing, and Spencer can see how he yields to his touch, see the fading mark his teeth left, and. He brushes his lips up Brendon's thigh to his ass, feels the soft skin and tiny hairs, and traces the seam that separates muscle from softer flesh. When Brendon sighs, he adds a second lubed finger, and when Brendon whines, he withdraws them, replacing them with lips and tongue before he can stop and think about it. He feels Brendon go completely still, tension replacing his previous languor.
Spencer lifts his head. "Brendon?"
"Jesus, don't stop!"
Spencer gets back to it, applying lips and tongue and fingers together, and Brendon goes from being rigid and tense against his hand to lax and pliant. He doesn't stop until he feels Brendon pushing back against him, telling him, "C'mon, come on!"
He grabs the condom, rolls it on, and he has every intention of fucking Brendon just as they are, so Brendon's stretched out beneath him, vulnerable, but at the last moment he changes his mind. Instead, he urges Brendon over, onto his back, and. God. Brendon's lips are swollen and red from being bitten, his eyes wide and dark, and his cock is flushed and hard, leaking against his belly. Spencer practically falls on him in his rush. Then Brendon's arms are around his shoulders and he lines up and sinks in, not stopping until his hips are pressed to the curve of Brendon's ass.
Brendon breathes out, a ragged not-quite-sigh.
"Hey."
Spencer rubs his nose against Brendon's, not sure if Brendon'll want to kiss him. But Brendon does, brushing their lips together as he pulls Spencer closer, presses his heel to Spencer's ass and tilts his hips up.
"God, just - move, please?"
And Brendon's already come, so he's got no right to sound as needy and pleading as he does, as needy as Spencer feels. It runs straight through Spencer, and he knows he's not going to last, but he tries, setting a steady pace of slow, sharp thrusts. Brendon's hold on Spencer loosens when he takes his cock in hand and matches Spencer's rhythm.
Spencer watches Brendon come this time, watches his eyes slam shut and his neck arch, sees the splatter of come on Brendon's hand and belly. He imagines his own come on Brendon's ass, covering the marks his teeth and hand left. Just like that, he's done, his hips jerking against Brendon's as he spills into the condom.
He thinks, Maybe next time.
He manages, after catching his breath, to roll away from Brendon and take care of the condom. Brendon staggers into the bathroom while Spencer's washing the lube and latex smell off his hands. He takes the washcloth Spencer hands him, watching Spencer in the mirror as he wipes himself off.
"You bit my ass."
Spencer will not blush. He refuses to. He's got nothing to be embarrassed about. Besides -
"You liked it."
"You bit my ass."
"You came!"
"Then you kissed it."
"Do you not want me to do that again?"
"...no. I mean, yes. Please."
bandom || Brendon/Spencer (PATD) || adult || 1910 words
Not mine, no harm intended. This is fiction, and is not meant to imply anything about the people whose names are used.
Beta'd and encouraged shamelessly by why_me_why_not and shutyourface, but I fiddled with it, so any remaining mistakes are mine.
ETA: Now with bonus Spencer/black shirt picspam.
Spencer doesn't hate it as much as Jon does, but post-show fan interaction is not his favorite activity. Most nights, if anyone is willing to hang out near the bus or van and talk to the kids who waited, it's Brendon. Not tonight, though.
Somehow, Spencer's pretty sure that it's not an accident that somehow Brendon manages to avoid it, conning Zack into letting Dan take him to the hotel early. Jon skips out, too, because it's a hotel night and Cassie's with them for this trip, and, yeah. He'd vanished while the last chords of Shout were still reverberating through the arena.
Which leaves him and Ryan to face the horde. Spencer tries to be polite without being too encouraging. He knows and appreciates that these are the people who make their jobs, their lives possible. But he's got Brendon on his mind, and he really wants to be done with work right now, done with everything that is keeping him here when he could be with Brendon.
He's not jealous. He's not possessive, not really. It's not a big deal that Brendon was flirting on stage - that's just how he is, how he communicates: Brendon flirts with the audience, with Zack, with the girl who serves his coffee. But it is a big deal that he'd picked a shirt out of Spencer's closet (one he'd washed and shrunk) and those jeans, and spent ninety minutes shaking his ass right in front of Spencer, occasionally glancing back with a smirk or teasing grin, like he knew exactly what Spencer was seeing from his perch and exactly what it was doing to Spencer.
The more he thinks about it, the more impatient and brusque he grows, until finally Zack cuts off the line of kids and hustles Spencer and Ryan into the waiting van.
When they arrive, Zack hands them their keycards and shuffles them into the elevator, punching the button as he tells them, "I know you know the drill. Give me a call if you decide to leave the building. Check out is at noon."
Ryan nods absently. He's already got his phone in hand, ready to call Keltie as soon as they're out of the elevator.
"Got it. See you in the morning, Zack," Spencer tosses over his shoulder, moving as soon as the doors slide open.
The TV is on, muted, in his and Brendon's room, and he can hear the shower running. Brendon's voice soars over the patter of water, "All the single ladies, all the single ladies..."
Spencer grins, imagining Brendon in there, scrubbing and shaking his ass to Beyonce. And, yeah, okay, he's distracted by that mental image. Brendon, water-droplets, wide grin and rocking hips.
Then the water stops, and Spencer shakes himself out of his fantasy-induced stupor. He's about to have naked Brendon, and that requires all of his attention. He digs in his bag for lube and condoms, and tosses them on the nightstand just as the bathroom door opens and a cloud of vanilla-scented steam emerges. Fucker. He must have taken Spencer's toiletries.
Brendon prances out, the tune on his lips still, and the towel on his hips slips a little.
"Spence! What're we doing tonight? Going out?"
Spencer's plans for the evening include him, Brendon, and the span of the king-sized mattress on their hotel bed, and Spencer is pretty sure Brendon knows it. Spencer's also pretty sure Brendon's plans include those same items, since he'd whispered innuendos whenever he wandered back to Spencer's kit, so there's no reason for him to be playing dumb.
"I don't think we have to go far."
"Dunno. I have lots of energy to expend."
Spencer likes a challenge.
"I'll give you something to do."
He falls backwards onto the bed, tugging Brendon down with him. It's a bonus when the towel comes unknotted, so that Spencer has a naked Brendon sprawled on top of him. Brendon wriggles a little, and there's enough water still clinging to his skin that Spencer feels the damp seep into his jeans and through his shirt. He's distracted from it when Brendon's lips land on his, and. Yeah.
Eventually, using superhuman restraint, he manages to pull away from the slip-slide of Brendon's lips and tongue against his, just enough to point out, "You're getting my clothes wet."
"So take them off," Brendon mouths against Spencer's chin.
"You take them off." Spencer's busy, with his hands full of Brendon, and he's not letting go until he's had his fill.
Brendon struggles blindly with the buttons of Spencer's black shirt. He's still pressing light kisses to Spencer's cheek, rubbing his own against the bristle of softening beard. Spencer is amused at the faint sounds of discontent that end with Brendon tugging harder on the placket of the shirt, hard enough to send one button flying, and the others loose from their moorings.
"You need to wear easier access shirts."
"You liked it well enough to borrow one."
Brendon lifts his head, and flutters his eyelashes at Spencer.
"I wanted to know if it would add to my sex appeal. Fangirl consensus is that your black button-downs are A-plus in the hot department."
"You really need to delete that sockpuppet, okay? And your sex appeal doesn't need to be augmented. The switch from girl jeans is already enough to cause spontaneous combustion."
Brendon's grin cannot get any wider. "Speaking of jeans..."
His palms curve over the arch of Spencer's hips for a second, then he gets to work taking them off. Spencer huffs a laugh at Brendon's concentration - his eyes are narrow, his tongue poking between his lips - but he's getting what he wants, so he cooperates when Brendon prods him, arches his back so the jeans can be tugged down and tossed away. Then Spencer is submerged in a blur of skin and smell and sound. Sex with Brendon is different than anything Spencer's ever had with anyone else - a mix of laughter with lust - and tonight's no different. Brendon teases and taunts, alternating deep, slow kisses with soft butterfly ones and bold touches with falsely shy ones, until finally Spencer flips him over and pins him to mattress with his weight. He knows Brendon likes that, likes to feel the size difference between them, likes feeling surrounded.
He kneels, Brendon trapped between his knees, intending to grab the lube and condom, and admires the flex of muscle and sinew as Brendon stretches. Brendon glances over his shoulder and murmurs, "See anything you want?"
"As a matter of fact..."
Spencer slaps his hand to one cheek, sharply enough to leave a reddened handprint. Brendon rocks back into, then squirms against the bedcovers. Spencer does it again, and pauses to admire the view, the contrast of his handprint with the otherwise pale skin, the curve of Brendon's ass, round and pert, and - he will swear later that he didn't even know what he was doing until he actually did it - presses a light kiss right where the buttock meets thigh, and then turns his head and sinks his teeth in.
Spencer feels more than hears Brendon moan, and his hips jerk before he slumps bonelessly on the bed.
"Brendon, did you just...?"
"Mmph." Brendon drags his face out of the pillow and glances back at Spencer. "Don't judge me, okay?"
Jesus.
Spencer takes a deep breath, tries to quell the sizzle of heat in his gut. He brushes his fingers up Brendon's flank and palms his ass, covering spot he slapped just seconds before, before letting his thumb run along the crease. He hesitates before pressing one dry fingertip against Brendon's entrance.
"You should still fuck me." Brendon's voice is low, serious. They've had this conversation before, done this enough for Spencer to know that Brendon likes it like that, that he can get hard again if Spencer can hold out long enough.
He picks up the forgotten lube, squirts some onto his finger. When he nudges Brendon's leg, Brendon shifts, spreads obligingly; Spencer spreads lube around before pushing one finger in to the first knuckle. He's - it's not - apparently it's a night for doing things without thinking them through, because rimming is not really hot, in Spencer's mind, nothing he's ever wanted to do, and Brendon hasn't asked for it, but Brendon's lying there, lax and willing, and Spencer can see how he yields to his touch, see the fading mark his teeth left, and. He brushes his lips up Brendon's thigh to his ass, feels the soft skin and tiny hairs, and traces the seam that separates muscle from softer flesh. When Brendon sighs, he adds a second lubed finger, and when Brendon whines, he withdraws them, replacing them with lips and tongue before he can stop and think about it. He feels Brendon go completely still, tension replacing his previous languor.
Spencer lifts his head. "Brendon?"
"Jesus, don't stop!"
Spencer gets back to it, applying lips and tongue and fingers together, and Brendon goes from being rigid and tense against his hand to lax and pliant. He doesn't stop until he feels Brendon pushing back against him, telling him, "C'mon, come on!"
He grabs the condom, rolls it on, and he has every intention of fucking Brendon just as they are, so Brendon's stretched out beneath him, vulnerable, but at the last moment he changes his mind. Instead, he urges Brendon over, onto his back, and. God. Brendon's lips are swollen and red from being bitten, his eyes wide and dark, and his cock is flushed and hard, leaking against his belly. Spencer practically falls on him in his rush. Then Brendon's arms are around his shoulders and he lines up and sinks in, not stopping until his hips are pressed to the curve of Brendon's ass.
Brendon breathes out, a ragged not-quite-sigh.
"Hey."
Spencer rubs his nose against Brendon's, not sure if Brendon'll want to kiss him. But Brendon does, brushing their lips together as he pulls Spencer closer, presses his heel to Spencer's ass and tilts his hips up.
"God, just - move, please?"
And Brendon's already come, so he's got no right to sound as needy and pleading as he does, as needy as Spencer feels. It runs straight through Spencer, and he knows he's not going to last, but he tries, setting a steady pace of slow, sharp thrusts. Brendon's hold on Spencer loosens when he takes his cock in hand and matches Spencer's rhythm.
Spencer watches Brendon come this time, watches his eyes slam shut and his neck arch, sees the splatter of come on Brendon's hand and belly. He imagines his own come on Brendon's ass, covering the marks his teeth and hand left. Just like that, he's done, his hips jerking against Brendon's as he spills into the condom.
He thinks, Maybe next time.
He manages, after catching his breath, to roll away from Brendon and take care of the condom. Brendon staggers into the bathroom while Spencer's washing the lube and latex smell off his hands. He takes the washcloth Spencer hands him, watching Spencer in the mirror as he wipes himself off.
"You bit my ass."
Spencer will not blush. He refuses to. He's got nothing to be embarrassed about. Besides -
"You liked it."
"You bit my ass."
"You came!"
"Then you kissed it."
"Do you not want me to do that again?"
"...no. I mean, yes. Please."