count in fives :: brendon/travis :: nc-17
Title: Count in Fives
Pairing: Brendon/Travis
Rating: NC-17
Word count: 1900
Summary: Brendon knows the rules.
Notes: I was supposed to write a Big Bang starring Brendon and Travis and their sexual shenanigans of sexualness. But that didn't happen, so here, have some self-indulgent, plotless porn instead :D Title taken from a song of the same name by The Horrors. Thanks to my good friends and awesome betas fallintosilence and itsallhushush <3
Travis traces his finger lightly around Brendon's rim, barely touching him, making him tense up in anticipation, making him arch his back and whimper.
"Remember our deal, Brendon?"
Brendon bites his lip. His thighs tremble from being spread for so long. Travis shifts on the bed next to him and pushes a bit harder against Brendon's hole. Not hard enough, though. Brendon squeezes his eyes shut and nods stiffly.
"Good boy. You let me touch you, just like this," Travis presses his thumb to the spot right behind Brendon's balls that has Brendon tipping his neck back and whining, "And I'll let you come."
Brendon will take what he can get, and when Travis pulls his hand from between Brendon's legs and touches his fingers to Brendon's mouth, he sucks them in without question, getting them wet and ready, cock throbbing in anticipation.
Travis pushes his fingers harder into Brendon's mouth, tips touching the back of Brendon's tongue, but Brendon doesn't care. He sucks for a few seconds longer, and Travis pulls his fingers away, spit trailing from the tip of one of them. Brendon adjusts himself against the pillows, half propped up, half lying down with his legs spread wide, wide, wide. He's been like this for what seems like hours, naked and sprawled out on the bed while Travis touches him everywhere, teasing caresses, promises of what's to come if Brendon can be good.
He didn't think it was possible to spread his thighs any wider, but when Travis pushes that first finger inside, thick and long and so perfect, Brendon tries. His hips arch off the bed and he groans, turning his face into his pillow and trying to muffle the sound. It's so hard to just keep still, to just let Travis have his way and touch him without Brendon ruining it by moving, but he can't help it. He's been like this, strung out and ready, for too long now. He's ready, and he wants, and Brendon's reminded of their deal when Travis' other hand curls possessively around his hip, squeezing hard and bringing his hips back down.
Travis' voice is low and commanding when he says, "No moving."
Brendon's face is scrunched up against the effort of staying still. Usually he can do it, can listen to Travis because he likes to please him. But now, when he's pretty sure he could come from a feather brushing over his cock, one finger inside of him feels like all of Travis. It feels like heaven. He tries to take deep breaths and calm down, but he can't, and Travis' grip doesn't loosen on his hip. The finger inside of him doesn't move. Brendon gasps, "Please, Travis. Fuck, I want-"
"No talking, either. Don't make me gag you, baby boy." With that, Travis crooks his finger up and Brendon's choking on his breath, body snapping taut with the pleasure of it. Travis moves his hand from Brendon's hip, resting his open palm against Brendon's tensing inner thigh, squeezing lightly as he brushes the tip of his second finger along where Travis already has his first. He just teases his fingertip some more, stroking softly against Brendon's skin, driving him insane. He says, low and guttural, meant just for Brendon, "Can you take me just like this? Wet from your spit?"
He wants to shake his head no, opens his eyes wide and silently pleads with Travis to grab the lube, but Travis just smirks, says, "I know you can be good for me," and pushes his second finger alongside the first.
Brendon knows the rules. He know Travis said no talking, but there's no way he could stop himself from letting out a tiny whimper at the intrusion. It's dry, but so good, so full, such nice pressure, and Brendon wants to pull his hips back just a tiny bit. He wants to rock against Travis' hand, feel Travis crook his fingers just right and press his thumb to that spot behind his balls. He wants to babble and curse and say Travis' name but he doesn't. He tenses up and he waits, and it feels like forever before Travis is pulling his fingers out, telling Brendon to, "open your eyes, baby boy, come on," and Brendon listens.
He clenches on nothing when Travis leaves him empty, but he doesn’t whimper like he wants to because he watches Travis reach over the bed for the nightstand and pull out the lube. Brendon's stomach flutters and his thighs shake. It takes Travis a few seconds to lube up, and Brendon smiles at how Travis barely touches the tip of his finger to Brendon's hole, letting him adjust to the cool feeling. Their eyes lock and Brendon gets that familiar swooping feeling dancing in his belly, the same feeling he gets when Travis brushes his fingers along the back of Brendon's neck or just looks across a crowded room and meets Brendon's gaze with a smile.
Travis pushes two fingers into him at once, and Brendon sighs at how good the slippery slide feels. Travis wouldn't push him to take what he couldn't. He didn't need to even say anything; Travis could read it in his eyes.
Travis works him with two fingers, pulling them out slow, until just barely the tip is inside, and then pushing them back inside in the same tantalizingly measured pace. When Brendon feels Travis' knuckles hitting his ass, Travis curls his fingers just right, pushing deliberately into that spot that makes Brendon's pulse quicken and his hips stutter.
"You look so good like this, baby boy." Brendon whimpers and Travis twists his fingers inside, curling them up harder. "Wanna see you lose it from just this."
Brendon trembles, nodding his head and biting his lips. He wishes Travis would just let him move, let him ride the thick fingers inside of him, get himself off against the pressure of it, the fullness. He wants to buck his hips up, wants to roll over and rub them into the mattress, wants to just throw his head back and fucking come already, but Travis is taking his time, only just now slicking up his fingers again and giving Brendon three this time. He can't help it - he arches off the bed, slightly, so slightly, and then freezes, hopeful Travis won't say anything. He doesn't, doesn't tell Brendon anything, but he squeezes at Brendon's thigh, nails digging in, and picks up the pace, fingers thrusting in faster, curling up with more intent, rubbing Brendon right there.
Travis groans and Brendon wishes he could curl his body against Travis' chest, feel his chest rumble and his breath against Brendon's ear. It's just three fingers, just three, but it feels so good, so right. Brendon closes his eyes and thinks about how good it is. He thinks about Travis' hand holding his thigh. He thinks about Travis arm flexing and releasing, pushing his hand forward, fingering Brendon with no real rhythm, just desperation. Brendon loves how Travis can touch him just right, can feel him with his hands, feel him from the inside and stroke all the right places to turn Brendon into the panting, sweating mess that he is right now.
Brendon feels like he's riding those final waves, like he's about to lose it any second, and suddenly Travis' fingers stop moving, stop curling, just stop. Brendon whines because he's left with just the heavy weight of them inside him. Brendon shuts his eyes and tries not to think of how fucking badly he just needs release, tries not to let it show. He doesn't move, doesn't speak. Travis speaks low, says, "Pull your knees up. Come on, do it. Now."
Brendon doesn't think twice or argue or ask why. He knows why. Travis loves to watch him hold his legs back, opening himself more for Travis to see, to touch. He curls his hands around the back of his knees and pulls up, groaning in pain. It hurts, legs having been so tense for so long, but it feels good too. It feels good to move them and to let Travis have it all, to see him like this, so open and vulnerable and his. He smiles to himself and whimpers when Travis thrusts his fingers back, three at once, and fucks Brendon with them.
He was so close before, but now he's positively on fire, loving how open he feels, how much deeper Travis' fingers seem to be reaching, how he can't seem to pull his legs back far enough, open them wide enough. Travis is panting too, and Brendon can imagine the look on his face as he watches where his fingers disappear into Brendon. Brendon would open his eyes to see himself, but he can't, he can't, and he just wants, needs so badly to come, he'll do anything. Without meaning to, without thinking, he pleads, voice completely wrecked and broken, "please, Travis. Let me, please, I need-"
Travis fingers Brendon harder and says, "Come, Brendon. Now."
Brendon does. And he hadn't even realized how much his body was holding back. But when Travis says it, when he tells Brendon it's okay, there's nothing that can hold back the groan, the cursing, the mantra of Travis' name, over and over, the please, the yes, the oh god. He knows his grip on his legs is slipping, but he doesn't care. Nothing matters except for riding out those last waves of pleasure and then finally crashing back down, body bouncing on the bed, completely exhausted and spent and wrecked.
His legs hurt, his back hurts, his arms hurt, and he feels sore and open where Travis still has his fingers buried inside. He pulls them out slowly, wipes his hand on the bed sheets and breathes heavy with Brendon. Brendon feels himself dosing off, but Travis nudges his shoulder and scoots him over on the bed so that he's lying down and the covers are thrown over his body. It makes something constrict in his chest to feel how Travis cares for him after, and he feels heat pool in his belly when Travis crawls up his chest and straddles him, knees on either side of his shoulder, cock in hand. He's leaking, so hard, and Brendon thinks I did that. He feels proud, feels accomplished and wanted, and opens his mouth for Travis to push his cock into, just the head, not more than Travis knows Brendon can take right now when he's so tired. Travis is doing most of the work, hand moving over his shaft while Brendon sucks on the head, swiping his tongue around the crown and over the slit, tasting salt and feeling Travis shudder.
It doesn't take long, barely a minute, and Travis says, "Fuck, Brendon, Brendon," and comes in his mouth, on his lips, the side of his face, his pillow. But he's so tired, so sleepy and exhausted that he doesn't care, just smiles and licks his lips and turns his head to the side, eyes closing. The last thing he registers before he drifts off is Travis' fond chuckle and the feeling of a warm washcloth over his face, a solid body sliding under the covers next to him, and a whispered, "Night, baby boy," into his ear.
Pairing: Brendon/Travis
Rating: NC-17
Word count: 1900
Summary: Brendon knows the rules.
Notes: I was supposed to write a Big Bang starring Brendon and Travis and their sexual shenanigans of sexualness. But that didn't happen, so here, have some self-indulgent, plotless porn instead :D Title taken from a song of the same name by The Horrors. Thanks to my good friends and awesome betas fallintosilence and itsallhushush <3
Travis traces his finger lightly around Brendon's rim, barely touching him, making him tense up in anticipation, making him arch his back and whimper.
"Remember our deal, Brendon?"
Brendon bites his lip. His thighs tremble from being spread for so long. Travis shifts on the bed next to him and pushes a bit harder against Brendon's hole. Not hard enough, though. Brendon squeezes his eyes shut and nods stiffly.
"Good boy. You let me touch you, just like this," Travis presses his thumb to the spot right behind Brendon's balls that has Brendon tipping his neck back and whining, "And I'll let you come."
Brendon will take what he can get, and when Travis pulls his hand from between Brendon's legs and touches his fingers to Brendon's mouth, he sucks them in without question, getting them wet and ready, cock throbbing in anticipation.
Travis pushes his fingers harder into Brendon's mouth, tips touching the back of Brendon's tongue, but Brendon doesn't care. He sucks for a few seconds longer, and Travis pulls his fingers away, spit trailing from the tip of one of them. Brendon adjusts himself against the pillows, half propped up, half lying down with his legs spread wide, wide, wide. He's been like this for what seems like hours, naked and sprawled out on the bed while Travis touches him everywhere, teasing caresses, promises of what's to come if Brendon can be good.
He didn't think it was possible to spread his thighs any wider, but when Travis pushes that first finger inside, thick and long and so perfect, Brendon tries. His hips arch off the bed and he groans, turning his face into his pillow and trying to muffle the sound. It's so hard to just keep still, to just let Travis have his way and touch him without Brendon ruining it by moving, but he can't help it. He's been like this, strung out and ready, for too long now. He's ready, and he wants, and Brendon's reminded of their deal when Travis' other hand curls possessively around his hip, squeezing hard and bringing his hips back down.
Travis' voice is low and commanding when he says, "No moving."
Brendon's face is scrunched up against the effort of staying still. Usually he can do it, can listen to Travis because he likes to please him. But now, when he's pretty sure he could come from a feather brushing over his cock, one finger inside of him feels like all of Travis. It feels like heaven. He tries to take deep breaths and calm down, but he can't, and Travis' grip doesn't loosen on his hip. The finger inside of him doesn't move. Brendon gasps, "Please, Travis. Fuck, I want-"
"No talking, either. Don't make me gag you, baby boy." With that, Travis crooks his finger up and Brendon's choking on his breath, body snapping taut with the pleasure of it. Travis moves his hand from Brendon's hip, resting his open palm against Brendon's tensing inner thigh, squeezing lightly as he brushes the tip of his second finger along where Travis already has his first. He just teases his fingertip some more, stroking softly against Brendon's skin, driving him insane. He says, low and guttural, meant just for Brendon, "Can you take me just like this? Wet from your spit?"
He wants to shake his head no, opens his eyes wide and silently pleads with Travis to grab the lube, but Travis just smirks, says, "I know you can be good for me," and pushes his second finger alongside the first.
Brendon knows the rules. He know Travis said no talking, but there's no way he could stop himself from letting out a tiny whimper at the intrusion. It's dry, but so good, so full, such nice pressure, and Brendon wants to pull his hips back just a tiny bit. He wants to rock against Travis' hand, feel Travis crook his fingers just right and press his thumb to that spot behind his balls. He wants to babble and curse and say Travis' name but he doesn't. He tenses up and he waits, and it feels like forever before Travis is pulling his fingers out, telling Brendon to, "open your eyes, baby boy, come on," and Brendon listens.
He clenches on nothing when Travis leaves him empty, but he doesn’t whimper like he wants to because he watches Travis reach over the bed for the nightstand and pull out the lube. Brendon's stomach flutters and his thighs shake. It takes Travis a few seconds to lube up, and Brendon smiles at how Travis barely touches the tip of his finger to Brendon's hole, letting him adjust to the cool feeling. Their eyes lock and Brendon gets that familiar swooping feeling dancing in his belly, the same feeling he gets when Travis brushes his fingers along the back of Brendon's neck or just looks across a crowded room and meets Brendon's gaze with a smile.
Travis pushes two fingers into him at once, and Brendon sighs at how good the slippery slide feels. Travis wouldn't push him to take what he couldn't. He didn't need to even say anything; Travis could read it in his eyes.
Travis works him with two fingers, pulling them out slow, until just barely the tip is inside, and then pushing them back inside in the same tantalizingly measured pace. When Brendon feels Travis' knuckles hitting his ass, Travis curls his fingers just right, pushing deliberately into that spot that makes Brendon's pulse quicken and his hips stutter.
"You look so good like this, baby boy." Brendon whimpers and Travis twists his fingers inside, curling them up harder. "Wanna see you lose it from just this."
Brendon trembles, nodding his head and biting his lips. He wishes Travis would just let him move, let him ride the thick fingers inside of him, get himself off against the pressure of it, the fullness. He wants to buck his hips up, wants to roll over and rub them into the mattress, wants to just throw his head back and fucking come already, but Travis is taking his time, only just now slicking up his fingers again and giving Brendon three this time. He can't help it - he arches off the bed, slightly, so slightly, and then freezes, hopeful Travis won't say anything. He doesn't, doesn't tell Brendon anything, but he squeezes at Brendon's thigh, nails digging in, and picks up the pace, fingers thrusting in faster, curling up with more intent, rubbing Brendon right there.
Travis groans and Brendon wishes he could curl his body against Travis' chest, feel his chest rumble and his breath against Brendon's ear. It's just three fingers, just three, but it feels so good, so right. Brendon closes his eyes and thinks about how good it is. He thinks about Travis' hand holding his thigh. He thinks about Travis arm flexing and releasing, pushing his hand forward, fingering Brendon with no real rhythm, just desperation. Brendon loves how Travis can touch him just right, can feel him with his hands, feel him from the inside and stroke all the right places to turn Brendon into the panting, sweating mess that he is right now.
Brendon feels like he's riding those final waves, like he's about to lose it any second, and suddenly Travis' fingers stop moving, stop curling, just stop. Brendon whines because he's left with just the heavy weight of them inside him. Brendon shuts his eyes and tries not to think of how fucking badly he just needs release, tries not to let it show. He doesn't move, doesn't speak. Travis speaks low, says, "Pull your knees up. Come on, do it. Now."
Brendon doesn't think twice or argue or ask why. He knows why. Travis loves to watch him hold his legs back, opening himself more for Travis to see, to touch. He curls his hands around the back of his knees and pulls up, groaning in pain. It hurts, legs having been so tense for so long, but it feels good too. It feels good to move them and to let Travis have it all, to see him like this, so open and vulnerable and his. He smiles to himself and whimpers when Travis thrusts his fingers back, three at once, and fucks Brendon with them.
He was so close before, but now he's positively on fire, loving how open he feels, how much deeper Travis' fingers seem to be reaching, how he can't seem to pull his legs back far enough, open them wide enough. Travis is panting too, and Brendon can imagine the look on his face as he watches where his fingers disappear into Brendon. Brendon would open his eyes to see himself, but he can't, he can't, and he just wants, needs so badly to come, he'll do anything. Without meaning to, without thinking, he pleads, voice completely wrecked and broken, "please, Travis. Let me, please, I need-"
Travis fingers Brendon harder and says, "Come, Brendon. Now."
Brendon does. And he hadn't even realized how much his body was holding back. But when Travis says it, when he tells Brendon it's okay, there's nothing that can hold back the groan, the cursing, the mantra of Travis' name, over and over, the please, the yes, the oh god. He knows his grip on his legs is slipping, but he doesn't care. Nothing matters except for riding out those last waves of pleasure and then finally crashing back down, body bouncing on the bed, completely exhausted and spent and wrecked.
His legs hurt, his back hurts, his arms hurt, and he feels sore and open where Travis still has his fingers buried inside. He pulls them out slowly, wipes his hand on the bed sheets and breathes heavy with Brendon. Brendon feels himself dosing off, but Travis nudges his shoulder and scoots him over on the bed so that he's lying down and the covers are thrown over his body. It makes something constrict in his chest to feel how Travis cares for him after, and he feels heat pool in his belly when Travis crawls up his chest and straddles him, knees on either side of his shoulder, cock in hand. He's leaking, so hard, and Brendon thinks I did that. He feels proud, feels accomplished and wanted, and opens his mouth for Travis to push his cock into, just the head, not more than Travis knows Brendon can take right now when he's so tired. Travis is doing most of the work, hand moving over his shaft while Brendon sucks on the head, swiping his tongue around the crown and over the slit, tasting salt and feeling Travis shudder.
It doesn't take long, barely a minute, and Travis says, "Fuck, Brendon, Brendon," and comes in his mouth, on his lips, the side of his face, his pillow. But he's so tired, so sleepy and exhausted that he doesn't care, just smiles and licks his lips and turns his head to the side, eyes closing. The last thing he registers before he drifts off is Travis' fond chuckle and the feeling of a warm washcloth over his face, a solid body sliding under the covers next to him, and a whispered, "Night, baby boy," into his ear.