Fly on the Wall; Panic at the Disco; Pete/Brendon/Jon/Spencer
Title: Fly on the Wall
Fandom: Panic at the Disco
Pairing: Pete/Brendon/Jon/Spencer (seriously)
Word Count: 3417
Rating: NC-17
Summary: "Holy fucking shit!" Spencer yells, even louder than Pete spoke moments before, and Brendon sinks into his seat as people turn to look at them. "Brendon The Stripper Urie! That's your new stage name!"
Author's Notes: Written for cutxnoxcorners because I wanted to surprise her with something when she got home. So I got a prompt from her. It was, "stripper Jon/Bren" and well... It's evolved from there. Hope you like it, love. <3 And the song that's in this fic is here: http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=Vornytm_TjU
Nights like this are nice. It isn't anything big; it definitely isn't as big as Pete's bachelor party had been. Brendon can bet his life on the fact that Patrick had invited every person he'd ever spoken to to Pete's party when setting it up. It'd been amazing, don't get him wrong, but it had been way too over the top. Tonight is just about friendship, and Brendon likes that, the five of them in a busy club on The Strip. Pete had come for an interview, and left Ashlee and Bronx at home. Somehow, they'd managed to find their way here.
"To friendship!" they'd begun the night. After they'd all downed a shot, Spencer had suddenly decided to add, "To the fact that Pete is knocking on thirty's door with a kid and we're young as fuck!"
The night hasn't really gotten any more mature since then. Brendon's glad he'd chosen this. Ryan had been talking about going out to eat and Spencer had mentioned some sort of movie night, but then Brendon had decided that they were going to a strip club, no questions about it. Now, he wishes he had chosen a different one as he watches the girl on stage try to work her assets.
She's putting on a good show, that much is true, but Brendon is bored. No one else is though as Jon whistles, and Pete and Spencer fight over a twenty. It isn't as if it matters who throws it - Spencer's chair is right against Pete's and Brendon has to wonder when the two became almost as close as Ryan and himself, hanging off of one another.
As the girl swings around the pole awkwardly - not that anyone but Brendon notices - he has to wonder where Ryan is. He'd seen him talking, or more correctly slurring, to some stripper Brendon had named Candy. Her hair was bleached blonde with pink tips, and she wore enough pink make-up for ten women to share. She was nothing that Ryan would go for normally, yet the guitarist had been drunk enough to decide she was "perfect," as he'd told Brendon six times before he finally got up to speak to her, and had now disappeared with her.
"What's wrong?" Jon finally asks and Brendon glances over to him, only to notice his own posture. He's pouting, and his arms are crossed over his chest. It's clear he isn't having a good time, especially as Jon asks, "Do you want a twenty?"
Brendon just shakes his head and glances back up to the pole as the girl continues to move to the bad music that is blaring. At least the alcohol tastes good, he figures, as he downs his third beer. "She sucks."
"Probably." Jon doesn't get it, and instead throws a five onto the stage, garnering a few seconds of interest from her.
"No. I mean, she's awful." The music is thankfully loud enough that she doesn't hear, because he doesn't want her to start ignoring them. He's certain Spencer would kill him.
Jon's watching him as if he has five heads. "No she isn't. She--"
All words are cut off as Spencer snaps, "That's my fucking twenty!" and goes to push Pete out of his chair for it. Pete responds by trying to bite Spencer's hand and it's been like this since before Ryan disappeared with Candy.
"Is not, dick!" Pete snaps back and manages to get enough control over it to throw it onto the stage. The woman, who is wearing heels much too tall for her own good, gives them a minute of attention which is enough to quell the fighting, instead causing the two men to simply stare at her. Brendon rolls his eyes and finds himself annoyed.
"She's doing it wrong," he says to the three of them loudly.
Spencer glances over, watches Brendon as if trying to figure him out, and the motions to Pete's crotch. "According to Pete's tent-o-meter, she's about a nine and a half on a scale of ten." True to his word, Pete is hard, but that isn't exactly the most difficult thing in the world to do some days.
Brendon only makes an annoyed noise and looks back at the stage. He drinks a bit more of his beer and then looks to the other, repeating himself. "She's doing it wrong."
"You just don't like her because she has tits," Pete says a bit too loud, the alcohol obviously killing his hearing. And Brendon just scoffs as the group end up giggling at him.
"I like tits!" he argues quickly, and even to his own ears that sounds a bit desperate. He doesn't love them, but he doesn't hate them. He just can't honestly see what the big deal over them is. Yet that's not even the issue, he reminds himself as he looks up to the half-nude girl grinding against the pole. "She just doesn't know how to strip."
Brendon realises what he's said a bit too late as Pete asks, "And you do?" And all Brendon can do is sit there, quiet while hoping no one picks up on the slight flush to his cheeks. After all, he isn't exactly sober.
"Holy fucking shit!" Spencer yells, even louder than Pete spoke moments before, and Brendon sinks into his seat as people turn to look at them. "Brendon The Stripper Urie! That's your new stage name!"
He looks desperately to Jon for help because the older man has always been the wisest one. He's all too relieved as Jon looks to the two with a serious face and says, "Stop it boys." Just as Brendon begins to tell the other thanks, Jon adds, "I was thinking more along the lines of 'The Strip.' Then it won't be so obvious." They all collapse into a fit of giggles and Brendon groans to himself.
"Fuck all of you," he says and he isn't drunk enough for this.
---
"All of you can suck my dick!" Brendon yells as he paces and maybe after two more beers and a few shots of tequila, he's a bit too drunk to really be thinking straight. Yet the apartment is silent as the three men watch him from the couch, waiting for this to end. He has been bitching for ten minutes and he is far from done. "I wish Ryan was here instead of fucking Candy Big Tits McWhore. I'm going to make sure he remembers this. He never fucks those girls. Why tonight!? He needs to be backing me up!"
The only thing that gives away the slight bit of annoyance Jon is facing is the fact that he is tapping his fingers against the arm rest to the couch. "Alright, Br--"
"It's not alright!" Brendon snaps. "She sucked at it and you three were thinking more about the fact that you wanted to fuck her instead of watching how she tripped like six times in those heels!" He knows he is over reacting, but no one is taking him seriously and he's frustrated. He does realise that he's reacting just like Spencer did when Hobo got hold of his favourite shoes when Ryan left the door open to the closet. Brendon doesn't care, though.
He isn't sure what he really wants. Maybe to be told he's right, maybe to just be allowed to yell until he's tired and goes to bed. Yet he isn't ready for Jon's daring, "Then show us how it should be done."
He stumbles a bit and stares at him, the stare only being matched by Spencer. Pete is laughing and Brendon wants to kick him. He almost wants to refuse, because he can't do this when he's this drunk but then he realises he'd still do a better job than the idiot they'd watched for two hours. So he heads off quickly, and he hears Spencer mumbling to Jon about how he'd done a good job, making Brendon leave. He isn't sure if Spencer is being sarcastic or not, and doesn't focus on that as he searches through the large music collection in the house to find the CD he wants.
When he gets back to the living room, he makes sure to hide the CD cover from them and slips it into the stereo. He skips to the sixth song on the album, and then moves the coffee table, because he has enough sense about him to know that he'll fall very quickly if he keeps it in his dancing area. A hand goes to his hip as he stands in front of them. "Rules. No touching. That's it. Because you wouldn't grab a stripper in a club, would you?"
"Just do it," Pete orders.
Brendon rolls his eyes, then he grabs for the remote and presses play.
The beat starts up quickly, and he can see in the television's reflection that the three men are confused. He even hears Spencer whisper something about Britney Spears. A moment later though, as Miley Cyrus's voice begins to fill the room, Pete starts laughing. He doesn't care though as he swings his hips to the music, but finally he flips them off as Jon and Spencer start giggling.
His foot taps along to the beat and he waits for the right moment to turn around. When he does, Brendon lets his hand grab the hem of his shirt, and pulls it up to show his stomach. It's a lot more sensual than any time he's ever done it during a concert though, and his finger tips trail his stomach slowly. He locks eyes with Jon, and smirks, because the normally so completely composed man is just staring.
He lets the shirt drop back down, and moves closer to the couch, swinging his hips to the beat. When he gets to the three men, he stands in front of them and undoes one button to his jeans, followed by another, all too slow. And as he begins to sing the lyrics, he reminds himself to always wear button-fly jeans, because he can see Pete's hard-on is starting to return.
"Then you'd have the inside scoop on what to say, what to do..." He grasps the rest of his jeans and yanks quickly; they are forced undone and show his navy blue boxers - not the sexiest thing in the world, but they're comfortable - underneath. Spencer moans all the same, and Brendon has to hide the laugh that threatens to tumble past his lips.
He doesn't take off his pants, but instead removes his shirt with such skill, and wraps it behind Pete's neck. He leans down and sings, "A creepy little sneaky little fly on the wall. All my precious secrets, yeah, you'd know them all. Don't you wish you could be a fly on the wall," to him and knows he is grinning when he hears the moan that's given. Pete never made a sound like that, not even when Ashlee had gotten drunk that one Christmas and nearly rode Pete in front of everyone at the Fueled By Ramen Christmas party.
Brendon lets go of the shirt and turns around instead to grind against Spencer's crotch. He watches Spencer through lidded eyes as he keeps up the rhythm to the song somehow, and finally gives a chuckle as Spencer moves to touch his hip but Jon swats his hand away. He is smart; he knows Brendon will stop if his rule is broken.
He moves away from Spencer to instead saunter in front of Jon, and turns around. His head lowers as he runs his hands over his thighs and legs, then pulls up slowly. The last two articles of clothing are pulled down to reveal his ass, and he looks behind him as he dances still. "You always second guess, wonderin' there's other guys I'm flirting with. You should know by now. If you were my boyfriend, I'd be true to you." The pants are dropped, and he steps out of them before finally turning around.
This is a new level of closeness between the group. It's not like they've never been so stoned and drunk out of their mind that they didn't have a group jerk off or two. Yet they had all been focusing on their girlfriends of the time, not each other, and Brendon is hard as he lets them see him from the front. Yet they all are too, and he just dances with the music, singing and enjoying the attention he's getting. The song comes to a close and he leans down to sing to Spencer, "Don't you wish you could be a fly on the wall."
Pete's voice breaks him from the spell as he states, "No, but I wish I was your pants."
Brendon looks to him sharply and he can't mean that. He has Ashlee; yet Pete has such lust in his eyes and Brendon finally decides fuck it, they're drunk, it doesn't matter. So he moves over to him and straddles him. Everyone can have a gay fuck every so often, he figures. "Really?"
"Yeah, really," Pete says. When the song changes and Bottom of the Ocean begins to play, the look of lust is broken just long enough for Pete to scrunch up his nose at the music. It doesn't matter that Pete had interviews with Miley before and likes her; it's still the music, and Brendon understands. "Why the fuck do you own this?"
"I don't. Ryan does."
That seems to explain it all as he feels a hand touch his ass, and he hears Spencer mutter something about how someone can be so damn gay but so straight at the same time. Brendon doesn't care though as Pete's fingers find their way to his hole and he strokes it. It should be too much, too fast, and yet he just gives a quiet sigh and presses against the fingers.
"On the floor."
"What?" Brendon asks Pete quickly, a surprised look flashing on his face.
"We can't very well fuck you up here, can we? Floor. On your hands and knees."
Brendon grins and moves to the position. It's too much to keep his head up though, and it ends up resting on the floor, blocking his view for a moment. When he looks up, he sees Spencer on his hands and knees in front of him, and wonders briefly how fucking drunk the man is if he managed to get undressed that fast, and on the floor without even a word.
He doesn't really care as he feels a finger slip in and fuck, he's so drunk he can't even tell who it is. He expects Pete but when he looks back, he sees Jon behind him, moving his hand quickly to prep Brendon with lube that seems to have appeared out of thin air. He knows realistically someone had to have had it in their jeans but doesn't care, not as the second finger enters.
A small noise that Brendon can only really explain as a mewl hits Brendon's ears and he glances up to see Spencer getting prepped by Pete. It's possibly the hottest thing he's ever seen, and he lets his eyes slip close for a moment to just enjoy everything. The tear of the condom makes him open his eyes sharply, and he looks to see Jon removing his fingers, covering himself quickly with the small piece of protection. Another tear and Pete is doing the same. It's too much, not getting touched for that brief second, and he finds he's always so damn needy when drunk. It doesn't matter now as he leans forward to kiss Spencer.
The kiss is alright at first. Not the greatest in the world by any means, not when they're both gasping for breath and trying to stay still and calm on the ground, but it's definitely good. Then when Jon and Pete enter Brendon and Spencer respectively, the kiss goes to hell, Spencer gasping loudly, Brendon jerking his head a bit. Their teeth clash and yet they don't care as Brendon moves to kiss Spencer, running his tongue over the other's.
Jon feels so damn good inside of him and it's been too long, far too long, since he's had this. He knows it's been even longer for Spencer though, because he's always thought of the man as straight with just a dash of gay, able to take it up the ass no more than once a year without protesting. His prostate is suddenly hit and he doesn't care which way anyone swings as he moans loudly.
He hears someone chuckle, either Pete or Jon as he knows it can't be himself, and then goes back to kissing Spencer, only to swallow the drummer's cry as Pete hits the same spot inside of Spencer. Spencer and Brendon's foreheads bump as they try so damn hard to kiss each other but it doesn't really matter, not when they're getting fucked into the next century.
Every thrust makes Brendon moan a bit louder, and he finds his hand grasping Spencer's, because he needs something to keep him grounded. Otherwise he knows he'll come too fast, and realises suddenly that Jon is a cruel man as he takes his dick in hand. He seems to be following Pete's movements though, jerking Spencer off, but Brendon doesn't care. He's going to come within seconds of the bassist keeps doing what he's doing.
It's hard to keep himself up as he's rocked into, his prostate being brushed every time. He breaks the kiss to hide his face against Spencer's neck, nipping and sucking but doing his best to simply hide the fact that he's certain he's flushed beyond belief, and maybe even crying from how fucking good this is. He isn't sure, but just knows he can't lift his head.
A sharp tug to his hair makes him though and he can tell it's Jon's hand, especially as Jon whispers into his ear, "I want to see you come." That's all it takes and he shouldn't be that easy, but with a silent cry, Brendon's coming, all over Jon's hand and the floor. He stares at Spencer as he comes, as if in a daze, and seconds later watches Spencer's eyes close tight as he cries out and follows suit. A particularly hard thrust and then no movement lets Brendon know Jon is coming, and the way Pete's trying to catch his breath, he knows the man has too. It makes him a bit sad that he didn't see either of their faces when they came, but he can't care.
It seems like ages until Jon finally pulls out but it's still too soon, and Brendon whines at the empty feeling. He collapses to the ground though and does his best to remember to breathe. A moment later Spencer is next to him, and Brendon curls into the drummer, even if now it's nothing more than on a friendship level. When he looks up he sees Pete and Jon grinning, so amused, and just lets his eyes close again. "You two shouldn't be grinning. You both just cheated."
It shouldn't be something to talk about now, but it slips out. Yet Jon's laughing and Pete follows suit, which makes Brendon roll over to see them. "What?"
"Cassie has interesting kinks. I don't think she'll mind."
Brendon doesn't get it until Pete asks, "Cassie too? Ashlee loves to watch me fuck any guy that moves, I swear. She's still whining about how I should invite Patrick over."
Brendon rolls back over so he's against Spencer and he'll have to remember that for tomorrow. Yet he hears the door open and cocks his head to look up. Ryan's standing in the door frame, hair a mess, clothes unkempt, pink lipstick covering his lips and a bit of his chin. "Hey, Ry," he says cheerfully.
"Fuck," Ryan snaps as he throws up his hands, seemingly fed up. "I'm gone for three fucking hours and you have an orgy without me!?"
Spencer catches it long before Brendon does, it seems, as the youngest male smiles up at Ryan with a devilish look in his eyes. "You're invited next time."
"If you aren't fucking Candy Big Tits," Brendon adds. "Because I don't need to catch herpes, thanks."
Jon and Pete are laughing, and Brendon can't help but laugh too as Ryan storms off to the bedroom, even if he's exhausted.
Fandom: Panic at the Disco
Pairing: Pete/Brendon/Jon/Spencer (seriously)
Word Count: 3417
Rating: NC-17
Summary: "Holy fucking shit!" Spencer yells, even louder than Pete spoke moments before, and Brendon sinks into his seat as people turn to look at them. "Brendon The Stripper Urie! That's your new stage name!"
Author's Notes: Written for cutxnoxcorners because I wanted to surprise her with something when she got home. So I got a prompt from her. It was, "stripper Jon/Bren" and well... It's evolved from there. Hope you like it, love. <3 And the song that's in this fic is here: http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=Vornytm_TjU
Nights like this are nice. It isn't anything big; it definitely isn't as big as Pete's bachelor party had been. Brendon can bet his life on the fact that Patrick had invited every person he'd ever spoken to to Pete's party when setting it up. It'd been amazing, don't get him wrong, but it had been way too over the top. Tonight is just about friendship, and Brendon likes that, the five of them in a busy club on The Strip. Pete had come for an interview, and left Ashlee and Bronx at home. Somehow, they'd managed to find their way here.
"To friendship!" they'd begun the night. After they'd all downed a shot, Spencer had suddenly decided to add, "To the fact that Pete is knocking on thirty's door with a kid and we're young as fuck!"
The night hasn't really gotten any more mature since then. Brendon's glad he'd chosen this. Ryan had been talking about going out to eat and Spencer had mentioned some sort of movie night, but then Brendon had decided that they were going to a strip club, no questions about it. Now, he wishes he had chosen a different one as he watches the girl on stage try to work her assets.
She's putting on a good show, that much is true, but Brendon is bored. No one else is though as Jon whistles, and Pete and Spencer fight over a twenty. It isn't as if it matters who throws it - Spencer's chair is right against Pete's and Brendon has to wonder when the two became almost as close as Ryan and himself, hanging off of one another.
As the girl swings around the pole awkwardly - not that anyone but Brendon notices - he has to wonder where Ryan is. He'd seen him talking, or more correctly slurring, to some stripper Brendon had named Candy. Her hair was bleached blonde with pink tips, and she wore enough pink make-up for ten women to share. She was nothing that Ryan would go for normally, yet the guitarist had been drunk enough to decide she was "perfect," as he'd told Brendon six times before he finally got up to speak to her, and had now disappeared with her.
"What's wrong?" Jon finally asks and Brendon glances over to him, only to notice his own posture. He's pouting, and his arms are crossed over his chest. It's clear he isn't having a good time, especially as Jon asks, "Do you want a twenty?"
Brendon just shakes his head and glances back up to the pole as the girl continues to move to the bad music that is blaring. At least the alcohol tastes good, he figures, as he downs his third beer. "She sucks."
"Probably." Jon doesn't get it, and instead throws a five onto the stage, garnering a few seconds of interest from her.
"No. I mean, she's awful." The music is thankfully loud enough that she doesn't hear, because he doesn't want her to start ignoring them. He's certain Spencer would kill him.
Jon's watching him as if he has five heads. "No she isn't. She--"
All words are cut off as Spencer snaps, "That's my fucking twenty!" and goes to push Pete out of his chair for it. Pete responds by trying to bite Spencer's hand and it's been like this since before Ryan disappeared with Candy.
"Is not, dick!" Pete snaps back and manages to get enough control over it to throw it onto the stage. The woman, who is wearing heels much too tall for her own good, gives them a minute of attention which is enough to quell the fighting, instead causing the two men to simply stare at her. Brendon rolls his eyes and finds himself annoyed.
"She's doing it wrong," he says to the three of them loudly.
Spencer glances over, watches Brendon as if trying to figure him out, and the motions to Pete's crotch. "According to Pete's tent-o-meter, she's about a nine and a half on a scale of ten." True to his word, Pete is hard, but that isn't exactly the most difficult thing in the world to do some days.
Brendon only makes an annoyed noise and looks back at the stage. He drinks a bit more of his beer and then looks to the other, repeating himself. "She's doing it wrong."
"You just don't like her because she has tits," Pete says a bit too loud, the alcohol obviously killing his hearing. And Brendon just scoffs as the group end up giggling at him.
"I like tits!" he argues quickly, and even to his own ears that sounds a bit desperate. He doesn't love them, but he doesn't hate them. He just can't honestly see what the big deal over them is. Yet that's not even the issue, he reminds himself as he looks up to the half-nude girl grinding against the pole. "She just doesn't know how to strip."
Brendon realises what he's said a bit too late as Pete asks, "And you do?" And all Brendon can do is sit there, quiet while hoping no one picks up on the slight flush to his cheeks. After all, he isn't exactly sober.
"Holy fucking shit!" Spencer yells, even louder than Pete spoke moments before, and Brendon sinks into his seat as people turn to look at them. "Brendon The Stripper Urie! That's your new stage name!"
He looks desperately to Jon for help because the older man has always been the wisest one. He's all too relieved as Jon looks to the two with a serious face and says, "Stop it boys." Just as Brendon begins to tell the other thanks, Jon adds, "I was thinking more along the lines of 'The Strip.' Then it won't be so obvious." They all collapse into a fit of giggles and Brendon groans to himself.
"Fuck all of you," he says and he isn't drunk enough for this.
---
"All of you can suck my dick!" Brendon yells as he paces and maybe after two more beers and a few shots of tequila, he's a bit too drunk to really be thinking straight. Yet the apartment is silent as the three men watch him from the couch, waiting for this to end. He has been bitching for ten minutes and he is far from done. "I wish Ryan was here instead of fucking Candy Big Tits McWhore. I'm going to make sure he remembers this. He never fucks those girls. Why tonight!? He needs to be backing me up!"
The only thing that gives away the slight bit of annoyance Jon is facing is the fact that he is tapping his fingers against the arm rest to the couch. "Alright, Br--"
"It's not alright!" Brendon snaps. "She sucked at it and you three were thinking more about the fact that you wanted to fuck her instead of watching how she tripped like six times in those heels!" He knows he is over reacting, but no one is taking him seriously and he's frustrated. He does realise that he's reacting just like Spencer did when Hobo got hold of his favourite shoes when Ryan left the door open to the closet. Brendon doesn't care, though.
He isn't sure what he really wants. Maybe to be told he's right, maybe to just be allowed to yell until he's tired and goes to bed. Yet he isn't ready for Jon's daring, "Then show us how it should be done."
He stumbles a bit and stares at him, the stare only being matched by Spencer. Pete is laughing and Brendon wants to kick him. He almost wants to refuse, because he can't do this when he's this drunk but then he realises he'd still do a better job than the idiot they'd watched for two hours. So he heads off quickly, and he hears Spencer mumbling to Jon about how he'd done a good job, making Brendon leave. He isn't sure if Spencer is being sarcastic or not, and doesn't focus on that as he searches through the large music collection in the house to find the CD he wants.
When he gets back to the living room, he makes sure to hide the CD cover from them and slips it into the stereo. He skips to the sixth song on the album, and then moves the coffee table, because he has enough sense about him to know that he'll fall very quickly if he keeps it in his dancing area. A hand goes to his hip as he stands in front of them. "Rules. No touching. That's it. Because you wouldn't grab a stripper in a club, would you?"
"Just do it," Pete orders.
Brendon rolls his eyes, then he grabs for the remote and presses play.
The beat starts up quickly, and he can see in the television's reflection that the three men are confused. He even hears Spencer whisper something about Britney Spears. A moment later though, as Miley Cyrus's voice begins to fill the room, Pete starts laughing. He doesn't care though as he swings his hips to the music, but finally he flips them off as Jon and Spencer start giggling.
His foot taps along to the beat and he waits for the right moment to turn around. When he does, Brendon lets his hand grab the hem of his shirt, and pulls it up to show his stomach. It's a lot more sensual than any time he's ever done it during a concert though, and his finger tips trail his stomach slowly. He locks eyes with Jon, and smirks, because the normally so completely composed man is just staring.
He lets the shirt drop back down, and moves closer to the couch, swinging his hips to the beat. When he gets to the three men, he stands in front of them and undoes one button to his jeans, followed by another, all too slow. And as he begins to sing the lyrics, he reminds himself to always wear button-fly jeans, because he can see Pete's hard-on is starting to return.
"Then you'd have the inside scoop on what to say, what to do..." He grasps the rest of his jeans and yanks quickly; they are forced undone and show his navy blue boxers - not the sexiest thing in the world, but they're comfortable - underneath. Spencer moans all the same, and Brendon has to hide the laugh that threatens to tumble past his lips.
He doesn't take off his pants, but instead removes his shirt with such skill, and wraps it behind Pete's neck. He leans down and sings, "A creepy little sneaky little fly on the wall. All my precious secrets, yeah, you'd know them all. Don't you wish you could be a fly on the wall," to him and knows he is grinning when he hears the moan that's given. Pete never made a sound like that, not even when Ashlee had gotten drunk that one Christmas and nearly rode Pete in front of everyone at the Fueled By Ramen Christmas party.
Brendon lets go of the shirt and turns around instead to grind against Spencer's crotch. He watches Spencer through lidded eyes as he keeps up the rhythm to the song somehow, and finally gives a chuckle as Spencer moves to touch his hip but Jon swats his hand away. He is smart; he knows Brendon will stop if his rule is broken.
He moves away from Spencer to instead saunter in front of Jon, and turns around. His head lowers as he runs his hands over his thighs and legs, then pulls up slowly. The last two articles of clothing are pulled down to reveal his ass, and he looks behind him as he dances still. "You always second guess, wonderin' there's other guys I'm flirting with. You should know by now. If you were my boyfriend, I'd be true to you." The pants are dropped, and he steps out of them before finally turning around.
This is a new level of closeness between the group. It's not like they've never been so stoned and drunk out of their mind that they didn't have a group jerk off or two. Yet they had all been focusing on their girlfriends of the time, not each other, and Brendon is hard as he lets them see him from the front. Yet they all are too, and he just dances with the music, singing and enjoying the attention he's getting. The song comes to a close and he leans down to sing to Spencer, "Don't you wish you could be a fly on the wall."
Pete's voice breaks him from the spell as he states, "No, but I wish I was your pants."
Brendon looks to him sharply and he can't mean that. He has Ashlee; yet Pete has such lust in his eyes and Brendon finally decides fuck it, they're drunk, it doesn't matter. So he moves over to him and straddles him. Everyone can have a gay fuck every so often, he figures. "Really?"
"Yeah, really," Pete says. When the song changes and Bottom of the Ocean begins to play, the look of lust is broken just long enough for Pete to scrunch up his nose at the music. It doesn't matter that Pete had interviews with Miley before and likes her; it's still the music, and Brendon understands. "Why the fuck do you own this?"
"I don't. Ryan does."
That seems to explain it all as he feels a hand touch his ass, and he hears Spencer mutter something about how someone can be so damn gay but so straight at the same time. Brendon doesn't care though as Pete's fingers find their way to his hole and he strokes it. It should be too much, too fast, and yet he just gives a quiet sigh and presses against the fingers.
"On the floor."
"What?" Brendon asks Pete quickly, a surprised look flashing on his face.
"We can't very well fuck you up here, can we? Floor. On your hands and knees."
Brendon grins and moves to the position. It's too much to keep his head up though, and it ends up resting on the floor, blocking his view for a moment. When he looks up, he sees Spencer on his hands and knees in front of him, and wonders briefly how fucking drunk the man is if he managed to get undressed that fast, and on the floor without even a word.
He doesn't really care as he feels a finger slip in and fuck, he's so drunk he can't even tell who it is. He expects Pete but when he looks back, he sees Jon behind him, moving his hand quickly to prep Brendon with lube that seems to have appeared out of thin air. He knows realistically someone had to have had it in their jeans but doesn't care, not as the second finger enters.
A small noise that Brendon can only really explain as a mewl hits Brendon's ears and he glances up to see Spencer getting prepped by Pete. It's possibly the hottest thing he's ever seen, and he lets his eyes slip close for a moment to just enjoy everything. The tear of the condom makes him open his eyes sharply, and he looks to see Jon removing his fingers, covering himself quickly with the small piece of protection. Another tear and Pete is doing the same. It's too much, not getting touched for that brief second, and he finds he's always so damn needy when drunk. It doesn't matter now as he leans forward to kiss Spencer.
The kiss is alright at first. Not the greatest in the world by any means, not when they're both gasping for breath and trying to stay still and calm on the ground, but it's definitely good. Then when Jon and Pete enter Brendon and Spencer respectively, the kiss goes to hell, Spencer gasping loudly, Brendon jerking his head a bit. Their teeth clash and yet they don't care as Brendon moves to kiss Spencer, running his tongue over the other's.
Jon feels so damn good inside of him and it's been too long, far too long, since he's had this. He knows it's been even longer for Spencer though, because he's always thought of the man as straight with just a dash of gay, able to take it up the ass no more than once a year without protesting. His prostate is suddenly hit and he doesn't care which way anyone swings as he moans loudly.
He hears someone chuckle, either Pete or Jon as he knows it can't be himself, and then goes back to kissing Spencer, only to swallow the drummer's cry as Pete hits the same spot inside of Spencer. Spencer and Brendon's foreheads bump as they try so damn hard to kiss each other but it doesn't really matter, not when they're getting fucked into the next century.
Every thrust makes Brendon moan a bit louder, and he finds his hand grasping Spencer's, because he needs something to keep him grounded. Otherwise he knows he'll come too fast, and realises suddenly that Jon is a cruel man as he takes his dick in hand. He seems to be following Pete's movements though, jerking Spencer off, but Brendon doesn't care. He's going to come within seconds of the bassist keeps doing what he's doing.
It's hard to keep himself up as he's rocked into, his prostate being brushed every time. He breaks the kiss to hide his face against Spencer's neck, nipping and sucking but doing his best to simply hide the fact that he's certain he's flushed beyond belief, and maybe even crying from how fucking good this is. He isn't sure, but just knows he can't lift his head.
A sharp tug to his hair makes him though and he can tell it's Jon's hand, especially as Jon whispers into his ear, "I want to see you come." That's all it takes and he shouldn't be that easy, but with a silent cry, Brendon's coming, all over Jon's hand and the floor. He stares at Spencer as he comes, as if in a daze, and seconds later watches Spencer's eyes close tight as he cries out and follows suit. A particularly hard thrust and then no movement lets Brendon know Jon is coming, and the way Pete's trying to catch his breath, he knows the man has too. It makes him a bit sad that he didn't see either of their faces when they came, but he can't care.
It seems like ages until Jon finally pulls out but it's still too soon, and Brendon whines at the empty feeling. He collapses to the ground though and does his best to remember to breathe. A moment later Spencer is next to him, and Brendon curls into the drummer, even if now it's nothing more than on a friendship level. When he looks up he sees Pete and Jon grinning, so amused, and just lets his eyes close again. "You two shouldn't be grinning. You both just cheated."
It shouldn't be something to talk about now, but it slips out. Yet Jon's laughing and Pete follows suit, which makes Brendon roll over to see them. "What?"
"Cassie has interesting kinks. I don't think she'll mind."
Brendon doesn't get it until Pete asks, "Cassie too? Ashlee loves to watch me fuck any guy that moves, I swear. She's still whining about how I should invite Patrick over."
Brendon rolls back over so he's against Spencer and he'll have to remember that for tomorrow. Yet he hears the door open and cocks his head to look up. Ryan's standing in the door frame, hair a mess, clothes unkempt, pink lipstick covering his lips and a bit of his chin. "Hey, Ry," he says cheerfully.
"Fuck," Ryan snaps as he throws up his hands, seemingly fed up. "I'm gone for three fucking hours and you have an orgy without me!?"
Spencer catches it long before Brendon does, it seems, as the youngest male smiles up at Ryan with a devilish look in his eyes. "You're invited next time."
"If you aren't fucking Candy Big Tits," Brendon adds. "Because I don't need to catch herpes, thanks."
Jon and Pete are laughing, and Brendon can't help but laugh too as Ryan storms off to the bedroom, even if he's exhausted.