Sometimes I write stuff!
I'm Google Doc cleaning so have some random drabbles and comment fic type things that are never turning into anything else.
Jon/Girl!Ryan, 900+ words
Jon knows there's no way Ryan was going to agree if he'd brought it up beforehand, but he realizes his mistake when she bucks up so hard at the first lick to her hole that he's honestly a little worried she's broken his nose. Jon says, "Okay, oww," at the same time that Ryan says, "Jon, what the fuck?"
Jon pets at her hips a little, says, "Hold still, Ryan," and gets one arm under her waist and lifts her up a bit, wraps his other arm across her hips to keep her still, and this time she just shakes a little beneath him and lets out a low whine at the touch of his tongue. A few more licks and she's moving her hips against his face, trying to press closer to his mouth, gasping out air in sharp puffs.
When he points his tongue and presses in just a little, just enough for both of them to feel it, Ryan gasps out, "Oh, fuck!" and winds a hand into his hair, cupping the back of his skull, pressing him closer. He grins against her and she must be able to feel it because she tightens her fingers in his hair, gives a sharp tug, and mutters, "Shut up, dick."
Jon can't help it, he grins again without thinking and she yanks on his hair again, a sharp little burst of pain, making his tongue slip out of her, making him gasp. Fair's fair, though, and the noise she makes when he nips at the the soft skin between her ass and her thigh is more than enough payback. He groans, dips his head back down to lick over her, into her, and he has her moving restlessly against his face again soon enough. Jon has both of his arms wrapped around her, his nose pretty much just pressed into her cunt, and he has to push against her hands in his hair when he tries to pull away.
"Ryan, c'mon, touch yourself," he says, and almost loses it at the distracted, "Oh! Right," he gets in response. It's one of his favorite things about Ryan, how easily she gets lost in things. Music, sex, her own head; whatever happens to be occupying her mind until he snaps her out of it, draws her back to the present, back with him. He waits until she's got one hand moving over her clit to drop back down, circle around her opening with his tongue before pressing back inside.
It feels different now, the way her muscles are fluttering in time with her fingers making her tighten around his tongue. He can feel her getting even wetter against his nose and his cheeks, feel the soft skin twitching, feel her thighs trembling against the side of his head. He presses his tongue deep, licks into her, and her whole body is tensing up now, strung up tight and shaky in anticipation. He presses his own hips more firmly into the mattress, grinds down, changes angles a little and his teeth skim against her where she's stretched around his tongue. It's an accident, but apparently a happy one, because she's bucking up against his face, tightening the hand that's found it's way back to his hair, crying out as she comes. Jon pulls back, pulls away, slides his arm out from under her and pushes at her hand until she uncurls her fingers and lets go of his head.
"Sorry," Ryan says, her voice gritty and her eyes closed tight. Jon takes the opportunity to swipe at his face with the sheets, clean up a little before he crawls back up her body, settles in beside her.
"You okay?" he asks, petting at her sides, her hip, her thigh. Ryan likes to be touched after, to be grounded and centered and calmed down, and she curls up tight against his side, nods into the hollow of his shoulder.
She's going to fall asleep, she always falls asleep, but she makes an effort, grabs his hand and presses it between her legs, gets it wet, mumbles, "Okay, you go," into his neck.
Jon snorts out a laugh, but he's hard, he's been hard, and he hisses out a breath when he wraps his hand around his cock, starts up a familiar rhythm to get himself where he needs to go. Ryan's eyes are open when he looks down, but just barely, the urge to sleep fighting with the urge to watch. She loves to watch, though, and it must win out because she shifts against his side, sits up a little until she can reach down and stroke over his belly, his thigh, tangle her fingers with his for a few strokes before reaching down and stroking behind his balls. Her fingers are light, barely touching, just ghosting over the sensitive skin. It's more of a tease than anything until her fingers press down hard and sudden, making him jerk up into his hand. She trails them lower then, just pressing against his entrance, and he lets out a kind of embarrassing groan, pitched low and ugly as he comes over his hand.
When he gets his eyes open again she's grinning down at him, looking sleepy and sated and entirely too pleased with herself. He rolls his eyes at her and tugs her back down against his body. "Payback," she says, settling into his side with a yawn, and Jon's way too tired to do anything but agree.
Jon/Brendon, 1,400+ words
Written with fallintosilence who writes the fic of my heart on a daily basis because she's kind of unspeakably awesome!
The phone is fucking loud. It's loud and it's directly in Jon's ear and he drops the stupid receiver when he picks it up the first time because Brendon is pinning his arm to the bed and he has to twist around kind of painfully with his free hand to grab it. "Yep, thank you, totally awake!" Jon tells the entirely too chipper sounding desk clerk before settling back down into the bed.
The bed is warm, and comfortable, and Brendon is nestled up against his front, his ass pressing into Jon's half hard cock. He's fine right where he is, thank you very much. Jon was pretty sure Brendon had somehow managed to sleep through the phone, but he makes agrumbly, sleepy noise when Jon presses his nose into the back of Brendon's neck, settles his hand low on Brendon's belly.
"Morning," Jon says into Brendon's neck, and he grins against the warm skin under his mouth when Brendon shivers a little and presses back into Jon. The back of Brendon's neck is ticklish, and Jon doesn't feel even a little bit bad about taking advantage, pressing kisses there and tightening his arm around Brendon's waist.
Brendon is sleep warm and familiar in front of him, smelling like sweat and hotel soap, and Jon has to resist the urge to rock forward where he's pressed against Brendon's ass. He's still sleepy enough that it seems like a good idea; he could stay in bed all day with Brendon right there, get them both off again before they went back to sleep. Jon's idly contemplating how long it would take Zack to break down a door when Brendon shifts in his arms, reaching up for the nightstand and grabbing his glasses, sliding them on above his nose before he yawns, stretching so his toes brush against Jon's and Jon's hand bumps into Brendon's half-hard cock.
Brendon makes a noise low in his throat at the contact, equal parts sleepy and intrigued. He settles back in against Jon's body, his cock hardening a little under Jon's hand, and it's early and he's still half asleep but he's not stupid. "Yeah?" Jon whispers against Brendon's neck. His voice is rough, gravely with sleep, and Brendon just nods, huffs out a breath and tries to wiggle closer to Jon even though there's no room left. It just makes Jon groan, makes his hips jerk forward a bit, his cock nudging against Brendon's ass.
Brendon lets out a strained little groan at the contact, tightens the hand he has wrapped around Jon's forearm. "Sore," he says at the same time he pushes back into it.
Jon snorts quietly and rolls his eyes, drops a kiss on Brendon's neck. "Hey, hey, we don't have to," he says, and it takes more effort than he'd like to admit to pull back, shift so his cock is pressing at the small of Brendon's back instead. Brendon doesn't stop pressing back, though, just makes a content noise and starts this lazy rhythm of arching forward into the circle of Jon's fist, loose around Brendon's cock, before settling back again so that Jon's cock slides over the soft skin of his back.
Brendon's back is slick with sweat from sleeping so close together, and everything is hot and wet and Jon thinks fuzzily that he could probably get off like this, just from this, spooned up with Brendon's neck under his mouth. Brendon's breathing is getting a little heavier, his groans still soft like he's still half-asleep and Jon hooks his chin over Brendon's shoulder, so he can see Brendon's cock sliding through his hand, the tip already a little shiny, wet from pre-come.
Brendon angles his head back so his cheek presses against Jon's, warm and a little flushed, his lips parted while his hips strain up into Jon's fist. Jon squeezes, just a little, just enough to get Brendon to let out a low groan that reminds him of last night, of Brendon arching underneath him. The thought goes straight to Jon's cock, makes him focus on the tension that's already building low in his stomach, as he presses into Brendon's back, his cock sliding while he jerks Brendon off.
Brendon's arching up into Jon's grip, his hand making wet noises now, as Brendon's breathing gets louder, more aware, and Jon presses quick kisses to Brendon's neck, right behind his ear, tasting sweat and listening to the noises that rumble up out of Brendon's throat. "You close?" Jon asks, his breath brushing over Brendon's ear, and Brendon nods, his glasses knocking into Jon's cheek a little with the movement.
"Yeah, yeah," Brendon breathes, his voice just barely lifting into a whine at the end, the way it always does when he's about to come. Jon grins, squeezes his fist tighter, and Brendon's breath catches on a groan. Jon strains his neck to watch as Brendon's hips stutter forward, his fingers digging painfully into Jon's forearm as he bucks forward into Jon's fist and comes over Jon's hand.
Jon jerks Brendon through it, keeps going until his quick gasps for air turn into whimpers, like it's too much. He's suddenly glaringly aware of his own cock, how close he is, and Jon presses his sticky palm over the soft skin of Brendon's belly and buries his face in the back of Brendon's neck. Brendon shifts into the press of Jon's hand, strokes over Jon's arm and works his hips back in slow, lazy circles that drag against Jon's cock.
"C'mon," Brendon says, voice strained, his toes digging into Jon's calves as he presses his body back as close he can. Jon's so close that his brain has gone fuzzy, mindlessly pressing forward into Brendon's skin, and he grunts as his hips jerk forward and he comes sudden and hard over Brendon's lower back, his hipbones pressing into the curve of Brendon's ass.
Jon can't bring himself to move, doesn't want to pull away from Brendon even though they were already late and now they both have to shower. Jon settles for kissing the salty skin of Brendon's shoulder before lifting his head up, leaning over to awkwardly press a kiss to the corner of Brendon's mouth that he can reach. He can feel Brendon smile under his mouth, glasses bumping into Jon's nose as he shifts further down into the pillow.
Jon was hoping that Brendon was up for being the bad guy this morning, but he doesn't seem especially eager to go anywhere either, fingers trailing slow and lazy over Jon's arm, making happy, sleepy noises every now and then. Their phones start ringing almost simultaneously and Jon groans into the back of Brendon's neck, reaching to answer his phone so he doesn't have to lose the warmth of Brendon in front of him.
"Totally awake," Jon says into the phone without even looking the ID. Zack doesn't agree, and he doesn't agree so loudly that Brendon is laughing into his pillow before Jon finally hangs up with a "Twenty minutes, I promise, I promise, just gotta shower." He tosses his phone across the room to land on his suitcase before promptly curling back around Brendon's body and mumbling pathetically into his shoulder, "Don't make me get up."
Brendon heaves a sigh and tilts his head to the side to give Jon more room to nuzzle in. "You know I'm normally on your side," he says, voice catching a little when Jon nips at the corded muscle in his neck, "But we don't get another hotel night for almost a week and we're both covered in jizz."
It's a fair point, but, "Covered in jizz and comfortable," Jon tries plaintively. "Comfortably covered in jizz." Brendon laughs, bright and loud, and turns around in Jon's arms, pressing a quick kiss to his lips.
"I don't think you're allowed to say jizz again for a while," Brendon says when he pulls back. His hair is a mess and his lips are swollen and his glasses are knocked kind of sideways on his face and Jon thinks it would be totally, totally worth it when Zack killed him if he got ten more minutes of this.
"Do you think you can shower in three minutes?" Jon asks, falling forward to rest his head against Brendon's chest. "I think you could. I have faith in you."
Brendon laughs as he runs his fingers through Jon's hair, scratching at his scalp a little. "If you get off your ass right now, though, I'd have time to shower and blow you," Brendon says.
"That," Jon says, "is an excellent point."
Brendon/Spencer, 1,000+ words
They have this massive, combined drum kit at Brendon's place, a result of fucking around with how many pieces they can realistically play on. That's all well and good for a while, right up until Brendon wakes up alone in bed, wanders downstairs and stands back to watch Spencer just fucking pound on the kit for all he's worth, hair flying and sweat dripping down his forehead. When Spencer finishes up he turns to Brendon, bright eyes and huge smile, but Brendon's face must give him away because Spencer's eyes darken almost immediately and he swallows thickly before saying, "C'mere."
Spencer doesn't actually wait for Brendon to get there, he stands up and shucks off his boxers, and pulls Brendon's briefs and sweatpants down just as soon as Brendon is in reach. Spencer grabs his hips and pulls him down, the stool wobbling a little beneath them as they settle in. Brendon gasps a bit when his cock brushes up against Spencer's, groans out against Spencer's temple when he grinds down for more friction.
"You're kind of ridiculous," Spencer grits out in his ear, snapping his hips up and kissing at Brendon's neck.
"Says the guy who's hard over a drum kit," Brendon replies, reaching between their bodies to get his hand on Spencer's cock.
"Says the guy who, fuck, who's hard over watching me play said drum kit," Spencer says raggedly.
Brendon grins, because fair enough, and keeps twisting his hand over Spencer's cock, getting him fully hard, getting him wet. They've been doing this long enough that Spencer knows his moves, knows what he wants, and Brendon gasps when Spencer slides his hands back to Brendon's ass, holds him open and brushes over his hole.
"You still wet from before?" Spencer asks, voice rough and low in Brendon's ear.
Brendon nods, then winces a little when Spencer goes in immediately with two fingers. "Maybe just a little more," Brendon amends, and rolls his eyes when Spencer laughs at him and spits onto his hand. It's easier this time, and Brendon goes for Spencer's cock soon enough, holds Spencer still while he sinks down.
"Fuck," Spencer breathes out into Brendon's ear, ruffling his hair a little. Spencer's hands are heavy on Brendon's hips, not pushing, just holding him steady, letting him adjust.
"No kidding," Brendon says, shifting his hips a little, feeling Spencer drag inside of him. Spencer readjusts on the stool, thrusts up just a little, just enough to make Brendon gasp and dig his hands into Spencer's shoulders.
"Fuck, Spence," he says, and it turns into a moan at the end but Brendon doesn't even care.
"You good?" Spencer asks. His voice is tight and Brendon can feel the tension in his shoulders, can feel Spencer trying to hold back.
"Yeah, yeah," he says breathlessly, rocking down a little right as Spencer snaps his hips up, hard. Brendon closes his eyes and threads his hands into Spencer's hair as they work out a rhythm, Spencer thrusting up as Brendon rocks down.
They settle into something dirty and slow, and Brendon throws his head back as Spencer drags slowly inside of him. His cock is pressed up against Spencer's stomach but he keeps arching, keeps trying to press Spencer deeper, bending back until he can feel the sharp bite of a cymbal digging into one of his shoulders.
Brendon squeezes reflexively around Spencer and Spencer bucks forward, pressing Brendon back, forcing a sudden sharp noise from the cymbal that has them both laughing. "Watch my fucking drums, Urie," Spencer says, smiling big and wide and right in Brendon's face.
"Some of those are my drums, assface," Brendon replies, settling his hands back onto Spencer's shoulders and leaning forward. He presses himself tight against Spencer's chest and the angle changes, Spencer hitting his prostate head on, making Brendon pant and squirm in his arms.
He's close, but his cock is trapped between their bodies and it's not enough friction. "Spence," he says, "Spence, c'mon, please," and Spencer is good at this, Spencer always knows what he wants, what he's asking for.
Spencer shifts him backward just a little, just enough that he can get his hand between them, wrapping it tight and perfect around Brendon's cock. Brendon hisses out a little noise when Spencer starts stroking in time with his thrusts and drops his head down to Spencer's shoulder so he can watch Spencer's hand work over his cock.
Brendon's so close now, his muscles twitching, tightening around Spencer, making Spencer lose his rhythm until he starts squeezing his hand around Brendon mindlessly, running his hand up and down Brendon's cock. Brendon recognizes the motion, it's the same one Spencer uses on his sticks in between twirling them before a show, a nervous habit he's had since they were kids. Brendon grins a little to himself and comes suddenly, tumbling right over the edge without realizing he was there.
Spencer's hips arch up helplessly as Brendon clenches around him, and he gasps against Brendon's cheek before catching Brendon's mouth and kissing him wet and deep. It only takes a few more thrusts before Spencer's coming, biting down on Brendon's bottom lip as he shakes through it.
They stay there for a few minutes, gasping against each other while they come down. Spencer shifts Brendon off of his lap slowly, bending down to grab Brendon's underwear and sweatpants off the ground. "Don't get come on my drums," he says, swatting lightly at Brendon's thigh.
"They're my drums too, motherfucker," Brendon grumbles, pulling his clothes on slowly.
"Oh, are you pissed because I got to play first?" Spencer asks. Brendon makes a face at him because Spencer's standing there naked, Brendon's come all over his stomach, but there's no one telling him to be careful. "Because it seemed like you were pretty into it earlier."
Spencer's grinning, baiting him, and Brendon's kind of easy when it comes to Spencer so he gives in, grins, says, "I thought we established I was hot for the drums, not you."
Jon/Girl!Ryan, 900+ words
Jon knows there's no way Ryan was going to agree if he'd brought it up beforehand, but he realizes his mistake when she bucks up so hard at the first lick to her hole that he's honestly a little worried she's broken his nose. Jon says, "Okay, oww," at the same time that Ryan says, "Jon, what the fuck?"
Jon pets at her hips a little, says, "Hold still, Ryan," and gets one arm under her waist and lifts her up a bit, wraps his other arm across her hips to keep her still, and this time she just shakes a little beneath him and lets out a low whine at the touch of his tongue. A few more licks and she's moving her hips against his face, trying to press closer to his mouth, gasping out air in sharp puffs.
When he points his tongue and presses in just a little, just enough for both of them to feel it, Ryan gasps out, "Oh, fuck!" and winds a hand into his hair, cupping the back of his skull, pressing him closer. He grins against her and she must be able to feel it because she tightens her fingers in his hair, gives a sharp tug, and mutters, "Shut up, dick."
Jon can't help it, he grins again without thinking and she yanks on his hair again, a sharp little burst of pain, making his tongue slip out of her, making him gasp. Fair's fair, though, and the noise she makes when he nips at the the soft skin between her ass and her thigh is more than enough payback. He groans, dips his head back down to lick over her, into her, and he has her moving restlessly against his face again soon enough. Jon has both of his arms wrapped around her, his nose pretty much just pressed into her cunt, and he has to push against her hands in his hair when he tries to pull away.
"Ryan, c'mon, touch yourself," he says, and almost loses it at the distracted, "Oh! Right," he gets in response. It's one of his favorite things about Ryan, how easily she gets lost in things. Music, sex, her own head; whatever happens to be occupying her mind until he snaps her out of it, draws her back to the present, back with him. He waits until she's got one hand moving over her clit to drop back down, circle around her opening with his tongue before pressing back inside.
It feels different now, the way her muscles are fluttering in time with her fingers making her tighten around his tongue. He can feel her getting even wetter against his nose and his cheeks, feel the soft skin twitching, feel her thighs trembling against the side of his head. He presses his tongue deep, licks into her, and her whole body is tensing up now, strung up tight and shaky in anticipation. He presses his own hips more firmly into the mattress, grinds down, changes angles a little and his teeth skim against her where she's stretched around his tongue. It's an accident, but apparently a happy one, because she's bucking up against his face, tightening the hand that's found it's way back to his hair, crying out as she comes. Jon pulls back, pulls away, slides his arm out from under her and pushes at her hand until she uncurls her fingers and lets go of his head.
"Sorry," Ryan says, her voice gritty and her eyes closed tight. Jon takes the opportunity to swipe at his face with the sheets, clean up a little before he crawls back up her body, settles in beside her.
"You okay?" he asks, petting at her sides, her hip, her thigh. Ryan likes to be touched after, to be grounded and centered and calmed down, and she curls up tight against his side, nods into the hollow of his shoulder.
She's going to fall asleep, she always falls asleep, but she makes an effort, grabs his hand and presses it between her legs, gets it wet, mumbles, "Okay, you go," into his neck.
Jon snorts out a laugh, but he's hard, he's been hard, and he hisses out a breath when he wraps his hand around his cock, starts up a familiar rhythm to get himself where he needs to go. Ryan's eyes are open when he looks down, but just barely, the urge to sleep fighting with the urge to watch. She loves to watch, though, and it must win out because she shifts against his side, sits up a little until she can reach down and stroke over his belly, his thigh, tangle her fingers with his for a few strokes before reaching down and stroking behind his balls. Her fingers are light, barely touching, just ghosting over the sensitive skin. It's more of a tease than anything until her fingers press down hard and sudden, making him jerk up into his hand. She trails them lower then, just pressing against his entrance, and he lets out a kind of embarrassing groan, pitched low and ugly as he comes over his hand.
When he gets his eyes open again she's grinning down at him, looking sleepy and sated and entirely too pleased with herself. He rolls his eyes at her and tugs her back down against his body. "Payback," she says, settling into his side with a yawn, and Jon's way too tired to do anything but agree.
Jon/Brendon, 1,400+ words
Written with fallintosilence who writes the fic of my heart on a daily basis because she's kind of unspeakably awesome!
The phone is fucking loud. It's loud and it's directly in Jon's ear and he drops the stupid receiver when he picks it up the first time because Brendon is pinning his arm to the bed and he has to twist around kind of painfully with his free hand to grab it. "Yep, thank you, totally awake!" Jon tells the entirely too chipper sounding desk clerk before settling back down into the bed.
The bed is warm, and comfortable, and Brendon is nestled up against his front, his ass pressing into Jon's half hard cock. He's fine right where he is, thank you very much. Jon was pretty sure Brendon had somehow managed to sleep through the phone, but he makes agrumbly, sleepy noise when Jon presses his nose into the back of Brendon's neck, settles his hand low on Brendon's belly.
"Morning," Jon says into Brendon's neck, and he grins against the warm skin under his mouth when Brendon shivers a little and presses back into Jon. The back of Brendon's neck is ticklish, and Jon doesn't feel even a little bit bad about taking advantage, pressing kisses there and tightening his arm around Brendon's waist.
Brendon is sleep warm and familiar in front of him, smelling like sweat and hotel soap, and Jon has to resist the urge to rock forward where he's pressed against Brendon's ass. He's still sleepy enough that it seems like a good idea; he could stay in bed all day with Brendon right there, get them both off again before they went back to sleep. Jon's idly contemplating how long it would take Zack to break down a door when Brendon shifts in his arms, reaching up for the nightstand and grabbing his glasses, sliding them on above his nose before he yawns, stretching so his toes brush against Jon's and Jon's hand bumps into Brendon's half-hard cock.
Brendon makes a noise low in his throat at the contact, equal parts sleepy and intrigued. He settles back in against Jon's body, his cock hardening a little under Jon's hand, and it's early and he's still half asleep but he's not stupid. "Yeah?" Jon whispers against Brendon's neck. His voice is rough, gravely with sleep, and Brendon just nods, huffs out a breath and tries to wiggle closer to Jon even though there's no room left. It just makes Jon groan, makes his hips jerk forward a bit, his cock nudging against Brendon's ass.
Brendon lets out a strained little groan at the contact, tightens the hand he has wrapped around Jon's forearm. "Sore," he says at the same time he pushes back into it.
Jon snorts quietly and rolls his eyes, drops a kiss on Brendon's neck. "Hey, hey, we don't have to," he says, and it takes more effort than he'd like to admit to pull back, shift so his cock is pressing at the small of Brendon's back instead. Brendon doesn't stop pressing back, though, just makes a content noise and starts this lazy rhythm of arching forward into the circle of Jon's fist, loose around Brendon's cock, before settling back again so that Jon's cock slides over the soft skin of his back.
Brendon's back is slick with sweat from sleeping so close together, and everything is hot and wet and Jon thinks fuzzily that he could probably get off like this, just from this, spooned up with Brendon's neck under his mouth. Brendon's breathing is getting a little heavier, his groans still soft like he's still half-asleep and Jon hooks his chin over Brendon's shoulder, so he can see Brendon's cock sliding through his hand, the tip already a little shiny, wet from pre-come.
Brendon angles his head back so his cheek presses against Jon's, warm and a little flushed, his lips parted while his hips strain up into Jon's fist. Jon squeezes, just a little, just enough to get Brendon to let out a low groan that reminds him of last night, of Brendon arching underneath him. The thought goes straight to Jon's cock, makes him focus on the tension that's already building low in his stomach, as he presses into Brendon's back, his cock sliding while he jerks Brendon off.
Brendon's arching up into Jon's grip, his hand making wet noises now, as Brendon's breathing gets louder, more aware, and Jon presses quick kisses to Brendon's neck, right behind his ear, tasting sweat and listening to the noises that rumble up out of Brendon's throat. "You close?" Jon asks, his breath brushing over Brendon's ear, and Brendon nods, his glasses knocking into Jon's cheek a little with the movement.
"Yeah, yeah," Brendon breathes, his voice just barely lifting into a whine at the end, the way it always does when he's about to come. Jon grins, squeezes his fist tighter, and Brendon's breath catches on a groan. Jon strains his neck to watch as Brendon's hips stutter forward, his fingers digging painfully into Jon's forearm as he bucks forward into Jon's fist and comes over Jon's hand.
Jon jerks Brendon through it, keeps going until his quick gasps for air turn into whimpers, like it's too much. He's suddenly glaringly aware of his own cock, how close he is, and Jon presses his sticky palm over the soft skin of Brendon's belly and buries his face in the back of Brendon's neck. Brendon shifts into the press of Jon's hand, strokes over Jon's arm and works his hips back in slow, lazy circles that drag against Jon's cock.
"C'mon," Brendon says, voice strained, his toes digging into Jon's calves as he presses his body back as close he can. Jon's so close that his brain has gone fuzzy, mindlessly pressing forward into Brendon's skin, and he grunts as his hips jerk forward and he comes sudden and hard over Brendon's lower back, his hipbones pressing into the curve of Brendon's ass.
Jon can't bring himself to move, doesn't want to pull away from Brendon even though they were already late and now they both have to shower. Jon settles for kissing the salty skin of Brendon's shoulder before lifting his head up, leaning over to awkwardly press a kiss to the corner of Brendon's mouth that he can reach. He can feel Brendon smile under his mouth, glasses bumping into Jon's nose as he shifts further down into the pillow.
Jon was hoping that Brendon was up for being the bad guy this morning, but he doesn't seem especially eager to go anywhere either, fingers trailing slow and lazy over Jon's arm, making happy, sleepy noises every now and then. Their phones start ringing almost simultaneously and Jon groans into the back of Brendon's neck, reaching to answer his phone so he doesn't have to lose the warmth of Brendon in front of him.
"Totally awake," Jon says into the phone without even looking the ID. Zack doesn't agree, and he doesn't agree so loudly that Brendon is laughing into his pillow before Jon finally hangs up with a "Twenty minutes, I promise, I promise, just gotta shower." He tosses his phone across the room to land on his suitcase before promptly curling back around Brendon's body and mumbling pathetically into his shoulder, "Don't make me get up."
Brendon heaves a sigh and tilts his head to the side to give Jon more room to nuzzle in. "You know I'm normally on your side," he says, voice catching a little when Jon nips at the corded muscle in his neck, "But we don't get another hotel night for almost a week and we're both covered in jizz."
It's a fair point, but, "Covered in jizz and comfortable," Jon tries plaintively. "Comfortably covered in jizz." Brendon laughs, bright and loud, and turns around in Jon's arms, pressing a quick kiss to his lips.
"I don't think you're allowed to say jizz again for a while," Brendon says when he pulls back. His hair is a mess and his lips are swollen and his glasses are knocked kind of sideways on his face and Jon thinks it would be totally, totally worth it when Zack killed him if he got ten more minutes of this.
"Do you think you can shower in three minutes?" Jon asks, falling forward to rest his head against Brendon's chest. "I think you could. I have faith in you."
Brendon laughs as he runs his fingers through Jon's hair, scratching at his scalp a little. "If you get off your ass right now, though, I'd have time to shower and blow you," Brendon says.
"That," Jon says, "is an excellent point."
Brendon/Spencer, 1,000+ words
They have this massive, combined drum kit at Brendon's place, a result of fucking around with how many pieces they can realistically play on. That's all well and good for a while, right up until Brendon wakes up alone in bed, wanders downstairs and stands back to watch Spencer just fucking pound on the kit for all he's worth, hair flying and sweat dripping down his forehead. When Spencer finishes up he turns to Brendon, bright eyes and huge smile, but Brendon's face must give him away because Spencer's eyes darken almost immediately and he swallows thickly before saying, "C'mere."
Spencer doesn't actually wait for Brendon to get there, he stands up and shucks off his boxers, and pulls Brendon's briefs and sweatpants down just as soon as Brendon is in reach. Spencer grabs his hips and pulls him down, the stool wobbling a little beneath them as they settle in. Brendon gasps a bit when his cock brushes up against Spencer's, groans out against Spencer's temple when he grinds down for more friction.
"You're kind of ridiculous," Spencer grits out in his ear, snapping his hips up and kissing at Brendon's neck.
"Says the guy who's hard over a drum kit," Brendon replies, reaching between their bodies to get his hand on Spencer's cock.
"Says the guy who, fuck, who's hard over watching me play said drum kit," Spencer says raggedly.
Brendon grins, because fair enough, and keeps twisting his hand over Spencer's cock, getting him fully hard, getting him wet. They've been doing this long enough that Spencer knows his moves, knows what he wants, and Brendon gasps when Spencer slides his hands back to Brendon's ass, holds him open and brushes over his hole.
"You still wet from before?" Spencer asks, voice rough and low in Brendon's ear.
Brendon nods, then winces a little when Spencer goes in immediately with two fingers. "Maybe just a little more," Brendon amends, and rolls his eyes when Spencer laughs at him and spits onto his hand. It's easier this time, and Brendon goes for Spencer's cock soon enough, holds Spencer still while he sinks down.
"Fuck," Spencer breathes out into Brendon's ear, ruffling his hair a little. Spencer's hands are heavy on Brendon's hips, not pushing, just holding him steady, letting him adjust.
"No kidding," Brendon says, shifting his hips a little, feeling Spencer drag inside of him. Spencer readjusts on the stool, thrusts up just a little, just enough to make Brendon gasp and dig his hands into Spencer's shoulders.
"Fuck, Spence," he says, and it turns into a moan at the end but Brendon doesn't even care.
"You good?" Spencer asks. His voice is tight and Brendon can feel the tension in his shoulders, can feel Spencer trying to hold back.
"Yeah, yeah," he says breathlessly, rocking down a little right as Spencer snaps his hips up, hard. Brendon closes his eyes and threads his hands into Spencer's hair as they work out a rhythm, Spencer thrusting up as Brendon rocks down.
They settle into something dirty and slow, and Brendon throws his head back as Spencer drags slowly inside of him. His cock is pressed up against Spencer's stomach but he keeps arching, keeps trying to press Spencer deeper, bending back until he can feel the sharp bite of a cymbal digging into one of his shoulders.
Brendon squeezes reflexively around Spencer and Spencer bucks forward, pressing Brendon back, forcing a sudden sharp noise from the cymbal that has them both laughing. "Watch my fucking drums, Urie," Spencer says, smiling big and wide and right in Brendon's face.
"Some of those are my drums, assface," Brendon replies, settling his hands back onto Spencer's shoulders and leaning forward. He presses himself tight against Spencer's chest and the angle changes, Spencer hitting his prostate head on, making Brendon pant and squirm in his arms.
He's close, but his cock is trapped between their bodies and it's not enough friction. "Spence," he says, "Spence, c'mon, please," and Spencer is good at this, Spencer always knows what he wants, what he's asking for.
Spencer shifts him backward just a little, just enough that he can get his hand between them, wrapping it tight and perfect around Brendon's cock. Brendon hisses out a little noise when Spencer starts stroking in time with his thrusts and drops his head down to Spencer's shoulder so he can watch Spencer's hand work over his cock.
Brendon's so close now, his muscles twitching, tightening around Spencer, making Spencer lose his rhythm until he starts squeezing his hand around Brendon mindlessly, running his hand up and down Brendon's cock. Brendon recognizes the motion, it's the same one Spencer uses on his sticks in between twirling them before a show, a nervous habit he's had since they were kids. Brendon grins a little to himself and comes suddenly, tumbling right over the edge without realizing he was there.
Spencer's hips arch up helplessly as Brendon clenches around him, and he gasps against Brendon's cheek before catching Brendon's mouth and kissing him wet and deep. It only takes a few more thrusts before Spencer's coming, biting down on Brendon's bottom lip as he shakes through it.
They stay there for a few minutes, gasping against each other while they come down. Spencer shifts Brendon off of his lap slowly, bending down to grab Brendon's underwear and sweatpants off the ground. "Don't get come on my drums," he says, swatting lightly at Brendon's thigh.
"They're my drums too, motherfucker," Brendon grumbles, pulling his clothes on slowly.
"Oh, are you pissed because I got to play first?" Spencer asks. Brendon makes a face at him because Spencer's standing there naked, Brendon's come all over his stomach, but there's no one telling him to be careful. "Because it seemed like you were pretty into it earlier."
Spencer's grinning, baiting him, and Brendon's kind of easy when it comes to Spencer so he gives in, grins, says, "I thought we established I was hot for the drums, not you."