Brendon/Shane porn.

[disarm_d]

A while ago, Jen sent me an email that said this, and then we emailed back and forth, and I tried to write something for her, but it totally didn't end up being what she wanted to read, so I don't even get to blame her for this. I started this a long while ago, but I figured I may as well actually write the porn and be done with it.

THIS STORY IS REALLY FUCKING STUPID. It's just for fun! It's not even a story, really. There were some emails and then me dicking around and spamming Jen with snippets, and then tucking in to actually write some porn. Yes. This is stupid and just for fun and also stupid. Porn without any motherfucking plot.

I bet you're really excited to read it now. \o/

Warnings for a crack premise and then kink. Probably that's not a great combination right there, but what can you do?

Brendon/Shane | ~ 4500 words | NC-17 for sex and kink. | For airgiodslv



"And..." Brendon continues, and Shane thinks he might actually be able to hear the sound of Brendon's brains wracking. "I will be the sole supplier of all beer, drugs, and other controlled substances. Six months." Shane stays silent, and Brendon finally exhales. "A year, fine. Will you do it? Shane, you have to do it. And-- Blowjobs! I will give you so many blowjobs!"

"Done," Shane agrees, because he's a good boyfriend. "When's this thing again?"

--

Shane had said, "If I do this, we're actually doing this," and Brendon had nodded, which is why Shane totally doesn't feel guilty telling Brendon, "Make me coffee."

Fucking bidding in a fucking auction for fucking bachelors-- when Brendon isn't even a bachelor-- and fucking Brendon making Shane bid for his own fucking boyfriend just because he's afraid of fangirls . Neither of them want to go public with their relationship, and Shane probably looked like a total creeper bidding on his 'roommate.' Now he's got an official-like scroll informing him that he has won Brendon's service for forty-eight hours, and a tax receipt because the money went to charity.

Brendon brings him a cup of coffee, after disappearing into the kitchen for only a moment. Shane looks at the cup, dubiously.

"Is this from this morning?" he asks.

"Yup," Brendon says.

Shane holds the cup out. "Make me a cup of coffee," he repeats.

He's half expecting that Brendon is going to refuse to take the cup back and tell him just to drink that one; usually they'd both rather drink day-old coffee than make a new pot.

Brendon does take the cup back though, and when he walks back in the kitchen, Shane can hear the whir of him grinding up coffee beans.

Shane grabs the remote and flips randomly as he waits for coffee. It's the middle of the afternoon and there's nothing on, so he just leaves it on MTV, muting some shitty reality show.

Brendon carries in another mug of coffee.

"Thanks, man," Shane says, taking it from him.

"Your wish is my command," Brendon quips.

"In that case," Shane says after he swallows a sip of coffee, "this needs more milk."

He's just ribbing Brendon now, but Brendon takes the cup and walks back to the kitchen. When he brings it back, it's filled all the way to the brim, nearly spilling over the edge, and it's a pale, pale brown.

"Dude," Shane says. "Too much milk."

He keeps expecting Brendon to just roll his eyes. Brendon's good at going along with teasing, but just to a point. But, Brendon says, "I can get you a new cup," in a voice that's -- well, he sounds a little annoyed, but it's not dripping with sarcasm.

"If there's more," Shane says. He grins to himself, because even though this whole thing was mostly just annoying -- and expensive! Tiny women kept trying to outbid him! He was using Brendon's credit card number, but still. It's the principle of the matter. -- bossing Brendon around is pretty hilarious. Shane feels justified in pushing until Brendon puts a stop to it. Brendon'll push and push most mornings for Shane to make him breakfast in bed, so turning the tables feels like good fun.

Brendon brings him a new cup, and this one is a lovely shade of brown, but when Shane takes a sip, "It's cold," he says, holding up the cup again. "Put it in the microwave for sixteen seconds."

And Brendon does.

Shane's surprised when Brendon brings the cup back, but he's even more surprised to see the hard line of Brendon's cock in his skinny jeans when he stands in front of Shane and passes the cup back.

It's probably not anything.

Brendon is often hard; they are often hard around each other, and since they're fucking anyway they don't try to hide it. Maybe it doesn't mean anything. Maybe it's just incidental.

"Thank you for the coffee," Shane says.

Brendon nods his head.

"I would also like a sandwich," Shane tells Brendon, eyeing him over the rim of the mug.

Brendon nods again, and walks back to the kitchen, and he comes back with a sandwich on a plate-- peanut butter and jelly from the looks of it.

"If you could just-- Yeah, if you could just hold that for me," Shane says when Brendon carries it over. "Yeah, right there." Brendon holds the plate, his hands open and palms facing up, kneeling on the floor in front of Shane.

Shane picks up half the sandwich -- Brendon even remembered to cut it diagonally -- and takes a few bites. He isn't actually that hungry.

He holds the rest of it out, right in front of Brendon. Brendon glances up, then opens his mouth and takes a bite, and then another one when Shane continues to hold the sandwich in front of his mouth.

Shane has peanut butter on his finger, and while Brendon chews, Shane sets the rest of the sandwich down.

He holds out his hand this time, holds his fingers in front of Brendon's mouth and says, "Clean," and Brendon opens his mouth and starts licking off Shane's fingers.

It's ridiculously hot, just like it always is when Brendon does anything with his mouth, but it's also hot in this whole new way because Brendon's licking methodically, running his tongue up and down one finger before moving on to the next. Brendon licks Shane's palm, too, until his whole hand is wet with saliva.

Brendon finishes. Shane's hand is sticky and wet and he reaches out to rub his spit-slick hand over Brendon's cheek to dry it off, and by the time he's done, Brendon's breathing shallowly, and his mouth is open a little bit, and he's got that wide-eyed desperate look that Shane has only seen a handful of times before.

"You can put the plate away," Shane says, gesturing toward the coffee table with the tilt of his head.

Brendon sets the plate down.

"There's nothing on TV," Shane says. "Can you put a DVD in please?"

Brendon puts his hand on his thigh as he starts to pushing himself up, but he stops when Shane says, "I didn't say to stand."

Brendon crawls over to the TV.

Shane is-- he's not surprised, not now, but if someone had told him yesterday that Brendon would willingly crawl somewhere because Shane asked, Shane doesn't know that he would have believed them.

"What do you want to watch?" Brendon asks when he's in front of their entertainment system.

"Just whatever's on there," Shane says. He can see a case resting on top of the DVD player.

Brendon sets up the DVD, and then he shuffles backward until he's out of the line of the screen and he sits back on his heels and waits.

Shane counts backwards from five, making himself take a slow breath with each number. It works, because when he says, "There are M&Ms in the cupboard. Please go get them for me," his voice sounds reasonably normal. Something approximating calm.

Brendon looks over at him, like he's waiting for some kind of direction. Shane doesn't know what he's waiting for, so he sits quietly, waiting for Brendon to actually ask. Brendon must take something in that as an answer though, because he exhales slowly and starts crawling over to the kitchen.

Shane thinks, Oh. Brendon was waiting for Shane to tell him if he can walk.

Shane looks up at the ceiling and tries to convince his dick that he can in fact wait a little longer before he throws himself onto the ground and -- fucking, anything. Anything that involves contact with his dick and Brendon's body sounds fucking ace right now. He can wait though, see how this plays out.

He thinks it's funny that it took something like a fucking charity auction to bring this out between him and Brendon, and then he thinks that maybe it wasn't such a coincidence. Maybe this was what Brendon had in mind, this was Brendon's way of testing the waters.

Brendon comes back, the package of M&Ms in one hand. It makes a rustling sound each time he moves that hand forward.

He sits in front of Shane and holds the bag up, offering it to Shane. Shane picks up the whole package instead of having Brendon hold it, which was what he had been planning.

Instead, he takes a few out of the package and then, with a little flick of his wrist, flings some of the candy out of the bag and onto the floor.

Brendon looks up at him.

Shane pops one of the M&Ms into his mouth. "Whoops," he says, crunching loudly. "You should clean that up."

Brendon reaches for the nearest one, turning his head around to look at Shane.

"You can put them on the plate," Shane says, nodding at the plate on the coffee table.

Brendon starts crawling after the other candies, but he freezes when Shane says, "Oh, and don't use your hands."

Shane's heart pounds in his throat, and he holds his breath while he waits to see what Brendon does. He hopes he hasn't read this wrong. He doesn't think he has, but--

Brendon moves. He presses his hands flat to the ground and dips his head, picks up one of the M&Ms and uses his mouth to carry it over to the plate.

Shane tries to breathe quietly when he exhales, and tries to fight the urge to squirm on the couch. He's fucking hard and he can see Brendon's erection straining in his jeans, and Shane's really fucking tempted to just tackle Brendon on the ground, but Brendon seems to want all of this, and Shane will keep it going until he doesn't think that Brendon wants it anymore.

Brendon chases after another candy, his back arching as he tries to catch it between his lips. Shane's got a great view of his ass from this angle, but he tries to keep his head up and pretend like he's watching TV.

Brendon drops another M&M on the plate.

It's more difficult for Brendon to get the next one to stay put, and Shane watches as he pulls his lips back, trying to catch it with his teeth.

"Carefully, now," Shane says. "You're supposed to clean them up, not eat them."

Brendon nods quickly. Shane tries to feel his head forward, so that it will look to Brendon like he's watching TV, even thought he's totally just sitting there gawking at Brendon.

There's the intermittent ping sound of Brendon dropping another candy onto the plate, but sometimes it takes quite a while for Brendon to carry another one over. Shane looks away from the TV, and Brendon's hunched over on the floor, his head turned away from Shane. It's a lovely view of his ass, which Shane takes the time to appreciate.

When Brendon finally turns around and brings another candy to the plate, Shane says, "Come over here."

Brendon crawls over and sits back, looking up at Shane.

Shane bends forward, cupping Brendon's cheeks with his hands and massaging Brendon's jaw with his thumbs. He opens Brendon's mouth with firm fingers-- Brendon hesitates, but goes pliant when Shane digs his thumbs in -- and then leans down and licks into Brendon's mouth, his tongue sliding over Brendon's.

"You taste like chocolate," Shane says, sitting back.

Brendon stares at the floor, his eyes wide. "It broke," he says.

Shane sits and waits. He wants Brendon to be the one to react so that he has something to go off of, something to use to gauge how far into this Brendon is willing to go.

It doesn't take long, just a stretch of silence, before Brendon glances up. Shane's staring down at him, and they make brief eye contact before Brendon looks away again.

"It broke," Brendon says. "I'm sorry."

Shane grins.

"You're sorry?" Shane asks.

Brendon nods.

"You want to go and buy me a new package? I wouldn't mind some pretzels if you take a trip to the store. Or do you want make it up in another way?"

"Another way," Brendon says. He's looking up at Shane, this measured stare that's also kind of hopeful.

"What do you want to do?" Shane asks.

Brendon keeps looking at him, and Shane finally says, "Suck me off? Show me that you can use your mouth like you're supposed to? Find something that I can hit you with?"

His chest feels kind of tight when he says the last part, but it's just a question, and Brendon can say no without even having to say no. It'd be easy for Brendon to put a stop to this, but instead he immediately answers, "Your hand."

"That's what you want?" Shane asks.

Brendon nods.

Shane says, "Tell me."

"I want you to use your hand," Brendon says.

Shane strokes his hand through Brendon's hair, trails it down to rest on Brendon's cheek. He asks, "Why?"

Brendon starts saying, "I wasn't supposed to eat the--" but Shane cuts him off saying, "No, the real reason."

Brendon's cheek goes even hotter under Shane's hand, and Shane knows that means that Brendon understands what Shane's asking.

"I think, like, punishment-- stuff, I don't know what to call it. That punishment stuff is hot," Brendon says. "I like being spanked in the, in the context of, like, um. When there's a context."

Shane leans forward and kisses Brendon quickly on the lips.

"Doesn't meant you don't have to ask for it in the first place," Shane says.

"Didn't know how to bring it up," Brendon admits.

"We can talk later," Shane says, grinning at Brendon. "After we finish with this scene."

Brendon nods.

Shane leans forward and kisses him again, then slides his hand up Brendon's cheek to tangle in his hair. He yanks Brendon's head back, holding him out of the way when Shane stands up.

Shane says, "Up," and starts pulling. Brendon scrabbles to his feet.

Shane leaves his hand in Brendon's hair. He kisses him again, then ducks his head, setting his teeth into Brendon's neck and biting down until Brendon makes a low noise. Shane nips sharply with his teeth before pulling away. There's a red mark left behind. He licks it, a sloppy swipe with his tongue, before pulling Brendon's head in the other direction so that he can mark the other side of Brendon's neck as well.

Brendon's pliant, and he goes easily when Shane shoves him around, pushing him until he's bent over the arm of their couch. They've got a big sofa, and Brendon has to point his toes in order to touch the ground. Shane pauses to let Brendon squirm around. When he settles, Shane says, "Take off your pants."

Brendon starts trying to push himself up, but Shane says, "No, stay like that."

He moves so that he's facing the couch and can see Brendon in profile, watches Brendon struggle to get his hips up high enough to fit his hands underneath and get at the zipper of his jeans. It takes him a while, but he manages to get them open. He wriggles around, trying to push them off, but he gets stalled once they're partway down his thigh, the arm of the couch stopping him from being able to reach any further.

He keeps trying, until Shane says, "That's good enough, Brendon. I just need your ass bare."

Brendon nods, and pulls his arms back up, tucking his hands under his head. His shirt falls forward. His ass is raised and his back is one long line of skin, and, wow, was that auction ever the best thing to ever happen to Shane's sex life.

Shane walks around so that he's standing behind Brendon. He touches Brendon's lower back with the tips of his fingers, trailing his hand down until his palm is resting on the curve Brendon's ass.

He lifts his hand off of Brendon's skin, pauses, and then brings it down hard. Brendon wants it to be like a punishment, so Shane doesn't start off light and easy. Brendon makes a sharp noise, then again when Shane hits him again.

Shane's not planning on drawing this out for long, so he makes each hit count. Brendon's ass goes a splotchy red, and Shane pauses for a moment to trail his fingers over the hot skin. He squeezes, and Brendon makes a little hiccupy sound.

"How many?" Shane asks.

Brendon shifts, but doesn't answer.

"Brendon."

Brendon makes a little umm sound, but doesn't say anything.

"Tell me a number or I'm going to leave you like this," says Shane, and Brendon says, "Twenty," his voice muffled by the couch cushions.

"Forty," Shane says. "Double because I had to ask twice."

Brendon's back arches, the back of his thighs tightening as he pushes up on his toes.

"Don't rub off on our couch," Shane says.

Brendon's body gives a little shudder, but he forces himself to stillness.

"There you go," Shane says, rubbing his hand over the curve of Brendon's ass. He says, "Count for me," and brings his hand down hard.

Brendon's voice is quiet, like he's talking into his arm. Shane waits until Brendon's counting out, "Five," before saying, "I can't hear you. We're starting over."

He gives Brendon a minute to move his head, then starts hitting him again.

"One," Brendon says, clearly now. "Two."

Shane rubs up the back of his thigh fondly. "Yeah, just like that."

Brendon counts out, "Three. Four. Five. Six," and his voice is even, so Shane hits a little harder each time until Brendon's voice finally cracks over, "Fourteen."

Shane keeps going like that, hitting the same spot right on the curve of Brendon's ass, until there's a little pause before Brendon counts, a beat where he holds his breath before forcing the air out. He gives him four more like that before moving on to another spot.

Shane hits the backs of his thighs, back and forth for, "Twenty-eight. Twenty-nine. Thirty. Thirty-one."

He keeps hitting Brendon's right thigh for the next four counts, and the pause before Brendon voices the count gets longer. When he hits again, Brendon makes a sharp noise, sucking in air loudly before finally gritting out, "Thirty-six."

Shane strokes his palm roughly up and down Brendon's thigh, sliding his hand all the way up to rub his thumb over Brendon's asshole. Brendon makes high, ah ah, noises when Shane rubs over his thigh, but he exhales and arches back against Shane's thumb. Shane rubs tiny circles, not pushing inside. He pushes just until he can feel the muscle start to give, then moves his hand away. Brendon makes a little noise of disappointment.

Shane cups his palm over the curve of Brendon's ass and digs his fingers in. Brendon gasps. "Four more," Shane says.

Brendon's right thigh is redder than his left, so Shane uses the last four to fix that. He waits just until Brendon calls out each number before bringing his hand down again, hurrying them toward the finish.

Shane rubs his hands together, shakes the stinging out of his palm. He watches Brendon's ribcage move as he takes in huge breaths. Brendon's ass is flushed, and some of the spots are redder than others, lines in the shapes of Shane's fingers. He touches Brendon's skin with the back of his hand, feathering his knuckles over Brendon's ass to rub at his lower back. Brendon braces himself with one arm, his forearm flat on the couch, and the other is bent at the elbow, his fingers tucked under his chin. Shane can see his face in profile, but Brendon's staring blankly forward and he doesn't notice Shane looking at him.

Shane's tempted to send Brendon crawling to the bedroom for lube, but he decides to give him a minute instead.

He slaps Brendon's ass again, playfully, swinging his arm, his palm connecting loudly with Brendon's skin, and says, "Stay." He walks to the bedroom, stripping naked when he's there.

When he comes back caring the bottle of lube, Brendon's exactly where he left him. He's looking at Shane now though, like he was watching the door and waiting for Shane to get back. Shane smiles at him. He maintains eye contact with Brendon as he walk back to the couch, waiting until Brendon to return the smile before he walks behind Brendon again.

He stands behind Brendon, holds the bottle of lube under his arm and uses his hands to open the condom and roll it on quickly. He drops the foil wrapper onto the floor. He drips lube onto his palm and tries to smear it over his cock. The condom's already lubricated, and he never knows how to spread on extra lube without just rubbing it all off onto his palm. He gives a quick stroke then wipes the extra off onto his thigh.

Shane holds the bottle a few inches above Brendon's ass and lets the lube drip out, sliding down the crease. Brendon squirms.

Shane drops the bottle onto the floor as well. He steadies one hand on Brendon's lower back and holds the base of his cock with the other one. Brendon's tight, and it takes a long moment of firm pressure before he relaxes enough to take Shane in. Shane hasn't opened him up with fingers, but he fucked Brendon last night and he's using plenty of lube now.

Brendon whimpers each time he breathes, a high whiny sound. His eyes are closed tightly, his jaw dropped open. If the couch were lower, Shane would be able to lean forward and press his palm to the back of Brendon's neck, but as it is all he can do is spread his fingers over Brendon's lower back, pushing firmly. Brendon murmurs in response, groaning low in the back of his throat.

"Do you know how fucking tight you are?" Shane asks, squeezing Brendon's ass with his other hand, his palm cupping hot skin. Brendon pants, his cheek smushed into the couch cushion, but he doesn't say anything.

"Brendon," Shane says, flexing his hips forward to emphasize the point.

Brendon exhales sharply. "Yes," he hisses.

Shane rocks slowly, grinding into Brendon.

Brendon inhales loudly. Says, "Hurts." Says, "Feels good."

Shane starts moving a little, still keeping his thrusts shallow, mostly just rocking into Brendon.

Brendon's silent for a long moment, when suddenly he gasps out, "Shane can I come?"

Shane keeps up the same rhythm, his hips flush with the curve of Brendon's ass as he rocks in small movements.

"Just from this?" Shane asks. "You want to come all over our couch?"

Brendon's hand thumps on the cushion, his fingers trying to dig in, his face screwed up tightly as he gives a couple of short jerks of his head, nodding as best he can in this position.

Shane stops, holds still for a moment and then starts circling his hips. He says, "I didn't say yes."

Brendon whimpers and squirms around as he tries to push his hips back. Shane uses both hands to squeeze Brendon's sore ass, but Brendon keeps moving, his hips hitching up as he rubs his cock against the arm of his chair, his ass back onto Shane's cock.

"Do not fucking come before I say," Shane says.

Brendon's shaking now, and he says, "Please, please," his voice small and high.

Shane moves his hands to Brendon's hips and jerks Brendon back, pushing forward at the same time. He's still hardly moving inside of Brendon, but Brendon's fucking tight and Shane focuses on coming, trying to catch up with Brendon. He pulls Brendon back a few times. Brendon says, "Shane." Says, "Can I come?" and Shane says, "Yes."

Brendon gets even tighter as he shudders through it.

Shane looks at Brendon writhing beneath him and comes, too. He feels kind of disconnected from his body when he's like this. He could have continued fucking Brendon for a while longer, but he knows that Brendon would be sore if he kept going.

He takes a few slow breaths before he starts pulling out slowly. Brendon's still making noise and he's loud the whole slide out, frantic nasally sounds. Shane pulls off the condom with one hand and uses the other to slide two fingers back into Brendon, hooking them in and then holding them still. Shane leans over and throws the condom in the direction of the coffee table.

He can feel Brendon clenching around his fingers, like it's taking him a long time to come down from his orgasm. He waits until Brendon finally goes still again before letting his fingers slip out.

He bends over Brendon, wrapping his arms around Brendon's chest.

"Come on," he says, tucking his chin over Brendon's neck and slowly pulling Brendon back up. "Come on, there you go."

Brendon's limp, but he lets Shane pull them both up to their feet and then wraps his arms around Shane's, holding him close even once they're both standing.

"Hey," Shane says, pressing his lips to Brendon's neck, then leaning forward to tilt his head to the side, pressing his cheek to the side of Brendon's head.

Brendon sways, and Shane tightens his arms.

"I've got pins and needles," Brendon says, dancing a little on the balls of his feet.

He doesn't let go when Shane starts pulling back, and Shane says, "It's okay, let's sit down. I'm right here, let's sit down."

He walks them over to the couch, and after some awkward manoeuvring where Brendon doesn't let go of Shane, they both lie down, Brendon tucked between the back of the couch and Shane's body.

Shane lies on his back and lets Brendon squirm around until he's comfortable. Brendon drapes his arm over Shane's chest, and Shane cups his palm over Brendon's shoulder.

"I didn't know you could come just from that," Shane says, tracing little circles with his fingers over Brendon's sweaty skin.

"It was just 'cause I was already so fucking turned on," Brendon grumbles.

Shane laughs, pushing up to press a kiss to the top of Brendon's head.

"Well, sorry," Shane teases.

Brendon turns his face and mumbles, "You should be," into Shane's chest. "Now you have to do that again sometime, just to make it up to me."

"If I have to," Shane says. "Seriously, Brendon, that was pretty fucking awesome. After we shower, we can actually talk about all of this."

"You bought me for the whole weekend," Brendon says, twisting around to look up at Shane. He wiggles his eyebrows and grins.

Shane grins, cupping the back of Brendon's neck and pulling him up for a kiss.

"I remember," he says.