Seamless
Seamless
bandom || Brendon/Spencer (PATD) || adult || 1796 words
(cross-dressing)
follows The Perfect Gifts Are Little And Lacy
visual
A/N: started as comment-fic for shutyourface; continued as distraction from my bigbang fic; completely unbeta'd, just so's you know
This is real-person based fiction. As in: not real. How many different ways can I say it?
* * *
When Keltie wins an audition for one of the roles in MTV's remake of Rocky Horror Picture Show, she makes them all watch the original together next time they're all in L.A.
Spencer spends most of the movie watching Dr. Frankenfurter, thinking about Brendon in his black panties and camisole, and he's totally not as smooth and cool as he thinks he is, because Brendon cuddles half next-to, half on him on Eric and Ryan's sofa bed later and murmurs sleepily, "I thought about buying fancier things. When I got the stuff. Before."
Spencer's breath catches in his throat, but eventually he mutters, "Yeah?"
"Yeah. Just, you know, a thought."
They have an afternoon off in Richmond, and Spencer uses googlemaps to find the nearest mall.
Spencer has a plan, okay? He's going to go in, buy what they need, and get out. But the saleswoman corners him when he's trying to decide between thigh-highs and actual stockings and garters, and there's no getting away.
He is really really proud that he's able to answer, "Uh, sh-she wears a size five jean" without too much stuttering when the woman inquires about his girlfriend's measurements.
Spencer decides to start small, see how the thigh-highs work out.
But the saleswoman is persuasive, and if Spencer is honest, he's pretty sure that both he and Brendon will enjoy their next foray into lingerie, so he ends up buying a few other items as well.
He glances at the life-sized poster in the window as he heads into the mall proper, and he pauses. The model, she's lying on her belly, her boobs and bra on display, her legs crossed, spiked black heels waving in the air behind her head.
Spencer thinks about it for a minute, imagines it. And okay, that's something Brendon needs to weigh in on, needs to actually be there to size before they try it. He'll definitely ask.
They go out that night, but don't stay out late - there's an early call for a live radio interview, and they always go better without a hangover. Plus, hotel nights should never be squandered.
Brendon's on the same page as Spencer, and in the seconds after the door closes behind them, he's stripped bare and pushing blankets aside impatiently.
Spencer watches him, spread out, until Brendon tells him, "If you don't get over here I'm going to take care of this myself."
And, yeah, Spencer could get off on watching, but he'd rather participate.
They remain tangled together in the wake of the first round, kissing lazily, building slowly toward the possibility of a repeat. Eventually Spencer shuffles Brendon onto his back and rolls over.
"I want to try something."
Brendon's smile is loose, his body humming with satisfaction and an underlying thread of expectation.
"Yeah?"
Spencer gets up, grabs his bag and takes the thigh-highs out of the package, stretches the fabric between his hands.
Brendon's eyes widen.
"Can I?"
Teeth settle into Brendon's bottom lip, but he nods.
Spencer crawls onto the mattress by Brendon's feet and shakes out one of the stockings. He gathers it in his hand and slips it over Brendon's foot, up his ankle. The sheer fabric catches on the fine hairs there, and Spencer's busy tugging it up - it doesn't go very smoothly, but he supposes women get good at this with practice - and almost misses the puff of laughter that bubbles out of Brendon. Surprised and maybe a little offended, he looks up.
"No, hey. It's not- I'm not laughing at this. At you. I'm laughing at me. This is totally not what I thought you were asking to try." He blows a breath that pushes his bangs off his forehead.
Spencer's still sitting there, crouched between Brendon's feet, the other stocking limp on the bed between them.
"What did you think it was?"
Brendon's cheeks redden, and he admits, "I thought they were restraints."
And Spencer, Spencer can't think about that right now. Because holy shit, Brendon just letting him-
Yeah, no, that's a thought that requires more time and space to appreciate. Like, alone time. In a space. With Brendon. Other than a hotel night that's already half over, when Spencer doesn't already have plans for the rest of the night.
Brendon's foot pokes at Spencer's thigh, nudging him out of his distraction. He arches his foot and points his toe and says, "Roll the stocking on, it'll go easier that way."
Spencer raises a single eyebrow.
"What? I have older sisters!"
So he follows Brendon's directions, shaking out the stocking and rolling it into a donut shape, then slipping the ring of nylon over Brendon's foot and rolling it up easily, trying to keep the seam straight in the back, until his hands rest on the elastic that hits Brendon mid-thigh.
It's ridiculous, because this is putting clothing *on*, but it feels intimate, private and personal. It surprises Spencer, who thinks that it shouldn't feel so secret and new, not when they're still lying on the rumpled sheets that witnessed their last coupling.
He traces the edge of stocking with his index finger, back and forth, back and forth over the lace, until Brendon's quad flexes. He looks up to see Brendon breathing shallowly, the rest of his body unnaturally still.
"Well?"
Spencer rocks back on his heels and takes it all in: Brendon's sprawl, the pale skin contrasting with sheer black, what Spencer considers delicate feminine material ending a few inches shy of Brendon's dick, half-hard again where it rests again his thigh. Christ, Brendon is stupidly hot, even like this, especially like this, and Spencer wants him again. Always.
His wraps his hand around Brendon's ankle, feels the loose slide of slick nylon on top of thin skin and fragile bone. He kisses the knob of bone there before moving slowly upward, his beard catching and prickling as he shifts, watching Brendon settle back into pillows. He doesn't stop until he reaches the opaque band of lace at the top, and he can feel against his lips where it's tight against Brendon's thighs, even though they're skinnier than Spencer's.
Brendon remains silent, waiting expectantly. Spencer bends forward and mouths over Brendon's cock, brushing his beard against the sensitive skin of his balls before he takes Brendon in. He can't deepthroat, and he isn't as sloppily enthusiastic as Brendon is, but Brendon always says he doesn't care about that. Spencer keeps one hand on Brendon's hip and the other on his thigh, caressing the edge of the stocking absently as he alternates delicate licks with firm pressure. It's not long before Brendon's hips are fighting Spencer's weight, trying to push him deeper. Spencer pulls back and sees Brendon arches higher, trying to catch him, his legs spreading wider as he does, so Spencer can also see the shine of the lube they used earlier. He doesn't even think about it before rubbing his thumb over Brendon's entrance, earning a groan. Spencer wets two fingers and pushes them in just as he sucks the head of Brendon's cock back into his mouth, and he's expecting Brendon's hips to jerk upward, not to feel Brendon's foot on his shoulder, pushing him back.
"C'mon, c'mon. I can't even. Jesus." Brendon squirms, flailing until he's got another condom from the opened box, putting it and lube on Spencer. Spencer crawls forward, propping himself on his elbows, ready to line up and push in, when, "Like this," and Brendon's lifting and twisting (how does he do that?) and his legs are up, his knees over Spencer's shoulders, black nylon in his peripheral vision.
"Fuck, Brendon."
"Exactly, Spence." He probably means to sound sarcastic, but Brendon's voice is closer to a whine.
Spencer sinks in, watches Brendon's eyes flutter closed and his head dig deeper into the pillow even as he pushes his hips up against Spencer's. Brendon's folded in half beneath Spencer so that they can't kiss comfortably, but that's okay because Spencer's panting and cursing, takes all his focus to keep his rhythm steady, quick and deep. Brendon watches, watches, one arm braced back on the headboard, the other twisted in the sheets. Spencer manages to shift so he's holding himself up on one elbow, and he runs one hand down Brendon's side and back up his leg, hooking his finger around Brendon's knee. The pads of his fingers stroke the tender spot behind his knee, where the skin is softer even than the fabric covering it. He feels Brendon shiver, and he slides his hand back up to the elastic, stretching it just a little to feel it snap back into place. Brendon shudders harder, pushing back onto Spencer more insistently, and shit. He's hot and slick and tight around him, urging him on, and Spencer can't hold back. He lets himself go, hips stuttering against Brendon's ass before he thrusts one last time and holds himself still as he comes.
Brendon's restless, though, still hard beneath him. Spencer manages to untangle their limbs so that they're back how they started, and Brendon's already reaching for his cock when Spencer leans in and takes the head in his mouth again. His hands hold Brendon's thighs wide, his fingertips spread over skin and fabric. Brendon buries one hand in Spencer's hair and the other hand wraps around the base of his dick, stroking swiftly, and he's close, so close, Spencer recognizes the signs. Spencer mouths the head again, leans back to watch Brendon's desperation, the picture he makes as he gets himself off. He slides fingers under the lace, pushes it aside. He brushes the reddened indentation elastic left with a gentle finger, and then, keeping his eyes on Brendon, leans in and kisses the mark, traces it with tongue and the soft brush of his chin.
He's still watching as Brendon's back arches and his hips push up against nothing, his leg flexing under Spencer's palm, his fist tightening in Spencer's hair as he comes in his own fist, across his belly. Once he's done, Brendon is limp, slumped on the sheets, his legs sprawled wide, a panting mess.
Spencer needs to clean up, needs to the deal with the condom, tossed over the side of the bed in his haste, but instead he carefully rolls the stockings down Brendon's legs, massaging the twin marks the elastic left.
"Mmmph." Brendon's groan is a mix of pained annoyance and satisfaction.
"Sorry. I guess I got them a bit too small."
He lifts his head from the pillow. "Are you saying I have fat thighs?"
"No! Just. I didn't-" Spencer sputters until he realizes that Brendon is grinning at him, his goofy post-coital everything-is-fine grin.
"We'll just have to try the kind with garters next time instead."
bandom || Brendon/Spencer (PATD) || adult || 1796 words
(cross-dressing)
follows The Perfect Gifts Are Little And Lacy
visual
A/N: started as comment-fic for shutyourface; continued as distraction from my bigbang fic; completely unbeta'd, just so's you know
This is real-person based fiction. As in: not real. How many different ways can I say it?
* * *
When Keltie wins an audition for one of the roles in MTV's remake of Rocky Horror Picture Show, she makes them all watch the original together next time they're all in L.A.
Spencer spends most of the movie watching Dr. Frankenfurter, thinking about Brendon in his black panties and camisole, and he's totally not as smooth and cool as he thinks he is, because Brendon cuddles half next-to, half on him on Eric and Ryan's sofa bed later and murmurs sleepily, "I thought about buying fancier things. When I got the stuff. Before."
Spencer's breath catches in his throat, but eventually he mutters, "Yeah?"
"Yeah. Just, you know, a thought."
They have an afternoon off in Richmond, and Spencer uses googlemaps to find the nearest mall.
Spencer has a plan, okay? He's going to go in, buy what they need, and get out. But the saleswoman corners him when he's trying to decide between thigh-highs and actual stockings and garters, and there's no getting away.
He is really really proud that he's able to answer, "Uh, sh-she wears a size five jean" without too much stuttering when the woman inquires about his girlfriend's measurements.
Spencer decides to start small, see how the thigh-highs work out.
But the saleswoman is persuasive, and if Spencer is honest, he's pretty sure that both he and Brendon will enjoy their next foray into lingerie, so he ends up buying a few other items as well.
He glances at the life-sized poster in the window as he heads into the mall proper, and he pauses. The model, she's lying on her belly, her boobs and bra on display, her legs crossed, spiked black heels waving in the air behind her head.
Spencer thinks about it for a minute, imagines it. And okay, that's something Brendon needs to weigh in on, needs to actually be there to size before they try it. He'll definitely ask.
They go out that night, but don't stay out late - there's an early call for a live radio interview, and they always go better without a hangover. Plus, hotel nights should never be squandered.
Brendon's on the same page as Spencer, and in the seconds after the door closes behind them, he's stripped bare and pushing blankets aside impatiently.
Spencer watches him, spread out, until Brendon tells him, "If you don't get over here I'm going to take care of this myself."
And, yeah, Spencer could get off on watching, but he'd rather participate.
They remain tangled together in the wake of the first round, kissing lazily, building slowly toward the possibility of a repeat. Eventually Spencer shuffles Brendon onto his back and rolls over.
"I want to try something."
Brendon's smile is loose, his body humming with satisfaction and an underlying thread of expectation.
"Yeah?"
Spencer gets up, grabs his bag and takes the thigh-highs out of the package, stretches the fabric between his hands.
Brendon's eyes widen.
"Can I?"
Teeth settle into Brendon's bottom lip, but he nods.
Spencer crawls onto the mattress by Brendon's feet and shakes out one of the stockings. He gathers it in his hand and slips it over Brendon's foot, up his ankle. The sheer fabric catches on the fine hairs there, and Spencer's busy tugging it up - it doesn't go very smoothly, but he supposes women get good at this with practice - and almost misses the puff of laughter that bubbles out of Brendon. Surprised and maybe a little offended, he looks up.
"No, hey. It's not- I'm not laughing at this. At you. I'm laughing at me. This is totally not what I thought you were asking to try." He blows a breath that pushes his bangs off his forehead.
Spencer's still sitting there, crouched between Brendon's feet, the other stocking limp on the bed between them.
"What did you think it was?"
Brendon's cheeks redden, and he admits, "I thought they were restraints."
And Spencer, Spencer can't think about that right now. Because holy shit, Brendon just letting him-
Yeah, no, that's a thought that requires more time and space to appreciate. Like, alone time. In a space. With Brendon. Other than a hotel night that's already half over, when Spencer doesn't already have plans for the rest of the night.
Brendon's foot pokes at Spencer's thigh, nudging him out of his distraction. He arches his foot and points his toe and says, "Roll the stocking on, it'll go easier that way."
Spencer raises a single eyebrow.
"What? I have older sisters!"
So he follows Brendon's directions, shaking out the stocking and rolling it into a donut shape, then slipping the ring of nylon over Brendon's foot and rolling it up easily, trying to keep the seam straight in the back, until his hands rest on the elastic that hits Brendon mid-thigh.
It's ridiculous, because this is putting clothing *on*, but it feels intimate, private and personal. It surprises Spencer, who thinks that it shouldn't feel so secret and new, not when they're still lying on the rumpled sheets that witnessed their last coupling.
He traces the edge of stocking with his index finger, back and forth, back and forth over the lace, until Brendon's quad flexes. He looks up to see Brendon breathing shallowly, the rest of his body unnaturally still.
"Well?"
Spencer rocks back on his heels and takes it all in: Brendon's sprawl, the pale skin contrasting with sheer black, what Spencer considers delicate feminine material ending a few inches shy of Brendon's dick, half-hard again where it rests again his thigh. Christ, Brendon is stupidly hot, even like this, especially like this, and Spencer wants him again. Always.
His wraps his hand around Brendon's ankle, feels the loose slide of slick nylon on top of thin skin and fragile bone. He kisses the knob of bone there before moving slowly upward, his beard catching and prickling as he shifts, watching Brendon settle back into pillows. He doesn't stop until he reaches the opaque band of lace at the top, and he can feel against his lips where it's tight against Brendon's thighs, even though they're skinnier than Spencer's.
Brendon remains silent, waiting expectantly. Spencer bends forward and mouths over Brendon's cock, brushing his beard against the sensitive skin of his balls before he takes Brendon in. He can't deepthroat, and he isn't as sloppily enthusiastic as Brendon is, but Brendon always says he doesn't care about that. Spencer keeps one hand on Brendon's hip and the other on his thigh, caressing the edge of the stocking absently as he alternates delicate licks with firm pressure. It's not long before Brendon's hips are fighting Spencer's weight, trying to push him deeper. Spencer pulls back and sees Brendon arches higher, trying to catch him, his legs spreading wider as he does, so Spencer can also see the shine of the lube they used earlier. He doesn't even think about it before rubbing his thumb over Brendon's entrance, earning a groan. Spencer wets two fingers and pushes them in just as he sucks the head of Brendon's cock back into his mouth, and he's expecting Brendon's hips to jerk upward, not to feel Brendon's foot on his shoulder, pushing him back.
"C'mon, c'mon. I can't even. Jesus." Brendon squirms, flailing until he's got another condom from the opened box, putting it and lube on Spencer. Spencer crawls forward, propping himself on his elbows, ready to line up and push in, when, "Like this," and Brendon's lifting and twisting (how does he do that?) and his legs are up, his knees over Spencer's shoulders, black nylon in his peripheral vision.
"Fuck, Brendon."
"Exactly, Spence." He probably means to sound sarcastic, but Brendon's voice is closer to a whine.
Spencer sinks in, watches Brendon's eyes flutter closed and his head dig deeper into the pillow even as he pushes his hips up against Spencer's. Brendon's folded in half beneath Spencer so that they can't kiss comfortably, but that's okay because Spencer's panting and cursing, takes all his focus to keep his rhythm steady, quick and deep. Brendon watches, watches, one arm braced back on the headboard, the other twisted in the sheets. Spencer manages to shift so he's holding himself up on one elbow, and he runs one hand down Brendon's side and back up his leg, hooking his finger around Brendon's knee. The pads of his fingers stroke the tender spot behind his knee, where the skin is softer even than the fabric covering it. He feels Brendon shiver, and he slides his hand back up to the elastic, stretching it just a little to feel it snap back into place. Brendon shudders harder, pushing back onto Spencer more insistently, and shit. He's hot and slick and tight around him, urging him on, and Spencer can't hold back. He lets himself go, hips stuttering against Brendon's ass before he thrusts one last time and holds himself still as he comes.
Brendon's restless, though, still hard beneath him. Spencer manages to untangle their limbs so that they're back how they started, and Brendon's already reaching for his cock when Spencer leans in and takes the head in his mouth again. His hands hold Brendon's thighs wide, his fingertips spread over skin and fabric. Brendon buries one hand in Spencer's hair and the other hand wraps around the base of his dick, stroking swiftly, and he's close, so close, Spencer recognizes the signs. Spencer mouths the head again, leans back to watch Brendon's desperation, the picture he makes as he gets himself off. He slides fingers under the lace, pushes it aside. He brushes the reddened indentation elastic left with a gentle finger, and then, keeping his eyes on Brendon, leans in and kisses the mark, traces it with tongue and the soft brush of his chin.
He's still watching as Brendon's back arches and his hips push up against nothing, his leg flexing under Spencer's palm, his fist tightening in Spencer's hair as he comes in his own fist, across his belly. Once he's done, Brendon is limp, slumped on the sheets, his legs sprawled wide, a panting mess.
Spencer needs to clean up, needs to the deal with the condom, tossed over the side of the bed in his haste, but instead he carefully rolls the stockings down Brendon's legs, massaging the twin marks the elastic left.
"Mmmph." Brendon's groan is a mix of pained annoyance and satisfaction.
"Sorry. I guess I got them a bit too small."
He lifts his head from the pillow. "Are you saying I have fat thighs?"
"No! Just. I didn't-" Spencer sputters until he realizes that Brendon is grinning at him, his goofy post-coital everything-is-fine grin.
"We'll just have to try the kind with garters next time instead."