Bandslash: Brendon/Ryan/Spencer/Jon
Title: Never Looked Better
Fandom: Bandslash
Pairing: Brendon/Ryan/Spencer/Jon
Rating: NC-17
Word Count: 3,338
Summary: “It looks like he’s trying to film some sort of 70s porno"
Notes: This is co-written with chopsticknoodle who also beta'd it. Basically she's wonderful.
“It looks like you fell on a dead animal and it stuck to your lip,” Brendon says, trying his best to hide his smirk. But he’s Brendon, so he cracks up laughing instead and turns to Jon for support.
“It’s uh...new,” Jon says. He manages to keep a straight face for a few seconds longer than Brendon did, but ends up chuckling into his palm.
“I can’t believe you took him out like this,” Ryan scolds, turning to glare at Brendon.
“Comic gold. Comic. Gold,” Brendon says between bursts of laughter. Ryan just rolls his eyes and frowns at Jon.
“It looks like he’s trying to film some sort of 70s porno,” he mumbles. That sets Brendon off again, him and Jon leaning on each other for support while they giggle.
"You do know I can hear you, right?" Spencer's poking his head out, and his eyes are sleepy, and his shorts are bunched around his waist, and he can feel three pairs of eyes sweeping across his skin.
"They should seriously learn how to soundproof bunks," Brendon mutters, and Spencer rolls his eyes in his direction too.
"Ryan I would expect this from, but you two? You, Mr. I got piano keys tattooed on my arm because it's my instrument of choice and I don't care that it looks retarded? And you, Laid Back Guy who doesn't bother to shave for a couple weeks, who all the girls love even more because of that? Who the fuck cares if I have-" He gestures up towards his face with a flick of his fingers. "A mustache? We're artists, assholes, not fucking supermodels."
"I've actually done that," Jon says, with a hand in front of his mouth, partially obscuring the words. "Too bony."
“Can’t be worse than Ryan,” Brendon adds, wiggling his eyebrows at Ryan. “We should totally film a 70s porno. We already have the perfect star.” He gestures at Spencer, who just flips him off and lets the curtain fall shut again.
“He’s right, you know,” Jon says, shrugging his shoulders. He inspects his nails for a moment before looking up and meeting Ryan’s eyes. “I could film it.” The words are almost too soft to be heard, but Ryan manages to catch them.
“We don’t even have any roller-skates,” Brendon says, pouting slightly. Then he perks up and slaps Ryan on the shoulder, “We’ll just have to make do. Because we have an awesome pornstache and we can BS the rest of it.”
“We’re not making porn,” Ryan says as firmly as possible. He means it. He really does. But then he pictures Spencer in hot pants and roller-skates and can’t help grinning.
Which of course Brendon takes for a yes.
--
At first Spencer doesn't notice, which is a really fucking dumbass move. He considers himself a smart guy, and when he walks into rooms and his bandmates suddenly shut up? And when they start reaching in between his legs to not grab at his dick, but to measure him for something? It's a sure fire tip off that something is up. Spencer's just pissed he didn't realize it sooner.
"What're you up to?" He asks Ryan, and he makes sure to put down his cup of coffee before Ryan answers, because he remembers the last time, and the spacesuit debacle and how much scalding hot coffee hurts when it gets in your eyes.
Ryan looks back at him blankly.
"I don't know what you're talking about."
"You're full of bullshit."
Ryan smirks a little, leaning across the table, and fits his mouth against Spencer's, his tongue reaching out to lick at Spencer's bottom lip. "I'd much rather be full of you."
There’s not much conversation after that.
--
Jon’s sneakier; mostly because his feet are distracting, but it’s a pretty sly move. He’s sitting on the couch in the lounge when Spencer struts up to him, one hand absently brushing over his awesome mustache and the other resting lightly on his hip.
“You’re plotting,” he says, frowning down at Jon. Jon slowly looks up, his eyes full of innocence.
“Not one for map-making,” Jon answers him before smiling ever so slightly, more of a quirking of lips than anything else.
“I’m onto you,” Spencer tells him, deepening his frown. But then Jon actually bats his eyelashes and Spencer’s gut tightens.
“Rather you’d be on me,” Jon calmly says as he coyly bites his lower lip. Spencer sighs and gives in, crawling into his lap.
Because Jon Walker’s lap is a very good place to be.
--
At the end of the day though, it's Brendon's smile that gets to him.
"Spence," He can feel fingers trailing a pattern against the skin of his shoulder, and he doesn't want to open his eyes. "Spence, hey, Spence, move over."
Spencer sighs, and loudly, but Brendon doesn't seem to care as he climbs into the bunk, settling a few inches lower than Spencer is, resting his head on Spencer's chest.
"You smell good."
Spencer wants to roll his eyes, and maybe say something cutting, because he is not, in any way shape or form doing what the three of them want him to do, but Brendon's breath is coming out in soft little bursts against his skin, and he's getting an explosion of goose-bumps all over.
"Yeah," He manages after a minute, his voice gruffer than he'd intended. He can feel his cock twitching in his boxers, and he's almost surprised, a little, that Brendon doesn't move at all. "I stole some of Jon's stuff. Sensual Amber."
Brendon makes a non-committal noise, his hair brushing at the underside of Spencer's chin.
Spencer's almost relaxed, almost back to sleeping, or as close as he can be with Brendon so close. Brendon leans over and flicks his tongue over Spencer's nipple, light, almost as if he's doing nothing at all. Spencer stiffens as Brendon smiles and peeks up at him.
"You taste just as good."
--
After a week of kisses and blowjobs and Ryan’s tight ass, Spencer caves. It’s not that he doesn’t get those things anyway, but he’s never had so many orgasms in a one week span. It’s like his birthday and Christmas and that time Brendon accidentally got high and was super touchy feely all over again.
“Whatever it is, I’ll do it,” he says one morning, cringing as soon as the words fall past his lips. He throws an arm over his eyes and waits to see what he just committed himself to. All he can hear is Brendon squealing and Ryan’s quiet “fuck yes.”
And when Jon rolls over and whispers, “You’re gonna love it,” softly against the nape of his neck, Spencer almost believes him.
-
There is a camera in the lounge.
"Hey, you guys? Are we doing one of those video diary things again?"
He takes another step in, eyes widening at the array of...hats? And different kinds of whipped creams and feathers, and what look like a pair of shiny silver and red handcuffs, complete with little bedazzled links, gracing the coffee table, next to the latest issue of Spin and the DVD remote.
"Guys?" Jon stumbles out from the bunks, fingers yanking up his pants, and when he sees the look on Spencer's face, he grins harder than he has in a long while.
"Hello, gorgeous," He murmurs, slipping closer and closer, even though Spencer has questions dammit, and when their lips touch, which is a while after Jon gets close, because sometimes he does that, just stands and looks at Spencer in his arms, their breath mingling, Spencer sees fireworks behind eyelids.
Then again, it's always like that with Jon.
The moment’s broken when Brendon bounces into the room wearing a tight pair of corduroys and what appears to be a leather vest. He’s grinning ridiculously wide, and Spencer can’t help but laugh.
Then he notices what he’s carrying.
“These are for you. The star and everything,” Brendon says as he hands Spencer the tiniest pair of shorts he’s ever seen; the tiniest and brightest hot pink shorts that he’s ever seen. He takes them carefully, unable to speak as he holds them between his thumb and forefinger, almost afraid to touch them.
“I don’t know about the skates,” Ryan says as he walks into the lounge, a pair of roller-skates dangling over his shoulder. “You should be dressed,” he mutters, shooting Spencer a look of pure disgust.
And just like that, Jon’s tugging at his pants and Brendon’s pulling his shirt over his head. He can barely protest, just leans on Ryan so he doesn’t trip over his jeans and then lets Brendon manhandle him into the shorts. He’s stands there - mostly in shock - and looks down at his body.
His package looks fantastic.
And that is totally not the point.
"I didn't actually sign on for this." Spencer mutters, and yeah, he's pouting a little but it's not like that can actually be helped. Ryan just shushes him, and he's leaning over him, so close to Spencer that their chests are touching a little, and Spencer can feel his heartbeat. It shouldn't be this hot. He's been hearing Ryan's heartbeat since he was freaking four years old, but even then, and even when they've had sex before, and it is NOT like they haven't, it's never been like this. Never been so-
"Are you actually thinking? I mean, I know I always tell you to focus while I put the last coat on, but you aren't supposed to be completely immune to my charms." This is as close to whining as Ryan ever gets during sex, and when Spencer remembers how to use his hands, he reaches them up, cupping Ryan's ass [which is surprisingly always tight, no matter how much abuse it gets], and digs his fingers into the skin there.
"I'm thinking about you," He whispers, and he can feel Ryan tensing the littlest bit.
"Hey, none of that without the rest of us!" Brendon's bounding up to them, and pressing his lips down to Spencer's even as his fingers are twisting around to rub at Ryan's cock.
"You're gonna mess up his face," Ryan mutters, but it comes out as nothing more than a whisper.
“You realize no one but the four of us is ever going to see this, right?” Jon asks, but Ryan just waves him away. If he wants the makeup to be perfect, then it’s going to be. Plus, Jon keeps messing with the lighting. Well, as much as he can in the dimly lit lounge.
“You realize we’re not filming this, right?” Spencer tries again, but Brendon just laughs and nips at his earlobe.
“You said yes. Don’t be a promise-breaker, Spence,” he whispers against Spencer’s neck. He shivers and leans into the warmth of Brendon’s body.
“I can’t skate,” he mumbles, laughing at how ridiculous it sounds. He’s considering - ok, going to, whatever - making porn with his four fuck buddies or boyfriends or whatever, and he’s worried about falling on his ass on the carpet in the lounge? Sometimes his life is so fucked up.
“They’re just props. You know, mood setting and other move terms like that,” Brendon says before crushing his lips against Spencer’s again. And Spencer can feel Ryan’s gasp before he hears it, a hot puff against his collarbone. His eyelids flutter open and he sees Jon reaching around, running his hand down Ryan’s forearm before gently knocking the brush out of his fingers.
“I’m in,” Spencer says breathily. He’s never seen the other guys strip that quickly.
And then Jon's reaching for him, and Spencer's stumbling forward, because hello, stupid skates, and he knows that somewhere the camera is rolling, and he tries to puff himself up, but Jon's hands are sure against his skin, and Spencer cannot even form coherent sentences.
Brendon is sucking at the sensitive spot on Spencer's neck, and Ryan is working his lips past the head of Jon's cock, and Spencer reaches back the fingers from the hand that isn't tangled in Jon's hair, and cups Brendon's dick, his fingers making swirling patterns, even as he's shivering from the pleasure.
Brendon moans, long and low in Spencer's ear, and he's pushing himself against Spencer's back, his fingers meeting on top of Jon's, and squeezing.
Somehow they maneuver onto the floor without hurting anyone and then Brendon’s all hands and lips, trailing over the expanse of Spencer’s chest. He still has those damn shorts on, and as good as the thin material feels hugging his ass, he’d rather feel Brendon’s skin against his own.
It’s as if Ryan can read his mind, and Spencer groans when Ryan pulls off of Jon’s cock and turns his attention to Spencer’s crotch. Jon digs reaches into one of the discarded rollers-skates and triumphantly holds up a tube of lube, and Spencer laughs.
He’s honestly not sure if he could love these guys more.
Then Ryan’s palming his cock through the hot pink shorts and he forgets how to breathe, let alone form sentences. He mumbles something along the lines of ohfuckyesplease and trails off in a groan as Ryan pulls down the shorts. They get stuck around his knees, but Ryan just shrugs and shoves Spencer down - his head in Brendon’s lap - and swallows down his cock.
Spencer's not sure how he does it, but Jon shifts the tiniest bit, and he's only the floor next to Spencer, his head pillowed on Brendon's thigh. Spencer can feel his breath coming against the back of his neck, can sense the electric slide if his fingers as they stroke down the side of Spencer's leg, and then inch inside him. Spencer knows he's ready, hell, Spencer's almost always ready, and this is Jon, so it just makes the whole process faster, but Jon is a man who likes to take his time, and Spencer is not going to begrudge him of that.
It’s Brendon who whimpers when Jon’s pulls his fingers out of Spencer’s ass and reaches for a condom. He casually tosses a couple at Brendon and Ryan - who comes up for air and smirks before catching his in his left hand - before opening one and shoving Ryan aside.
Spencer’s flushed and panting even before Jon spreads his legs and lines up. There’s a slow burn when he slides inside, slowly inching his way into Spencer’s ass. Jon’s eyes are narrowed, his teeth digging into his lower lip as he buries himself inside Spencer. Spencer just clings to him, barely able to keep his eyes open. His eyelids are weighed down as if dipped in honey, and his limbs are just as heavy.
“So fucking cool,” Brendon mutters from somewhere to his left, and just like that Spencer gets his second wind. He turns his head and watches Brendon as he cups Ryan’s face in his hands and pulls him close. Then Jon’s thrusting harder and Ryan’s moaning and it’s pretty much the best thing ever.
Spencer vaguely wonders how he got so fucking lucky before dragging Jon down for a kiss.
Jon's tongue is pulsing in time with the rest of him, and his fingers are tight as they're gripping against Spencer's hips, and there'll be bruises in the morning, hell, there'll be bruises in the next thirty seconds, but that kind of doesn't matter, because he can feel every part of Jon Walker pressed up against and inside him, and it's a totally girly move, he knows that, but that doesn't stop him from reaching back and lacing his fingers with Jon's.
"Hey, hey, none of that," Brendon mutters, and he's breaking away from Ryan's lips for a half a second, barely that, and his fingers are still tangled against Ryan's dick, but he's pushing Jon away, and Jon's coming out with a pop, and Spencer groans, because Brendon is sliding down, and their dicks are brushing together. And then Jon is touching at Spencer's cheek, leaning down and kissing him again, and Ryan is pushing on Brendon's condom, leaning forward to lick his lips, and then Brendon's pushing inside, and Spencer's groaning into Jon's mouth, and Jon's fingers meet Brendon's as they slide over Ryan's dick.
Brendon thrusts harder - he’s always rougher - than Jon, and Spencer moans at the sweet pressure of it. Jon’s cock is hard against his left hip and he’s sucking on Spencer’s collarbone. Spencer can’t even move a hand to jerk him off, because Ryan is still plastered to Brendon’s side, nipping at his neck as Spencer gets fucked.
Then Jon’s humping Spencer’s hip, pre-come slicking the way as he brushes against him. He’s panting harshly in Spencer’s ear, and Spencer knows he’s close. He turns away from the sight of Ryan sucking Brendon’s tongue into his mouth and presses a wet, open-mouthed kiss against Jon’s cheek. He whispers, “let go,” against Jon’s stubble before breaking off in a growl.
Jon bites down on Spencer’s neck and comes, thick spurts hitting Spencer’s side. He’s still shuddering when Spencer turns and smiles at him. “Save it for the camera,” Jon mutters after a long pause. Spencer turns towards the (momentarily forgotten) camera and grins, knowing he’ll laugh about it later.
Brendon slows his thrusts and Spencer turns back to him, bucking his hips and trying to get more. He wants Brendon to fill him, to really fuck him. But then Ryan’s whining and grabbing at Brendon’s hips. “My turn,” he says, blinking innocently at Brendon. And because Brendon’s Brendon, he gives in, just pulls out of Spencer and moves aside.
Jon takes pity on him and pulls him down, one hand snaking between them to wrap around his cock. He roughly jacks Brendon off while Ryan pushes inside of Spencer. And he’s so full and has been ready to come for hours now. Spencer grunts when Ryan finds him rhythm, really pounding into him. “More of a slut than I am,” Ryan moans against Spencer’s lips.
And then it's like...it's like Spencer is seeing stars because every single part of his body is pushing and pulling and being fucked into oblivion, and it's like, it's like.
"Guys," Brendon's panting, and trying to point all at once, but failing kind of miserably. "Spencer's about to come," He breathes before his voice dies in his throat, and suddenly, he's coming too, and Ryan's lips are attacking his, over Spencer, Spencer can feel them, and Jon leans down and kisses him again, smelling sweet and tangy, and Spencer reaches a hand up to cup at his cheek, and another to pat at Brendon's dick where he's still going, letting loose against the skin of Spencer's chest.
It's a fair assessment to say that Spencer is a mess when he comes.
It's also pretty fair to say that he doesn't care.
It takes Spencer a minute to gather his wits about him, and by the time he blinks slowly up at Ryan, he notices Ryan’s got his hand fisted around his cock and is chewing his lip so much he’s bleeding. His come is splattered across Spencer’s abs and he looks so thoroughly debauched that Spencer wishes he had a camera.
Then he realizes he actually does have this on film and smiles up at Ryan.
“We told you you were gonna love it,” Brendon says cheerfully as he tries to stand up, trips over a misplaced skate, and lands half on Ryan half on Jon. “Fuck it. We can cut it later.” He tries to pout but ends up laughing instead.
“You know you’re never shaving again, right?” Jon asks. Spencer just nods and pulls Ryan tighter. They’re a mess, the lounge is a mess, and they’ve just made a video tape that could make their careers a mess.
But Ryan’s breath is evening out against Spencer’s neck and Brendon is already asleep on the other side of Jon, and Spencer can’t do anything but tuck his head in the crook of Jon’s arm and close his eyes.
Fandom: Bandslash
Pairing: Brendon/Ryan/Spencer/Jon
Rating: NC-17
Word Count: 3,338
Summary: “It looks like he’s trying to film some sort of 70s porno"
Notes: This is co-written with chopsticknoodle who also beta'd it. Basically she's wonderful.
“It looks like you fell on a dead animal and it stuck to your lip,” Brendon says, trying his best to hide his smirk. But he’s Brendon, so he cracks up laughing instead and turns to Jon for support.
“It’s uh...new,” Jon says. He manages to keep a straight face for a few seconds longer than Brendon did, but ends up chuckling into his palm.
“I can’t believe you took him out like this,” Ryan scolds, turning to glare at Brendon.
“Comic gold. Comic. Gold,” Brendon says between bursts of laughter. Ryan just rolls his eyes and frowns at Jon.
“It looks like he’s trying to film some sort of 70s porno,” he mumbles. That sets Brendon off again, him and Jon leaning on each other for support while they giggle.
"You do know I can hear you, right?" Spencer's poking his head out, and his eyes are sleepy, and his shorts are bunched around his waist, and he can feel three pairs of eyes sweeping across his skin.
"They should seriously learn how to soundproof bunks," Brendon mutters, and Spencer rolls his eyes in his direction too.
"Ryan I would expect this from, but you two? You, Mr. I got piano keys tattooed on my arm because it's my instrument of choice and I don't care that it looks retarded? And you, Laid Back Guy who doesn't bother to shave for a couple weeks, who all the girls love even more because of that? Who the fuck cares if I have-" He gestures up towards his face with a flick of his fingers. "A mustache? We're artists, assholes, not fucking supermodels."
"I've actually done that," Jon says, with a hand in front of his mouth, partially obscuring the words. "Too bony."
“Can’t be worse than Ryan,” Brendon adds, wiggling his eyebrows at Ryan. “We should totally film a 70s porno. We already have the perfect star.” He gestures at Spencer, who just flips him off and lets the curtain fall shut again.
“He’s right, you know,” Jon says, shrugging his shoulders. He inspects his nails for a moment before looking up and meeting Ryan’s eyes. “I could film it.” The words are almost too soft to be heard, but Ryan manages to catch them.
“We don’t even have any roller-skates,” Brendon says, pouting slightly. Then he perks up and slaps Ryan on the shoulder, “We’ll just have to make do. Because we have an awesome pornstache and we can BS the rest of it.”
“We’re not making porn,” Ryan says as firmly as possible. He means it. He really does. But then he pictures Spencer in hot pants and roller-skates and can’t help grinning.
Which of course Brendon takes for a yes.
--
At first Spencer doesn't notice, which is a really fucking dumbass move. He considers himself a smart guy, and when he walks into rooms and his bandmates suddenly shut up? And when they start reaching in between his legs to not grab at his dick, but to measure him for something? It's a sure fire tip off that something is up. Spencer's just pissed he didn't realize it sooner.
"What're you up to?" He asks Ryan, and he makes sure to put down his cup of coffee before Ryan answers, because he remembers the last time, and the spacesuit debacle and how much scalding hot coffee hurts when it gets in your eyes.
Ryan looks back at him blankly.
"I don't know what you're talking about."
"You're full of bullshit."
Ryan smirks a little, leaning across the table, and fits his mouth against Spencer's, his tongue reaching out to lick at Spencer's bottom lip. "I'd much rather be full of you."
There’s not much conversation after that.
--
Jon’s sneakier; mostly because his feet are distracting, but it’s a pretty sly move. He’s sitting on the couch in the lounge when Spencer struts up to him, one hand absently brushing over his awesome mustache and the other resting lightly on his hip.
“You’re plotting,” he says, frowning down at Jon. Jon slowly looks up, his eyes full of innocence.
“Not one for map-making,” Jon answers him before smiling ever so slightly, more of a quirking of lips than anything else.
“I’m onto you,” Spencer tells him, deepening his frown. But then Jon actually bats his eyelashes and Spencer’s gut tightens.
“Rather you’d be on me,” Jon calmly says as he coyly bites his lower lip. Spencer sighs and gives in, crawling into his lap.
Because Jon Walker’s lap is a very good place to be.
--
At the end of the day though, it's Brendon's smile that gets to him.
"Spence," He can feel fingers trailing a pattern against the skin of his shoulder, and he doesn't want to open his eyes. "Spence, hey, Spence, move over."
Spencer sighs, and loudly, but Brendon doesn't seem to care as he climbs into the bunk, settling a few inches lower than Spencer is, resting his head on Spencer's chest.
"You smell good."
Spencer wants to roll his eyes, and maybe say something cutting, because he is not, in any way shape or form doing what the three of them want him to do, but Brendon's breath is coming out in soft little bursts against his skin, and he's getting an explosion of goose-bumps all over.
"Yeah," He manages after a minute, his voice gruffer than he'd intended. He can feel his cock twitching in his boxers, and he's almost surprised, a little, that Brendon doesn't move at all. "I stole some of Jon's stuff. Sensual Amber."
Brendon makes a non-committal noise, his hair brushing at the underside of Spencer's chin.
Spencer's almost relaxed, almost back to sleeping, or as close as he can be with Brendon so close. Brendon leans over and flicks his tongue over Spencer's nipple, light, almost as if he's doing nothing at all. Spencer stiffens as Brendon smiles and peeks up at him.
"You taste just as good."
--
After a week of kisses and blowjobs and Ryan’s tight ass, Spencer caves. It’s not that he doesn’t get those things anyway, but he’s never had so many orgasms in a one week span. It’s like his birthday and Christmas and that time Brendon accidentally got high and was super touchy feely all over again.
“Whatever it is, I’ll do it,” he says one morning, cringing as soon as the words fall past his lips. He throws an arm over his eyes and waits to see what he just committed himself to. All he can hear is Brendon squealing and Ryan’s quiet “fuck yes.”
And when Jon rolls over and whispers, “You’re gonna love it,” softly against the nape of his neck, Spencer almost believes him.
-
There is a camera in the lounge.
"Hey, you guys? Are we doing one of those video diary things again?"
He takes another step in, eyes widening at the array of...hats? And different kinds of whipped creams and feathers, and what look like a pair of shiny silver and red handcuffs, complete with little bedazzled links, gracing the coffee table, next to the latest issue of Spin and the DVD remote.
"Guys?" Jon stumbles out from the bunks, fingers yanking up his pants, and when he sees the look on Spencer's face, he grins harder than he has in a long while.
"Hello, gorgeous," He murmurs, slipping closer and closer, even though Spencer has questions dammit, and when their lips touch, which is a while after Jon gets close, because sometimes he does that, just stands and looks at Spencer in his arms, their breath mingling, Spencer sees fireworks behind eyelids.
Then again, it's always like that with Jon.
The moment’s broken when Brendon bounces into the room wearing a tight pair of corduroys and what appears to be a leather vest. He’s grinning ridiculously wide, and Spencer can’t help but laugh.
Then he notices what he’s carrying.
“These are for you. The star and everything,” Brendon says as he hands Spencer the tiniest pair of shorts he’s ever seen; the tiniest and brightest hot pink shorts that he’s ever seen. He takes them carefully, unable to speak as he holds them between his thumb and forefinger, almost afraid to touch them.
“I don’t know about the skates,” Ryan says as he walks into the lounge, a pair of roller-skates dangling over his shoulder. “You should be dressed,” he mutters, shooting Spencer a look of pure disgust.
And just like that, Jon’s tugging at his pants and Brendon’s pulling his shirt over his head. He can barely protest, just leans on Ryan so he doesn’t trip over his jeans and then lets Brendon manhandle him into the shorts. He’s stands there - mostly in shock - and looks down at his body.
His package looks fantastic.
And that is totally not the point.
"I didn't actually sign on for this." Spencer mutters, and yeah, he's pouting a little but it's not like that can actually be helped. Ryan just shushes him, and he's leaning over him, so close to Spencer that their chests are touching a little, and Spencer can feel his heartbeat. It shouldn't be this hot. He's been hearing Ryan's heartbeat since he was freaking four years old, but even then, and even when they've had sex before, and it is NOT like they haven't, it's never been like this. Never been so-
"Are you actually thinking? I mean, I know I always tell you to focus while I put the last coat on, but you aren't supposed to be completely immune to my charms." This is as close to whining as Ryan ever gets during sex, and when Spencer remembers how to use his hands, he reaches them up, cupping Ryan's ass [which is surprisingly always tight, no matter how much abuse it gets], and digs his fingers into the skin there.
"I'm thinking about you," He whispers, and he can feel Ryan tensing the littlest bit.
"Hey, none of that without the rest of us!" Brendon's bounding up to them, and pressing his lips down to Spencer's even as his fingers are twisting around to rub at Ryan's cock.
"You're gonna mess up his face," Ryan mutters, but it comes out as nothing more than a whisper.
“You realize no one but the four of us is ever going to see this, right?” Jon asks, but Ryan just waves him away. If he wants the makeup to be perfect, then it’s going to be. Plus, Jon keeps messing with the lighting. Well, as much as he can in the dimly lit lounge.
“You realize we’re not filming this, right?” Spencer tries again, but Brendon just laughs and nips at his earlobe.
“You said yes. Don’t be a promise-breaker, Spence,” he whispers against Spencer’s neck. He shivers and leans into the warmth of Brendon’s body.
“I can’t skate,” he mumbles, laughing at how ridiculous it sounds. He’s considering - ok, going to, whatever - making porn with his four fuck buddies or boyfriends or whatever, and he’s worried about falling on his ass on the carpet in the lounge? Sometimes his life is so fucked up.
“They’re just props. You know, mood setting and other move terms like that,” Brendon says before crushing his lips against Spencer’s again. And Spencer can feel Ryan’s gasp before he hears it, a hot puff against his collarbone. His eyelids flutter open and he sees Jon reaching around, running his hand down Ryan’s forearm before gently knocking the brush out of his fingers.
“I’m in,” Spencer says breathily. He’s never seen the other guys strip that quickly.
And then Jon's reaching for him, and Spencer's stumbling forward, because hello, stupid skates, and he knows that somewhere the camera is rolling, and he tries to puff himself up, but Jon's hands are sure against his skin, and Spencer cannot even form coherent sentences.
Brendon is sucking at the sensitive spot on Spencer's neck, and Ryan is working his lips past the head of Jon's cock, and Spencer reaches back the fingers from the hand that isn't tangled in Jon's hair, and cups Brendon's dick, his fingers making swirling patterns, even as he's shivering from the pleasure.
Brendon moans, long and low in Spencer's ear, and he's pushing himself against Spencer's back, his fingers meeting on top of Jon's, and squeezing.
Somehow they maneuver onto the floor without hurting anyone and then Brendon’s all hands and lips, trailing over the expanse of Spencer’s chest. He still has those damn shorts on, and as good as the thin material feels hugging his ass, he’d rather feel Brendon’s skin against his own.
It’s as if Ryan can read his mind, and Spencer groans when Ryan pulls off of Jon’s cock and turns his attention to Spencer’s crotch. Jon digs reaches into one of the discarded rollers-skates and triumphantly holds up a tube of lube, and Spencer laughs.
He’s honestly not sure if he could love these guys more.
Then Ryan’s palming his cock through the hot pink shorts and he forgets how to breathe, let alone form sentences. He mumbles something along the lines of ohfuckyesplease and trails off in a groan as Ryan pulls down the shorts. They get stuck around his knees, but Ryan just shrugs and shoves Spencer down - his head in Brendon’s lap - and swallows down his cock.
Spencer's not sure how he does it, but Jon shifts the tiniest bit, and he's only the floor next to Spencer, his head pillowed on Brendon's thigh. Spencer can feel his breath coming against the back of his neck, can sense the electric slide if his fingers as they stroke down the side of Spencer's leg, and then inch inside him. Spencer knows he's ready, hell, Spencer's almost always ready, and this is Jon, so it just makes the whole process faster, but Jon is a man who likes to take his time, and Spencer is not going to begrudge him of that.
It’s Brendon who whimpers when Jon’s pulls his fingers out of Spencer’s ass and reaches for a condom. He casually tosses a couple at Brendon and Ryan - who comes up for air and smirks before catching his in his left hand - before opening one and shoving Ryan aside.
Spencer’s flushed and panting even before Jon spreads his legs and lines up. There’s a slow burn when he slides inside, slowly inching his way into Spencer’s ass. Jon’s eyes are narrowed, his teeth digging into his lower lip as he buries himself inside Spencer. Spencer just clings to him, barely able to keep his eyes open. His eyelids are weighed down as if dipped in honey, and his limbs are just as heavy.
“So fucking cool,” Brendon mutters from somewhere to his left, and just like that Spencer gets his second wind. He turns his head and watches Brendon as he cups Ryan’s face in his hands and pulls him close. Then Jon’s thrusting harder and Ryan’s moaning and it’s pretty much the best thing ever.
Spencer vaguely wonders how he got so fucking lucky before dragging Jon down for a kiss.
Jon's tongue is pulsing in time with the rest of him, and his fingers are tight as they're gripping against Spencer's hips, and there'll be bruises in the morning, hell, there'll be bruises in the next thirty seconds, but that kind of doesn't matter, because he can feel every part of Jon Walker pressed up against and inside him, and it's a totally girly move, he knows that, but that doesn't stop him from reaching back and lacing his fingers with Jon's.
"Hey, hey, none of that," Brendon mutters, and he's breaking away from Ryan's lips for a half a second, barely that, and his fingers are still tangled against Ryan's dick, but he's pushing Jon away, and Jon's coming out with a pop, and Spencer groans, because Brendon is sliding down, and their dicks are brushing together. And then Jon is touching at Spencer's cheek, leaning down and kissing him again, and Ryan is pushing on Brendon's condom, leaning forward to lick his lips, and then Brendon's pushing inside, and Spencer's groaning into Jon's mouth, and Jon's fingers meet Brendon's as they slide over Ryan's dick.
Brendon thrusts harder - he’s always rougher - than Jon, and Spencer moans at the sweet pressure of it. Jon’s cock is hard against his left hip and he’s sucking on Spencer’s collarbone. Spencer can’t even move a hand to jerk him off, because Ryan is still plastered to Brendon’s side, nipping at his neck as Spencer gets fucked.
Then Jon’s humping Spencer’s hip, pre-come slicking the way as he brushes against him. He’s panting harshly in Spencer’s ear, and Spencer knows he’s close. He turns away from the sight of Ryan sucking Brendon’s tongue into his mouth and presses a wet, open-mouthed kiss against Jon’s cheek. He whispers, “let go,” against Jon’s stubble before breaking off in a growl.
Jon bites down on Spencer’s neck and comes, thick spurts hitting Spencer’s side. He’s still shuddering when Spencer turns and smiles at him. “Save it for the camera,” Jon mutters after a long pause. Spencer turns towards the (momentarily forgotten) camera and grins, knowing he’ll laugh about it later.
Brendon slows his thrusts and Spencer turns back to him, bucking his hips and trying to get more. He wants Brendon to fill him, to really fuck him. But then Ryan’s whining and grabbing at Brendon’s hips. “My turn,” he says, blinking innocently at Brendon. And because Brendon’s Brendon, he gives in, just pulls out of Spencer and moves aside.
Jon takes pity on him and pulls him down, one hand snaking between them to wrap around his cock. He roughly jacks Brendon off while Ryan pushes inside of Spencer. And he’s so full and has been ready to come for hours now. Spencer grunts when Ryan finds him rhythm, really pounding into him. “More of a slut than I am,” Ryan moans against Spencer’s lips.
And then it's like...it's like Spencer is seeing stars because every single part of his body is pushing and pulling and being fucked into oblivion, and it's like, it's like.
"Guys," Brendon's panting, and trying to point all at once, but failing kind of miserably. "Spencer's about to come," He breathes before his voice dies in his throat, and suddenly, he's coming too, and Ryan's lips are attacking his, over Spencer, Spencer can feel them, and Jon leans down and kisses him again, smelling sweet and tangy, and Spencer reaches a hand up to cup at his cheek, and another to pat at Brendon's dick where he's still going, letting loose against the skin of Spencer's chest.
It's a fair assessment to say that Spencer is a mess when he comes.
It's also pretty fair to say that he doesn't care.
It takes Spencer a minute to gather his wits about him, and by the time he blinks slowly up at Ryan, he notices Ryan’s got his hand fisted around his cock and is chewing his lip so much he’s bleeding. His come is splattered across Spencer’s abs and he looks so thoroughly debauched that Spencer wishes he had a camera.
Then he realizes he actually does have this on film and smiles up at Ryan.
“We told you you were gonna love it,” Brendon says cheerfully as he tries to stand up, trips over a misplaced skate, and lands half on Ryan half on Jon. “Fuck it. We can cut it later.” He tries to pout but ends up laughing instead.
“You know you’re never shaving again, right?” Jon asks. Spencer just nods and pulls Ryan tighter. They’re a mess, the lounge is a mess, and they’ve just made a video tape that could make their careers a mess.
But Ryan’s breath is evening out against Spencer’s neck and Brendon is already asleep on the other side of Jon, and Spencer can’t do anything but tuck his head in the crook of Jon’s arm and close his eyes.