Good to go
Shane’s eyes crinkle around the corners slightly when he smiles. He smiles a lot, but right now, it’s a full-blown grin, the one that comes with an unspoken “For real?”. Spencer ducks his head and tries not to grin back, but yeah. Fuck that.
“It just kinda happened.” Shane giggles. “Yeah right. Spanking has that way of sneaking up on you. Come on, man. Details!” Spencer shrugs, the gesture at odds with the suppressed smile. “I just… he was fucking annoying.” Shane giggles again, nodding. It’s not hard to understand for anyone who has been around Ryan for more then a week that the guy can drive you up the wall.
“So I told him to shut up.” After listening to Brandon and Ryan arguing about a stupid fucking cartoon for three hours, but… beside the point. “He didn’t. So… it just kinda happened.” “What did he say?” Spencer’s still working on the not grinning thing and he’s still fucking it up.
“He didn’t. He just… well. He kinda got off on it. Like, you know. A lot.” He still remembers how Ryan just settled over his lap, arching his back and… fucking giggling. Not like he was laughing at Spencer or anything, not that. More like… joy? It had felt different to really hurting Ryan, it had been fun to listen to all those little breathless gasps and moans and to watch Ryan squirming in his lap and…
“So what you’re saying is it got everyone off a lot?” Shane passes him a joint with a devious grin and Spencer just can’t even begin to pull off denial right now, so he grins back and mumbles: “Brendon for one didn’t seem to mind the floor show.” Shane laughs. “Dude, you don’t even know. There are legends, man. Legends.”
His eyes drift over to Brendon, Ryan and Jon over in the corner, huddled over their guitars. “Hey Bren, you down with me telling Spencer how you’re a slut for getting you ass beat?” Spencer dies. In fairness, though, Jon probably dies a little more. “Jesus Christ, guys. Some illusions?” he groans. Brendon just giggles. “Go all out. Maybe you could take turns.”
He beams at Ryan and they both collapse into a fit of laughter at the expression on Jon’s face. Spencer turns his attention back to Shane, cause fuck, he’s definitely ready to hear those stories.
“It’s kinda what got us started. There was this one night, Brendon had been out partying and he came back fucking hammered. I found him on the side-walk at like four in the morning, completely out. I dragged him inside and chucked him in the shower with all his clothes on to wake him up. He slept in the next day, he was still asleep when I got back from work, so I hauled him out of bed and over my knee.”
Spencer’s having a tough time concentrating on rolling the joint he’s started working on ages ago. Cause. Yeah.
Shane grins. “Exactly. I mean, it was hot. It really wasn’t meant to be, I’d never even thought about it like that, but.”
Spencer imagines Shane’s hand coming down on Brendon’s pyjama bottoms, imagines Brendon squirming and maybe pleading, imagines him promising he’ll be a good boy and. Yeah. He gets it. A whole lot.
“Christ”, he chokes out, feeling a little embarrassed cause it sounds exactly as turned on as he feels, but Shane’s still smiling. Apparently, he believes in sharing the love.
“If you were gonna join the fun man, just say the word.” Okay, Shane definitely believes in sharing the love. “Um.” He blinks stupidly. “Um. Fuck yeah.”
Spencer doesn’t quite follow just how Shane manages to talk Ryan and Jon into getting Tacos from someplace that’s half-way to Mexico, the guy’s got scary amounts of secret powers.
When they’re gone, he wraps himself around Brendon while Spencer puts some coffee on. They sit on the couch, Brendon melted against Shane, taking a drag from the joint Shane’s holding against his lips. Spencer’s staring down at his coffee, the part where he really can’t believe how this is his life kicking in as Shane suddenly just pulls his boy across his lap. Brendon wriggles around a bit to get comfortable, which, considering what’s about to happen, seems a pretty useless move. Shane brings his hand down in a slow, steady rhythm; following a random pattern and smiling every time Brendon bucks up to meet the stinging, echoing slaps.
Spencer takes a sip of coffee and his throat might be a little dry suddenly. A little more so when Shane says “told you he likes it,” and Brendon arches his ass up, moaning quietly.
Shane delivers two quick slaps to his boy’s thighs and Brendon stills, not moving at all as Shane picks up his cup and lights the joint again to take a couple of drags. The way Brendon’s just sprawled there, like it’s natural, like he wouldn’t want to be anywhere else doesn’t freak Spencer out as much as it maybe should. As much as it’s probably not normal or outright creepy or whatever, it looks like Brendon’s happy.
Shane’s watching him and he tries not to blush. “Spencer Smith, you need to fucking get that stick out your ass, seriously. He likes it. So fucking what?” Shane Valdez is a sneaky bastard in that he sometimes reads people like open books and just throws his findings back in their faces. He also smiles while he does that, so hating him for it is very difficult. Besides that, he also does sudden sexy too well.
“I could make him beg for it, Spence. You want me to?” His voice has dropped half a register and Spencer finds himself staring at Brendon on Shane’s lap and nodding, transfixed by the way Brendon is so totally still.
One of Shane’s hands is resting on Brendon’s neck and he tightens his grip slightly.
“You want this, Bren?” “Please.” The reply is quiet and Shane grabs Brendon’s neck harder. “You’re gonna have to do better then that, babe.” His other hand is cupped over Brendon’s ass and Brendon squirms slightly. “Please, Shane.” Shane grins at Spencer, who has kindly excused himself from the usual running commentary in his head, cause. Busy.
“Please what, Bren?” Brendon gives a long suffering sigh that has Shane almost splitting his face in a wide grin. “Beat my ass already. Jesus fucking please!”
Shane doesn’t. He just sits there, rubbing Brendon’s ass through the jeans and underwear. Brendon groans in frustration. “Shane, please?” He sounds less sure of himself suddenly, more desperate. He sounds about seven, Spencer thinks but Jesus, that thought’s gone quick cause that’s just plain creepy.
Shane has loosened his grip on Brendon’s neck and his trailing his hand through Brendon’s hair. The first slap comes down just the second Spencer is sure Brendon’s about to scream in frustration, quick and hard and purposeful, a far cry from the earlier playful swats. Brendon gasps, but he hasn’t got time to catch his breath before Shane carries on, not letting up until Brendon is seriously squirming in his lap.
“Stop moving or I’m taking your pants down”, Shane growls and Brendon bucks up violently in response. Shane shakes his head. “I love how much of a slut you are for this” he mumbles affectionately before making short work of the jeans and just pulling them down over Brendon’s hips without even having to undo the button.
Spencer probably really shouldn’t get off on the fact that Brendon’s wearing briefs. Like, white, tiny briefs. The kind of thing your mom would buy before you got a say in the matter and switched to boxers. It’s the creepy ten-year-old thing all over again.
Also, Brendon’s got an ass. Spencer knows this, of course. He stares at it from behind the drum-kit every show and people have held online polls on the matter and whatnot. But. Shane’s ministrations have left it slightly pink and it just. Curves. A lot.
It does another couple of things in the next few minutes that Spencer wants on tape very badly. It bucks and clenches and trembles and quivers and whatthefuck. Shane stops eventually, looking at Spencer and laughing openly. Which. Spencer would usually at least fake being offended.
“I almost feel sorry for Ryan, seeing your face right now,” Shane manages before just giggling stupidly. Brendon cranes his neck and cackles.
“Spence is so gonna have you for that, brat”, Shane remarks and very suddenly, he’s got a lap full of Brendon. A lap full of naked-below-the-waist Brendon, no less.
“Um.”
Shane’s kneeling in front of them now, one hand once again resting on Brendon’s neck. With the other one, he grabs Spencer’s wrist and just plants Spencer’s palm on his boy’s ass.
“You’re the drummer, man,” he smirks and Spencer just sits there for a moment, his hand cold against the warm, red skin of Brendon’s ass. Then, he pulls it back, delivering a first experimental slap that actually wasn’t meant to be all that hard. Brendon gasps and Shane grins. “Told you, you’re the drummer.”
Also, Spencer is apparently a creep cause this is… maybe not quite better then playing drums, but it’s a fucking close second. It’s… the noises Brendon makes and the way you can see the white imprint of your hand flushing pink and later red, the way the heat radiates from the skin, the way he chokes out choruses of “more” and “harder” and “justspencerplease” and the way that he changes the tune eventually, asking for Shane’s permission to come, please, and I can’t and Shane please, none of the syllables discernible the longer Shane keeps telling him no.
“You’re gonna be a good boy, Bren. No making a mess while you’re over Spencer’s lap, okay?”
“Pleaseshaneican’t. Can’t. Please.” Spencer stills for a moment, but Shane shakes his head quickly. “Keep going.” Spencer does. Brendon’s cheeks are clenching and quivering, bright red by now. It’s fucking hot. Spencer finds himself wondering if he could make Brendon cry from just this. It feels like it’s damn close, Brendon choking and whimpering and his cock leaking all over Spencer’s leg, soaking through the fabric of Spencer’s jeans.
“I’d have to punish you if you came without me telling you to Brendon, you realize that, don’t you?” Shane Valdez really is a devious bastard. Spencer can feel Brendon going rigid over his lap, he doesn’t come, but fuck, that was close. He lets his hand aim a bit lower, at Brendon’s burning thighs and those little helpless moans are most definitely worth it.
“What do you think I’d do, Bren? Maybe get Spencer to beat your ass every night for a week? Or for as long as it takes for you to learn not to shoot your load all over your friend’s pants? Maybe ask Ryan if he wants to watch?”
Spencer has a hard time not creaming his own jeans at Shane’s suggestions and Brendon… it’s fucking cruel to watch him struggle helplessly. It’s also insane amounts of hot.
“He’ll give you another ten, okay? Count them out. Don’t come before you’re done.” Brendon counts. Choked, trembling and desperate, but he counts. He comes before the last number tumbles off his lips with a ragged gasp, his whole body jerking with the intensity of his orgasm. Spencer grabs his ass roughly, squeezing and only letting go once Brendon goes completely limp. Eventually, he scrambles to his feet and collapses into Shane’s arms. Then, he smiles at Spencer, open and grateful. “Thanks, Spence.”
Spencer doesn’t know how many times he’s died today, but he adds the incident to the list. Also, he wishes Ryan would get his ass back here. Cause he is pretty sure driving across three states to get fucking Tacos could be turned into something Ryan should be punished for. He has a feeling there are gonna be lot of situations like that.
“It just kinda happened.” Shane giggles. “Yeah right. Spanking has that way of sneaking up on you. Come on, man. Details!” Spencer shrugs, the gesture at odds with the suppressed smile. “I just… he was fucking annoying.” Shane giggles again, nodding. It’s not hard to understand for anyone who has been around Ryan for more then a week that the guy can drive you up the wall.
“So I told him to shut up.” After listening to Brandon and Ryan arguing about a stupid fucking cartoon for three hours, but… beside the point. “He didn’t. So… it just kinda happened.” “What did he say?” Spencer’s still working on the not grinning thing and he’s still fucking it up.
“He didn’t. He just… well. He kinda got off on it. Like, you know. A lot.” He still remembers how Ryan just settled over his lap, arching his back and… fucking giggling. Not like he was laughing at Spencer or anything, not that. More like… joy? It had felt different to really hurting Ryan, it had been fun to listen to all those little breathless gasps and moans and to watch Ryan squirming in his lap and…
“So what you’re saying is it got everyone off a lot?” Shane passes him a joint with a devious grin and Spencer just can’t even begin to pull off denial right now, so he grins back and mumbles: “Brendon for one didn’t seem to mind the floor show.” Shane laughs. “Dude, you don’t even know. There are legends, man. Legends.”
His eyes drift over to Brendon, Ryan and Jon over in the corner, huddled over their guitars. “Hey Bren, you down with me telling Spencer how you’re a slut for getting you ass beat?” Spencer dies. In fairness, though, Jon probably dies a little more. “Jesus Christ, guys. Some illusions?” he groans. Brendon just giggles. “Go all out. Maybe you could take turns.”
He beams at Ryan and they both collapse into a fit of laughter at the expression on Jon’s face. Spencer turns his attention back to Shane, cause fuck, he’s definitely ready to hear those stories.
“It’s kinda what got us started. There was this one night, Brendon had been out partying and he came back fucking hammered. I found him on the side-walk at like four in the morning, completely out. I dragged him inside and chucked him in the shower with all his clothes on to wake him up. He slept in the next day, he was still asleep when I got back from work, so I hauled him out of bed and over my knee.”
Spencer’s having a tough time concentrating on rolling the joint he’s started working on ages ago. Cause. Yeah.
Shane grins. “Exactly. I mean, it was hot. It really wasn’t meant to be, I’d never even thought about it like that, but.”
Spencer imagines Shane’s hand coming down on Brendon’s pyjama bottoms, imagines Brendon squirming and maybe pleading, imagines him promising he’ll be a good boy and. Yeah. He gets it. A whole lot.
“Christ”, he chokes out, feeling a little embarrassed cause it sounds exactly as turned on as he feels, but Shane’s still smiling. Apparently, he believes in sharing the love.
“If you were gonna join the fun man, just say the word.” Okay, Shane definitely believes in sharing the love. “Um.” He blinks stupidly. “Um. Fuck yeah.”
Spencer doesn’t quite follow just how Shane manages to talk Ryan and Jon into getting Tacos from someplace that’s half-way to Mexico, the guy’s got scary amounts of secret powers.
When they’re gone, he wraps himself around Brendon while Spencer puts some coffee on. They sit on the couch, Brendon melted against Shane, taking a drag from the joint Shane’s holding against his lips. Spencer’s staring down at his coffee, the part where he really can’t believe how this is his life kicking in as Shane suddenly just pulls his boy across his lap. Brendon wriggles around a bit to get comfortable, which, considering what’s about to happen, seems a pretty useless move. Shane brings his hand down in a slow, steady rhythm; following a random pattern and smiling every time Brendon bucks up to meet the stinging, echoing slaps.
Spencer takes a sip of coffee and his throat might be a little dry suddenly. A little more so when Shane says “told you he likes it,” and Brendon arches his ass up, moaning quietly.
Shane delivers two quick slaps to his boy’s thighs and Brendon stills, not moving at all as Shane picks up his cup and lights the joint again to take a couple of drags. The way Brendon’s just sprawled there, like it’s natural, like he wouldn’t want to be anywhere else doesn’t freak Spencer out as much as it maybe should. As much as it’s probably not normal or outright creepy or whatever, it looks like Brendon’s happy.
Shane’s watching him and he tries not to blush. “Spencer Smith, you need to fucking get that stick out your ass, seriously. He likes it. So fucking what?” Shane Valdez is a sneaky bastard in that he sometimes reads people like open books and just throws his findings back in their faces. He also smiles while he does that, so hating him for it is very difficult. Besides that, he also does sudden sexy too well.
“I could make him beg for it, Spence. You want me to?” His voice has dropped half a register and Spencer finds himself staring at Brendon on Shane’s lap and nodding, transfixed by the way Brendon is so totally still.
One of Shane’s hands is resting on Brendon’s neck and he tightens his grip slightly.
“You want this, Bren?” “Please.” The reply is quiet and Shane grabs Brendon’s neck harder. “You’re gonna have to do better then that, babe.” His other hand is cupped over Brendon’s ass and Brendon squirms slightly. “Please, Shane.” Shane grins at Spencer, who has kindly excused himself from the usual running commentary in his head, cause. Busy.
“Please what, Bren?” Brendon gives a long suffering sigh that has Shane almost splitting his face in a wide grin. “Beat my ass already. Jesus fucking please!”
Shane doesn’t. He just sits there, rubbing Brendon’s ass through the jeans and underwear. Brendon groans in frustration. “Shane, please?” He sounds less sure of himself suddenly, more desperate. He sounds about seven, Spencer thinks but Jesus, that thought’s gone quick cause that’s just plain creepy.
Shane has loosened his grip on Brendon’s neck and his trailing his hand through Brendon’s hair. The first slap comes down just the second Spencer is sure Brendon’s about to scream in frustration, quick and hard and purposeful, a far cry from the earlier playful swats. Brendon gasps, but he hasn’t got time to catch his breath before Shane carries on, not letting up until Brendon is seriously squirming in his lap.
“Stop moving or I’m taking your pants down”, Shane growls and Brendon bucks up violently in response. Shane shakes his head. “I love how much of a slut you are for this” he mumbles affectionately before making short work of the jeans and just pulling them down over Brendon’s hips without even having to undo the button.
Spencer probably really shouldn’t get off on the fact that Brendon’s wearing briefs. Like, white, tiny briefs. The kind of thing your mom would buy before you got a say in the matter and switched to boxers. It’s the creepy ten-year-old thing all over again.
Also, Brendon’s got an ass. Spencer knows this, of course. He stares at it from behind the drum-kit every show and people have held online polls on the matter and whatnot. But. Shane’s ministrations have left it slightly pink and it just. Curves. A lot.
It does another couple of things in the next few minutes that Spencer wants on tape very badly. It bucks and clenches and trembles and quivers and whatthefuck. Shane stops eventually, looking at Spencer and laughing openly. Which. Spencer would usually at least fake being offended.
“I almost feel sorry for Ryan, seeing your face right now,” Shane manages before just giggling stupidly. Brendon cranes his neck and cackles.
“Spence is so gonna have you for that, brat”, Shane remarks and very suddenly, he’s got a lap full of Brendon. A lap full of naked-below-the-waist Brendon, no less.
“Um.”
Shane’s kneeling in front of them now, one hand once again resting on Brendon’s neck. With the other one, he grabs Spencer’s wrist and just plants Spencer’s palm on his boy’s ass.
“You’re the drummer, man,” he smirks and Spencer just sits there for a moment, his hand cold against the warm, red skin of Brendon’s ass. Then, he pulls it back, delivering a first experimental slap that actually wasn’t meant to be all that hard. Brendon gasps and Shane grins. “Told you, you’re the drummer.”
Also, Spencer is apparently a creep cause this is… maybe not quite better then playing drums, but it’s a fucking close second. It’s… the noises Brendon makes and the way you can see the white imprint of your hand flushing pink and later red, the way the heat radiates from the skin, the way he chokes out choruses of “more” and “harder” and “justspencerplease” and the way that he changes the tune eventually, asking for Shane’s permission to come, please, and I can’t and Shane please, none of the syllables discernible the longer Shane keeps telling him no.
“You’re gonna be a good boy, Bren. No making a mess while you’re over Spencer’s lap, okay?”
“Pleaseshaneican’t. Can’t. Please.” Spencer stills for a moment, but Shane shakes his head quickly. “Keep going.” Spencer does. Brendon’s cheeks are clenching and quivering, bright red by now. It’s fucking hot. Spencer finds himself wondering if he could make Brendon cry from just this. It feels like it’s damn close, Brendon choking and whimpering and his cock leaking all over Spencer’s leg, soaking through the fabric of Spencer’s jeans.
“I’d have to punish you if you came without me telling you to Brendon, you realize that, don’t you?” Shane Valdez really is a devious bastard. Spencer can feel Brendon going rigid over his lap, he doesn’t come, but fuck, that was close. He lets his hand aim a bit lower, at Brendon’s burning thighs and those little helpless moans are most definitely worth it.
“What do you think I’d do, Bren? Maybe get Spencer to beat your ass every night for a week? Or for as long as it takes for you to learn not to shoot your load all over your friend’s pants? Maybe ask Ryan if he wants to watch?”
Spencer has a hard time not creaming his own jeans at Shane’s suggestions and Brendon… it’s fucking cruel to watch him struggle helplessly. It’s also insane amounts of hot.
“He’ll give you another ten, okay? Count them out. Don’t come before you’re done.” Brendon counts. Choked, trembling and desperate, but he counts. He comes before the last number tumbles off his lips with a ragged gasp, his whole body jerking with the intensity of his orgasm. Spencer grabs his ass roughly, squeezing and only letting go once Brendon goes completely limp. Eventually, he scrambles to his feet and collapses into Shane’s arms. Then, he smiles at Spencer, open and grateful. “Thanks, Spence.”
Spencer doesn’t know how many times he’s died today, but he adds the incident to the list. Also, he wishes Ryan would get his ass back here. Cause he is pretty sure driving across three states to get fucking Tacos could be turned into something Ryan should be punished for. He has a feeling there are gonna be lot of situations like that.