The Science Of Selling Yourself Short | Spencer Smith/Jon Walker | 11,167 Words

[repulsive_x]

the science of selling yourself short
spencer smith/jon walker (past/unrequited: spencer smith/brendon urie, mentions of brendon urie/shane valdes) | nc-17 | 11,167 words
in which jon is brent's hot, older brother, and unknowningly takes spencer's virginity.
in other words, it's basically smut.

this idea basically came from one of those surveys they did back in the day, when spencer stated that 'brent's brother totally wants to do him' and that 'he kind of likes it'. at first i liked the idea, and was in fact, just going to write about spencer doing brents actual brother, but then i thought, hey, that's no fun and made his brother jon instead. :) title taken from less than jake, and thanks to ssuukkii for betaing.



Spencer has never been lucky when it comes to matters of the heart. Brendon says his problem is that he gives his heart out too easily, that he leaves it on a gold platter for anyone to take - and incidentally shatter - and he should know, after all, he’s one of them. Spencer doesn’t mean for it, not at all, but he’s sure he’s experienced far more heartbreak than any sixteen year old ever should.

Lisa Waterman was the first to start off the long chain of heartbreaks. She spent the better half of his first grade year being the object of his affections; he passed her notes, gave her presents he constructed heartily at craft time, traded his PB&J sandwiches for her bologna and mustard. In return, Spencer got a swift push into the rocks of the playground by Lisa herself, before she continued to steal his gummy worms and run off with Allan Simmons. After that, Spencer fretfully decided that girls just weren’t his thing.

However, Spencer was soon to find out that falling for guys was not that much better. There was a long list to follow after that; boys of all shapes and sizes as Spencer made his way up the grades. Sometimes they ended with a few taunts and threats once they caught Spencer staring at them a bit too long in the changing room, while the other good percentage of them weren’t even aware he existed. Spencer never gave up though, not once, a crush would end - sometimes horribly - and then he’d pick himself right back up and find another (“Hopeless romantic,” Brendon and Ryan call it, but Spencer prefers ‘a believer of love’)

The thing with Brendon came from nowhere; it hit him like a brick crashing through his windshield on a highway late at night. Brendon came from a very religious family, high members in The Church of Latter Day Saints. Spencer had heard it all growing up, heard the frustrations over his parents’ strict rules, their expectations. He watched the tears roll down his cheeks as he was stuck in something he never truly believed in. They were fourteen when it happened, when Brendon had suddenly leaned over during a game of Crash Bandicoot and kissed Spencer.

By then, Spencer had already come to terms with the fact that he was gay - had for years, even - but Brendon, on the other hand, was still fantasizing with Ryan and Brent what it would be like to kiss a girl, if Ashley Waters finally realized he existed. Spencer had done good with never looking at his friends in that way, never thought what it would be like to kiss them and always looked the other way when they changed, but sitting there on his bed, Brendon’s inexperienced tongue flapping around in his mouth, something inside his chest flared with want.

It went on for weeks, months even, until Spencer was certain that for once, someone finally felt the same way, and that it was Brendon at that; wonderful, funny, beautiful, silly Brendon. However, that was quickly crushed on a late day in September when Brendon had sat him down, took both hands in his and said, regretfully, “I’m sorry, Spin, but we can’t do this anymore. You’re my best friend, I don’t want to ruin that.” He had looked so torn over it, so guilty, that Spencer couldn’t do much else but feebly agree until Brendon was grinning again, throwing his arms around his shoulders as he exclaimed, “I knew you’d get it, Spencer!” Spencer had waited until he left before throwing his head under his pillow and cried and cried until he eventually passed out. In the morning he woke up with a throbbing headache, a broken heart and no Brendon.

Two years later, Spencer’s mostly over it. Sometimes though, he’ll look at Brendon, remember the feeling of his lips on his or his skin under his fingertips and want. He’ll want so bad that every inch of his body down to his toes will ache, and he has to pull himself away, take a breather and remind himself that never will Brendon be his. Sometimes, he’ll see the way Brendon looks at Shane, the way his eyes light up or the grin that spreads across his lips, the one that’s so large that sometimes Spencer worries his face might crack in half.

Sometimes, Spencer sees that and wonders why it couldn’t ever be him.

*

Here’s the thing, Spencer may or may not have a ridiculously, huge crush on Brent’s older brother. He has since the ripe age of thirteen, when he first saw Jon working on the ‘64 Camaro parked out in their driveway, sweat dripping down the smooth, tanned expanses of his back. Spencer may or may not, still get hard thinking about it.

Spencer’s found, over the years, that having a crush on your friend’s brother is never the easiest thing. Sure, there’s those mornings he’ll come into the kitchen in nothing but his boxers, or those times he’ll pass by his bedroom and spend the next five minutes imagining what it would feel like to be spread across his mattress, or those times he got to eavesdrop on his conversations with his friends, learning things about him that he never would have otherwise. However, that also means he has to overhear the drunken, middle of the night conversations where him and his friends drunkenly discuss what girl they hooked up with at the party. It means he has to suffer through Jon walking around shirtless all of the time but knowing he can never have. He has to go through his girlfriends, the constant reminder that all he is to him is just another one of his brothers annoying, little friends. He has to go through the constant side-swiping of the head, along with the yelling of, “Stop it, you fucking homo, he likes chicks!” whenever Brent catches him (for the hundredth thousandth time) looking at Jon a bit too longingly.

But this was all before the summer before junior year happened. It’s the cliché story of where he comes back from camp, a year older, baby-fat and acne free, with an inch or two added on to boot, and then, the object of his affections (Jon) suddenly notices him. Now, Jon’s always there, flirting; he’s brushing up against him, telling him his new shirt is a nice shade of blue and that it really brings out his eyes. And the thing is, Spencer’s flirting isn’t a complete disaster waiting to happen anymore - having mastered it at camp, after spending a great deal of time flirting consistently with the counselors. He’s good at the giggle, the round, innocent, doe-eyed look, the batting of the eyelashes, the swagger of his hips. Maybe Brent doesn’t quite agree with it (“That’s my brother, dude. That’s fucking sick”) but at least Brendon and Ryan are supportive. Well, kind of.

It’s weird for Spencer at first, never have gotten that kind of attention before, at least so much of it - not even from Brendon, and he spent a couple months worth fooling around in the confinement of his locked bedroom - and maybe a little over the fact that he’s spent the past three years of his life, thoroughly convinced that Jon was nothing less than utterly straight.

It’s a late day in November, and Spencer’s in the Walker’s basement, banging away on their drum-kit while Brent’s off in the washroom doing god knows what. Considering it’s been a good ten minutes since he first went in there, Spencer’s narrowed it down to either a) he’s taking a really long shit or b) he’s jacking off. Seeing as it’s Brent, Spencer’s really, really hoping for the former.

Spencer’s getting really into it, hair damp and sticking to the perspiration on his forehead, when all of a sudden Jon’s right there, leaning against the doorframe with his arms crossed over his chest, an amused smirk tugging at the corners of his lips. Spencer stops instantly, leaving the cymbal to ring out through the large rec room. Finally, it comes to a stop, and Jon says, “You play drums, huh?”

Maybe Spencer should take it in himself to feel the least bit insulted, seeing as he’s been playing drums at their house for years now, but then he reminds himself that as of three months ago, he didn’t even exist in Jon’s book. “It’s no big deal”, he shrugs.

“You sound pretty good.” He smiles as he pulls himself from the doorway, inching closer. “I play bass sometimes.”

Spencer, unlike Jon, has paid enough attention over the years to be fully aware of this. He cocks an eyebrow anyway, as sexily as he can muster, and goes, “Oh yeah?”

Jon nods, stopping just a few feet from where Spencer stands, hidden behind the drum-kit as he says, “So, you must have a pretty good sense of rhythm, huh?” Now it’s his turn to cock an eyebrow, and Spencer thinks, vaguely, that he pulled it off a whole lot better than he ever could.

Spencer chokes only slightly at the suggestion, breath caught in his throat, but he manages to get himself back on track, pulling himself back into the game as he leans forward, a mischievous smile on his lips. “Oh yeah,” he says, “so much rhythm.”

Jon smirks, clearly pleased by the answer, and Spencer is so ready for him to come over there and fuck him senseless already. Jon goes to open his mouth, hopefully to say something just as flirtatious, maybe ask him up to his room to fuck, but that’s when Brent decides to finally emerge from the washroom, cutting him off before he has the chance. He takes one look at Jon and goes, “Fuck off, pedo.”

Did Spencer mention that Brent ruins everything?

Jon’s smirk grows larger, more smug, as he says, eyes still heavy on Spencer, “See you later,” before heading back up the stairs, a certain swagger to his hips.

He stares up after him, drool pooling at his chin.

Brent takes a seat, pulls his bass back onto his lap, and says, “You guys are fucking sick.”

*

Spencer has come to terms with the sad realization that his friends are lame. Really fucking lame. Not even two o’clock in the morning, and they’re already passed out, snores ringing out through the large room. Spencer’s not even tired, not even a little, and he’s not quite sure what he’s supposed to do. There’s nothing on TV but a re-run of Cribs he’s seen at least a dozen times, and it’s not like he can start jamming out on the drums at this time either, so he’s left to sit in the dark while everyone in the house around him sleeps soundly. If he would’ve known this was going to happen he just would’ve stayed home and played World of Warcrafts all night - yeah, Spencer’s cool, he knows.

Five to two, after fifteen minutes of sitting there utterly bored and in the dark, he hears Brendon make a tiny snuffling noise from beside him, before he’s turning around to face him, still sound asleep, long eyelashes against pale skin. It’s instinct as Spencer’s eyes begin to sweep across Brendon’s features, peaceful and relaxed with pink lips slightly parted. It’s times like these when Spencer’s reminded he will never find anyone more beautiful than Brendon.

The thought of leaning forward to press their lips together - just lightly, just to see if anything changed - crosses his mind. He could probably get away with it too, he knows that, Brendon’s always been a deep sleeper.

Spencer jerks back once he realizes what had just been running through his brain, cursing himself repeatedly under his breath. He had been doing so well too.

He pulls himself from his sleeping bag, figuring being as far away from Brendon as possible right now might be for the better.

Spencer’s mostly over it, his feelings for Brendon that is, but there’s still that tiny part of him that will always look at him in that way, that will always ache for more. He’s gotten pretty good at ignoring it though, locking it away in the back expanses of his mind, but every once and awhile it will break out, attacking Spencer without much of a warning. It’s a constant relief though, that he’s finding each attack to come further and further apart; he’s hoping one day it’ll go away for good.

Spencer makes his way into the kitchen to get himself a glass of water, attempting to rid off the unwanted thoughts zipping through his mind. However, he’s quick to see, once he reaches the top of the stairs and into the well-lit kitchen, that he’s not the only one with the same idea.

“Hey,” Spencer says hoarsely, squinting against the sudden burst of light.

Jon looks up from where he’s dunking a cookie into a mug of milk, expression startled. It takes him a moment to realize who it is, however, before it’s taken over by an easy smile. “Oh, hey.” He motions to his cookie, and asks, “Do you want one?”

“No thanks,” he declines, shaking his head. He pulls his arms around his chest, holding close as he says, “How’s it going?”

“Pretty good,” he replies between mouthfuls of soggy cookie. Spencer allows his eyes to sweep over Jon, taking in the faded jeans with a rip in the left knee, the white, v-neck that clings in all the right places. He let his beard grow out, scruffy and just the right length, the way Spencer likes it, and his skin seems to almost glow under the artificial light. It’s times like these when Spencer will never fully understand how someone like him could come from the same parents as Brent’s. “Just came home from a party.”

“That’s cool,” he says, chewing onto his bottom lip as a rush of anxiety spreads through him, the realization that he’s alone with Jon at two o’clock in the morning while the rest of the house is asleep hitting him square in the chest. “I just came up for some water. They all passed out downstairs.”

Jon looks up at the clock, popping the rest of the cookie into his mouth, “Already?”

Spencer tries not to stare at the stray drop of milk that runs down his lip, stuck in the thought of licking it off himself, when Jon quickly catches it with a skilful flick of his tongue. Spencer dies a little inside. “Yeah,” he says, then laughs, a tiny squeak to it, “that’s what I said.”

“Well, I was just going to head up to my room to watch a movie,” he says, casually, but Spencer’s not blind, he can see the suggestion thick in his eyes. “You can join me if you want.”

Spencer feels the nerves twist in his belly as he stares up at Jon’s expectant eyes, and. And maybe he shouldn’t. Maybe the flirting was one thing, but this is different. Jon’s older; nineteen. He’s experienced, he’s going to expect things - obviously, he’s going to expect things with the way he’s looking at Spencer, eyes heavy with want - and sure, Spencer’s damn good at the talk but he’s not so sure he’s good at the performance. Plus, Jon’s his friend’s brother, that’s just. That’s wrong, isn’t it? But.

But, then again, this would be a good way to take his mind of Brendon, wouldn’t it? And, well, it’s not like he came all this way just to say no. “Sure,” Spencer nods, then smiles, tossing some hair out of his eyes with a flick of his head, “I’d like that.”

Jon puts the cookies back into the cupboard and grabs a water bottle from the fridge, tossing it to Spencer before he leads the way up the stairs to his bedroom. Spencer follows behind, eyes wandering over the expanse of his back, the curve of his ass, every heartbeat ringing loud in his eardrums.

When they reach his bedroom, Jon flicks on the light, and settles in front of his TV where a collection of DVD’s sit. “So, what did you want to watch?”

Spencer stands by his doorway, arms wrapped timidly around his chest as he gazes around Jon’s room, taking it all in. Spencer’s seen Jon’s room many times before, when he passed by it on the way to Brent’s bedroom and the door was open, but he’s never actually been inside of it, and standing here now, taking it all in, makes it that much more real to him.

Jon looks up at him expectantly, eyebrows raised, and Spencer realizes he still has a question to answer. “Um. I don’t mind. Whatever you want is fine.”

“You can sit down if you want.” Jon nods towards his bed, smiling warmly, before turning back to his DVD’s. Spencer takes a deep breath, and follows his advice, taking a cautious seat on the edge of his bed, nerves rapidly multiplying.

Jon settles on a movie, and pops it into the DVD player before getting back up to flick off the light. He crawls into his bed, next to Spencer, leaning his back against the wall for support. It’s a small bed, only a single, so the ends of his legs dangle off the bed. “Why don’t you come over here beside me?” Jon asks after a moment. “It’s more comfortable.”

Spencer looks over, hesitant, bottom lip fit snugly between his teeth. Through the dim light of the television, Spencer can see the outline of Jon’s lips, twitched upwards. His stomach does another flip, but he nods anyway, sliding back until his back hit’s the wall beside Jon, leaving a few inches between them.

Maybe this was a stupid idea after all. Maybe he should’ve just gone back downstairs. This is his friend’s brother, isn’t there a rule against this kind of stuff? Plus, he’s a virgin, terribly so, and Jon is so obviously not. And like, what if Jon tries something on him? He could handle that, kissing and stuff, but what about sex? Will Spencer be able to say no? Will he even want to?

Jon skips to the menu, and soft, ominous music fills the air around them. A picture of a black and white forest appears across the screen, along with the words The Blair Witch Project scrawled in red across the top. Spencer gulps, sliding further down the wall. Maybe he should’ve been more specific when Jon had asked what he wanted to watch.

Jon sneaks a glance at him from the corner of his eye, and asks, “You’re okay with scary movies, right?”

“Uh, yeah,” he lies, because there’s really no way in hell he’s going to admit to a hot, older, mature Jon that him, a sixteen year old boy, is actually scared shitless of scary movies.

Apparently, he’s a sucky ass liar, because an amused look spreads across Jon’s face as he pokes his side playfully. “Aw, it’s okay, I promise I’ll protect you from the scary witch.”

Spencer attempts a scowl, but it’s betrayed by his burning, red cheeks as he sinks further into himself. Jon presses play, and Spencer can see him watching him enticingly from the corner of his eye. He doesn’t dare look back.

The opening credits start, the same music from the menu playing softly in the background, and Spencer tries to devise a plan to get out of this now without coming across as a complete and total loser. He could say he’s suddenly feeling tired, and go running back downstairs to the safety of his snoring friends, but. But no. He has not been lusting after Jon for four years now to chicken out over something as stupid as a movie.

Fifteen minutes into the movie, and Spencer finds it’s not even really all that scary; actually, it’s even a little boring, to say the least. Spencer’s very aware of Jon’s breathing beside him, the heavy rise and fall of his chest, and Spencer watches him from the corner of his eye, the way his tongue darts across his bottom lip every few minutes or the way his eyes stay trained to the TV, like he’s never been so fascinated over something before in his life. And maybe, maybe Jon really did only want to watch the movie, maybe he wasn’t planning for something else, and that was all just Spencer’s wishful thinking. Yeah, that’s it. It must be, because if he really wanted something, he would’ve tried already, wouldn’t he? He would’ve at least looked at him again.

Spencer sighs, feeling the disappointment trickle down his spine. This is absolutely fucking fantastic, he thinks. He’s stuck watching some scary-ass movie that’s probably going to give him nightmares for the next week and counting, and he’s not even going to get anything out of it. He would’ve been better off staring at Brendon sleep until he passed out himself. God, his life sucks, who was he even kidding anyway? Why would a hot, nineteen year-old who has a life, friends, and goes to parties regularly want to get with someone like him? He’s obviously only messing with him for the amusement. Him and his friends probably all sit around and laugh while Jon tells them all the things his brother’s stupid friend did now.

They’re in the woods now, the three, very stupid kids on screen, and okay, so maybe it’s starting to get a little scary now. “You cold?” Jon asks, voice low and hoarse from beside him. Spencer jumps in fright over the unexpected voice, and Jon chuckles as he throws the blanket over both of them, covering their legs.

Spencer stares down at it, cheeks heating as he thinks, oh my god, I’m sharing a blanket with Jon. The same blanket. The same blanket that we’re both underneath. Oh god.

Spencer’s not exactly sure how much time passes, he’s too into the movie, too freaked out with the fleece blanket pulled up the way to his nose - he’s pretty sure he’s trembling too, and he hopes to god Jon doesn’t notice - when something goes brushing against his hip. Spencer goes flying at least five inches off the mattress, a tiny screech slipping from between his lips.

“Shh,” Jon whispers, his hot breath trickling down his neck, “it’s okay. It was just my hand. Sorry.” A hand moves to his thigh, and Spencer’s sure it’s only meant to be a quick, comforting pat, but a minute passes, two, and he doesn’t remove it.

Spencer’s breath hitches as he closes his eyes, counting to ten. He can feel Jon’s breath on his fucking neck, heavy and warm, soaking into his skin, and it makes Spencer’s cock twitch just the slightest bit inside his pajama pants. It doesn’t help that his hand is still on his thigh, just inches away from said cock, so close that he can feel the heat radiating off of it.

“If it’s that bad we can stop it, you know,” Jon remarks softly.

Spencer swallows, shaking his head. It is that bad, and he wants it to stop, but he sure as hell isn’t going to let Jon he can’t sit through a movie. “No,” he insists, “I’m fine.” Spencer’s concentration on the film is officially lost, but it still doesn’t stop him from letting out a high-pitched squeal when the background music suddenly changes, turning loud and sharp, moving straight through Spencer to the bones.

Jon chuckles, good-naturedly, and pulls himself up, hand slipping from Spencer’s thigh. “Okay, that’s enough.”

It takes everything in Spencer not to grab for him, pulling him back beside him while insisting, “No, it’s not enough! I’m fine, really!” God, why does he have to be such a fucking wimp? Why can’t he be like every other sixteen year-old boy that laughs over how cheesy movies like this are?

Jon reaches for the remote sitting on the bedside table and presses stop, leaving the room to fill with an eerie blue. He looks over at Spencer, smirking, “Shit, you really are scared, aren’t you?”

Spencer blushes, shaking his head vehemently. “No, I - ” he stops mid-sentence, knowing there’s no use.

Jon slides back to his previous position, this time closing the last few inches so their thighs are pressed flush together, but keeps his hand on his own lap. “Don’t worry about it. Not everyone’s a fan of horror movies.”

“Hmm. Yeah,” Spencer mumbles, absentmindedly. All he really wants is to get the fuck out of here, so he can wallow over the fact that he’s such a loser and just screwed up any chances he ever had with Jon.

“So, what do you want to do now?” Jon asks, lips pulled into a small smile.

Spencer gulps, feeling his chest flutter. “Um. It’s up to you… if you want I could just go back downstairs and - ”

“No, don’t do that.”

“Oh. Okay.”

Jon catches his gaze, and manages to keep it, eyes hooded and mouth parted. Spencer swallows, feeling a lump the size of his fist begin to form in his esophagus. “Would it be weird if,” Jon starts, slow, eyes flicking down to his lips, “I, you know, kissed you?”

Somehow, Spencer manages to give a small shake of his head. “Uh. N-No, I don’t think so.”

Jon smiles, and leans forward, closing the last couple of inches between them as he presses their lips together gently. Spencer can do this, he can, it’s just kissing and he’s done this before. It’s really no big deal, like, at all.

Spencer pushes into him, breaking just briefly before falling back into his mouth, lips parted, Jon's beard scraping against his skin. Jon moves his hand to his hip, gripping on tightly as he follows Spencer’s lead, taking his bottom lip between his teeth. He tastes like cookies and milk, and maybe just a trace of beer with something entirely different, and it’s the most wonderful thing Spencer’s ever tasted before.

Jon tugs him closer, practically pulling him on top of him, and Spencer takes the hint as he carefully maneuvers himself onto Jon’s lap, straddling his hips. Jon kisses him harder, tongue slipping into the contours of his mouth, and hands sliding up the front of his shirt, burning his skin.

Spencer shivers, and tries to push every self-conscious thought out of his brain and into the air. He knows he’s not fat, not like he used to be, but there’s still those extra rolls that curl over his belly, the ones that magically appear when he sits a certain way - like now. He sucks in his stomach the best that he can, while somehow still manages to kiss Jon just as diligently. He figures Jon can’t be too turned off, if minutes later he’s still running his fingers against the smooth skin of his belly, tongue lapping eagerly against his.

Jon pushes his t-shirt further up his stomach, past his chest until it bunches at his armpits. “Hey,” he murmurs into Spencer’s mouth after no reaction, “take it off?”

Spencer swallows, the nervous lump in his throat growing larger, but he puts his arms up anyway, allowing Jon to push it up and off the rest of the way. Spencer has never in his life been more thankful for dim light.

Jon’s mouth instantly falls to Spencer’s neck, teeth nipping at the sensitive skin. Before Spencer has a chance to stop it, a throaty moan pours out from between his lips. He flushes, the back of his neck prickling with embarrassment as Jon smirks smugly into his heat skin. He pulls his mouth away, giving himself enough time to slide his own shirt over his head, tossing it on the floor along with Spencer’s. He presses himself back against Spencer, bare skin hot against his, tongue surging back into his mouth, wet and dirty, and god, Spencer hasn’t been this turned on since - since. Well, never mind, he can’t be thinking about that now - or like, ever, mind you.

Spencer feels his skin begin to prickle once he realizes Jon’s lap is not entirely as comfortable as it was when he had first slid onto him, and that his own problem is growing rapidly in his PJ pants. Just as if he’s thinking the same thing, Jon jerks his hips up, grinding against Spencer’s ass, a breathy gasp coming from between his lips and disappearing into Spencer’s. “You’re so hot, you know that?”

Spencer blushes, so hard he swears his insides turn a dark shade of red along with his cheeks, and slides his hands up Jon’s toned stomach and chest. “I could say the same about you,” he manages to reply huskily.

Jon kisses him again, tongue fucking his mouth, causing Spencer to let out another tiny moan, muffled into the depths of his mouth. Jon pulls away, moving his lips to the skin just under his ear, sucking lightly. “I wanna fuck you,” he murmurs into his ear, hot breath staining his neck.

Spencer feels his heart lurch, plunging low into his gut. He chokes out a struggled breath through his mouth as Jon looks up at him, eyes half-lidded and swollen with lust. A part of Spencer’s brain is telling him that no, he’s a virgin, and that his first time cannot be hidden away in his friends older brother’s room, one he’s known his entire life but never really knew. The other part, however, the part soaked in hormones is screaming, yes, yes, yes! What are you waiting for?! After all, he is sixteen, turning seventeen in less than a month, and it’s not like everyone else his age hasn’t - Brendon, the one who was a fucking Mormon up until two years ago, even has. Plus, Jon is hot - so hot - and he’s been crushing on him for years now, so.

So, why not?

“Okay,” Spencer agrees into his lips.

“Okay?”

Spencer nods as Jon pecks a kiss to the corner of his mouth. “I want you to fuck me,” he replies, a little shakily.

Jon’s reply comes in the form of a kiss, wet and sloppy, before he’s hooking his fingers into the waistband of Spencer’s PJ pants, tugging them down over his hips. Spencer’s breath catches as he lifts his hips, allowing Jon to push them down further, until they bunch around his thighs, cock exposed and curving against his stomach. Jon kisses him harder, tongue tracing his bottom lip before he’s raising him off his lap and lowering him down onto the mattress, head cushioned into the pillows.

Spencer lifts his legs as Jon slides his pants off the rest of the way, past his knees, his calves, his feet, until they’re laying in a pile on the floor. Jon sits up, eyes sweeping hungrily over him, and Spencer’s positive he’s never felt so exposed or embarrassed in his whole entire life. His face streaks bright red, and it takes all that’s in him not to cover himself from Jon’s searching eyes. He reaches blindly for Jon’s belt instead, figuring it won’t be as bad as soon as he’s not the only one naked.

After a few suspended minutes of Spencer fumbling with his belt, Jon goes to help, leaving his pants and underwear halfway to his knees in a matter of seconds. He kicks them to the floor, and Spencer stares up at his exposed cock, mouth watering just slightly.

Jon smirks, lowering himself back onto Spencer as he mouths hotly around his jaw, and just as his mouth meets his again, he presses his hips into his, sliding their cocks together. Spencer moans, throwing his head back against the pillow, Jon’s mouth slipping from his, teeth knocking against his lip.

Spencer can count the number sexual experiences he’s had on one hand. The first being with Jenna Wolfe, when they kissed at one of their classmates thirteenth birthday party while playing spin the bottle - but that doesn’t even count. Then, there was Brendon; with him it involved tons of making out, a few rushed hand jobs and one sloppy blowjob. Lastly, the third time took place at camp that summer, when he had sunken to his knees in the fresh, forest soil, sucking off one of the counselors when they were supposed to be searching for wood for the bonfire instead. And that - well, that about summed it up, and now. Now, he’s about to have sex. With Jon. And just. Holy shit.

Jon sits up, reaching over into his bottom drawer of his nightstand, shuffling around the contents. When he comes back up, he’s got lube in one hand and a condom in the other, and the sight of it alone hits Spencer like a ton of bricks, making it all the more, terrifyingly real.

Jon nudges Spencer’s legs apart, settling in between them as he squirts lube onto the palm of his hand, rubbing it into his fingers. He leans down, mouthing at the skin where his hip meets his thigh as he taps at Spencer’s knee, waiting for him to get the hint and bend it, sliding it further up the bed.

He closes his eyes, trying to block out the fact that he’s buck-naked with a guy that’s far too perfect to even exist, face just a few mere inches away from his cock. All he can hope for is that the thoughts running through his mind aren’t too bad, that he isn’t too disgusted. Sure, he’s about to fuck him, but Spencer’s heard a lot of stories where guys fucked just about anything because they were horny enough. Spencer doesn’t want to be that ugly loser Jon laughs to his friends about on Monday morning.

Jon scrapes his teeth against his hipbone, hard enough to make a mark, and Spencer makes a scratchy noise from the back of his throat. At that moment, Spencer feels a wet finger poke at his entrance, circling, and before he has time to let it sink in properly, it’s pushing its way inside, past the tight ring of muscle.

Spencer’s done this to himself a few times before, he started small, only using a finger until he worked his way up to three. He’s always kind of liked the initial burn, the stretch, the first brush against that spot deep inside of him that left his eyelids fluttering and his hips arching off the bed sheets. He imagined this, some guy as hot as Jon (or even Jon, sometimes) doing this to him, getting him ready. But this is different. This isn’t his own fingers or a fantasy concocted in his mind; this time it is Jon and even after the first ten seconds, Spencer can already tell it makes the world of difference.

Jon twists his finger in further, past the knuckle, and Spencer finds himself pushing back into it. Jon moves his mouth over, over his belly as he presses patches of kisses to the sensitive skin, and Spencer inhales sharply, growing even harder as he continues to move further down until he’s mouthing at his cock. Spencer whines, low in his throat, and Jon smirks before taking an experimental lick at the head.

Spencer’s hand flies out to grip onto his neck, fingertips pulling at the ends of his hair. He attempts to breathe out evenly through his mouth, slowing his heartbeat, as Jon takes more of him in, continuing to twist his finger in and around before he’s pulling out and pushing in a second.

Spencer lets out a strangled noise as Jon’s tongue laps eagerly around his cock, and he pulls off, fingers still. “You have to be quiet,” he whispers, and Spencer stares down at him, transfixed on his mussed hair and swollen lips, “my parents are asleep down the hall.”

“Right,” Spencer replies hoarsely. He knew that.

Jon’s mouth finds its way back to his cock, fingers resuming. Spencer feels himself hit the back of Jon’s throat, and he doesn’t pull back, doesn’t gag, and it makes Spencer wonder how many guys have been before him. He shakes the thought away, knowing that if he thinks too far into it, he mind end up calling this whole thing off and he just can’t. He needs this to happen whether Jon talks to him after or not. It doesn’t matter to him anyway, Spencer’s never been one to value his virginity, not like Brendon - or more like how he wishes he had.

Jon thrusts his fingers up further, brushing against that spot deep inside of him, the one that leaves shocks shooting up his body all the way to his brain, causing fireworks to explode behind his eyelids. It occurs to him that maybe he should stop him while he still has the chance. After all, the few experiences Spencer did manage to rack up, really didn’t leave him with that much stamina.

It’s hard, god is it ever, but Spencer forces himself to tap on Jon’s shoulder while mumbling his name between pants. After a few more thrusts of his fingers and no reply, Spencer tries again, a bit more firmly, “Jon, hey. Maybe - Maybe you should stop. I might - yeah.”

Jon nods, and pulls off without any questions and Spencer couldn’t be more relieved; he’d rather not explain to him why he has such a sad lack of stamina. Jon removes his fingers, lubes them up again and then pushes them back in, except this time with another finger added, slow, slow, slow, until they’re in past the knuckles.

It doesn’t hurt, per se, Spencer’s always been pretty tolerant towards pain - that and the fact that he may or may not have done this to himself two days ago. It’s more uncomfortable, a dull burn spreading up his spine, but Spencer’s always liked this part, so he manages. He’s not positive, but so far he’s pretty sure he’s doing a good job at this whole not acting like a virgin thing. Maybe. He hopes.

Jon goes back to pressing feathery kisses along his stomach while Spencer tries not to fuck himself into his fingers. He’s ready - so, so ready - and for someone who’s not aware that he’s about to fuck a virgin, he’s certainly spending a lot of time to make sure Spencer’s prepared.

Jon spreads his fingers apart, stretching him wider, and Spencer bites back a groan. “Do you think you’re ready?” he asks, removing his mouth from his belly as he looks up at him.

Spencer nods feverously. “Yeah,” he says, and then repeats again, just to make it more real, “Yeah, I am.”

Jon pulls all three fingers out, and the sudden emptiness spills over him. Spencer makes a mental note that if they ever do this again, he really wouldn’t be opposed to letting Jon finger-fuck him until he came. That would be nice, he thinks.

Jon sits up on his haunches, reaching for the condom before ripping it open with his teeth and sliding it down onto his hardened cock. Jon’s not big, but he’s not small either, Spencer notes. His length is about average, but he’s a little thicker than most he’s seen; nothing he can’t handle though

Next, Jon squeezes a handful of lube into his palm, rubbing it into his cock, and Spencer watches with avid fascination, mouth watering with want. Spencer has less than a minute to back out, by the looks of it, and he doesn’t, goodbye to his virginity forever.

Jon leans down, lifting Spencer’s thighs to hook around his middle, and Spencer has never been so thankful that Brendon had forced him to watch episode after episode of Queer as Folk. Jon hoists himself above Spencer, elbows on either side of his head, and Spencer stares up at him with wide-eyes, hoping that his nervousness isn’t obvious through all the lust he’s sure is swimming around in his eyes.

“Just go slow, okay?” Spencer asks carefully.

“Yeah, of course,” Jon nods, before leaning down to press a quick kiss to Spencer’s jaw. “Just tell me if you want me to go faster or slower, or whatever.”

Spencer nods, and takes a deep breath as Jon picks his head back up, locking his gaze with Spencer’s. He aligns himself, and ever-so-slowly, begins to push inside. Spencer’s eyes fall shut as he squeezes them tightly together, attempting to breathe out evenly as Jon slides in deeper and deeper, and oh god, it burns so freaking much. Fingers have nothing on this.

“Are you okay?” Jon asks cautiously, stilling his hips.

Spencer nods quickly. “Yeah,” he mumbles. “Yeah, I’m fine. Go on.”

Jon doesn’t move for a second, and Spencer doesn’t open his eyes to see the expression on his face. He doesn’t want to know. Carefully, though, he pushes in further, gasping out labored breathes until Spencer feels his balls hit the back of his thighs and he knows he’s all the way in.

Spencer squeezes onto Jon’s shoulders, breathing out through his mouth, and it hurts, shit, does it ever, but he can handle this. He so can. Jon’s mouth is back on his jaw, pressing feathery kisses to it as he pulls out and pushes back in, a tad faster this time.

Spencer swallows, nose and the back of his eyelids stinging, and he is not going to let himself cry over this. It’ll be over soon enough and then Spencer can say that he’s done it. Never again can he say he’s a virgin, and he reminds himself, that every time after this will only get better.

Jon lets out a tiny noise from the back of his throat, before kissing his way back up to Spencer’s lips. He allows his tongue to fall into his mouth, sliding wetly against his as he murmurs, “Shit, Spencer, you feel so fucking good.”

Spencer nods, just barely, wishing he could say the same thing. Jon pulls out until just the tip is inside, then slides in again, this time angling his hips a little to the right. “Oh,” he gasps as a quick blast of pleasure shoots up his spine.

“Yeah?”

“Almost,” Spencer murmurs, opening his eyes a centimeter or two, enough to look up at Jon, sweating and panting above him. Spencer, is sure, that he has never seen something so ridiculously hot in his whole entire life. He wishes he could take a picture so he could keep the image with him forever.

The next time Jon thrusts in, it’s even more close, and Spencer reels back, another gasp spilling from between his lips. “Almost,” he repeats.

Jon pulls out, forehead wrinkled in concentration as he pushes back in. This time, Spencer doesn’t think it could be more on. “Oh god,” he mewls, tightening his grip on Jon’s shoulders. His eyes slip shut as a shock of pleasure ripples throughout him, more intense than he’s ever felt from measly fingers, and he knew there was a reason for this.

Spencer feels Jon smile against his skin, and he thrusts back inside, hitting it again. Spencer pulls Jon’s lips into his, kissing him hungrily as he pushes back into Jon’s cock. It doesn’t hurt nearly as bad anymore, if even at all, and Spencer couldn’t be more thankful.

A couple of thrusts later, once Spencer knows he’s okay, he pulls away from Jon’s lips, and breathes, “Faster. You can go faster.”

Jon nods, and pulls out before snapping his hips forward again, faster and harder than before. They moan in unison, and Spencer keeps his eyes locked with Jon’s as he sets up a steady rhythm, hitting that spot inside of him over and over and over again, and Spencer swears he has never felt this good in his entire life.

He wraps his legs tighter around Jon’s waist, arching into him to meet his shallow thrusts. Jon’s hands snake down his belly, towards his leaking cock to grip onto it, sliding his fist up and down to match his thrusts.

Spencer grunts, throwing his head against the pillow, and when he opens his eyes, Jon’s staring down at him, eyes hooded and thick with lust. “You’re really hot, you know that,” he murmurs for the second time that night, not breaking eye contact. “I don’t know how I didn’t notice you before.”

Spencer laughs, breathlessly. “I was ugly, that’s why.”

“I doubt it.” Jon ducks his head, teeth running along his collarbone, turning Spencer’s brain into mush before he has a chance to deny.

Spencer doesn’t see why everyone makes such a big deal over their first time. It barely hurt for long, and sure, while it feels amazing to have someone inside of you, closer to you than anyone else has ever been before, it’s still really no big deal, nothing to save yourself for years over. Either way, it’ll feel amazing, and that’s what counts, right?

Jon’s thrusts are becoming more rapid, along with the fist on his cock, and Spencer’s not so sure how much longer he can last. He knows it’ll be embarrassing if he comes already, Jon probably not even close himself, but he’s not sure there’s anything he can do to stop himself.

He’s breathing hard now, harder than Jon, and he can feel the need for release pooling in his gut, growing larger and larger with every thrust. “Jon,” he gasps, but says nothing else, hoping he’ll get the hint.

“Yeah,” he murmurs, kissing him hard and after a few, deep thrusts, Spencer can’t hold it in any longer as he’s letting go, coming all over his belly and Jon’s hand.

“Shit,” he breathes, pushing back into Jon’s cock as he rides out on it. He hopes to god he wasn’t too soon, that Jon isn’t thinking something along the lines of, already? What a fucking kid.

Jon pulls out, pulling the condom off and tying it before tossing it into the wastebasket next to his bed. Spencer lies boneless against the sheets, panting hard as the aftermath of his orgasm washes over him. He hurts already, he can feel the dull ache between his legs and he can just imagine how much worse it’s going to feel tomorrow.

Spencer manages to conjure up enough energy to roll onto his side and take Jon’s cock into his hands, knocking away his own, figuring he owes him as much. Spencer kisses his neck, sucking hard enough to make a mark, because if Jon never ends up speaking to him again, he wants to know he at least left something behind.

Jon lets out a tiny grunt, jerking his hips into Spencer’s hand, and surprisingly enough, it’s not long before he’s letting go all over Spencer’s hand. Spencer watches him as he does, the way his eyes slip shut, his forehead wrinkles, the hair that sticks against the sweat on his forehead; the way his mouth falls open, a slew of curses slipping softly from between his lips. Spencer was wrong before, this is by far, the most beautiful thing he’s ever seen.

Spencer presses his head against Jon’s sweat-slicked shoulder, breathing heavily as he takes in Jon’s sweet but musky scent. A moment passes, and his head clears, and it hits him that he just lost his virginity to his friend’s brother. It’s a for sure, not a maybe anymore, and it’s something Spencer will never be able to take back, no matter how hard he tries. He doesn’t regret it, not yet, but a small part inside of him is telling that he might one day.

“Fuck,” Jon breathes from above Spencer, snapping him from his thoughts. His hand moves to his side, running along his hip, and Spencer finds himself leaning into the touch.

“Mm-hmm,” he agrees.

They lay in silence, thought after thought racing through Spencer’s head, and finally, he lifts his head to glace up at the alarm clock sitting on Jon’s nightstand. It reads 3:32. “Maybe I should go back downstairs now,” he mumbles. He figures it’d be best if he excuses himself, saving Jon the trouble of doing it himself.

Jon sits up once Spencer slides over his legs, and onto the floor, sorting through the scattered clothes to find his. He tries not to wince over the throbbing in his ass. “Oh, yeah,” he says, scratching at his beard as he watches Spencer scramble around. “Sure.”

Spencer locates his bottoms, quickly sliding them over his legs, ignoring the mess still coating him, just wanting to make himself un-naked as fast as humanly possible. Next, he locates his shirt and quickly slides it over his arms, not checking to see if it’s inside or not. “Well, I guess I’ll um, see you around - ”

“Come here,” Jon says, sliding his legs over until they’re touching the ground. He reaches out, hands gripping at Spencer’s waist as he tugs him closer. Spencer stares down at him, confused. “I really enjoyed that,” he murmurs.

“Me too,” he replies, jerking his eyes from Jon’s, and focusing them somewhere around his chin.

Jon reaches up, grabbing for Spencer’s neck as pulls him forward, pressing their lips firmly together. Spencer’s not expecting it, so he freezes for a second, before carefully kissing him back, massaging his lips against his. It’s different than the others, more soft, focused, and it makes Spencer feel a little weak in the knees. If he didn’t know any better, he’d think it actually meant something.

When Jon pulls apart, he keeps his hand solid on the back of Spencer’s neck as he looks him in the eye, smiling. “I’ll see you tomorrow,” he whispers.

“Yeah,” Spencer mumbles before Jon’s hand slips from his neck and he pulls himself up to stand straight. “Bye.” He leaves the room without another word, feeling Jon’s eyes on him the whole way out.

When he gets downstairs, he goes straight for his sleeping bag, and only when he’s tucked inside does he realize Brendon’s awake, watching him with knowing eyes.

*

part two