FIC: Yeah, It's a Lot, Jon/Brendon, NC-17
Yeah, It's a Lot
Jon/Brendon, NC-17 for graphic sex, 2,300 words
Contains: Overstimulation, a bit of crying, dirty talk, a little hair-pulling, and use of the word "stop" that is immediately honored.
Thank you to boweryd for the awesome and speedy beta. You're pretty much the best ever for any and all porn input!
Brendon is terrible at dirty talk. Not just a little bad, but actually terrible. Jon tries, the first few times, not to laugh in Brendon's face, and the fact that Brendon is amazing at pretty much every other thing they've tried definitely helps.
But when Jon rides Brendon and can't comfortably bend down far enough to keep Brendon's mouth busy and keep a rhythm going, Brendon groans, "Yeah, baby, ride that dick," and Jon ends up bracing his hands on Brendon's chest, throwing his head back and laughing so hard he can't breathe.
Brendon comes, probably from the way Jon clenches around him while he laughs, but Jon's never seen Brendon come down so quickly, face red and frown firmly in place.
"What was that for?" Brendon asks, shoving at Jon, pushing him off. Jon's still hard, and he'd be more concerned about that if he weren't busy laughing at Brendon.
"Holy shit," Jon says as he gets his breath back. "Did you actually just tell me to ride that dick? That dick, like it's just some random dick that isn't attached to you! Dude, it's like you were transported into my bed from some really bad porn."
Brendon flushes darker and gets that shifty look that tells Jon he just hit the nail on the head. Jon leans over him, cupping Brendon's cheek and pushing Brendon's hair off his forehead until Brendon finally looks at him.
"Brendon," Jon says. "You cannot take anything you see in porn seriously. Like, you don't really think all women love sucking cock and being called dirty sluts, do you?"
"The girls in porn act like they do," Brendon mutters, and Jon has to kiss him, soften the blow when he puts both hands on Brendon's face and says, "You're such an idiot sometimes."
Brendon seems to be thinking, chewing on his bottom lip before he breaks into a smile that falls somewhere between smug and hopeful. "Then why don't you show me how dirty talk's supposed to be done?"
Jon wrinkles his nose. He's not particularly practiced at dirty talk -- it's not really his thing -- but he can't be worse than Brendon, he decides.
"Okay," he says with a shrug.
But if he's going to do this, he decides, he's also going to do something he is into.
"Let me just get this off," Jon says, stripping the condom off Brendon and giving himself an easy excuse to touch Brendon's cock.
If he were doing it any other time, he'd strip the condom off and get up to throw it away, giving Brendon a chance to clean up. This time, he tosses the condom onto the towel beside the bed and keeps touching Brendon. He smoothes a hand over Brendon's thigh, then rubs his thumb lightly over the head of Brendon's cock, slicking through Brendon's come as Brendon goes soft.
Predictably, Brendon squirms and bats at Jon's hand. "Stop that," he says. "You're supposed to be talking dirty to me."
Jon shakes his head and slides his thumb up the underside. "No way. If you're putting me on the spot, I get to do something I want to do."
Brendon quiets and stares at Jon expectantly, and it really is disconcerting to have Brendon waiting for him to say all the filthy stuff that he sometimes thinks but rarely voices.
Jon clears his throat and licks his lips, and the way Brendon's eyes drop to Jon's mouth helps, so Jon says, "You know why I like doing this, right? Why I like touching you after you've come?"
Brendon shakes his head and shudders when Jon wraps his fingers around Brendon's cock loosely and gives a little squeeze.
"I like watching you do that," Jon says. "I like making you writhe and go red and sweaty and mindless because it's too much. I like that you actually spread your legs wider instead of trying to make me stop.
"And," he continues, "You make these sounds, Bren. Jesus." Jon leans down and gives Brendon's cock a tiny lick. He blows over the slick skin and, without warning, takes just the head into his mouth, barely sucking, just tonguing him lightly.
Brendon's whole body goes taut and he cries out, "Ah!" subsiding into sweeter, smaller sounds that are edged with something like distress. Jon's cock gives a jerk, but he makes himself pull off and replace his mouth with his hand, thumb just barely tracing over Brendon's slit, back and forth, back and forth while he tries to think of what to say.
Brendon's head is thrown back, eyes closed, and his thigh is trembling under Jon's hand. Jon soothes his palm up and down the skin there, in time with his thumb over the head of Brendon's cock.
"That," Jon says finally, "is just almost my favorite part. I really do like it when you sound like that, overwhelmed. The only time you sound better is when I'm fucking you."
"Uhn," Brendon grunts, and Jon supposes that works as a response.
He should probably stop, but Brendon hasn't said the word yet and hasn't tried to make Jon stop, so Jon closes his hand fully around Brendon's cock and tugs, tight and unrelenting.
A sound that's closer to a sob than anything else tears out of Brendon, and his whole body jerks reflexively, curling in around Jon's hand.
"Ah-ah-ah!" Brendon cries with each tug, and it only takes a few moments before he's actually crying, tears leaking from the corners of his eyes and dampening his hairline. His body doesn't stop thrashing, and eventually he kicks Jon hard enough that Jon snaps out of it and lets go of Brendon.
Brendon lies there limply, chest heaving, and Jon can't resist leaning down and licking across Brendon's temple to taste the salt before he kisses him, shushing Brendon's shuddering gasps for breath.
"Fuck, Brendon. You sound... Fuck. So good. I know it's fucking sick, but I love it when you cry."
Brendon hiccups out another tiny sob and shies away when Jon lowers his hand back toward Brendon's dick.
"Shhh, it's okay," Jon says, and moves slower, like Brendon's a skittish animal. Brendon quiets when Jon smiles and pushes Brendon's hair back from his forehead affectionately. "Are you all right? Do you want me to stop?"
Brendon watches him for a long moment, eyes still shiny and wet, before he bites his lip and shakes his head. "Keep going," he says, and his lips quirk into a half-smile. "But don't forget the talking."
Jon laughs and leans in to kiss Brendon again. He slides his hand back to Brendon's cock just to feel the soft weight of it in his palm, then whispers into Brendon's ear, "You know what else I love? I fucking love feeling you get hard when you're in my mouth or in my hand. I mean, I like that any time, when it's the first time, too." He takes a breath, then confesses, "But I like it more when it's the second time. It takes longer."
He accompanies the words with a strong squeeze and tugs Brendon's cock once, then again, and Brendon squeezes his eyes shut tight and just fucking keens.
Then he's panting and squirming again, clutching at Jon's wrist almost like he's trying to make him stop, but he doesn't say it and doesn't still Jon's hand, so Jon keeps the rhythm, unforgiving. He just has time to say, "It's almost disappointing when I don't get to feel you get hard," before he feels the first hints of Brendon's cock starting to fill.
"I know I promised you dirty talk," Jon says, sliding down Brendon's body, "but I hope you'll forgive me." He takes Brendon into his mouth, all the way, and sucks at Brendon's cock, feeling it harden and lengthen in his mouth. He hums and another gasp falls from Brendon's lips, hips bucking.
Jon lets go of Brendon's dick to say, "Yeah, just like that. So good."
His dick aches from being hard for so long, while Brendon fucked him and now from seeing Brendon like this, but he pushes it to the back of his mind. It's not his main concern right now. Brendon's hands are gripping the sheets tightly, knuckles bone white, and Jon realizes how hard it must have been for him not to reach out and push Jon away yet.
The thought makes him smile up at Brendon, who's looking back with slightly glazed eyes. Brendon's face and chest are flushed dark, and his entire body is covered in sweat. "Fuck, you're amazing," Jon breathes.
He presses his forehead to Brendon's hip for a moment, trying to regain his composure, and Brendon's hand settles at the back of his neck, stroking uncertainly.
"I love this, love you like this," Jon says against Brendon's hip, and then he rubs his cheek against the skin there. His beard rasps over Brendon's skin, from his hip to the sensitive insides of his thighs, and Brendon gasps and just barely squirms.
Jon rests one hand carefully over Brendon's hip so he can hold him still, then drags his cheek up the length of Brendon's cock.
"Oh!" Brendon yelps, and suddenly both of his hands tighten in Jon's hair, pulling. Jon still manages to scrape his chin over the slick head of Brendon's cock before Brendon jerks at his hair hard and drags him away. His breath is shuddering violently, and Jon's never seen him look quite so wrecked.
"Do you like that or hate it?" Jon asks.
Brendon bites his lip. "I'm not sure," he says unsteadily. "It hurt, but... Just don't do it again tonight."
"Okay. Okay," Jon promises. When Brendon's fingers loosen in his hair, he lowers his head and licks over Brendon's thighs apologetically, soothing his tongue up Brendon's cock, too. He kisses the tip lightly and licks the precome off his lips before he takes Brendon's cock back into his mouth.
This time he moves purposefully, bobbing on Brendon's cock and sucking without teasing. Brendon moans and his hands go tight in Jon's hair again, but this time he's pulling Jon down instead of away, so Jon takes his hand away from Brendon's hip, letting Brendon push up and fuck into Jon's mouth. Jon figures it's the least he owes Brendon after all the teasing.
"Jon," Brendon chokes out, and Jon sucks harder, until Brendon's hips snap up and he comes down Jon's throat.
Brendon's hands fall from Jon's hair to his shoulders as his body goes liquid. Jon moves fast, pulling off so he can catch both of Brendon's wrists in one hand and hold them against Brendon's chest. Before Brendon's breath even starts to calm, Jon ducks back down to take Brendon in again, sucking and earning another jerk before Brendon’s cock starts softening.
Brendon makes a sound somewhere between a laugh and a sob, and his whole body starts twitching. He fights against Jon's grip on his wrists, and Jon knows, knows he has to stop.
He doesn't, though, just keeps sucking until Brendon's desperate sounds turn into words and he begs, "Stopstopstopstop, please, please!"
Jon pulls off then, gasping and watching the way Brendon's body sinks to the bed, going limp even as his chest hitches with each gasping breath. His dick is soft against his thigh, and Jon licks his lips and climbs to his knees, straddling Brendon's thighs. He finally grabs his own cock and starts jacking himself hard, past the point of going slow.
"Fuck, you're so responsive," Jon manages to gasp out. "You don't, uhn, have to talk dirty. Every sound you make is such a fucking turn-on."
Brendon's watching with half-lidded eyes, dark and sleepy. He'll be pliant for hours after this, too fucked out to even want to get out of bed, and Jon loves him like this.
When Brendon lifts a hand toward him, Jon pushes his hips forward, slowing his strokes and waiting for Brendon's hand to join his. That's not what happens, though.
Instead, Brendon digs his fingers into the meat of Jon's thigh, squeezing hard before he drags his fingernails all the way down to Jon's knee, leaving behind bright, raised scratches.
"Asshole," Brendon says, then slaps the inside of Jon's thigh hard, once, then again.
Jon grits his teeth and grunts, shooting over Brendon's stomach, one spurt landing on Brendon's spent cock.
He's panting as he comes down, and he can't take his eyes off that one spot of come. Brendon follows his gaze, then jerks his legs together, curling in on himself.
"Fuck you," he says. "Don't even think you're going to clean me up. You're not touching my dick again for at least eight hours."
Jon laughs sheepishly, because yeah, he'd been thinking about it. "What about the rest of you?" he asks.
"You can touch me here," Brendon says, pointing at his mouth.
Jon maneuvers himself to lie next to Brendon, carefully not touching him until Brendon purses his lips, and then he kisses Brendon chastely. It doesn't stay chaste for long, and when Jon pulls back to catch his breath, Brendon reaches for him and strokes his cheek.
"Stupid fucking beard," he says, tugging at it lightly.
"Oh, you love it," Jon says. He settles closer to Brendon, then asks, "So I know I got distracted, but what did you think of the dirty talk lesson?"
Brendon screws up his face in faux thoughtfulness. "You know, I'm not sure I caught all of it. I was awfully distracted, too."
"You think you might need a refresher course sometime?" Jon asks.
"Sign me up, teach," Brendon says with a smile, and Jon kisses him again.
end
Jon/Brendon, NC-17 for graphic sex, 2,300 words
Contains: Overstimulation, a bit of crying, dirty talk, a little hair-pulling, and use of the word "stop" that is immediately honored.
Thank you to boweryd for the awesome and speedy beta. You're pretty much the best ever for any and all porn input!
Brendon is terrible at dirty talk. Not just a little bad, but actually terrible. Jon tries, the first few times, not to laugh in Brendon's face, and the fact that Brendon is amazing at pretty much every other thing they've tried definitely helps.
But when Jon rides Brendon and can't comfortably bend down far enough to keep Brendon's mouth busy and keep a rhythm going, Brendon groans, "Yeah, baby, ride that dick," and Jon ends up bracing his hands on Brendon's chest, throwing his head back and laughing so hard he can't breathe.
Brendon comes, probably from the way Jon clenches around him while he laughs, but Jon's never seen Brendon come down so quickly, face red and frown firmly in place.
"What was that for?" Brendon asks, shoving at Jon, pushing him off. Jon's still hard, and he'd be more concerned about that if he weren't busy laughing at Brendon.
"Holy shit," Jon says as he gets his breath back. "Did you actually just tell me to ride that dick? That dick, like it's just some random dick that isn't attached to you! Dude, it's like you were transported into my bed from some really bad porn."
Brendon flushes darker and gets that shifty look that tells Jon he just hit the nail on the head. Jon leans over him, cupping Brendon's cheek and pushing Brendon's hair off his forehead until Brendon finally looks at him.
"Brendon," Jon says. "You cannot take anything you see in porn seriously. Like, you don't really think all women love sucking cock and being called dirty sluts, do you?"
"The girls in porn act like they do," Brendon mutters, and Jon has to kiss him, soften the blow when he puts both hands on Brendon's face and says, "You're such an idiot sometimes."
Brendon seems to be thinking, chewing on his bottom lip before he breaks into a smile that falls somewhere between smug and hopeful. "Then why don't you show me how dirty talk's supposed to be done?"
Jon wrinkles his nose. He's not particularly practiced at dirty talk -- it's not really his thing -- but he can't be worse than Brendon, he decides.
"Okay," he says with a shrug.
But if he's going to do this, he decides, he's also going to do something he is into.
"Let me just get this off," Jon says, stripping the condom off Brendon and giving himself an easy excuse to touch Brendon's cock.
If he were doing it any other time, he'd strip the condom off and get up to throw it away, giving Brendon a chance to clean up. This time, he tosses the condom onto the towel beside the bed and keeps touching Brendon. He smoothes a hand over Brendon's thigh, then rubs his thumb lightly over the head of Brendon's cock, slicking through Brendon's come as Brendon goes soft.
Predictably, Brendon squirms and bats at Jon's hand. "Stop that," he says. "You're supposed to be talking dirty to me."
Jon shakes his head and slides his thumb up the underside. "No way. If you're putting me on the spot, I get to do something I want to do."
Brendon quiets and stares at Jon expectantly, and it really is disconcerting to have Brendon waiting for him to say all the filthy stuff that he sometimes thinks but rarely voices.
Jon clears his throat and licks his lips, and the way Brendon's eyes drop to Jon's mouth helps, so Jon says, "You know why I like doing this, right? Why I like touching you after you've come?"
Brendon shakes his head and shudders when Jon wraps his fingers around Brendon's cock loosely and gives a little squeeze.
"I like watching you do that," Jon says. "I like making you writhe and go red and sweaty and mindless because it's too much. I like that you actually spread your legs wider instead of trying to make me stop.
"And," he continues, "You make these sounds, Bren. Jesus." Jon leans down and gives Brendon's cock a tiny lick. He blows over the slick skin and, without warning, takes just the head into his mouth, barely sucking, just tonguing him lightly.
Brendon's whole body goes taut and he cries out, "Ah!" subsiding into sweeter, smaller sounds that are edged with something like distress. Jon's cock gives a jerk, but he makes himself pull off and replace his mouth with his hand, thumb just barely tracing over Brendon's slit, back and forth, back and forth while he tries to think of what to say.
Brendon's head is thrown back, eyes closed, and his thigh is trembling under Jon's hand. Jon soothes his palm up and down the skin there, in time with his thumb over the head of Brendon's cock.
"That," Jon says finally, "is just almost my favorite part. I really do like it when you sound like that, overwhelmed. The only time you sound better is when I'm fucking you."
"Uhn," Brendon grunts, and Jon supposes that works as a response.
He should probably stop, but Brendon hasn't said the word yet and hasn't tried to make Jon stop, so Jon closes his hand fully around Brendon's cock and tugs, tight and unrelenting.
A sound that's closer to a sob than anything else tears out of Brendon, and his whole body jerks reflexively, curling in around Jon's hand.
"Ah-ah-ah!" Brendon cries with each tug, and it only takes a few moments before he's actually crying, tears leaking from the corners of his eyes and dampening his hairline. His body doesn't stop thrashing, and eventually he kicks Jon hard enough that Jon snaps out of it and lets go of Brendon.
Brendon lies there limply, chest heaving, and Jon can't resist leaning down and licking across Brendon's temple to taste the salt before he kisses him, shushing Brendon's shuddering gasps for breath.
"Fuck, Brendon. You sound... Fuck. So good. I know it's fucking sick, but I love it when you cry."
Brendon hiccups out another tiny sob and shies away when Jon lowers his hand back toward Brendon's dick.
"Shhh, it's okay," Jon says, and moves slower, like Brendon's a skittish animal. Brendon quiets when Jon smiles and pushes Brendon's hair back from his forehead affectionately. "Are you all right? Do you want me to stop?"
Brendon watches him for a long moment, eyes still shiny and wet, before he bites his lip and shakes his head. "Keep going," he says, and his lips quirk into a half-smile. "But don't forget the talking."
Jon laughs and leans in to kiss Brendon again. He slides his hand back to Brendon's cock just to feel the soft weight of it in his palm, then whispers into Brendon's ear, "You know what else I love? I fucking love feeling you get hard when you're in my mouth or in my hand. I mean, I like that any time, when it's the first time, too." He takes a breath, then confesses, "But I like it more when it's the second time. It takes longer."
He accompanies the words with a strong squeeze and tugs Brendon's cock once, then again, and Brendon squeezes his eyes shut tight and just fucking keens.
Then he's panting and squirming again, clutching at Jon's wrist almost like he's trying to make him stop, but he doesn't say it and doesn't still Jon's hand, so Jon keeps the rhythm, unforgiving. He just has time to say, "It's almost disappointing when I don't get to feel you get hard," before he feels the first hints of Brendon's cock starting to fill.
"I know I promised you dirty talk," Jon says, sliding down Brendon's body, "but I hope you'll forgive me." He takes Brendon into his mouth, all the way, and sucks at Brendon's cock, feeling it harden and lengthen in his mouth. He hums and another gasp falls from Brendon's lips, hips bucking.
Jon lets go of Brendon's dick to say, "Yeah, just like that. So good."
His dick aches from being hard for so long, while Brendon fucked him and now from seeing Brendon like this, but he pushes it to the back of his mind. It's not his main concern right now. Brendon's hands are gripping the sheets tightly, knuckles bone white, and Jon realizes how hard it must have been for him not to reach out and push Jon away yet.
The thought makes him smile up at Brendon, who's looking back with slightly glazed eyes. Brendon's face and chest are flushed dark, and his entire body is covered in sweat. "Fuck, you're amazing," Jon breathes.
He presses his forehead to Brendon's hip for a moment, trying to regain his composure, and Brendon's hand settles at the back of his neck, stroking uncertainly.
"I love this, love you like this," Jon says against Brendon's hip, and then he rubs his cheek against the skin there. His beard rasps over Brendon's skin, from his hip to the sensitive insides of his thighs, and Brendon gasps and just barely squirms.
Jon rests one hand carefully over Brendon's hip so he can hold him still, then drags his cheek up the length of Brendon's cock.
"Oh!" Brendon yelps, and suddenly both of his hands tighten in Jon's hair, pulling. Jon still manages to scrape his chin over the slick head of Brendon's cock before Brendon jerks at his hair hard and drags him away. His breath is shuddering violently, and Jon's never seen him look quite so wrecked.
"Do you like that or hate it?" Jon asks.
Brendon bites his lip. "I'm not sure," he says unsteadily. "It hurt, but... Just don't do it again tonight."
"Okay. Okay," Jon promises. When Brendon's fingers loosen in his hair, he lowers his head and licks over Brendon's thighs apologetically, soothing his tongue up Brendon's cock, too. He kisses the tip lightly and licks the precome off his lips before he takes Brendon's cock back into his mouth.
This time he moves purposefully, bobbing on Brendon's cock and sucking without teasing. Brendon moans and his hands go tight in Jon's hair again, but this time he's pulling Jon down instead of away, so Jon takes his hand away from Brendon's hip, letting Brendon push up and fuck into Jon's mouth. Jon figures it's the least he owes Brendon after all the teasing.
"Jon," Brendon chokes out, and Jon sucks harder, until Brendon's hips snap up and he comes down Jon's throat.
Brendon's hands fall from Jon's hair to his shoulders as his body goes liquid. Jon moves fast, pulling off so he can catch both of Brendon's wrists in one hand and hold them against Brendon's chest. Before Brendon's breath even starts to calm, Jon ducks back down to take Brendon in again, sucking and earning another jerk before Brendon’s cock starts softening.
Brendon makes a sound somewhere between a laugh and a sob, and his whole body starts twitching. He fights against Jon's grip on his wrists, and Jon knows, knows he has to stop.
He doesn't, though, just keeps sucking until Brendon's desperate sounds turn into words and he begs, "Stopstopstopstop, please, please!"
Jon pulls off then, gasping and watching the way Brendon's body sinks to the bed, going limp even as his chest hitches with each gasping breath. His dick is soft against his thigh, and Jon licks his lips and climbs to his knees, straddling Brendon's thighs. He finally grabs his own cock and starts jacking himself hard, past the point of going slow.
"Fuck, you're so responsive," Jon manages to gasp out. "You don't, uhn, have to talk dirty. Every sound you make is such a fucking turn-on."
Brendon's watching with half-lidded eyes, dark and sleepy. He'll be pliant for hours after this, too fucked out to even want to get out of bed, and Jon loves him like this.
When Brendon lifts a hand toward him, Jon pushes his hips forward, slowing his strokes and waiting for Brendon's hand to join his. That's not what happens, though.
Instead, Brendon digs his fingers into the meat of Jon's thigh, squeezing hard before he drags his fingernails all the way down to Jon's knee, leaving behind bright, raised scratches.
"Asshole," Brendon says, then slaps the inside of Jon's thigh hard, once, then again.
Jon grits his teeth and grunts, shooting over Brendon's stomach, one spurt landing on Brendon's spent cock.
He's panting as he comes down, and he can't take his eyes off that one spot of come. Brendon follows his gaze, then jerks his legs together, curling in on himself.
"Fuck you," he says. "Don't even think you're going to clean me up. You're not touching my dick again for at least eight hours."
Jon laughs sheepishly, because yeah, he'd been thinking about it. "What about the rest of you?" he asks.
"You can touch me here," Brendon says, pointing at his mouth.
Jon maneuvers himself to lie next to Brendon, carefully not touching him until Brendon purses his lips, and then he kisses Brendon chastely. It doesn't stay chaste for long, and when Jon pulls back to catch his breath, Brendon reaches for him and strokes his cheek.
"Stupid fucking beard," he says, tugging at it lightly.
"Oh, you love it," Jon says. He settles closer to Brendon, then asks, "So I know I got distracted, but what did you think of the dirty talk lesson?"
Brendon screws up his face in faux thoughtfulness. "You know, I'm not sure I caught all of it. I was awfully distracted, too."
"You think you might need a refresher course sometime?" Jon asks.
"Sign me up, teach," Brendon says with a smile, and Jon kisses him again.
end