Beach Music 2B, Brendon/Gerard NC-17
Title: Beach Music 2B/12
Author: cloudlessclimes
Rated: NC-17
Pairing:Brendon Urie/Gerard Way
Disclaimer: This is purely a product of my diseased mind and has no bearing on reality what so ever, I own no one, I know no one.
Summary: Brendon Urie is and has always been a girl. She meets Gerard Way. Things happen.
Feedback: Is a wonderful thing.
Notes: HET!!, what can be perceived as uninformed consent, underage drinking, romance, fluff, Tom Conrad and Jon Walker are not the nicest people ever, AU, liberal abuse of canon; this fic contains all of these things. If they're not your things, don't read.
Title comes from a song of the same name by long defunct semi-obscure Canadian band The Watchmen. The odd and somewhat nonsensical lyrics can be found here
Thanks to the awesome queen_geek, tweedle_, fallingfortruth and lordgroovius for beta-ing, listening to me kvetch, holding my hand, and providing paperbags to breathe into, both virtual and actual.
1 2A 2B 3A 3B 4 5A 5B
The cab pulls up in front of the hotel and Brendon sighs happily, digging in her purse for a few bills that she smilingly puts into the cab driver's hand. The couple thanks him and, arms wrapped snugly around each other's waists, head into the hotel. They wait for the elevator, languid and content, and as the doors close Brendon smiles at Gerard and crooks her finger, "C'mere." Without waiting for him to move, she closes the space between them, and pins him in place with her hips. Her hands rest on the slight padding of his shoulders and she claims his mouth in a searing, urgent kiss.
When she draws back, Brendon's eyes are dark with desire, and Gerard blinks quickly, trying to catch his breath. The lethargic calm of just moments ago is replaced with a renewed urgency as Brendon's fingers weave a path along Gerard's arms and chest to his waist and then down further still, where she cups him over his dress pants. She teases at his balls and the softness of his cock before slinking down Gerard's body to her knees, eyes wide with mischief as she palms up Gerard's thigh to his zipper. "You ever fuck anyone in an elevator?" She nonchalantly stretches out an arm to poke at the red stop button on the panel beside the door.
The back of Gerard's head makes a low thump as he slumps against the mirrored elevator wall. "Shit, Brendon. You ever fuck anyone to death?" He grimaces when Brendon's fingers brush inside his underwear.
She quirks a smile at him, "Dunno. Don't think so. Never fucked anyone as old as you...how's your heart?" And her laugh puffs air over the sensitive head of Gerard's cock.
"Uhn, feels like it's gonna explode out my dick!" Gerard's hands squeeze at Brendon's bare shoulders before cupping her cheek and tracing against the flare of bone there with the pads of his thumbs. "Bren, Brendon. I don't know if..."
"I can make you hard." She runs her tongue tip along the ridge of vein at the underside of Gerard's cock, her pillow lips teasing at the slit with calm confidence.
His hands slide into Brendon's hair, not pulling or pushing, just resting, as he pants and groans. His cock twitches, eager to comply, and Gerard tries to breathe through the gorging of blood to his erection. "No doubt," he says in a low, deliberate voice.
Pleased with herself, Brendon wreaths her fingers to stroke down to the base of Gerard's hard on and cups his balls, her thumb rubbing over the thin skin as she takes him fully into her mouth. She can feel him, warm and silky, stiffening even more as she sucks and licks at the fragile skin. As she slides her lips forward, taking some of his rapidly hardening length down her throat, Brendon nudges her nose into the dark thicket of Gerard's pubic hair, slackening her lips to moan at the scent and feel of him. Saliva and precome dribble from the corner of her mouth and she spreads her knees, her hand coming up to stroke between her legs.
Her lashes are soot dark against her cheeks, and Gerard can't tare his eyes away from the amazingly hot, dirty sight of Brendon sucking his cock deep into her mouth as her hand echoes the motion underneath her skirt, her other hand sliding against his length. Brendon can feel him swelling under her touch, watches though feather-thick lashes as the fragile skin darkens. All the while Brendon's making breathy, pleased sounds and shifting her hips, while canting her lips in an encouraging smile. She slows the pace some, but Gerard can't help the forward stutter of his hips, the head of his cock glancing repeatedly off the back of her throat as he all but fucks her broad mouth.
He's rock hard and leaking now, trying to decide whether Brendon's mouth hurts too much or feels too good, then decides he can't actually get it together enough to decide, and just huffs and groans, flexing up from the waist and seeking out the glossy warmth of Brendon's mouth. "Uh, Bren..." Gerard's hands are still in her hair, and his fingers tighten as he feels the low level rumble of his orgasm--different from the flash-fire urgency of the previous one--tingling in his balls and spreading tendrils of warmth from the base of his spine.
"Uh uh uh," Brendon sucks harder, and the hand between her own legs appears and disappears with increasing rapidity, signalling her own completion. With that knowledge, Gerard gives in to the fever bright bite of his release, his cry loud in the small space of the wood panelled elevator, before spurting once and then again into Brendon's mouth. She raises her hands to pet and squeeze at the light dusting of hair on Gerard's fleshy thighs, swallowing reflexively. SHe makes a contented noise, licking at her lips and swirling the last of Gerard's come from around his cock when she pulls back, happily sprawled on the elevator floor, both hands braced on her thighs. "See? S'good. You still taste good." Her voice is husky, raw, her smile happy and almost smug, as she watches Gerard fight for breath. His vision clears enough to allow him to stoop, setting Brendon back up on the teetering heels of her sandals.
Brendon's arms slip around the softness of his middle, and she rests her cheek on his shoulder, petting and nuzzling, to soothe Gerard through the aftershocks. Brendon's humming under her breath as she kisses Gerard's chin, daintily tucking him back into his underwear and pants. She slaps at the elevator panel until they resume their assent, and she snuggles into Gerard again, ducking her head to rest at his shoulder, enjoying the feeling of his fingers stroking across the bare skin of her shoulders. The stop at the appointed floor and Brendon bounces on her toes, turning to exit into the corridor.
Gerard stumbles from the elevator, blindly following in Brendon's wake, his orgasm still snapping through his nervous system. He can't even focus enough to do his pants back up, just clutches the open flaps of his trousers in his fist. When they reach her hotel room he leans against the wall, trying to get all the pieces of himself that had flown apart to knit back together again, eyes closed, breathing through his nose. Brendon slips the key-card into the reader and circles Gerard's wrist with her thumb and forefinger, tugging him into the hotel room.
The door clicks softly shut and Brendon hugs Gerard to her, slanting her lips across his. "Mmm....I bet I can make you come again." She mutters into his mouth, open and slick with saliva and the taste of Gerard from their messy kissing.
Gerard winces at the stinging friction of her thigh between his legs. "Bren, Brendon. I'm not...I'm not twenty...I..."
She giggles, "But I am. And I bet I can!" She's walking them backwards into the hotel room, holding onto Gerard by the velvet lapels of his suit jacket, and kicking off her heels.
Splaying his fingers flat against the subtle rise of Brendon's shoulder blades, Gerard quirks an eyebrow and says, "You bet huh? What are the stakes?"
Settling down onto the bed, bringing Gerard with her, Brendon skin off his jacket. She smiles against his mouth and says, in a conversational tone, "I get off again, and you get to fuck me, again. Do we really need stakes?"
"You make a good point. However, you just sucked my brains out through my dick, like, five minutes ago...I don't know, honey. I want to," He kisses her, runs his thumbs beneath her eyes, before stroking just under her ears, slim fingers resting against the choker around her neck. "I really really want to, Brendon. I just dunno if..." Gerard trails off, making a frustrated sound at the back of his throat. "But, maybe it would be easier to, you know, try with, say, less clothes," Gerard leans up on his elbow to tug at the bodice of Brendon's dress.
Wrestling Gerard's hands out of the way, Brendon sits up and turns her back to him. "There's a zipper," she says coyly over her shoulder. She tucks her legs underneath her and leans back, inviting him to touch. "I know I can make you hard. Might take a little while, but I can do it. Better throat exercises than those stupid vocal warm ups Ryan always makes me do!"
Eyes mottled green and unfocused, Gerard quirks a smile although he's having trouble comprehending what Brendon's saying. "Mmmm," He lifts his hands to stroke across the smooth clear skin of Brendon's shoulders. "But you don't have to blow me, again. There's lots of...other things we can do, right?" He bows his head and presses soft kisses to the nape of her neck and down between her shoulder blades. Taking hold of the zipper, Gerard follows its path with his mouth as her skin is revealed. He spreads the sides and tugs gently until the garment is loose at her waist. Gerard's fingers are gentle on Brendon's lower back as he urges her up on to her knees, yanking the dress over her hips and down her legs. She turns to shirk the dress the rest of the way off, leaving it pooled on the floor. Gerard's eyes greedily take in her body, skin made soft and golden in the dim hotel room light. His hands stroke the dip of her waist, up across the firmness of her stomach to cup her breasts.
Brendon smiles and straddles Gerard's lap, pressing the two of them back onto the bed. She slides her hands along his arms, gentling them over his head, his knuckles brushing against the smooth polyester of the bed covers. "Hey there," she grates, lowering her face to Gerard's, kissing him slow and careful. "I think that someone may still be a little over dressed for the occasion."
"Yeah?" Gerard spreads his legs, nudging at Brendon's thigh. He wriggles his arm free and runs a hand back down Brendon's rib cage, resting it on her hip, then dipping his fingers beneath the lacy elastic waistband of her thong to cup one smooth cheek in his palm. "I'm pretty sure it's not you."
Gerard rolls free of Brendon, sitting up to toe off his shoes and socks, then shuffling off his pants, leaving them where they fall. He turns back to look down at Brendon, who's watching him through heavy lidded eyes, leaning back on her forearms. "Getting there," she whispers conspiratorially, tugging Gerard down to kiss him as her fingers slip loose the buttons of Gerard's shirt. When she goes to ruck up his undershirt, Gerard skims her hands down to his shorts, and he makes a funny swimming-kick motion to get his underwear down his legs and off. Brendon's hands are a gentle caress across the fleshy roll of Gerard's hips as she pulls him back flush against her.
Gerard's breath glances off the delicate ivory of Brendon's cameo when he ducks his head to feather kisses long the taper of her jaw. If he was in high school, Gerard would say they were making out. However, when he was in high school he didn't make out naked. Didn't make out with any curvy, beautiful, just really damn hot girls. Gerard definitely for sure never made out with completely naked, curvy, beautiful, just really damn hot girls. He had spent a lot of time camped out at second base. But this is real, Brendon is real. Thank fucking God it's not high school. His hands are stroking over her silken skin, fingers tracing the faint shapes of her freckles, and his mouth and tongue and teeth are teasing at Brendon's lips. In return Brendon is tracing her fingers along the length of Gerard's chest in gentle, unhurried patterns while her mouth meets his somnolently.
"Wanna kiss you," Gerard whispers into her mouth.
Brendon's lips curl up in a closed mouth smile before she answers, "Um, I think we have that covered."
His fingers card through her hair, cupping the fragile bones at the base of her skull, "I wanna kiss you, everywhere."
"Um, oh." Brendon's smile wobbles and her eyes are round with understanding. She inhales a shaky breath as Gerard moves to trail his mouth down her neck, over her collar bones and nips at her breasts, teasing at the dark aerolea with his tongue before sucking obscenely on the hard jut of her nipples. She closes her eyes against the oddly wonderful sensation of Gerard's hands and mouth and even his hair trailing slowly across her skin.
Hauling himself up onto an elbow, Gerard reaches for one of Brendon's long, narrow feet. For a moment she is concerned that he's one of those guys with a foot fetish, but he just brushes a thumb over the faded red indentations the straps of her sandals left behind, then kisses once at the high arch of her instep. Gently placing her foot back on the bed, Gerard continues to run his hands along her calf, lips and tongue tracing their way long the elliptical pull of muscle and sinew there. At her knees he rests his chin where Brendon's tilted them together. "Let me in?" His voice is hushed and desire dark.
Not speaking, Brendon nods, swallowing audibly but bringing her legs down flat to the mattress. Her hands are fisted curls in the sheets and she's licking her lips, the lashes of her closed eyes jumping against her skin. "Shhh, shhh," Gerard makes soothing noises as he shrugs her legs apart further to lay flat. His tongue comes out to trace shapes; stars and circles and secret things against the fragile flesh at the inside of Brendon's thighs. His hands stroke reassurance at her hips and he captures her between his lips, sucking forceably and rolling the slickness of her between his teeth. He hears her gasp and moan and smiles against her, encouraging. He finds her clit and alternates teasing feather-soft tongue tip licks with the burning scrape of his teeth. He breathes the scent of her, strong musk and soft spice, and arching his tongue into a point, plunges it inside of her.
Brendon can't stay still, her hands flit from Gerard's hair, tugging insistently, then to her own, ruffling the dark strands up in angry tufts. She skims down her body, teasing at her nipples, bucking at the sensations. Biting her lip to stifle her moans, before her mouth drops open in a huffing moue and she shouts, "Oh! Oh God. Gee...Gerard! What are you doing to me!!??!!”
"Apparently, making you come so hard you scream loud enough to wake the entire floor." Gerard rests his chin on the crest of Brendon's hip bone, quelling his laugh but unable to hide his vainglorious grin.
Brendon shoves weakly at his shoulder with her foot. "Fuck you. M'a singer. Six octave range, man." She mumbles into the arm she has stretched over her head, still clutching at the headboard.
Running his hands along her thighs, Gerard can feel the fine tremors still shaking through Brendon's system, "Just breathe, honey." He whispers as he turns his head to mouth at the curve of her hip, lips buzzing over her pale skin.
Chest heaving, Brendon opens her eyes and tilts her chin to study Gerard. His eyes are closed and he's almost reverentially bussing soft kisses and licks to the shallow pan of her stomach and the gentle definition of her ab muscles. His hips shift, jerky, against the bed spread. "You like that, huh?"
Still sucking wet kisses across her abdomen and licking at her navel, Gerard replies, "Yeah. Fuck, Brendon. You're, like, perfect." His tone is awed and full of worship.
"You could fuck it, if you want to." Brendon says, quietly.
His eyes snap up to the head of the bed, trying to grasp what it is Brendon has just said. "Huh?"
"My...my tummy. I mean if it turns you on so much." She's still panting for breath, and palms at her face, trying to calm her racing heartbeat.
"Fuck, you're like porn!" Gerard's voice is barely a whisper, like he's afraid of being caught doing something dirty. But he smiles at the word she's chosen to use as he crawls his way back up the bed, flopping down at Brendon's side, his face close to hers.
Brendon pulls away, studying Gerard, a mild, amused expression on her face. "Really? I've never, you know, actually seen porn. On principle. Well, at first it was because, you know we didn't have a TV til I was 14 and hello! Religious." Her hands skim over Gerard's chest, fingers tracing his nipples through the thin cotton of his t-shirt. "And then, well, teen age boys on a bus--lots of porn. I guess I felt I needed to...I dunno establish my feminist beliefs or something. I would always go to my bunk. I think they felt a little guilty to be watching it with me around. Sometimes they remember I'm a girl. But they never remembered, you know, headphones." Brendon's face cleaves into a huge, amused grin, as she drops her head back, writhing exaggeratedly as she says, "But it's really hard to hide the sound of Oh! Oh! Yeah! Oh baby!! Fuck me yeah!!." Her affected, porn star moans dissolve into giggles as she snickers and drops her mouth to the join of Gerard's arm and shoulder.
Gerard's cock does it's best to lumber to life between his stomach and Brendon's hip. "Uh...sure..."
Snorting one last time Brendon says, "Oh God. I'm like, the world's most unsexy dorkass..."
"That's not true, at all!" Gerard's fingers are firm in emphasis as he slides his hands over the indistinct ladder of her ribs. He ducks his head to nip at her ear lobe and then comments, "You're the only girl, hell maybe the only person I know who doesn't have her ears pierced. It's kinda hot."
Brendon stretches appreciatively under Gerard's touch, "Yeah, and dude, it's gonna stay that way. Holes? No thanks!"
"So no holes in your head, but a tattoo on your arm?" Gerard palms at her elbow, then tracing his fingers carefully along the thick lines of the piano keys that grace the outside of her forearm.
"Yeah, well. Ink under my skin wins! We all have our thing, I guess. Mine's to be a rock and roll cliche." Brendon rolls over on to her back, studying the splash of the bedside lamp across the stuccoed ceiling. "What about you? No tattoos? No piercings?"
"No needles!" Gerard replies emphatically, shuddering for effect. His eyes flit away from hers and he says, "Were you serious, about what you said...before?"
The dregs of her orgasm now only a slow fizz through her blood stream, Brendon licks at the bruised skin of her plump lower lip and nods, "Yeah. Yeah. I mean, if you want to. I think it'd feel good. And look hot. And...and I wanna see you...wanna watch." Her hand comes up to Gerard's face, fingers pressing at the sharp jut of his chin, her eyes searching his.
"You don't think that it's, I dunno, weird?" Gerard exhales slowly and brings his forehead to Brendon's shoulder, carefully brushing his lips over the faded bloom of the hickeys he'd put on her collar bone earlier that night.
"I want you to. I asked you to. I'm asking," Brendon kisses across the bridge of his nose, her lips coming to rest on his as she whispers fiercely, "I want you to fuck me, like that."
Gerard swallows a whine and grabs Brendon's face, crushing his lips to hers. His tongue fills her mouth and traces across her teeth. "Okay," he exhales heavily against her lips. "Okay." He leans away from her to slide down the bed, nudging her legs apart with an encouraging hand at her knees. "Okay," he says again, getting to his feet at the end of the bed. His tongue skitters over his dry lips as he attempts to figure out how to do this. This. Jesus. How to fuck Brendon's stomach--her tummy. "Umm, maybe..." grasp gentle, Gerard circles her ankle, bending her leg at the knee and placing her foot flat against the slippery acrylic of the comforter, then repeating the motions with her other leg.
Brendon's eyes are wide as she stares unblinking at Gerard. He can see the hitch and rise of her chest as she breathes, unsteady and nervous. Her legs are splayed wide and she's all slick pink and pale cream in the murky bed-side light. Swallowing loudly, and pinching the flesh inside his lower lip between his teeth, Gerard leans his weight into the mattress's edge, bowing his head to kiss at the sweet round of Brendon's bowed knee cap. "Okay," he says again, mentally wincing at the evaporation of his vocabulary.
"Okay," Brendon's smile is wobbly but encouraging, her fingers tangled in the bed clothes.
Gerard settles, his knees on the carpet, and tugs a little on Brendon's hips, bringing her ass closer to her ankles. "Thank God for yoga!" Brendon's nose wrinkles and her teeth are a neat row of white as she smiles wide.
Concern dims the green-hazel of Gerard's eyes, "Are you...I mean..."
Palming a shaky hand across her forehead Brendon nods slowly and whispers, "Yeah, yeah, just, just go on." She makes a flapping motion with her hand.
One hand still braced on Brendon's knee, feeling the twitch of her muscles under his fingers, Gerard takes his cock in the other, guiding himself between her legs, slicking through the wetness there. "Unf.." Brendon's lips part and as Gerard's dick slips over the smoothness of her pubic mound she squeaks and giggles, bringing her hand to her mouth.
"Fuck, this is stupid, right?" Gerard's eyes are wide and pleading.
Looking down her long body at Gerard's cock, half hard and dark against the olive skin of her belly, Brendon shakes her head, "No, no, sorry. Sorry. It's just, I wasn't expecting it to feel...uh. It sort of tickles." Curling up, she slants a kiss across the worried line of Gerard's frown. "Don't stop," she whispers before once more lying prone on the bed.
Gerard nods and pulls back, gripping her knee more tightly, then slides forward again with a careful buck of his hips. The head of his cock glances over Brendon's clit and she makes a startled, pleased noise, struggling to keep her eyes from closing and her hands reaching out, trying to touch him but not quite reaching. He's hard now, smearing a slick trail across Brendon's abdomen and into the dip of her navel. He gets a rhythm; how hard, how fast, just plain how. The snap of Gerard's hips traces his dick in a path between Brendon's legs and up to her belly button, again and again. Her thighs are taut and her calves flex as he strokes his hand down from her knee. He's bent forward, grunting under his breath and he can hear her softly chanting "yeah yeah yeah" under her breath.
Brendon's hand comes up, lazy, to pinch and stroke at the straining peaks of her nipples, as her hips buck to meet each of Gerard's glossy thrusts. He's watching her through the messy fall of his hair over his eyes, watching as his cock drags wet velvet across supple skin and leanly defined muscle, repeatedly glancing off her belly button and back again. She's burning beneath him, everywhere Gerard touches, everywhere she touches him. His balls brush against the bed linen and then against Brendon's inner thighs as Gerard increases the pace of his eager thrusting, trying to keep the roman candle buzz of his impending orgasm at bay.
Tilting her head to flick her sweat-soaked bangs from her forehead, a low lust-filled noise builds in the back of Brendon's throat as she watches Gerard's cock fucking between her legs and then across her belly. She comes then, a gentle whoosh of sensation in the pit of her stomach, spreading like warm honey through the cradle of her hips and lower. She gnaws on her bottom lip and brings a finger up to trace a chipped nail along the sensitive length of Gerard's erection.
"Fuuuuck!" Gerard groans out his orgasm, curling over Brendon and only keeping himself from collapsing on top of her because his hands are fisted in the bedspread and his thighs are pushing hard at the edge of the mattress.
Brendon's giggle filters through the heavy white noise in Gerard's brain. She wrinkles her nose and, inspecting the viscous splatters of white on her stomach, breasts, neck and chin says, "Now that's like, porn, I think And her tongue snakes out, licking past her full lips to swipe at Gerard's come. "Although I think my necklace may be ruined."
"Jesus," Gerard husks out a whisper and, bringing his knees onto the mattress, flops down beside Brendon. He palms across her torso, his fingers slipping through the mess he's made, rubbing it into her skin and taking the rest into his mouth. He kisses her then, the come on her tongue slipping against his. "Fuck, sorry," he whines. "Am I dead? I think I'm dead."
Purring against the slip-stick of Gerard's spunk Brendon runs her hand under Gerard's t-shirt, "Mmm...your heart’s still beating. So um...not dead. Yet." She snickers. "But, I did make you come, again. And? That was...So. Fucking. Hot." She punctuates her words with licks to Gerard's lips and fingers, before leaning her forehead against his and whispering, "No one's ever fucked me like that. You're amazing."
Wiping at her skin with the corner of the sheet, Gerard smiles and presses a light kiss to her mouth, "Yeah, I'm pretty much a big deal." He rolls onto his back, and wheedles them under the stiff hotel blanket, his arms still wrapped around Brendon. She burrows her head against the soft skin of Gerard's neck and throws her leg across his hip. Together, their laughter melts into the gentle, even sighs of their breathing, and then into sleep.
* * *
"Your brother doesn't like me very much," She says to the ceiling, apropos of nothing, sheet pulled up to her chin.
Gerard turns on his side to look at her, watery early morning sunlight spilling in where the drapes don't quite meet. He sighs and says "He's...Mikey's pretty overprotective. He thinks I'm like, fragile, or some shit. And that you're..."
"Trouble?" She smiles softly, rolling towards Gerard, their noses almost touching, "A party girl? Or maybe just your garden variety slut?" Her voice is low and her breath ghosts over Gerard's cheeks, her lashes fanning as he watches her blink.
His hand comes up to cup over top of the round of her hip, fingers bunching in the cotton, "You shouldn't talk about yourself like that." Gerard answers, equally softly.
Brendon shrugs, then, the sheet slipping low to reveal the swell of her breast. "I've heard it all before. It's okay. People think what they want. I do what I want..." She slips her fingers between Gerard's, lacing them together, warm against her skin, even through the bedding. She yawns, turning her face into the pillow they're sharing, "Everyone gets what they want from me, eventually."
Leaning up on his elbow, eyes wide, he asks "What do you mean?"
She laughs then, louder than she should and maybe sadder than she'd like, "Gerard, I'm just the girl in the rock show; I'm the pretty wrapping. Zack puts up with my bullshit because he gets paid to. Ryan keeps me around because this voice comes with these tits and ass. I got him the fuck out of Vegas. Spencer...he puts up with me because he loves Ryan. And Jon?" She laughs again, palming short tufts of hair off her forehead, "I used to think I was maybe a little bit in love with Jon Walker--because, really Jon Walker--but I'm pretty sure he hasn't forgiven me for the Audrey Incident."
Confusion knits Gerard's brows. His hand slides from hers, over the arch of her ribcage to cup lightly at her exposed breast. "God, I sound like a retard, but I don't understand."
Arching up into the gentle caress Brendon giggles and bites her lip. Gerard's hands are big and warm and his touch is not sexual or demanding, just...safe. "Right. So. I really need to get over myself and understand that the whole world is not all up in my business. Okay. The Audrey Incident...Audrey Kitching is, well, like a scene queen if you know what I mean?" Gerard nods and Brendon shuffles incrementally closer, until she's pressed along the full length of his body. "So, like, she was seriously into me. And I figured: sex, drugs, rock and roll, what the fuck ever, why not?" She smirks then as she sees Gerard's eyebrows climb to his hairline and his touch grows heavier against her. Brendon's quite sure that lesbian twin fantasies are dancing in his head. "And um...Jon? Sort of caught us." The tips of her ears are pink as she huffs a laugh into his t-shirt covered collar bone.
"Caught you?" Gerard's voice rises and Brendon laughs again, trailing her lips across the tendon in his neck and nuzzling behind his ear.
"Um, yeah. She, like, went down on me. Just once. And it was okay, but, like, weird you know? And Jon, well I was sort of with Jon’s best friend, Tom, at the time." She arches her back and makes a pleased groan at the sensation of Gerard's fingers teasing at her nipple as she talks. She sees confusion in the hazel green of his eyes and continues before he can ask, "I guess we were dating, as much as I've ever dated anyone." She raises her hand and cards her fingers through the dark whorls of his hair, her expression shifting to an almost apologetic smirk.
Gerard's hands stroke down Brendon's sides to cup her bottom and shift her more thoroughly on top of him. "Yeah, fucking fraternal loyalty, huh?" He whines a little as she slowly strokes her foot along his calf, tangling their legs together under the covers.
"Bros before hos." She snorts and rests her chin on Gerard's chest, enjoying the feeling of being petted.
"Hey!" Gerard says sharply. He narrows his eyes and brushes away strands of his hair that have fallen across her face.
"Aaaanyway," Brendon rolls her eyes. "So, yeah. Jon, got a free show. Didn't appreciate it though. And Tom, well. I guess I hurt him. I didn't mean to. He was," she takes a deep breath and smiles when Gerard kisses the tip of her nose, "I was, you know, innocent," she wriggles her hands free from between the warmth of their bodies and waves them over-dramatically, "before Tom. And I was kind of scared...and he wasn't...gentle."
Gerard stops suddenly where he's mouthing small kisses along her jaw. "What? He didn't hurt you...force you, did he?" He hugs her close, running his hands along her body as if to soothe away old hurts.
"Oh no! No. Not like that. It was just kind of confusing. And I got messed up, a little. Confused." Brendon stills Gerard's hands, and settles back into the mess of the bed covers. She tries not to be secretly pleased by the hint of possessive incredulity in his voice. "I just...I wish someone could like me for me, you know?"
"I like you for you." Gerard says it simply, without any trace of irony or humour. He bristles his hands through the short hair at the nape of her neck and squeezes gently.
"You're sweet." Brendon smiles, but it doesn't reach her eyes, then she shifts her legs to straddle Gerard, ducking her head to end the conversation with the slide of her lips over his.
* * *
"S'fer you." Gerard mumbles into her shoulder, holding the Sidekick to Brendon's ear.
Yawning jaw-popping wide, Brendon sniffs as she answers her phone, weaving her free hand through the oily strands of Gerard's hair. "Hello, this is Brendon."
"Where the fuck are you?" Brendon fumbles the phone away from her ear, Ryan's voice angry and startling on the other end.
"New York! Where the fuck do you think I am?" Brendon sits up, propping herself on the mess of pillows. Gerard's head slips from her shoulder to her ribcage and he nuzzles, sleep disturbed, before he flings his arm across her belly and resumes his soft snoring, slightly drooling, sleep.
"Jesus, Brendon! You were supposed to be back by now. We're supposed to be recording. You're supposed to be singing. We're all at the studio. Waiting. For you!" Any sign of inflection in Ryan's voice is a clear sign that he is furious.
Brendon blinks disoriented and stupid at her Sidekick. Shit. Shitshitshitshit. She'd overslept. Last night she'd forgotten to either set her alarm or arrange for a wake up call with the front desk staff. "I'm sorry, Ryan. I slept in. I'll be there as soon as I can." She shifts again, trailing her fingers along the light hairs of Gerard's arm before lifting her hand to scratch distractedly at a dry patch of skin on her forehead.
Ryan exhales an exaggerated, frustrated sigh into the handset. "Tell me you're gonna get your ass back here, ASAP! We agreed to do this together, as a band, live off the floor. Which I believe was your idea to begin with, and is pretty fucking hard to do. You know, without a singer!"
Snorting bitterly Brendon replies, "Excuse me for making a mistake, Mr. Passive Aggressive. I'll try to be less human in the future. Or else let your skinny ass fly across the country to be objectified by asshole photographers next time."
"And who the fuck answered your phone?"
"I'm hanging up now, Ryan. Why don't you guys just go ahead without me and we'll add vocals later? Wouldn't want you to waste your time or Pete's money because Oh Emm Gee!! Brendon made a mistake!!" Brendon ends the call and tosses her Sidekick down onto the bed beside her. "Shit," she mutters before untangling herself from the sheets and Gerard.
Rolling over to look at her, bleary-eyed and blinking, Gerard asks, "What's up?"
Brendon sighs, gathering clothes out of the Dior bag she's thrown onto the desk. "I overslept." Her long fingers tug at the tufts of hair rioting at the crown of her head. "By, like, a lot. And missed my flight back to Vegas."
"What time is it, anyway?" Gerard's voice is thick with sleep.
Picking up her phone and squinting at the display screen Brendon says, "Uh...eleven minutes after noon?" She blinks rapidly, attempting to clear the sleep from her contact lenses.
"Fuck! Seriously? I gotta...I gotta get back to Jersey, like an hour ago!" Gerard, suddenly and unmistakeably wide awake, launches himself from the warmth of the bed and scrambles into his boxer shorts.
A bemused look on her face, Brendon plucks Gerard's white button down from the chair back, shakes it out, and hands it to him. "Here, I gotta shower and then figure out a stupid fucking flight." She leans over the bundle of belongings in her arms to kiss Gerard's cheek.
Gerard's hand skids along the smooth skin of Brendon's arm, taking her hand. "Shit. I really gotta jet. Would it be really douche-y if I wasn't here when you get out of the shower?" his eyes are deep green, and glitter bright with worry.
Smiling, fond and affectionate, Brendon says, "Not at all. You have shit to do. I have shit to do. Like getting the fuck home so Ryan Ross can stop bitching. Really, it's fine; it's all there. Totally. Fine."
"Cool." Gerard pecks distractedly at the still kiss-stung fullness of Brendon's mouth while shrugging on the shirt she's handed him, then fumbling with the buttons. "I'll call you, okay?"
The laugh that escapes Brendon is very nearly a snort. "Oh God. People actually say that?"
"Un, yeah, I do. And I mean it, too." Gerard pauses in his search for his trousers.
"Fuck, you're cute." Brendon gnaws at her bottom lip, feeling the sting and fighting to keep from hugging Gerard, or herself in some pre-teen gesture of giddiness. "Uh, well, I’m just gonna…” and she makes a waving motion towards the bathroom.
Water just this side of too hot sluices over Brendon, and not for the first time in her life she wonders what the fuck she's doing. She never stays over; never sleeps with anyone. Anyone. Ever. But, her tired, overused muscles relax under the healing power of heat and steam, and as Brendon lathers a dollop of shampoo into her short hair she does an excellent job of convincing herself that last night was just a fun distraction after a shitty day. That's all.
And when she's sitting on the bed, wrapped in a terry cloth robe and dialing the airline, Brendon resolutely squashes any thoughts about looking for a flight late enough that she could head to New Jersey for an early dinner.
"Hi, I need to book the earliest flight to Vegas possible…Three this afternoon? That's awesome."
continue to 3A
Author: cloudlessclimes
Rated: NC-17
Pairing:Brendon Urie/Gerard Way
Disclaimer: This is purely a product of my diseased mind and has no bearing on reality what so ever, I own no one, I know no one.
Summary: Brendon Urie is and has always been a girl. She meets Gerard Way. Things happen.
Feedback: Is a wonderful thing.
Notes: HET!!, what can be perceived as uninformed consent, underage drinking, romance, fluff, Tom Conrad and Jon Walker are not the nicest people ever, AU, liberal abuse of canon; this fic contains all of these things. If they're not your things, don't read.
Title comes from a song of the same name by long defunct semi-obscure Canadian band The Watchmen. The odd and somewhat nonsensical lyrics can be found here
Thanks to the awesome queen_geek, tweedle_, fallingfortruth and lordgroovius for beta-ing, listening to me kvetch, holding my hand, and providing paperbags to breathe into, both virtual and actual.
1 2A 2B 3A 3B 4 5A 5B
The cab pulls up in front of the hotel and Brendon sighs happily, digging in her purse for a few bills that she smilingly puts into the cab driver's hand. The couple thanks him and, arms wrapped snugly around each other's waists, head into the hotel. They wait for the elevator, languid and content, and as the doors close Brendon smiles at Gerard and crooks her finger, "C'mere." Without waiting for him to move, she closes the space between them, and pins him in place with her hips. Her hands rest on the slight padding of his shoulders and she claims his mouth in a searing, urgent kiss.
When she draws back, Brendon's eyes are dark with desire, and Gerard blinks quickly, trying to catch his breath. The lethargic calm of just moments ago is replaced with a renewed urgency as Brendon's fingers weave a path along Gerard's arms and chest to his waist and then down further still, where she cups him over his dress pants. She teases at his balls and the softness of his cock before slinking down Gerard's body to her knees, eyes wide with mischief as she palms up Gerard's thigh to his zipper. "You ever fuck anyone in an elevator?" She nonchalantly stretches out an arm to poke at the red stop button on the panel beside the door.
The back of Gerard's head makes a low thump as he slumps against the mirrored elevator wall. "Shit, Brendon. You ever fuck anyone to death?" He grimaces when Brendon's fingers brush inside his underwear.
She quirks a smile at him, "Dunno. Don't think so. Never fucked anyone as old as you...how's your heart?" And her laugh puffs air over the sensitive head of Gerard's cock.
"Uhn, feels like it's gonna explode out my dick!" Gerard's hands squeeze at Brendon's bare shoulders before cupping her cheek and tracing against the flare of bone there with the pads of his thumbs. "Bren, Brendon. I don't know if..."
"I can make you hard." She runs her tongue tip along the ridge of vein at the underside of Gerard's cock, her pillow lips teasing at the slit with calm confidence.
His hands slide into Brendon's hair, not pulling or pushing, just resting, as he pants and groans. His cock twitches, eager to comply, and Gerard tries to breathe through the gorging of blood to his erection. "No doubt," he says in a low, deliberate voice.
Pleased with herself, Brendon wreaths her fingers to stroke down to the base of Gerard's hard on and cups his balls, her thumb rubbing over the thin skin as she takes him fully into her mouth. She can feel him, warm and silky, stiffening even more as she sucks and licks at the fragile skin. As she slides her lips forward, taking some of his rapidly hardening length down her throat, Brendon nudges her nose into the dark thicket of Gerard's pubic hair, slackening her lips to moan at the scent and feel of him. Saliva and precome dribble from the corner of her mouth and she spreads her knees, her hand coming up to stroke between her legs.
Her lashes are soot dark against her cheeks, and Gerard can't tare his eyes away from the amazingly hot, dirty sight of Brendon sucking his cock deep into her mouth as her hand echoes the motion underneath her skirt, her other hand sliding against his length. Brendon can feel him swelling under her touch, watches though feather-thick lashes as the fragile skin darkens. All the while Brendon's making breathy, pleased sounds and shifting her hips, while canting her lips in an encouraging smile. She slows the pace some, but Gerard can't help the forward stutter of his hips, the head of his cock glancing repeatedly off the back of her throat as he all but fucks her broad mouth.
He's rock hard and leaking now, trying to decide whether Brendon's mouth hurts too much or feels too good, then decides he can't actually get it together enough to decide, and just huffs and groans, flexing up from the waist and seeking out the glossy warmth of Brendon's mouth. "Uh, Bren..." Gerard's hands are still in her hair, and his fingers tighten as he feels the low level rumble of his orgasm--different from the flash-fire urgency of the previous one--tingling in his balls and spreading tendrils of warmth from the base of his spine.
"Uh uh uh," Brendon sucks harder, and the hand between her own legs appears and disappears with increasing rapidity, signalling her own completion. With that knowledge, Gerard gives in to the fever bright bite of his release, his cry loud in the small space of the wood panelled elevator, before spurting once and then again into Brendon's mouth. She raises her hands to pet and squeeze at the light dusting of hair on Gerard's fleshy thighs, swallowing reflexively. SHe makes a contented noise, licking at her lips and swirling the last of Gerard's come from around his cock when she pulls back, happily sprawled on the elevator floor, both hands braced on her thighs. "See? S'good. You still taste good." Her voice is husky, raw, her smile happy and almost smug, as she watches Gerard fight for breath. His vision clears enough to allow him to stoop, setting Brendon back up on the teetering heels of her sandals.
Brendon's arms slip around the softness of his middle, and she rests her cheek on his shoulder, petting and nuzzling, to soothe Gerard through the aftershocks. Brendon's humming under her breath as she kisses Gerard's chin, daintily tucking him back into his underwear and pants. She slaps at the elevator panel until they resume their assent, and she snuggles into Gerard again, ducking her head to rest at his shoulder, enjoying the feeling of his fingers stroking across the bare skin of her shoulders. The stop at the appointed floor and Brendon bounces on her toes, turning to exit into the corridor.
Gerard stumbles from the elevator, blindly following in Brendon's wake, his orgasm still snapping through his nervous system. He can't even focus enough to do his pants back up, just clutches the open flaps of his trousers in his fist. When they reach her hotel room he leans against the wall, trying to get all the pieces of himself that had flown apart to knit back together again, eyes closed, breathing through his nose. Brendon slips the key-card into the reader and circles Gerard's wrist with her thumb and forefinger, tugging him into the hotel room.
The door clicks softly shut and Brendon hugs Gerard to her, slanting her lips across his. "Mmm....I bet I can make you come again." She mutters into his mouth, open and slick with saliva and the taste of Gerard from their messy kissing.
Gerard winces at the stinging friction of her thigh between his legs. "Bren, Brendon. I'm not...I'm not twenty...I..."
She giggles, "But I am. And I bet I can!" She's walking them backwards into the hotel room, holding onto Gerard by the velvet lapels of his suit jacket, and kicking off her heels.
Splaying his fingers flat against the subtle rise of Brendon's shoulder blades, Gerard quirks an eyebrow and says, "You bet huh? What are the stakes?"
Settling down onto the bed, bringing Gerard with her, Brendon skin off his jacket. She smiles against his mouth and says, in a conversational tone, "I get off again, and you get to fuck me, again. Do we really need stakes?"
"You make a good point. However, you just sucked my brains out through my dick, like, five minutes ago...I don't know, honey. I want to," He kisses her, runs his thumbs beneath her eyes, before stroking just under her ears, slim fingers resting against the choker around her neck. "I really really want to, Brendon. I just dunno if..." Gerard trails off, making a frustrated sound at the back of his throat. "But, maybe it would be easier to, you know, try with, say, less clothes," Gerard leans up on his elbow to tug at the bodice of Brendon's dress.
Wrestling Gerard's hands out of the way, Brendon sits up and turns her back to him. "There's a zipper," she says coyly over her shoulder. She tucks her legs underneath her and leans back, inviting him to touch. "I know I can make you hard. Might take a little while, but I can do it. Better throat exercises than those stupid vocal warm ups Ryan always makes me do!"
Eyes mottled green and unfocused, Gerard quirks a smile although he's having trouble comprehending what Brendon's saying. "Mmmm," He lifts his hands to stroke across the smooth clear skin of Brendon's shoulders. "But you don't have to blow me, again. There's lots of...other things we can do, right?" He bows his head and presses soft kisses to the nape of her neck and down between her shoulder blades. Taking hold of the zipper, Gerard follows its path with his mouth as her skin is revealed. He spreads the sides and tugs gently until the garment is loose at her waist. Gerard's fingers are gentle on Brendon's lower back as he urges her up on to her knees, yanking the dress over her hips and down her legs. She turns to shirk the dress the rest of the way off, leaving it pooled on the floor. Gerard's eyes greedily take in her body, skin made soft and golden in the dim hotel room light. His hands stroke the dip of her waist, up across the firmness of her stomach to cup her breasts.
Brendon smiles and straddles Gerard's lap, pressing the two of them back onto the bed. She slides her hands along his arms, gentling them over his head, his knuckles brushing against the smooth polyester of the bed covers. "Hey there," she grates, lowering her face to Gerard's, kissing him slow and careful. "I think that someone may still be a little over dressed for the occasion."
"Yeah?" Gerard spreads his legs, nudging at Brendon's thigh. He wriggles his arm free and runs a hand back down Brendon's rib cage, resting it on her hip, then dipping his fingers beneath the lacy elastic waistband of her thong to cup one smooth cheek in his palm. "I'm pretty sure it's not you."
Gerard rolls free of Brendon, sitting up to toe off his shoes and socks, then shuffling off his pants, leaving them where they fall. He turns back to look down at Brendon, who's watching him through heavy lidded eyes, leaning back on her forearms. "Getting there," she whispers conspiratorially, tugging Gerard down to kiss him as her fingers slip loose the buttons of Gerard's shirt. When she goes to ruck up his undershirt, Gerard skims her hands down to his shorts, and he makes a funny swimming-kick motion to get his underwear down his legs and off. Brendon's hands are a gentle caress across the fleshy roll of Gerard's hips as she pulls him back flush against her.
Gerard's breath glances off the delicate ivory of Brendon's cameo when he ducks his head to feather kisses long the taper of her jaw. If he was in high school, Gerard would say they were making out. However, when he was in high school he didn't make out naked. Didn't make out with any curvy, beautiful, just really damn hot girls. Gerard definitely for sure never made out with completely naked, curvy, beautiful, just really damn hot girls. He had spent a lot of time camped out at second base. But this is real, Brendon is real. Thank fucking God it's not high school. His hands are stroking over her silken skin, fingers tracing the faint shapes of her freckles, and his mouth and tongue and teeth are teasing at Brendon's lips. In return Brendon is tracing her fingers along the length of Gerard's chest in gentle, unhurried patterns while her mouth meets his somnolently.
"Wanna kiss you," Gerard whispers into her mouth.
Brendon's lips curl up in a closed mouth smile before she answers, "Um, I think we have that covered."
His fingers card through her hair, cupping the fragile bones at the base of her skull, "I wanna kiss you, everywhere."
"Um, oh." Brendon's smile wobbles and her eyes are round with understanding. She inhales a shaky breath as Gerard moves to trail his mouth down her neck, over her collar bones and nips at her breasts, teasing at the dark aerolea with his tongue before sucking obscenely on the hard jut of her nipples. She closes her eyes against the oddly wonderful sensation of Gerard's hands and mouth and even his hair trailing slowly across her skin.
Hauling himself up onto an elbow, Gerard reaches for one of Brendon's long, narrow feet. For a moment she is concerned that he's one of those guys with a foot fetish, but he just brushes a thumb over the faded red indentations the straps of her sandals left behind, then kisses once at the high arch of her instep. Gently placing her foot back on the bed, Gerard continues to run his hands along her calf, lips and tongue tracing their way long the elliptical pull of muscle and sinew there. At her knees he rests his chin where Brendon's tilted them together. "Let me in?" His voice is hushed and desire dark.
Not speaking, Brendon nods, swallowing audibly but bringing her legs down flat to the mattress. Her hands are fisted curls in the sheets and she's licking her lips, the lashes of her closed eyes jumping against her skin. "Shhh, shhh," Gerard makes soothing noises as he shrugs her legs apart further to lay flat. His tongue comes out to trace shapes; stars and circles and secret things against the fragile flesh at the inside of Brendon's thighs. His hands stroke reassurance at her hips and he captures her between his lips, sucking forceably and rolling the slickness of her between his teeth. He hears her gasp and moan and smiles against her, encouraging. He finds her clit and alternates teasing feather-soft tongue tip licks with the burning scrape of his teeth. He breathes the scent of her, strong musk and soft spice, and arching his tongue into a point, plunges it inside of her.
Brendon can't stay still, her hands flit from Gerard's hair, tugging insistently, then to her own, ruffling the dark strands up in angry tufts. She skims down her body, teasing at her nipples, bucking at the sensations. Biting her lip to stifle her moans, before her mouth drops open in a huffing moue and she shouts, "Oh! Oh God. Gee...Gerard! What are you doing to me!!??!!”
"Apparently, making you come so hard you scream loud enough to wake the entire floor." Gerard rests his chin on the crest of Brendon's hip bone, quelling his laugh but unable to hide his vainglorious grin.
Brendon shoves weakly at his shoulder with her foot. "Fuck you. M'a singer. Six octave range, man." She mumbles into the arm she has stretched over her head, still clutching at the headboard.
Running his hands along her thighs, Gerard can feel the fine tremors still shaking through Brendon's system, "Just breathe, honey." He whispers as he turns his head to mouth at the curve of her hip, lips buzzing over her pale skin.
Chest heaving, Brendon opens her eyes and tilts her chin to study Gerard. His eyes are closed and he's almost reverentially bussing soft kisses and licks to the shallow pan of her stomach and the gentle definition of her ab muscles. His hips shift, jerky, against the bed spread. "You like that, huh?"
Still sucking wet kisses across her abdomen and licking at her navel, Gerard replies, "Yeah. Fuck, Brendon. You're, like, perfect." His tone is awed and full of worship.
"You could fuck it, if you want to." Brendon says, quietly.
His eyes snap up to the head of the bed, trying to grasp what it is Brendon has just said. "Huh?"
"My...my tummy. I mean if it turns you on so much." She's still panting for breath, and palms at her face, trying to calm her racing heartbeat.
"Fuck, you're like porn!" Gerard's voice is barely a whisper, like he's afraid of being caught doing something dirty. But he smiles at the word she's chosen to use as he crawls his way back up the bed, flopping down at Brendon's side, his face close to hers.
Brendon pulls away, studying Gerard, a mild, amused expression on her face. "Really? I've never, you know, actually seen porn. On principle. Well, at first it was because, you know we didn't have a TV til I was 14 and hello! Religious." Her hands skim over Gerard's chest, fingers tracing his nipples through the thin cotton of his t-shirt. "And then, well, teen age boys on a bus--lots of porn. I guess I felt I needed to...I dunno establish my feminist beliefs or something. I would always go to my bunk. I think they felt a little guilty to be watching it with me around. Sometimes they remember I'm a girl. But they never remembered, you know, headphones." Brendon's face cleaves into a huge, amused grin, as she drops her head back, writhing exaggeratedly as she says, "But it's really hard to hide the sound of Oh! Oh! Yeah! Oh baby!! Fuck me yeah!!." Her affected, porn star moans dissolve into giggles as she snickers and drops her mouth to the join of Gerard's arm and shoulder.
Gerard's cock does it's best to lumber to life between his stomach and Brendon's hip. "Uh...sure..."
Snorting one last time Brendon says, "Oh God. I'm like, the world's most unsexy dorkass..."
"That's not true, at all!" Gerard's fingers are firm in emphasis as he slides his hands over the indistinct ladder of her ribs. He ducks his head to nip at her ear lobe and then comments, "You're the only girl, hell maybe the only person I know who doesn't have her ears pierced. It's kinda hot."
Brendon stretches appreciatively under Gerard's touch, "Yeah, and dude, it's gonna stay that way. Holes? No thanks!"
"So no holes in your head, but a tattoo on your arm?" Gerard palms at her elbow, then tracing his fingers carefully along the thick lines of the piano keys that grace the outside of her forearm.
"Yeah, well. Ink under my skin wins! We all have our thing, I guess. Mine's to be a rock and roll cliche." Brendon rolls over on to her back, studying the splash of the bedside lamp across the stuccoed ceiling. "What about you? No tattoos? No piercings?"
"No needles!" Gerard replies emphatically, shuddering for effect. His eyes flit away from hers and he says, "Were you serious, about what you said...before?"
The dregs of her orgasm now only a slow fizz through her blood stream, Brendon licks at the bruised skin of her plump lower lip and nods, "Yeah. Yeah. I mean, if you want to. I think it'd feel good. And look hot. And...and I wanna see you...wanna watch." Her hand comes up to Gerard's face, fingers pressing at the sharp jut of his chin, her eyes searching his.
"You don't think that it's, I dunno, weird?" Gerard exhales slowly and brings his forehead to Brendon's shoulder, carefully brushing his lips over the faded bloom of the hickeys he'd put on her collar bone earlier that night.
"I want you to. I asked you to. I'm asking," Brendon kisses across the bridge of his nose, her lips coming to rest on his as she whispers fiercely, "I want you to fuck me, like that."
Gerard swallows a whine and grabs Brendon's face, crushing his lips to hers. His tongue fills her mouth and traces across her teeth. "Okay," he exhales heavily against her lips. "Okay." He leans away from her to slide down the bed, nudging her legs apart with an encouraging hand at her knees. "Okay," he says again, getting to his feet at the end of the bed. His tongue skitters over his dry lips as he attempts to figure out how to do this. This. Jesus. How to fuck Brendon's stomach--her tummy. "Umm, maybe..." grasp gentle, Gerard circles her ankle, bending her leg at the knee and placing her foot flat against the slippery acrylic of the comforter, then repeating the motions with her other leg.
Brendon's eyes are wide as she stares unblinking at Gerard. He can see the hitch and rise of her chest as she breathes, unsteady and nervous. Her legs are splayed wide and she's all slick pink and pale cream in the murky bed-side light. Swallowing loudly, and pinching the flesh inside his lower lip between his teeth, Gerard leans his weight into the mattress's edge, bowing his head to kiss at the sweet round of Brendon's bowed knee cap. "Okay," he says again, mentally wincing at the evaporation of his vocabulary.
"Okay," Brendon's smile is wobbly but encouraging, her fingers tangled in the bed clothes.
Gerard settles, his knees on the carpet, and tugs a little on Brendon's hips, bringing her ass closer to her ankles. "Thank God for yoga!" Brendon's nose wrinkles and her teeth are a neat row of white as she smiles wide.
Concern dims the green-hazel of Gerard's eyes, "Are you...I mean..."
Palming a shaky hand across her forehead Brendon nods slowly and whispers, "Yeah, yeah, just, just go on." She makes a flapping motion with her hand.
One hand still braced on Brendon's knee, feeling the twitch of her muscles under his fingers, Gerard takes his cock in the other, guiding himself between her legs, slicking through the wetness there. "Unf.." Brendon's lips part and as Gerard's dick slips over the smoothness of her pubic mound she squeaks and giggles, bringing her hand to her mouth.
"Fuck, this is stupid, right?" Gerard's eyes are wide and pleading.
Looking down her long body at Gerard's cock, half hard and dark against the olive skin of her belly, Brendon shakes her head, "No, no, sorry. Sorry. It's just, I wasn't expecting it to feel...uh. It sort of tickles." Curling up, she slants a kiss across the worried line of Gerard's frown. "Don't stop," she whispers before once more lying prone on the bed.
Gerard nods and pulls back, gripping her knee more tightly, then slides forward again with a careful buck of his hips. The head of his cock glances over Brendon's clit and she makes a startled, pleased noise, struggling to keep her eyes from closing and her hands reaching out, trying to touch him but not quite reaching. He's hard now, smearing a slick trail across Brendon's abdomen and into the dip of her navel. He gets a rhythm; how hard, how fast, just plain how. The snap of Gerard's hips traces his dick in a path between Brendon's legs and up to her belly button, again and again. Her thighs are taut and her calves flex as he strokes his hand down from her knee. He's bent forward, grunting under his breath and he can hear her softly chanting "yeah yeah yeah" under her breath.
Brendon's hand comes up, lazy, to pinch and stroke at the straining peaks of her nipples, as her hips buck to meet each of Gerard's glossy thrusts. He's watching her through the messy fall of his hair over his eyes, watching as his cock drags wet velvet across supple skin and leanly defined muscle, repeatedly glancing off her belly button and back again. She's burning beneath him, everywhere Gerard touches, everywhere she touches him. His balls brush against the bed linen and then against Brendon's inner thighs as Gerard increases the pace of his eager thrusting, trying to keep the roman candle buzz of his impending orgasm at bay.
Tilting her head to flick her sweat-soaked bangs from her forehead, a low lust-filled noise builds in the back of Brendon's throat as she watches Gerard's cock fucking between her legs and then across her belly. She comes then, a gentle whoosh of sensation in the pit of her stomach, spreading like warm honey through the cradle of her hips and lower. She gnaws on her bottom lip and brings a finger up to trace a chipped nail along the sensitive length of Gerard's erection.
"Fuuuuck!" Gerard groans out his orgasm, curling over Brendon and only keeping himself from collapsing on top of her because his hands are fisted in the bedspread and his thighs are pushing hard at the edge of the mattress.
Brendon's giggle filters through the heavy white noise in Gerard's brain. She wrinkles her nose and, inspecting the viscous splatters of white on her stomach, breasts, neck and chin says, "Now that's like, porn, I think And her tongue snakes out, licking past her full lips to swipe at Gerard's come. "Although I think my necklace may be ruined."
"Jesus," Gerard husks out a whisper and, bringing his knees onto the mattress, flops down beside Brendon. He palms across her torso, his fingers slipping through the mess he's made, rubbing it into her skin and taking the rest into his mouth. He kisses her then, the come on her tongue slipping against his. "Fuck, sorry," he whines. "Am I dead? I think I'm dead."
Purring against the slip-stick of Gerard's spunk Brendon runs her hand under Gerard's t-shirt, "Mmm...your heart’s still beating. So um...not dead. Yet." She snickers. "But, I did make you come, again. And? That was...So. Fucking. Hot." She punctuates her words with licks to Gerard's lips and fingers, before leaning her forehead against his and whispering, "No one's ever fucked me like that. You're amazing."
Wiping at her skin with the corner of the sheet, Gerard smiles and presses a light kiss to her mouth, "Yeah, I'm pretty much a big deal." He rolls onto his back, and wheedles them under the stiff hotel blanket, his arms still wrapped around Brendon. She burrows her head against the soft skin of Gerard's neck and throws her leg across his hip. Together, their laughter melts into the gentle, even sighs of their breathing, and then into sleep.
* * *
"Your brother doesn't like me very much," She says to the ceiling, apropos of nothing, sheet pulled up to her chin.
Gerard turns on his side to look at her, watery early morning sunlight spilling in where the drapes don't quite meet. He sighs and says "He's...Mikey's pretty overprotective. He thinks I'm like, fragile, or some shit. And that you're..."
"Trouble?" She smiles softly, rolling towards Gerard, their noses almost touching, "A party girl? Or maybe just your garden variety slut?" Her voice is low and her breath ghosts over Gerard's cheeks, her lashes fanning as he watches her blink.
His hand comes up to cup over top of the round of her hip, fingers bunching in the cotton, "You shouldn't talk about yourself like that." Gerard answers, equally softly.
Brendon shrugs, then, the sheet slipping low to reveal the swell of her breast. "I've heard it all before. It's okay. People think what they want. I do what I want..." She slips her fingers between Gerard's, lacing them together, warm against her skin, even through the bedding. She yawns, turning her face into the pillow they're sharing, "Everyone gets what they want from me, eventually."
Leaning up on his elbow, eyes wide, he asks "What do you mean?"
She laughs then, louder than she should and maybe sadder than she'd like, "Gerard, I'm just the girl in the rock show; I'm the pretty wrapping. Zack puts up with my bullshit because he gets paid to. Ryan keeps me around because this voice comes with these tits and ass. I got him the fuck out of Vegas. Spencer...he puts up with me because he loves Ryan. And Jon?" She laughs again, palming short tufts of hair off her forehead, "I used to think I was maybe a little bit in love with Jon Walker--because, really Jon Walker--but I'm pretty sure he hasn't forgiven me for the Audrey Incident."
Confusion knits Gerard's brows. His hand slides from hers, over the arch of her ribcage to cup lightly at her exposed breast. "God, I sound like a retard, but I don't understand."
Arching up into the gentle caress Brendon giggles and bites her lip. Gerard's hands are big and warm and his touch is not sexual or demanding, just...safe. "Right. So. I really need to get over myself and understand that the whole world is not all up in my business. Okay. The Audrey Incident...Audrey Kitching is, well, like a scene queen if you know what I mean?" Gerard nods and Brendon shuffles incrementally closer, until she's pressed along the full length of his body. "So, like, she was seriously into me. And I figured: sex, drugs, rock and roll, what the fuck ever, why not?" She smirks then as she sees Gerard's eyebrows climb to his hairline and his touch grows heavier against her. Brendon's quite sure that lesbian twin fantasies are dancing in his head. "And um...Jon? Sort of caught us." The tips of her ears are pink as she huffs a laugh into his t-shirt covered collar bone.
"Caught you?" Gerard's voice rises and Brendon laughs again, trailing her lips across the tendon in his neck and nuzzling behind his ear.
"Um, yeah. She, like, went down on me. Just once. And it was okay, but, like, weird you know? And Jon, well I was sort of with Jon’s best friend, Tom, at the time." She arches her back and makes a pleased groan at the sensation of Gerard's fingers teasing at her nipple as she talks. She sees confusion in the hazel green of his eyes and continues before he can ask, "I guess we were dating, as much as I've ever dated anyone." She raises her hand and cards her fingers through the dark whorls of his hair, her expression shifting to an almost apologetic smirk.
Gerard's hands stroke down Brendon's sides to cup her bottom and shift her more thoroughly on top of him. "Yeah, fucking fraternal loyalty, huh?" He whines a little as she slowly strokes her foot along his calf, tangling their legs together under the covers.
"Bros before hos." She snorts and rests her chin on Gerard's chest, enjoying the feeling of being petted.
"Hey!" Gerard says sharply. He narrows his eyes and brushes away strands of his hair that have fallen across her face.
"Aaaanyway," Brendon rolls her eyes. "So, yeah. Jon, got a free show. Didn't appreciate it though. And Tom, well. I guess I hurt him. I didn't mean to. He was," she takes a deep breath and smiles when Gerard kisses the tip of her nose, "I was, you know, innocent," she wriggles her hands free from between the warmth of their bodies and waves them over-dramatically, "before Tom. And I was kind of scared...and he wasn't...gentle."
Gerard stops suddenly where he's mouthing small kisses along her jaw. "What? He didn't hurt you...force you, did he?" He hugs her close, running his hands along her body as if to soothe away old hurts.
"Oh no! No. Not like that. It was just kind of confusing. And I got messed up, a little. Confused." Brendon stills Gerard's hands, and settles back into the mess of the bed covers. She tries not to be secretly pleased by the hint of possessive incredulity in his voice. "I just...I wish someone could like me for me, you know?"
"I like you for you." Gerard says it simply, without any trace of irony or humour. He bristles his hands through the short hair at the nape of her neck and squeezes gently.
"You're sweet." Brendon smiles, but it doesn't reach her eyes, then she shifts her legs to straddle Gerard, ducking her head to end the conversation with the slide of her lips over his.
* * *
"S'fer you." Gerard mumbles into her shoulder, holding the Sidekick to Brendon's ear.
Yawning jaw-popping wide, Brendon sniffs as she answers her phone, weaving her free hand through the oily strands of Gerard's hair. "Hello, this is Brendon."
"Where the fuck are you?" Brendon fumbles the phone away from her ear, Ryan's voice angry and startling on the other end.
"New York! Where the fuck do you think I am?" Brendon sits up, propping herself on the mess of pillows. Gerard's head slips from her shoulder to her ribcage and he nuzzles, sleep disturbed, before he flings his arm across her belly and resumes his soft snoring, slightly drooling, sleep.
"Jesus, Brendon! You were supposed to be back by now. We're supposed to be recording. You're supposed to be singing. We're all at the studio. Waiting. For you!" Any sign of inflection in Ryan's voice is a clear sign that he is furious.
Brendon blinks disoriented and stupid at her Sidekick. Shit. Shitshitshitshit. She'd overslept. Last night she'd forgotten to either set her alarm or arrange for a wake up call with the front desk staff. "I'm sorry, Ryan. I slept in. I'll be there as soon as I can." She shifts again, trailing her fingers along the light hairs of Gerard's arm before lifting her hand to scratch distractedly at a dry patch of skin on her forehead.
Ryan exhales an exaggerated, frustrated sigh into the handset. "Tell me you're gonna get your ass back here, ASAP! We agreed to do this together, as a band, live off the floor. Which I believe was your idea to begin with, and is pretty fucking hard to do. You know, without a singer!"
Snorting bitterly Brendon replies, "Excuse me for making a mistake, Mr. Passive Aggressive. I'll try to be less human in the future. Or else let your skinny ass fly across the country to be objectified by asshole photographers next time."
"And who the fuck answered your phone?"
"I'm hanging up now, Ryan. Why don't you guys just go ahead without me and we'll add vocals later? Wouldn't want you to waste your time or Pete's money because Oh Emm Gee!! Brendon made a mistake!!" Brendon ends the call and tosses her Sidekick down onto the bed beside her. "Shit," she mutters before untangling herself from the sheets and Gerard.
Rolling over to look at her, bleary-eyed and blinking, Gerard asks, "What's up?"
Brendon sighs, gathering clothes out of the Dior bag she's thrown onto the desk. "I overslept." Her long fingers tug at the tufts of hair rioting at the crown of her head. "By, like, a lot. And missed my flight back to Vegas."
"What time is it, anyway?" Gerard's voice is thick with sleep.
Picking up her phone and squinting at the display screen Brendon says, "Uh...eleven minutes after noon?" She blinks rapidly, attempting to clear the sleep from her contact lenses.
"Fuck! Seriously? I gotta...I gotta get back to Jersey, like an hour ago!" Gerard, suddenly and unmistakeably wide awake, launches himself from the warmth of the bed and scrambles into his boxer shorts.
A bemused look on her face, Brendon plucks Gerard's white button down from the chair back, shakes it out, and hands it to him. "Here, I gotta shower and then figure out a stupid fucking flight." She leans over the bundle of belongings in her arms to kiss Gerard's cheek.
Gerard's hand skids along the smooth skin of Brendon's arm, taking her hand. "Shit. I really gotta jet. Would it be really douche-y if I wasn't here when you get out of the shower?" his eyes are deep green, and glitter bright with worry.
Smiling, fond and affectionate, Brendon says, "Not at all. You have shit to do. I have shit to do. Like getting the fuck home so Ryan Ross can stop bitching. Really, it's fine; it's all there. Totally. Fine."
"Cool." Gerard pecks distractedly at the still kiss-stung fullness of Brendon's mouth while shrugging on the shirt she's handed him, then fumbling with the buttons. "I'll call you, okay?"
The laugh that escapes Brendon is very nearly a snort. "Oh God. People actually say that?"
"Un, yeah, I do. And I mean it, too." Gerard pauses in his search for his trousers.
"Fuck, you're cute." Brendon gnaws at her bottom lip, feeling the sting and fighting to keep from hugging Gerard, or herself in some pre-teen gesture of giddiness. "Uh, well, I’m just gonna…” and she makes a waving motion towards the bathroom.
Water just this side of too hot sluices over Brendon, and not for the first time in her life she wonders what the fuck she's doing. She never stays over; never sleeps with anyone. Anyone. Ever. But, her tired, overused muscles relax under the healing power of heat and steam, and as Brendon lathers a dollop of shampoo into her short hair she does an excellent job of convincing herself that last night was just a fun distraction after a shitty day. That's all.
And when she's sitting on the bed, wrapped in a terry cloth robe and dialing the airline, Brendon resolutely squashes any thoughts about looking for a flight late enough that she could head to New Jersey for an early dinner.
"Hi, I need to book the earliest flight to Vegas possible…Three this afternoon? That's awesome."
continue to 3A