sunsetmog_fics: (Default)
Title: The Holiday [12/?]
Author: [livejournal.com profile] sunsetmog
Fandom: Panic! at the Disco
Pairing: Brendon Urie / Spencer Smith
Rating: NC-17 overall
Word count: 4170 (this part)
Warnings: Sex without a condom.
Notes: Thank you to [livejournal.com profile] hermette for the beta. Any remaining errors are my own. For [livejournal.com profile] ohohstarryeyed.

Further notes can be found in part one. Also posted here at AO3.

Inspired by The Holiday. Sort of. Um.

Summary: It wasn't Brendon's fault that Spencer was in too deep, and he was stuck trying to find a way to keep his heart in one piece.


Previously: [I] [II] [III] [IV] [V] [VI] [VII] [VIII] [IX] [X] [XI].



Part Twelve

"You're quiet," Brendon said when they got back to the cottage. Spencer concentrated on unbuttoning his lurid purple coat and unwinding his scarf.

"Just thinking," Spencer said. He kept replaying vacation fling over and over in his head; it didn't make him feel any better. "Come on, I'm starving." They'd picked up Chinese food on the way home, a bag full of foil cartons with greasy cardboard lids. They'd kept Spencer's lap warm the whole way back from the street fair.

"I'll get plates," Brendon said, disappearing into the kitchen, hopping on one foot while he unlaced his boot. "You get a fire started and put something on the TV."

Spencer mock-saluted him in response, but not where Brendon could see. It wasn't Brendon's fault that Spencer was in too deep, and he was stuck trying to find a way to keep his heart in one piece. Secretly he knew he was way too far gone to emerge from this unscathed. He just hoped he could come out the other side with his band intact and his best friend, even if he couldn't have what he really wanted.

"Do you want beer?" Brendon called from the kitchen.

"Yeah," Spencer said, going down on his knees by the fireplace. The fire was already laid, thanks to Dave, and all he needed to do was light the kindling, which he did with a match from a box hidden inside a chipped commemorative Charles and Diana mug on the mantelpiece. He fanned the flame with a spare bit of kindling, trying to make sure the fire caught. A single flame licked at the edge of the kindling, and then split into two, then three.

He watched it for a moment before sighing and moving the fireguard back in place, dusting his hands against his knees. He turned around.

Brendon was in the doorway, carrying two plates, cutlery, and a four pack of beer. He was watching Spencer with a curious look on his face. It shifted into a more familiar smile when he caught Spencer looking.

Spencer smiled lopsidedly. "Fire's lit," he said and held his hand out for his share of what Brendon was carrying.

"We're fire masters," Brendon said, passing him a plate and a beer. "Did you pick out a video?"

"You pick," Spencer told him. He sat down on the couch and pulled the coffee table closer with one hand, putting his plate down on the table, and taking a long gulp of beer. He really fucking needed the beer. While Brendon was kneeling down by the VCR, Spencer took a moment to let out a long, shaky breath and rub his palms against his thighs, trying to stop them from sweating. He was so fucking screwed. He was so in love.

"There we go," Brendon said, standing up with the remote in his hand, pointing at the screen, and fast-forwarding through the trailers.

"Independence Day?" Spencer asked, raising an eyebrow and picking up the video box from the coffee table. He'd seen it before, so he didn't feel the need to read the blurb, dropping it down again. He reached for his plate and scooped up as many noodles as he could in one fork full. He wasn't hungry, but he supposed having something to do was a plan. He might get hungry half way through his plate, at least. He hadn't eaten in a while.

"Fuck yeah, America," Brendon said with a shrug. "It was either this or Mrs. Doubtfire."

"Huh." Spencer pushed his beef in black bean sauce around his plate, and fumbled in the greasy paper bag Brendon had dropped onto the coffee table for a prawn cracker. They'd come free with their order, and even though they looked like weird Styrofoam circles, he'd braved a taste and they were pretty fucking good. For shrimp chips. "Okay. It's weird they don't have fortune cookies here, isn't it?"

"I guess," Brendon said. The movie started playing in the background. "The last one I got said strength is built on inner character."

"I don't remember mine," Spencer told him. He did; it had said, love lights up your world. He'd laughed, and mocked, but right now it felt like the truth. The flipside, of course, was that getting your heart broken made all the lights go out.

"I loved this movie when I was a kid," Brendon said. He stabbed a sweet and sour battered pork ball and ate it lazily off his fork, not bothering to cut it up. "Haven't seen it in forever."

"Me neither," Spencer said, conscious of the fact that Brendon's knee was pressed up against his. He wanted to pull away, to go back to how things were, but he couldn't. If this was all they were going to get, then he wanted to savor every moment of it. He returned the pressure, all the while staring at the screen while the movie played.

He ate methodically, until his plate was mostly clean and nearly all the prawn crackers were gone. Brendon was still eating, a bottomless pit for food, just like always.

Almost without thinking, he put his plate down on the table and slid his hand over Brendon's knee, resting it there.

Brendon twitched and then he let out a breath and dumped his plate down on the floor, covering Spencer's hand with his own.

"Hi," he said. His smile was crooked.

"Hi," Spencer said. He smiled back, kind of lopsided. "I had fun today."

"It was a pretty good holiday date," Brendon said. He curled his fingers into Spencer's. "I liked it."

"Yeah," Spencer said, because he didn't exactly want to think too much about what had happened before, or what would happen afterwards, when they were back home in LA. He wanted to think about now. He reached up and brushed his thumb over Brendon's cheek, over the pale smattering of freckles across his cheekbone, down to the corner of his mouth. He stroked the pad of his thumb over Brendon's bottom lip. "You want to make out?"

Brendon smiled. "Yeah," he said. "Yeah, I really do."

Spencer nodded, and leaned in, covering Brendon's mouth with his own. He tasted warm and a little sticky from the sweet and sour sauce, and Spencer slid his hand into Brendon's hair to keep him close. Brendon nudged the two of them down onto the couch cushions, his hands sneaking under Spencer's shirt, warm in the small of Spencer's back.

It didn't matter what happened next week, or the week after, Spencer lied to himself, so long as he could have now.

~*~

Spencer wasn't sure exactly how long he and Brendon made out on the couch for, but it was long enough that food ended up seeming like a pretty long time ago. Their hair was mussed up, and their shirts pushed up, and what had started off lazy and easy was slowly shifting towards something a little more intense, a little more heated.

"I really want to fuck you in front of the fire," Brendon told him, hands in Spencer's hair, and Spencer could think of a thousand different things to say in response to that, but all he could manage was okay.

"Good," Brendon said, sitting up. He pulled his shirt over his head, and dropped it off the edge of the couch and onto the floor.

Spencer propped himself up on one elbow, and reached over with his hand to run his palm over Brendon's chest, pressing his thumb to Brendon's nipple. He just—he felt like he wanted to map out every inch of Brendon's skin, so that when they were back home and this was all in the past, he could remember it all properly.

Brendon hissed in a breath as Spencer kept on playing with his nipple, slowly rubbing it with his thumb as it hardened beneath his touch. "I was going to fuck you," he said breathlessly.

"I know," Spencer told him, leaning in and licking Brendon's nipple. "That's still going to happen."

Brendon slid his hands into Spencer's hair, his head tipping back as Spencer mouthed at his skin. He wanted to remember what Brendon tasted like. He wanted to remember what this felt like. It was as if he was trying to catalogue every touch and every taste so that he could hold it in his mind and have it be enough. Like if he had this fixed, it wouldn't matter that he and Brendon weren't a thing—that it was just a vacation fling.

"I want to fuck you," Brendon said again. He was holding Spencer close though, pressing kiss after kiss to Spencer's temple as Spencer kissed his way down Brendon's chest. "I've been thinking about it all day."

"Tell me," Spencer said. "Fuck, tell me."

"What?" Brendon asked, his hips rocking up as Spencer started to pull at his pants, trying to get the fly undone.

"What you were thinking," Spencer said, in between kisses. "Tell me." He'd shifted down so that he was on his knees half way down the couch, fumbling with Brendon's pants. He wanted Brendon's dick in his mouth. He'd never—blow jobs had never been his thing before, but now he just wanted them all the fucking time.

"Holy shit," Brendon managed, pressing his hips up so that he could shuck off his pants and Spencer could pull at the waistband of his underwear, freeing his dick.

Spencer leaned in and slid his mouth down over Brendon's dick, hand splayed across his stomach.

Brendon whined. "Fuck, that's good," he said. "Fuck, Spence. I want to lick my come out of your ass. I want to come in your ass and watch it slide out. I want to know that's where I've been."

Spencer wrapped his fingers around the base of Brendon's dick and continued to blow him. He tasted warm and a little sweaty, and he smelled like Brendon, like heat and sex and like the two of them, together. It tasted—this was what he wanted. He wanted this, wanted Brendon, wanted to have sex with him over and over and over so that the taste of his come was familiar. I want to remember what your come tastes like was about as close to a declaration of love that Spencer could manage right now.

"You're going to make me come," Brendon said, half-heartedly trying to push Spencer away. "Want to come in you. Spence, please."

Spencer sat back on his heels and went to wipe his mouth with the back of his hand, but Brendon stopped his hand and knelt up to meet him, covering Spencer's mouth with his own.

"Want to know what I taste like to you," he said, in between kisses. He slid a hand between them and popped the top button of Spencer's fly. His hand found its way inside, and inside Spencer's underwear, and Spencer had to shove his pants down to free his dick. "Love your dick," Brendon said. "It's so soft."

"It's really fucking hard," Spencer growled, trying and failing to be sexy.

Brendon snorted. "You know it, baby," he said, and he nipped at Spencer's lip with his teeth. "Want to fuck you bareback," he said. "Is that okay?"

"The most okay," Spencer managed. He figured—it felt like words were something he used to know how to use, at some point that wasn't this one. He pulled away, standing up and kicking off his pants and socks, so he was naked in front of the Christmas tree, fire crackling merrily to his side.

"It's like a holiday greeting card come to life," Brendon quipped, pulling off his socks.

"Not the kind my parents ever send."

"Thank god," Brendon said, standing up and wrapping his arms around Spencer's neck, pressing right up against him so that his dick, wet and hard, was pushed up against Spencer's stomach. "Now kiss me before I fuck you."

Spencer leaned in and pressed his mouth to Brendon's. He'd meant it to be quick and hard and dirty, but it ended up something slower, something different, something that meant I really fucking love you. Brendon ran his hands up Spencer's sides and kissed him back, cupping Spencer's face in his hands.

"Get down on your hands and knees," Brendon told him breathlessly, and Spencer nodded, kneeling down on the sheepskin rug in front of the fire. "I'm going to get the lube from upstairs, don't move."

Spencer laughed, letting his head hang loosely. He was kind of tense, he knew that. He'd never been fucked without a condom, and being fucked itself was still kind of a new thing for him, and it was Brendon, so his brain felt like it was twisted inside out and upside down. His dick was so fucking hard.

"Hey," Brendon said, coming back in and leaning over to press a kiss to the middle of Spencer's back. "So, I'm going to finger you, okay? That okay?"

"Yeah," Spencer managed, since it was.

"Awesome," Brendon said, and then there was the sound of the lube cap being flicked open, and then cool, wet fingertips were stroking over his asshole and Spencer was whining already, right there without even a fingertip inside of him. "You like that," Brendon said.

"A little," Spencer lied.

Brendon laughed, and slid the tip of his finger inside. Spencer groaned.

He really fucking loved this, he realized a while later, when the slide of Brendon's fingers in and out of his ass had become something he could concentrate on, his breathing coming in pants. Brendon was talking to him, but Spencer couldn't focus on what, because all he could think about was Brendon's fingers in his ass.

"Fuck me," he begged, when it started to feel like it might be getting too much. He wanted to come. His dick was so fucking hard, and he was trying not to touch himself, but it was tough. He wanted to come from Brendon's dick in his ass, not from his own hand. He could come jerking himself off every single day for the rest of his life. He got Brendon for this week, and this week only. He wasn't going to touch himself.

"Fuck," Brendon echoed, and then the fingers in Spencer's ass were gone, and instead there was the press of Brendon's dick instead, the slick tip of his dick against Spencer's ass. "Breathe," he said, and then he was pressing in, and it was—it was incredible.

Spencer felt so full, and so connected, and he was probably going to laugh at himself in the future for feeling this intense, but he didn't care. He loved Brendon, and having sex with him was the best thing he'd ever done, no matter how much it was going to hurt, having to stop. Brendon was inside of him, and fucking him, and everywhere they touched it felt like everything. Like too much and not enough, all at the same time. He was so fucked.

"You feel so good," Brendon told him, over and over.

It felt like hours, but it was probably only minutes. Spencer had no idea how long they'd been going, only that he was so turned on and if he let himself think about it, his hands were starting to hurt from the pattern on the rug. He really wanted to jerk off, to give himself the satisfaction of coming. His orgasm was curling in his belly and he could barely breathe with want, but he held fast and didn't touch.

"I'm close," Brendon went on. "I think I'm going to come. I'm going to come in you, Spence. Going to come."

Spencer wanted to beg him, but he couldn't find the words. He nodded instead, trying to hold off, but he couldn't. When Brendon started to come he cried out, desperate for more, and then he was curling his hand around his dick and jerking himself off. All he could think about was Brendon, and coming.

When he felt Brendon's tongue on his ass, licking at his hole, he couldn't hold on. It was like Brendon had set off every nerve ending in his body, and he was on fire, desperate. He couldn't think. It was incredible, and he could feel Brendon's come sliding out of his ass. His hand was a blur on his dick, and that was it, that was enough.

He came with a bitten off cry, Brendon's hands on his hips, and then he was closing his eyes and sagging down onto the rug. He tried to remember how to breathe, but Brendon was wrapping his arms around him and holding on, so maybe it didn't matter. All that mattered was this.

~*~

He must have fallen asleep, because when he opened his eyes, he was uncomfortable and his back was way too warm from being in front of the fire. Brendon was asleep, pressed close to Spencer all along one side. They were naked and sticky, and Spencer poked Brendon in the side to wake him up.

"Hey," he said, as Brendon grumbled in his sleep, frowning and trying to push Spencer away. He leaned in and pressed a kiss to the corner of Brendon's mouth. "Wake up, dude. It's like sleeping on a barbecue. We need to move."

Brendon kept his eyes closed. "Don't want to," he complained, tilting his chin up. "Kiss me again."

"What did your last slave die of?" Spencer said, touching Brendon's cheek. He cupped Brendon's jaw in his palm and leaned in for another kiss, ignoring the heat of the fire on his back. They needed to put some clothes on and sit further away from the fire.

"Not being kissed enough," Brendon grumbled.

Spencer grinned and kissed him again. "We need to move," he said, in between kisses. "This is fucking uncomfortable."

Brendon wriggled. "I'm comfortable," he said. He opened his eyes and reached up to stroke his hand into Spencer's hair, drawing him in for another kiss. "Come here."

Spencer didn't complain about that. He needed to move though, so he shifted so that he was kneeling over Brendon.

"That's better," Brendon told him. He shifted a little, getting comfortable, and then slid a hand down between them to fist his dick. "You should blow me," he said. "My dick needs attention."

Spencer rolled his eyes. "You're such a dick," he said, but he shuffled back so he was kneeling either side of Brendon's knees. Brendon was half hard, his dick poking up, and Spencer couldn't help but get closer and run his tongue along the length.

Brendon hummed his appreciation. "You can do that forever," he said, his hands in Spencer's hair.

Spencer thought, please, but didn't let it show on his face. He fucking loved Brendon's dick, and he really loved it now, when it was only half-hard and sleepy soft against his tongue. He could feel Brendon hardening beneath him, and he licked at the pearl of pre-come at the tip, feeling Brendon's whimper shiver through him. He really loved going down on him, and when he took Brendon's dick in his mouth, Brendon's fingers tightened in Spencer's hair, and that went straight to his dick.

"Want to blow you too," Brendon said. "Fuck, turn around, let me suck your dick at the same time."

Spencer didn't care about the heat of the fire. He didn't care about anything, except shifting so that he was on his side beside Brendon, and his dick was touching Brendon's lips. He pressed forward into his mouth, and licked at Brendon's dick at the same time.

Everything was slick, and hot, and kind of weird; he'd never done this before, with anyone, and it was difficult to concentrate on blowing Brendon when Brendon had Spencer's dick in his mouth, and the angle was all fucked up. He curled his fingers around Brendon's dick instead, licking in between his fingers, thumb stroking at the tip. Brendon was fully hard now, and Spencer jacked him as he took the tip in his mouth.

Brendon was sucking his dick and it felt incredible, warm and wet and he wanted to rock his hips closer so that he could get even more, but he had to tell himself to keep still. Oh, fuck, he was caught up in this and it felt so good. He still felt a little like he was asleep, like this was one fucking awesome dream he was having, and not really happening. Brendon rocked up into Spencer's mouth, and Spencer choked a little, sliding back to get his breath back.

This was—it was amazing. Their rhythm was screwed up and he wasn't sure that either of them knew what they were doing, but he was getting blown at the same time as going down on Brendon, and that was kind of incredible. His orgasm was building, and he could tell that Brendon's was too, his rhythm becoming jerky and irregular as they both neared the edge. He couldn't even tell Brendon he was going to come, instead rocking his hips so that his dick hit the back of Brendon's mouth, and that was enough to tip him over. He started to come, desperate and hot, and Brendon swallowed it all, keeping him in his mouth until Spencer was done and breathlessly mouthing at Brendon's dick to push him to his orgasm, too.

When Brendon started to come, Spencer couldn't keep him in his mouth, and Brendon's dick slid out, come hitting Spencer's cheek and his nose and his chin. Spencer—a little shaky after his orgasm—wrapped his hand around Brendon's dick and took him in his mouth again, keeping him there until Brendon was done, and starting to soften. He slid off and rolled onto his back.

"Fuck," he said finally, wiping his mouth on the back of his hand. His arms and legs feel like limp spaghetti; he wasn't sure he could have stood up if he'd tried. His brain was a total fucking mess.

"Yeah," Brendon said. He fumbled for Spencer's hand, tangling his fingers with Spencer's. "Fuck."

Spencer covered his eyes with his arm and tried not to think.

~*~

When Spencer was finished in the shower, he found Brendon leaning up against the doorway in the bedroom with two bottles of beer.

"Hey," Brendon said with a rueful smile. "You want a beer?"

"Yeah," Spencer said. He pulled off his towel and dried his hair with it for a moment, before dropping it down onto the bed and reaching for his sleep pants and a shirt.

Brendon held out a bottle for Spencer to take. "So," he said. "Feels like we had all the sex today."

"Yeah," Spencer agreed. He took a long swig from the bottle. "You okay?"

"Yep," Brendon said, and elbowed him in the side. "Kind of hungry again, though. You want snacks?"

Spencer laughed. "Yeah," he said. "Always." It was weird how comfortable he felt around Brendon after they'd had sex. He was pretty sure there should be some awkwardness, but there never was. Just this—the two of them, the same as they'd always been. His best friend. "You got any ideas what you might want to do tomorrow?" They only really had a couple of days left in the UK.

Brendon shrugged and smoothed Spencer's damp hair away from his face. "I'm pretty sure we could come up with something." His gaze dropped to Spencer's mouth, and then back up again. His eyes twinkled.

Spencer rolled his eyes. "I'm pretty sure there will be orgasms," he said. "I mean, what do you want to do apart from the orgasms."

"More orgasms?"

Spencer snorted. "Apart from the orgasms."

Brendon leaned in and pressed a kiss to the corner of Spencer's mouth. "Let's go walk up the cliffs above Gareth's fish and chips place. We can walk up, take pictures, come back down, have fish and chips, and come back here for orgasms."

"Sounds like a pretty good plan to me," Spencer agreed. He fumbled with the hem of Brendon's shirt. "Hey, I was thinking."

"Uh-huh," Brendon said, narrowing his eyes.

"It's good, I promise," Spencer said. "I was thinking that maybe we could go out on our last night. Have dinner, do something nice. Do you want to?" A date, he thought, over and over. I'm asking you out on a date.

"Cool. That sounds cool." Brendon leaned past him, and picked up his mostly-useless phone from the nightstand to check the time. "You want to watch TV and eat snacks for the rest of the night? We have all that stuff we bought at the store."

Spencer curled his fingers into Brendon's hair, still damp from his shower earlier, and drew him in for a kiss. "Sure," he said. "Feed me crackers."

"Sexy," Brendon said, and kissed him again. "Come on, let's go downstairs where it's warm. It's freezing up here."

"Yeah," Spencer agreed, and tried not to read too much into the fact that it felt like they'd agreed to a date.

[onward]

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