let him win his spurs

I was getting ready to post chapter 10 of The Holiday, and then I realised that I hadn't posted chapter 9 to livejournal, only to AO3. Fail, self, fail. Here's chapter 9; chapter 10 to follow.

Title: The Holiday [9/?]
Author: sunsetmog
Fandom: Panic! at the Disco
Pairing: Brendon Urie / Spencer Smith
Rating: NC-17 overall
Word count: 3,820 (this part)
Warnings: None.
Notes: Thank you to hermette for the beta. Any remaining errors are my own. For ohohstarryeyed.

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

Inspired by The Holiday. Sort of. Um.

Summary: "So," Brendon said. "How do you want to do this?"

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




~*~

"So," Brendon said, once they were back in the bedroom after their eggs, and Spencer was spending some quality time lining things up in his drawers rather than taking his pajamas off. "How do you want to do this?"

Spencer tried to laugh. "The way I know it, you put your dick in my ass, and then we come."

Brendon rolled his eyes, and slapped Spencer's thigh, circling his hand around Spencer's leg to draw him closer to the bed. "Joker," he said. "I mean it. It's your first time. Let's figure this shit out."

"It's your first time too," Spencer said, trying—and failing—not to sound sulky. He didn't like not being able to do something, and he didn't much like being inexperienced, and he was halfway to being in love with Brendon, and shit was getting turned upside down.

Brendon shrugged. "Stop getting all Spencer-y," he said. "I fucking know you, dickhead. Suck it up and admit you don't have a fucking clue what you're doing, and then we can fast-forward to the part where there are orgasms."

Spencer waited a beat before letting out a breath. "Okay, fine, I admit it. I don't have a fucking clue, and I'm kind of freaked out about stuff going in my ass. Okay?"

"All you needed to say, dude," Brendon said. "You want to shower first?"

"Yes," Spencer said, without even letting himself think about it. A respite—any respite—just to give him two minutes to try and get himself under control sounded like the best plan. He was half-terrified that having Brendon's dick in his ass was going to hurt like a motherfucker, and half-scared he was going to come before Brendon was even inside him.

"Okay," Brendon said. "Go shower, then I'll shower, then there can be clean fucking."

Spencer buried his face in his hands. "Okay," he said, and then he grabbed his towel from the hook on the door and disappeared into the bathroom.

The shower was pretty crappy, in that the water pressure felt more like a gentle stream than an actual shower, but at least that meant Spencer could hear when Brendon came in and sat down on the closed lid of the toilet.

"So, we can do it with you on your hands and knees, or you could be on your back with your knees up. That's basically how I've seen people do it in porn."

Spencer ducked his head out of the spray and blinked away the water. "You watch gay porn?"

There was a pause. "Like you don't," Brendon said. "Why didn't you tell me you were bisexual?"

"Why didn't you?" Spencer shot back. He relented after a moment. "I don't know," he said. "I told Mom and Ryan when I was about fifteen. It all seemed pretty theoretical. You're the, uh. First time it hasn't been strictly theoretical."

"Oh," Brendon said, and hummed. "Can I get in the shower with you?"

Spencer waited a moment before saying anything. His brain felt a little bit like it was running on overdrive. "Yeah," he said, finally. "Come on."

"Awesome," Brendon said, stripping away his clothes and climbing over the side of the tub and under the spray. "Hi."

"Hi," Spencer said, and he smiled, Brendon's answering smile meeting his. Brendon wrapped an arm around Spencer's back, and stepped closer.

"I have had three blow jobs," Brendon said, "and one failed make out session, and that has been the sum total of my bisexual life experience." He shrugged. "Oh, and one awesome guy fucked the life out of me."

"If that was anyone else but me, I'm going to punch them in the face," Spencer said without thinking, but Brendon just laughed, and straightened up so he could smooth Spencer's hair away from his face and kiss him again.

"I was talking about you," Brendon confided, mouth pressed to Spencer's. "Are you done freaking out?"

I'm in love with you, Spencer thought softly, and tried not to think too much about the other two blow jobs that hadn't been his. "Yeah," he lied and ran his fingers up and down Brendon's back.

"Okay." Brendon slid his fingertips into the crease of Spencer's ass and over his hole. He circled his fingers slowly, until Spencer gulped back a breath and tipped his head back so that it hit the tiles.

"Fucking hell," Spencer managed, as Brendon slid the tip of one finger inside, and then out again.

"That's my boy." Brendon grinned, his other hand splayed across Spencer's chest, fingertips over Spencer's heart. He ducked his head and pressed a kiss to Spencer's sternum. "Turn around and I'll finger you for real."

Spencer blinked away the water from his eyes, and nodded jerkily. "Okay," he said. He turned around so that he was facing the wall, and just to steady himself, he put the flat of his hand against the water-slick tiles.

Brendon wrapped an arm around Spencer's chest and pressed his mouth to Spencer's spine, his fingertips still stroking over Spencer's hole. "You ready?" he asked, over the gentle pound of the water, and Spencer nodded, taking a breath as Brendon slid his fingertip inside of him.

"Holy fuck," Spencer managed, since it was kind of dirty and weird, in a good way, to be turned away from someone during the run up to sex. He'd only ever had sex with girls before this week, and he'd always been facing them. Turning away was such an odd thing to focus on, he knew, but he felt opened up and strangely vulnerable, and that wasn't something he was used to. Especially when the tip of Brendon's second finger joined his first, and Spencer whined without even realizing, and slid his legs further apart so that Brendon could get a better angle.

"Right?" Brendon agreed, dropping another kiss to Spencer's shoulder. "Fuck, you feel so good, Spence. It's like—fuck, if this is what it's going to feel like to have my dick in you then I'm going to come before we even get going."

Spencer snorted, unable to help himself. "I thought I was going to come too," he admitted, both hands on the wall now, the tiles slick and cold beneath his palms. He tipped his head back, into the spray. "You were so fucking tight, Brendon. It was so hot and so tight and fuck, it's your ass. I thought I was going to come right there."

"Yeah," Brendon said, ghosting his tongue over Spencer's spine. His fingers fucked into Spencer slowly, oh-so slowly, and Spencer could barely remember how to breathe. "Fuck, are you done? Are you clean? Can we get out?"

"Yeah," Spencer said, nodding already. He twisted back on to Brendon's fingers, and the jolt of heat and desire and attraction was almost too much to bear. "Brendon, please—"

"Come on," Brendon said, leaning over and turning the tap so that the shower water petered out to nothing. He grabbed the towels off the sink and threw one at Spencer, and got busy toweling himself down. It took Spencer a moment to realize that he was supposed to be doing something other than just watching Brendon's ass, and he hurriedly dried himself off before following Brendon out of the bathroom and into the bedroom.

Brendon grabbed his hand. "Ass in the air, or knees up?" he asked, waggling his eyebrows. "You decided yet?"

Spencer wasn't sure he was ever going to get used to the fact he got to see Brendon naked and hard, now. He just kept staring at his erection, like if he looked away it would just disappear.

"Like you," he said, a little distractedly. "Hands and knees, the first time."

"Okay," Brendon said, taking a breath, and Spencer knew he wasn't the only one of them who was nervous. To counter it, he covered the couple of steps between the two of them and wrapped his arm around Brendon's shoulders, drawing him in so that he could kiss him.

Brendon kissed back with enthusiasm, steadying himself with hands to Spencer's hips, and so much had changed, even in the past few days. Just getting to kiss Brendon was amazing, and—aware of the way it wasn't going to last past the end of the vacation—Spencer kissed him harder. He knew how much of himself he was revealing in every kiss, in every touch, but he couldn't hold himself back, he couldn't hide. For this vacation he wasn't hiding anything. He just wasn't talking about it, that was all.

"On the bed," Brendon said, in between kisses. "It's my turn to have a neon dick."

Spencer snorted, and reached behind him for the remains of the pack of condoms from the nightstand. "Here," he said, taking one out of the pack. "Let me."

Brendon hissed in a breath. "Yeah," he said, steadying himself with a hand to Spencer's shoulder as Spencer knelt down and tore the corner off with his teeth. Fuck, it smelled like banana from down here. He wrapped his hand around the base of Brendon's dick, and remembered blowing him; when he looked up, Brendon was looking down at him, and Spencer knew he was thinking about the same thing. Spencer carefully rolled the condom down Brendon's dick, and without thinking too much about it, dropped a kiss to Brendon's hip.

"There," he said. "All done."

Spencer didn't know how long he knelt on the bed for with Brendon slowly fingering his ass open. He did know that it was long past the point where he could control his moans, and the way he was panting around Brendon's fingers was as desperate as it could be. When Brendon pressed closer and touched his mouth to Spencer's ass, around his fingers, Spencer nearly shot off the bed in surprise. "Fuck, fuck," he managed, since that was Brendon's tongue. On his asshole, and fuck, that was hot. It felt incredible.

He whined, unable to help himself, as Brendon licked at him, and then he whined in complaint when first Brendon's mouth, and then his fingers were gone from his ass. "Brendon—"

"You ready?" Brendon asked shakily, and that was Brendon's dick against his ass, waiting.

"Yeah," Spencer said, nodding, and then Brendon was grabbing on to his hip and sliding in, and Spencer was groaning, loud and unable to help himself. It wasn't pain, but it might have been discomfort—Spencer couldn't tell. All he could discern was the pleasure; the fullness, the slow fill, the way he thought he was going to break in two, in the very best way possible.

"Fuck," he managed, as Brendon slowly began to fuck him. This was—fuck, he wasn't going to be able to last all that long. He grabbed his dick and squeezed, but it didn't matter all that much; Brendon was still fucking him and it still felt amazing and Spencer's worldview was shifting with every breath.

"You feel amazing," Brendon told him, hands on Spencer's hips. "Is this what it felt like for you?"

Spencer couldn't talk, so he jerked himself off instead, hand wrapped around his dick.

He didn't know how long he lasted, but the room felt hot and his skin shone with sweat as he stumbled out a warning to Brendon and started to come. He worked his dick through his orgasm, Brendon saying—something, Spencer wasn't listening, he couldn't—and then he had to hold onto the head of the bed as Brendon continued to fuck into him.

"Gonna come," Brendon warned him after a minute. Spencer felt like he was floating on air. "Going to come."

When Brendon came, it was such a weird, hot feeling. He knew Brendon was wearing a condom, but part of him wanted him not to be; Spencer wanted to know what it felt like to have someone's come in his ass. He couldn't figure out the words for that, though, and instead, when Brendon slid out, Spencer stretched out carefully, and shifted down onto the sheets while Brendon disappeared into the bathroom.

Brendon came out and leaned against the door frame. "Fuck," he said, dazedly. "That was seriously fucking hot."

Spencer considered saying, you're hot.

Brendon sprawled on the sheets next to him. "This was the best vacation plan ever, Spence. The best. Let's have sex all the time until we fly back." His eyes were closed, and he'd taken the dry patch on the sheets. Spencer felt something cold and painful twist in his stomach, and he realized, too late, that he'd started to think of this as the beginning of something else. Something bigger.

Dumbass, he told himself, and when he pulled the sheets up and over them both, he closed his eyes and let out a breath. Just enjoy this week for what it is, and stop making it something it isn't.

—

"I have a cheese hangover," Brendon said the following morning. After their sex and associated nap last night, they'd spent the rest of the night watching old videos of Singin' in the Rain and James Bond while eating their way through the hot cheeseman's Christmas cheese truckles. "And I think that cheese is replicating itself while we look the other way. I'm sure it's gotten bigger. Look at that. Didn't we put less than that in the fridge last night?"

Spencer peered over Brendon's shoulder into the fridge. Their cheese mountain still seemed as big as it had yesterday, even though they'd eaten steadily for four hours. "I don't know. I thought we'd eaten more of it than that," he said doubtfully. The coffee was brewing in the French press, and Spencer had filled the kitchen table with the boxes of cereal that Brendon had thrown in the cart when they'd gone grocery shopping their first day. "Maybe you're right."

"I am right," Brendon said, and turning around, he leaned in and pressed a kiss to Spencer's mouth.

He tasted minty fresh, and Spencer wondered when it was that they'd both started brushing their teeth as soon as they woke up. They certainly didn't do that at home. Whatever, if it meant they could make out more this vacation, then Spencer wasn't going to complain.

"Coffee," Brendon said regretfully, after a minute of slow kissing pressed up against the refrigerator door. He leaned past Spencer to get to the French press. He kept his hand on Spencer's hip, a fact that Spencer chose to concentrate on. "Hey, so you want to get out of here today? Do something?"

"Sure," Spencer said, covering Brendon's hand with his own. "You have any thoughts?"

"Sure I do," Brendon said. He reached for a couple of mugs, and pulled the sleeves of his hoodie down over his hands. It was still cold, even with the heating on. December wasn't being kind to them, weather-wise. "I saw this on the shelf. Want to try one?" He held up a pamphlet that said Five Circular Walks Around Newport.

"Huh," Spencer said, since walking for fun had never exactly seemed—to him at least—all that exciting a way of spending a day.

"The way I see it," Brendon went on, dumping the mugs on the kitchen table and pouring them full of coffee. "Circular means one thing. We can start off in a bar and end in a bar. Look, it even has one that's designed to start and end in a pub."

Spencer made a face, and dumped a couple of spoonfuls of sugar into his coffee. He watched as Brendon filled his with milk and sugar, enough that it barely resembled coffee any longer. "You want to?" he said, a little doubtfully.

"Yep," Brendon said. "Come on, it sounds like fun."

"It sounds cold," Spencer grumbled, but he filled his cereal bowl with two Weetabix and a shitload of Coco Pops on top. They'd bought four boxes of cereal on that trip to the grocery store, so Spencer was making it his duty to eat at least two kinds at every cereal-based meal.

"We have our amazing coats," Brendon told him, tangling his feet with Spencer's under the table and shivering. "And we can just layer up. Here, take a look at these." He thrust a handful of pamphlets into Spencer's hand. The top one said tairtaithynnhrefdraeth sir benfro.

Spencer blinked. "And you understand this?" he said.

Brendon grinned. "Turn it over, crosspatch. It's English on the other side. But I'm not talking about that pamphlet, try the next one. That's the one that's got the walk that starts and ends at the bar."

Okay, so Spencer wasn't the best-tempered person in the world when he'd just woken up, but whatever. He was always brighter after coffee. He flicked through the pamphlets as he ate his cereal. "Did you know you can see winter ducks? And buzzards. And porpoises and otters and seals."

"Awesome," Brendon said. "Did you miss the part where it starts and ends in a pub?"

"We've missed the beating of the bounds," Spencer said, ignoring him. "That happens in August."

"I can't even make a guess," Brendon said, slurping milk loudly from his cereal bowl. "Do you think it involves actual beating?"

"And the bridge existed as far back as the thirteenth century," Spencer read on, ignoring Brendon's weird attempt at acting out beating the bounds. Once he was done, Brendon rolled his eyes and grabbed the pamphlet.

"We're doing the one that starts and ends in the bar," he said. "Hurry up and finish your breakfast."

"There's an Iron Age fort," Spencer said, still keeping a hold of the pamphlet, and waving his spoon at Brendon. "And a historical saga set around the mountain. Did we miss a mountain? This place has a mountain?"

Brendon shrugged. "We're doing the one that starts at the bar."

Spencer rolled his eyes, and grinned. "Okay," he said, and suddenly he was infected with all of Brendon's early morning enthusiasm, and he couldn't hide his smile, not even when Brendon's gaze met his.

"Come on," Brendon said, "eat quicker."

~*~

This, Spencer thought, was the worst idea they'd ever had. They were half way up a hillside, it was freezing cold, there was mud everywhere and Spencer was darkly convinced that they were going to die up here, away from the town, where only sheep would ever see their bodies.

"That pub was awesome," Brendon said, grabbing Spencer's hand to hurry him over the stile.

"It was," Spencer agreed, since it had been. It had been dark inside, carpeted in old, faded red carpets with matching faded damaskwallpaper. The pictures on the wall were of the small town fifty years earlier. Everyone in there had wanted to talk, and—Brendon being Brendon—had spent far too long sharing stories with old, bearded Welshmen who remembered the coastline before it had started overflowing with kids in wetsuits dragging bodyboards behind them every summer. One pint had stretched into two, and Spencer was convinced that setting out for a five mile walk after lunch in December could only end badly.

"Why don't we have bars like that at home?" Brendon asked, jumping nimbly from one moss-strewn green rock to the next. He wobbled precariously on the last one, and grabbed at Spencer for balance.

"Careful, dumbass," Spencer said fondly. He didn't shake Brendon's hand away, and when Brendon stepped off the rock and into the damp grass, he slid his hand down Spencer's arm and tangled his fingers into Spencer's.

Spencer bit his lip and looked at the ground for a moment, before fixing his gaze on their entwined, gloved fingers. They'd known each other for so long and this was the first time they'd ever held hands like this, even for a joke. All of this time, all of these years, and it was only now that Spencer was coming to realize that there was more to their relationship than he'd ever thought possible.

"Okay?" Brendon asked, waving his other hand at the marshy quagmire that was the churned up muddy pathway that led up the side of the hill.

Spencer knew he wasn't talking about the path.

"Yeah," he said. He looked around, at the sloping hillside, so dark and green and wet, the piles of standing stones that dotted the landscape, the quiet sheep that didn't shy away from them as they walked. It was beautiful in its own cold, rugged way. He felt warm.

He waited a few more minutes before talking again. "You know we're never going to make five miles before it gets dark, right?"

"Pessimist," Brendon said, bumping shoulders with him. He pushed Spencer into the dry stone wall that lined the field, and pressed his cold mouth to Spencer's. His nose was freezing, and so was Spencer's, and they were red-cheeked from the cold, their breath coming in clouds. His lips were chapped and the clouds looked like rain, and the only thing around them for miles that was even vaguely warm was their kiss.

Spencer kissed him back, cupping Brendon's face in his gloved hand.

"It's going to get dark and we'll get lost out here," Spencer told him, in between kisses.

"I'll have you," Brendon said, shrugging and kissing him. "We'll be fine."

"We'll have to huddle for warmth," Spencer maintained, carefully trying to hide the way his heart was beating faster and his traitorous brain was bringing forth all kinds of images of the future, all of which included him and Brendon, like this, in places that didn't begin and end with Wales.

"I'm very warm," Brendon told him, rubbing his cold nose against Spencer's.

"Your nose begs to differ," Spencer said, but he didn't move away. He caught Brendon's bottom lip in his teeth, and Brendon's mouth curved into a grin. He pressed himself to Spencer's front, through the thick layers of their jeans and waterproof pants and sweaters and thick lurid purple coats. From this close up, he could see the flecks of gold in Brendon's eyes, the freckles faded from lack of sun. The dark of his lashes behind his glasses.

He swallowed, suddenly short of breath. "Let's go home," he said. "Let's go home so I can take you to bed."

Brendon touched his mouth to Spencer's. "Circular walks are stupid," he said, kissing him again. "Whoever thought we should leave the house was a total fucking loser. Bars are crappy."

Spencer grinned. "At least we got some good pictures on the way up. We can prove to people we left the house."

"Yeah, yeah," Brendon said, tugging Spencer forward by his scarf. "Come on, stop hanging around. Let's go home and have all of the sex."

"Yeah," Spencer said, letting himself be dragged, and laughing as Brendon almost tripped over a passing sheep. "I don't think we're outdoorsy people."

"I am," Brendon proclaimed, standing in a muddy puddle up to his ankle. "Shut up, that was totally your fault."

Spencer was too busy laughing to argue.

~*~

[onward]