#my work revised

You guide him up the stairs, and he must regain some confidence along the way, because he pushes you into your room and onto your bed. You shriek and bounce a little, giggling as he crawls on top of you and slots a thigh between yours. “Well, hello there,” you murmur into his mouth, rubbing against him.

“Hey, pretty girl,” he whispers, and you push his hair out of his face so you can meet his eyes. He cups your face and kisses you gently; you’ve found a great pace on his thigh but his soft kisses, while lovely, aren’t going to get you where you’re trying to go. So you deepen the kiss, one hand tangled in the back of his hair to keep his mouth crushed to yours, while the other grips his shoulder to keep him down against you.

You’ve been together for about six months now, and you’ve each spent nights in the other’s bed, but it’s never gone further than urgent, deep makeout sessions and some over-the-clothes touching—and you haven’t had a chance to go further, because you’ve both always had most of your clothes on. You’re not upset by it exactly; it just feels odd that things are progressing so well emotionally, yet moving so slowly physically.

Part of you wonders if the emotional side is going well because you two haven’t had sex, but you push this idea away. You love him, you know that, but you also want him. You want him under you, over you, deep inside you—all of it. And you know the desire is mutual too.

“I just,” Brendon murmured against your neck one night last week, “want you to know that I do want to.” You were half-asleep and not quite sure what he meant until he continued talking. “I’m not sure why I’m waiting or holding back; I want you so damn badly.” You’d honestly expected something to happen then, but he just held you firmly against his body, fingers tracing your stomach idly until you both fell asleep.

You also know he’s a virgin. He’s always called it a choice, not a ‘waiting for the one’ thing exactly, but a ‘mindful abstinence’ scenario. Either way you look at it, you’re positive you’re going to be his first, and you’d really like to be his only.

Even though he’s not sensitive or shy about his virginity, you’re still reluctant to push him. You don’t want him to think that you’re only interested in him sexually, despite the fact that his touch absolutely electrifies you, and every time you so much as look at him, your body tenses with desire. But you’re starting to think you’ll need to make the first move here after all; Brendon has always been such a gentleman with you that he’s probably afraid of inadvertently pushing you. He knows you’ve had sexual partners in the past and knows about your, in your own words, ‘voracious sexual appetite.’ It’s because of all this that you suspect he’s afraid to initiate anything more, just because he doesn’t want you to think he expects it of you.

Now that you think about it though, you’re not sure he’d have any real expectations. He’s openly admitted to being a virgin, but he hasn’t gotten into the specifics. That lack of information gives you the distinct impression that he hasn’t done anything past what you’re doing right now: making out and grinding, rubbing, rocking on each other. It might be time to push him along, just a bit.

Making up your mind, you lean down and murmur, “I want to be on top of you,” in his ear, and he groans a little, nodding.

“Want that too,” Brendon manages, and you roll over him and press him into the mattress, your thighs spread over his hips. You go back to your earlier movement, but stop after a moment. Your jeans are bothering you, and you said it yourself; your parents shouldn’t be home for hours. You slip off of him and, laying flat on your back, wiggle out of your pants, kicking them off the edge of the bed. For good measure, you squirm out of your shirt as well.

He’s a little wide-eyed at the sight of your underwear, and the desire on his face is so plain that you just have to be on him again. Whenever you’ve spent the night, he’s preemptively given you a pair of his boxers and an oversized tee to sleep in. He’s always turned away to be respectful and ‘give you your privacy as you change,’ even though you’ve gently teased that you don’t mind him looking.

Brendon’s definitely looking now, and you can see how hard he is. You need to feel him. Gripping both of his shoulders, you settle back down, and he pulls your face down to kiss you. “So damn hot,” Brendon mumbles; you can feel his cock straining through his jeans, and it makes you wonder if he can feel how wet you are.

“You’ve seen me in a swimsuit; this is basically the same,” you murmur through the embrace.

“No,” Brendon groans, “because swimsuits are for… swimming… and we are not swimming.”

“Very astute,” you tease, and he laughs a little sheepishly. “You feel so good,” you tell him as you circle over his erection. But as nice as the friction from his jeans is on your clit, it probably isn’t great for him—or not as great as you could make it. “But you should take your pants off,” you tell him after a moment and you think his eyes get wider as you slide out of his lap. “Only if you want to, though. It’s fine if you don’t want to.” You really hope he wants to.

Brendon scrambles up and unzips his jeans, almost hissing in relief when his dick is fully free of its denim prison. He hasn’t even gotten his pants fully off, but you’ve grabbed him and pulled him back down to the bed. “Sugar, I don’t—oh fuck,” he groans when you pounce, lips attaching to his neck while you work on getting his shirt off. He’s shoving at his jeans under you, and you realize it may have been faster to let him strip before dragging him into your bed. However, this way is more fun for you both.

“There.” You feel him kick his pants off. Now that he’s down to just his boxer briefs, you seek his hardness against your heat; just two thin layers of fabric are keeping you two apart. This is as close as you’ve ever been to something significantly physical happening. You need him; you can’t fight the breathy moan that slips from your mouth when he starts rocking tentatively up against you.

“Fuck,” Brendon groans, his thrusts erratic and his breathing a little heavier; you nod in agreement. “Will you…?” The question trails off and he looks uncertain, flushing a little. “This feels so good. Does it feel good for you too? Can you—will you come like this?” You nod quickly, and he smiles so radiantly, so happily, that you want to come for him right then. “I’ve never…I’ve never made anyone come before.”

This makes you kiss him hard. “Maybe you haven’t in person,” you tell him with a small smile, “but I promise I’ve definitely fantasized about you while touching myself. The mere thought of you touching me has made me come.”

“Fuck.”

“And I’m close now,” you add, bearing down on him and picking up your pace, alternating between circles and rocking strokes, feeling everything inside you coil tightly. “God, feeling your cock press right against my clit is making me so wet, getting me so close. I’m gonna come from this, B, gonna come all over you—wait, hang on.” You reach back and unclasp your bra, flinging it in the same direction as his shirt.

“Fuck,” Brendon groans again, and you grab his hands, bringing them up to your bare chest. “Your tits are fucking phenomenal.” He’s felt you up over your clothes, but only when you’ve had a bra on. At night, when you’re covered by just a t-shirt, he doesn’t let his hands stray from your stomach.

“I know, right?” You’re teasing him, but you’re still happy to see him so in awe of you. “Gonna go back to grinding on your dick; need you to play with my nipples, okay?”

“Play?” His eyes are glazed over with longing, and his hands move over you reverently.

“Play,” you confirm, moving again. “Roll, pinch, tug, lick your fingers and tease, you know. Play.”

“You’re incredible.”

“I’m close,” you correct breathlessly. “Need you to just—yeah, that’s so good, baby, fuck yes!”

Brendon’s quickly licked his thumbs and he’s moving them over your nipples in quick circles, lightly pinching and tugging a little. You’re moving faster, moaning low in the back of your throat as he pinches a bit more firmly at your urging.

He’s biting his lip, and you’re working yourself down hard against him; your orgasm is right around the corner. You’re so close—if he’d just—

“Damn, I love you,” Brendon whispers, and you gasp, your first spreading and rolling through you. That wasn’t what you had in mind, but it’s effective; it’s fireworks in your brain and sparks through your entire body, hearing him say that. You keep rocking against him, riding him through it, all the while murmuring how much you love him too. He’s gazing up at you longingly with his hands down on your hips now—not guiding or moving you, just feeling you roll and press over him.

“You’re so hot; god, watching you come like this and feeling you against me; I fucking love you—I didn’t mean to tell you like this but, fuck,” he groans, and you lean forward to kiss him. His tongue swipes across your lips, and you readily yield, letting him explore your mouth while you come back to full awareness. His hand is on your face again, cupping your cheek, and you can’t stop kissing him. It’s the frenzied bliss of confessing your love that’s fueling you, but the pool of lust in your stomach is helping too.

“I love you too. Now put your hand in my hair,” you whisper against his lips. He does as he’s told, and you sigh happily at the feeling of his fingertips massaging your scalp. “Now pull,” you instruct, and Brendon hesitates. You smile a little reassuringly. “It’s okay, baby. You won’t hurt me.”

He gives your hair a soft pull, and you shriek immediately. “Ow, fuck!” He looks so upset when you yelp in faux-pain that you can’t even commit to teasing him. “Oh B, I’m sorry. I was kidding. Just messing with you. It felt good. Really.”

He gives you a playfully dirty look. “That wasn’t nice, Sugar.” He’s teasing you now too, but you take the opportunity.

“You’re right. I’m sorry, love. Wanna see how nice I can really be?”

He swallows hard, and you grin, crawling backwards down his body, resting your chin on his thigh and tipping your head to one side. “Because,” you purr, running two fingers along the length of his covered erection, “I can be really nice. If you wanted me to be. Do you want me to be nice, Brendon?” You look up at him with wide eyes, biting your lower lip, knowing what it must be doing to him. He presses his head back into the pillow with a groan and nods. “Thank god,” you murmur, and you caress him through his boxers before you pull back and tug them at them.

You’ve never seen him naked, but you’ve drawn some conclusions from feeling him. You’re guessing that his cock is a good length—not so big that you’d hesitate to take him entirely, yet not so small that you’d wish he’d be able to get a little deeper—you’re confident he’ll fill you perfectly, and that he’s thick too. You’ve spent many nights home alone fingering yourself to the idea of his cock; putting aside your guesses and theories, you love him and crave this intimacy with him. All the same, you’re still hoping your fantasies are accurate. Now, you’re about to find out. You guide his boxers down eagerly, and you have to catch your breath.

“Oh, fuck yes,” you whisper when you find your words. He looks confused and a bit self-conscious, so you settle in between his legs, spit into your hand, and start stroking him. “I love being right.”

“What do you me—oh shit,” Brendon hisses when you lick up his length and close your mouth over the tip, letting your tongue swirl and circle before sliding the rest of him into your mouth. You shift up on one elbow to get slightly above him, but you’re pleased; your accuracy regarding his size did make you a bit worried in this particular area. You’ve got a sensitive gag reflex; you’ve never been able to blow a guy without watering eyes and burning in the back of your throat, and that’s even on smaller than average-sized dicks—which is not the case here. However, what you lack in deep-throating capability, you more than make up for in enthusiasm; you know you’re going to make it good for him.

Maybe it’s just because it’s been a long time since you’ve had a dick in your mouth, or it’s because you’re so focused on what you’re doing, but it takes you a moment to realize Brendon is being really quiet. You look up at him through your lashes, letting him slip from your mouth so that the head of his cock rests against your lips. He’s looking back down at you, breathing hard and biting his lower lip.

The look in his eyes is a mixture of wild lust and extreme self-control, so you lick him a few times, letting your tongue curve around him. “Bren, this is okay, right? Me doing this?” You slide one hand up his thigh to grasp one of his, and he takes it, lacing your fingers together. He nods eagerly, and you sigh in relief. “Okay, you’re just being really quiet…I like hearing how I’m making you feel,” you tell him with a small smile, and he squeezes your hand.

“It’s great. You’re great —no, you’re fucking fantastic — it’s just — no one has ever — you’re the first to —” and he cuts himself off with a sharp gasp when you stroke him firmly with your free hand. As your hand works, forming a circle with your fingers and squeezing and flexing around the base of his cock, you move your mouth down his shaft, moaning happily when he twitches against your tongue.

You pull back off him completely after a moment, switching back to jacking him now that you’ve gotten him slick with spit. “You’re telling me,” and you pause to breathe, because you can feel yourself getting lost in the feeling of his cock in your hand, “that no one has ever gone down on you before?” Brendon shakes his head, bucking his hips a little into your hand. “What the fuck. Seriously?” You’re perhaps exaggerating your disbelief a tad, because you’re secretly satisfied you’re his first, but you know it’s making him feel better.

He shrugs a little sheepishly, and you sputter in indignation. “You’ve got the perfect cock. They’ve been missing out. I’m about to set the bar of comparison high for you, B, but only if you’ll make some noise to let me know how I’m doing.” He nods weakly and you grin, turning back to his dick in your grasp and letting your lips open and spread around the tip.

“Fuck, you’re so good,” he sighs, and he puts his free hand, the one not holding yours, in your hair, just caressing. “Don’t ever want to compare; want you to be the only—oh god, baby, fuck— don’t stop!”

You let your grip loosen and your tongue run over the underside; you can’t help but moan a little when he pulses in your mouth and you taste the tiniest bit of precum. You’ve registered what he’s said about not wanting to compare and you being the only one who ever blows him, and it makes your heart lurch in happiness.

Brendon must take your moan as permission to let some of his own slip out. Most are wordless, just pleasure, but a few are laced with some of your favorite phrases, such as, “God, Sugar, your mouth,” and “so fucking good, holy fuck,” being among them. You feel a thrill go through you; they sound even better coming from him. There’s other things he could say that would practically make you come on the spot, but you’ll teach him those later.

Now, you must do something he really likes, because his hand tightens in your hair and he pulls lightly with a “fuck yes, baby.” You smile internally, pleased with yourself. More importantly, you’re proud of him for loosening up and giving in to the feelings.

You let your cheeks hollow out as you suck hard around him once and then go back to working him with both your hand and tongue, tracing his frenulum and teasing the vein running the underside of his cock. “God,” Brendon whispers, pulling your hair again with a broken moan. The combination sends a wave of hot lust through you, and you know if you let your other fingers press between your thighs, you’d come just from getting him off and hearing him react to you. “Think I might come.”

“That’s my plan,” you tell him when you pull back again. “Wanna feel you come, want it in my mouth,” you whisper, hand flying over him. “Want to make you feel so good; want you to come.” He meets your eyes and you can feel him tense in your grip.

“Sugar, I’m gonna—” but you don’t let him finish; you take him again, just the tip, your hand still encouraging, and suck hard. He seems to think about guiding you away, given the way his hand in your hair pulls back, but you tighten your lips around him. Brendon’s back arches a little, and he’s breathing hard. “Sug, I’m right there—you really don’t have to—”

“You can come in my mouth or you can come all over my tits,” you tell him, staring up at him intently. “Which do you want?” He moans that he can’t decide, your mouth is too good, he can’t think clearly, and you grin. He’s made his choice.

You lick your way down again, squeeze tightly with your hand, and hum a little. It pushes him over the edge, and Brendon swears loudly. He’s throbbing and pulsing his release over your tongue, and you moan because he actually tastes good to you.

His head is thrown back, and he’s just letting the words fall from his mouth. “Fuck, your mouth, making me come; letting me come in your mouth, sweet Christ you’re incredible oh god, baby yes, fuck, so wet and tight, fuck, fuck, fuck, oh god, fuck me that’s good…”

You keep sucking, and he keeps giving you more, and when he’s finally spent, he lets out a low moan, shuddering and pulling his hips back gently. You sit up, wiping idly at your lower lip and letting him see you swallow with satisfaction. He felt you swallow during, but you want him to see it too.

“Shit, you swallowed for me,” Brendon murmurs. “That’s so damn hot.” You crawl up over him, kissing his neck and jaw, whispering how much you love him. He groans, cups your face, and kisses you hard. “I love you. Your fucking mouth, baby…you’re incredible.”

“You know, I’ve got something other than my mouth that’s incredible, wet, tight, and all for you, if you want it,” you murmur against his lips with a smile, and he makes that strangled half-whimper, half-moan sound again. You roll off of him and onto your side, bringing him with you so you’re face to face. Your hands are still laced, so you release his fingers and curl your own around his wrist, guiding his hand down to your underwear. “Feel what you do to me, Bren? God, I’m so worked up, so wet for you. I fucking love sucking your cock; it makes me wanna come so hard,” you whisper.

Brendon groans your name. “Holy shit, can I touch you?” He strokes you tentatively through your panties, marveling at how they’re soaked through.

“Please,” and you don’t even mind that it comes out as a sharp, desperate plea. Brendon nudges your underwear aside, and he runs three fingers through your wetness, groaning to himself. He makes small circles over your clit and entrance, touching you so gently. When he looks up at you again, middle finger pressing into you, his eyes are dark, his lips parted as he breathes hard.

You want to live in this moment forever; his fingers on and in you, his face flushed post-orgasm, his eyes heavy with desire. “Sugar, I wanna make you feel good,” he whispers.

You grind against his fingers, making a small happy sound. “You are making me feel good.”

Brendon shakes his head a little, pulling his fingers out of your panties and slipping all three in his mouth. He groans a little and swears under his breath when he tastes you for the first time, and you do too; you can’t help it. “No,” he finally says, letting his fingers free. “You taste so fucking good. I wanna make you feel good with my mouth.”

“Oh god. Fuck Bren, please.” You didn’t know, didn’t really know, how badly you wanted it until he said it. Of course, you’ve thought about him eating you out—often—but it hasn’t been your primary focus right now. He makes his way down between your legs, and you sigh contentedly; his eyes are so bright and eager.

“You’ll, you know, help me? ‘Cause. Well. You know I haven’t—before. You do know that, right? I haven’t—” he cuts himself off and kisses the inside of your thigh, his eyes still on yours.

“Of course, Bren. I’ll help if you need it, but that’s a good start right there.” He smiles before kissing your other thigh, his lips warm and suckling gently while his hands reach up to slide your underwear off. “Why don’t you just do what feels right to you, and I’ll guide you along if I think you need it?”

Brendon nods, a little hesitant, and you run a hand through his hair, moaning softly when he presses forward. You want to be sure that you’re extra responsive for him, and not just to reinforce what you like, but because you know it’ll make him feel more confident.

His mouth on you is everything—it feels like he’s kissing you, so gentle and sweet. The way his tongue dips and caresses has you writhing happily, and you hope he can hear every whimper of pleasure. You know you’re dripping wet from the grinding and then blowing him, and he must like the taste, because he makes a soft noise in the back of his throat and pushes closer while tugging at your hips to keep you rubbing against him.

His tongue is working between your thighs while his thumbs massage your hips. Occasionally, his hands move inward to tease you a little before moving back up to lift and cup your breasts, rolling your nipples in his wet fingers. “Yeah baby, that feels so good,” you whisper, and you can tell he’s smiling from the playful sparkle in his eyes.

You tug his hair and spread your legs more; he groans for a moment and crawls back up over you, bringing his face close but pauses, unsure. You’re pretty sure you know what he’s thinking, so you pull him in, kissing him deeply. “I like tasting myself on your tongue,” you whisper against his lips, and his cock twitches against your thigh.

“Good. I really wanted to kiss you,” he tells you, breathing heavily.

“Kiss me anytime you want,” you reply, and he lets one hand linger between your thighs, just stroking as he kisses you again.

“Want you to feel good, my love,” he murmurs, lips moving from yours to your jaw before settling just under your ear. “Want you to feel like I felt, coming hard.”

“You’re doing so well, baby; licking and kissing my clit, eating my pussy so good. I fucking love it. Love you. Want your tongue back on me, need it. Can I have your tongue, Brendon, please? Please, B, lick my clit just a little more, suck on it—god, please.”

His breathing hitches, and he pulls back to look at you. “Are you...are you begging me?” His voice is a blend of awe and confusion, like he can’t believe he’s hearing you correctly.

“Yes. Do you like it?”

“Fuck yeah.”

He kisses your neck, fingers thrusting gently. “I wanna hear more,” he tells you, and you grin, biting your lip.

“You’ll hear more when I get what I originally asked for.” You love him, but you don’t beg often; you don’t want him getting too used to it.

“Fuck, you’re so damn hot,” he groans, tugging your hair and moving back down your body, suckling at each nipple and rubbing your clit with one finger when you moan. “Want my mouth all over you, taste every inch of you, my girl.”

“You sure you’re a virgin?” You tease. “Because you’re doing a damn good job at this. It feels amazing, Bren; I don’t want you to stop.”

He smiles wide, kissing your stomach, letting his tongue graze your skin. “I’ve just thought about this, with you, for a while.” Before you can do more than ‘awwww,’ he’s back between your thighs, and his tongue is rolling and teasing while his fingers spread you. You wince a little and move down to bring his fingers closer together, and he murmurs an apology against you.

“S’okay baby, just keep using that tongue and those lips; goddamn, you were made for this.” He quirks an eyebrow, his amusement evident. “I mean—your mouth. Your mouth was made for this.”

He laughs, nuzzling your inner thigh with his nose. “Nice save, Sug; I know why you keep me around now.” You go to protest, and he shakes his head, grinning. “Kidding. Good to know you like it.”

“Fucking love it,” you moan, and with a hand in his hair, you guide him back where you need him. His tongue darts out and licks you softly, and he closes his eyes for a moment, just relishing the moment and you sigh, perfectly content. This is what heaven must be, you think. A hot guy between your legs, eating you out well and looking fucking ecstatic to be doing it.

He’s really into it now, and he groans, slipping a hand under the small of your back to grab your ass and raise you up a little, so he can lick with broader, longer strokes. You whimper and adjust, wanting more attention on your clit. He takes the hint after another bit of shifting on your part, and he murmurs another apology.

“No, it feels so good,” you tell him breathlessly. “I just wanna come for you.”

He pauses, eyes wide. “You’re gonna come?”

You laugh affectionately, stroking his hair. “Well I could try not to, if you’d prefer.”

“No! I just—I didn’t think—I mean…yeah, I don’t know.” He fumbles for the words before giving up, and you giggle.

“You didn’t think you’d be so damn good at eating pussy?”

He nods, his smile mirroring yours now. “You really like it?” God, his face doesn’t match his words at all; he sounds so insecure, and part of you just wants to take him in your arms, kiss him, play with his hair, and tell him how good he is to you and how sweet he is. The other part of you really wants his face between your thighs, finishing what he’s started.

“Hell yeah, Bren, you’re great at this. But I’ve known since we first made out that you’d be damn good at eating me out. It’s just been a matter of time. No one who basically fucks my mouth slowly and deeply when he kisses me is going to be bad at oral.”

Brendon smiles and runs his fingers along you before picking up the pace that he used prior to this most recent praise interlude. “Thank you. I don’t want to get cheesy or sappy, but I’m so glad this is happening with you. I’m so glad it’s you. I want you to come,” he murmurs, letting his tongue slip back and slide over you messily. “Can I have you, sweet baby? Can I taste how sweet you really are when you come for me?”

“Fuck,” you groan, feeling everything within you tighten and shift towards your climax. “Just, god, tongue on my clit; oh fuck yeah, just suck it baby, yes, Brendon, just like that, eat it, eat my cunt, fuck, I’m gonna—oh god—there, right there, baby don’t stop, oh fuck, now!” You dissolve into a wordless squeal and he echoes you with a low groan, slipping two fingers inside you so you have something to squeeze around while his tongue rocks back and forth rapidly over your clit as he sucks. Your grasp on his hair is tight; you’re tugging hard, and you really hope his neck is okay, but you can’t stop.

He’s making these sinful noises against you, and he’s moved from your clit to wide, long strokes to gather your taste. When he pulls back, his lips are swollen and shining, he can’t stop smiling, and you whimper as you reach for him.

“Commere, baby,” you whisper, reaching a hand down. He takes it and moves back up your body and settles over you, his erection resting heavily in the valley of your hip bone and pelvis. “B, I want more. Think you can give me more?” You rock your hips a little and he moans, dipping his head down to kiss you. You tangle your fingers in his hair, moaning into the embrace and shifting so you can really rub against the base of his cock.

Brendon sinks down on top of you; you can feel his cock throb against your clit. You wrap your legs around his waist, tug his hair, and smile when he lets out a sharp sound of satisfaction and pulls away to stare down at you.

“What did you have in mind, pretty girl?” He’s breathing hard, beads of precum are teasing your hip and stomach, and you want him so badly that your entire body is aching. You give him a meaningful look instead of saying anything. You can see the thought process play out over his face: he looks confused, then shocked, and finally excited, though he’s trying to restrain himself. “Wait—really?”

You nod, biting your lip, and he inhales sharply as he subtly rocks his hips. You want him inside you. You need him inside you. “I wasn’t kidding earlier. I don’t want to push you, though; I know this is a big deal for you. So if you don’t want t—”

“No no, I do want to. I mean, only if you’re sure,” he murmurs, trying not to look too eager.

“I’ve never been more sure of anything,” you tell him, squeezing his hand and kissing him again. “I love you.”

“You love me,” he whispers when he pulls back. He looks at you so softly, so tenderly. “I promise, I’m never going to get tired of hearing that. I love you too, sweet girl. So much.” He brushes a hand down the side of your face. “And I want this. I want you.”

You’re grinning at each other, and it finally clicks; you reach out and fumble in your bedside drawer, hopeful you’ll find a condom. On your back like this, you can’t fully explore the drawer, so you roll over onto your stomach to search more thoroughly. Turning under him seems to be an even bigger tease for Brendon; he buries his face in the curve of your neck and rubs his cock against you desperately.

“My god, that’s good,” you gasp, rocking your hips back against him. “Feeling your hard cock right against my ass; fuck, I want you so badly. If I don’t find a condom in the next thirty seconds, I need you to just...grab my hips and fill my pussy up with your cock— oh my god, fucking take me, okay?” Brendon lets out an unintelligible groan, but from how he clutches at you and grinds more urgently, you think he’s agreeing. Your fingers stretch further into the back of the drawer, and you find what you’re looking for. “Got it.”

You pluck the one remaining foil packet from the box and bring it up to your face to examine it. “I’m not sure how long that box has been in there…” you mumble, more to yourself than him, as you do mental math. “At least six years. These are probably expired. It’s not a good sign when the expiration date on the foil is faded…”

You shift to face him and you can see Brendon looks conflicted. For his benefit, you weigh the options aloud. “Technically any condom is better than no condom, but…” you shrug a little. “I’ve got an IUD and a clean bill of health. You want to be a little reckless and fuck without a condom?”

His eyes go wide, and you kiss him, grinning against his mouth. “You look worried, B. Don’t stress. It’s not really that bad of a choice in our specific situation. We can still use this if it’ll make you feel better, but I don’t really think we need to. Also, there’s only one, so when we want to go again, you’ll end up in me without a condom anyway.”

Brendon pulls back and stares at you. You can’t quite read his face, but it seems like he’s grappling with some decision in his head. Finally, he asks, “what happens if you get pregnant?”

“Don’t worry. I won’t. Not the right time, and I’ve got an IUD anyway.”

“Accidents happen,” he points out, and you tug his mouth back to yours for a deep kiss.

When you part, you stare up at him with a small smile. “Then my devious, elaborate plan to trap you with a baby is complete, and my father will be waiting with various firearms to force you into making an honest woman of me.”

He laughs now, because he can tell you’re kidding. “You promise you’re okay with it?”

You nod, stroking his hair. “Definitely. I’m not worried at all, and I want your first time to be incredible. You’d feel me and only me; you’d get to come in me and feel my wet cunt take everything you can give. I need your cock. You wanna give it to me, B?” you murmur, grinning when he groans your name under his breath.

“Fine, you’ve convinced me. But because,” and his face and voice get very serious, “there’s just the one condom, and I would totally marry you if I knocked you up.”

“…Is this a proposal?”

“God no, this would be a terrible proposal,” Brendon laughs, and you relax, laughing too. “I’m going to do so much better, so much more romantic and meaningful than that, whenever we get to that point.”

“Oh, good. Just know I would’ve said yes, but I also would’ve teased you mercilessly about that for the rest of our lives, because it was pretty bad. Now, I need you inside me, please. I’m out of lube too, but we don’t need it—you’ve got me so damn wet for you. Just touch me; use my wet pussy to get your cock nice and slick.” You guide his hand down, rocking your wetness over his open palm.

Brendon sighs your name happily, smooths his hand over his length, and strokes a few times before looking at you with some anxiety. “What if I’m…bad?” He looks as though this question has been weighing on him, and you wrap your arms around his neck and pull him close.

“Oh, my love. First of all, I’m confident you won’t be, but also please know I’m also not expecting the best sex of our lives. We will get there eventually, but this right now,” and you gesture between the two of you, “isn’t about pleasure. Not really. This is about connection. Intimacy. We’re in love, so you can’t be bad at that, and the pleasure will come from the intimacy.” Brendon smiles in relief, and you see some of the tension leave his body.

“And,” you continue, now nuzzling a path along his jawline, “Don’t forget that, as of today, I’m obsessed with your dick.” You capture his earlobe in your teeth, tugging lightly so his cock twitches against you. “It’s truly phenomenal. Should’ve gotten you naked way sooner,” you murmur. “Want your cock in me all the time now. In my mouth, in my pussy, in my hand. You’ve turned me into your personal cockslut. Going to quit my job and follow you around on tour now, just so I can get more access to your dick.” Brendon laughs, and you bite his earlobe a little harder. “Not kidding,” you tease. “You’re gonna have to forcibly lift me off of your cock in order to go on stage each night and I’ll be waiting in your dressing room after, ready to go again. Now, kiss me with your perfect mouth and let me have your perfect cock. We can sort out the tour fucking schedule later.” You roll, so you’re on your back with your knees bent and legs spread. You can see his breath catch in his throat, and you smile, closing a hand around his erection as he hovers over you. “I love you, Brendon.”

He murmurs it back to you, and you guide his cock close enough to touch you. You can feel the warm pressure; you know he can feel how wet you are from the way his eyes close briefly in bliss and his lips part. “Right there, B. Let me feel you. Want you to feel me.”

He presses forward, and you both gasp at the sensation as your body adjusts to him. It’s been a while for you; your toys and your fingers can’t compare to how full he’s making you feel right now. And, on top of that, he’s just filling you—he hasn’t even started moving yet. Still, you’re certain now that he doesn’t have to worry about being bad. Just being in you is making your body tense in anticipation; it’s like you two were physically made for each other.

“God, you feel so good,” Brendon manages in a ragged voice. “So fucking tight and wet and hot, oh my god—this feels so right. You’re mine,” he continues, and you grin, cupping his face in one hand and moving the other to his back.

“Yours, baby. Try moving,” you coax. “You can go slow if you want, but you don’t have to.” At your words, his hips rock forward, and you cry out with pleasure. You didn’t think he could get any deeper, but he has, and you whisper how good it feels, how good he is, as you cling to him. Brendon’s eyes roll back a little at the feeling of bottoming out in you, and his breath is coming in short spurts as he thrusts.

“Did it hurt?” He looks down at you, concern in his eyes.

“What? N—”

“When you fell from heaven, I mean. Because it feels like there’s an angel on my dick.”

You stare at him, trying not to laugh. “Shit, Brendon. You were doing so well. Now I’m sure you were a virgin before this moment, saying something like that. That doesn’t make any sense. What would fucking an angel even feel like?”

“Feels like this,” he teases, and you groan, smacking his shoulder. “You don’t like my lines?” He pretends to look hurt, and you roll your eyes goodnaturedly.

“Honestly? That may have been the worst thing I’ve ever heard.”

“Worst thing you’ve ever heard so far, Sugar,” he corrects, rocking against you at a slightly different angle.

You’re about to reply, but you cut yourself off with a sharp moan when the head of his cock rubs against your G-spot mid-thrust. “Ah, fuck yes! Shit! Just like that—God, B, you’re perfect, fucking perfect.” And he really is; he instinctively knows how to fuck you just the way you like, with his hips angling his cock up against you and his hands roaming.

“Perfect, huh? So am I forgiven for the line?”

You laugh a little breathlessly, digging your nails into his shoulders as he picks up his pace. “Forgiven, but definitely not forgotten. That’s gonna stay with me forever. That’s gonna haunt me.”

He laughs too, and you rock up into him, sighing happily. “Bren, baby, seriously it’s so good, but can you—” you take his hand and place it on your stomach before moving it lower, resting on your pelvis. “Just press a little, oh, a little lighter—fuck—yes,” you sigh, and he leans over to kiss you desperately. It’s during this urgent embrace that you manage, “Remember how I said—oh fuck that’s good—this wasn’t about pleasure? I meant that mostly—holy shit, do it just like that, god I fucking love your cock — in terms of orgasms for me. It’s gonna be really hard for me to come again; I’ve come hard twice, and that’s my limit,” you tell him. “So I definitely want you to come again, but don’t be upset or feel bad about anything when I don’t. I’m doing great; you feel amazing, and I’m loving just feeling you—goddamn, your cock is the best— being with you.”

He shakes his head a little and pauses in his thrusts, frowning. “No, Sugar, you should come again too.”

You shrug, scratching his back affectionately. “I’m just telling you what I know, B. I’ve never come again after two, even on my own. I’ve tried, believe me, but it’s like my body just refuses. It’ll feel incredible, I’ll love how good you make me feel, and you’re making me feel so damn good now, but I won’t be able to come. It’s okay, baby. Promise.”

He considers this, dropping down to his forearms to be closer to you. “And what if I can get you to a third?”

You stare at him longingly. “Then you’ll be stuck with me forever, because I’m not losing a man who can get me to three, especially his first time.”

“Watch me,” he tells you, and you honestly think he might succeed; he sounds confident now, and you’ve always loved that about him. You know it’s only a matter of time before he’s as confident in bed as he is on stage. That thought, paired with the mental image of his fingers flying over his guitar and how that translated to his effortless teasing of your clit and nipples, makes you arch under him and cling to him desperately.

Brendon’s thrusts are slow and steady, and he’s gathered you in his arms to kiss you deeply. “Sug, you’re fucking incredible,” he murmurs against your lips. “Can’t believe how amazing you feel, can’t believe how deep I am in you, can’t believe I get to come inside you—fuck, I’m close.”

You contort yourself around him, a leg high around his waist and the other wrapped around his thighs. Your arms are flung around his neck, and you’re pressing yourself up into him, whimpering when he grabs your hips and lifts you slightly. “Oh god,” you moan, and it’s deep and guttural. That’s what surprises you most—you’ve only ever made that sound right before a mind-blowing orgasm. Sometimes you squeal or shriek right before you come undone, and sometimes it’s like this; a moan of pleasure and bliss that echoes up from your core.

Just the feeling of his hands on your hips, holding you as he pushes you closer and closer to the edge of orgasm, is driving you wild. You know you’re probably being louder than you should be, so you try to channel the energy into clawing at his back and biting down on his shoulder.

Brendon groans your name as your nails rake across his back, and you feel his cock throb inside you. “Gonna come in you, Sug, gonna fucking fill you up with my cum, love you so much, gonna give you everything,” he gasps in your ear. You beg him to do it; you moan how badly you want to feel him come inside you. His thrusts are growing frantic and less refined; your headboard knocks against the wall violently, your bed frame is squeaking in protest as he picks up his pace, and you spread your legs under him.

“Rub my clit and come in me, oh fuck Brendon, yes, fuck me hard, fuck me just like that— really take me, oh god, oh fuck—come in me, fill me up with your cum — c’mon Bren, give it to me, fuck me, fuck me, come in my wet pussy— oh shit, take me baby, yeah, fuck, like that! I’m yours, I’m fucking yours, claim me, claim my cunt, come in me,” you beg, and Brendon makes a low, desperate sound as his thumb teases your clit. You writhe under him, gasping how much you love him, and he pushes in once more, groaning in ecstasy as he comes.

Knowing and feeling that he just came in you is what unravels you completely. You can feel his cock pulsing; you bite his shoulder again, moaning as your body tenses and you come for him. This orgasm, fueled by the feeling of his cum deep in you, is like stars exploding. Every inch of you is trembling, your back is arched, your vision is black and sparkling, and you think you might be shrieking his name as you tremble. You can feel how hard you’ve just come, but the fact that you came at all surprises you.

“My god, you’re fucking incredible,” Brendon mumbles, burying his face in your neck and breathing hard. “Sugar, feeling you come on my cock just now after coming in you —that was everything. And it was your third orgasm.” He looks up and gives you a playful smile. “Consider me stuck.”

“So stuck,” you agree; you can barely find the words to express how good it was. You’re breathing hard, still clutching him, reveling in the feeling of him deep in you, and he drops down to kiss you longingly. You’re both sticky with sweat and smeared cum, and you know you’ve got to somehow get down the hall to your old bathroom. It’s right when you’re about to explain this to him—how he has to pull out of you, and both of you have to get out of this twin bed and take a shower to get presentable before your parents get home—that there’s a knock at your door.

You both freeze, and your mother’s voice rings through the room. “Dinner will be ready in twenty minutes, you two.” You hear her turn from the door and walk down the hall, then turn back. “We’re all looking forward to meeting you, Brendon.”

“Fuck,” you mumble, mostly because your plan for a lazy shower with lots of touching has been foiled. Brendon’s pulled out of you, and you groan, before closing your eyes. “Well, I guess we should go shower,” and you stretch lazily in your bed, missing his cock but loving the feeling of his cum in you. He doesn’t know it yet, but you have no intention of ever using a condom if that’s how being filled by him feels.

“How in trouble are we?”

You open one eye to look at him, and you can see the concern all over his face.

“Not much trouble, honestly. It could be way worse. She didn’t sound mad. I would know if she was pissed. She might not have even heard anything.”

Brendon looks at you dubiously as you say this, and you laugh a little; you recognize the unlikelihood of her not hearing any of it. She obviously knew he was in the room with you, and she’s also obviously been home for a while cooking; she’d have to be either deaf or an idiot to not know what was happening upstairs. Your mom is many things, but she’s neither deaf nor an idiot.

“Now what?” Brendon’s starting to look a little panicked, and you sit up to kiss him softly.

“Now we walk down the hall to the bathroom and take a quick shower.”

“We’re just going to—”

“Well the other option is we go downstairs to meet my family without showering.” You grab his hand and bring it between your thighs, letting him feel. “But I don’t think that’s the best plan, all things considered.”

Brendon’s fingers trace you tenderly, and he kisses you again. “I know this is not at all the point right now, but I fucking love feeling your pussy after I’ve come in you. Feeling us together. So sexy, knowing I came in you.”

“Mmm,” you agree, nibbling down his neck. “Love it. Love being full of your cum, love feeling you come in me. And when we’re not at my parents’ house, we can lay in bed as long as we want, touching and feeling as much as we want.”

He takes your hint, laughing a little as he shifts to stand up. At your curious look, he explains. “Oh, I’m just thinking about how you said you were my cockslut. Pretty sure I’m your pussyslut now. Want to live with my tongue, fingers, or cock buried in you.”

“I can get on board with that,” you tell him with a small grin, slipping into an old bathrobe and tossing him his boxers. “Let’s go shower, B. I’ll try to not drop to my knees and suck your cock clean if you’ll try to not fuck me against a wall.”

-||-

“Where’s your ring?”

You blink at your father in confusion, since this is the first he’s spoken all night, and he looks between you and Brendon, who’s seated beside you. He calmly takes another bite of turkey, chews slowly with his eyes on you, then swallows. His attention is now fixated on Brendon.

“It’s my understanding that the two of you were…spending some time together upstairs. If it was loud enough to distract my wife and my mother from making cranberry sauce, then you must be intent on marrying my daughter.”

“Oh, Paul,” your grandmother protests. “Now is hardly the—” but she falls silent when your father raises a hand. Your mother is flushed, your aunts and uncles all look bewildered and embarrassed at this turn in conversation, while your younger cousins try to hide their smirks by shoveling stuffing into their mouths.

“Dad,” you hiss, wishing you could kick him under the table. Brendon looks pale, and his fingers flex on your thigh. “Can we not?

“Yes, I’d certainly rather you not,” your father comments, eyes locked on Brendon. He’s starting to stammer out an apology, but you silence him gently. Your irritation with your father is boiling over, but you won’t let that transfer to anyone else. “No, don't stop him,” your father continues. “I think I’d like to hear the apology from the boy who thinks he can do whatever he pleases with my daughter in my home.”

Your mother must kick him, because he flinches a little and gives her a dirty look. He turns back to Brendon. “Well?”

The condescending tone and chilly look are the last straws for you. You throw down your napkin. “Oh for fuck’s sake, Dad. Obviously I wish we hadn’t been overheard, but I’m not going to apologize for…being…with the man I love. I’m an adult; you can’t bully me or Brendon like this. I'm sorry you feel disrespected; that wasn’t our intent. I can promise you, neither of us were even thinking about anyone else. Now if you’ll excuse me, I’m going to go pack.”

You push back from the table and grab Brendon’s hand; your mother is standing now too, asking why on earth you’re packing, and your father is silently stabbing green beans one at a time and chewing viciously. Everyone else is just watching in fascinated horror.

“I’m packing because I’m leaving,” you snap. At the crestfallen look on your grandmother’s face, you cross to her and kneel by her chair. “Just to a hotel for the rest of my stay. I wouldn’t miss tomorrow,” you promise her in a much softer voice. Eyes still on hers, you stretch a hand out to Brendon behind you. He takes it, and you bring him down beside you. “Every year,” you explain, “on Black Friday, my grandmother and I watch reruns of the Macy’s parade, bake the first batch of gingerbread of the season, and I help her do her online shopping. We used to drive around, but this is easier, and we can stay in our pajamas.”

“That sounds great,” Brendon murmurs, wrapping an arm around your shoulders. “I can drive you in the morning.” You smile at him gratefully, and your grandmother pats his hand.

“You should stay and help,” she tells him. She must see the surprise in your eyes, and she shrugs. “He’s cute and you apparently like him very much. I should get to know him.” She gives you a sly smile, and you laugh, nodding. You’re secretly pleased; Brendon is the first boyfriend she’s shown any interest in actually knowing.

Meanwhile, your mother has sat back down and is shaking her head in amused silence, your father is staring stonily at his plate, and your cousins are working on sculpting their mashed potatoes into a volcano with a gravy core.

“We good?” You direct this at your mom, who rolls her eyes affectionately and nods. She’s always been far more tolerant of your behavior, calling you her ‘wild child,’ and you secretly suspect she was a bit of a wild child herself.

“You two don’t have to go, you know. He’ll get over it.” She gestures at your father, who lets out an indignant snort. “Ignore him. You’re more than welcome to stay here.”

“Darlin’, wait — you know I love you too, and I love how much you need— but we should probably just — sweet fuck your mouth is good— I don’t think we should— we probably shouldn’t actually—in here right now— oh god, fuck, your hand—” he’s cut off by his own groan of pleasure at the feeling of your hand urgently stroking his dick through his pants. The tone of Brendon’s words against your mouth and the way his cock throbs against your palm both reveal his desperation and arousal, so you don’t feel at all bad for ignoring his feeble protests.

Besides, the two of you have always prioritized each other and being alone or intimate, and you both love knowing how badly the other needs you. Granted, you’ve also always tried to respect work boundaries; however, the way you rationalize it, it’s not like you’re keeping him from a meeting or a performance right now. It’s just the photo op, and they’ve all gotten their shots already. Now it’s your turn to have him, and you intend to.

“No, now. Need you right now, B.” You pull back from the kiss to glance down and undo his pants, unzipping them roughly. He groans your name; you bite back a moan and shove them down by the waistband, your eyes heavy with want. He cups your face in one hand tenderly, and you press a soft kiss to his palm before dropping to your knees in front of him. Satisfied with the way he’s staring at you desperately, you mouth over his briefs, teasing him with your hot breath and relishing the dull thud of his head against the door.

“Baby, what on earth has gotten into—”

“Regrettably, nothing has gotten into me yet, but rest assured, I plan to fix that by getting your cock into my mouth in the next ten seconds.”

“Why—”

You roll your eyes at him affectionately from your kneeling position on the floor. “You’re really not going to let me suck your dick until you get answers, huh?” He laughs a little and shakes his head, making you sigh in mock-exasperation. “Because Bren, you’re fucking incredible and gorgeous and so damn sexy, and I’ve been eying you since four this afternoon when you got dressed. Trust me, if I could’ve kicked everyone out of the hotel room and shoved you down on the bed then, I would’ve. If I could’ve blown you until you were grabbing at the back of my head and fucking my mouth, I would’ve. If I could’ve sucked your cock while you called me your good girl and told me you were going to come, told me you needed me to swallow for you, you know I would’ve. But I couldn’t. And now we’re here, and everyone is staring at you. No one can take their eyes off of you; you look so damn good. They all want you. But I’m the only one who gets you, and I want you. Now.” You’re breathing hard, and you slide your hands up his thighs, biting your lip as you meet his eyes. “Was that enough of an answer? Can I just have you now, Brendon? Please?”

“Jesus— as if I’m really gonna say no to my perfect wife after all that. And she’s down on her knees for me with her gorgeous face and those eyes that drive me absolutely wild? Fuck, I’m the luckiest man.”

You grin and yank his underwear down, closing your mouth over his hard cock. “Love getting you like this,” you moan, pulling back to delicately lick him, one hand encircling the base while the other rests flat on his thigh. “Love feeling you on my tongue. We both know you’re gonna come hard, and I’m gonna take it all for you,” you tell him before closing your mouth over him again. You’re glad you chose to straighten your hair; he’s got both of his hands in it, and he’s tugging slightly the way he knows you like when you’re going down on him. If you had curled it, it wouldn’t be half as easy to fix when you’re done with him.

“God, sweetheart, don’t stop— yeah, suck just like that, baby— I fucking love how you…damn, take my whole cock in your mouth— holy fuck, that’s so good, rubbing with your tongue — so good; you’re so good for me,” he sighs, watching you through hooded eyes. You nod slightly, taking him deeper and pressing in close so the swell of your breasts pushes against him; you can feel him twitch in your mouth, and his grip on your hair is tightening as he moans and rocks his hips forward. You know he’s close already.

The doorknob shakes, followed by hesitant knocking, and you both freeze, staring at each other in horror. If it weren’t such a bad situation to be caught in, with your lips tight around the base of his cock and his balls in your hand, you’re sure you’d find it all quite funny. A tentative voice comes through the door. “Mr. Urie? Mrs. Urie? Uh…if you’re in here...they sent me to look for you.”

Maybe it will be funny later, you tell yourself, but right now, you scramble to your feet, backing away. Brendon tucks his cock back into place with a low groan and yanks his pants up, giving you a playfully scolding look as he checks the full-length mirror to see how obvious his erection is. Satisfied that it won’t be anyone’s first observation, he grabs his belt. The fantasy flashes before your eyes; you cling to him now, one hand rubbing over his cock, and you whisper in his ear how you want him to shove you back down to your knees, bind your wrists behind your back with the belt the way he does at home when you both want it rougher, and fuck your mouth til he comes all over your tongue and tits. It would be so easy to ignore the person at the door and, as you point out, even easier to come in your mouth.

His eyes close for a moment, and you can feel his cock throbbing. Just when you’re debating if you should make him come in his pants, Brendon looks at you desperately, and you sigh in resignation. You know, realistically, you can’t stay in this room any longer. You gesture at the door for him to open it. Instead, Brendon wipes a thumb along your lower lip, and you realize he’s fixing your lipstick. You resist the urge to take his thumb in your mouth and suck—it would only be a tease for you both. Satisfied with his quick clean up, he slides his belt into place and unlocks the door.

The young woman standing there looks petrified, and the clipboard in her hands is trembling. “I’m— I’m sorr—it’s just—they’re trying to get everyone seated now, and they told me I had to—I’m really sorry for, uh…interrupting you,” she stammers, and you feel awful for putting her in this position. Your stomach twists a little when you see the ‘Intern’ badge dangling from her neck. She definitely doesn’t get paid enough to be tasked with keeping you two from fucking. She’s still shaking; this definitely wasn’t what you had in mind when you dragged your husband out of the press area for a quick blowjob.

Brendon takes your hand and smiles gently at her. He’s always been skilled at diffusing tension, and you smile too. Her shoulders visibly relax. “Of course. Lead the way,” Brendon says kindly, and she nods frantically, setting off at a quick pace.

When you’re seated, you squeeze his hand, and he turns to you, his eyes sparkling in amusement. “I’m sorry,” you whisper and he shrugs, still grinning as if it wasn’t a big deal. “No,” you continue, “that was all my fault. I’m really sorry.”

Brendon shakes his head a little. “Don’t even stress about it, babydoll. Was so hot, having you need me like that, and it could have ended far worse. She didn’t actually see anything, but she got enough to have a great story to brag to the other interns who got stuck stuffing gift bags.” He laughs softly, stroking your hand. “I promise I’m not worried, so you shouldn’t be worried.” When you nod, accepting this, his hand slips from yours to high on your upper thigh, where he lets it rest possessively. His fingers flex, and he leans in close. “But you’ll be finishing that later, yeah?” He nuzzles your neck, and you blush, nodding. “Good,” he murmurs. “Fucking love seeing you down on your knees, your sweet mouth full of my cock.”

-||-

The crowd is screaming, the band is rushing off-stage, and his whole face is glowing: performing gives him such a rush. You’re waiting in the wings, and he hurtles toward you with a look of deep intent in his eyes. Brendon grabs you full-force, kissing you hard and pressing you against him with one hand on the small of your back and the other tangled in your hair. “Need you, pretty baby,” he whispers against your lips, and you cling to him. It doesn’t matter how long you’ve been together, it always makes your knees weak when he says that. “Now,” Brendon adds through the desperate kisses, as if that wasn’t already clear.

He takes your hand to lead the way, and you can hear the protesting of the stage manager behind you. The man gives up quickly though, instead barking into his headset that they need two seat fillers for the Uries. Getting people to fill in your now-empty seats sounds like a begrudging acceptance of Brendon’s plan, and you both smile triumphantly at each other. Let everyone else gossip all they want; the only opinions you two care about are each other’s.

Brendon pulls you into the dressing room he used earlier to change from the red-carpet wear to his stage suit. He’s barely got the door fully closed and his suit jacket off before you’re on your knees and snapping his belt open. You get his pants down just enough, practically panting at the thought of getting him in your mouth.

His urgency matches yours; he wraps a hand around his erection and presses the head of that perfect cock against your lips. You both moan a little when you press a soft kiss to his shining tip. His hips rock forward, and you grin up at him.

Brendon is breathing hard, his cock already leaking precum; you’ve got your lips just barely parted to tease him. The head of his cock rests on your lower lip while he strokes over himself urgently.

You love watching Brendon touch himself, love wondering what he’s thinking about when his eyes go dark, his head rolls back, and his grip on his cock tightens. Part of you wants to let him get himself off, because he’d come all over your mouth, chin, and cleavage. Instead, you open your mouth slightly, tongue sliding over his length as he presses forward gently, his hands back in your hair. “Yeah, baby, you look so damn hot like this,” he groans, caressing the back of your head, but not pushing or urging you. “Such a good girl, down on her knees for me and letting me —shit, that’s so good. You’re so damn good; suck for me, baby—fuck yeah, just like that, keep sucking my cock.”

You whimper around him, eyelashes fluttering; he knows what his praise does to you. Brendon’s not usually one for blowjobs—it’s not that he dislikes them by any means—it’s just that, as he says, he gets off on getting you off. You definitely appreciate and take full advantage of that, but sometimes you just want your husband’s cock in your mouth; you want to make him come undone and leave him groaning your name the way he does to you. You feel so proud of yourself in the moments after, when you get to rock back and take him in: sprawled on your bed, face flushed, chest heaving, and body limp after he’s come in your mouth. He always catches you by the wrist and guides you down to lay against him, and he buries his face in your neck, breathing hard and murmuring soft praise. As much as you love the stream of dirty talk while you’re blowing him, there’s something so wonderful about him stroking a thumb over your hip, nuzzling you sweetly, and pressing soft kisses along your skin.

Now, you let one hand curl around the base of his cock while the other wanders down between your legs to rub small circles on your clit; going down on each other gets you both so worked up. You’re grateful for your choice in dresses, because if you hadn’t gone with this wrap dress, the fabric wouldn’t have opened around your spread knees.

“Playing with your clit is my job, babydoll,” Brendon tells you with a touch of feigned jealousy, watching your fingers fly over yourself. You slow down but don’t stop, your eyes daring him to scold you.

He’s about to say something else when his mouth drops open and his hand tightens around the curve of the back of your neck. You’ve decided to tease him a bit; you’re repeatedly swallowing around his length, tormenting him with the repetitive tightening of your throat. You know this might make him come, and you have mixed feelings about that. On the one hand, you do want him to come. You want him to feel incredible. On the other hand, you don’t want to stop. You love blowing him, and you love the way he reacts every time you do. But, back on the first hand, it’s probably time to wrap this interlude up before you get caught again, so you really need him to come.

You’re not actually sure how long you’ve been on your knees, but you can’t get enough of him. You’re both making small, soft noises of pleasure as you give him the leeway to rock into your mouth. The feeling of his cock sliding over your tongue and nudging the back of your throat always makes you wild; with both of his hands on the back of your head while his hips thrust forward, Brendon’s fucking your mouth slowly, but his urgency is building. You move your hand to press flat against his stomach; you can feel his breathing getting shallow, and his muscles are tensing.

Since he dragged you back here, there’s been at least four explosions of applause; you’re figuring it’s been maybe ten, fifteen minutes. You’re probably running out of time before another poor intern is sent to find the two of you.

You regretfully move away from your clit and cup his balls in your slick hand, squeezing gently and pushing them up against him while you take his cock deep again, nose pressed to his pelvis.

“God, baby, I’m gonna come; that’s gonna make me come if you keep—rolling them like that, shit,” he tells you a little breathlessly, his hands tugging at your hair. “Gonna come in your mouth, I’m gonna—oh fuck—you’ll swallow for me, baby?”

You nod, meeting his eyes; when he looks at you, he swears softly, hips twitching forward once more as he finishes. You moan in satisfaction as you swallow, making small, pleased noises and running a hand over his thigh, the other stroking him through his peak, encouraging him to fill your mouth.

“Oh fuck,” he pants, tipping his hips back when he can’t take it any longer. You swallow once more, licking idly at the corners of your mouth to collect every drop. Brendon’s above you, watching intently as he zips himself away, and he runs a hand through his hair before dropping to his knees so he’s level with you. “Goddamn, I love you so fucking much,” he murmurs, kissing you hard. “My best girl, my perfect girl, mine.”

You moan into his mouth that you’re his, and you grab one of his hands to pull it down between your legs and rock eagerly against his fingers. You know you don’t have the time, but you can’t help it. “I fucking love this wet pussy,” he adds as he rubs two fingers against you before sliding them in, muffling your cry of pleasure when he crushes his lips to yours.

Brendon brings his fingers back after a moment, letting the tip of his tongue trace them as he runs his other hand through your hair and stares at you desperately. “God, I need more. Need to taste you, get this perfect cunt all over my face,” he whispers, and you feel yourself get even wetter.

“Bren, we don’t have time; they’re gonna be looking for us— well, for you, anyway. Isn’t your category soon? I can wait. I should wait. We should get back.”

He shrugs as he hauls you to your feet and carries you over to the couch, gently reclining you with his hand still supporting your head. “Don’t care. Need you now,” he insists.

You start to protest again, but he squashes your arguments when he kisses your lips lightly and moves down your jawline, your neck, and to the swell of your breasts in the deep V of your dress. His fingers toy with the tie of your dress, biting his lip. “Need you, pretty baby. Can I have you? All wrapped up in this dress like a present for me…can I have you, honey?” You nod, and he swiftly pulls the tie, the shimmery material slipping and sliding off of your body, leaving you exposed for him. “Damn,” he murmurs, running a hand along your side and tugging your panties down. “Hate that I have to make this quick. I’ll make it up to you later, I promise. Still gonna get you riding my face, coming on my tongue now though.”

And with that, he’s off the couch and onto his knees between your legs, dipping his head down to run his tongue across you while both hands massage your hips and thighs, encouraging you to drape your legs over his shoulders and let him make you feel good, let him take care of you the way you both love. You’re breathless; his mouth is so warm and wet, his tongue just slipping from side to side. He’s teasing, and he tugs you forward by the hips and shifts slightly so his chin presses against you.

Your man has always fucked with every part of himself: he groans and opens his mouth wider to push his tongue deep into you while he rubs at your clit, sighing happily when your hips rock forward, giving him more. You’ve got a hand in his hair, tugging slightly but mostly keeping him pressed against you. “Yeah B, like that,” you whimper as he switches, fingers thrusting deep and tongue rolling over your clit softly. “Oh fuck,” you whisper when he spreads his fingers, rotating them slightly and he looks up at you, eyes sparkling. “Feels good,” you tell him and he winks at you, adjusting his jaw to press his chin against you more, letting you grind in place. As much as you love your clit getting attention, you’ve always loved firm pressure a bit lower, and he gives you that. “Bren, I‘m so close,” you sigh, and he makes an encouraging noise, letting his eyes slip shut to focus on you.

“Want you to come all over my face,” Brendon murmurs, and his fingers, still working you hard, suddenly curl inside you, rubbing and pressing; you shriek, feeling yourself come hard on his fingers and mouth.

“Fuck yes—soak my face, honey,” he groans, tongue slipping from your clit to lap at you; his thumb quickly replaces his tongue, keeping the pressure light but pulsing over your clit. A low moan slips from you, and he gives you one more slow stroke with his tongue, dragging it over you before sitting back on his heels. Once he’s rocked back, he licks his lips and wipes a hand over his face, smirking when you blush.

“Shit, I’m sorry,” you say, and he looks at you incredulously.

“Baby, I told you to come on my face, and I did everything in my power to make sure you would. There’s no need to apologize.” You blush deeper, shifting as he runs his tongue over each finger. “Don’t wanna miss a single drop,” he says with a satisfied smile, and you laugh, feeling how slick your inner thighs are. You run two fingers across them before offering your fingers to him, moaning softly when he sucks at them greedily. “Fuck, honey,” he manages to say around your fingers before sucking hard again.

“You’re so fucking sexy,” you whisper, watching his heavy eyes darken at the taste and the way his full lips slide off your fingers. You’re both breathing heavily, and he pushes himself up, crawling over you and settling between your thighs, chest to chest, his lips seeking yours. “Love you so much,” you murmur, and he repeats it back to you, smoothing your hair.

It would have been a sweet moment if there hadn’t been a rapid knocking at the door. “Mr. Urie, we really need you; your category is coming up and the seat fillers simply can’t fill in for your close-up reaction shot.” The stage manager sounds incredibly annoyed, and it makes you wonder if he’s been trying to get your attention for a while and just couldn’t, thanks to all of the moaning and squealing Brendon was coaxing from you. Now though, you both scramble up from the couch.

“Sounds like we’re in trouble,” Brendon says with a lazy smile, re-tying your dress and pulling his jacket on, adjusting the collar in the mirror and dabbing at his mouth and chin with a tissue. He gives you a once over, and you nod, studying him. His hair is disheveled, but it could pass for getting messed up while on stage. He opens the door, but you push it shut again, kissing him hard and sliding a hand down to squeeze his cock.

“I want more later. Want your cock in me later.”

He nods, teeth catching your lower lip and tugging gently. “Oh believe me honey, you’ll get more. You’re going to get everything I can give you.” Brendon opens the door; the stage manager gives you both a cold stare, turning and beckoning over his shoulder as he sets off at a brisk pace.

When you get back to your seats, the man gives you both a stern look. “No more sneaking off. You’re both going to be professional adults, sit here nicely for the camera, and not give me a stress-induced heart attack.”

None of it was a question. You try to hide your grin, but Brendon openly laughs. When the man’s face darkens, you both promise, and the stage manager stalks off to leave you both simmering in your shame. The only flaw in his plan is that you’re never ashamed of how badly you want Brendon or what you’ll do to get him.

“No, that’s okay; thank you though.” You snuggle in closer. You’d wanted alone time with him, but he’s great at making you feel special even in a crowded room, and you get along well with the guys. It’s a change from your anticipated evening, but not a bad one. And after all, they’ll go home eventually, so you can use this time now to work Brendon into a horny mess—you know he won’t mind. “I’ll just watch for now. You need another beer?” You twist in his lap to glance around the table. “Anyone need one?” The guys look at Brendon, and Brendon shrugs.

“If you’re buying.” He grins and swats your ass when you hop off of his lap, making you shriek with delight as you head for the small kitchen in the corner of the lounge.

“My love, I’ll always ‘buy’ for you.” You crack open the fridge, grab five bottles and return to place them squarely in the center of the table for everyone to grab. “As long as we keep the fridge stocked. But the next round will require a trip to the full bar in the theater, because this fridge is now empty. We should really think about putting a full bar in here too.”

Brendon murmurs that he’ll get the next round and talk to the contractor tomorrow, and then he pulls you down into his lap again, one arm draped over your waist with his other hand holding the cold bottle. You settle back against him happily as he kisses your cheek, but then realize you might be blocking his view. “Will you be able to play with me on top of you? I can pull up a chair,” you offer, and Brendon reluctantly nods.

“That’s probably a good idea,” he sighs. “As much as I love having you on top of me and in my lap, playing will require my full focus. I fear having you on me will draw my attention elsewhere, making me crave a different game—one for just me and my pretty girl.” He nuzzles your neck with this comment while his fingers stroke your waist.

Zack groans under his breath at the innuendo, and you grin, standing to grab another chair and dragging it to Brendon’s side. You might not need to do too much work to get him where you want him; his mind seems to be headed there already. “Oh, we’ll play later, don’t you worry. I’ll try not to be too distracting for now though,” you promise, leaning your head on his shoulder and resting your hand on his thigh.

-||-

“Shit,” Brendon groans, and Spencer chuckles, leaning forward to drag the pile of chips towards him. “I really thought that was a good hand.”

“It was a good hand,” Spencer concedes. “Mine was just better.”

“Fair enough.”

You rub your husband’s upper thigh soothingly. Zack and Dallon both folded in the second round, while Jake and Brendon both pressed onward enthusiastically, only to fall short of Spencer’s straight flush.

“Sweet baby, that feels so good,” Brendon murmurs against your hair as he turns to kiss the top of your head. You smile, slipping your hand up higher, pinky pressing along his zipper. You know he can feel it, because he inhales sharply, coughing to cover it up.

“Just doing my wifely duty to cheer you up,” you reply softly, eyes closed as you move closer and adjust your hand to cup him fully. He knows how much you like to tease, and you know how much he likes you to tease him. “Is it working?”

“Oh baby, you know it is. Alright, Dallon,” he sighs. “Deal.”

-||-

“Read it and weep, boys; read it and weep,” Brendon declares, showing his hand, and the others swear as they realize he’s got a royal flush. “You,” he declares, pulling you in for a long kiss, “are my good luck charm.”

You grin against his mouth. “So now would be a bad time to ask to be dealt in?”

He groans, and you laugh, speaking quickly to reassure him. “I’m just kidding; I’m happy to stay arm candy and your good luck charm.”

He shakes his head with a smile. “You’re so much more than just arm candy or a lucky charm. And you’re more than welcome to play. Double our odds of winning.” You nod, standing to retrieve another round of beers for the table, and you’re considering a glass of wine for yourself.

“Wait,” Brendon protests, standing after you and catching your hand. Your fingers now interlocked, he pulls you close. “I said I’d get the next round.” He seems to read your mind, because he adds, “and I’ll get you a glass of wine, doll. That case of the 2011 Malbec you like so much was delivered earlier. But feel free to walk with me; I love your company, and I’ll need help carrying everything.”

You give him a quizzical look, because you have no idea what wine he’s talking about. Instead of giving any clarification though, Brendon just wraps an arm around your waist as he walks you out of view of the table and down the hall.

In the back of the darkened theater, he grabs you by the hips, lifts you easily up onto the bar counter, presses a quick kiss to your lips, and then whirls around to grab more beer from the fridge. “Don’t move, babydoll. I’ll be right back. Let me just get them their beers first, so they don’t come looking and interrupt us.”

“Interrupt us?”

Instead of replying, Brendon winks at you and disappears back to the lounge where the guys are waiting. When he returns moments later, he moves with purpose towards you and captures your mouth in a deep, heated kiss.

“Thank god this is what you meant,” you moan, wrapping your legs around his waist and grinding against his growing erection. “Need you, B. Missed you so much today. I fucking need my man. You promise they won’t interrupt?”

His hands are in your hair, his tongue is exploring your mouth, and he groans your name when you scratch at his back longingly, begging for his fingers. “They won’t interrupt if we don’t take too long, so we don’t have much time,” Brendon murmurs, sliding a hand down the front of your leggings. “My best girl, always so damn wet for me.”

“Always,” you whimper, rubbing against his fingers desperately. “God, I’ve needed this so badly. Want to come all over your hand, fuck!”

Brendon nods and curls his fingers, smiling into the kiss when you whine. “That’s it, baby. All over my hand. Grind on your husband’s fingers; let me feel your pussy when you come for me. You gonna come on my fingers, all hot and wet? Wish I could lick and suck your clit, get you coming on my face and tongue, but—shit, you like that? Can feel how wet that made you. Yeah, you love the dirty talk, don’t you? Be my dirty girl and come on my fingers; let me lick them clean. Want to taste my girl.”

He hisses in a blend of pleasure and pain; you’ve dragged your nails down his back and are biting at his lower lip as you come. You’d apologize, but you know he loves the pain. Your thighs are tense around his hand, and you’re trembling from the way Brendon’s got his fingers still curled and flexing. When you finally go limp and are left clinging to him, Brendon slips his hand from your panties and slides two fingers into his mouth. He winks at you playfully as he shows you his tongue twisting around them, and you groan, scratching at his chest.

“That’s not fair,” you whine, making him laugh. “Don’t tease. My underwear is already soaked.”

Brendon raises one eyebrow, but chooses to say nothing as he finishes sucking his fingers clean. Instead, he helps you slide off the bar and holds you close for a long moment. You relish his warmth and the firm pressure of his body against yours; you’re already fantasizing about getting him alone after the guys leave.

He seems to share your thoughts, pressing his lips to your temple and promising you can have him soon. His hips rock forward a little, letting you feel how hard he is for you. “Soon,” he repeats. With that, he adjusts his erection in an attempt to hide it a bit better, ducks into the walk-in wine cellar, grabs a bottle to pour you a large glass of wine, and leads you back to the lounge.

-||-

You eye the pair of cards you’ve been dealt and consider, glancing at the three community cards. “Call,” you finally declare, nodding at Brendon, and he looks at you with interest as your other hand slips over the bulge in his jeans. He pushes more chips into the center for you, and Jake raises his eyebrows.

“Why are you handling all the chips, Brendon? It’s your wife’s bet.”

Brendon grins, saying nothing; his hips rock ever so slightly when you squeeze. “Y’all are probably being gross. We should do a hand check,” Jake muses and calls as well. You wonder if he has any idea of how right he is. They can all almost certainly see your arm disappearing under the table at an angle, clearly reaching toward Brendon’s lap. One thing you don’t miss about touring is the spontaneous ‘hand checks’ the band implements for you two; the ones that inevitably mean Brendon slipping his fingers from you or you releasing his cock during movie nights and any other group activities on the bus where you can get cuddled up together under a blanket. Fortunately, Jake seems to be kidding for now.

Zack calls too before standing to go to the bathroom, and you know now is your chance. Once the toilet flushes, you quickly unzip Brendon’s jeans under cover of the sound. He glances over at you, and you smile innocently, wrapping your hand around his length through his boxers. Brendon’s hips raise ever so slightly; you can tell he’s enjoying your touch.

Spencer deals the final community card, making you laugh merrily. “That’s a little scary,” Dallon comments, and you give him a wide grin. “That’s not helping. Okay; two pairs,” he states, sounding only somewhat confident.

Jake tips his cards. “Three of a kind.”

Zack laughs grimly. “Three of a kind.”

Brendon looks at you, and you look back; your fingers tighten a little, and you raise an eyebrow. He caves. “Flush.”

You smirk, stroking a hand over his cock to ease the blow. “Four of a kind, gentlemen.”

-||-

At Brendon’s nod, Zack has made a trip to the bar and returned with a large bottle of Jack Daniels and a single can of Coke. That round of strong drinks, plus your glass of wine and the men’s multiple beers, means you’re all more than a little tipsy. Brendon is leaning back in his seat; you’ve worked your hand into his boxers and are stroking a little faster. It’s probably the liquor’s influence, but you’re not worried about the rest of them seeing anything. Honestly, they’ve all been on tour with Brendon, which means, even with their hand checks, they’ve seen much dirtier behavior from you two than a handjob under a table.

Jake and Dallon once found the two of you contorted around each other in an empty storage closet, Brendon’s hand down your leggings as he loudly encouraged you to come on his fingers.

You’re positive they also witnessed The Germany Incident, in which Brendon had been laying naked on a green room couch with you, also naked, reclining against his chest in his arms and on his cock. He’d been fucking you with deep, urgent thrusts; you had your head tipped back to rest on his shoulder while he used one hand to tease your breasts and had the other stroking over your clit while he worked his cock into your wet cunt from beneath you.

You can still hear his voice, telling you to use your man, use his cock, come all over it, all over him, just let go, really soak him and the couch. He’d pinched a nipple then with wet fingers, making you squeal and cling to his arms. It only became an ‘Incident’ with a capital ‘I’ because you’d come hard and promptly lost consciousness—you later blamed the intensity of the orgasm, but also sleep deprivation from travel, plus some mild dehydration.

At the time though, Brendon had naturally freaked out when you went limp on top of him after shrieking his name, and—according to Brendon’s recollection of the Incident—Jake and Dallon had been there almost immediately to help get water, ice packs, and whatever else Brendon could think of—before he’d even had a chance to call for help.

When you’d regained consciousness, you were laid out on the couch, still naked but covered in a fleece blanket from the merch table with an ice pack wrapped in a t-shirt on your forehead. Brendon had tugged on sweatpants and was seated on the floor by your head stroking your hair, and Jake and Dallon hovered in the background. For the rest of the tour, neither could look at you without flushing deep red.

In hindsight, Brendon admitted, they’d probably been watching from the cracked doorway that had a direct line of sight to the couch. This had made you laugh; you’d kissed him hard and agreed that seeing you sprawled on top of him, legs spread wide while he fucked you desperately, noisily from underneath almost certainly had something to do with their awkward behavior.

As for Spencer, he'd walked in on Brendon eating you out in a dressing room post-show. You’d dragged your husband back there, begging for his tongue, and he’d dropped to his knees without hesitation. Leaning against the wall and hitching your dress up, you rolled your hips forward; Brendon had taken the invitation readily. The tip of his tongue on your clit with two fingers thrusting and spreading and curling in you had driven you wild.

You hadn’t seen him in six weeks at that point, and you were climbing the walls with desire. He’d been on edge too: you heard the zipper of his pants followed by the urgent sound of his hand stroking over his cock. Your eyes were closed in bliss, one hand cradling his head as he worked his tongue over you, and the other reaching down to spread yourself for him with two fingers.

Your eyes were still squeezed shut as you came with a sharp cry, your hips bucking and back arched off the wall; Brendon, his face still buried in your pussy and tongue moving frantically, let out a desperate groan that told you he’d just come all over his hand. At that exact moment, you heard the door open, followed by a low swear and the door slamming shut again. The only way you and Brendon knew it’d been Spencer was the set of drumsticks on the floor.

You can’t even pick the filthiest moment Zack has witnessed in your relationship. He’s found you both in various and complete states of undress in bus bunks, hotel rooms, showers, dressing rooms, elevators, cars, and, on one memorable occasion, an inflated lifeboat on a friend’s yacht.

Brendon had been on top of you, his swimsuit tugged down in the front just enough to get his cock out, and he’d pulled your bikini bottoms to the side so he could fill you. You can still hear the urgent squeak of the rubber and Brendon panting over you, telling you how badly he needed to feel you come for him. His low groan in your ear after you came and he finally spilled into you is still one of your favorite sounds. You didn’t love hearing Zack swear when he came around the corner and then mutter, “you fucking perverts,” but Brendon laughing in that exhausted, post-orgasm way of his and rolling off of you to bury his face in your neck is always fantastic, no matter the circumstances.

Now though, here in your basement, they all might get a live and up-close viewing of Brendon coming all over your hand. It’s not ideal, but you have no intention of stopping, of leaving your husband throbbing and in need of release. Brendon bites his lip, and you’re not sure if he’s close or if he’s just reacting to the newest community card. His hips are twitching though, and he’s giving you a long look, as if to ask, ‘how?,’ and also, just as important, ‘where?’

These are things you hadn’t considered when you started this little tease. You really can’t make him come like this; he’s wearing a dark shirt, and the way he’s slightly sunken down in his chair means he’d definitely come all over his chest. You’re pretty sure it has to be in your mouth. Not that you mind—you love swallowing for him. It’s just the logistics of your current situation.

You briefly consider dropping your phone and crawling under the table to let him finish in your mouth, but there’s a few problems with that. It would probably take too long, Brendon probably wouldn’t be able to keep silent, he definitely wouldn’t be able to maintain a neutral face, and it would just generally arouse his friends’ suspicions. Although, and you glance around the table, you can get rid of them temporarily by appealing to their stomachs.

“Jake, I got that French onion dip you really liked,” you say, trying to control your voice. “You and Dallon should head upstairs and get it. I’m too tipsy to try the stairs.” They nod and stand, and you smile to yourself.

“Zack,” Brendon mumbles, his eyes locked on yours, “will you show Spencer the list of new tour locations? They’ve added a few since we last talked. The complete schedule is in my office.” Zack gives him a confused look but nods, and he and Spencer head down the hallway to Brendon’s office and studio.

As their footsteps fade, you slip out of your chair and under the table. Brendon shoves his jeans and boxers down his thighs, groaning and coming the moment your mouth closes over him. “Jesus fuck, that’s it; swallow for me, babydoll,” he grunts, both hands in your hair as you suck greedily; your head is bobbing as you take him deeper and swallow happily. “This is exactly what I needed; goddamn, my gorgeous wife sucking my cock—making me come, yes, that’s it, swallow, honey—fuck, you make me come so hard; that’s all for you—my cock is all for you, it’s all fucking yours. God, you’d better believe I’m gonna eat your pussy later til you’re screaming my name; I need to get your sweet cunt all over my face before I fuck you the way you deserve.”

You can feel his hips tense as he finishes—he’s fighting the urge to thrust in between your lips. Normally you’d gladly let him fuck your mouth since that’s a good way for him to get hard again, but you both know you just don’t have the time. The guys could be back any moment.

Instead, Brendon’s petting your hair and breathing hard; you’re still between his legs, tongue softly licking him clean and your hand stroking his length gently when you hear footsteps.

“Shit,” you hiss, pulling off of him. Zack and Spencer come back just as Dallon and Jake come downstairs with bowls of chips and dip. You crawl out from under the table while Brendon tries to catch his breath. His friends stare between you down on your knees and Brendon, with his head tipped back, his eyes closed, face flushed, and his lips slightly parted. In your mind, it’s pretty obvious what’s just happened, but your pride requires an attempt at a coverup. “I dropped my phone,” you offer casually, wiping at your lower lip with your thumb.

“It’s on the table,” Zack points out dryly, and you shrug.

“Whoops. I’m drunker than I thought. Could’ve sworn I dropped it.”

“Where were we?” Brendon asks the question loudly to distract the group, and they settle back in their chairs, picking up their cards. “Spencer, I think it’s your turn to act on this round.”

He folds, and Zack deals the last card. It’s your turn; you fold. Brendon and Jake eye each other. Brendon ultimately folds too, and Jake turns his attention to Zack, who tips his hand. Three of a kind. Jake sighs and shoves the pile of poker chips to Zack before downing the rest of his drink. You stand and grab the bottle of whiskey, refilling the drinks in front of each of you.

-||-

“Dammit,” You swear as Brendon flips the fourth card. “Shouldn’t have folded.”

Brendon grins and eyes you. “You know,” he drawls, “you can get back in. For a price.” You arch an eyebrow, and he laughs. “Piece of clothing…or a truth. No dares when we’re this tipsy.”

Jake leans forward, rubbing his hands. “Strip poker; excellent.”

Zack snorts, while Dallon sits back in his chair and says nothing, but his eyes are bright. Spencer nudges Jake hard and looks between you and Brendon, who shakes his head a little, clearly amused by the silent conversation happening between the guys.

“I’m not opposed,” Spencer finally says. “I just don’t want…anyone to feel uncomfortable.” He’s clearly offering this to you; Dallon and Zack agree. You shrug, telling Brendon he plays dirty while tugging your hair tie out and freeing your ponytail.

He leans over and ruffles your hair affectionately. “You love when we get dirty together, doll. The hair tie will work to get back in for this round, but just know that if you lose…you owe another piece.” He looks at the rest of the group. “Are we doing all losers or just the lowest hand?”

You scoff. “All losers.”

Zack laughs. “You’re feeling confident, aren’t you?” You nod smugly as Brendon flips the fifth card. Spencer doesn’t react, Jake calls, you call, and Dallon and Zack both check. Brendon studies his hand, your face, and the community cards before calling as well.

Dallon and Zack both have two pairs, while Spencer sits comfortably with his three of a kind. Jake reveals his flush and you grin, showing off your full house. Brendon shakes his head with a smile. “Sorry, sweetness.”

He drops his cards to show his four of a kind. “You can take the truth if you want,” he offers casually, and you glance at him.

“Do you want me to take the truth?” You’re pretty sure you know the answer, but Brendon appears to consider the question as he takes a long sip of his drink.

“If you’re comfortable stripping, then I’m comfortable with you stripping.” He looks at you meaningfully as he sets the glass down, and you nod. You knew he’d say that. What’s left unspoken is that he knows his friends won’t be able to keep their eyes off of you; you both know that the possessive part of him loves when others can’t stop staring at you.

You both also know it’s a little backward, but you love knowing that they’ll look at you, think about you, and even want you —yet, ultimately, everyone at this table understands he’s the only one you’ll take to bed; he’s the only one you’ll ever want. You pull your cardigan off, letting it hit the floor.

The other guys are more modest and each sacrifice a sock, and you roll your eyes. “You’re all lame.”

Brendon laughs, leaning back in his seat. “They’re just starting slow because they know it’s gonna get a whole lot worse for them. Like you with that hair tie.” He throws a glance at you. “But someone feels confident—going right for the cardigan, hmmm?”

You nod, accepting the two cards you’re dealt and wait patiently.

-||-

“Take it off, baby!” You giggle, helping Brendon get his shirt off before standing and wriggling out of your tank top to reveal your blue lace push-up bra. If the guys notice Brendon’s jeans are still unzipped and half-open from your interlude under the table, they don’t comment on it.

“I don’t even mind losing, because you’re getting naked with me,” you say, reaching out to stroke his bare chest while he traces a finger over your bra strap.

“Gross,” Zack deadpans, crossing his arms. He’s won this round, while Jake has lost his other sock at this point, Spencer too, and the rest of you are shirtless. Brendon is gazing at you steadily over the edge of his drink, and you wonder what he’s thinking. Fortunately, you don’t have to wait long.

He sets his drink down and turns to Zack. “You’re just jealous,” Brendon tells him with a smile, and Zack grins, shaking his head. “You don’t have to admit it; I already know. Everything my wife brings to the table and she looks like this? Fuck, just look at my girl. We don’t mind you guys looking. How could you resist? She’s fucking gorgeous.”

You stretch and preen under Brendon’s praise, and he watches you hungrily. “Yeah,” you murmur, “you can look all you want—just remember I’m all his.”

Brendon finishes your sentence. “And more importantly, I’m all hers, which makes me the luckiest guy at this table.”

He beckons you into his lap, cupping your face as you straddle him. “I can’t even say I lost this last round when you’re on me like this,” he murmurs while he draws you in for a deep kiss. You return the kiss eagerly, moaning into his mouth when his fingers start caressing your breasts. “Can’t ever lose when I’ve got my girl half-undressed and on top of me, rubbing against my—shit, guys, go get more beer. I need a minute with my wife.”

“Only one minute?” Dallon teases in a slightly strained voice, but Brendon is already kissing you again, one hand working its way into your bra and the other grabbing at your ass to keep you moving on top of him.

“Go away,” you moan, grinding down against Brendon urgently while flinging a hand at Dallon and the rest of them. “Go get beer or something, and then count to three hundred.”

“You heard the lady,” Brendon mumbles, rocking his hips up to press his cock into you. “My wife needs five minutes with me.”

You hear their chairs push back, and you rise up high onto your knees above Brendon’s lap once they’re gone.

“You’ve got me alone for the next five minutes. Now what?”

“Now I make my girl come.”

Brendon slides a hand down the front of your leggings. “Fuck, your panties match this bra, don’t they? Can feel the soft lace; wanna get you out of them with my teeth and then lick your clit until you come on my tongue.”

“We have like four minutes left,” you murmur, rocking back and forth on his hand urgently. “You know I want you to eat me out, but we’re running out of time.”

“Grind on my cock then, babydoll; come on your man, get off from rubbing your wet pussy all over me. God, but what I wouldn’t do to get my cock in your perfect cunt right now and feel you lose control.”

He slips his fingers from you; you’re moaning loudly into the embrace, tugging at his hair, and pressing down onto his cock throbbing under you. It feels so good, but you both know that in order to come the way you both want to come, you need to really ride him. “Need you in me,” you groan, and Brendon nods desperately, telling you to do it, take whatever you need, he’s yours. His jeans are still open from earlier; it’s easy to grasp his cock and pull him free. You consider just shoving your leggings down slightly, but you know you won’t be able to straddle him as long as you’re dressed. Instead, you slide your leggings and underwear off fully.

Finally, you spread your legs over him again and, grabbing his cock to press it against your pussy, you sink down onto him. You gasp, tossing your head back as you take him inside you, whining as you settle in his lap. You can feel every inch of his cock, and it’s creating the perfect amount of pressure. Moving urgently, desperately, you grip his shoulders. “Bren, tell me—”

“Fuck yes; you’re so damn hot. That’s it, ride my cock, you’re my best, dirtiest—”

He’s cut off by Dallon yelling from down the hall that you have two minutes left.

You’re both breathing hard. “Running out of time,” Brendon groans. “Come for me, baby. Come all over my cock.” Order given, Brendon buries his face in your cleavage, licking and suckling at the exposed skin. You know you both need more, so you abandon his shoulders to shove your bra cups down. Your nipples now exposed, you gasp happily when he closes his mouth over one and starts rolling it with his tongue.

“I’m gonna fucking come,” you whine, grinding down against the base of his cock while he thrusts up into you. “Shit I’m close; right there, give it to me just like—give me your cock, yes, Brendon yes! Fuck me, oh shit, oh fuck I’m—Bren, now!”

He sucks hard at your nipple, and you shriek, tugging his hair and riding out your climax.

“Oh fuck,” you groan, still moving on him as you come back to full awareness. “God, you’re so hard—you gonna come in me, B?”

“Could,” Brendon grunts, gripping your ass with both hands. “Just need—fuck, a little bit more t—”

“Time’s up,” Zack yells, and you both groan. Brendon rests his forehead against yours and lifts you off of his cock. You make a small sound of protest, but you know it’s no use. Brendon gives you a longing look, and you know he’s just as disappointed as you are. You love when your husband makes you come, but you’d always rather come together. “Fix your clothes, you freaks,” Zack adds. “We’re coming back.”

Exhausted, you guide your bra back into place, slide out of Brendon’s lap, and tug your underwear and leggings on. Before you can get both up over your hips, Brendon slips a hand down between your thighs and moans low in the back of his throat. He loves feeling you after you’ve come for him, loves getting you sprawled out in bed so he can explore your body and see all the different reactions he can coax from you post-orgasm. You both know Zack means it though, and you don’t have the time.

Brendon pulls his hand back, you get your clothes back on, and you curl into his side, nuzzling his bare shoulder. He drapes an arm around you, kissing the top of your head affectionately. “To be continued, sweet baby,” Brendon promises in a low voice before sucking his fingers clean.

The guys walk back in, and Brendon gives them a not-entirely-playfully dirty look. “You guys are the worst. Not even a little grace period?”

They pile back into their chairs, and Dallon shrugs. “She came, didn’t she? What else was there to do?”

You roll your eyes and lean on Brendon’s shoulder, fingers grazing over his cock slowly. You love the way he throbs at your touch. “She could’ve gotten her husband off too,” you tell Dallon, who mimes gagging. “He was close, and you all cock-blocked him. But I’ll take care of my man later. Now,” and you direct this at Spencer, “it’s your turn to deal.”

-||-

You glance at the two cards on the table and wait. You don’t really want to fold, but you don’t have a good feeling. Sure enough, you end up with one pair; you sigh, going for the waistband of your leggings. Brendon’s eyes flit between your face and the delta of your thighs, and it dawns on you.

You can feel how wet your lace panties are, which means the guys would probably see how wet you are through them. That’s a little more than you want them to get right now. You make the decision. “I think I’ll opt to answer a question. Does Spencer get to ask it because he won this round?”

Spencer glances around the table, unsure of what to ask. “I yield the floor,” he jokes, and Dallon leans forward to claim the question.

“What were you really doing under the table when we came back downstairs with the snacks? We know you didn’t drop your phone.”

You exchange looks with Brendon, who just grins and shrugs a little. You take it as permission. “Sucking my husband’s cock,” you say casually, and Jake chokes on his drink. Brendon starts laughing, and Dallon points out that Brendon didn’t actually need to come during your five-minute interlude earlier, since you’d already gotten him off.

“I knew it,” Zack says triumphantly, prompting questioning looks from both you and Brendon. “I mean, I suspected. I didn’t know for sure, obviously. Although you did crawl out from under the table, wiping your mouth with that smug smile.”

Brendon keeps laughing and pulls you closer. “I need another, stronger drink,” you tell him, and he nods decisively. “Shots. Tequila, probably,” you add, and he grins, gesturing for everyone to follow him to the bar.

Once in the theater, he situates himself behind the bar, grabbing a selection of shot glasses, a bottle of tequila, and pouring across the glasses.

“Come and get ‘em,” he announces, and everyone reaches for one. The tequila leaves a warm trail down your throat, and you each set your glass down in front of Brendon. “Another?”

When you all nod, he fills them and his own again. You reach for yours, and he shakes his head. “No ma’am,” he says with a teasing finger wag. There’s a longing look in his eyes, and you think you know where his head is at. “You have to earn your second one. Hop up.”

You know exactly what he wants, and you love it. Doing body shots off of each other reminds you of being on tour with him in the early days: sneaking around, fucking in dressing rooms, and generally partying without any care for the consequences. Just as in love, just as wild about each other, but even more uninhibited and reckless in the best ways.

You accept his hand and lay yourself flat out on the bar, smiling up at him. His eyes roam over your body. “Jesus,” he sighs, taking you in with hungry eyes. “You’re so damn pretty, doll. I’m so fucking lucky to be yours.” With that, he reaches for your waist, and you know what’s coming next. If he’s okay with it, you are too. You both like showing off.

Brendon guides your leggings down, revealing your very wet underwear. You glance around the room in amusement. It’s just like being on tour: Zack and Spencer are taking another shot and studying the ceiling, clearly trying not to notice the way your leggings hit the floor, while Jake and Dallon are both openly watching Brendon’s fingers tease your skin.

“Don’t move,” Brendon warns you now, moving the waistband of your underwear down just a little to lick the newly exposed skin between your hip bones.

“Fuck, I love your mouth,” you whisper, squirming. Brendon winks, grabs the salt shaker, and sprinkles the coarse salt onto you, nodding decisively when it sticks to the wet path he’s left with his tongue. You reach down to your side for a lime wedge, placing it between your teeth.

“Don’t shiver and make a mess.” He maintains eye contact with you as he pours the shot onto your stomach.

“Fuck,” you hiss, and his tongue scoops up the salt, his lips suck up the tequila, and his teeth snap at the lime, sucking hard to tug it out of your mouth. Lime sucked and discarded, Brendon’s lips are back on yours, and he’s kissing you desperately. The combined taste of residual tequila and Brendon’s mouth has your head spinning.

“You earned your second shot,” he murmurs, but you’re not interested in just taking the shot.

“Let me take it off you,” you beg, sliding your legs to the side and finding your footing. Brendon grins, tucking your full shot glass into the waistband of his jeans while leaning against the bar.

“Should’ve known my baby would’ve wanted to get her mouth on me.”

“Damn right.” You lick greedily at his collarbone, pour the salt, and pop the lime wedge in his mouth. “You ready?” You hope he is, because you’re ready to make a scene. The two of you perfected the upright body shot during his Vices tour, and even though it’s been a few years, you know you’ve still got it. Even Zack and Spencer are watching you closely now.

Brendon nods, and you run your tongue back over his collarbone before moving down his body, lips closing over the shot glass and pulling it out of his pants, knocking your head back sharply to take the shot. You drop to your knees in front of him and, finally using your hands, set the glass aside. For the last step, you grab his waistband to bring him to his knees too, so you can seize the lime from his mouth.

“Well shit,” Jake breathes, and Brendon laughs, tugging you close and kissing you deeply. He rocks back off his knees and sits, his fingers running through your hair, and you need him.

“More,” you insist, crawling into his lap, rubbing against him. His hard cock is pressing into you through his jeans, and grinding on him in just your underwear is creating amazing friction. “Get your pants off entirely, B. Let me ride you again, get you coming in my hot, wet cu—”

“Audience,” Spencer interrupts, and you groan, pulling your mouth back.

Brendon is breathing hard, eyes dark and locked on you. “I’m gonna kick our audience out so I can fuck you,” he tells you, ignoring the fact that your audience is present and listening. “Poker night is over; I’ll see you guys later,” he mumbles in their direction without breaking his gaze with you, and they head for the stairs.

“Make good choices,” Zack calls, and Brendon flips him off without looking as he kisses you again.

“Once they’re out of here, you’re mine,” he tells you, and you rock your hips against his.

“I’m always yours,” you remind him and he nods, grasping your hair and tilting your head back gently so he can kiss your neck. “Bren, your mouth feels so good, need you to bite my neck while you fill my cunt; give me all your cum,” you moan, admittedly louder than you intended, and Dallon yells back that they’re still in the house. “Whoops,” you giggle, and Brendon grabs your ass, nipping at your skin.

“Bad girl,” he teases in a low voice. “Letting our friends hear you.” Your eyes flutter closed as his lips move over your neck and down to the swell of your breasts in the push-up lace. “They were so damn turned on by you,” he whispers, running a hand up your side to pinch one of your nipples lightly. “Blowing me under the table, sending them away so you could get off on my cock, letting me lick you all over in front of them, watching you drop to your knees for me…fuck babydoll, they’ll never admit it, but they are so hot for you. Their wives and girlfriends are in for such a good fuck when they get home.”

“God, Brendon…you like your friends getting all horny from me?” You’re murmuring this in his ear as you snake a hand down the front of his boxers. He groans, and you grasp his cock, jerking him off slowly with one hand while the other shoves at his jeans. “You like that, B?”

“Yeah, fucking love it. Love letting them see how goddamn sexy you are, letting them see exactly why I’m so fucking wild about you. Letting them see how I’m wrapped around your finger, completely yours—you’re the only one who gets me, and I’m the only one who gets you.” He moves to your mouth and lets his tongue explore before pulling back. “I don’t quite remember when, except that you were in the bathroom— but Jake leaned over and asked how good of a girl you really are.”

You arch an eyebrow in question, and Brendon smirks. “I told them you let me fuck you any and every day, in any and every way I want, and you don’t just let me; you positively beg for it. You say my name so sweetly when you come and then you plead with me to come in you.” While the possessive part of him loves others getting turned on by you, the possessive part of you loves when he brags about your sex life.

His fingers slip down between your bodies, and he groans when he feels how wet you still are. “And you get so damn wet for me; you really want me to fuck you, yeah?”

“Yeah,” you whisper urgently, bucking against his fingers. “Give it to me, Brendon. Fingers, tongue, cock. Anything, just give it to me.” He brushes a hand over the side of your face.

“And you beg so nicely too,” he comments, rocking up on his knees a little bit to shove his jeans down further, arm tightening around you so you won’t slip backwards. “Slide your panties to the side, honey, and ride my cock, bounce on it like we love.” You obey, body quaking when he’s fully in you. “That’s my best girl,” he groans quietly, unsnapping your bra as you work yourself along his length. “Love watching your tits move while you take my cock.”

“Brendon, you feel so good,” you whimper, and he bites your earlobe. You love being on top, because you can control the exact pace and angle; you can make sure his cock presses right where you want and guarantee you’ll come hard. Plus, the look on his face is always incredible—you love knowing he’s feeling that good just from having you on him. However, sometimes you really want him to take charge and take you.

“Want you to fuck me, B.” He nods, understanding. He curves over you with a hand pressed to the small of your back so you’re lowered gently to the carpet and he’s above you. Your hips are still twitching against his, and he kisses you hard.

“Let me take care of you.” He grabs one of your thighs and lifts it over his hip so he can fill you at a sharper angle. His hair has fallen into his eyes and he flips it out of the way, fucking you quickly with short, rough strokes. “You feel fucking incredible,” Brendon whispers, closing his eyes for a moment, relishing the way you meet his thrusts.

You’re breathing hard, panting, and your fingers are digging into his shoulders. “Incredible,” you echo, desperate for more. “Make me come,” you tell him, eyes wide. “Rub my clit and make me come.”

“Not yet,” he groans, taking both of your hands and pushing them over your head. He’s leaning over you, forehead to forehead, and you arch to kiss him. It’s sloppy and dirty, your tongues teasing and moving together, but neither of you are complaining. “You know,” he pauses to grunt sharply when you contract around him, “fuck, your sweet cunt—you know I like to come together. But I’m so close, babydoll; give me a few more moments, and I’ll come for you.”

“Brendon, I want you to come in me.” The words are plain, and you’ve said them before because you always get the same result. He gasps, his rhythm faltering. “Come in me, just let go and come inside your wife.”

“Jesus Christ,” he hisses, thumb rubbing your clit gently until you grab his hand and apply more pressure. “Oh god, baby, I’m gonna—”

“Fuck Brendon, I—”

“Fuck, fuck, fu—gonna take it all?”

“Yes, fuck yeah, I need it, gimme that hot cum, oh my god, oh— fuck!”

“You want me to give your pussy all my cum? You want it filling your cunt, a hot, slick reminder of who fucks you best?”

“Oh fu—you fuck me best; oh shit, only ever you—god, Bren, fuck my pussy, fuck me, fuck me, fuck me, yes, give it to me, B, fuck! Right th—oh—!”

“Coming,” Brendon finally gasps in your ear, and you let yourself go with a sharp cry as he comes, fast and hot. The heat spreads through you, and you moan, clutching his back and clenching around him. Your entire body is quivering, and his hips move in little spasms as your pussy milks his climax from him.

“I can’t—Jesus, Brendon. I can’t stop— you’re the only one who—makes me come like—” you kiss him, and he lashes his thumb over your clit. “Again; oh God, oh Brendon, baby, yes, yes, yes!”

“That’s my girl,” he whispers against your lips while you thrash under his touch. “I love watching you come,” he tells you and you tremble, coming down from your high. “You’re so beautiful.”

“The same to you,” you say with a grin, your chest heaving as you try to catch your breath while running your hand through his hair. “Love you, Brendon. So much.”

“Love you too, babydoll. So fucking much.” He pulls out of you, groaning your name. “I’m gonna take you upstairs now, and we’re gonna take a hot bath.”

“Mmmmm,” you purr, tracing a finger down his chest. “And then what?”

“Then, tomorrow I’m going to call the contractor to have them add a whirlpool tub to our sex dungeon bathroom so we can clean up and relax there after.”

You raise an eyebrow, and he laughs, gesturing between your bodies. “Want to be able to drag my wife right to the tub after I fill her up with cum and make her soak my cock. Stairs sound miserable.”

“Agreed,” you murmur, clinging to him. “But while you’re on the phone with the—”

“Don’t worry, love,” Brendon whispers against your forehead as he presses a gentle kiss there. “I’ll also mention the full wet bar in the lounge, because that was a great, highly necessary idea. Even if it means we won’t be able to send the guys out of the room or sneak away under the pretense of getting alcohol.”

“No pretense needed. I’ll just tell them I want to ride your dick and I don’t want them to watch, so they need to go amuse themselves in the theatre for ten minutes. As we’ve learned, five isn’t enough.”

Brendon smiles down at you. “My best, dirty girl,” he teases. “So clever. But tonight, after this bath upstairs, I’m going to tease you by licking and sucking every inch of you except your pussy, until you beg for my tongue. And then, I’ll eat you out til you can’t say anything but my name. Once I’ve made you come a few times with my mouth and we’ve made out with the sweet taste of your cunt on my tongue, I’m gonna get you on your hands and knees, so I can give you my cock from behind, just like you like it.”

You whimper, clinging to him and nodding. Brendon strokes a hand over your hair, murmuring, “I know you love feeling me fill you like that, slamming my hips into your ass, working my cock deep into you, rubbing your clit with two fingers and making you lose control.” His soft voice is a contrast to the explicit words, and you love it. “What do you think of my plan, pretty girl?”

“I think you’re the smartest, sexiest, best man I could ever ask for, and I’ll come up with some very explicit ways to thank you for your hard work and generosity.”

He nods, his eyes glued to the scene your phone is still filming. “We should work on that. Need my best and only girl to come just as hard on her own as she does with me.” He laughs a little, stroking himself harder. “Love when my girl squeezes my cock, tightens around my fingers, tenses up when she comes all over me and rubs that wet cunt over my face. Desperately want to feel her every time. But my best girl deserves to come like that whenever she wants, even if I can’t be there. It’s—fuck—important that you can get yourself there too, honey.”

You smile. “Tell me what to do then, B. You know my body best. Teach me.” You’re pleased when he groans and slips his hand down inside his boxers, clearly gripping his erection. You’re still moving your fingers in little circles, waiting.

“Are you wet enough, baby?” He’s brought the camera up to his face, getting a closer look. “If you’re not so wet that your fingers are slipping off that gorgeous pussy, I want to see you suck those fingers.” You let the camera come back up so he can watch you slide both fingers into your mouth, sucking gently. “That’s it, really get them wet. That’s so good, babygirl. Fuck, miss that sweet tongue,” Brendon pants, and you can hear the urgency of his fist over his length.

The sound burns inside you, and it's a molten hot desire that you need to satisfy. “Now slide them out of that pretty mouth and get them back where you need them,” Brendon instructs. “Get your whole hand involved; grind your clit against your palm the way you grind against the base of my cock, honey.”

You don’t waste any time and plunge your fingers down, whimpering as you rock against your palm. “Brendon, it feels good. Wanna ride my fingers the way I ride your cock; fuck that’s good.” You’re still aiming your phone at your face, and he groans. “You wanna see? You wanna see my fingers shining from how wet I am?”

“Fucking hell, please.”

“Only if I get to see those hands I love so much wrapped around your cock, stroking it. I’ll show you mine if you show me yours,” you wink playfully, and he laughs. The camera shakes, and you can hear him trying to get his underwear off with one hand. He’s breathing hard, cursing, and you both freeze when there’s a knock on the door on his side and you can hear Zack calling something. “Fuck,” you mutter, and he closes his eyes, letting his head fall into the hand once desperately trying to shove his boxers down.

“Fuck. Hang on.” He sets the phone down and you hear him call, “What’s up?” Zack’s response is unintelligible on your end, but you hear Brendon. “K, give me one sec,” and you groan because you know this is where he leaves you for now. He’s back on screen. “Baby, I’m so sorry—”

You cut him off with a soft smile. “It’s okay. Go do your job. I love you, Bren.” He returns the smile and sentiment, and you end the call. “Fuck!” You cry, frustrated not with him but with the circumstances in general.

You’re so wet, and you can’t get the image of his hand on his cock out of your mind. It has been thirty-six days since you’ve seen him in person, and while the two of you spent as much time as possible in bed, it wasn’t enough. It’s never enough. You crave him all the time; you get lost in fantasies of his body moving over yours, filling you, holding you, bringing you to multiple orgasms and praising you through each. You’ve had a lot of phone and FaceTime sex over the past five weeks, and it has not tempered your lust at all. If anything, you want him even more.

You lie there for a moment, trying to come down from your arousal, when the idea hits you. You scramble off the bed and start digging for the tripod attachment and trigger you bought when you were going through an amateur photography phase.

It takes you about thirty minutes to get all the shots you want, resorting to a video at one point so you can use both hands. After, you flick through them, and grab stills from the video; you decide against any retouches and send them without a second thought. And now, you wait.

You don’t realize you’ve fallen asleep, that it’s dark out now, until the buzzing glow of your phone and the FaceTime alert stirs you. His contact photo is a selfie he took of the two of you; you’re holding his face and kissing his cheek, and he’s beaming for the camera. It always makes you smile, and you fumble for the ‘answer’ button. “Hey baby.”

“Holy fuck, those photos.” He’s breathing hard and you are fully awake now. “That tripod was the best purchase we’ve ever made, because sweet Jesus I am looking at them now and I am so fucking hard for my girl.” Judging from the background, tonight is a hotel night and he’s in bed.

You smile, stretching out your arms. “Do you have a favorite?”

He looks thoughtful for a moment. “There’s one where you’re on your back and you’ve got two fingers in you and your other hand is squeezing your breast, playing with your nipple.” You make an encouraging noise, and he continues. “What I wouldn’t give to be either hand. How’d you get that shot? You didn’t have the trigger in your hand.”

“It’s a still shot from a video,” you purr, and you swear you can see his whole body tense.

“There’s a video?”

“Uh huh.” You’re teasing him, and he groans, asking if he can have it. “Well, I really only filmed it with the intention of grabbing stills from it…the cinematography isn’t the best…”

“I don’t care; I want to see my girl touch herself. Wait. I’ve got you on FaceTime now. I can have you live and in person. God, you have no idea how hard my dick is, honey.”

You roll over in bed, switching on the table lamp. “Yeah? You hard for me, Bren? You touching yourself?” He nods, eyes closed, and you can see the muscles in his arm working. “Let me see.” He drops the camera down and you gasp involuntarily. “Fuck, you’re perfect.” The words slip out and you bring your phone closer to your face, entranced by how his fist wraps around his length. “Jesus, look at you, B. Thrusting into your hand, wishing it was my tight pussy or my mouth. Can see how much lube you’re using, shit that’s so hot. Fuck, I wish your cock was in my mouth; love having you in my mouth, baby. Love working my tongue down until I’ve taken all of you and your hands are in my hair…but goddamn, if I don’t love getting my pussy filled…how you tell me to spread my legs, and the way you just…god, I miss you.” you whimper, sneaking your hand down to tease yourself.

“I miss you, baby,” he manages to get out, and you can see his fingers flex as his grip tightens. “I miss everything about you.” His hand is moving faster now, and his breath is coming in short gasps as he moves the camera back to his face. “I especially miss the way you’ll get me so close with your hand or pussy then take all of me in your mouth to swallow for me. Fuck, love that.”

“Love feeling you come on my tongue, baby. Are you close?” He nods, and you can see the muscles in his jaw twitch. “I wanna see you come for me, Brendon.” Your voice is low, and your head falls back and hits the pillow as your fingers fly over your clit. “Come for me, baby.”

“Oh god—honey, I’m—shit, shit, shit, fuck oh—” he knows what you want and pulls the camera back in time for you to see both his face as he hits his peak and his cum dripping over his clenched fist.

You talk him through it, telling him how hot it was, how sexy he is, and how much you want to pin him down and lick him clean. He’s running his hand over himself slowly, shuddering occasionally, and you praise him. “My god, Brendon, that was so good. So fucking sexy, seeing you come like that.”

You can tell he’s exhausted now; his eyelids are heavy, and his lips gently parted as he falls back against the pillows. “Fuck, baby, please tell me you came too.”

You shake your head. “I was focused on you.” He frowns and you quickly continue. “But it’s okay. I feel really really good. I don’t need to come to enjoy myself.” He’s still frowning, so you decide to distract him if possible. “How was the show?”

It works. As tired as he is, his eyes light up and he starts telling you about the crowd and the faces he could see and how great the show went. You smile sleepily; he’s doing what he was born to do. “You look tired, honey; I woke you up, didn’t I? You should go back to sleep.”

You shake your head, meeting his eyes. “I’m not hanging up.”

He smiles softly. “I didn’t say anything about hanging up. Get comfy darlin, we’re going to lay together until you fall asleep.”

You let out a little sigh of pleasure, snuggling back into the pillows. “Will you sing to me? I know you’re probably tired from tonight, but please?” You give him your wide-eyed pleading look and he nods.

“Of course. Do you have a preference or is it the dealer's choice?”

You yawn, eyes fluttering closed. “Something Disney. Otherwise, your choice, baby.” You roll over and turn off the table lamp before settling back down. The glow from your phone is the only thing lighting your face and you can feel yourself fading fast.

“Come stop your crying; it’ll be alright. Just take my hand, hold it tight.” His voice is soft but clear and you feel your heart swell. “I will protect you, from all around you; I will be here, don’t you cry.”

“Tarzan.” You smile, and he nods. “I love Tarzan.”

“For one so small, you seem so strong. My arms will hold you, keep you safe and warm. This bond between us can’t be broken; I will be here, don’t you cry.” He pauses, pushing his hair out of his face and you yawn again, burrowing down into the pillow. “Go to sleep, babygirl.” You nod and feel your eyes slip shut. “I love you, sweetheart.”

“Love you too, Bren,” you manage to mumble before totally slipping away and he continues to sing to you.

-||-

When you wake up, phone still in your hand, you have a text from him. It’s from 3 hours earlier; you’ve slept hard and it’s almost 1pm now. “Hey baby, watch for a UPS delivery today. I priority-overnighted you a present. Call me when you get it. Love you!”

You reply immediately. “I’m intrigued and excited. Will keep you posted. Love you too! Hope you’re having a good day.”

He texts back, letting you know that he’s free for the afternoon and thinking about a shower post-workout and then maybe a nap.

You shiver, thinking about him in the shower, tense muscles glistening with sweat. Taking a shower doesn’t sound so bad, and it gives you an excuse to send more photos. You strip down and send him a photo of the pile of clothes outside the shower door before stepping in.

You lean against the shower wall, handheld shower head on your clit while you finger yourself roughly with the other hand and let yourself get right to the edge of coming. He didn’t get to see you come last night after all, and if he’s free for the afternoon, you’re positive he’ll be available for a call.

You’re breathing hard, body coiled with anticipatory need, when you get out of the shower and pile your wet hair on top of your head. There’s no response from him yet, so you slip into one of his faded band shirts and crawl back into bed, willing yourself not to grind against a pillow or your hand. When your phone chimes, you see that he’s sent you back a photo of his own clothes outside his hotel shower, so you text him quickly. “Full disclosure; I’m out of a very hot shower and back in bed in one of your shirts. I can’t stop thinking about you.”

“And…3…2…1.” You count down quietly, and as predicted, his contact photo illuminates your screen. You slide to answer and groan when he appears on screen, wearing his glasses, wet, and a towel slung low on his hips. “Well, hello and good afternoon, Mr. Urie.” He grins, running a hand through his hair and you sit up cross-legged in bed.

“Hi, love. Heard you can’t stop thinking about me.” He drops back onto his bed and rolls onto his stomach to hold his phone out in front of him.

“It’s true.” You hold the phone up and angle down so he can see your wet hair, his shirt, and your lack of underwear.

He whistles, adjusting his glasses. “I can’t stop thinking about you either. Goddamn you are pretty. Love my clothes on you, baby. Also, my email says your gift is out for delivery.”

You preen, teasing your fingers along the edge of his shirt. “Do you really love your clothes on me?” He shifts a little, resting his chin in his hand.

“Well, I’d prefer you in nothing at all but if you must be dressed, this is a good option. It’s certainly easier to get you out of my clothes.”

“How funny, I also prefer me in nothing at all.” You set the phone down and pull his shirt off over your head and let it drop to the floor. “I believe we have some unfinished business from your dressing room?”

He nods eagerly, rolling onto his back and shimmying up the bed. “If I remember correctly, you were just about to show me your fingers all covered in your sweetness.” You feel a rush of heat between your legs and as you’re about to slide your fingers down, there’s a knock at the front door.

You tease your fingers across your folds and gasp a little and his eyes darken on screen. You’re wetter than you thought and you’re about to show him when he exclaims, “Oh! Your present was delivered!”

You pause. “Should I go get it? Even if it means pausing this?” You grin when he nods eagerly, practically wiggling in anticipation. You slip out of bed, scoop up his shirt to throw on, and walk to your front door. There’s a medium-sized box on your front steps and you lift it up to bring inside; it’s surprisingly light for its size. You look at him on screen questioningly.

“Open it.” He is now bouncing with excitement. You slip your finger under the edge and pop the tape before ripping the two flaps up. Your breathing hitches as you rub the lace and silk of the lingerie between your thumb and index finger. “God, you’re gonna look so good in that. But there’s more.” He’s eager, and you can’t help but be excited too. You set the lingerie aside, pawing through the rest of it. You choke a little in shock, but you’re delighted.

“Really, B?” You hold up the package containing the very expensive vibrator and the separate bottle of lubricant. He smirks and you bite your lip. “You spoil me.”

“Well let’s be real. This is just as much for me as it is for you. Thought maybe you could make some more videos for me. I’ll return the favor, of course.” His voice is husky, and a thrill goes through you as you make your way back to the bedroom. “You should try it out. It comes pre-charged.” You can see that his pupils are fully dilated, and you nod, slipping out of his shirt once more. You reach down and brush your fingers across your wetness again, bringing it up to the screen for him to see the glistening. “Damn, honey, you might not need the lube…” he trails off and you see his hand slip down.

“I might not,” you agree, unpacking the toy and examining it. It’s about 6 inches of brushed silicone with an otherwise-realistic tip featuring a concave, slightly textured section you’re already imagining rubbing against your clit. “Fuck, Brendon, it’s so soft and smooth. It’s like velvet. Reminds me of your dick, except purple and not quite as thick. Shit, this is still so nice.” He groans a little and you, wanting to torment him a bit, let your tongue flick out over it.

“I had to find something comparable, but not better. Didn’t want you leaving me for a toy.” You giggle, shaking your head. “Gonna get it ready?” He suggests, and you nod, sliding your tongue down the length of it, rolling and licking and sucking. “Fuck, baby, you know I miss that mouth.”

You pause, and remember the tripod is still set up to one side of your bed. “Hang on, Bren.” You clip your phone into place and adjust it, so the viewpoint covers the bed. You scoot back into view, sitting up with your knees bent, facing the camera. Slowly, painstakingly, you move the toy down and rub it against your pussy, gasping a little.

“Feels good, baby?” He’s sat up more and you can see the flushed head of his cock twitch above his palm as he rubs himself against his stomach slowly.

You nod, thumb finding the power button. “Oh Jesus, fuck,” you cry, hips bucking. “Holy–my god– Bren. That’s good. Fuck.”

“Yeah?” He’s biting his lip, and you nod again, your lips parted as you try to find the words. “You wet enough to slide it in? I want to see you fuck yourself with it if you can. Know you haven’t had anything bigger than fingers in a while…”

You lie back, keeping your legs spread for him, as you tease your entrance with the tip of the toy. You press in and you hiss a little, pulling it back. “Lube.” You pour a bit on two fingers, running them down the length of the toy and then across yourself. “Let’s try that again.” He’s stroking himself now and you can see the shine of pre-cum. Instinctively, your tongue flicks out, searching for it and you feel yourself get even wetter. This time it’s easier to get the toy in you and you have to roll to your side, burying your face in a pillow as you cry out, “motherfucker!” and yelp in pleasure at the sensations.

“No baby, let me hear you, please.”

You roll back, chest heaving. “Bren, I’m not gonna last long. Teased myself in the shower, got myself close, thinking I’d just be fingering myself for you–shit, I’m gonna fucking come!”

“Come for me, honey. You don’t need to last long. I just wanna see and hear you come like you deserve.” You moan, working the toy in and out, whimpering as you hit the ‘mode’ button and the vibrations increase. “That’s right baby, really take it. You’re doing so good, darlin.”

His voice is soothing, and you roll onto your stomach, hips raised and back arched, supporting yourself on a forearm as your free hand tangles in the sheets. “Hope this is as good for you, Bren,” you whisper, and you hear his low groan of confirmation.

“Trust me, the view is fucking incredible.”

You’re rocking your hips along the length of the toy, sliding it in and thrusting quickly before pulling out and letting the intense vibrations from the tip roll over your clit. “Oh fuck, I’m–” you cut yourself off, using your free hand to tug at your hair, squealing and panting.

“Shit, pull your hair, honey. Wish I could. Remind me what I have to come home to, let me hear you. Fuck, babygirl, let me see you come.” His voice is hoarse, and you know he’s close too.

You’re flying off the edge, falling apart, shrieking his name into the pillow as your hips rock and spasm. The toy slips from your grasp as your legs collapse from under you and you’re breathing hard and trembling all over. “Brendon?” You can’t lift your head or roll over to see the camera and instead of a response, you hear a choked version of your name followed by a low groan.

“You okay, baby?” His voice is soft, and you muster all your strength to roll toward the tripod.

“Holy fucking hell.” You whisper, and he agrees.

You’ve retrieved your phone from the tripod and are holding it close as he murmurs soft praise to you, telling you how good you are and how proud of you he is and how much he loves you when there’s a sharp knock in Zack’s signature rhythm on his door. “Son of a bitch, I told him not to disturb me today,” he groans, and you sigh, closing your eyes. “I’m really sorry, baby,” he starts, and you smile, holding up a hand to stop him.

“Don’t apologize. Go answer the door and deal with whatever it is. It’s probably important; he wouldn’t bother you otherwise. I’ll always be here.” You blow him a kiss and he blows one back before ending the call.

-||-

In your perfect world, the next five days would pass with that day’s events, but sans interruptions and extra orgasms. Of course, this isn’t your perfect world, so the next five days actually pass with double the interruptions, less than half the orgasms, triple the frustration, and what seems like an infinite number of explicit texts and photos and videos when FaceTime isn’t an option.

Finally, finally, it’s homecoming day and you find yourself pacing your bedroom anxiously. It’s 8am and he isn’t due at LAX until 4pm. You’ve already showered and done your hair, you’ve done and redone your makeup three times, and have the lingerie he sent you on; you just haven’t decided what clothes you’ll wear over it. You settle on a pair of leggings and a hoodie, knowing the juxtaposition between your outer layer and the intricate lace and silk underneath will be highly satisfying. Also, you won’t draw attention to yourself, which is key if you want to get him out of LAX and home to your bed with minimal delays.

You leave for the airport at 1:30, arguing with yourself that traffic could be bad. You’re sort of right; you arrive at 3pm and you spend the next hour sitting at the baggage claim, tapping your foot anxiously.

The screen changes his flight from ARRIVING to ARRIVED and you’re on your feet, bouncing on your heels. He’s texted you that he’ll be out shortly and he’s wearing a black hat and Zack is in grey. It’s only a few minutes before people start coming down the escalator and you’re scanning heads, and finally you see him. He spots you at the same time and his face lights up.

You’re good and don’t shriek, but wordlessly start weaving your way through the crowd before you’re within pouncing distance. He drops his backpack and holds out his arms and you fly into them, legs twisting around his waist as his hands curve under your thighs to hold you.

He buries his face in your neck, breathing deeply. “Never again, sweet girl. I’m never leaving you again.”

You smile weakly, not surprised to find yourself blinking back tears. “You don’t mean that.”

He looks at you seriously. “No, I mean, you’re coming with me from now on.”

“Oh, okay,” you laugh. “That’s acceptable.” He nods, kissing you hard. The embrace is needy and rough, and one of his hands tangles in your hair, tugging gently to get you moaning into his mouth. Zack clears his throat, and you pull away, waving at him. “Hi Zack. Thank you for keeping him safe.”

Zack rolls his eyes. “Can I continue doing my job and get the both of you to the car?”

Brendon nods, and you regretfully slip out of his arms. “We need to wait on your luggage, don’t we?” You ask as the three of you make your way out. Brendon shakes his head while Zack nods. You know you look confused.

“I’m going to go back and grab it once y’all are in the car. Minimal crowd exposure,” Zack explains, and you nod.

“And this way,” Brendon whispers in your ear lowly, “we have at least fifteen minutes alone in the car.” You grin, taking in his sweatpants and tee, slipping your hand into his.

You make it back to the car, where Zack praises you for your strategic parking. Nose out into an aisle so you’re not sitting in a line of cars forever. You open the back door, and both climb in. “Alright, I’ll be back. Make good choices.” He shuts the door firmly and you blush, wondering if he knows your intentions.

“Fucking finally,” Brendon gasps once Zack has turned away, grabbing you by the hips and hauling you into his lap. You squeal in surprise, feeling how hard he is. “Missed you so much, baby.” He’s slipping a hand down the front of your leggings and into your panties, groaning when he feels you. “Fuck me, you’re so wet. Surprised you didn’t soak through your leggings and get this sweet slickness all over my sweatpants.”

You whine, telling him to finger you, rocking into his hand and moaning happily when he slides two fingers in deep. “God, so tight,” he hisses, letting his head fall back against the headrest. You hold your hand to his mouth and let him spit into your palm before getting your hand down his sweatpants and grasping his erection firmly while his lips attach to your neck.

“We’re going to get arrested for indecent public behavior,” you tell him, stroking him rapidly, and he shakes his head.

“Only if we get caught.”

“We’re in an airport parking lot. We’re literally surrounded by people.”

“And yet your hand is on my cock and you’re fucking my fingers so good. You don’t seem too concerned.”

“Hush,” you tell him with a teasing smile, using your free hand to shove your leggings down before working on his sweatpants and boxers. His erection springs out and you can’t help the moan that escapes you.

“I like this lace,” he mumbles, “I bought this, right?” Without waiting for an answer, he’s pulling it to one side as you position yourself over him before sliding down quickly. You both gasp and he grabs the back of your head, crushing your mouth to his as you rock in his lap. “That’s it babygirl, ride me, fuck yourself hard, use my cock.”

You whimper, telling him you need it harder, gripping his shoulders. His hands find your hips and he starts to thrust up into you. It isn’t long, maybe three minutes before you’re breathing hard. “Bren, I’m not gonna la—"

“Hush” he tells you, grinning. “We’ve got plenty of time once we’re home. For now, I want you to come on my cock.”

“Jesus,” you moan, rocking harder and he’s sucking on and biting at your neck, calling you every sweet name that drives you wild, and you think you’re abo–

“Goddammit you two, you couldn’t fucking wait?” Zack’s voice is loud as the trunk pops open. You shriek, and Brendon groans, his head hitting the headrest while you bury your face in his neck. “Y’all are nasty. Get buckled up, we’re good to go.”

“We were good to go too, my girl was so close to coming,” Brendon grumbles a little as you wiggle out of his lap and slide your leggings up. He pulls his boxers and sweatpants back up and continues to complain good-naturedly about Zack’s timing.

“I don’t wanna hear it. Actually, I’m separating you two. Brendon, stay where you are and get buckled. Babygirl,” and his voice is dripping with sarcasm, “can get in the passenger seat. I don’t want any fucking around back there while I’m driving.”

You know better than to argue with him and obey sulkily. “You know I’m just gonna be sexting her from the back seat, right?” Brendon points out, and you whine.

“Do whatever the fuck you want, just don’t read that shit out loud and no sounds. I don’t care what happens as long as I’m not a witness to it. You know I don’t like that voyeuristic shit.”

Brendon smirks, thumbs flying over his phone, and you inhale sharply when the message comes through.

“Loved bouncing you on my cock like that, sweet girl.”

Another ping. “Want to make you come like that, then I want your hot, wet cunt on my face, rubbing all that sweetness on my mouth.” You’re squirming in your seat.

Another ping. “Can’t wait to feel you come on my tongue, baby; gonna eat your pussy for dinner and dessert until you’re screaming my name and the neighbors all know your man is home, fucking you right.”

“Jesus,” you whimper and Zack groans.

“This is going to be a long drive, isn’t it?” He asks no one in particular and Brendon starts laughing, firing off another series of texts.

-||-

When Zack pulls into the driveway, you’re trembling with your effort to not come just from Brendon’s texts, detailing exactly what he’s going to do to you. Brendon is tapping his fingers against his thigh as his leg bounces; as soon as the car is in park and the garage door is up, he throws open his door and is out of the car, flinging your door open and grabbing you as you fumble with your seatbelt. He drags you from the car, ignoring Zack, and tosses you over his shoulder.

“Brendon,” you shriek, hands clutching at his back.

“Good warm up, baby; you’re going to be screaming my name a lot,” he comments, getting the door unlocked and heading for the stairs. Once you’re in your room, he drops you on the bed and locks the door. “Strip,” he tells you, pulling his shirt off and kicking off his sneakers before tugging his sweatpants and boxers off.

You’ve gotten the hoodie and leggings off as well as your shoes and are spread out on the bed in the black lace set he bought you, legs wide and your arms above your head. “Jesus fucking Christ,” he whispers, pouncing on you and kissing you hard. “These are too pretty to rip off of you,” he comments, dragging the panties down with both hands before flipping you over. “Hands and knees, darlin; I think we both need it hard right now.”

You’re quick to obey and he grabs your hips to pull them back and up until your chest is flat against the bed and your arms outstretched, gripping the sheets. “But before I get my cock in you,” he murmurs, “there’s something I want to do while I’ve got you like this.” Using two fingers, he spreads you and drags his tongue along you, pausing to flick over your clit. As expected, your first orgasm rips through you and he groans, shoving his mouth against your pussy and licking roughly, gathering you on his tongue and swallowing with satisfaction. He doesn’t hesitate for long though before he’s back at work, face buried in you from behind, both hands on your thighs and pulling you back onto his mouth firmly to get better access.

You’re shrieking into the mattress, rocking back against him, and he’s moaning into you, words barely intelligible as his tongue delves into you. “Brendon, fuck!” You manage to gasp when he hits a good spot, and he pulls back. You turn to look at him and moan at the sight. His nose, lips, chin are all wet with you and he licks his lips, eyes closing briefly. “God, baby, get back in there, please. Eat it, B,” you whine, and he grins, flipping you over and lifting both legs over his shoulders before sliding two fingers in and spreading you wide, letting his tongue go deep. He’s flat on the bed, your legs folded across his shoulders and neck, and he’s holding your hand with one while the other plays with your pussy.

“Fucking love you,” he gasps, using his thumb against your clit as your nails rake across his back and your second climax hits. He’s sucking hard now, and you can feel him humping the mattress. He must be close. “Fuck, honey, I need you.” He rocks back onto his knees, fingers still thrusting even though his tongue is gone. He slides into you and you both moan, your thighs trembling around him.

You groan, biting your lip, pleading with your eyes.  “God, Brendon, fuck me.”

“Jesus, babygirl, this time won’t last long, but I will make it up to you,” he promises, and you nod, mouth parted in a wordless cry as he thrusts against you hard. “Can you get back on your hands and knees, baby?”

You nod again, and he pulls out of you, gives your ass a quick swat as you turn, and rocks back into you. The hand holding yours is tight and you squeeze back, while his other hand is tangled in your hair and he pulls it lightly, leaning over to sink his teeth into your neck.

“Holy fucking shit, I’m close,” you moan, your entire body tensing in preparation. He swears; his thrusts are getting sloppy, and his rhythm is falling apart. You know he’s close, so you take charge of the pace, rocking back against his hips desperately as you tremble.

“Fuck, baby, I’m gonna come,” he gasps into your neck and his voice saying those words never fails to drive you wild. With another shrill cry, your pussy tightens around him with your third of the night and he tugs your hair again as he comes, hard. Those words will never fail to set you off, and the feeling of him coming in you will never fail to make you sigh happily. He thrusts a few times, and you can feel how much he came. It’s hot and slick, and you feel completely full and warm.

He pulls out of you after a moment, groaning. You both fall onto your backs, and you cling to his side. Your chest is rising and falling rapidly, and he whispers your name, pulling you to him tightly. His breath is hot on your neck, and you whimper, pressing into him. “We need to shower,” he whispers, fingers trailing along your pussy, stroking gently. “As much as I love feeling my cum mixed with all your sweetness here and dripping down your thighs…we should probably shower.”

“Don’t make me move, B. Love having your cum in me and all over me. Missed it so much. We can clean up later.”

“But won’t it feel…” he trails off and you shake your head. “Okay. We’ll clean up later, sweetheart.” You snuggle against him and feel yourself falling asleep against him.

With your last conscious thought, you press your lips to his chest. “Welcome home, baby.”