
Posted originally on the Archive_of_Our_Own at https://archiveofourown.org/
works/282749.
  Rating:
      Explicit
  Archive Warning:
      Underage
  Category:
      M/M
  Fandom:
      Panic_At_The_Disco, Bandom
  Relationship:
      Spencer_Smith/Brendon_Urie
  Additional Tags:
      First_Time, Kink, Biting, Sensation_Play, Watersports, BDSM, High_School,
      Desperation_Play
  Series:
      Part 1 of Waiting_for_the_End_of_the_World
  Stats:
      Published: 2011-11-23 Words: 3513
****** Waiting for the End of the World ******
by fictionalaspect
Summary
     "I don't know," Spencer says. "Fuck, Brendon. I don't know.
     Everything is weird. This is weird. Can you stay still for me while I
     jerk you off?"
Notes
     All of the titles in this series have been shamelessly stolen from
     Elvis Costello's first album, including this one. Thank you to
     hermette for the beta! <3
“Are you staying here again tonight?” Brendon says, tapping his fingers on the
door-frame that separates his tiny, closet-sized living room from his even
tinier, even more closet-sized bedroom.
"Am I...what?” Spencer says, blinking down at his math homework and then
looking up at Brendon from where he's sprawled out on the futon. He squints,
like he’s not sure how Brendon got there in the first place. Brendon feels like
there’s a pretty obvious reason for him being here, seeing as how it’s his
apartment and all.
“It’s almost 1am,” Brendon says. He pulls his fingers away from the door-frame,
shoving his fingers into his pocket so he can tug his cell phone out and check
the time. “Yeah,” Brendon says, flipping it open. “12:54. You want to stay?”
“Uh,” Spencer says, rubbing a hand over his eyes. In the harsh, uneven light of
Brendon’s two bare bulbs, he looks very young, and very tired. “Yeah. Sure. You
don’t mind?”
“Couch,” Brendon says, shrugging and waving his hand at the ratty old futon
that’s less of a futon and more of a second home for all of his band mates. “Or
bed. Whatever. I don’t care. I was just asking because I’m going to sleep now.
I’m fucking exhausted.” Brendon doesn’t share the fact that he’s actually
apparently already gone to sleep, if the way he’d woken up face-down on his
history textbook is any indication. Now he’s just making it official, that's
all.
“But you’re sleeping in your bed,” Spencer says, after a long pause. "Aren't
you?"
“Yeah?” Brendon says, raising an eyebrow at Spencer. "And?"
“Oh,” Spencer says.
Brendon looks away, shoving his hands into his back pockets. He wants to
explain that he actually didn’t mean it like that, that mostly he’s just tired
and he doesn’t care where Spencer sleeps, but that seems counter-productive to
their new habit of being super awkward around each other. Sometimes Brendon
almost wishes Spencer never came out; it's changed things between all of them,
subtle things that aren't even worth mentioning. Sometimes he worries about it,
worries about Spencer and if he notices--if he cares--but deep down inside
Brendon knows his reasons for wanting to go back in time are entirely selfish.
If Spencer hadn’t come out then Brendon wouldn’t be stuck with this fluttering,
sad little hope in his chest every time Spencer so much as looks in his
direction.
“Whatever,” Brendon says finally, shrugging his shoulders and looking
helplessly at Spencer. He tries to beam are we finally going to talk about
this? in Spencer’s general direction, but Spencer just looks away and fidgets
with his pencil.
“Look, I’m going to bed,” Brendon says, after a few moments of silence. “I
just. Sleep wherever you want, Spencer. It doesn’t have to mean—whatever.
Whatever you think it means. If that's what you're saying. Because it doesn't.”
Brendon is too tired for this.
“Sure,” Spencer says. He’s still not quite making eye contact, and Brendon
gives up, shrugging again and flopping down onto his mattress with a sigh. He
stares at the ceiling and thinks about how he kind of has to piss. He’s had
like four Red Bulls today to stay awake. He should really go to the bathroom.
He’s asleep again within five minutes.
--
Brendon wakes up with his entire body pressed head to toe against Spencer’s,
warm skin against warm skin. It's nice. It’s probably the only nice part of the
equation, considering that the next thing Brendon’s aware of is the way he’s
been sleepily rubbing his dick up on Spencer’s thigh.
Brendon bites his lip, trying to stay absolutely still.
He can feel a thick blush rising on his cheeks, and he can’t quite get up the
courage to look up and see if Spencer is awake. And fuck, he has to piss. He
really, really, really has to piss, and he tries not to think too closely about
how he knows he should have gone earlier and he just…didn’t, which is sort of
like all the other times that Brendon just…hasn’t. He doesn’t know why. It’s a
weird game he plays with himself sometimes, seeing how long he can hold out. He
tends to push himself until he’s where he is right now, hard and breathless and
aching. He doesn't know why. It's just something that happens.
Spencer makes a sleepy, muffled noise.
Brendon tries to stay even more still, tries to hold his breath, as though that
will help him escape. His dick is aching and he thinks the wet tip might be
poking out of his boxers and sliding up against Spencer’s skin, because when he
carefully draws in a deep, slow breath there’s a frisson of pleasure that rolls
up his spine.
He shivers.
Brendon wants to whine at the sensation, wants to roll his hips down and slide
his dick along the soft skin on Spencer’s thigh, wants to move and rut and kiss
Spencer. He can’t. He’s frozen in place, too scared to look up and see if
Spencer’s watching him.
Oh god, seriously. He has to pee so badly.
“Okay,” Brendon whispers, trying to psyche himself up. He’s just going to roll
away, one quick movement, and then he’ll be up and out of the bed and in the
bathroom where he can pee all he wants and jerk off all he wants. Spencer will
never have to know what just happened. He risks a glance, heart pounding, but
Spencer’s eyes are still closed. “One-two—“
“Mmm?” Spencer mumbles sleepily, opening his eyes at the sound of Brendon’s
barely-voiced whisper.
“Oh fuck,” Brendon says weakly. He needs to roll away. His brain is screaming
at him to move but every muscle in his body is suddenly frozen in place as he
watches Spencer wake up, blinking hazily at Brendon from barely an inch away.
Spencer bites his lip, meeting Brendon's eyes in the half-light. He’s barely
awake, Brendon can tell--his eyelashes flutter a certain way in the mornings,
sweet and unexpected. Spencer isn't all that awake, but he's aware enough to
know that that is Brendon’s dick up against his thigh, judging by the way his
eyes are widening.
“Sorry,” Brendon whispers, taking in Spencer’s confused expression, the way
he’s holding himself just as still as Brendon is. “Fuck, Spence. Sorry.
Accident.” As soon as the words leave his mouth it’s like he can suddenly move
again, and he tries to roll away, only to be stopped by Spencer’s arm coming up
to hold him in place.
“Uh,” Brendon says.
“Don’t go,” Spencer whispers. His cheeks are flushed, and Brendon can't tell if
it's from sleeping or sudden nerves.
“I’m all,” Brendon says helplessly. Spencer’s holding him really tightly, and
it’s making everything ache and feel good in equal measure. It’s the hardest
thing in the world not to rock up against Spencer’s thigh. Fuck, it’s the
hardest thing in the world not to pee on him right now. Brendon doesn't even
know how to feel about that.
“It's okay,” Spencer says, pulling him in tighter. He looks a little turned on,
a little freaked out. “It’s okay, I mean, I wanted, but I thought you didn’t
want—“
“I want,” Brendon manages, because holy shit, apparently they're going to do
this now. It's been months and months of stupid, pointless tension and now
Brendon thinks he can just barely feel the edge of Spencer’s erection pressing
up against the outside of his thigh and oh fuck, oh fuck. Brendon’s been
jerking off to the thought of seeing Spencer’s dick for the past six months,
and now he’s going to. Now they're going to--
Oh fuck.
“I can tell,” Spencer cracks, giving him a small, breathless smile, and Brendon
tries to smile back but seriously, he can’t sit still any more and he can't
breathe and his stomach is twisted in delicious, desperate knots.
“I have to go,” Brendon says helplessly, and Spencer’s face falls.
“Oh,” Spencer says, drawing his arm back.
“No, that’s not like—fuck, that’s not an excuse,” Brendon says. “I just really
have to. I’m going to like. Fuck, don’t go anywhere, okay? Just stay right
here. I have to piss so bad, seriously. Jerk off or something. I’ll be right
back.”
“You sure?” Spencer says, starting to relax again at Brendon’s words. He grins.
“You can’t just, I don’t know. Wait?” His arm comes up around Brendon’s back,
tighter than before, and Brendon is seriously going to burst. He thinks there’s
probably something wrong with him that this feels so good. Every cell in his
body is tingling with desperation.
“I can't wait any longer,” Brendon mumbles, his voice cracking. “It's stupid, I
was waiting before, and now it’s sort of—“ He gasps as Spencer suddenly pulls
Brendon up, and on top of him, because holy shit, that is Spencer’s dick, and
he’s so hard for Brendon. For Brendon. Brendon wants to immortalize this moment
and take pictures and record it for posterity but it’s all he can do not to wet
himself on top of Spencer because oh fuck, the pressure.
Spencer groans, licking his lips and looking at Brendon helplessly. “You’re so
hard,” Spencer whispers, pushing his hips up. His mouth is all pink and shiny
and Brendon suddenly realizes that they haven’t even kissed yet.
“We should make out a lot after I go to the bathroom,” Brendon tells him,
because he's desperate and his stomach aches and he can't stop squirming and
his brain-to-mouth filter is pretty fried. “I want to make out with you all the
time, I always do. But we should do it afterwards. After I piss.”
“We could do it now,” Spencer says, rolling his hips again.
“Oh fuck,” Brendon says weakly. He’s going to pee everywhere. “I---oh fuck.”
“I always want to kiss you,” Spencer says. “I get on these weird obsessive
loops in my head where I can’t stop thinking about kissing you.”
“Spencer,” Brendon whimpers, because Spencer is pulling him in, tightening his
arms around Brendon’s lower back. His mouth is so close and Brendon wants to
kiss him so badly and then Spencer rolls his hips up one more time, a slow
grind, and Brendon lets out a soft whimper as his body gives in and he starts
to go.
Spencer chokes on thin air at the first sensation of wetness, looking at
Brendon with wide eyes, and then Brendon is up and off the bed and stumbling
into the bathroom, his legs shaking as he pees into the toilet. The relief is
so strong it makes his head swim, and he throws a hand out to one side to hold
himself up against the wall. His thoughts are soft and white and formless until
he's done, until the spike of endorphins suddenly fades and he's left staring
down at his dirty toilet bowl by the faint light of his ancient Mario
nightlight trickling in through the open bathroom door.
Fuck, he totally just peed on Spencer.
Brendon cannot actually believe how much of a fuck-up he is sometimes.
He shakes himself off and washes his hands, avoiding his own eyes in the
mirror. His cheeks feel hot to the touch. Brendon thinks desperately positive
thoughts about how he can probably convince Spencer to forget this ever
happened if he offers to blow him and maybe also do his laundry.
“Brendon,” Spencer says, his voice pitched in a carrying whisper from the
bedroom. “Can you, um. Can you bring some tissues or something in here?”
“Yeah,” Brendon says, his heart sinking. Of course Spencer would want to clean
himself up. Brendon peed on him. He grabs the spare roll of toilet paper,
setting his shoulders as he walks back into the room. He crawls in bed and
hands Spencer the toilet paper and—
“Oh,” Brendon says dumbly, because Spencer’s dick is soft and flushed and
sticky against his stomach, very obviously spent.
“I’m sorry,” Spencer mumbles, sounding miserable. “I couldn’t wait. I didn’t
mean to, I was just trying to—“
“It’s okay,” Brendon says. He leans forwards, brushing the tips of his fingers
through the streaks of come on Spencer's belly. He’s never touched anyone
else’s come before. It’s weirdly hot, warm on the tips of his fingers. He wipes
them off on the bedsheet after a moment, feeling awkward.
“I’ll take care of you, though,” Spencer says hurriedly, wiping himself down
and rolling over so he’s on his side. “Please. Let me. I want to, I think about
this all the time.” Spencer looks a little desperate. “You don’t even know,”
Spencer says, his hand hovering somewhere between Brendon’s jawline and the
curve of his shoulder.
“I, ah,” Brendon says, looking down at his own dick, which has gone entirely
soft and feels a little sore from all of the rubbing and grinding. Sore in a
good way, but still. Brendon’s pretty sure he isn’t going to be able to get it
up again for a while. “I kind of,” Brendon says. “That whole peeing on you by
accident thing was kind of a boner-killer.”
“It’s my fault,” Spencer says immediately. “Don’t feel bad, I totally wasn't
listening when you said you had to pee, dude. I was just. Kind of blinded by
everything.”
“Me too,” Brendon says, shuffling a little closer.
“I’m really sorry,” Spencer says. “I shouldn’t have done that.”
“Keep apologizing,” Brendon says, looking down. “I think it’s working.”
“Really?” Spencer says.
“No,” Brendon says. “But I made you look.”
“I like looking anyway,” Spencer says, in a softer voice. When he meets
Brendon’s eyes again, he looks scared yet determined. “Can I kiss you?” Spencer
says, in a small voice.
Brendon takes a deep breath. Brendon can crack a joke with the best of them but
until tonight, that’s as far as it’s gone. And now Spencer is asking if this is
real, if this is something they’re going to do to get off together in the
middle of the night, or if this about something more than sex. If this is
something that Brendon is willing to admit to when they're not lying together
in the dark.
“I told you,” Brendon says, even though his voice is shaking slightly at the
edges. “I want to make out with you all the time.”
“I thought maybe you didn’t mean it,” Spencer says, and suddenly his mouth is
closer than before. “People say all sorts of shit in bed.”
“I meant it,” Brendon says, and then Spencer’s tongue is teasing at the seam of
Brendon’s lips and Brendon feels himself opening, relaxing into it, letting
Spencer take the lead. It’s real kiss, nothing dry or tentative about it.
Spencer’s mouth slides against Brendon's, warm and wet, and he's kissing just
like Brendon’s seen him kiss girls before, one hand in their hair, focused,
overwhelming. Brendon thinks that maybe even when he didn’t understand what it
meant, he always wanted to be the one Spencer was kissing like that.
“Wow,” Brendon manages, when they pull apart to breathe.
“I really like you,” Spencer says, swallowing hard. “And I’m really bad at just
fucking around and playing games. You have to tell me if I’m too forward.”
“I like forward,” Brendon says, leaning in for another kiss. Spencer makes a
soft, frustrated noise. “No, for real,” Spencer says. “I mean, before, when I
was dating Jenna and Kristen. I just. I don’t know, they both told all of their
friends I was really intense.”
“I like intense,” Brendon says, leaning in and managing to meet Spencer’s mouth
this time. He thinks about Spencer’s hand tight around his lower back, pressing
him down, and he shivers again. “I’m really into intense. It’s a thing.”
“I’m just saying,” Spencer says. He kisses Brendon’s lower lip. “I don’t want
to fuck it up. And if I am fucking it up, you have to tell me so I can stop.”
"Deal," Brendon says. "And, uh. Yeah. Me too. And stuff."
"Okay," Spencer says. "I'll try not to fuck it up."
"Why are you so worried about fucking it up?" Brendon says, kissing momentarily
forgotten. "It's not like either of them dumped you over it or anything. What
are you so freaked about?"
"I told you," Spencer says. "I just don't want to fuck everything up. Sometimes
I say weird shit and sometimes I come on too strong and you have to just tell
me so I can stop, okay?"
"I like it when you say weird shit," Brendon says. "That thing about the tomato
the other day was fucking hysterical."
"Not like the thing about the tomato," Spencer says, rolling his eyes. "I
meant--fuck it, whatever." He rolls over, onto his back, and for a second
Brendon thinks maybe Spencer is pissed off that Brendon isn't taking his weird
relationship freak-out seriously enough but then Brendon realizes that all
Spencer's doing is repositioning himself for better access to Brendon's neck.
Brendon groans under his breath, tilting his head back so Spencer can graze his
teeth just below Brendon's ear.
"Do it," Brendon says, without thinking. He feels Spencer suck in a breath, and
then he bites, sharp teeth and a strong grip and Brendon feels his dick pulse
against Spencer's thigh at the sudden shock of pain. The sensation rides the
edge of too-much for a long, long second.
"Shit," Spencer says, pulling away after he realizes that Brendon hasn't moved
an inch, that he's holding himself absolutely still.
"Wait, no," Brendon says, curling his fingers into Spencer's side when Spencer
tries to shuffle out from underneath him. Spencer's cheeks are flushed in the
half-light, hot to the touch. "No," Brendon says again. "I was--didn't you want
me to stay still?"
Spencer blinks up at him. "Oh," Spencer says.
"I thought that's what you wanted," Brendon says. "I wasn't trying to say no."
Spencer looks away from Brendon, over Brendon's shoulder. "I hurt you," he
says, after a moment.
"I liked it," Brendon says. "Sometimes I like stuff like that." His stomach
twists, curling up, but it's a less terrifying admission than a lot of other
things Brendon could admit to right now. Pain releases endorphins. They've been
learning about it in health class. Brendon's pretty sure that one is almost
normal.
Spencer gives Brendon a considering look. "Yeah?" Spencer says, looking
hesitant.
"Do it again," Brendon says, tilting his neck. "Do it harder this time."
"Are you sure?" Spencer says.
"And jerk me off," Brendon says, and usually when he's getting himself off
thinking about Spencer he's not the one giving the orders but maybe Spencer
needs a little encouragement. Brendon doesn't get why Spencer's being all weird
about this.
"Fuck," Spencer says quietly, and then he's sinking his teeth into Brendon's
neck again, nipping rough and quick, pushing his teeth in hard enough to make
Brendon cry out involuntarily. He slides his hand down between their bodies and
wraps three fingers around the head of Brendon's dick, over his underwear.
Brendon jerks down against his hand, and Spencer sinks his teeth in harder
before pulling back and choosing a new spot.
"Do you want me to move?" Brendon gasps out, trying to breathe through the
sensation of Spencer's mouth biting at the curve of his collarbone. "Or do you
want me to stay still?"
"Stay still," Spencer growls. His voice is low and intimate, close to Brendon's
ear, and hearing Spencer say that out loud does something vicious to his
insides. His dick pulses again, trapped against Spencer's hand and Brendon's
thigh.
"Okay," Brendon whispers. "See that was kind of my point, why were you being
all weird about it?"
"I don't know," Spencer says. "Fuck, Brendon. I don't know. Everything is
weird. This is weird. Can you stay still for me while I jerk you off?"
"Yeah," Brendon says. "Bite me more, come on. I like the way it feels."
"Fuck," Spencer says, and rubs his thumb over the head of Brendon's leaking
dick.
"You're not doing this fast enough, hurry up," Brendon says, and then all of a
sudden Spencer's biting him really fucking hard, teeth sinking in like
everything that came before was just a warm up for the main event. Brendon
yelps, his hips jerking uncontrollably into Spencer's fist and then he's coming
hot and desperate into Spencer's hand. Tonight is apparently not the night he's
going to impress Spencer with his amazing skills in the bedroom.
"Okay, next time maybe not that fast," Brendon mumbles. Spencer's mouth is soft
against his neck, soothing away the ache. Brendon twists his neck from side to
side. It feels like there's at least two spots that are going to bruise. The
thought makes him feel warm and desperate deep down in his belly.
"Next time?" Spencer says quietly. "You're still cool with--"
"Yeah," Brendon says, nudging at Spencer's cheek with his nose until Spencer
raises his head and slides his lips against Brendon's. Brendon kisses him for a
moment, stomach swooping. "Next time."
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