Couched in Terms Easily Understood: gift for dapatty

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Title: Couched in Terms Easily Understood
Author: dancinbutterfly
Pairing(s): Brendon/Spencer
Rating: NC-17
Warnings: mild jealousy, canon stage gay, sex
Word count: ~1,700
Summary: Brendon pokes at Spencer's jealous side and gets just what he was hoping for.


"I told you," Spencer says, leading him into their dressing room and slamming the door shut behind them. "I told you not to touch either of them tonight." He throws the lock, because they both know how this is going to end before it even starts and won't want to be interrupted.

Brendon smiles at the thought. He can't help it. When Spencer gets all bossy his immediate reaction is to laugh it off. His secondary reaction is to get turned on. The combination is a sort of giggly erection mix that can either distract the hell of him or, if he can get Spencer in on it, make for truly excellent if slightly pushy sex. "Really? It seemed more like a suggestion to me."

"Jesus H. Christ, Brendon. You're killing me," Spencer growls, actually growls, all throaty and deep. Fuck, that's hot.

He's been prodding Spencer's territorial side for the last dozen or so shows. Dallon's tall and thin and broad. He leans back into the space that Brendon opens up every night and his neck is always right there, covered in sweat under the stage lights. If Brendon licks it away, he can hardly be blamed for that. Ian's a whole different set of problems, compact and fitting perfect under his arms when he sings, enthusiastic and talented.

The way he behaves around them during shows is not his fault, really. He's powerless against that kind of temptation and always has been. Spencer knows that. Of course, that is the point of this little conversation He swallows down a smirk and gives a half-hearted shrug. "Sorry."

"Oh, the fuck you are," Spencer says as he crosses the room. "Like you're ever sorry for that." He grabs both of Brendon's arms, fingers digging in. Brendon's knees go a little weak in response and he thinks "yes, this" as Spencer gives him a little shake and loosens his grip. "It wouldn't be so bad if you weren't so greedy," Spencer adds on a sigh that Brendon recognizes as the very essence of his sexual frustration.

"What do you want me to say?" Brendon asks. It's another deliberate prod, jaw cocked and eyes flashing.

In response, Spencer's entire expression tightens from the set of his mouth to the look in his eyes. He looks hungry and Brendon is doing his best to present as the perfect meal. "That you're mine." He says finally.

It kills Brendon, sucks the fun out of teasing and makes him go pliant, to know how much Spencer wants him. It's what makes the taunting worth it as much as it urges him to drop the game. "You know I am."

That earns him another delicious little tug, pulling them tighter together and providing evidence that Spencer can do anything he wants with him, that Brendon trusts him to do it. "I want to hear you say it. Please."

There's no way Brendon can say no to that. It's just not possible."I'm yours."

Spencer is kissing him an instant later. He doesn’t let go, just pulls Brendon flush against his chest by the forearms, fingers digging in again. There will be bruises where his fingers press. He will feel the ache every time he moves his arms, Brendon thinks and the thought makes him moan. Spencer chases the source of the sound with his tongue. Brendon would wrap his arms around Spencer's neck to hold himself up if he could, but instead sags into the vice grip and lets his mouth be taken. It's best it's been in days, so much better than rushed blowjobs in gas station bathrooms and the quick and stifled handjobs they trade in the cramped space of their bunks, shushing each other with kisses and bites into fabric. He doesn’t know where Spencer is going to push him next, if the kiss will break or keep going until Zach bangs on the door and drags them out to the bus. It keeps his breath short and his dick so hard that Spencer has to feel it.

Five minutes or five hours later, Spencer breaks the kiss just enough to breathe, to speak. He lets go of Brendon's arms, finally, and slides his own arms around Brendon's chest. Then he rubs his nose against the side of Brendon's and says "I don't like it."

Finally, Brendon wraps his arms around Spencer's neck like he wanted. It's a good feeling, safe but still so fucking sexy with his hard on pressed against Spencer's leg. He leans forward enough to nip at Spencer's lower lip before asking, "Don't like what?" even though he knows the answer, knows what Spencer is thinking and has been since the set got up and rolling.

"Your hands on anyone but me," Spencer murmurs. The admission sounds pulled out of him. Confessions of territoriality always sound reluctant when they fall from Spencer's lips. Brendon loves them more for that though, even if he does spend a lot of his time trying to provoke more out of him.

"So make me forget them."

"We've got a bus to catch."

"Fuck the bus," Brendon declares with a roll of his hips. "It's not like they can leave without us."

"Zach is going to kill us dead."

"I can make it worth your while."

"Slut." Spencer says, fond.

"Mhm. I am. A big slut. You should teach me a lesson for being so slutty on stage."

"For- Oh Jesus, Brendon. That's what this was about? If you want to get spanked you should just ask. "

Brendon grins at him. "It might be but I can be very bad on stage – all that adrenaline."

"So not a spanking then. You should just tell me what you want so I could do it."

"But then it wouldn't be real. Come on Spencer. I practically dry humped Dallon on stage tonight. What's that make you want to do to me?"

Spencer breathed out sharp and fast. "Make you feel me."

"Yeah? Show me." He leans forward and bites at Spencer's chin, tasting hair and sweat. "I dare you."

He spun around in Spencer's arms his back pressing briefly against Spencer's front, feeling his hard on for all of a heartbeat before he's shoved. It's so unexpected that he falls forward. He doesn’t hit the ground because one of those worn faux leather couches that all dressing rooms seem to have is within landing distance.

The cushions are worn thin, scratched black pleather showing scratches of white in places. It's soft under his palms but he can feel straight through to the wooden beams underneath the fabric. It's old and creaks under his weight but Spencer doesn’t notice and Brendon definitely doesn’t care because there are hands on his hips – strong, calloused and unforgiving in their solidity.

"I wanna fuck you right here. Just like this."

"Yes," Brendon gasps, arching his back, only playing his desperation up a little. It's mostly sincere, only a hint of theatrical enticement thrown in for spice.

"No condom," Spencer groans. He grinds against Brendon's ass through their slacks and god that's good. Not enough, but a tease that makes him sweat and his fingers clench.

"It's just us. It's only us, you know that. You don't need it."

"And lube?" Spencer asks punctuating the question with a roll of his hips. "You think we need that?"

Okay, fucking fine. He wants Spencer pushy and grabby, sure, but a dry fuck with no prep – and there really was just no time – wasn’t his a good idea of a good time. "Spencer."

Spencer bent over his back mouth to his neck. That was better. His hands released Brendon's hips and moved to his fly. "So you'll get off right here." He slides his hand into Brendon's pants, palming him through his briefs. "Just like this because you're mine. Show me how much you want me, Brendon. Messy through your clothes, just like this." He grinds his hips harder against Brendon's ass and they both moan. Brendon isn’t sure he can do it but he wants to. He wants to do anything Spencer tells him.

"Please." Brendon whimpers. It's liberating to push into the touch in front of him, behind him, pressing against him warm and familiar and everything Brendon wants.

"Please who?" He demands. The movements of his hands are punishing for a moment as he no doubt remembers Brendon on stage, with his tongue on Dallon's skin, his arms around Ian's neck. It's so good. It's amazing. It's worth every second.

"Please, Spencer."

"Come for me, Brendon. You want to prove you're mine come on. Do it." His voice is a rumbling growl that vibrates through Spencer's chest even as his hand moves over Brendon's cock, unrelenting pressure and friction a stark contrast to the slick wetness of his mouth on Brendon's neck. He's powerless to do anything but obey, coming hard and fast into the fabric of his briefs, getting them sticky. His world goes dark as he squeezes his eyes shut and rocks into Spencer's palm, back against his cock and then slumps down face first into the couch.

Spencer follows, landing almost on top of him. Brendon can feel he's still hard but when he reaches back blindly to touch, Spencer catches his wrist. "No."

"But-"

"You said you want it my way. I say no. We don't have time."

"I can make time." Brendon says directly into the nearest sofa cushion. He can feel the heat of his own breath blowing back in his face and he wants to remind Spencer of what he can do when he's sweaty and out of breath, how pliant and good he can be like this.

"No. Brendon, I want your mouth later. We don’t have time for how I want you now."

It's a compelling argument. Brendon sighs and nods because in for a penny and all that shit. He tips his head back and nuzzles at Spencer's for a moment neck before zipping his pants up over the mess in his underwear. He stands then holds out a hand to Spencer. "You want to come out and sign with me?" he asks.

It's an innocent enough question, nothing they haven’t done before. But this time Brendon will still be smelling of come, of the pleasure Spencer had pulled from him, marked even while out on display – even if only they knew. Spencer's eyes darken and he nods. When he takes Brendon's hand, it's a promise.