#brendon urie smuff

[loverontheleft]

Artist (revised)

Revised 02/2023

Brendon x reader

warnings: mild consensual bondage, language, mild dominance, fingering, oral, protected sex (yay condoms; make good choices), now with fluff! and I think that might be everything.

9.1k words

-||- the present -||-

Oh fuck, Brendon— please,“ you moan, fingers grasping for the silken ties holding you in place and your hips arching.

A pair of dark eyes flash up at you in amusement as he nibbles gently at your inner thigh. "Patience, baby,” he chides gently, running his tongue over the bites. Brendon’s fingers softly stroke your skin as he lifts his head to look at you. “This is still okay, isn’t it?” He must notice you struggling against your confines.

You can’t find the words to express how turned on you are, how more than okay you are with being tied down and spread for his own enjoyment; the sensation from the light touch of his fingers is shooting electricity straight to your core, but you nod emphatically. He gives you a small grin and chuckles to himself as you bite your lip.

“Good. I’m not done exploring.” You can’t stifle your sharp whimper of pleasure at his words, and he smiles again, stroking your face tenderly.

Releasing your lip from its confines, you make steady eye contact with him. “I want you.” You’re reasonably confident he knows this, given your prone position and willing participation all night, but it can’t hurt to remind him.

His eyes darken ever so slightly, and his lips return to your inner thigh. “You’ve got me,” he murmurs against your skin. Without another word, both fingers and tongue move into the delta of your hips, and you’re speechless again as he dips his tongue into you, running the length of your pussy. His fingers move to your hips, gently applying pressure as his tongue works your body into a frenzy heretofore unknown to you. He looks up, locking eyes with you and you whimper. He’s obviously enjoying himself and that might be the most enjoyable part for you.

Well, no. The way his tongue moves flat against your clit, stroking and teasing and urging you onward toward orgasm, is definitely the most enjoyable part. But seeing how much he loves eating you out is a close second. You inhale sharply, desperately wanting to tangle your hands in his hair. His eyes are closed now, dark hair matted slightly to his forehead, and you attempt to raise your hips to give him better access. You know that if he continues like this, you’ll come in no time. He pulls away from you right as you think this, and you can’t help the whine of disappointment. “Don’t stop,” you beg. His thumbs move in circles over your hips as he gazes at you.

“Don’t come yet. Savor it.” With those words, his mouth moves decisively north. His tongue runs over your lower stomach, drawing small patterns against your skin as you writhe under him. Upward, upward, until his hands encircle your rib cage and his lips and tongue find the underside of your breasts. You’re breathing hard, chest rising and falling as he captures your left nipple in his mouth, fingers of one hand moving to stroke the right while the other continues to caress your side. Your head is spinning, hips desperately bucking—you need more.

Brendon shifts to kneel over you, pressing a strong thigh in between your own and you bear down against him—the friction is exactly what you need. A simultaneous groan between you both before his lips continue their journey upward. He’s kissing your neck, hands moving over your breasts. You roll your head back, giving him full access to your collarbone and neck. His tongue traces a path up to your ear before teeth latch onto your earlobe, tugging gently. He nuzzles against you, whispering that he loves feeling how needy you are, loves how you hump his thigh desperately, loves feeling your wet pussy on him, and he promises that he’s going to take such good care of you.

“I know,” you manage to respond before his mouth is on yours. It’s gentle, almost sweet—you pause in your grinding against his thigh—your lips touching as his hands move to the small of your waist. After a moment, his lips urge yours apart, deepening the embrace, and you can’t help remembering how this night began.

-||- flashback -||-

You hadn’t intended on sticking around after the benefit auction ended. Galas were not your thing, and your strapless bra was torture. You’d stayed past your speech thanking everyone for attending, and your PR manager had nodded, giving you her blessing to sneak away. You worked your way through the crowd, eyes down to avoid tripping over the hem of your very heavy, intricately beaded dress. It should have been no surprise that you crashed into him, and your heel slipped out from under you—his reflexes were quick though, and he caught you with one arm around your waist.

“I’m so sor—” you were halfway through an apology when you looked up and your words caught in your throat. “Oh. You’re—” but you couldn’t finish the statement; you were too stunned.

He gave you a warm smile, setting you on your feet and offering a hand. “Brendon. And you are?”

You shook it, slightly in awe as you mumbled your own name. You prided yourself on your general ability to remain levelheaded in most situations, but if there was one man who could break you, it was him.

“I don’t mean this as rudely as it’s probably going to sound, but…why are you here?” You gestured around the ballroom at the tables your event planner had supervised the arrangement of earlier that morning and the large banners with different cats’ and dogs’ images emblazoned across them with bold numbers announcing your foundation’s rescue and adoption success. He shrugged, following your gaze.

“I love animals. I want to help them. This foundation lets me do that. Why are you here?” You smiled back at him now.

“This is my foundation, actually. I’m not big on parties, so now that my PR woman gave me the go-ahead, I was planning on making an Irish exit, but I think I’ve ruined that,” you explained, putting your weight more evenly on both feet and wincing at the pain. He immediately looked concerned, and you waved a hand. “I’ll be fine, there’s a lounge in the back where I got ready; I’ll go and ice it and elevate it and whatever.”

He shook his head. “I’m not letting you walk alone and fall again. You obviously need me.” His tone was flirtatious; you laughed and accepted his proffered arm, admitting to yourself that it was certainly a helpful and very appealing arm. “Lead the way,” he told you, and you set off for the private lounge.

He pushed open the door and followed you in, looking around the room with interest. It was a hybrid lounge and dressing room, and you’d scattered the space with cosmetics and various gowns, indecisive until the last minute. You blushed. “Sorry it’s so messy. I thrive on chaos.” You dropped onto the couch and leaned over to release the straps of your shoes.

He shook his head, sinking down into the couch beside you and offering a hand toward your foot. “No judgment. Chaos—so, is that why you chose to cash in your trust fund and start a foundation for strays who just need a second chance?”

You blinked at him, raising your injured foot ever so slightly and allowing him to lift it into his lap so he could free you from these damn shoes. “How did you know that?” The question was, admittedly, a silly one. You’d founded a very successful charity, one that was gaining more and more attention than you could really process. The fact that he was not the first celebrity you had seen that evening was a testimony to that fact.

He gave you a small smile. “I do my research. I like to know exactly where my money is going.” Instinct kicked in and you shifted slightly, thanking him for his donation. He waved your thanks away, correcting you, “No, thank you for taking my money and doing something important with it. You said you had ice?” He was looking around the small space and you pointed helplessly to the ice bucket in which the unopened bottle of champagne still rested with a towel dangling over the edge.

He rose, placing your foot gently on the couch, to cross the room and returned with the towel as a pouch of ice. He really was beautiful. You gazed at him in casual amazement as he sat down again and lifted your ankle into his lap to apply the ice and inspect it carefully. “The good news is,” he told you while rotating your ankle slightly, “I don’t think it’s anything more than a twist. Your swelling isn’t bad and there’s no bruising. But I’m not a doctor so…” he looked up and shrugged.

“Do you have a lot of experience with damaged bones?” He chuckled, pretending to be offended.

“Well now I know you’re not a fan,” he joked, moving the ice so it fully surrounded your ankle. “Let’s just say I’ve had my fair share of clumsy moments.”

You shook your head. “I am, actually.” Brendon looked up at you quizzically and you continued. “I’m a fan, I mean. I’m freaking the fuck out on the inside. You’re incredible. Probably my favorite artist.” He glanced at you with equal parts gratitude and caution, eyes steadily on yours while you cursed internally for not being more aloof. “Don’t worry, I have excellent self-control.” You smiled faintly and gestured at your elevated ankle still in his grasp. “Besides, you could definitely outrun me.”

He laughed, nodding. “Well, that’s reassuring.” He shifted slightly and lifted the ice to check your ankle again. “So, tell me everything. How did you start this thing? What did your parents say? What’s the best part? What’s the worst part?”

You relaxed back into the couch, letting him lift your other foot into his lap and tried your best to answer all of his questions. He seemed genuinely interested in your foundation and how it worked, and this was a good way to ensure you stayed in control of your feelings.

You had been talking for at least an hour, each leaning in more and more until your head rested on your knees to gaze up at him and he was curled into the couch facing you, one hand stretched across the back of the couch and the other resting over your ankle protectively. He had freed your good foot from its shoe as well and occasionally, almost idly, he would begin massaging a foot, his eyes never leaving yours.

You were struggling. He was funny, charming, kind, an animal lover; he was insanely attractive, and you were far closer to him than you had ever imagined being possible. He hit a particularly good spot in the arch of your foot and—you moaned and quickly bit your lip to stifle it, embarrassed. His eyes were on your lips when he glanced down at your ankle and jerked the towel away. “I’m so sorry. I’ve gotten you all wet.”

You choked, shifting slightly, feeling the truth of his words between your legs. Still, you couldn’t believe what he’d said. How did he know? “What?” You stammered, and he met your eyes with some amusement, realizing his own double entendre.

“The ice. It’s melted. I must have gotten you all wet.” He repeated in a slightly different, more insinuating tone. He gave you a slow, seductive smile that said he knew exactly what he was doing and saying. You leaned forward again, gazing at him steadily, feeling infinitely more confident from his, what you hoped was, flirtation.

“I kind of want to kiss you.” You couldn’t have stopped the words if you’d tried. His eyes darkened and his grin faded. His original demeanor, lighthearted and fun, was gone and had been replaced by one of desire.

“I want you to kiss me. Come here.” Brendon released your ankle and shifted, patting the couch closer to him. You moved closer and gasped as his hands tangled in your hair. Your lips brushed over each his; it was tentative and gentle, and you were hyper-aware of your rapid pulse. He brought you even closer, lips teasing yours, and he whispered against your mouth, “I want to really kiss you.” You nodded; he murmured his thanks and kissed you firmly.

It was still simple and chaste, until he nudged your lips apart and pulled you closer, tongue seeking out yours. You couldn’t help it; you let out a soft moan and pressed yourself closer still. The kiss quickly turned heated and urgent. You cursed yourself for this long dress that was keeping you from getting in his lap as his hands cautiously moved over the curve of your exposed cleavage in the dress. You arched into his touch, and he looked up into your eyes. 

With a hand on the back of your head, he lowered you slowly back to the couch. “Is this okay?” His voice was rough, and his eyes were heavy as he watched you reach for him.

“More than okay,” you assured him, tugging him down on top of you. “Kiss me.”

 Brendon stretched out over you, propping himself up with one forearm while the other hand roamed your body. Even with your dress keeping you mostly prone, you could still rub back against him, and you could feel how hard he was. You were contemplating how forward it would be to stand up and shed your dress, but instead you focused on getting him undressed. You pushed at his jacket, and he let it fall easily to the floor. With shaking fingers, you freed each button of his shirt until he could slip his arms from it, and you stared at him shirtless above you. 

“Is this real?”

“This is real,” he reassured you, and he sank down lower into the embrace, holding you to him. His hands were all over you, and you were scratching at his back, desperate as his kisses increased in fervor and desire. You’d never been so turned on just from making out with someone, but you were sure if he’d been able to get his hands under your dress, he’d make you come with just his touch.

You weren’t sure how long you’d been kissing when he pulled back, staring down at you. His face was flushed, lips swollen, and his hair was a mess; you could still feel his cock pressing insistently into the delta of your thighs, and you were acutely aware of how wet you were. 

He cupped your face tenderly, stroking a gentle thumb over your lips. “You’re stunning, and fuck, I want you so badly,” he whispered, resting his forehead against yours. There was a rush of heat from your head to your core, and you felt dizzy with desire.  “You can tell me to leave, or we can stay here, and just keep making out. That’d be great.” He opened his eyes and looked at you intently. “Or you can come with me.”

“Come with you?” You thought you knew what he meant, but you didn’t want to assume. He kissed you again, like he couldn't imagine doing anything else, breathing hard and nibbling down your neck.

“To my home,” Brendon clarified, his voice husky and his hands still stroking over your body. “I want you to come home with me. If you come home with me and we keep going, I promise I’ll make you feel so damn good. I’ll make it so fucking good for you, baby.”

Your entire body tensed at the term of endearment, and you guided his mouth down to yours for a desperate kiss. It was through the urgent, messy embrace that he mumbled, “but you can tell me that you want us to stay right here, not do anything more than this, or you can just tell me to leave. I’ll call you a cab, so you get home safely. I don’t want to push you. Fuck,” and he pauses, groaning your name and pressing his hips to yours. “I want you, but I don’t want to push you.”

“How will we get to your house?” You asked the question a little breathlessly as you considered the optics of leaving your event with him, and he cupped your face and brought you close for another kiss.

“I’ve got a private car waiting out back.” The words were murmured against your mouth, and you clung to him. You both knew you’d made up your mind.

“Take me with you.”

-||-

If his driver was surprised at the extra passenger when the two of you climbed into the back of the limo or noticed that Brendon’s shirt was buttoned wrong, he didn’t show it. Brendon had you pulled in close beside him, one arm slung low around your waist and caressing your side as you rested your head on his shoulder, and the other reaching across to your thigh, where it lingered possessively. 

The drive was a long one, taking you out of the inner city and out into the more peaceful and private neighborhood developments. As the lights of the city faded, he guided you into his lap. “Need your mouth,” he groaned, and you whined, reaching down to lift the heavy hem of your dress so you could straddle him. He groaned again when you pressed down against his cock, and the friction he created by thrusting up into your soaked panties had you tugging his hair and moaning his name.

The drive continued, and you desperately considered unbuckling his pants and riding him. Before you could do that though, the limo pulled to a stop. Then, as you passed through a large security gate, Brendon pressed warm kisses down your neck. “We’re here,” he told you softly.

Once the limo parked, Brendon took your hand and opened the door, helping you out of his lap and bringing you out into the fresh air of the night. His house towered behind him, but you were focused on his face and his arms around you. “How’s your ankle?” He sounded concerned, but you waved this away.

“I’ll be fine.” You gave him a sly glance, raising your eyebrows a little. “Besides, I don’t plan to be on my feet much for the rest of the night.”

“You’re damn right,” he murmured, lifting you easily and locking an arm under your thighs. “Unless you need anything first, I’m taking you to bed,” he told you, and you nodded eagerly, urging him to take you to bed. He approached the garage, tapped in a code on a panel, and carried you inside. Part of you was curious, wanting to look around the house as he made his way toward the stairs, but his neck and jaw were more interesting; you occupied yourself with pressing hot, urgent kisses over his skin. He groaned, gripped you tighter, and wasted no time getting you upstairs.

Once he hit the second-floor landing, he nudged open the closest door, laid you out on his bed, and then stepped back to lean against the wall opposite you. “Do you want anything? Need anything?”

“Want you,” you said simply, and you beckoned him closer with the curl of one finger. He moved to the bed eagerly, and you moaned happily when he laid you back, crawling on top of you, and kissed you feverishly.

“Tell me to stop,” Brendon said, and he pulled away to stare down at you. “Tell me to stop if you want me to stop at any point.”

You bit your lip and shook your head. “Please, don’t stop.” His mouth was on yours again, his hands exploring more desperately, pushing down the dress and your bra to gain better access. You made quick work of his tie and pushed his suit jacket off of his shoulders, fingers searching out the buttons of his dress shirt as his lips moved down your neck.

“Don’t stop,” you repeated, struggling with the third button of the shirt. Without breaking contact, he moved a hand and, grasping the shirt firmly, pulled roughly and sent buttons in all directions before shrugging out of the now torn material.

“Fixed it,” he mumbled against your chest, tongue exploring and teeth occasionally nipping gently at the exposed skin, testing your reaction. You yelped in pleasure, arching your back to press closer, running your hands over his own back, exploring the muscles and smooth skin you found. He paused, rolled off of you, and ran a fingertip along the neckline of your dress that was now pushed down to your stomach. “I want this on the floor. Is that okay?”

You stood immediately, not even flinching at the faint pain from your ankle. He shifted on the bed, sitting up, and reached behind you to the zipper. With one deft move, your dress pooled on the floor, and he pulled you back into his lap.

You gasped in pleasure, feeling his erection pressing through his dress pants as you straddled him. His hands relieved you of your bra and you pressed yourself more firmly against him as his mouth returned to your chest. Instinctively, without thinking, you started grinding down on his cock, the friction setting your whole body on fire. He responded just as enthusiastically, thrusting back up against you, a hand grasping your hip firmly to control your pace, all while he murmured soft praise against your skin.

“You’re amazing,” you whispered, before tangling your hands in his hair to bring his mouth up to yours. You kissed him again. “I need you.” It was true. You weren’t sure if it was one thing or, more likely, a combination of everything; his tongue exploring your mouth, his thumbs making small circles against your hips, the strain of his erection…but you felt the pressure building and knew you were close.

He must have known it as well because he gently lifted you off of his lap and, shifting carefully, laid you down on the bed. He stood beside the bed, slipping his belt free and stepping neatly out of the pants. You didn’t know if you’d ever been worried about coming from the sight of a man getting undressed above you, but it was a very real possibility as he shed his pants. He left his boxer briefs on and sat back down on the bed. You moved to straddle him again, whispering in his ear how badly you wanted to come for him, how close you were already.

“Not yet.” He murmured, stroking the side of your face. He must have seen the frustration and desire in your eyes. It was these things present in his own that had you slipping out of his lap and off the bed to kneel in front of him. Your fingers traced up his thighs, tugged his boxers down, and wrapped a hand around his flushed cock. It was hot and heavy in your hand, and you wanted to feel that weight on your tongue. You wanted to feel that warmth as he filled you.

“Oh, baby. No.” Brendon’s hands stopped yours and he searched your face, realizing how you interpreted his refusal to let you come. “You’re going to come first, and then several more times, before I come. Getting a guy off is easy.” He smiled ruefully and continued, his eyes hooded with lust. “The female orgasm is an art and I intend to remain your favorite artist.”

With that, he drew you back up to the bed and reached for the tie you’d discarded earlier. He looked at you, the question in his eyes, and you nodded, still feeling the thrill of him calling you ‘baby.’

“It’s okay.” You shifted onto your back and raised your arms above your head so he could secure the tie around your wrists and bind you to the headboard. He glanced down at you and you nodded again, testing the restraint. “It’s good. Not too tight. It’s good. I think it’s so hot, having you tie me up.” You grinned and he looked at you for a moment, running his eyes over your entire body.

“You’re hot,” he corrected as he adjusted the tie a little. “Tying you up just emphasizes it. You know you can stop me at any point, but here’s what’s about to happen, assuming you don’t stop me.” He swung a leg over your body to hover over you completely. “I’m going to explore and taste every inch of your body.” A thrill of pleasure sent a shiver through you.

He continued. “I’m going to make you come with my fingers and when you think you can’t take any more, I’m going to do it again with my tongue.” You were biting your lip now, desperate for him. “And then,” he paused to lean down to run his tongue along the shell of your ear. “And then, I’m going to fuck you so good that my name is the only thing you can think or say.”

You shifted with pleasure. “I should warn you; I was an English major. I know a lot of words.”

Brendon laughed, running his hands down your stomach to rest at the edge of your silk underwear. "Then I’d better get to work.” In one fluid motion, he had your panties around your ankles and two fingers stroking you gently. “Fuck, you’re wet,” he murmured, moving his free hand to caress your face.

You pressed your cheek into his touch, both of you letting out a small gasp of pleasure as he slid both fingers in. He stroked your cheek with his thumb, all the while steadily working you with his fingers. “More?” He asked, and you nodded desperately. He increased his pace, adding his thumb to apply gentle, steady pressure to your pelvis. “You feel so good,” he said as he stretched out beside you, going deeper than before, eliciting a moan from you. “I can’t believe how wet you are for me,” he continued, and your pleasure spiked as the walls of your pussy clenched around his fingers. You leaned forward to capture his mouth with yours.

After indulging in the kiss, matching your urgency and passion, Brendon pulled away. “You like this?”

You nodded quickly, spreading your legs slightly and rolling your hips up into his hand. “I love it. All of it.”

Brendon grinned, nipping at your neck. “Good. Because you feel so good and I am gonna lose my damn mind over how warm and wet and tight your pussy is, how I want to just bury my cock in you and how I am going to make you come like no one before.”

You were biting your lip, eyes closed while he talked. You were close, and his words were pushing you closer and closer to the edge. “Oh fuck, don’t stop,” you begged, looking at him imploringly.

“You like me fucking you with my fingers, don’t you? You love how deep I go, how good it feels when I spread them apart, getting you ready for my cock. You love my thumb on your clit, rubbing and rubbing until you can’t stand it and you just explode.” His words fell right against your ear, and you could feel his cock pressing against your thigh.

As promised, he was spreading his fingers within you, stretching you wider. His thumb started over your clit, and you let out a small shriek of pleasure. Brendon smiled against your neck, increasing his pace, and biting gently from ear to collarbone. “Gonna come for me, pretty girl?”

You were writhing against him, desperate for release. You were so close, but you needed more. “More. More. A third.” You couldn’t form full sentences, but you knew a third finger would make you fall apart.

He dutifully added his ring finger to his index and middle, slowing his pace but thrusting harder and deeper, thumb pressing firmly against your clit. “I should have known you needed three,” he told you in a low voice. “I saw you, and I said to myself, ‘that’s a woman with high standards.’ Wasn’t thinking about fingering you at the time, but the high standards translate.”

You laughed but quickly lost your breath. He was right. You were right; his fingers were pushing you right there. "Fuck, Brendon. I’m gonna come. I’m gonna come. Don’t stop, please, don’t stop. Get me ready for your thick cock, can feel you, want you, fuck me with your fingers; oh shit, Brendon, it’s so good.”

“Come for me; imagine you’re coming on my cock, baby.” It was as though your body had been waiting for his permission. Within a split second, you were falling apart, gasping and bucking against his hand. He doubled his speed, intent on dragging you over the edge now that he had successfully pushed you there. You had your head turned to one side, pressing your face into the pillow, muffling your cries of pleasure, but as they subsided and you were trembling with the aftershock of your orgasm, he gently pulled you back to awareness with delicate, gentle strokes. “Next time, I wanna hear you come. No muffling or stifling.”

His mouth was on yours, tongue dipping and caressing yours. You reflexively moved your hands as though to cradle his face but stopped short. You whimpered in frustration, tugging at your restraints. He froze against your lips, and you were quick to speak. “I’m okay, it doesn’t hurt. I promise. I just want to touch you.”

He smiled now. “And I promise you will have your hands back soon.” His own hands were moving up over your body, feather-light touches that were driving you wild. “How do you feel?”

You couldn’t stop the lazy smile that spread across your face; you were luxuriating in the afterglow. “I feel amazing.” With almost no hesitation, he brought three fingers back to your core, rubbing gently. Instantly, you were gasping, rolling your hips to meet his touch. “Fuck, I’m sensitive…if you don’t stop, I’m going to come again.”

Brendon looked down at you thoughtfully, three fingers moving at half speed now, fucking you hard and slow. “I don’t see that as a bad thing. Is that a bad thing?”

You shook your head, and he grinned, kissed you again, and curled his fingers slightly. Your head tipped back, and you let out staccato moans of pleasure unashamedly. His fingers moved steadily within you, thrusting and twisting and rubbing, and you were struggling to catch your breath. You’d had skilled sexual partners before, but no one like Brendon. He was right. He was going to make you come like no one else.

“I need you.” The words fell out of your mouth again and he caught his breath, resting his forehead against yours. He was so beautiful, so indulgent, and you could see in his eyes that he needed you too.

“I’m right here. You’ve got me, baby.” He began working over your neck, biting lightly and soothing the area instantly with the tip of his tongue. You were shaking, your legs spreading for him, hips arching and rolling, desperate for climax. “Fuck, you’re so perfect,” he whispered, and you cried out again. “You feel amazing.” His fingers, his tongue, his words, his erection pressing into your thigh—it was all too much.

It was almost embarrassing how soon you were going to come again, and you tried to control it—deep breaths, in and out. Focus on anything but him and the bliss he’s giving you. Your head rolled back, and you closed your eyes.

Brendon whispered your name, and your attention was back between your thighs. “I want to feel you come all over my fingers again. I want to feel your pussy squeeze my fingers tight and watch you ride my hand and hear you screaming my name. Come for me, baby. Think about my cock filling you. Soak my hand with your sweetness, let me lick you off my fingers. I need a taste.” You arched into his caress; you knew he was going to make you come hard. It was too much. It was too good. His voice, his fingers, his face; every part of him was urging you toward your climax.

“Brendon!” He had curled his fingers, his middle finger pressing insistently into you and stroking firmly. “Fuck, Brendon, right there.” You couldn’t control yourself, you couldn’t even breathe steadily; all you could do was feel as his fingers rubbed inside you.

You moved to hide your face but remembered his earlier request and found his eyes instead. “I’m coming, I’m coming; fuck, Brendon, you’re perfect, please don’t stop.” The words fell from your lips in a breathless chant, and you were writhing under his touch. He watched in immense satisfaction, stroking your hair with his free hand.

“You’re incredible.” He withdrew his fingers, soothing you after your soft moan of loss, and carefully ran his tongue up and over each individual finger. “And you taste so good. I knew you’d taste incredible. Fuck, baby, your pussy...”

His eyes closed in ecstasy as his tongue worked its way back over each. You moaned, craving his tongue on your body instead. He was running his fingers through your hair now, across your parted lips, down your chest, over your stomach and drawing circles on your hips. “You’re fucking phenomenal, and I don’t want to stop touching you, even for a second.”

You twisted slightly, letting your legs twine around him and pull him closer. You were still breathing hard, relishing the feeling of his hands on your thighs, when he moved toward the end of the bed. “But I want to eat this gorgeous pussy. I promised I’d eat this gorgeous pussy, and I keep my promises,” he murmured, clasping your ankles in both hands and pushing them toward your body.

You moaned when he feathered a kiss to the inside of your thigh. With one hand under the small of your back, he tilted your hips slightly upward. He shifted his head to the side, exactly three inches to the right of where you most wanted him and teased your hip with the tip of his tongue.

-||- the present -||-

“Do you think you can handle it?” He’s mumbling against your mouth, reluctant to break the kiss. You’re brought out of your reverie by his words and with the feeling of his thumbs rubbing across your breasts and his leg pressing insistently between your thighs. You bite his lip gently, and he lightly pinches a nipple in response, sending lightning straight through you.

I think I need it,” you murmur, spreading your knees apart but still grinding against his bare thigh. He smiles, releasing your lips, and tracing a slow, tortuous path with his tongue down between your breasts to your throbbing clit.

With both hands against your thighs, pressing them apart, he gazes up at you steadily. "Is this what you need?” He runs the tip of his tongue across your pussy, moving in soft circles before flicking against your clit, and you shudder, wishing you could grab his hair.

“Or this?” He’s much more forceful this time, his tongue finding exactly where you want it and moving steadily back and forth. You’re shrieking, trying to keep your hips still as he torments you with his mouth. It won’t be long; you’re too turned on from everything else he’s done to you. You can feel your climax building, the pressure intense.

His hands leave your hips, and he carefully presses two fingers against your pelvis and pushes up—you gasp instantly; the move gives him full access to your clit and he’s taking full advantage of it, his tongue going flat against you and sending shockwaves through your entire body.

Before you can catch your breath, Brendon slides two fingers back inside, thrusting and curling relentlessly as his tongue strums against your clit.

You throw your head back, raising your hips and chanting his name, desperate for release. “God, you’re beautiful.” He pulls away to watch you for a moment before returning to his previous work. Using a shoulder, he nudges your leg closer to your body and withdraws his fingers momentarily—before you can even react, he’s back inside you, both tongue and fingers doubling their force, and you’re practically screaming your orgasm, nearly weeping his name in ecstasy. You’re trembling, shaking from head to toe, and he moves up and over your body, kissing your stomach, chest, neck, forehead, and finally dipping back down to your lips.

You arch up into him, cradling him in between your legs, kissing him urgently. One of his hands cups the back of your head, and you can feel the other untying the tie that holds you in place. The silk goes slack, and you shoot your arms forward, one now around his shoulders, the other hand tangling in his hair.

“You’re amazing,” you murmur against his lips, twisting your legs around him to keep him pressed against you.

He smiles into the kiss, both hands running through your hair and down your back, holding you close to him before pulling back slightly. “You’re pretty incredible yourself. How do your arms feel?” Brendon looks at you with concern, running the tips of his fingers up your arms and across your shoulders.

You shrug, wanting to get back to the kissing, and you snuggle closer to him. He chuckles. “Not ready to let go yet?” You shake your head, burying your face in his neck. He kisses the top of your head, stroking your hair. “Let me just check your arms, baby.”

He shifts so he’s behind you, hands rubbing over your shoulders and upper arms carefully. “No pain?” You shake your head, going limp against his chest. “I just don’t want you to have pulled something…” he’s using his thumbs to apply pressure between your shoulders and neck, and you’re groaning in pleasure, arching your back and pressing against him. “I think you’re good.” He’s still rubbing your arms, and you cuddle back into his body, relishing the feeling of his hardness pressing insistently into your back.

“I think I am too.” You slide down his body, resting your head on his leg and closing your eyes. “Orgasms always make me sleepy,” you confess, snuggling against his leg and purposefully brushing the tip of your nose against his erection before snaking a hand up to palm him through his boxers. He inhales sharply as you stroke him, running his fingers through your hair and leaning back against the headboard.

“You better take a quick power nap, because as far as I can tell, you still know words other than my name, meaning I haven’t kept all of my promises.” His voice is playful but contains an undertone of desire, and a thrill of pleasure goes through you as you remember there’s more. He’s already brought you to orgasm—was it really three times? —and there’s still more he’s promised you. Your toes curl at the thought, and you gaze up at him, biting your lip. “You really are stunning,” Brendon murmurs, and you smile lazily.

“I’m usually not this kind of girl…sleeping with someone immediately,” you tell him, hand no longer stroking but wrapping around his dick instead. He tucks a finger under your chin and tilts your head up to meet his eyes.

“Hey. One, I’m definitely not judging you. I am definitely planning on fucking you,” he gives you a small grin, “but I’m not judging you. Two, I don’t think there’s anything wrong with being the 'kind of girl’ who sees something she wants and gets it. Who cares how we met or when we met? It’s no one’s damn business. What’s important is that we met. I wanted you. You wanted me. I brought you home, and now here we are.” Brendon leans down and kisses you deeply, and you twist yourself up into his arms and back into his lap, responding eagerly.

He pulls you closer and you tentatively rub yourself against him again. He leans back slightly and meets your eyes. “So, we’re good? You’re not mentally beating yourself for being 'that kind of girl’ which we have determined is crap?”

You laugh, nodding. “Yeah, we’re good. Will you please kiss me again?” He complies with a smile, cupping your face in his hands and kissing you gently. “Thank you,” you mumble against his lips, grasping his hair and twisting it between your fingers. As the kiss continues, you tug at his hair, eliciting a sharp groan. He bites your lip, and you roll your hips against his, relishing the feeling.

“Someone’s awake again,” he comments, tucking a lock of hair behind your ear. You nod, grinning. “Someone better get ready.” You wriggle excitedly, promising him you’re ready.

With that, he lowers you back onto the bed, kissing you more firmly and coaxing your lips apart with his tongue. Moaning into the kiss, you wrap your legs around his waist and reach between you to get his underwear off. You need to feel his cock.

“Love that you might be more eager than me,” Brendon mumbles, kicking the discarded boxer briefs off the bed. You gasp when his erection springs free, and you press closer to him. He grins, grasping your hips and pulling you against him firmly while kissing your neck. “You feel what you do to me? You make me so hard, and you’re so wet. I can’t wait to feel you take me. But first,” he pauses, leaning over you and groping blindly in the nightstand. You prop yourself up on one arm, watching in interest as he tears open a condom wrapper with his teeth and rolls it down into place. “Safety first.”

He’s hovering over you once more and he kisses you firmly, two fingers working between your legs, twisting and spreading slowly, before taking his cock in one hand teasingly running it over the length of your pussy. You whimper, trying to wriggle down, needing him to fill you, to fuck you. He makes a soft, soothing sound, pressing the head of his cock against you, watching you whine and writhe against him. Finally, he relents, grasping your hip and entering you in one swift movement. You cry out, nails scratching at his back, instantly grateful for the work he had done to prepare you earlier. You bite down on his neck as he fills you, and you whisper, “you feel so fucking good.”

Brendon flips his hair out of his eyes and looks at you intently. “You feel amazing,” he replies, grabbing one of your legs and pulling it higher on his waist. Immediately he’s deeper, thrusting hard, and you're working to keep your composure. He drops down onto a forearm, still thrusting into you. “Tell me what you want, baby. Tell me how you like to be fucked.” His tongue traces a path from your ear down your neck and ended in the hollow of your collarbone while his free hand moves over your breasts, torturing you by barely brushing his thumb gently back and forth over a nipple.

You shudder with pleasure, arching your back and lifting your hips to offer him more of you. “You, fuck, I want you, fucking me like this, fucking me any way you want me, like you can’t get enough of me.” He grins, hitching your other leg higher as well and bites your shoulder when you shriek in pleasure from the angle change. “Fuck, yes. I want you to fill me up with your cock, give it to me, Brendon—I’m gonna come, oh fuck, fuck, fuck you’re right there, don’t stop!”

You’re trying to catch your breath, but his pace has nearly doubled and you’re digging your nails into the sheets with one hand in his hair; the sensations are proving to be too much for you. Every inch of your body is vibrating and taut with need. All he needs to do is tell you to come for him, and you know you’ll explode.

“Would you hate me,” Brendon murmurs, pulling out of you suddenly and stroking himself idly, “if I made you wait for it?”

You’re quivering at the loss, legs spread and hips twitching, and you stare up at him. “Keep talking.”

“I want you to come, baby. Trust me on that. I want to feel your gorgeous cunt tighten around my cock, want to feel that sweet, slick heat, want to watch your head roll back and your eyes flutter shut when I make you come.” Your breath hitches in your throat at his words, and you can’t help it when you start to tease your clit with two fingers. His eyes follow your fingers, and you can see his cock throb in his hand.

“Goddamn, that’s so fucking sexy,” Brendon whispers, stroking himself even slower, obviously teasing himself too. “Fuck, touch yourself for me, honey.” Moaning, you let your eyes fall shut as your hips move in time with your fingers. “Eyes open. Let me see those gorgeous eyes.” You meet his eyes, whimpering. “Keep going. Tell me how it feels, please.”

“Fuck it feels good; Brendon, I love it. I love you watching me, I love watching you stroke your cock while I finger myself; fuck, I want to ride your cock.” Your voice is high and tight, and your breathing is shallow. “Please, fuck, Brendon, please let me.” He groans appreciatively, and you give him a pleading look, using your fingers to spread yourself for him. “Let me ride your cock.”

He sinks down beside you, rolling onto his back, and you straddle him eagerly. With warm hands on your hips, he guides you down. “Fuck,” you mumble, rocking back and forth slightly, adjusting again. “Fuck, you’re thick.” You can feel him twitch inside you, and he’s under you, biting his lip. “God, you feel so fucking good. Is this okay?”

You’re leaning over slightly, hands on his chest, and he nods, breathing hard. “You’re so sexy,” he tells you, squeezing your thighs. “I really didn’t expect you to do any work,” and he gestures at the way you’re rolling your hips, riding him slowly.

“This is hardly work,” you say, laughing a little and moving faster. “This is me, riding the perfect cock of a man I’m so fucking into. This is me—oh god, that’s good—showing him how into him I am.”

He’s thrusting up into you slightly, whispering breathless praise, and holding onto you tightly; you shift, really grinding down on him now. One hand leaves your thigh, and he tangles a hand in your hair.

He brings your mouth down for a hard kiss. You gasp; the kiss is rough and demanding and possessive, and you want it to last forever. He pulls back after a long moment, his eyes dark with lust, and he reaches up to rub at your clit. “Don’t think I’m not enjoying watching you ride me,” he starts, swearing under his breath when you sink down onto him again. “Because it’s fucking phenomenal, feeling you, watching you like this. But I think you’ve been teased long enough; I think you need to come.”

“God, I really do,” you agree, whining when he lifts you off of him.

“Hang on, baby; I’m gonna get you there,” Brendon promises, petting your hair and bringing you down to lay next to him. “Want to try this.” He twists so he’s spooning you, and he takes you in his arms. One hand gropes at your breasts and tugs at your nipples, while the other lingers between your legs, lifting your top leg so he can slide in deep, before stroking your clit. “How does this feel?”

You can’t find the words; you can only cling to his arms around you and let out small sounds of bliss. You roll a little so you’re more on your stomach than side, and he’s curved over you, still thrusting hard. Rolled slightly like this, he’s got more leverage to use for filling you, and you know you’re going to lose control shortly. What you want to say is that it feels incredible. This angle is far tighter, and you can feel everything at a higher intensity—you can only imagine what it feels like for him. His lips brush your shoulder, and when you sigh happily, he bites down gently as he begins to rut against you.

You’re in sensory overload. The feel of his fingers on your skin, the sharp sensation of his teeth, and the overwhelming pressure and sound as his hips crash into you from behind—you can feel your legs trembling and know your climax is close. “Fuck, Brendon…I’m right there.”

The hand on your chest moves to your hair, and he tilts your head back slightly, so he can whisper in your ear. “I wanna hear you come, baby. Come for me, come on my cock, tell me who makes you come like this.” Abandoning your clit only briefly, he grabs your hip, lifts you a little, and thrusts in hard and deep. It’s exactly what you need; you feel a rush of pleasure spread from your core through your whole body, and you’re shaking, squealing, swearing that he’s the only one who’s ever made you come this hard as he fucks you through it. 

It’s while you’re rocking back against him for more that you beg him to come; he moves his hand down to find your clit and strokes gently, teeth nipping at your earlobe. “Don’t worry, I’m gonna. Don’t think for a second I’m not gonna come, feeling you take my cock so good, feeling you buck against my fingers, begging for more. Fuck,” he breathes, burying his face in your neck, feeling you squeeze around his length in response to his deeper strokes. “I’m gonna come; you’re gonna make me come.”

Your whole body tightens again as a second wave rolls through you, and he groans your name, biting down on your shoulder. Between his arms around you tight and his teeth marking you, he’s holding you firmly in place as he comes, and you love it.  You can feel his cock throb inside you as he thrusts erratically, riding his orgasm out; his body tenses and then relaxes above you.

“Oh god,” Brendon groans, breathing hard and rolling to one side. He reaches for you, bringing you closer, and tucks you into his chest so he can press a soft kiss to the top of your head.

  “Fuck,” you agree, going limp against him. “That was incredible.”

He sighs contentedly. “It was. Holy fuck.” He lifts your face to his, kissing you softly. “I’ll be honest; I planned to fuck you in a guest room.”

You falter, leaning back to give him a confused, hurt look. “You didn’t want to—in your bed? Am I not— This is a weird way to ask me to leave, but okay.” You laugh a little self-consciously, trying to disguise how wounded you feel, and his eyes go wide.

“Fuck, no. That’s not what I’m saying at all. I meant that we’d fuck there, so that I could take you to my bed for actual sleep. I planned on fucking you so good we’d need to change the sheets,” he grins when you relax and nod, giggling a little. “So, I planned on fucking you in a guest room, soaking those sheets, and then I’d carry you to my bed to pass out. I fully intended, and still intend, for you to spend the night in my bed. I’m definitely not kicking you out.”

“You keep saying you planned on fucking me in a guest room.” You look around the room for the first time and then back at him. “This doesn’t look like a guest room.”

“It’s not,” Brendon admits, grinning. “When it came down to it, when I had you in my arms headed up the stairs, I decided I wanted to see you lose control in my bed. Wanted to watch you take my cock, come hard for me, squeal my name in my bed. Not some random guest bed. I wanted you, and I wanted you here.” 

“…I did ruin these sheets though,” you point out with a soft laugh, guiding one of his hands over to feel. “So, are we going to go sleep in a guest room?”

“Hell no,” Brendon mumbles, nuzzling you sleepily. “I’m going to scoop you up and place you in that lounge chair,” he flings a hand haphazardly toward a plush chair in the corner, “and find the energy to change these sheets. Then I’m taking you back to bed and falling asleep with you in my bed, the same bed where I drove you fucking wild, just the way I planned.”

He makes good on his promise, dragging himself from the bed and carrying you over to the chair. He places you in it gently, lifting your face to his for a soft kiss. “I’ll be quick, baby.”

You watch in interest as he works, stripping the bed down and remaking it carefully. You’d assumed he’d rush, just put a new fitted sheet on the bed and fling the blankets across, but he’s tucking and folding down the top sheet now, carefully draping the blankets over the length of the bed, layering them the way they were initially. When you comment on all the effort, he smiles at you sweetly. “Well of course I’m going to put in effort. I plan to take my girl to bed, but it has to be a bed worthy of her.”

Your breath falters. “Your girl?”

Brendon nods, crossing back to the chair and standing naked in front of you without a hint of self-consciousness. “I’m going to see you again.” It isn’t a question, not really, and it sends shivers of pleasure through you. “And I want you to be mine.”

“Brendon…” He looks down at you, and he must see in your face everything you can’t put into words, because he leans down, brushes your hair back from your face, and gives you a deep kiss.

You smile into the embrace, arching your body into his, making a soft sound of satisfaction as he slips his tongue into your mouth and lifts you up into his arms. He sighs your name, then— “You are mine, aren’t you?” He whispers the words against your lips, and you nod, kissing him again. Reverently, he brings you back to his bed, placing you down and covering you up before sliding in beside you.

You turn in his arms to face him, twist your fingers through his hair, and kiss the corner of his mouth before pulling back to meet his eyes. “Brendon?”

“Yes, baby?”

“You are still my favorite artist.”

He beams down at you, kissing your forehead. “I’d better be, after tonight,” he teases sleepily, and you laugh, tugging the blankets higher and snuggling into him.

He beams down at you, kissing your forehead. “I’d better be, after tonight,” he teases sleepily, and you laugh, tugging the blankets higher and snuggling into him.

[loverontheleft]

The Honeymoon One

Or actually - this’ll be several “ones.” I’m at 10k words currently and not nearly done, so I’m going to post it a thousand words at a time, probably 1k words a day. I might even queue it up!

AU. Brendon x reader.

Warnings: So...we’ve (@beautiful-tragic-fallout) created a points system for smut. Also! The new decade brought us new scale items. Enjoy. 😘

0.25 for handjob

0.25 for fingering

0.25 for masturbation

0.25-0.5 for (mild) cum-play

0.5 for blowing him

0.5 for going down on her

0.6 for cockwarming

0.75-1.0 for sex, vanilla

1.5-2.0 for sex, advanced positions

3.0 for bondage, spanking, other kinks, or public sex.

This piece has a smut score of WOW ACTUALLY ZERO, and other warnings include language.

Word count: 1k

-||-

“You know that feeling when you’re walking down the stairs and you miss a step? And your foot sort of free-falls through the air and you know it’s gonna land somewhere, but you don’t know where? And there’s that sick feeling of dread and fear and complete panic because you could literally plunge down the entire flight and not be able to stop it?” Brendon looks at you over the edge of his wine glass. His eyes are bright and laser-focused on you. It’s the first he’s spoken all night, and this is the first weekly dinner he hasn’t canceled or just flaked on in three months. You honestly weren’t expecting him to show tonight, so you’re even more surprised when he breaks the silence.

“Yes,” is all you say. You leave the moment hanging between you, encouraging him to keep talking. He sighs and settles back in the formal dining room table chair. You lean forward and look at him expectantly. He meets your gaze for a moment but his eyes start darting between yours and the tablecloth.

Finally, he takes a deep breath and drains his glass in one swallow. “That’s what it felt like when she told me it was over.” It’s a heavy moment. Your face falls and you reach for his hand. He allows you to touch him for one moment before he shrinks away and sighs. “I’m trying to be better, Y/n. I really am.”

“Bren,” you whisper. “You don’t have to - no one is rushing you to be back to your old self. Really. Healing - you can take as long as you need. You were together for a long time. You were enga-“ you cut yourself off before you can get the whole word out.

“But it’s been three months,” he groans, dropping his head into his hands. “I should be better.” The last part is muffled as he presses his face firmly against his palms. “And the trip is coming up.” You wince. You’d forgotten. No, you say silently. You hadn’t really forgotten of course; you knew it was coming up. You just hadn't realized how soon it was. “I leave in two weeks.”

“Wait - you’re still going?!” You don’t mean to sound so shrill, but you can’t help it.

“So much of it was non-refundable. It’d be a waste of money to not go.” He’s silently pleading with you to understand.

“Yeah, but-“ you’re aghast. Waste of money or not, surely he sees how harmful this could be to any amount of progress he’s made in the time since she left him for her research partner.

He stares at you desperately. He’s tapping his fingers against the wood of the table and not blinking. He’s chewing his lower lip and his eyes dart back and forth frantically. His chest is heaving with shallow breaths. You’re not sure what’s going through his mind when he blurts out suddenly - “come with me.”

You blink once. Twice. “Sorry, what?”

“Come with me,” Brendon repeats. “I have two tickets. And there’s a second person for all of the stuff I booked.”

You’re avoiding eye contact and you pinch the bridge of your nose, trying to process this. “Bren, it’s probably all sexy, romantic stuff,” you finally protest, your mind and heart racing at the possibilities. “You don’t want me-“

“I can’t do it alone,” Brendon says softly. “I can’t bear it alone. You’re my best friend, Y/n. I can’t do it alone. Please.” He allows his words to hang in the air for a long moment. “Please,” he says again. His eyes are wide and innocent and you can feel yourself caving. “Y/n, please. You need a vacation. You work too damn hard and are underfuckingappreciated. You need a break. Let me give you a break.” He’s talking faster now. “It’s all already paid for; it won’t cost you anything. You’d be doing me a favor, really. Please. Take a vacation with me.” The air between you is sizzling with his intensity and you knock back the rest of your wine.

“I don’t even know that I can get the time off,” you warn him and he crows in triumph.

“You have easily eighty vacation days accumulated since you started there.” Brendon grins at you knowingly. “You’ve never taken a sick day. You don’t take vacation. That day trip to the beach does not count,” he cuts you off swiftly, seeing you about to protest. “Because you got a client’s deposition instead of getting lunch with me.”

“In my defense,” you say, “you did pick Hard Rock Cafe for lunch. I was smart to skip it.”

He grins. “You admit that you skipped lunch then?” When you nod, he turns to an imaginary judge sitting beside him. “Your honor, I move to acquit Ms. Y/l/n from work in two weeks for two weeks. Clearly she has met the qualifications for insanity and needs rehabilitation time in the form of alcoholic drinks and delicious food and total relaxation with her best friend in his time of need.” He nods solemnly and then turns to you. “How do you plead?” His eyes are wide and needy and you melt a little. He’s your best friend. He’s your best friend and he needs you. He’s your best friend and he wants- no - needs you and you do need a vacation.

“Guilty by reason of insanity,” you say with a laugh, giving in to his playacting and ruffling his hair affectionately. He arches into your touch, pressing his head into your fingers for more, and you silently will yourself to stay in control of your own feelings. “Commit me to rehab, your honor.”

“The court reporter records the sentence and it shall be done,” Brendon announces as he pulls back from your hair-tousling, raising his empty wine glass in a toast.

“Just-“ you have one last point to raise and his eyebrows go up. “You know I am not a good flyer.” You give him your biggest, most pathetic gaze and he smiles reassuringly before telling you that you can hold his hand the whole time if you’ll feel better. You tap your glass against his, praying that he doesn’t see what’s flickering on the screen of your mind.

[loverontheleft]

Ready to Leap (Chapter 48)

AU with B as a band teacher and reader as an English teacher. Fluff and smut. Chapters 1-47 can be found on my Masterlist in my bio. 

Brendon x reader. 

Warnings: So...we’ve (@beautiful-tragic-fallout) created a points system for smut. Also! The new decade brought us new scale items. Enjoy. 😘

0.25 for handjob

0.25 for fingering

0.25 for masturbation

0.25-0.5 for (mild) cum-play

0.5 for blowing him

0.5 for going down on her

0.6 for cockwarming

0.75-1.0 for sex, vanilla

1.5-2.0 for sex, advanced positions

3.0 for bondage, spanking, other kinks, or public sex. 

This chapter has a smut score of 1.6, and other warnings include language, emotional conversations, and maybe some dirty talk? 

This isn’t as long as I wanted it to be, but I am looking at my calendar and I don’t know when I’m going to have significant writing time/posting time. I’ve made my peace with taking the rest of what I had planned for this chapter and making it Chapter 49, which you’ll hopefully get soon. 

Additionally, I’ve been in talks with people ( @panicsinning) about a MoSex 3, and I still have a sequel to Happiest to write. I haven’t forgotten. I promise. 

Word count: 5.9k

-||-

“Love,” Brendon croaks, tightening his arm around your waist and pulling you against him. “Don’t wanna get up.” You shake your head and snuggle even closer, pressing your face to his chest. The sunlight is pouring in through the guest house windows and you blink sleepily as you process your surroundings. 

“Are we on the floor?” You lift your head slightly to confirm this as Brendon laughs and sits up too. He runs a hand through his messy hair; you lean over and kiss him softly. “Why are we on the floor?”

“Well,” Brendon starts, stretching a bit and rolling his shoulders. “We went upstairs, and then we got hungry. I know we came back downstairs to eat the dinner you made and we opened a bottle of wine.” His eyes move to the recycling bin next to the trash can. There are three empty wine bottles. “Okay, so we had three bottles.” 

“I’m guessing,” you pick up the story, grinning at him. “I’m guessing we had some wine, ended up making out on the couch,” you gesture at the couch with its rumpled blankets beside you with these words, “and rolled off at some point and didn’t notice.” 

“Or,” Brendon counters with a small smile, “we went ahead and got on the floor because we knew we were going to end up having sex again and balancing on that narrow couch seemed unappealing.” His fingers trace up your inner thighs and you sigh in pleasure when he brushes over your entrance. “I’m pretty sure,” Brendon murmurs, leaning in close, “we had sex again. Because someone is still very, very, very wet.”

You make a small whimpering noise as you stretch your arms above your head before rolling over so your back is to his chest. “And someone’s cock is nice and slick,” you observe, rolling your hips back to feel him. Brendon chuckles and kisses your neck. 

“That’s because someone probably came all over it more than a few times.” 

His warm breath on your skin makes you shiver and you moan again, rocking against him. “Does someone want more?” You nod sleepily and lift your leg slightly so that he can adjust his body to push into you. “There’s my good girl,” Brendon murmurs, stroking your stomach with two fingers. “On my cock where she belongs.” He kisses your neck again and you sigh happily before trying to smother a yawn. Brendon laughs and rocks forward. “Fall back asleep, my love. I’m perfectly content to just keep my cock warm inside you.” 

“You’re the best,” you mumble, closing your eyes and wiggling back into his embrace. “Wake me up when we’ve gotta head back to the main house.” He nods and brushes his lips over your neck tenderly. 

“And not a minute before,” Brendon promises. “My sweet girl needs her rest.” There’s a lull before he speaks again. “Y/n, honey - you know it’s okay to not be okay. I don’t - I don’t expect you to be like this all the time now. Progress isn’t exactly linear. If you - if there’s a point when you need this, intimacy and sex I mean, great. And if there’s a point where you can’t handle it...I understand. Just…” Brendon’s fingers trace over your stomach again. “Just keep me in the loop. Communicate with me, okay?”

The tears have started again despite you trying to fight them back and they pool under your cheek. With a shuddering breath, you nod. “I’ll try. And-“ you swallow hard - “the same for you. It’s okay if you need to not- I get it. I want to do this -healing- together.”

“Together,” he murmurs, smoothing a hand over your hair. “You and me.” You go limp against him and he sighs, tugging the blanket off the back of the couch to cover you both. “You know,” he says after a moment of you both shifting and trying to get comfortable again, “we could go get in the bed. Here or at the main house.” 

You hesitate. You definitely want to be in bed, but you’re in his arms and the blanket feels nice and you don’t feel like moving. “A bed could be nice,” you muse. Brendon smiles and nuzzles your neck. “Let’s just go upstairs,” you decide. “I’m not ready to go back yet. I just want more time with you, here, alone. I know Zack and Kala would give us privacy but...”

“Upstairs it is. I want more alone time too,” Brendon declares, pulling out of you gently so he can stand and scoop you up into his arms, bridal-style. “Come along, my pretty girl. Let’s get you into a bed so I can get back into you.” He winks and you laugh, blushing and burying your face in his chest. 

This feels good, you think to yourself. Flirting and playing with him. You almost feel like your old self, and he almost sounds like his old self. It feels strange to separate your emotions like this, but it’s what you’re doing - there’s the you who is grieving and will always, in some way or another, be grieving and then there’s the you who can’t stay in that moment and has to move forward. 

He’s moving you both forward physically and mentally; instead of being angry or resentful towards him for it, you’re grateful to him for taking the lead and taking care of you. He pauses at the top of the stairs and looks down at you with a hint of worry in his eyes. “You okay, darlin?”

“Yes,” you tell him simply, smiling. “Yes, right now I’m okay. And I’m okay with that.” He smiles now too and nods, nudging open the bedroom door and crossing the room to place you gently in the bed. You reach for him and he doesn’t make you wait; he crawls into bed beside you and tugs the blanket up over both of you. 

“I’m here, love,” he whispers. “I’m right here. I’ve got you. I’m not going anywhere.” 

-||-

“Bren?” Your whisper is soft but it wakes him. He stirs and rolls toward you, stroking your face lovingly. 

“Yes, love?” He yawns and kisses your forehead and you snuggle into his arms. “What does my best girl need?”

“Nothing, I just - it’s getting dark out and -“ you pause, feeling his chest rise and fall against yours. “I wasn’t sure if we should head back or not.” 

Brendon sighs and runs a hand over your hair. “We should,” he says reluctantly. “We could order dinner, meet them at the front gate, and then head to the main house and eat with Zack and Kala and then...bed?”

You mull this over and nod. “That’ll work. Can we take a bath?” You look up at him with big, hopeful eyes and he smiles, holding you firmly against him so he can kiss the top of your head. 

“Absolutely, my love. We can absolutely take a bath.” And with that, you both stand up and dress slowly. You order dinner to be delivered while Brendon tidies the living room up. When you’re both done, he leads the way down the steps and out into the open fields between the guest house and the main house. Hand in hand, you cross together and you find yourself pressing close to his side. He drops your hand but drapes an arm over your shoulders and holds you close. 

“Thank you,” you murmur to him as you approach the kitchen door. He squeezes your shoulder lightly and kisses your forehead. “Do you want me to go with you to get dinner?”

“No,” Brendon says with a quick shake of his head. “You relax. I’ll be back before you know it.” You accept this and head inside, mentally bracing yourself for the onslaught of questions that Zack and Kala will no doubt lob your way. 

As expected, the moment you step inside, Kala springs up from the kitchen island. “So, how’d it go?” She’s eager, eyes wide, practically bouncing up and down with excitement. Zack comes up behind her and presses both hands lightly to her shoulders to hold her in place. 

“My wife wants to know if you got some,” he drawls, and you wrinkle your nose playfully, telling them both that you’re going to plead the fifth. “That,” Zack declares, “is your answer. More like plead the filth, I bet.” Kala makes a little triumphant noise and you laugh, giving her a look. 

“Did you really doubt your abilities in setting the mood?” You’re teasing her for all of her candles and she grins, shaking her head. “But I really am going to plead the fifth, if only because some things are meant for just me and Bren,” you tell them with a soft smile. 

“Oooooh, Bren,” Zack simpers and you roll your eyes at him. “Sorry, I’ll shut up,” he says quickly when Kala elbows him. “That’s sweet of you. Kala tells everyone she can about our wild, hot sex,” he teases. She elbows him again and he groans, stepping back. “I’ll behave,” is all he says. She grins at you and you smile back, trying not to let your mind wander to the first fight you and Brendon had just after you got married - you telling your coworkers about your sex life with him. 

You try to rationalize that the fight wasn’t even entirely about that, but it’s not working. You can feel the tears pricking your eyes so you excuse yourself quickly and head up the stairs. Pushing open the bedroom door, you throw yourself across the bed and bury your face in a pillow and let the body-wracking sobs come. You’re cursing at yourself internally; you don’t know why you’re reacting like this. It was such a good night and now you’re bawling your eyes out. You’re angry at yourself, angry for ruining the night. 

It doesn’t feel like long before you hear the bedroom door creak open and you feel the mattress give as he settles beside you. “Y/n,” Brendon murmurs, stroking your back. “Come here, love.” He shifts and you let him pull you into his arms. “Do you want to talk or do you want me to just hold you?”

“Just hold me, I think,” you manage with a sniff before snuggling into his chest and raising your legs so you’re curled against him. “It’s not - it wasn’t about - I’m okay,” you insist after a long moment. He runs his fingers through your hair, waiting. You sigh and meet his eyes. He’s watching you with a soft expression. You exhale slowly. “I- Zack was teasing me and-“ you cut yourself off as his expression darkens and his body tenses under you. “No, no it’s - it’s fine. I - he wasn’t teasing me exactly, he was teasing Kala for telling everyone about their sex life and I just remembered how you- and I- and we-“ the hiccuping sobs start again and Brendon shudders - obviously remembering - and drops down to the bed to cover your body with his. 

“Y/n,” he whispers, his voice breaking. “Y/n, sweetheart, I’m so sorry. I never - that whole situation was so wrong of me- and entirely my fault - I’m so sorry.” You nod and shift under him so you’re clinging to him; he buries his face in your neck as his own hot tears roll. “I’m so sorry for how I treated you,” he repeats, voice breaking. 

“It’s okay,” you assure him, clutching his shoulders. “It’s okay. We’re okay. It’s in the past- we moved on, we agreed. It’s okay. I just - hearing it from Zack- it reminded me - and I promise I’m okay,” you say softly, threading your fingers through his hair. “You don’t need to apologize. It’s okay. We’re okay.” 

Brendon lifts his head and the sight of his tear-stained face makes your stomach twist. “We should take a bath,” he says, propping himself up on an elbow and cupping your face in one hand. “Relax.” His eyes search your face and you nod, eager to put this crying jag behind you both. “Are you hungry?”

“Not really,” you say, shaking your head. He gives you a look and you attempt to smile reassuringly. “I promise I’ll eat later. Right now I just want you and a bath.” Brendon nods and stands up, helping you to your feet. When you’re both standing, he pulls you into a tight embrace. 

“I love you,” he says softly. “I love you so much. I don’t ever want to hurt you and I don’t ever want you to hurt again.” He steps back to look into your eyes. “I’m yours,” he murmurs, kissing you gently. You lock your hands behind his neck and return the kiss. 

When you part, you brush your fingers over his swollen lips. “I love you too, Bren. And I don’t want you to hurt either. We’re going to be okay,” you whisper, sounding more confident than you feel. He must sense this because he kisses you again and you smile reassuringly against his lips. “And I’m yours.” 

“I want to take care of you,” Brendon tells you. “I want to protect you and make it all okay.” And with that, he wraps an arm around your waist and leads you into the bathroom. He leans over to turn on the water faucet and, as the hot water pours into the tub, he slowly and gently removes your clothing. You’re more frantic in your removal of his clothes; he chuckles and strokes your hair fondly. “Don’t need to rush, sweetheart. I’m not going anywhere.”

When you’re both naked, he helps you step into the tub and sink down into the hot water. He settles behind you and you relax, leaning back against his chest. You’re letting your shoulders drop and his arms wrap around your waist, his chin resting on your shoulder, when you feel him tense under you. 

“B? You okay?” You wiggle against him and he groans, nipping at your shoulder gently. “Oh,” you whisper when you feel his erection. A sinking feeling settles in your stomach. You’ve stopped crying, but you’re not sure if you’re up to sex right now. “Bren, honey, I don’t know if-“

“Don’t worry,” he soothes you. “I don’t need anything. I’m just - my body likes you. That’s all. And I just want you to feel good. I just want you to feel okay.” His fingers trace over your stomach and he nuzzles your neck. “Can I touch you?” You sigh again and roll your head back. “I don’t have to - if you don’t want-“ Brendon sounds anxious now and you shake your head. 

“No, I didn’t mean - that would be nice.” You’re spreading your legs for him and his fingers trail lower before hesitating. He asks you if you’re sure and you nod, then shake your head. “I’m sorry.” 

“Y/n, you don’t need to apologize,” Brendon reassures you, and you fight back the tears. “Sweetheart, I promise.” 

“I just -“ you stammer, clutching at his wrists, “I just don’t know what we’re doing.” You feel his head tilt in confusion and you continue. “It’s been - not even a month and we’re barely keeping it together. We’re doing better, I suppose, but is this a momentary upswing and we’re just going to crash later and be even more of a mess?” 

He holds you close and you try to relax again, willing the warm water and his heartbeat to soothe you. “I don’t know,” Brendon says honestly. “I don’t know. All we can do is go one day at a time and rely on each other. But long-term, I don’t know.”

You sniffle and close your eyes. “Do you remember when we got back to school the first time - after our wedding - and the kids threw us that party and thought we were pregnant?” Brendon nods and you keep going. “And you were so excited but we knew it wasn’t real so we agreed that we wanted to be husband and wife for a while before we had a baby? We wanted to really enjoy each other and the life we were going to build together before we started a family.” There’s a moment of silence between you both and you take a shaky breath. “I don’t mean that I - I don’t regret anything. I don’t regret her.”

“I know, honey-“ Brendon assures you and you squeeze his hand to cut him off. 

“So maybe we just - do that. Try to enjoy each other and build a life and -“ you break off, crying harder now. “I sound horrible. I sound like a terrible, awful mother and a monstrous person.” 

“You don’t,” Brendon says softly. “You don’t, honey. You sound like you’re trying to make the best of a terrible situation. No one has any idea what we’re going through, not really. I’m certainly not going to judge you. We’re not going to forget her; we’ll never forget her. But we can’t just stay frozen. We have to keep moving. One day at a time, but our eyes on the bigger picture.”

“What’s the bigger picture?” 

“Us,” he says simply, stroking your chest lightly. “You and me. Our loss doesn’t have to define our love. We can keep going, we can be okay.” You hesitate and he nudges you slightly, clearly nervous. “If you want.”

“I do want.” You twist in his arms to face him. You’re shivering, kneeling over him in the deep tub, the warm water just barely skimming the top of your breasts. “I do want. I want to be okay. I want you and I want to be okay.” You can feel the tears pricking at your eyes and your voice is trembling but you’re earnest. “I don’t want to lose you. I just don’t know how we can keep going and pretend -“

“We’re not going to pretend,” Brendon says in a rush, cupping your face in both hands. “Honey, we’re not going to pretend. We’ll never pretend. It’ll be hard and it’ll be weird and strange, but it’ll be worth it because I’ll have you and you’ll have me and it’ll be us. We said at the beginning - we love each other more. This is it, Y/n. This is the test.” You recoil from him and he blanches, reaching for you again. “I don’t mean that losing her - Olivia - was meant to - but you can’t deny that life gives us tests and this is one.” Her name hangs between you both. 

“I know,” you admit after a long moment, letting the tears roll down your face. “I know you’re right. I just don’t know what to do.”

Brendon runs a hand from your cheek back to your hair and kisses you firmly. “Let me worry about that. Let me take care of everything.” He looks at you intently and you nod. “I want to date you.” You can’t help it; the laugh comes bubbling up and he grins at the sound. “I know, it sounds ridiculous. You’re my wife, but I want to date you.” He kisses you again. “I want to date you and I want to seduce you and I want to build a life with you. Think about it - we had barely been married long at all before we found out you were pregnant and then we had all of that stress with the IUD and - we never got to just be...young and married and wrapped up in each other. We moved so quickly - and I don’t regret it but - we went from dating to newlyweds to expectant parents. Y/n Urie, I want to date you.” 

You find yourself smiling and Brendon smiles too, wrapping his arms around you. “Can I date you? Can I attempt to seduce you?”

You nod, giggling and kissing him. “Yes. Yes. You can date me; you can seduce me.” You run your fingers through his hair and press yourself against him. He groans when you settle down in his lap; his fingers clutch at your thighs and he rocks up underneath you. The tip of his cock presses firmly against your entrance but he doesn’t press forward and when you wriggle down to take him inside you, he squeezes your thighs to stop you.

“I want to do this right,” he says, breathing hard. “I want to seduce you and date you and make us both wait for sex. I want to build to it. I want to be the only thing you’re thinking about. I want to drive you wild.” His eyes bore into yours and you nod, biting your lip. “I’m going to make it so good for you, Y/n,” Brendon promises. “I’m going to make it so good. Just think - we’re already married. You’re stuck with me; the end-goal has been met. You’re my wife. I’m your husband. No pressure. Now we just get to play and enjoy each other. Now I get to remind you why you said yes.” His arms snake around your waist and he leans forward to pull the plug from the drain. “And I’m starting right now.” 

“Bren-“ you yelp when he stands up, holding you close. “Don’t drop me-“

“You know I’ll never let you fall,” he tells you, his grip tightening. “Here, love.” Carefully, he sets you on your feet and reaches for one of the robes that have been on the towel heater. Wrapping you in it, he kisses your forehead and smiles down at you. “Are you hungry?” You nod now, and Brendon smiles. “Good. Let’s get you in bed and I’ll bring food up.”

“I can eat downstairs-“ you start to protest and he presses his lips to yours sweetly. 

“You can, but I’m seducing you, my love. And part of that involves bringing you dinner in bed.” You raise an eyebrow and he reads your mind. “Kala will protest, but I’ll put my foot down.” He winks at you. “Her suggestions make sense but I’m taking care of you. And your sweet ass,” he grins at you when you laugh, “is staying right there in that bed.” 

-||-

“Hey!” You squeal, putting your hands up in front of your face as Brendon smears a bit of queso across your lips. “Clean me up,” you demand, grinning at him. 

“Gladly, Mrs. Urie,” Brendon purrs, setting the plate of tostadas aside and rolling on top of you, kissing you firmly. You moan under him and scratch at his back, relishing the way his mouth moves over yours. When you part, both of you breathless, Brendon smiles at you. “I love you, Y/n.”

“I love you too,” you say, pushing a hand through his hair so it’s out of his eyes. “I love you so much.” There’s a long silence as you gaze at each other. 

“I think,” Brendon murmurs, nuzzling your cheek as he rolls off of you and helps you sit up, “that my seduction is working.” You laugh and reach for the plate of abandoned Mexican food. 

“Well,” you laugh again, taking a large bite. “The delicious food you’ve brought me to our bed is certainly helping.” You offer him a forkful and he leans in to pluck it from the prongs with his teeth. He winks at you and licks his lips before kissing you again. 

“I want to take you home,” Brendon says softly. You hesitate and he takes your hand. “We can’t hide out here forever. I want to take you home. We chose that house together and I want-“

“We chose that house together when we were going to have a baby-“

“We chose that house together to build a family,” Brendon cuts you off. “Nothing has gone according to plan but the goal is still the same - it can still be the same if you want it to be. Build a family. You and me.” He slips off the bed and kneels beside you, pressing his lips to your hand. “Y/n, sweetheart. It’s you and me.” 

“Bren-“ you whimper, reaching for his hand and tugging. He stands and you cling to him. “Bren, I want to be okay.” You look up at him with big eyes. “I want to be okay. I don’t think I will be anytime soon, but I - please know, I want to be.” You take a deep, shuddering breath. “Take me home.”

-||- 

“Are you sure?” Kala looks nervous as she packs for you. You’re seated, cross-legged on the bed, with a cup of tea in your hands. “It’s not an inconvenience, us being here - we’ll stay as long as you need. Or,” and her eyes flash with a hint of mirth, “if it is an inconvenience for you two, then we’ll clear out. You know- if we’re - crowding you.” 

“Kala, no,” you say firmly. “It’s nothing like that. We’re just thinking we want to go home. Back to Putnam.”

She looks at you seriously. “Do you think you’re ready for that?” 

The question throws you and you stare at her with wide eyes. 

“I don’t mean to be negative but -“ she pauses, taking another breath. “We just got here. You were barely keeping it together and I don’t know if - I’m glad you’re both feeling so confident. I am. But I don’t want you to get home and fall apart and have no one there.” You consider this and she reaches for your hand. “Zack and I just want what is best for you both.” 

“I know,” you tell her. “I know. And I’m a bit worried too, honestly. We both feel really good about moving forward, but I’m admittedly a little unsure about how stable we both are. He’s been so good over the past few hours-“ you cut yourself off. “That’s ridiculous. I sound absurd. The past few hours? And I think we’re ready to go home?” You scoff and drain the rest of your tea. “We’re not ready.”

“No no,” Kala says, getting to her feet. “Maybe you should be at home. Re-acclimating to everything there.” She touches your hand. “It could work. Because what if you get all settled here and then leave and have to start all over? This has been a good refuge for a while but the real recovery should be done in your home.” She smiles encouragingly. “And we’d be happy to come too. We wouldn’t want to impose by staying with you - but we’d be nearby if you needed anything.” 

“Have you talked yourself into it?” You look at her. “You were so against it, but it sounds like you’re all for it now.” She hesitates but finally nods. You feel your shoulders relax with her blessing, and your heart lifts a little. If she believes in you, if she thinks it’s the right move too, then maybe you aren’t crazy for wanting to go home. Your thoughts are interrupted when Brendon knocks lightly on the door frame. 

“Can I do anything for either of you?” He meets your eyes and you smile softly. “Anything.” He offers, crossing the room to wrap his arms around you and press a gentle kiss to your head. 

“Pack,” you say simply, tugging at his hair affectionately. “Kala and I aren’t going to do it for you.” He points out that Kala is packing for you and you stick your tongue out at him, squealing when he dives in for a heated kiss. Kala laughs and moves away, clearing her throat as she shuts the door behind her and tells you she’ll be downstairs. 

“Muahaha,” Brendon mumbles, clutching at you. You lift your head to stare at him. “Yes,” he clarifies, “I did just articulate an evil laugh. Because my evil plot worked. I’ve got you alone.”

“I would hardly call that an evil plot,” you tease, wrapping both legs around his waist and lacing your fingers around his back. 

“That’s because,” he says as he presses hot, open-mouthed kisses to your neck, “you haven’t seen what I have planned for you now that the door is shut.” He lifts his head to meet your eyes. His are dark and he winks before sliding down the length of your body. 

-||-

“Oh sweet God in heaven that’s good,” you whine, your back arching as your fingers dig into his hair. “Brendon- you’re gonna make me-“ you’re wiggling and rutting under his mouth and tugging at his hair; the only sounds you’re capable of now are breathless squeals and soft, needy breaths. 

“Do it,” he groans, looking up at you with dark eyes as he licks his lips. “I want you to.” You shudder violently as his index and middle fingers curl and the tip of his tongue flicks gently. “Thasmy bes’ girl,” he mutters as you shriek and let him send you over the edge. He laps at you tenderly, watching you through heavily-lidded eyes. “Fuck, sweetheart- I love how you taste.” He groans again and slides back, rolling onto his back between your legs and palming over himself lazily. “Gets me so fucking hard.” 

You’re still breathing heavily, one hand pressed to your chest, and he shifts slightly to press his face to your thigh. “Bren,” you gasp as his lips caress your skin. He mumbles something and strokes himself faster, hips rocking now. “Let me-“ you start, but he nips at your skin and you whimper, letting your head fall back against the pillow. 

“You rest,” he tells you in a deep, lust-filled voice, eyes shut. You can feel his eyelashes brush your inner thigh and it makes your own eyes flutter shut in pleasure. “Let me take care of this myself. You’re my good girl and you need to rest. I want you to rest.” The firm tone of his voice makes your heart race. You agree softly and he traces a little heart with the tip of his tongue against your inner thigh. ”Such a good Kitten.” 

Your heart swells at the new pet name; you realize that he hasn’t really called you “baby” or “babygirl” since your pregnancy was announced. Maybe a few times here or there, but it hasn’t felt as right as it did before. Kitten though- you weigh the feeling of it in your mind and it sends a thrill through you. Kitten is good. Kitten could work. You both know why he’s introduced something new, and it overwhelms you with love for him - he does think of everything. You take a deep breath.

“Thank you,” you manage. “Sir.” Brendon grunts and you watch his hand tighten as his thighs tense. You press your thighs closer to his body and he lets out a strangled moan as his hand comes down firmly. You’re breathless. “Gonna come for your Kitten?” His whole body goes rigid at the sound of your voice, the sound of his new term of endearment for you, and you whimper as cum lands on his stomach and rolls down his fist. You’re entranced by the way his cock throbs in his hand and pulses, the way the pearlescent sheen of his cum decorates his perfect skin, the way his face flushes and he bites his lower lip. “You’re the most beautiful man I’ve ever seen,” you tell him. Brendon smiles appreciatively, his chest heaving, and he reaches blindly for a tissue from the nightstand. You hand it to him and he dabs at his stomach half-heartedly. 

“You’re- Jesus, Y/n, my best girl. My perfect Kitten.” He crawls up the length of the bed and collapses beside you on his back. You purr contentedly and wiggle lower. Once you’re as far down as you intend to go, you amuse yourself by running your fingers through the mess on his stomach, sucking them clean, and licking at his hard, flat stomach to ensure you’ve gotten every drop of him. “My...best...girl,” Brendon repeats, stroking your hair and yawning. 

“I love you,” you say softly, swallowing and moving back up to nuzzle his cheek. He tightens his arm around your waist and you roll on top of him, burying your face into the crook of his neck. 

“I love you,” he whispers, tugging the blankets up over both of your bodies. “I love you so much. Let me take you home. I’ll pack when we wake up.” The warmth of his body against yours and the insulating heat of the blankets lulls you closer to sleep. 

“Take me home,” you mumble, scratching idly at his scalp. “I want to go to our home and I want to be better. I want to get better with you.” You open your eyes and look at him. “Brendon, please take me home.” 

-||-

“There,” Brendon says with a sense of finality as he throws his suitcase in the trunk of the car. “Last bag.” You laugh softly and snuggle into his side. 

“You say that like we had so many,” you tease, tickling his stomach lightly. He grins and looks down at you, telling you not to contradict him. “You’re not the boss of me,” you retort playfully, sticking your tongue out at him. 

“Careful, sweetheart,” Brendon warns you affectionately. “Remember what happened last time you stuck that tongue out at me?” 

“Yeth,” you say quickly with your tongue still out. He laughs out loud now and tugs your ponytail gently. 

“I love you, you naughty little thing,” he declares as he presses his lips to your forehead. “Ready to roll?” He wraps his arms around your waist as Zack and Kala finish locking the door of the kitchen and look back at the both of you. 

Zack gives him a thumbs up and Kala smiles encouragingly. Zack has booked a hotel room around the corner from your house back in Putnam and their plan is to follow you home in their rental car. Kala has taken Gina’s number from your phone and is arranging grocery drop-off for you both, and Brendon will drive home while you sleep. You’re at peace with leaving; it’s hard but it’s the right thing to do. Brendon opens the passenger-side door for you and you settle into the car. As you curl in on yourself, he drapes his leather jacket over you protectively. 

The drive goes by faster than you expected; Brendon slips a hand under his jacket and rests a hand on your upper thigh - the warmth from his palm and the occasional flexing of his fingers soothes you into a half-sleep. “You should rest,” he tells you softly, caressing your inner thigh with his thumb. You nod and recline the seat, shifting so you’re on your side and facing him. His hand shifts too so that your thighs are pressed to either side of it, and he squeezes gently. “Sleep, Kitten.”

“I like that,” you mumble with your eyes closed. He squeezes gently again and you can tell he’s smiling. “You calling me Kitten. It’s somehow sweet and sexy at the same time and it’s just...perfect.” You yawn and blink up at him sleepily. “I am gonna sleep,” you reassure him. He withdraws his hand, kisses two fingers and presses them to your lips fondly. You kiss his fingers back and snuggle down into the seat. You reach up and adjust the jacket so it covers your body, and he strokes your hair. 

“We’ll be home soon, Kitten. Soon.” 

[loverontheleft]

Even MoSex

I think I’m funny with that title. It’s MoSex Part 2.

AU with single Kinky Boots!B. Fluff and smut. Part 1 can be found on my Masterlist in my bio. 

Brendon x reader. 

Warnings: So...we’ve (@beautiful-tragic-fallout) created a points system for smut. 

0.25 for handjob

0.25 for fingering

0.5 for blowing him

0.5 for going down on her

0.75-1.0 for sex, vanilla

1.5-2.0 for sex, advanced positions

3.0 for bondage, spanking, other kinks, or public sex. 

This chapter has a score of 3.75, along with dirty talk and language in general. Hey! also some major fluff. 

Word count: 5.4k

-||-

“Brendon,” you marvel, inhaling sharply as you open the door to the suite. “This is too much.” He grins at you and sets both of your overnight bags on the ground before scooping you up into his arms and carrying you over to the couch. The door shuts gently behind you with a soft ‘click,’ but neither of you hears it because he’s already on top of you, mouth moving over your neck in a way that has you whining and rubbing against him. 

“No such thing,” he murmurs, letting his hands wander down to hoist your thighs higher around him on each side. “No such thing as too much for you.” You grin and move back against him, gasping when he shifts the fabric of your cowl-neck hoodie out of the way so he can bite your neck lightly. He jerks back and looks at you, the worry evident in his eyes. “Babydoll, did I-“

“No, no - it’s okay,” you reassure him. “Just surprised me. Felt nice. Oh- oooh,” you sigh as he nips at your skin again, suckling gently. “Gonna mark me up? Let the world know that you’re fucking me?” He meets your eyes again and you raise an eyebrow, your amusement evident as well as your hope that he’ll return to his task. 

“Is that okay?”

“Ye- ooooh,” you moan again when he attacks your neck with renewed vigor. “Brendon, yes…” 

“Atta girl,” he murmurs, breath hot against your neck. “Say my name.”

“Brendon, please!”

“My girl never has to beg,” Brendon reminds you, fingers squeezing your thighs as you rub against him needily. “Ever. Why don’t we go upstairs and I can really take care of you?”

You blink at him slowly. “Upstairs?”

 Brendon grins and nods, rolling off of you and standing carefully, making no effort to hide his arousal. You find yourself staring, entranced, and he chuckles and hooks a finger under your chin tenderly to bring your eyes to his. You shake your head a little as though to clear your thoughts with a blush, and he tells you you’re cute. You burrow into his arms, blushing harder, and repeat your question. “Upstairs,” he confirms, nodding towards the rear of the suite where the stairs stand. You gape at him and the stairs, pivoting almost comically between the two. 

“Stairs!”

“Sweetheart, your apartment building has stairs; you’ve seen them before,” Brendon teases, tugging at your hair affectionately. You roll your eyes and drag him towards the stairs. 

“Yeah, but that’s my apartment building. These are stairs inside a hotel room!” You give him a wild, awestruck look, flinging your arms out in your efforts to prove your point. “The romantic part of me wants to let you carry me up these stairs, lay me down on the bed, and let you ravish me.”

Brendon grins, leaning against the wall. “And the other part of you?”

“Wants to race up these stairs and jump onto the bed,” you admit, giggling. “We’re in the Plaza! You brought me to the Plaza!” Brendon laughs and makes a jerking motion with his head, indicating you should get going. “You’re right,” you muse, smiling. “We have plenty of time for romance and ravishing.” He laughs again and nods, smacking your ass lightly as you make for the stairs. You squeal and spin to face him, giggling and shrieking when he scoops you up, throws you over his shoulder, and makes for the stairs. 

“I changed my mind,” he says gruffly, his grip on you secure. “Couldn’t wait to get my hands on you. So, I’m gonna carry you up these stairs, drop you on the bed, and then I’m gonna help you to your feet and we’re gonna jump as much as my girl wants.” You purr your assent, going limp over his shoulder and reaching down to pat his butt through his pants. 

“Nice,” you comment, and he laughs as he hits the second-floor landing and heads for the bedroom. 

“Commenting on my ass, Y/n?” Brendon says knowingly, and you giggle, nodding even though he can’t see you. “Well, I appreciate the praise. Just know you’re gonna get yours,” he warns playfully, nudging open the bedroom door and lifting you off of his shoulder to deposit you on the bed. You sprawl out, arms lifted over your head to grab at him. “You want me, or you want up?” He asks, placing a knee on the bed and crawling up over you, hovering just out of reach. 

“Both,” you whine, biting your lip and gripping his shoulders to pull his mouth down to yours. “Both.”

“Well babydoll, you can't have both at the same time,” he says regretfully, letting you kiss him longingly. “You can have both eventually but not at the same...fuck, doll, your mouth…”

You moan against his lips and wrap your legs around his waist, holding him against you close. “Your mouth,” you counter, tugging at his hair and rocking against him. “Your everything…” He groans and rubs back against you, propping himself up with an arm framing your head. 

“Shit, Y/n...you make my cock so fucking hard,” he murmurs in your ear, and you inhale sharply. He freezes and looks at you. “I’m sorry - was that - is that - shit, doll, I didn’t mean to make you uncom-“

“So fucking hot,” you cut him off, letting your head roll back in ecstasy as he latches on to your neck, nibbling and sucking and biting down to your collarbone. “That was so fucking hot.”

“Yeah?” He pulls back to grin at you and his eyes are dark, dilated with lust. “You like hearing what you do to me?” You nod breathlessly; just the look in his eyes makes you needy and you find yourself reaching down between your bodies to shove at your leggings urgently. “Look at my pretty girl, stripping for me,” Brendon murmurs, biting his lip. “She knows how bad I want her, doesn’t she? Knows how good I wanna make her feel...”

“Uh huh,” you agree, hissing in frustration when your leggings get stuck at your ankles. He rolls off of you and you stand up, stepping out of them and your panties carefully before hopping back up on the bed so you’re standing over him unsteadily. 

“I love this view,” Brendon comments with a playful smirk, letting both hands travel up your calves, clearly reveling in your smooth skin under his touch. “But my dick isn’t that long - you gotta come back down here,” he teases. You shake your head, giggling. He arches an eyebrow. “No?” You grin. “Someone is looking for a spanking,” he says softly, and you yelp, giggling again when he scrambles out from under you to his feet and reaches for you. 

“Jump with me,” you say simply, taking both of his hands and bouncing from foot to foot on the plush bed. He smiles affectionately and joins you, both of you laughing hysterically as you jump higher and higher, spinning and shrieking. You have to admit, he looks slightly ridiculous, the way he’s jumping when he’s so hard, but you’re so thankful that he’s so carefree and playful with you. 

You’re caught off guard when he jumps closer and, slipping an arm around your waist, brings you down to the bed. You shriek in surprise but he’s already pounced on you, tickling you mercilessly. “No- stop, please!” You’re screaming, in full panic mode, thrashing under him, and Brendon must think you’re still kidding because he gives a maniacal laugh and only increases his efforts. Your mind is blank with terror and you’re kicking and shrieking, tears already rolling, when you finally manage, “Fuck- stop! Brendon - no, fucking stop it!” 

You both freeze and he stares at you and your tears, panic rising in his own. You wrench yourself away from him and roll over, arms wrapped tightly around your waist as if you’re trying to hold yourself together. “Y/n? Honey?” His hand is hovering over your hip, but he’s not touching you. His tone pierces your heart. He sounds so scared. You shudder involuntarily and he makes a small sound, one full of regret and pain. “Babydoll?”

“Please-“ you choke, curling more tightly into yourself, whimpering. “Please don’t touch-“

“Okay,” he soothes when you don’t continue. “Okay. I won’t. I promise.” You sniffle and, taking another shuddering breath, roll over to face him. He sucks in a breath when he sees your tear-stained face, and you can tell it’s taking all of his self-control to not wrap you in his arms and pull you close right now. “Y/n, I obviously fucked up and I am so incredibly sorry. This isn’t your fault, and I promise I’m not mad - I’m scared, baby. I obviously did something wrong, and I’d really like to talk about it when you’re ready,” he says in a soft voice. “Just so I can be sure to not do it again. I hope you believe me when I say I never want to hurt you.” You meet his eyes and nod, wiping at your tears. “What do you need to be comfortable? I’ll do literally anything, sweetheart,” he assures you, reaching out for you again but thinking better of it and letting his hand drop. “I’ll get off of the bed and sit on the floor, I’ll go stand in the doorway, anything. Hell, I’ll go downstairs. You just tell me what you want.”

Your heart swells. He sounds sincere. What was it your therapist always said? Trust your instincts. Or, as she had said ruefully, consider Emerson, and trust thyself. You take a breath. “Can you-“ you whimper and sniffle loudly. “Can you hold me and just-” He nods when you trail off and he holds out his arms to you, letting you choose how he’ll hold you, giving you the power. There’s a fluttering in your heart; he understood. He knew what you meant when you didn’t even know what you meant when you couldn’t find the words. You consider for a moment before deciding to trust him; you turn to face away from him and scoot back against him, taking his hands and wrapping them around your waist, both of his hands still in yours. 

“Is this okay?” Brendon whispers, careful not to touch you beyond his chest to your back and where you have his hands resting. You nod slowly and work on steadying your breathing. He’s treating you like porcelain and for once, you don’t mind. It’s nice to be handled with kid gloves; it’s nice to feel like he wants you to be okay. You want to show him you recognize his effort. He deserves the truth, you decide. You do trust him. Opening up, telling him this story, even the bare minimum details that you’re mentally selecting, will give him power again. But, you argue with yourself, you trust him. He won’t take advantage or abuse it. You trust him. 

“I don’t like being tickled,” you say finally, managing a short, rueful laugh at how obvious the statement must be. Brendon is silent, letting you continue. “It reminds me of - well. A time and a relationship I would much rather forget. With a man who didn’t treat me well or take care of me.” You’re silent for a moment and Brendon is waiting patiently, though you heard his incensed intake of breath at your last statement. You squeeze his hands as a silent ‘thank you’ and continue. “I don’t want to get too far into it, but he would hold me down like that and-“ you stop talking when the quiver appears in your voice. You take another breath. His heart is pounding against your back; he gets the point. You don’t need to go into any great detail and you’re grateful. “He would hold me down like that and now - I can’t. I can’t be touched like that,” you tell him. 

“Doll, I am so sorry,” Brendon murmurs, sincerity in every word. “Truly. I had no idea, but I should have known better than to put you in a position like that. You have my word that it will never happen again. I’m so sorry. Is there anything I can do to make it better?” 

You’re silent but release his hands so you can turn to face him. You snuggle closer and tuck your head under his chin, breathing softly and trying to find a sense of peace. How much do you really trust him? Do you trust him enough to let him- The question echoes in your brain and you come to a decision. Yes. You trust him enough. There’s a long moment of silence before you speak. “You mentioned spanking earlier,” you start and Brendon cuts you off. 

“Oh, honey, fuck - I’m so sorry - I - I shouldn’t tease like that either - oh god, Y/n, I’m so-“

He’s cut off by one of your fingers across his lips. “Sssh,” you tell him gently. “It’s okay. You didn’t - you couldn’t have - it’s okay. And besides,” you say, looking up at him with an unreadable expression in your eyes. “I like it.”

“Like - what?” Brendon asks, visibly confused. “Being-“

“Uh huh,” you confirm, reaching up behind you to guide his hands lower so that his fingers curve over you. “It makes me feel...it helps me focus.” He gives you a confused look, and you nod. “All I have to do in that moment is count and breathe. There’s no decision to be made. No pressure. No stress. I know exactly how many I’m getting and all I have to do is count and receive. You’re in control, you’re taking care of everything, taking care of me...all I have to do is focus and breathe.” 

“Well shit,” Brendon murmurs, smiling at you. “That’s all I want to do. Take care of you, I mean.” He kisses the top of your head and you press closer, sighing contentedly as his heartbeat soothes you. “How would I - how do you…?” He trails off, and you kiss his neck before pulling back to look at him. 

“Bend me over your knees and just-“ You mime now, and he fights back a grin. “Shut up,” you say with a shy laugh, blushing. He shakes his head, promises to not laugh, and tells you to keep going. “That’s all. Make sure I’m counting and breathing. But other than that…” you shrug, suddenly self-conscious. “It’s pretty simple.”

“And this really helps you?” Brendon looks wary. “I swear I’m not judging, Y/n, I promise. I just - I don’t wanna push you too far or make you uncomfortable or -“

“It helps,” you promise, cupping his face in both hands, trying to ignore how they tremble. “All I have to do is focus on your hand and the sting and the number and my breath. It takes all the stress away and allows me to put all my energy and focus toward one thing. It helps me recenter and refocus and-“ you blush now, pressing your face to his chest. “It feels good.”

“Then I’ll try,” Brendon says softly. “If you promise to tell me if I do something wrong.” You nod and scoot backward out of his arms, shifting to your knees. He sits up now too, moving to the edge of the bed and letting his feet hit the floor. “Over my lap?” He asks tentatively, and you nod, moving to him. “Comfy?” He checks with you as you settle over his knees, supporting yourself on your forearms. 

“Uh huh,” you say quietly, folding your hands together prayer-style and letting your head rest on them. “How many-“ you start to ask just as Brendon does the same. You both stop and laugh sheepishly. “Uh. Maybe twenty?” You suggest, wiggling in his lap. 

“Okay,” Brendon agrees, his hand just resting on your cool, bare skin now. “You’re going to count?” 

“Yes,” you confirm. “Make sure I count and make sure I breathe.” There’s a little silence and you smile to yourself. He’s not going to take advantage of this. You were right to let him inside your head. “Wait about three seconds after each,” you say. “Treat the contact like the ‘one’ and then count silently the ‘two, three, four,’ if that makes sense.” 

“I can do that,” Brendon tells you, his voice gentle. “Twenty?” You nod and roll your shoulders back, letting your head fall forward into the cradle of your thumbs. “Count for me, doll.”

The first swat is light, and you giggle - he’s still treating you like you’ll shatter under his fingertips, but now isn’t the time for that. “One - but - harder, please,” you say in a low voice. He murmurs his assent and the second is firmer. “Two, yes, just like that,” you purr now, shifting slightly in his lap. “Ohh- three...you’re good at - this - four...yes Brendon, keep going,” you sigh, both of you able to hear the longing in your voice. 

“Are you breathing?” His voice is deep and you shiver, nodding. “Good. You’re being so good.” 

“Five...ohhhhhhhh god your hands…six! Feels so good, yes - seven…” you’re rocking subtly against his thigh now and yelp when he next makes contact. “Eight! Yes...yes...nine ...oh god, yeah - ten!” You’re breathing hard and Brendon hesitates. 

“Do you need a br-“

“No,” you insist, lifting your head slightly and turning back awkwardly so he can catch your eye. “No, keep going. I’m good.” And you are, you realize. You trust him and he’s taking care of you and you’re okay. 

“You are good,” he agrees, massaging your heated skin tenderly. “Very good.” You giggle and grin, arching your hips slightly up so your curves press into his hand. “So good…” 

“Eleven…” you say with a soft moan. “Feels so - ooh, twelve! Bren - yes - thirteen…fourteen...uh huh...fifteen...god that’s good, oh - sixteen...oh- oh- oh-seventee-“

“Breathe,” Brendon tells you firmly, his hand stilling. “You’re not breathing.” You sit up, pull your hoodie off over your head, take a shuddering breath, chest heaving in your lace bra, and he pats you lightly. “Good. Keep going. Don’t stop.” You nod and try to take steady breaths. “Good girl. Good.” His praise makes you whine and he leans down to press his lips to the back of your neck. “You’re doing so good, doll. I’m so proud of you. And you look so pretty in that lace...is that for me? Did you want to look pretty for me? Did you want to make me hard for you? Because it’s working. Breathe, Y/n. Focus.”

“Fuck,” you whisper, closing your eyes. He knows exactly what to say to keep you in the right headspace. You feel a little thrill go through you. “Okay, keep going.”

“Keep going?” Brendon asks, caressing your hip. “You’re so close to being done, sweetheart, you’re so close…” 

“Keep going,” you confirm, taking another deep breath, knowing that he’s gonna push you right to the brink with these last three. Brendon tells you to count, and you nod. “Oh! Eighteen! Oooh - fuck - uh - nineteen! Baby - yes - fuck - do it - twenty! Yes!” His hand strokes over your skin and you moan, rolling over to face him, all of your earlier tension gone and replaced with pure want, every part of you craving his touch. “Please,” you whimper, pawing at his shirt. “Please.” 

“What do you need, sweetheart?” Brendon murmurs, running his fingers over your back. “You don’t need to beg. Just tell me what you want, doll.” 

“You,” you whisper, closing your eyes. “I want you.” You’re breathing normally again and his hand is moving so teasingly over your skin that you want to scream and kiss him hard and shove him onto his back and straddle him all at once. “Can you -“ you fall silent, biting your lip. 

“Y/n, you know I’ll give you anything,” Brendon says softly, cupping your chin and raising your eyes to his. “Literally anything. But I can’t if I don’t know what you want.” You whimper and he smiles affectionately. “Why don’t I guess?” He suggests. “I’m gonna stretch you out in this bed and figure out what you want,” he tells you. “Yeah?”

“Yeah,” you agree eagerly, giggling when he scoops you up carefully and lays you out in the bed. You obediently roll over at his indication so he can unsnap your bra. “I love your hands all over me,” you sigh, and he flips you back over to kiss you softly. You arch up into his touch, pressing your chest to his and he groans against your lips, hands moving over your body tenderly. 

“I love touching you,” he tells you, “so that’s convenient.” You grin at each other and he kisses you again. “Now let’s find out what my pretty girl wants from me,” Brendon whispers, trailing a path of hot, wet kisses down your neck and over your collarbone. “Lower?”

“Lower,” you confirm, spreading your legs a little so he can move down your body with ease. “Oh- that’s - that feels - ohhhh,” you sigh incoherently, closing your eyes when his lips close around one of your nipples. “Fuck…”

He looks up at you, his tongue still moving teasingly over you, and smiles, letting your nipple slip from his mouth, achingly hard and slick with his efforts. “I really like you,” he tells you, pressing soft kisses all over your skin and moving lower down over your rib cage and stomach. “I really like you,” he repeats sweetly. “Can I touch you here?” He’s kissing your stomach but not touching with his hands; you melt and nod. He smiles and frames your waist, holding you gently while he explores your body. 

“I - ooooh - really like you too,” you reply, spreading your legs wider. He purrs happily as he suckles at your hipbone, one hand trailing lower to caress your thigh. “Touch - yes,” you sigh, hips rocking slightly as his fingers trace up your inner thigh. 

“Someone is enjoying herself,” Brendon murmurs, grinning at you when his fingers move over the slickness of your inner thighs. You give him a look and he chuckles. “I’m glad. Want you to be happy. Want to take care of you.” You smile and roll your hips forward, seeking more. “Can I…?” He looks up at you tentatively and you nod, biting your lip. 

“Please,” you whine, tugging at his hair frantically when he settles between your legs and carefully lets his tongue trace over you. “Oh- please!”

“Fuck, you sound so good and taste even better,” Brendon groans, lifting one of your legs up over his shoulders so he can lay flat on the bed and press closer. Your eyes roll back in your head as his mouth closes over you. 

“Yes, Brendon, oh fuck yes!” Your voice cracks as he spreads your thighs wider with a nudge of his shoulder so he can slide two fingers deep into you while his lips close over your clit and suck gently. “God yes!” He grunts, clearly pleased with your reaction, and his free hand grips at the underside of your thigh, almost pulling you closer. 

“Talk to me, doll,” he tells you, licking eagerly as his fingers spread inside you. “Tell me how it feels.”

“Jesus - shit! Warm- wet- soft- fuck yes! Oh god don’t stop! Oooooh yes! Lick- ohhhh spread them, Bren pl- yes! Press right - Yes! Yes!” Your voice breaks and your toes curl as your back goes rigid. “Gonna come!” Brendon nods eagerly and presses closer, his tongue moving in soft, encouraging strokes. “Oh fuck yes! Make me come! Make me come!” You’re shrill and clutching his hair with one hand and the sheets next to you with the other; you barely recognize the guttural moan that leaves your body when your climax hits hard. “Ohhhhh fuck!”

“Holy shit,” Brendon gasps, rolling onto his back once he’s finished licking and suckling at your heat. “Holy shit, you’re so fucking sexy,” he groans, clutching at your thigh. “You’re incredible,” he adds, eyes closing, his mouth slick and shining, lips swollen. 

“You’re one to talk,” you manage, stroking his hair, whimpering when his tongue darts out to trace his lips. “That was so fucking good - oh my god…” Brendon makes an unintelligible sound as he presses his lips to your thigh, murmuring praise to you as his fingers caress your skin. “Oh shit, that was insane,” you add, eyes closed. “I can’t - you’re - holy fuck, you’re the best.”

“Glad you think so,” he mumbles, drawing hearts on your hip. He crawls up over you after a moment, staring at you affectionately and smoothing a hand over your hair, tousled from the pillow. “You’re so beautiful,” he tells you softly, dipping his head down to kiss your cheek. “So fucking beautiful.” You blush and he traces the pink flush to your cheeks with his fingertips, eyes searching your face. “I really like you,” he says simply when you give him a questioning look. 

You can feel your face break into a wide smile. “I really like you,” you tell him, reaching up to lay your hand over his on your cheek. “Thank you.” 

“Whatever for?” 

“Bringing me here. Being so sweet to me. Taking care of me.” You list them slowly, and he grins, moving to kiss you gently. 

“Thank you for letting me,” he returns, lips warm against your own. “It’s a privilege to get to take care of you. You’re so precious and good and kind and beautiful - it’s a privilege to treat you well.” He nuzzles your nose with his and you squeak, grinning sheepishly. “And you’re so damn cute too,” Brendon adds, pecking you on the forehead. “I mean it. It’s a joy to take care of you and treat you well.”

“Well - thank you,” you murmur, blinking back the tears you feel threatening your lash line. 

“Of course. Now…” he drawls, rolling onto his side next to you. “Bath? Room service? Cuddling?” He raises an eyebrow. “I’m an excellent cuddler.” He holds out his arm for you and you smile, scooting into his embrace. “There we are. Whatever you want. Are you hungry?”

“Maybe - a bath first?” You suggest tentatively and he nods, encouraging you to keep talking. “And then dinner and some post-food cuddles.” 

“That, babydoll, sounds like an excellent plan.” 

-||- 

“This is the most beautiful bathroom I’ve ever seen,” you comment, accepting his hand as he helps you into the sunken jacuzzi tub. He smiles at you and you give him a curious look. “What?”

“I was gonna say something cheesy,” he admits, and you make a gesture telling him to keep talking. He slips into the water behind you and you lean back against his chest. “I was going to say that it’s fitting, because you’re the most beautiful woman I’ve ever seen,” he murmurs in your ear. 

“You’re right,” you respond, squeezing his thigh. “That was cheesy. But it was sweet and I liked it.” You tilt your head to the side to kiss his cheek. A silence falls over the bathroom except for the gush of running water and the faint, almost crackling sound as bubbles form and pop thanks to the jets. “I’m so comfortable with you,” you murmur.

“And I’m so comfortable with you,” he responds, thumbs tracing circles over your stomach under the water. “I am so sorry about earlier. The tic-“

“It’s okay,” you tell him, cutting him off. “Really. You didn’t - you couldn’t have known. And the way you responded...how you treated me afterward...it was exactly what I needed. Thank you.” You hope that, despite your fatigue, your voice indicates your sincerity. “You’ve been so good to me.”

“You deserve good things,” he insists, nudging your ear with his nose affectionately. “You deserve all the good things.” You giggle and you can sense his smile. “I love your laugh,” he tells you. “So sweet and genuine and...god you’re just so cute,” he says, the happiness coloring every word. “I don’t mean that to sound patronizing or anything - I mean, you’re gorgeous and sexy and beautiful too; I promise I think you’re all of those things, but when you laugh like that, god it brings me to my knees because you’re so cute.” 

“I didn’t take it in a bad way,” you assure him. “You’re sweet, Brendon. And gorgeous and sexy and beautiful too,” you say with a soft laugh. “But seriously. It’s been so long since I’ve let my guard down and let someone take care of me the way you have, and I am so grateful,” you whisper, squeezing his hand. “I’ve been so independent and self-sufficient for so long and I don’t regret any of that; it’s been good for me to take care of myself. But sometimes it gets exhausting, holding it all together without anyone there. You’ve been so good to me and I can’t express how thankful I am for you.” 

He holds you tightly for a moment, your breathing synchronized, and when he speaks again, his voice is laced with emotion. “That’s one of the things I love about you.” He pauses, both of you feeling the weight of the word. “You- you're so strong and you do take care of yourself. You’re perfectly capable and that is so sexy to me. I don’t see this as taking care of you; I see this as treating you well and giving you a shoulder to lean on so you don’t have to hold it all together on your own. You’re not looking for someone to carry you. You’re looking for, as far as I can tell, someone to walk beside you. I’m just happy you’ve allowed me to be that someone.”

You sniff and wipe with a wet hand at the tears spilling over now, laughing a bit when you realize how counterproductive that was. “That was really nice,” you tell him. “And that,” you gesture as though your last words are hanging in the air, “was such an understatement. No one has ever made me feel so confident or strong before.” You turn over to straddle him and once you’re settled in his lap, you kiss him softly. 

“Hey,” he says sweetly when you part. “Don’t ever doubt yourself. I’m not here to be some hero who rescues the damsel in distress,” he assures you. “Because that’s not you. You’re the hero of your story and I’m just here to be your partner. You can slay your own dragons, Y/n.” 

-||-

“I know you did not just do that,” Brendon growls, his eyes narrowed. You shriek with laughter and pull a throw pillow up in front of your face to hide in your corner of the couch. “Y/n,” Brendon says, tugging at the pillow. Reluctantly, you let it fall from your face and you peer out at him. He raises one eyebrow and you beam at him.

“You look cute,” you tell him, giggling and leaning in to kiss the whipped cream and chocolate sauce off of his nose. “And taste so good.” He grins and leans back on the couch, watching you. 

“You think I taste good?” He teases, and you blush. “You look so pretty when you blush,” Brendon tells you, stretching out his arms behind his head. His muscles flex and he groans a little at the feeling; you’re mesmerized by how the ink moves and shifts on his body. You moan low in the back of your throat, eyes locked on his and he smiles. “You okay?” His voice is knowing. 

“Yup,” you manage, dropping the pillow off the couch and crawling over to him, stretching yourself along his body, nibbling on his neck. “We’re done with that ice cream?” You both turn to look at the remnants of the ice cream sundae you ordered from room service. You both quickly devoured most of it before you swiped the whipped cream over his nose and diverted both of your attention to the matter at hand. 

“It sounds like we are,” Brendon laughs, reaching down to hoist you higher. “Are you okay?” He looks in your eyes, searching them. You nod and he runs a hand through your hair. “We’ve both had a lot of wine,” he says haltingly, gesturing towards the two empty bottles on the table. “I’m not saying no, Y/n, I’m definitely not saying no. I just don’t want to take advan-“

“I’m good,” you assure him, kissing him deeply, moaning into his mouth when you taste the Pinot noir on his tongue. “I’m good,” you repeat, and Brendon groans and clutches at you desperately, rutting against you. 

“Yeah, you are. Such a good girl,” he says breathlessly, making you whimper and cling to him. “Should we go upstairs?” You stare at each other for a long moment, breathing hard. You want him naked under you, gasping your name and - you shake your head to clear your thoughts and refocus. 

“We should definitely go upstairs,” you tell him, tugging at his hand. 

[loverontheleft]

Ready to Leap (Chapter 40)

AU with B as a band teacher and reader as an English teacher. Fluff and smut. Chapters 1-39 can be found on my Masterlist in my bio.

Brendon x reader. Warnings: language and dirty talk, oral, cockwarming, hospital/medical needs, smuff.

Word count: 6k

-||-

“But we’ve gotta build to it, don’t we?” His words make you whine and move under him and he smiles affectionately, brushing two fingers over your lips. You open your mouth and suck his fingers gently, closing your eyes in pleasure and smiling internally when he groans. “Y/n, please,” he manages and you open your eyes and meet his.

“What’s up, B?” You let his fingers fall from your lips and he just stares at you as you rub against him and smile teasingly. “So hard for me...felt your cock twitch when I sucked on your fingers. Want me to suck on something else, baby?” He nods wordlessly and together you shift so you’re laying on top of him. Carefully, you work your way down between his legs, nuzzling his erection through the flannel of his sweatpants. “Love your hard cock,” you tell him, palming him gently. He groans and you smile again, tugging at his pants until they’re down his thighs. His erection springs free and you both moan happily; you hardly hesitate before you’re licking a warm, wet path from the base of his cock up to the tip. He groans as your tongue circles the head of his cock and you smile as you duck your head down to take him in your mouth. He inhales sharply and you move lower, taking him deeper. You’re moaning and humming in pleasure around him; Brendon is murmuring soft praise to you as you drag your lips up and down his cock.

“Honey,” he gasps, back arching as you hum happily. “That feels - oh fuck, baby, don’t stop, don’t stop, your mouth is so- oh god, Y/n…” His hips buck slightly and you adjust to avoid gagging as his cock twitches inside your mouth. “Fuck, sorry baby, I just- oh Jesus,” he groans when you look up at him and smile with your eyes, silently telling him it’s okay, he’s okay. “Your eyes, babygirl, when you’re blowing me, fuck, those eyes kill me, shit…�� You nod as best you can and pull back so just the tip of his cock is being caressed by your tongue; he swears under his breath as you start stroking him eagerly. “Gonna make me come,” he manages after a moment, body tensing. “Fuck, baby, you’re gonna make me come in your mouth.”

“No,” you moan as you free him from between your lips. “No, not til midnight. Not yet.” He groans and thrusts his hips against nothing, making desperate noises. “Someone seems ready to come though,” you comment, eyes moving from his face to his erection. He nods and asks you what time it is. With a laugh, you tell him, “my love, it’s about 10:30. You’ve got a while.” He swears and you smile sympathetically. “Ninety minutes, baby. You can do anything for ninety minutes. Let’s get back to it - don’t come, my love.” You start licking lazily at the tip of his cock, stroking him at an idle pace.

“You’re joking, right?” Brendon looks at you, desperation evident in his voice. “Ninety minutes? You’re gonna do this for ninety minutes? I absolutely cannot not come with you doing this, baby. I have maybe two minutes, tops. That’s being generous. Ah fuck, Y/n, please, you gotta let me come or you gotta stop.” You pretend to think before pulling back and resting your head on his thigh.

“I’ll stop then.” You start tracing hearts on his thigh with your finger, looking up at him adoringly. “Think you can handle something else?” He looks curious and you grin, sliding up his body and taking his hand, guiding it between your legs. “Think you can handle me?”

Brendon groans and rolls over so that he’s on top of you, hand working eagerly between your thighs. “Oh, I can handle you, honey. You know I can handle you.” His lips find the spot behind your ear that makes you shiver and cling to him; his fingers curl and you gasp, whining his name. “Don’t come, my love,” Brendon says in a lighthearted tone, obviously teasing you. Good-naturedly, you laugh and clench around his fingers, letting your head press back into the pillow.

“Okay, okay, your point has been made,” you moan, grinning at him. “You can handle me and I can’t handle this for ninety minutes. We need...we need to do something else,” you admit, arching your back to capture his lips. “Why don’t we go...do literally anything else?” You’re laughing and Brendon’s hand stills as he smiles at you.

“You know what we’re going to do?” He looks at you expectantly and you grin, reading his mind.

“Come on,” you say, rolling out of the bed and taking his hand, still slick with you, and leading him back to the couch. “Lie down,” you instruct, and he does, holding out one arm so you’ll nestle against him. You do so and throw one leg over his, moaning in satisfaction when he slides into you and remains still. “So obviously I have to move at some point,” you say, and he starts laughing.

“To keep me hard? I don’t know honey, just being in your tight pussy might be enough to keep me hard til midnight. But hypothetically, sure, you need to move at some point. I was going to cue up Amazon Prime since I can’t get Hulu here, so we can binge-watch The Twilight Zone?” The offer makes you break out in a radiant smile.

“You remembered that’s how my family spent New Year’s Eve!” You exclaim happily, and he nods, kissing your neck. “Yes, please! And we can move during the opening credits?” Brendon nods again, moving his mouth down your neck to your shoulder. The arm he’s laying on is wedged under your neck and the throw pillow, and the other is lazily caressing your body, moving slowly from your chest to your stomach to your clit, teasing you briefly. “Fuck, Brendon, don’t make me come,” you murmur, tightening around him. He grins against your shoulder but moves his hand anyway, back to cupping your left breast.

“I’ll be honest, I’m not used to you saying that,” he teases, nibbling on your ear as his fingers stroke your skin. “But I’m not offended. I see the bigger picture. We’re gonna make it to midnight, my love. It’s just three episodes til midnight.”

“That,” you declare, “is a great way to look at it.”

-||-

“No, honey, just a little longer, hold on just a bit longer,” Brendon pleads with you as you whine and buck back against him. “We’re so close. So close. It’s 11:57, Y/n, you can do it. Hold on for me, baby. Fuck,” he pauses to breathe hard. “Fuck fuck fuck I gotta hold on. I’m close too, honey. Oh fuck Y/n we gotta - time needs to hurry up because- oh fuck honey, you’re so fucking tight!” He’s panting in your ear, hand on your thigh as he thrusts into you. “Almost, honey. Almost. Oh god…”

“It’s 11:59,” you manage, eyes shut tight as you reach an arm behind you to cup the back of his neck as you both move together. “So fucking close oh god I’m gonna-“ your toes start to curl and you’re arching against him when he licks the shell of your ear.

“Now,” he whispers urgently, and you feel him tremble behind you as his cock throbs inside you. You’re shaking and moaning and bucking hard as you come; the hand on your breast moves down around your waist to keep you tight against him. “Fuck, coming,” Brendon gasps, and the warmth spreading through you sends a shiver of pleasure through you. “Coming in my wife, oh fuck!”

“Don’t stop,” you beg, whimpering and tugging at his hair. “Don’t stop fucking me, yes! Give me all your cum, fuck!” You’re both still moving in tandem, breathing hard, moaning each other’s names. “Brendon, baby,” you whisper after a moment when you’ve both stilled. “Happy New Year, my love.”

“Happy New Year, baby,” Brendon murmurs, kissing your neck. “Hard to believe we’ve only had five months together, but I’m looking forward to the rest of our lives.” He nuzzles your ear and you sigh contentedly.

“The rest of our lives,” you agree, stroking his hand over your stomach. “I’m so excited.”

-||-

“Ms. Milton- or is it Mrs. Urie now?” Anna interrupts herself to check your name. You laugh and tell her either is fine; most people have been using both as they remember and you’re not offended. “Okay. How was your honeymoon?” She looks at you with an eager expression and you smile happily, gushing over all of the amazing things you saw. You neglect to mention all of the amazing things you did.

The kids are buzzing and full of positive energy; as seniors, those with a 90 or higher don’t have to take their exam. You’re particularly happy since all of your seniors are exempting - that’s a ton of finals you don’t have to grade. Exams are in three days and the school calendar says this time is for review - since you’re not giving an exam to this class, you’re letting them study for other classes. You’re moving around the room, talking with individual students, trying to ignore the weird feeling in your head. Caroline gives you an odd look and asks if you’re feeling okay. You nod and tell her, yes, you’re fine, just a bit tired and she nods, understanding.

“Although,” you start, but you don’t finish the sentence. Your vision goes fuzzy and black and you hear a panicked exclamation from Caroline and one of the boys near her and then - nothing.

-||- Caroline’s POV -||-

You snap into action. “Eric, go get Mr. Urie. Run. Anna, hit the call button, get help. Brian, you’re a lifeguard. Do- something, shit!”

Eric is already out the door and Anna is scrambling over Mrs. Urie’s desk, hitting the call button twice in a row - the signal that help is needed immediately. Mrs. Urie always joked that she needed to be careful because the office warned her that if it was hit twice in a row, the SWAT team would show up.

Brian is kneeling beside Mrs. Urie on the ground and he looks calm. “Steady pulse,” he tells you. “We need to get her on her back as gently as possible and then elevate her feet.” You nod and start grabbing textbooks. “Four or five should be good,” he tells you, and you haul them over. Everyone else in the room is frozen and you’re thankful that they’re keeping out of the way. Carefully, you and Brian take Mrs. Urie by the shoulders and roll her from her side onto her back and then lift her feet onto the pile of textbooks. “Do you see any obvious injuries?” Brian asks you and you shake your head. You’re pretty sure she didn’t hit her head on anything on the way down. “Go get a wet paper towel. Cold water.” You bolt out of the room and as you’re returning from the bathroom, Eric and Mr. Urie are coming down the hall at full speed.

“What happened?” As Mr. Urie asks the question, he’s already moving to her side. You follow at a distance and offer him the compress; he takes it. “Thank you,” he says sincerely, placing it over her forehead tenderly. “Did you-“

But his question is answered as the principal comes bursting into the room. “Call 911,” Mr. Urie says to him simply and Jessica interjects from behind you that she’s already called. Mr. Urie nods and strokes his wife’s arm, obviously on edge. Your principal says he’ll go wait for the ambulance and lead them back; as he’s leaving, Mr. Dixon, one of the vice-principals, comes into the room and starts ushering students out. You and Brian are protesting and Mr. Urie says you can stay - “they helped her,” he tells Mr. Dixon. “They deserve to see that she’s okay.” When the paramedics arrive, Mrs. Urie is stirring, eyes fluttering open. Brian tells Mr. Urie not to let her stand or sit up, and he places a hand on his wife’s shoulder gently. “You’re okay, baby,” he whispers, bending down to her. “You’re okay.”

“I can sit u-“ Mrs. Urie starts but he shakes his head, telling her to just wait. “But-“ and though she clearly intended to protest, she falls silent when she sees the look on his face. “Okay.” She looks resigned. “I’m so embarrassed, I-“ but she doesn’t finish because the two paramedics are dropping the gurney down to floor level. “Oh no, please,” she says with wide eyes. “Please, let me walk out of here.” Mr. Urie must be giving her a pleading look because she meets his eyes and sighs. “Okay. Fine.” They lift her onto the gurney and carefully raise it up before wheeling her toward the door. Mr. Dixon beckons you out of the room and you and Brian follow him to another classroom where the rest of your class is sitting, clearly anxious.

-||- Reader’s POV -||-

Brendon is looking at you with terrified eyes as the paramedics load you into the ambulance and he scrambles in after you. “Y/n,” he murmurs, taking your hand when they close the back doors. “What happened?”

“Honestly, I have no idea. One second I was telling Caroline I was tired and the next I was on the ground with you next to me. I mean, obviously, I fainted but...I have no clue why.” You eye the IV bag they’ve hung and you sigh. “I’m so embarrassed.” You hate the idea of seeming weak in front of your students; not that they’d take advantage of it but still.

“Honey, no,” Brendon protests, leaning over to run a hand through your hair. “It’s okay. Honest. Don’t be embarrassed.” He kisses your forehead and you crane your neck, silently asking for more. “I just want you to be okay.”

“I am okay,” you assure him, squeezing his hand. “I promise, I feel fine. I don’t know what happened, but I’m sure it’s nothing to be worried about.” The ambulance arrives at the hospital and the paramedics check your vitals before deciding you don’t need the IV anymore. They also tell you you can have a wheelchair, but Brendon has to push you- no physical exertion. You both agree readily - anything is better than the gurney - and he helps you sit before pushing you carefully through the hospital entrance. They get you into a room quickly and you’re cajoled into a hospital gown, which Brendon tells you looks stunning on you, grinning lovingly. He holds your hand through all of the tests, kissing your forehead and holding an ice pack to the back of your neck to distract you and hopefully prevent you from fainting again while they take blood.

It feels like hours go by, but Brendon assures you that “it’s only been forty-five minutes, honey.” You groan and fall back on the bed and he chuckles when you pat beside you. “Need company?” He asks lightly and you nod eagerly. He crawls into the bed with you and takes the remote to elevate the bed to a reclined position. Carefully, you both lean back and he wraps an arm around your shoulder, holding you close. “You’re gonna be okay,” he whispers. He must be able to feel you trembling. “I promise. Everything is going to be okay.” The doctor comes into the room and Brendon sits up eagerly, arm still around you. You can’t read her expression and she’s very quiet.

“Oh god,” you whisper under your breath. “Oh god.”

“I think, Mr. and Mrs. Urie, congratulations are in order,” Dr. Samir says with a soft smile. You both freeze. Brendon whips his head to look at you and you know your face is just shock compared to his radiant joy.

“But I can’t be - how can I be - I have a -“ the realization hits you as Brendon takes you in his arms, kissing your temple. “Oh my god.” Brendon wraps his other arm around you, now concerned as you’re still trying to process. “I forgot to get my IUD replaced when I moved here - oh my god.” Dr. Samir narrows her eyes at you, asking if you have an IUD in currently. You nod wordlessly and she makes a small note on your chart. “It’ll need to come out, right?” She nods and you take a deep breath. “And I’m definitely pregnant? No chance this is a false positive?” You can hear the hope in your voice, desperate for a yes, desperate for this to be real, and Brendon squeezes your shoulder.

“Blood tests are ninety-eight to ninety-nine percent accurate,” Dr. Samir tells you and you look at Brendon, finally letting yourself be ecstatic. He kisses you hard, wrapping both arms around you. “I’ll give you two a moment alone,” she murmurs, backing out of the room.

“Oh my god,” Brendon murmurs against your lips. “I’m so fucking happy - I’ve hoped - I didn’t want to say - oh, honey, a baby!” His voice is full of absolute euphoria and you collapse against him fully, kissing him with everything you have. “Are you happy?” He looks worried for a moment and you nod quickly. “Are you sure? You had an IUD, you didn’t want a baby yet...We can talk about -“

“Brendon,” you whisper, cutting him off. “I want this baby. Fuck the IUD, it was a mistake but it was the best fucking mistake that could ever happen because fuck - Brendon, I want to have a baby with you. I want to have this baby with you. You and me, we’re going to be parents.” He nods, face glowing with love, running his hands over your back and shifting so you’re on top of him. You moan and run a hand through his hair, drawing up a leg so your knee is beside his chest as you press against him. “Oh my god. Brendon.” He whispers your name urgently, hands moving over your curves, holding you firmly against him.

You’re moaning his name as he kisses down your neck and back up to your mouth, grinding subtly up into you, your embraces growing more and more urgent and heated when there’s a knock at the door and it opens. “Oh!” Dr. Samir sounds taken aback. “I’m - I’m sorry, I can-“ but you’ve rolled off of Brendon, blushing furiously, trying to smooth your hair as Brendon sits up, shifting to his side so his erection is pressed to your hip and not visible. You’re apologizing and telling her to stay and she nods, closing the door behind her. Her face is slightly different now, more concerned and furrowed in concentration than congratulatory joy. “We’ll need to make an appointment to check if this is an ectopic pregnancy, given that you had an IUD in at the time of conception. I’ll get a nurse in to schedule that for you,” she says with a reassuring smile. “And a few recommendations on obstetricians, if you need one.” You tell her thank you and Brendon kisses your temple as she leaves again.

“What does that mean? Ectopic pregnancy?” His hands are roaming your body lovingly, fingers stroking your stomach as he kisses all over your cheek and neck.

You turn to snuggle against him, worry starting to creep into your mind. “The egg fertilized outside of the uterus. It can be dangerous.” You hesitate. “For me. For the baby…” Brendon tenses, hand freezing on your stomach, as if he knows where this is going and you take his hand. “Well…” you take a shuddering breath. He squeezes your hand. “An ectopic pregnancy never results in childbirth. They always have to be terminated.” He inhales sharply and you nod, feeling tears prick at your eyes. “And with an IUD, I’m at a much higher risk of having an ectopic pregnancy.” You hear your breath catch and Brendon pulls you in tightly.

“It’ll be okay, honey. It’s gonna be fine. You’re fine. You’re pregnant and I just know it’s not ectopic and we’re going to have a beautiful baby and start our family together. I promise. It’s going to be fine.”

“You can’t promise that,” you tell him despondently and he shakes his head, determined, jaw set, promising to take care of you, to take care of your baby. As he’s promising, a nurse walks in and greets you kindly. She sets up your appointment for a week from tomorrow and gives you your discharge papers. “Let’s go home,” you murmur to Brendon, who nods, already pulling up Uber on his phone.

-||-

“Hang on, hang on, hang on!” Brendon is frantic, moving to open your door. You smile up at him and laugh kindly as he offers you his hand. “I’m taking care of you,” he declares.

“I can open my car door though,” you say with a smile and he shakes his head.

“No, honey. I’m taking care of you tonight. Let me do everything.” You repeat the word back to him, amused, and he nods as he scoops you into his arms. “My beautiful wife is pregnant with my child. Her feet aren’t going to touch the ground; I will carry her everywhere,” he declares in a faux-gallant voice. You giggle and cling to him as he fumbles with his key under you. “I’ve got you, honey,” he assures you as the door gives. “Come on. Let’s get you inside.” As you cross the threshold in his arms, he kisses your cheek. “Are you hungry? Sore? Sleepy? What do you need, my love? I’ll cook, I’ll run a bath, I’ll snuggle you to sleep; anything you need.” Gently, he places you on the couch and lingers by your side.

“Mmmmm,” you think for a moment. “Food sounds good. And then maybe some snuggles in bed? See where it goes?” You grin at him suggestively and Brendon agrees readily, asking if you have any cravings. “Not yet,” you say with a laugh. “Honestly, whatever you feel like making.”

“Well, I feel like making love to my beautiful, perfect wife,” he says smoothly, sitting on the couch beside you. You grin and fling your arms around his neck, pulling him closer.

“Felt how hard you were in the hospital room,” you murmur, shifting so he’s hovering over you. “So fucking sexy.”

“You’re having our baby, Y/n,” he mumbles, kissing down your neck. “You’re having my baby. It’s some weird primal thing; I don’t know, I just look at you and knowing you’re pregnant, knowing I got you pregnant, fuck,” he groans helplessly, moving against you. “Gets me so hot. I’m sure that’s totally not cool to say and I’m sorry if it’s bad or disrespectful- I promise I don’t mean it that way - but - honey, we’re starting a family. You’re pregnant.”

“I’m pregnant,” you confirm, sighing happily as he lifts your shirt over your head and kisses his way down over your collarbone. “Oh Brendon, that feels good…”

“Let me make you feel good,” he whispers, kissing between your breasts lovingly before moving down to your stomach. “My perfect wife is pregnant,” Brendon marvels, kissing over your stomach tenderly. “Hi, baby! This is your father. I love you so much, and your mother is absolutely wonderful. You’re the luckiest baby,” he murmurs to your stomach, grinning up at you. “I know she can’t hear me yet, but I’ll say it every day anyway.”

“She?” You raise an eyebrow and he nods, telling you he just has a feeling. “Well,” you purr, tugging at his hair playfully. “Far be it from me to doubt your feeling. Any feeling on how far along I am? This could have happened at any point since my IUD expired…” you trail off. “Probably not early in our relationship as I’d be farther along and probably showing. This is probably recent.”

“I have a feeling it’s a wedding night baby,” Brendon tells you, grinning. “I don’t know why; I just have this gut feeling that we did everything to start our family all in the same night. We got married and we conceived a child.”

“You’re such a romantic,” you say with a smile, running a hand through his hair affectionately. “But I bet you’re right. About both. The wedding night and the gender. I hope you’re right,” you admit. He smiles with satisfaction and returns to your stomach.

“Your mother is the smartest, beautifulest, kindest, best woman I know, baby. We love you so much already, baby, your mother and me.” He kisses your stomach softly and continues moving down your body, kissing your skin as he pulls your pants down inch by inch. “Don’t watch, baby. I’m about to make your mother feel so good.”

“Gross, B,” you laugh, shoving his shoulder playfully. “Don’t bring our baby into this.” He laughs too and apologizes, reminding you that she doesn’t have ears yet. “Still,” you grin. “Best not to get into the habit. Little pitchers have big ears and what not.” He nods and wiggles your pants down your thighs, kissing eagerly, sliding your underwear to the side and licking gently. “Oh fuck,” you groan, rocking up to meet his mouth. “Oh god, Brendon, yes!”

“That’s it, honey, let me hear how good I make you feel,” Brendon murmurs as he slides your panties off too. “My perfect wife sounds so pretty when she moans for me. Love hearing how good I make my girl feel.” Suddenly, he moves back up your body and kisses you fiercely. “I love you so much.”

“I love you too,” you whisper, cupping his face.

“I love you more today than I did yesterday and I love you less today than I will tomorrow,” Brendon promises, stroking your sides. “You’ve been my dream girl since we met and you’ve been my wife for two months; now you’re the mother of our child. You could not be more perfect or wonderful to me. I promise I will always, always, always take care of you and our family. I will do everything in my power to give you everything you need and to keep you safe. You mean the world to me. You are my world. You and this baby.”

“Brendon,” you whimper, tears openly falling now. He kisses them away softly, running his thumb under your eyes gently. “I love you so much. You’re going to be such a wonderful father. You’re already a fantastic husband. I’m so lucky. I can’t wait to raise this child with you.” He works his way back down your body, pressing warm, open-mouthed kisses to every inch of you.

“The most beautiful, best, perfect woman,” he repeats over and over again. “The mother of my child, my wife, my true love. So good. Just perfect.” He's still praising you when he makes it back to your heat and he smiles up at you and runs his tongue over you teasingly. You moan and he groans against you, letting his tongue go deep as his hands frame your hips. Lazily, he moves a hand down so he can rub your clit with his thumb as his tongue works inside you. His touch makes you squeal and he smiles as best he can.

“Brendon,” you whimper, writhing under him. “Fuck, make me come. Make your wife come.” Brendon moans against you and lets his tongue slide out of you, moving to circle over your clit as he slips two fingers in instead. “Oooooh fuck!” Your whine is high-pitched and sustained as his fingers curl and spread and twist and thrust.

“That’s a good girl,” Brendon praises you, pausing in his tonguing of your clit. “That’s my good girl. Come for your husband. Come on his hand so he can slick up his cock with your cum and fuck you right.” You gasp at his words and he sucks gently at your clit, eyes wide and locked on yours as he works. The adoring look on his face coupled with the heat and suction from his mouth drags you over the edge, shrieking his name. “Fuck, honey,” Brendon groans, licking you in broad strokes after pressing his hand to you and moving it down to slide into his pants. “My wife is such a good girl; she comes so hard for her husband. Such a good girl,” he tells you, rocking back on his heels to tug at his pants before standing carefully and shoving them down. “My wife is such a good girl. Came so hard, so I know she’s so ready for my cock. Come here, my love,” he tells you, extending a hand to you. “I’m going to make love to you in our bed.” You take his hand and he scoops you up again, carrying you upstairs. As he gets into your room, he kisses you tenderly and crosses to the bed. “Here we are, my love. Let me show you how much I love you by making you come so sweetly.”

“Convenient that we both use physical touch as our love language,” you moan, back arching as his lips close around one of your nipples and his hand slips between your thighs, sliding two fingers in deep. “Oh fuck,” you groan, hips instinctively bucking to meet his hand. “Oh god Brendon, please.” He moves back up to your mouth and kisses you gently, tongue meeting yours as the two of you move together, rubbing and grinding and touching needily. He asks you how you want him to take you and you inhale sharply, thinking it over for a moment. “Like this,” you decide, seeking out his mouth again for a moment. “Like this with my legs up around your waist so-“

“I can work my cock deep in you and watch your pretty face when you come for me? When I come in you?” Brendon murmurs, caressing your thigh as you spread your legs wider. “I’m gonna be gentle though, okay honey? Gonna go slow and gentle. Not gonna fuck you hard and fast; don’t wanna-“

“You can’t hurt the baby,” you assure him, but he shakes his head anyway, telling you if you’re okay with it, he wants to take his time. “Brendon,” you sigh happily. “You can always take your time with me. Love when you go slow and we’re both moving together, trying to make the other come.”

“I think we’re pretty good at making the other come,” Brendon says with a wry smile. “Or you’re good at making me come at least, seeing as…” and his hand moves over your stomach affectionately. “ But enough baby talk.” He must see the look of tense worry on your face - because what if….? And if…? But you shake your head to clear the thoughts and his mouth is on yours and he’s rocking into you slowly.

“Oh fuck,” you whimper, tightening your legs around his waist. “Oh Brendon, honey, don’t stop, please!” He promises he won’t and his hips are thrusting slowly and steadily, both of you moaning as he fills you. “Oh my god, you feel so good!”

“You do too, fuck. Fuck, Y/n, my love, I’m not gonna last long - you feel-“ Brendon groans into your neck before kissing you hard.

“Me either,” you whimper, tightening around him. “Wanna come for you. Wanna come on your cock, Brendon.” He nods and runs a hand through your hair, tugging gently. You let out a high-pitched whine and rock against him hard. “Fuck, Brendon, do that again and I’ll come,” you promise breathlessly.

“Not yet,” he moans, suckling on your neck now. “Wanna see how loud I can make my pretty girl beg for me.” He grins, sucking hard. “Wanna make my perfect wife fall apart on my cock.”

“Oh, I’m gonna,” you warn, eyes shut tightly. “I’m gonna come so hard oh fuck, Brendon, please!” This cry is far louder than your last and he nods approvingly, nipping at your neck to elicit another high plea. It’s when his hand moves back between your legs and his index and middle finger slide gently to frame your clit, squeezing lightly and rubbing back and forth as he continues to thrust into you that your back arches and your lips part in a scream of pleasure. “Oh fuck Brendon, yes yes yes! Fuck yes! Don’t stop honey oh fuck now! I’m coming for you, Brendon! Shit, shit, shit!” His other hand pulls at your hair, your scream turns to a guttural moan, and you feel yourself come fast and hot and wet over him. You’re chanting his name and clinging to him and clawing at his back as he grunts and his entire body tenses before he comes deep in you. His fingers on your clit are still moving rapidly, keeping you tight and coming around him while the hand from your hair is now cupping your face as he kisses you urgently, both of you moaning needily into the other’s mouth.

“Y/n, fuck, take my cock and cum, that’s my good girl,” he groans against your lips, thrusting hard. You’re whining under him, begging him to fill you up and you’re both moving gracelessly, feeling the other’s climax through your entire bodies. “That’s my good girl,” Brendon whispers again as his hips still and he lets himself slump over you so you’re chest to chest.

“Holy shit,” you whimper, squeezing around his cock tentatively. “You really did fill me up with your cum, baby. Too much for my pussy to take; can feel you all over my thighs, fuck, so hot. Love when I’m covered in you. Oh god yes, Brendon,” you murmur, trying to stifle a yawn. “Fuck.”

“Yeah,” he groans, still slumped over you. “Fuck.” Both of your breathing patterns even out and he nuzzles your neck affectionately after a moment. “My good girl deserves food. What can I make my perfect girl for dinner? My sweet, pregnant wife needs to keep her strength up.” You think for a moment, eyes closed.

“Can you make what you made on our first date?” You look at him hopefully.

“The filet mignon toast? Yes,” Brendon says with a smile, kissing your forehead. “Absolutely. You wanna wait up here and I’ll call you down when it’s ready, or you wanna come downstairs with me now?” An idea comes to him. “Or you wanna wait up here and I’ll bring my sweet girl dinner in bed?”

“That one,” you say with a tired laugh. “Sorry. Normally I’d happily come watch you cook but-“

“No,” Brendon interrupts you softly, brushing his lips over yours. “Don’t apologize. You fainted today and we got some very exciting news. I said I’d take care of you; that includes dinner in bed. Rest, my love.”

“Can we take a bath too?” You ask hopefully and he nods, caressing your cheek affectionately. “Thank you, Brendon.” You stifle a yawn and he grins.

“Of course, honey. I’ll be as quick as possible. If you fall asleep, do you want me to wake you up or let you keep sleeping?”

“Wake me up,” you say after a moment. “I should probably eat.” He nods and kisses you one last time before slipping out of bed and tugging on a pair of sweatpants from the dresser.

“I love you, Y/n,” he murmurs, smiling at you softly from the doorway. “If you told me six months ago I’d be making dinner in bed for my pregnant wife, I would have never believed you. But this is real and this is everything I’ve ever wanted. I love you so much.”

“I love you,” you whisper, smiling and snuggling into your pillow. “I love you so much.”

[loverontheleft]

5:54am

Flashfic. 810 words. Brendon x reader. Smuff (smutty fluff).

Your fingers brush across his stomach and your lips graze his shoulder. He groans, rolling to face you. “Too early, Sugar, too early.” He’s right; it is too early. Sure, you’re both insomniacs who thrive on four hours of sleep, but this is only hour two. His eyes are still shut but facing you now, your head against his chest, he knows something is up. “Y/n?” He reaches up to stroke your hair and you take a shuddering breath. “Y/n,” he murmurs now, holding you close. “Sugar, do you wanna talk or just-“

“Just hold me for now,” you whisper, your voice cracking. He nods and you turn in his arms so he can entwine himself with you fully; arms around your waist and legs interlocked with yours. “Brendon?” Your voice breaks the still silence and he makes a soft sound, he’s listening, in your ear. “Will you touch me?”

“Sugar,” he murmurs, nudging your earlobe with his nose. “Happily. Always.” His hands, large and warm, move up over your body and your breath catches in your throat when he palms both breasts. “Like this? Is this how you want to be touched?” His voice is soft, gentle, and you nod. His hands move slightly, following your curves, moving over the swell of your chest, and you take another shaky breath. “Breathe,” he soothes, lips against your neck. “Breathe. You’re okay.” You nod unconvincingly and one of his hands moves down over your stomach, the warmth making you sigh and relax against him. “You’re okay,” he whispers, slipping his hand between your thighs, just feeling the curve of your inner thigh; your cool, smooth, soft skin against the warm, smooth but calloused, skin of his hand. “You’re okay.”

“I just-“ you break off and his hand still on your breast rolls down to cup you fully, thumb rubbing over your nipple, calming in a way, not even teasing. “I felt like if I wasn’t touched, then I was going to fall apart, fall away, totally cease to be. I needed- I’m sorry.”

“Sugar,” and his breath is warm on your neck as his fingers on your thigh stroke lovingly, “you never need to apologize for needing me, needing this. It can be…” he pauses, hand shifting slightly to rest between your legs instead of over one thigh. “I understand. Sometimes, no matter what the context is, you feel unseen. Unwanted. Unnecessary. Yes?” You nod, tears pricking at your eyes, and he must sense this because the hand on your breast moves swiftly up to wipe your tears before moving back down to warm your skin. “And you just need to be touched. Appreciated. Reminded that you’re here and you matter. Sugar, you’re here; you’re right here and I’ve got you. You matter; you matter so much to me and to so many. You’re loved; you know I love you, right?” He kisses your neck when you nod. “I love you so much. Do you want me to keep touching you?” And when you nod, he asks, “do you want me to make you feel good?”

“Please,” you whisper and it comes out as barely a breath, but he hears you. The hand cupped between your legs moves softly, wrist rolling slightly so the heel of his hand is massaging your pelvis. When you start moving back against his palm, he pushes his index and middle fingers forward against you; you both sigh when his fingers slip against your wet heat. His wrist keeps rolling and you’re moving subtly against him; his breath is coming faster on your neck.

“You’re here, Sugar. You’re right here. I’ve got you. I see you. You’re here, baby.” His voice is soothing and you whimper, biting your lip as he keeps working his hand between your thighs, stroking and thrusting gently. “You’re here; you matter; I love you. I love you. I’ve got you and I’m going to take care of you. My strong girl carries it all herself,” he murmurs in your ear. “It’s okay to ask for help, it’s okay to need me. I won’t let you down. I’ve got you, Sugar. I’ve got you.” His fingers keep going, the hand on your breast cupping and flexing and squeezing gently. “It’s okay to feel, Sugar. It’s okay. Feel this. You’re here; feel me.”

His fingers guide you over the edge and your head falls back on his shoulder, breathing hard as you come. “I love you,” you whisper. “I love you. Thank you.” He whispers it back to you, fingers slowing as your body starts to relax.

“You’re here. You matter. I’ve got you. I love you.” His voice is soft and he repeats this until your eyes are heavy; he can feel you sink into him, succumbing to sleep. “Rest, Sugar. I’m right here. I’ve got you. I love you.”

It is 5:54am

And I cannot sleep.

And I want, with everything I am, to be held and snuggled and loved.

Someone fucking t o u c h me please

Tell me I am worth it and worthy

There’s gonna be some smuffy flash fic coming from all of this neediness; I guarantee it.

[loverontheleft]

Ready to Leap (Chapter 39)

AU with B as a band teacher and reader as an English teacher. Fluff and smut. Chapters 1-38 can be found on my Masterlist in my bio.

Brendon x reader. Warnings: language and dirty talk, smuff, oral and piv, mild bondage. Think that’s everything.

Word count: 6.9k

-||-

“So, my sweet girl,” Brendon asks you with a grin the next evening, “is this what you had in mind for the ribbon?” He pulls the ribbon around your wrists into a large bow and you laugh, nodding. “Because I must admit, you look very pretty.” He scoots down the bed and kisses each of your ankles before tying them to their respective bedposts, finishing each with a bow as well. “The best Christmas present. Very pretty, baby.”

“Thank you, B,” you purr, puckering your lips for a kiss. He crawls up over you and places a kiss on your lips and you let your tongue flick out and caress his. He groans and cradles your face in one hand, letting the kiss deepen. When you finally part, breathing hard, you look up at him and you can feel the adoration shining in your face. “I love you,” you tell him simply, smiling.

“I love you,” he replies tenderly, working his way down your neck and chest. “God, do I love you.” His fingers trail over your stomach and hips, lips lingering at your ribcage. “You’re fantastic. Just fantastic. The best woman I’ve ever known; which makes me the luckiest man.” He finally settles between your legs and covers you with his mouth, just letting his tongue tease you. “My sweet girl, my absolute ideal woman, my simply perfect wife.” His words are hot against your core. His eyes meet yours and you sigh happily, rolling your hips gently to meet his tongue. “Mrs. Y/n Urie, you are the best thing that has and ever will happen to me.” And with those words, he licks you again while his fingers tease your entrance. You whimper and rock against him, moaning when his fingers slip in deep and his tongue rubs against your clit.

“God, Brendon, yes,” you moan. “You’re the best thing to ever happen to me - oh god - fuck- I love you so much,” you whisper as your back arches. He smiles and makes a happy sound against you, moaning as well when you gasp and squirm. You inhale sharply, toes curling into the mattress as you bite your lip; his lower lip is rubbing over you, slick and wet and soft, while his two fingers pick up a steady thrusting pace. “Oh god, oh Bren, baby, you’re gonna make me come,” you say helplessly, eyes shut tight.

“Good,” your husband manages from between your legs, smiling at you sweetly with shining lips. “Want my good girl to come for me.” With that, he swiftly ducks his head back down to lap at your entrance, both of you moaning and squirming and breathing hard. His free hand rests lovingly on your upper thigh, fingers flexing slightly when you sigh in pleasure. “Come for me, baby,” Brendon urges softly, licking at your entrance before sliding his tongue into you and wiggling teasingly, the base of his tongue rubbing insistently against your clit.

“Oh god, oh fuck, Brendon,” you whimper, feeling yourself on the edge. “Oh I’m right there, I’m right there!” He groans and tightens his fingers on your thigh; it’s an instant reaction. Your back arches high and your toes curl as your head presses into the pillow. “Coming,” you pant, eyes wide. “I’m coming, fuck I’m coming, now, right now, god yes Brendon, there, make me come, oh shit yes!” Your cries of pleasure are still echoing in the room when Brendon crawls over you and kisses your lips softly. You moan into his mouth and your hips buck subconsciously against his erection. “Fill up your wife’s pussy,” you whisper against his lips, breathing hard. “Fill me up with your cock and cum, baby.”

“Jesus, Y/n, how are you both the sweetest and filthiest girl? I’m so fucking lucky,” Brendon groans, not even needing to use a hand to guide his cock into you. “My wife has the best pussy,” he declares, picking up a slow pace that has you both making soft sounds of pleasure. “Gonna fuck your perfect pussy and come in you; gonna come so hard for my sweet girl,” he promises. You moan happily and, without meaning to, pull your left ankle free of its confines and wrap your leg around his waist. “Baby,” Brendon murmurs knowingly, smiling against your lips. “Someone was naughty and untied herself.” You nod, giggling before biting his lower lip and sucking gently. “Love my naughty wife,” he whispers in your ear, licking the shell of your ear before hoisting your leg higher. You gasp as his cock goes deeper and he grunts as you squeeze around him. “Love her legs around my waist.”

“Legs?” Your voice is breathy as you stress the plural and he nods, chuckling when you jerk your right ankle free and let it join your left.

“Legs,” he confirms, biting your neck lightly. “Love your legs around my waist when I make love to you.” You nod and moan, arching to press your chest to his and tugging at the ribbons around your wrists. “Love you,” Brendon murmurs, upping his near-frantic pace. He’s driving you wild; his thrusts are deep and hard and he’s moving so quickly that your pleasure isn’t a pulse but a steady stream, overwhelming you. Your lips are parted in a silent scream as he works and he smiles down at you, breathing hard. “Come for me, Mrs. Urie. Come for me. Come for your husband who loves you.”

“Oh god,” you moan, thrashing under him. “Oh fuck, Brendon, yes, baby, yes yes yes!” You’re squealing and panting and shaking under him, hips bucking as your heels dig into him. “Coming; I’m coming for you!” The rest of the sounds you make are wordless shrieks and gasps and breathless moans but he knows how good you feel.

“That’s my girl,” Brendon whispers, hips stilling as he watches you with near-reverence, eyes wide as your walls tighten around him. “That’s my girl, coming for me. Yes, baby, yes, you feel amazing coming around me; come for me, Mrs. Urie. Let me feel you come on my cock; fuck you’re such a good girl.” His lips brush yours and his hand leaves your hip, moving to pluck at the ribbon binding your wrists. “Hold onto me, sweet girl, come for me once more. I know you can.”

“Oh Brendon,” you gasp, throwing your arms around his neck as the waves roll through you. “Fuck!” He groans once more and you feel his cock throb as he comes, spilling into your slick heat. “Yes, yes, yes,” you chant, clinging to him and raking your nails down his back. “Come in me, Bren, come in me!” He’s rocking into you steadily again and breathing hard, grunting when you clench around him again. His hips move faster, fucking you hard through his orgasm and you’re both clinging to each other. “Baby,” you moan as he slows, slumping over you. “So good.”

“You’re so good,” he mumbles, turning his head slightly to kiss your cheek. “You’re so good. Merry Christmas, my sweet girl.”

“Merry Christmas, B,” you whisper, tightening your grip around him and breathing in the scent of his hair. “I love you so much. So much.” He mumbles something else and you smile, stroking his back now. “What was that, baby?”

“There’s a present for you,” he manages, nipping your earlobe. “I brought you a present from home, Mrs. Urie.” You sigh and run a hand through his hair, chiding him gently, reminding him he already brought you a present; the ornament that is hanging from the tree in the living room. “Babygirl,” Brendon murmurs, running a hand over your thigh with a smile. “I’m going to spoil you like crazy. If you think your only Christmas present was an ornament, you’re real cute.”

“B,” you protest, “this trip is a present too. Don’t tell me it’s not because it’s our honeymoon; it is too a present.” He laughs and rolls off of you, flat on his back and stretching lazily. You roll with him, slinging a leg over his and pressing against his side, purring when his hand moves over your back and down to your ass, patting affectionately.

“Fine, it's a present. But I have one more present for you too.” He smiles at you sweetly, kissing you softly. “Don’t fight me, Mrs. Urie. Let me spoil you. My parents worked incredibly hard to give me and my future family security and stability and comfort. You, my beautiful wife, are my family; you’re my only family until we have children. Let me do this for you.”

“Bren,” you sigh happily, kissing him again. “Fine. Fine,” you say with a laugh. “Far be it from me to disrespect your parents and their hard work. Just...promise me you won’t get carried away?” He gives you a playful look before peppering your face with kisses. “B!” You’re squealing and giggling, clutching him to you. “I love you,” you gasp, smiling at him and cupping his face in both hands. “I love you.”

“I love you,” he replies, kissing your forehead. “I love you more than I’ve ever loved anyone. You, my sweet wife, are my world. My entire world.” He stands reluctantly, slipping into the plush robe you each left hanging from the post of the bed. “Come with me, Y/n.” You stand too, letting him drape your robe around you and tie it before he tugs you close and kisses you gently. He leads you out to the tree and sits, patting his lap. You drop into his lap and he wraps his arms around your waist, kissing your neck. “Under the tree, baby.” He nudges your hand toward a glittery-wrapped package.

“B,” you warn, a smile in your tone. “The wrapping better be the only thing sparkly about this gift.” He laughs and kisses your cheek, fingers stroking your stomach lightly. “If I open this and there’s a diamond anything…”

“You’ll what?” Brendon teases, grinning against your neck. “You won’t do anything. You’ll love it, that’s what you’ll do, and you’ll figure out some filthy way to thank your husband. I know every kiss begins with Kay, but I hear blowjobs start with David Yurman.” You laugh and hit his thigh lightly, turning in his lap and kissing over his neck, murmuring that it better not be anything Yurman or even in Yurman price range, but you’ll blow him anyway because you love his hard cock in your mouth; he groans and you grin. Your lips move down his neck as your hands slip under his robe and he shakes his head, laughing. “But no, sweet girl, it’s not jewelry. I’m living up to my promise; the next sparkly thing you get from me is on our anniversary.” You nod and turn to relax against him, sliding a nail under the tape. The paper falls away and you lift the lid off of the box. Your breath catches and you twist to look at him.

“Bren, is this…?” He nods, eyes twinkling. “Brendon Boyd Urie, you got me a first edition of Gatsby?” He kisses your lips softly, telling you to open the book. “B,” you say, a little breathless. “I can’t - this is too-“ you open the cover and there’s a white post-it note under Fitzgerald’s signature but you can’t even read it; you’re staring at the signature. “This is a signed first edition?!” You hear how shrill you are, but you can’t help it. “Brendon- you- no, no, baby, no! Brendon, this is too much! This is worse than Yurman- fuck, Bren! Do you know what these - of course you know what these sell for; fuck, Brendon this is way too much!” You’re protesting and he laughs, squeezing you.

“I have a friend who is very good at finding rare books. He insisted on giving it to you as a wedding present; I insisted he let me pay him something for it. He charged me barely five percent of whatever number you’re thinking this cost me, I promise. I promise, baby.” You’re shaking your head, still panicking, and he hugs you tightly, kissing your cheek. “Read the note. I didn’t devalue the book by writing it on the actual title page, you’ll see.” He laughs and you nod, trembling. “It’s okay, baby.”

You lift the book with shaking hands to read the note in your husband’s familiar cursive. “To my wonderful wife on our first Christmas. Fitzgerald believed anything could happen in New York City - why don’t we go find out?” You stop reading and turn in his arms to face him, eyes wide. “Brendon…”

“Whenever. For spring break, or over the summer, or for a weekend. But you told me early that you love the theatre and I do too, so we’re going to go. I’m going to take my wife to the city and we’re going to see any show she wants and stay in any hotel she wants and do whatever she wants.” His lips move over your neck and you take a shaking breath. “I love you, Y/n. Don’t fight me on this. Let me treat you the way you deserve to be treated.”

“I love you,” you reply, eyes filling with tears. “I love you. You’re too good to me.”

“I’m exactly as good as you deserve, sweet girl,” Brendon retorts playfully, kissing the tip of your nose. “And probably not even. I probably fall short. But I’m working on it.” He wraps his arms around you tightly. “You make me want to be the best version of myself for you. You make me want to be the best version of myself for us.”

“Brendon,” you sigh happily, clinging to him. “You are so good to me. And you make me want to be the best version of myself for you and us too.” He smiles, kissing the top of your head. “Take me to bed, B.” You murmur this against his chest, and he stands, bringing you with him carefully. “I’m so sleepy, baby,” you manage when he lifts you into his arms with ease.

“My sweet girl,” Brendon whispers, kissing your forehead. “My sweet girl is all tuckered out, huh?” You nod and yawn delicately, eyes closing briefly. “My baby needs her rest, doesn’t she? God, I love you so much.” Carefully, he sets you on the bed and pulls the sheets up over you. He crosses the bed and climbs in, reaching forward and tugging the thick blankets into place. You’re facing him and he can read your face, so he lifts his arm with a laugh and says, “come here, Y/n.” You smile and burrow in, flinging an arm around him as his curves around your waist. “Merry Christmas, my love,” he murmurs, kissing the top of your head. You whisper it back to him, half-asleep already.

-||-

“B, what do you think it’s gonna be like?” You’re clutching his gloved hand, swinging it back and forth enthusiastically as the two of you work your way to the designated meeting spot for your Northern Lights kayaking expedition. He smiles down at you and pulls you in for a quick kiss.

“I think,” he murmurs, “it will be almost as beautiful as you.” You blush and he grins, rubbing his fleece-covered thumb over the curve of your cheek. “You’re radiant, Y/n.”

You throw your arms around him and hug him tightly. “Because I’m in love,” you tell him, smiling up at him. “Because I’m in love and my husband is amazing and kind and thoughtful and generous and he’s,” you stretch up on your toes to peck him lightly with both of your next words. “All. Mine.” He nods, adjusting your scarf and pulling your thermal hat down over your ears more snugly. “And you take such good care of me,” you add, taking his hand again and squeezing it as you approach the pier. “We’ll get a double kayak, won’t we?” You ask after a moment, a little nervously.

“Do you want a double kayak?” Brendon asks you and grins when you nod. “Then we’ll get a double kayak, my love.” He wraps his arm around your shoulders and you lean into him happily as you both walk down the steps to the dock. The young guide greets you in English, introduces herself as Anjelie, and gives you a brief safety lecture before passing you both PFD vests and leading you over to the rack of various kayaks. “I think we’re hoping for a double kayak,” Brendon tells Anjelie, who nods and lifts the double kayak off the rack with surprising ease. She places it on the ramp alongside what is apparently her single kayak and stands by as Brendon helps you settle in the front and you adjust the spray skirt. He slips in behind you and once you’re both settled, Anjelie hands you each a paddle and pushes your kayak down the ramp gently. You slide forward with a small giggle of excitement and turn to glance at Brendon. He’s beaming at you, eyes bright. Anjelie slides into the water beside you and, with that, you’re off. She’s leading the way, paddle slicing through the icy water and you and Brendon follow. It turns out you’ve both been kayaking before, so you keep a good pace. Anjelie comments how well you two work together and ask how long you’ve been married. “This is our honeymoon,” Brendon tells her, voice soft and full of love. You nod with a smile and she seems surprised. “But,” Brendon adds, “we’ve always been a good team.”

After another fifteen, twenty minutes of paddling, Anjelie back-paddles slightly to bring herself to a stop. You and Brendon follow suit and she looks at you both excitedly. “This is the best spot to see them. Now, of course, we don’t promise you’ll see the Lights because we can’t control them obviously and December is such a volatile month, weather-wise, but-“

“Oh my god,” you breathe as the sky erupts above you. Anjelie breaks off, smiling, before murmuring that she couldn’t have planned that any better. “Brendon - this is-“

“Yeah,” he whispers, and you both watch as the green lights dance above you. “This is incredible.” He reaches forward to take your hand and you slip yours back and interlock your fingers, both of you watching in amazed silence.

-||-

“That was,” you gush, holding both of his hands as you walk back toward the shuttle, “the coolest thing I’ve ever done.” He smiles and you start laughing. “Brendon, that was amazing. That was- and we saw it together. That was stunning!”

“There’s an entire world out there that I want to see with you,” Brendon declares, letting you pull him along. You stop short so his chest hits yours and you fling your arms around his neck to kiss him firmly. “This is nice too,” he murmurs, hands slipping around your waist. “Careful our lips don’t freeze together.”

“Worth it,” you mumble back, grinning and cupping his face in both hands. “Totally worth it for our lips to freeze together. Then we’d be kissing forever.” You both start laughing and he kisses your nose lightly. “Maybe that’s a bad idea,” you muse. “Letting our lips freeze. Maybe we should just…” you gesture to the waiting shuttle and Brendon nods, taking your hand again. You both are moving quickly and you wonder what he’s thinking. “B,” you say softly, tugging at his hand. He smiles down at you as you both climb the shuttle steps and he follows you to the back.

Brendon sits down and pulls you into his lap, nuzzling your cheek. “Yes, my love?” You smile at him and ask what’s on his mind. He grins at you and brushes his lips over yours. “That’s an easy question. Getting you back to our chalet, stripping you out of these clothes and indulging in some hot, hot-“ he pauses, smirking at you. “Gingerbread.” You blink at him and he laughs, squeezing your thigh. “I have this burning need to make gingerbread houses with you, baby. Or a house. We can work together.” His fingers run up and down your leg. “We’re a good team, after all.”

“That sounds like so much fun,” you declare, beaming. “Do we have stuff to make one?”

“I may or may not have called guest services earlier while you were still asleep to have them bring a kit.” Brendon smiles, pecking your lips softly. “We just need to assemble. It should be easy.”

-||-

“Brendon!” You’re shrieking with laughter as he tosses another gumdrop at your mouth. You caught the first one and threw both hands in the air, Olympic athlete-style, in victory, and now he’s really testing your skill. He holds up his hands in surrender when this one bounces off your chin. “That was a bad throw,” you scold playfully and he grins, pulling you into his arms.

“Or are you just losing your touch?” Brendon counters, nuzzling your cheek. You roll your eyes and take a fingerful of frosting and smear it across his nose. “Baby,” Brendon warns, “don’t start anything you can’t finish.”

“Oh, I’ll finish,” you retort with a grin, grabbing the piping bag full of frosting, yelping with glee as he picks up the rest of the gumdrops and bolts after you. It’s not long before you’ve got him pinned on the ground, perched on his stomach, fending off gumdrops with waving hands. “You’re gonna run out of ammo,” you declare, batting one away skillfully. “And when you do…” You pause and laugh. “I’m gonna squirt frosting all over your head.”

“Kinky,” Brendon remarks with a smirk, and you laugh, rolling your eyes and tapping him on the nose playfully. He nips at your fingers, sucking them into his mouth, twisting his tongue around them teasingly until you moan. “There she is, there’s my girl,” he murmurs, catching your wrist and pulling you down so your chest is flush against his. “Now, someone was talking about squirting frosting over my head? I’ll compromise with it in my mouth.”

You laugh and squirt a blob of frosting onto his waiting tongue. “No more,” you warn, smiling. “We need enough to decorate the outside. You know. Pipe it.” Brendon gives you a blank look and his eyes shift from the gingerbread house to you and back to the house. You follow this time and you laugh in defeat. “I know. Piping won’t help. It is pretty ugly, isn’t it?”

“No!” Brendon protests, chuckling. “It’s just...it’s not structurally sound. It probably wouldn’t pass gingerbread code. But it’s not ugly.” You both study it for a long moment before he gives you a hesitant glance that breaks into a grin. “Baby…okay...it might be ugly...”

“You jerk,” you laugh, shoving his shoulder lightly as his hand leaves the small of your back and tangles in your hair, bringing your mouth down to his. “You accurate, observant jerk,” you murmur against his lips, grinning slightly. “But you know what that means?” His face lights up and you nod. “Open up.” He parts his lips obligingly and you squirt some of the frosting into his mouth. “Kiss,” you demand with a smile, kissing him firmly.

“I love you,” Brendon tells you softly after breaking apart. His eyes are on you and he looks serious. “I love you so much.”

“I love you too,” you murmur, looking at him just as seriously. “You’re going to be such a great dad.” Brendon looks at you with wide eyes and you realize what you’ve said. “Oh! I mean not that I’m pregnant or anything. I’m not. I just mean in general. In the future. You know. Eventually.” He nods and you roll off of him and stand. He clambers to his feet and leads you over to the couch.

“Let me grab you a drink,” he says as you sit and he crosses to light the fire. “I’m feeling red wine. You?” You nod in agreement and he smiles, coming back to kiss you on the forehead. You moan softly at the feel of his soft, warm lips against your skin and he smiles, mouth curving. He makes his way to the kitchen and you curl into the couch, debating going to grab another pair of leggings. You’re cold but once Brendon gets back and you’re cuddling and drinking, you’ll probably be fine. When he returns, he sets both wine glasses down on the end table and crawls onto the couch behind you. You settle between his legs and recline against his chest, sighing in contentment when his arm rests over your stomach, already warming you. “So,” and his voice is a low purr in your ear. “You think I’m going to be a great dad?” You nod and he squeezes you lightly. “Good. I love my parents and I think I had a pretty great childhood, so I’m looking forward to giving my children the same, if not better. I want to give our children the best. I want to make sure that our children, and you, my love,” he pauses to kiss your cheek. “You, the beautiful mother of our children, know every day how much I love each of you. Y/n, I love you so much. I want to make a family with you. I think you’re going to be a great mom. In general. You know. Eventually.” You smile at his echo and he nuzzles your neck before cupping your chin gently to turn your head to his. He kisses away your tears, thumbs rubbing soothingly over your cheekbones. “These are happy tears, aren’t they?”

“Of course,” you whisper, shifting to face him. “I just- I didn’t expect to get what I thought was a second chance at happiness. And I didn’t expect to realize how I never knew what true happiness was until I found you. I love kids but was always ambivalent when it came to the thought of having my own. Being with you has changed everything...I can’t imagine a world where we don’t have children one day. I’m so happy we found each other.” You bury your face in his chest and sigh in contentment. “I’m just so happy. Honestly, I know we both want to wait for a while but if I ended up pregnant tomorrow, I’d be okay with that.”

“Definitely,” Brendon agrees, kissing the top of your head. You turn back in his arms and snuggle against him. “In our perfect world, we’ll wait, but...definitely. I know I just said I want to wait, but there’s a part of me that wants to start working on our family immediately. You are good with a lot of kids, right?” His arm pulls back and his fingers trace over your stomach under your sweater. You shiver with pleasure, arching your back into his touch. “I know we were both only children so…”

“Definitely a lot of kids,” you agree, resting your head back on his shoulder. “But define a lot?” He laughs and asks you what your number, your max number is. “...maybe...four?” Your voice is hesitant and Brendon nods- you feel it against your head.

“Four is good. I think four is great. But,” and he breaks off to laugh. “What happens if we’re going for baby number four and it’s twins?” You twist to look at him and he returns your wide-eyed stare, smiling. “Just saying. Or triplets! What if it’s triplets?!” His voice is teasing now but you can feel how pale you are and he laughs affectionately, kissing your nose. “I’m only teasing, my love,” he murmurs. “Six kids; Jesus. We’d never make it.”

“Just you watch,” you laugh softly. “Gonna be an octo-mom.” Now it’s Brendon’s turn to pale and you grin. “God; what a nightmare that would be.” You both fall quiet and he nuzzles your cheek, hands laced over your body. “But we’d manage.”

“Uh,” and Brendon’s voice is incredulous. “Babygirl, I don’t think even our amazing teamwork could handle eight infants at once.” You scoff and tell him that’s quitter talk and he laughs, kissing over your neck. “You want eight? At once?”

“I don’t,” you laugh now, rocking back against him subtly. “I definitely don’t. But we could manage. We would manage.” You both fall silent. “Let’s not attempt to prove or debunk my statement.” He nods and nips at your neck lightly, murmuring how good you feel. “God Brendon, you too,” you whimper, rolling your hips back against him, pleased to find his erection pressing needily against you. “You’re so hard…”

“Get hard for my perfect wife so easily. Helps that my sweet girl gets wet for me just as easily,” Brendon tells you softly, fingers slipping over your heat, pressing gently through your leggings. “Baby…” he sighs when you moan quietly. “Honey, take these off, let me touch you like you deserve.” You stand, give him your hand, and pull him to his feet. He takes you in his arms and kisses you longingly, hands lifting your sweater. The kiss breaks long enough to get both of your shirts off and it’s cold enough that you press against him immediately. “Want to go to bed?” He asks the question as he drops to his knees and pulls your leggings down with him. You wait until he stands up so you can shove his pants down too.

“No,” you murmur, pushing him down gently onto the couch. “Want you right here. Want to sit on your lap and ride your thick cock.” As you say this, you straddle him and, eyes locked on his, his hands on your hips, you work your way down his length, mouth parted in wordless pleasure. “Gonna go slow,” you tell him, and you do, picking up a slow grind as you kiss him fervently. He groans and one of his hands leaves your hip to run up your back and press you closer. “You feel so good, Brendon,” you finally manage, moving a fraction faster. He nods, eyes wide.

“You too, Y/n. Fuck, you feel so good. Tighter than normal. Hot. Wet. Slick. Wanna come in you.” He kisses you urgently. “Wanna come in you,” he repeats, lips still brushing yours. You moan as you grind your way up his cock and you both inhale sharply as you settle back down. “Oh god, Y/n, my love,” Brendon groans, the hand on your back moving higher to stroke your hair as you dig your nails into his shoulders, moving slowly. “Baby, just-“ he gasps when you slip up, squeezing hard around the head of his cock. “Y/n,” he manages through a strangled voice. “I’m not gonna last long if you keep doing that.”

“Doing what?” You give him an innocent smile and squeeze again. He hisses in pleasure and his hand on your hip tightens, making you moan happily. He puts his other hand back on your hip and gives your hips a gentle pull as he rocks up desperately. You let him bring you down against him fully, whimpering and rocking. “Brendon, you feel so good!”

“Fuck,” he groans helplessly as you grind against him and squeeze tightly. “Honey, I’m gonna-“ you drop your head onto his shoulder and kiss his neck, urging him to come, telling him you’ll come if he does. “Baby, Y/n, fuck.” You bite his neck lightly and he grunts, his fingers digging into your hips as he bucks up into you. “Fuck, honey, now,” he chokes out, and you nod urgently, clenching around him as he spills into you.

“Oh god yeah,” you sigh, rocking your hips forward to meet his thrusts, trying to take him deeper. “Come in me come in me oh fuck I’m coming you’re making me come,” You say in one breath before sinking your teeth into his shoulder. He groans and you feel his cock throb inside of you. Your eyes are shut tightly and you’re whining, rolling your hips roughly. “Oh fuck, Brendon,” you moan. His hands leave your hips and his arms tighten around you as you tremble in his lap.

“My sweet girl,” he murmurs, lips at your ear. “My beautiful, sweet girl. Fuck, I love you.” You nod desperately, breathing hard and he nudges your head back so he can kiss your lips gently. “Let me take care of you. Let me make you feel good.” You nod, still speechless and eyes slightly glazed over. He smiles and shifts you off of his lap; you both let out strangled moans of equal parts pleasure and loss. “Here honey, lay down,” Brendon urges you, and together you shift so he’s spooning you, one of his arms serving as your pillow. You sigh his name and he smiles, two fingers dancing across the curve of your hip. “Yes, Y/n?”

“You’re so good. You’re so fucking good.” He laughs and slips his hand down between your thighs, lifting your top leg slightly so he can rock into you from behind. “Oh fuck yes,” you groan, arching back to get more. “Oh fuck, yes, Brendon yes.” His thrusts are slow and deep and his other arm is thrown over your body, his hand palming your breasts gently. “Fuck, that feels so good,” you whisper, moving against him. He shushes you lovingly, telling you to just feel and enjoy.

“Let me make you feel good. You don’t need to do a thing, love. Just tell me what you want. Is this what you want? Me fucking you slow and hard from behind while I play with your pretty nipples?” You nod, eyes slipping shut. “Good. You just tell me what you want and I’ll give it to you. You know I’ll give it to you so good.”

“You always do,” you murmur, turning your head slightly to kiss his forearm that frames your face. “You always make me feel so good, so amazing. I love you.” He whispers it back to you, and both of you fall silent, lost in the touches and thrusts and sensations. Your eyes are still shut, overwhelmed with pleasure and he’s touching you everywhere, moaning low in your ear when he feels your body react around his cock. You’re not sure how long it’s been; neither of you are particularly focused on coming; just feeling each other like this is enough of a rush.

“Honey,” Brendon murmurs, caressing your thigh and going even slower. “Do you want to come? I can make you come-“ but you’re shaking your head.

“I know you can. Don’t need to- always want to but don’t need to. Sort of just want to keep doing this. This is so nice; just...touching each other. No goal of coming, just a goal of making the other feel good. And you’re making me feel good…” your voice trails off and his lips press to the top of your head. “Plus, I’m really tired. Let’s just touch and feel until we fall asleep.” Brendon makes a soft sound, agreeing, and you rock back to press more against him. His hand is still moving over your body, less teasing and more soothing now, and his hips are finding a comfortable, lazy pace. Both of you are breathing slower, and you’re not sure who falls asleep first.

-||-

“Slept so well,” you murmur, eyes still closed. “When did I turn?” Brendon chuckles, running a warm hand over your back. At some point in the night, you got up and flipped to face him. The odd part was that somehow, he ended up back inside you and your left leg was flung up onto his hip, his hand curved under your thigh to hold you in place as you tangled your arms around his neck.

“Don’t know, but I’m happy you decided to. Let me wake up to your sweet face,” Brendon whispers, nuzzling your cheek. “Breakfast should be here soon so-“

“No,” you interrupt him with a smile. “Don’t get up. Don’t pull out of me. Grab a blanket and drape it over us and we’ll pretend to be asleep when she gets here. They don’t have to see how we’re pressed together, how you’re holding me close.” He laughs and agrees, grabbing another thick blanket off of the back of the couch and together, you work to spread it over yourselves. The warmth is instant and you find yourself burrowing into his arms and tugging the blanket up to your noses. You close your eyes again and his arms tighten around you. When you both wake up again, breakfast has been delivered and is set up in the kitchen area. Carefully, you untangle yourselves from each other and Brendon retrieves your robes, wrapping you in yours lovingly with a kiss to your forehead before slipping into his own.

-||-

The next week passes in a blur and you are honestly surprised when you realize it’s New Year’s Eve. Brendon ordered a bottle of champagne to be delivered to your chalet and after an amazing dinner out, you both wanted nothing more than to curl up on the couch with champagne and watch the ball drop. Until Brendon came up with a more entertaining option. “Bren!” You’re shrieking with laughter as he sweeps you off of your feet and tosses you over his shoulder. “What are you doing?”

He pats your back reassuringly. “We’re gonna have special sex.” You repeat his phrasing with the question obvious in your tone and Brendon clarifies. “We can’t come until midnight.”

“In what world is that a good idea?” You’re incredulous and laughing. “It’s just past ten now. Why would we do that to ourselves?”

“Because…” Brendon murmurs, flipping you back over onto your bed and crawling up over you. “Because when we can finally come, it’ll be so fucking good. And imagine starting the new year that way…” he brushes his lips over yours. “The clock strikes midnight and I finally let you come on my cock. The clock strikes midnight and I finally come in you. We end our 2018 and begin our 2019 on a very high note. We set the tone for the new year.” You consider this and finally nod. “Ahhhhh, you won’t regret this, my love!” Brendon looks practically giddy and you laugh delightedly at his expression. “Gonna make you feel so good. Gonna start by stripping you down and giving you a massage.”

“Does that count as sex?” You’re honestly curious and he smirks and taps you on the nose, telling you it counts because you’ll be naked and he’ll be making you moan. “That logic checks out,” you tease, and Brendon laughs, flicking your thigh lightly. Once you’re out of your clothes, stretched out and preening under his hungry stare, Brendon rummages through his suitcase until he returns with a small bottle of massage oil.

“Gonna start at your legs and work my way up,” Brendon tells you in a low voice as he pours some of the oil into his hands. He rubs them together and you can’t help it; a low moan escapes you when he touches you. His hands work over your skin, massaging gently, thumbs moving in broad sweeping circles as his fingers flex. “Honey, you feel so good,” he murmurs after a moment. “Don’t ever want to stop touching you.”

“I can work with that,” you manage, trying to steady your breathing; just his touch is making you dizzy. “Oh Brendon…” your voice is a soft sigh as his hands move up the backs of your thighs, caressing and massaging and stroking. “Don’t ever stop.” He leans forward slightly to press his lips to your back, telling you that he never plans to stop. “For the rest of our lives?”

“For the rest of our lives,” he promises. “I’m going to touch my wife, make her feel so good, every day for the rest of our lives. Show her how loved she is, how adored she is, how wanted she is, every day for the rest of our lives. My sweet girl; I love you so much.” His hands reach your lower back and he’s stroking your sides, sending heat through your body. As his hands keep working over you, moving higher and higher, you find it harder and harder to keep your moans suppressed. “Don’t fight it, babygirl, let me hear how good I make you feel. Want to turn over for me?” You nod quickly and he shifts to let you turn under him. “Hello, my love,” he murmurs, dipping his head down to kiss you. “How are you feeling?” One of his hands is on your waist and the other is framing your face. You grin and reach for the hand on your waist and slowly guide it between your legs. “Fuck,” Brendon hisses, feeling how wet you are. “Y/n, honey, tell me what you want.”

“You know what I want,” you tell him softly, gripping his wrist and holding his hand against you as he runs his fingers through your wetness over and over again. “You know exactly what I want.” To prove your point, you hook a leg up and around his waist, pressing yourself against the growing bulge in his sweatpants. “You know exactly what I want,” you repeat quietly.

“I do know,” Brendon agrees softly, kissing you again. “I also know that I’m gonna make you wait for it.” Your eyes go wide and you pout, so he leans down and kisses you gently. “Gonna make you come so fucking good at midnight. But we’ve gotta build to it, don’t we?”