#smuff! smutty fluff 🥵💗

[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.