Fandom: Panic! at the Disco
Pairing: Brendon Urie / Spencer Smith
Rating: NC-17 overall.
Word count: 6,440 (this part)
Warnings (for this part): None
Notes: Thank you to hermette for the beta. Any remaining errors are my own. For ohohstarryeyed.
Further notes can be found in part one. Also posted here at AO3.
Accompanying mix available here.
Inspired by The Holiday. Sort of. Um.
Summary: It's their last night in Wales, and Spencer doesn't want it to end.
Previously: [I] [II] [III] [IV] [V] [VI] [VII] [VIII] [IX] [X] [XI] [XII] [XIII] [XIV]
"Hey," Brendon said, holding up a purple candle. "Come smell this, do you think my mom would like one of these?"
Spencer put down the tiny clay candle snuffer he'd been considering getting for his mom and wandered over to the other side of the candle workshop, to where Brendon was holding up four different colored candles out for Spencer to sniff. Spencer dutifully smelled each of them and then pointed to the blue one. "That one."
"You think?" Brendon sniffed it and made a face. "Are you sure?"
"It's your mom, dude," he said, shrugging. "That's my favorite, though."
"I'll buy it for you, then," Brendon said, grinning. He unhooked a couple of candles from the rack, and put them in his tiny basket.
Spencer swallowed, managing half a smile, and slid his hand into the small of Brendon's back, just for a moment. "I'm going upstairs," he said. "I'll see you in a minute."
They were in a tiny candle workshop, higher up in the same valley that they'd visited the previous night on their trip to Bessie's pub, but everything looked different in the daylight. There was still snow on the ground, but most of it had melted, which meant that driving the tiny, narrow lanes wasn't as big of a death wish as Spencer had anticipated. It also meant doing a last minute rush around for souvenirs to take back with them wasn't going to end in their imminent demise, which Spencer counted as a plus.
Dave and Mary had suggested this candle place, when they'd had breakfast together that morning and Brendon had let slip they still had a million Christmas presents and souvenirs to buy. Mary had called up to make sure they'd be open when Spencer and Brendon got there, because apparently they were a seasonal business only and didn't open up regularly outside of the tourist season. That made no sense at all to Spencer, who thought that deliberately missing out on selling in the holiday period seemed like a particularly stupid idea.
"They'll open up for you if you want to go, though," Mary had pointed out.
That didn't sound like good business sense to Spencer, but he'd mostly changed his mind whenthey'd arrived. The workshop was attached to a house, and the couple who owned both seemed very friendly, and very well wrapped up against the freezing weather. Spencer suspected that they got very specific traffic, located as they were in a village of three houses and a tiny pub, a few miles off the main road. All of the candles were handmade, and they hung in pairs over great wooden beams that ran the length of the workshop ceiling. He had no idea how old the building was, but it felt really fucking old.
Upstairs was a gallery, mostly housing candelabras and the odd piece of artwork, but Spencer couldn't stop staring at the metalwork that covered the whole of one wall. It was incredible. He fingered an iron wall sconce, which looked like something out of a Robin Hood movie, but the piece he couldn't take his eyes off was a large steel dragon. It hung right in the middle of the wall, a burnished steel version of the Welsh dragon, breathing fire.
"That's amazing," Brendon said, hooking his chin over Spencer's shoulder. Spencer hadn't even heard him come up the stairs.
"Right?" Spencer said.
Brendon slid his arm around Spencer's waist, and Spencer covered his hand with his own. Everything felt so fragile today, like they both knew that things were coming to an end, and tomorrow they had to figure out how the hell to go back to the way things were without screwing up what they had. Spencer wasn't sure he could. It felt like his heart was getting ready to break right in two. "You should get it," Brendon said.
"How will we get it home?"
Brendon shrugged, his mouth brushing Spencer's neck. "We'll pay excess baggage."
"It's beautiful," Spencer acknowledged, reaching out a finger to touch it. He had no idea how someone made something like this, made a sheet of steel breathe fire. "It'd be a pain in the ass, getting it home."
"Do you want it?" Brendon asked. He'd been like this all day, in each of the stores they'd been to. They'd been to the Blue Mountain chocolate shop before this, and aside from buying chocolates for everyone in their families, Brendon had come out with a box the size of his head for Spencer. He'd said, it's the holidays, and looked the other way when Spencer had questioned it. Spencer figured it was hard for Brendon too, trying to negotiate the step back to being just friends. He'd come out of the clothes shop earlier with a bag that looked decidedly bigger than the pile he'd taken to the register, too.
Spencer wished that buying Brendon a gift was as easy, but every time he tried to think about it, he just kept coming up blank.
"It's awesome," Spencer said. He tried to imagine it on his wall, but all he could think about was that he was living with Brendon, and it wasn't his wall, it was Brendon's, and how could he go back to living with him and not having this? He resolved to talk to Brendon about it when they got back home to L.A., if it even vaguely looked like Brendon might be up for taking it further.
"I'm going to go tell her that I want it," Brendon said decidedly, going back toward the steps.
"Hey," Spencer said. "You can't keep buying stuff for me. I'll buy it."
Something flickered on Brendon's face, but it was gone too quickly for Spencer to make heads or tail of what it meant. "Sure," Brendon said. "Whatever. I just wanted to make sure you actually took it home, that's all. I've seen that look in your eyes before, you know. You want it."
"Yeah," Spencer said, swallowing.
Brendon smiled lopsidedly and went back downstairs.
Spencer shut his eyes for a moment, and tried to remember how to breathe.
"Are we still going out for dinner tonight?" Brendon asked, as Spencer tried to get the large dragon shaped package into the trunk of the car.
Spencer cleared his throat. "Yeah," he said. He'd booked a table at a place Becca had recommended. A last night blow out. A date by any other name. He couldn't look at Brendon. "Have you bought everything you wanted to? We should go home and get ready to go soon."
Brendon nodded. "I'm all done. Christmas is fixed up." He elbowed Spencer. It was already pretty dark. "Do you want to go down to the beach first? See the ocean one last time?"
For some weird, fucked up reason, Spencer felt breathless. "Yeah," he said, concentrating on the dragon package. "You drive."
"Awesome," Brendon said and leaned in to kiss Spencer on the cheek.
It took them a while to get down to the beach; while the snow had mostly melted, there was still slush on a lot of the tiny lanes, and the busier roads were moving a little slower than usual. Brendon turned the stereo up loud, the radio signal dipping in and out as he sang along with an old Meatloaf song. The choice of radio stations got less and less, the closer to the beach they got.
"Come on," Brendon said. "Don't pretend you don't love the 'Loaf. Sing it, bro."
"You're such a fucking ass," Spencer said, rolling his eyes, but he turned the volume up even louder and sang I would do anything for love, but I won't do that, just as loud as Brendon was.
Brendon laughed and then launched into the girl part, belting out Will you raise me up? Will you help me down? "We should cover the 'Loaf. Next tour."
"Sure," Spencer agreed, hoping that Brendon would forget by the time it came to talking about covers, and then they both launched into I can do that and Brendon almost missed the turn-off to the beach.
It was dark by the time they got to the parking lot and, unsurprisingly, theirs was the only car there. The moon provided the only light, silvery and strangely luminescent in the darkness.
"Come on," Brendon said, as the noise of the engine faded to nothing. "Let's go see the ocean."
"This is crazy," Spencer told him, taking off his seatbelt and opening the door. "It's freezing."
"Your face is crazy," Brendon said, jumping out of the car. He ducked back inside just to grin at Spencer. "Come on, it's an adventure."
"It's freezing," Spencer complained, climbing out and closing the door behind him. The wind coming off the ocean was like fucking ice hitting his skin. "Oh, fuck."
"It's good for you," Brendon told him, grabbing Spencer's gloved hand in his. "Come on, race you there."
"The snow," Spencer said, but Brendon was already dragging him down towards the beach, where the snow stood cold and pale against the rocks, and the waves rolled relentlessly against the sand. It was spooky, and kind of beautiful, and so cold it made Spencer's bones ache. "Come here," he said, as Brendon tugged him over the sand to the water's edge.
Brendon just laughed. "Come here instead," he said, drawing Spencer in.
Spencer let himself be tugged closer. "It's so cold," he said, because otherwise he was just going to stare at Brendon in the moonlight, and want more than he thought he could have.
"Let me warm you up," Brendon said, waggling his eyebrows, and then Brendon was cupping Spencer's face in his gloved hands, and he was kissing him.
Spencer whined helplessly against Brendon's mouth, and kissed him back. All he could think was last night, last night, last night. Tomorrow they'd be going home and Spencer didn't know if they'd ever get to do this again. He just—he wanted this so much, but they had a band together. This was their career, and their financial stability, and their work. Having a vacation fling was one thing, but it wasn't like they didn't both know what it was like to work in an environment where things weren't going right. They both knew what it was like to lose friends over their band, and Spencer wasn't sure he could cope with losing Brendon too. He didn't know whether he'd rather have Brendon as just a friend, rather than risk screwing it all up and going all out for a relationship that didn't work and fucked everything up. All he did know was that he was in love with him; anything further down the line just felt like a shadowy blur, the unknown. He kissed Brendon back, the sound of the waves in his ears, and tried to ignore everything else just for one more night.
"Fuck, it's freezing," Brendon said, burrowing his hands under Spencer's coat. "My dick is going to freeze up and drop off."
"This was your idea," Spencer pointed out, but he wrapped his arms around Brendon's shoulders anyway, drawing him in to a tight hug.
If he could just figure out a way of remembering the way Brendon smelled right now.
"I'm very attached to my dick," Brendon told him. "And right now it's barely a dick at all, it's so cold."
"That's your way of saying we should go back home, right?"
"Got it in one," Brendon said. He looked out to sea. "This place is really fucking beautiful, Spence."
"Yeah," Spencer agreed.
"I'm really glad we came," Brendon went on. "And hey, we made a good vacation pretty great by adding in all of the sex, right?"
"Pretty great, yeah," Spencer echoed, kind of weakly. He swallowed. "We should get going. We need to get ready, and I don't know how long it's going to take us to get to this place Becca suggested."
"Oh, sure," Brendon said. He looked a little awkward in the moonlight.
Spencer managed a smile, and slid his hand into Brendon's. "Come on," he said. "We don't want to be late for the reservation."
"No," Brendon said, and they set off back to the car, turning around on the slope up to the parking lot to take one last look.
"It's beautiful here," Spencer said softly, and next to him, Brendon nodded and squeezed Spencer's hand.
The place Becca had recommended for their date was about forty-five minutes' drive inland. It was all down main roads, so they didn't have to be worried about the fact that there was a distinct possibility that snow looked imminent, or that they were going to get trapped driving down tiny windy country lanes and miss their flights tomorrow. Instead, they spent the journey rocking out to the local radio station, which mostly seemed to play nineties Britpop. Not that either of them was calling this a date out loud, but Spencer was, in his head. He thought that he could pretend for one more day that this was real, and then he'd figure out a way to make everything right later.
"This place is called The Ship," Brendon pointed out as Spencer parked up in the parking lot by the side of the restaurant.
"Yes," Spencer said.
"We're kind of a long way from the ocean, dude. You know, for this to be called The Ship."
"Maybe it's a rowboat with delusions of grandeur," Spencer suggested. "Maybe it has oceanic delusions."
"Don't we all," Brendon said nonsensically, and then he leaned over and kissed Spencer on the corner of his mouth. "Come on."
The Ship was an Indian restaurant with the lowest ceilings Spencer could remember seeing. Even he had to duck his head to avoid the exposed beams, and he wasn't exactly the tallest dude to ever tall. Still, they had a table in the corner, with a heavy wine-colored tablecloth and complimentary poppodoms and pickles already lined up for them.
"I'll bring you a carafe of water," the waiter said. "Can I get you any drinks?"
Spencer ran his finger down the wine list. "Do you want wine?" he asked. Brendon made a face, and Spencer grinned. "Okay, beer it is. I want, wow, I want Cobra beer."
"Me too," Brendon said, and when the waiter asked them whether they wanted small or large, both of them went large without any hesitation.
Under the table, Brendon curled his foot around Spencer's, all without taking his eyes off the menu.
Spencer swallowed, his mouth suddenly dry, and fumbled the drink menu as he passed it back to the waiter.
Brendon shot him a look, and smiled kind of hesitantly, as if Spencer was going to say that it wasn't okay. Spencer nudged his foot back against Brendon's under the table instead, and Brendon started to blush, his cheeks going pink. He ducked his gaze as the waiter went away, and Spencer leaned over and covered Brendon's hand with his own.
"All of this is on me, okay?" he said. "My treat."
"You don't have to do that."
"I know." Spencer swallowed, looking back down at his menu. He figured if he could focus on the biryanis and the baltis then he wouldn't blurt out something stupid, like I love you. "What do you think you're going to pick?"
"I don't know," Brendon said, and Spencer wondered if the menu was as much of a blur to Brendon as it was to him. It didn't matter how much he looked at it, it all seemed to blur into one. He didn't care what he ordered. He wasn't even hungry. He curled his fingers into Brendon's instead, and Brendon looked at him, something that Spencer desperately wanted to be hope flaring in his eyes.
Spencer swallowed. "I think I'm going to get—" he looked down the menu before picking out the first thing he focused on, "king prawn dopiaza. Why don't they just call it shrimp?"
"Don't know," Brendon said. "I'm going to have the—" he seemed to be employing the same meal picking routine as Spencer, "—the lamb jalfrezi. With rice. And the naan with the coconut. And let's share one of these appetizers for two." He pointed at the menu with his finger, and Spencer leaned in to take a closer look at what he was choosing. He was close enough that he could feel Brendon's breath against his ear.
He let out a breath. "You smell nice," he said, sitting back up. He glanced at Brendon again, at the pink flush slowly spreading across his cheeks.
"Yeah, well," Brendon said. "So do you."
This was so stupid. They were so stupid. Spencer had all of these feelings, and they were all trapped up inside of him and he couldn't let them out. He couldn't tell Brendon, because this whole vacation seemed like it was founded on a spider's web of lines they were trying to balance on. They'd been through a band split twice; Spencer suspected that they were both equally nervous of making it through a third. If this wasn't going to be a long-term, pretty-much-forever kind of a thing, then maybe it wasn't worth risking everything over. They were living together, and working together, and maybe adding sleeping together to the mix would inevitably end in a bad place. Spencer wanted this to be so much more than the fling it currently was, but if Brendon was even vaguely casual about any potential future relationship, then Spencer was going to have to think carefully about whether he could agree to it.
He almost rolled his eyes. Who was he kidding? There was no way he'd turn down whatever Brendon offered him, whatever form it took. Whether they emerged unscathed at the other end of it, that was the question. And it wasn't outside of the realm of possibility that Brendon wouldn't want anything else to happen between them after their vacation was over.
"Two large Cobras?" the waiter asked, hovering by the table with a napkin over one arm and a tray containing two sweating bottles of beer in his hand.
"Got it in one," Brendon said with an awkward attempt at a laugh. He closed his menu, and Spencer echoed him, waiting for their order to be taken.
Afterwards, when the waiter had gone and they were left alone with just their two beers and the tray of poppodoms between them, Spencer caught Brendon's eye.
"It's been a pretty awesome vacation, hasn't it?"
"Yeah," Brendon said. He tucked his hand into Spencer's elbow, awkward yet strangely intimate, and Spencer found his mouth going dry as Brendon shifted a little closer. "The best."
"And Wales is amazing," Spencer added. He sounded so stupid. He just couldn't think of anything sensible to say. "The scenery—"
"I know," Brendon said, cutting him off. "Right?"
They looked at each other, and back down at the table. Spencer couldn't remember ever really feeling at a loss for words around Brendon; it was weird, and not in a good way. Everything he thought of saying, it all felt like I love you against his tongue.
"I wanted to eat everything on the menu," Brendon went on, laughing the kind of awkward laugh Spencer hadn't heard directed towards him since before the last split, when Brendon hadn't been as certain that Spencer was going to leave with him as Spencer had been.
"Me too." It was so fucking awkward, and Spencer couldn't figure out why. He and Brendon had whiled away years of their lives just wasting time and talking, and they'd never run short of conversation before. It wasn't something that they did.
Brendon cleared his throat. "If I just came out and told you how much I wanted to fuck you right now, would that ruin the conversation?"
"It'd start it, I think," Spencer said. He covered Brendon's hand with his own. His heart felt like it was trapped in his throat. "I'm pretty sure you should tell me exactly what you're thinking, though."
Brendon colored, but then he grinned, and laughed. "All of it?" he asked.
"All of it," Spencer said, leaning back so that their waiter could put the large plate of appetizers down on the table between them. Spencer recognized the onion bhajis, but not the weirdly yellow dipping sauce next to them. He checked the menu again; the rest of the plate was supposed to be lamb samosas, chicken pakoras, and alootikki. He didn't bother trying to match up what he was picking up with the menu, for once, picking at random and dipping whatever he'd picked up into one of the bowls of dipping sauces. It tasted amazing, but for once in his life, Spencer wasn't that interested in food.
"This one is good," Brendon said, holding out half of a samosa. He dipped it in the weirdly sweet yellow sauce, and held it out again. "Try it."
Spencer leaned in and took a bite, right out of Brendon's fingers.
"Nice," he said, chewing. He felt strangely breathless, ducking his head so that he could wipe his mouth and clear his head, just for a second.
"What about that one you just had?" Brendon prompted. "Was that good?"
"The best," Spencer said, trying to remember what it was he'd just eaten. He picked up another one at random, dipping it in the bowl of sweet mango sauce and holding it up. He cupped his hand underneath it to catch the drips. One ran down his thumb. "Try it."
Brendon leaned in and licked at Spencer's thumb.
Spencer's breath caught in his throat.
"Yeah," Brendon said softly, "the best."
Spencer closed his eyes. I'm so fucked, he thought. I'm so fucked.
They barely finished the appetizers, picking one piece up after another and then discarding it after a bite. It was all really good, but Spencer found himself more interested in looking at Brendon than he was in eating. Brendon seemed to be the same at least, and when the waiter came to clear their plates away, they were both quick to say how good it tasted, despite how much was still left on the tray.
Spencer felt hot all over. "I've going to go find the bathroom," he said. "Be back in a minute." As he stood up, he touched at Brendon's shoulder with his palm, managing half a smile. He felt so unsure of himself all of a sudden. This whole week he'd felt like he wasn't in control of himself, and Spencer normally hated that feeling. He wasn't actually all that good at change, if he was honest with himself, so part of the reason he felt so weird was probably because this whole week he'd liked the way things had panned out, the way things had always been so uncertain and new and exciting.
In the bathroom, he splashed water on his face and stared at his reflection in the mirror. He barely recognized himself; he looked punch drunk and like he'd fallen in love with his best friend.
He looked kind of screwed.
He dried his face on a paper towel, and dropped it in the trash can before heading back into the restaurant.
Their food had arrived by the time he got back to the table. Brendon was dipping his naan bread into his curry sauce, scooping it up quick to avoid getting it down his shirt. When Spencer sat down, Brendon leaned over and pressed a kiss to the corner of Spencer's mouth, sweet and spicy.
"Tastes good," he said, and Brendon dropped his naan back down onto his plate so he could lean in for another kiss.
Spencer didn't give a fuck who saw them together. He kissed him like this was their last night, their last time, their last meal together. He curled his hands into Brendon's hair and kissed him again, over and over.
"Should we go?" he asked, breathless, after a minute. He hadn't even started his main course.
"Yeah," Brendon said. He was already fumbling in his pocket for his wallet. "Let's just pay the bill and go."
They didn't manage to leave as easily as all that; the manager insisted that they take their food with them, convinced that they were being made to leave against their will due to some family emergency or such. They had to wait while he packaged their food up in foil take out containers, tucking in a paper bag with their poppodoms in down the side of the bag.
Brendon slid his hand into Spencer's, and leaned his head against Spencer's shoulder as Spencer batted Brendon's wallet away. He was going to pay for this, not Brendon. Even if they'd only managed to eat half of a plate of appetizers, and had completely failed at the main course, this was his treat.
The restaurant manager didn't bat an eyelid, but he did put in a handful of business cards into the bag. "For your friends," he said. "Tell them about The Ship."
"Sure," Brendon said.
Spencer nodded too, even though he wasn't that sure his L.A. friends would find that much use for a Welsh Indian restaurant business card.
"It was really great," Brendon reiterated. "We just have to—" He glanced at Spencer. "We have to go."
"Enjoy the food," the manager said. "Tell your friends!"
"We will," Brendon said, and then they were outside in the freezing parking lot, frost on the ground, and their breath freezing in front of them.
"Kiss me," Spencer said breathlessly. Brendon was shivering already, and tugging Spencer towards the car. Spencer let himself be tugged, because Brendon was tangling his hands in Spencer's coat lapels and leaning in to be kissed, even as he walked Spencer backwards towards the car.
"Sorry about the meal," Brendon apologized, in between kisses. Spencer fumbled with the bag of food, putting it on the roof of the car as he backed Brendon into the door, cupping Brendon's cheek in his hand. "I know you wanted us to eat out."
"We can eat in instead," Spencer told him, kissing him again. Brendon still tasted sweet and kind of spicy, and it made him want to lick at Brendon's lips until he could make himself remember how he tasted.
"Awesome idea," Brendon said. "Let's go."
"In a minute," Spencer said. He licked at Brendon's lips.
"I'm freezing to death," Brendon pointed out, "and when we get home we can have sex."
Spencer pulled away. "Dude," he said. "Why are you cockblocking us? Get in the car, there's sex to be had."
"You're such a dork," Brendon told him affectionately, punching Spencer in the arm.
"Get in the car," Spencer said, grabbing the bag of food so they didn't drive off and leave it on the roof. "Come the fuck on."
Brendon grinned, and pulled open the car door.
"So, I've been thinking," Brendon said from half up the stairs. He was unzipping his coat and tugging at his sweater all at the same time, getting caught up in all of his zippers and buttons. Spencer fumbled with his shoelaces, hisfingers numb with cold. Unpicking the knots, he loosened the laces enough that he could kick his boots off. He started undoing his jeans without bothering to take off his coat.
"What?" he said breathlessly.
"I want to see your face when I fuck you," Brendon said.
Spencer fell over his feet, and only stopped himself from making an embarrassing faceplant on the hall floor by grabbing at the pinecone-shaped knob at the end of the bannister with his other hand.
"Kinky," Brendon said.
"Shut up," Spencer said. His face burned. "Can we—" he said. "I'd be on my back?"
"Yeah," Brendon said. He paused for a moment, and then tugged his shirt over his head. "Is that—can we?"
"Yeah," Spencer breathed and shrugged off his jeans. He was already hard; there was a tiny damp patch on the front of his underwear. He pulled down his underwear, cupping his dick in his hand and giving it an experimental jerk.
"Get naked," Brendon told him, trying to climb the stairs and take his jeans off, all at the same time.
Spencer hopped on one foot, trying to get his sock off, and then hopped on to his other foot. He felt weird, jumping around with his dick out, but when he looked up, Brendon was watching him with heat in his eyes.
"Come on," Brendon said, naked on the stairs, and Spencer wanted, oh fuck, he wanted.
He pulled off his shirt and followed Brendon up the stairs, catching him in the tiny hallway and pushing him back against the wall, hand curving over Brendon's ass.
Brendon whined, going up onto his toes so that Spencer had a better angle, and Spencer fingered Brendon's ass, mouth pressed to Brendon's jaw.
"Oh, fuck, yes," Brendon gasped, head tipping back. "Yes, you're so fucking good at this."
Spencer rubbed his fingertip over Brendon's hole. His brain was screaming last time, last time at him, over and over. He wanted to do everything, stay up all night, fuck Brendon and have him fuck him back. He wanted to taste him everywhere. He dragged his mouth down Brendon's throat, tilting Brendon's chin up so he could get a better angle.
"Don't stop," Brendon managed, one hand sliding into Spencer's hair, the other scrabbling for purchase against the flowered wallpaper.
Never, Spencer thought, and he let Brendon cup his face in his hands, and draw Spencer in for a kiss.
"Come on," Brendon said after a while, taking Spencer's hand. "I want to do this on a bed, and not in a hallway."
Spencer swallowed. "Yeah," he said and followed Brendon into the bedroom.
Brendon pulled the comforter back, and swept their pajamas down and onto the floor. He kissed Spencer's cheek. "Lie down."
"On my back?"
"If you want to," Brendon said, going around to the other side of the bed to get the condoms and the lotion out of the nightstand drawer.
Spencer nodded and fixed the pillows before lying down on the bed. He saved one to go under his hips. He'd never tried this before, but he figured that this was kind of how it was supposed to go. He wrapped his fist around his dick for a moment as he got himself comfortable.
"Hot," Brendon said, and he grinned before kneeling on the bed next to Spencer, and leaning in to kiss him. Spencer tugged Brendon down even closer and kissed him again, deeper this time, so that Brendon groaned into Spencer's mouth and Spencer couldn't breathe.
Then Brendon wrapped his hand around Spencer's hand, around Spencer's dick, and his palm was slippery with lotion. The lube here was really weird, or at least the brand they bought was. It was a lot more like lotion than it was like gel, which was the kind Spencer had recently been using at home. This one was slippery and wet and smelled vaguely like cucumber, under the chemicals. He was pretty sure it wasn't supposed to smell like a salad vegetable.
Spencer rocked his hips up into Brendon's fist and whined, unable to help himself.
"You like that?" Brendon asked.
Spencer nodded, in between kissing Brendon again, and then Brendon slid his hand lower, sliding down over Spencer's balls and squeezing. That was—it felt amazing. Spencer felt amazing. He felt like he was on fire, and they hadn't even started properly yet. This was just the build-up.
"Legs apart," Brendon said, ghosting a kiss over Spencer's cheek, and shifting so that he was kneeling over Spencer. He slid his hand down between Spencer's legs, fingers stroking over Spencer's hole, and this was so sexy, and so intimate, and Spencer couldn't—he just couldn't.
"Please," he begged. "Please."
Brendon pressed the tip of his finger inside of Spencer, and then the tip of a second finger. Spencer whined again, desperate for more. He didn't care about being ready, or being prepared. None of it mattered. The only thing that mattered was this, was Brendon, was tonight.
"Fuck me," he gasped, reaching out to circle Brendon's wrist with his hand. "Please, I'm ready, do it."
"Fuck, are you sure?" Brendon's dick was so fucking hard, and it was so pretty.
There was an actual physical sense of loss when Brendon stopped fingering Spencer open, and concentrated on rolling the condom over his erection and reaching for the lotion.
"Let me," Spencer said, holding his hand out.
Brendon squeezed some out onto Spencer's palm, and Spencer wrapped his hand around Brendon's dick, making sure he was slick all the way down.
"Ready?" Brendon asked breathlessly.
"Yeah," Spencer said and took a deep breath as he felt the slick tip of Brendon's dick press against his ass.
"Oh, fuck," Brendon groaned, pushing inside of Spencer on one long, loud exhale. "Fuck, Spencer."
"More," Spencer begged, shifting on the sheets to get a better angle. They were new to this, both of them, and it was hard to get the perfect angle, especially when he couldn't help but shift so that he could meet Brendon's mouth in a desperate, messy kiss. His brain was shouting want, want, want, need over and over again and there was nothing else inside of him, nothing except how he felt at this moment—in love, and full, and like nothing he'd ever done before in his life could have prepared him for this moment.
He jerked his own dick, and his muscles were starting to ache from the way he was twisting up to meet Brendon's kiss with his own, but he couldn't care. He didn't want to think about anything after tonight.
"I'm inside you," Brendon said, sounding vaguely like this was something wondrous and new, and not something they'd done over and over this vacation. It was only the position that they hadn't done before. It was only this—getting to see each other's faces—that was new.
"Fuck me," Spencer begged, fingertips pressing into Brendon's skin. They might bruise, later, but Brendon didn't tell him to stop. He was holding onto Spencer just as tight.
Brendon fucked into him, slow and hard, and Spencer cried out, desperate for more. His orgasm was already starting to curl in his belly, sweat beading on his forehead as Brendon caught Spencer's bottom lip in his teeth.
He thought, I love you, and Brendon's fingers tightened around his wrist. Spencer jerked himself off, the time for conversation long gone. He couldn't remember words, let alone form them into sentences. He just wanted more, always more, and Brendon caught his mouth in a kiss, swallowing Spencer's words whole, giving him what he wanted with every rock of his hips. It was so fucking desperate, and so hot, and he knew that it was their last time, that this was their last night, and it just made him want to hold on tighter.
It made him want to never let go.
"Gonna come," Spencer managed, in between kisses, a thread of saliva joining their mouths together. It was messy and wet and Spencer just—he just couldn't. He tried to hold off, to make it last longer, but he couldn't, and he came.
His come hit Brendon's stomach in stripes, and Spencer watched in desperation as Brendon's stomach contracted as he tipped his head, his muscles clenching as he tried to hold off from coming just that little bit longer.
Spencer couldn't breathe. He couldn't even think. He tried to catch his breath, hot and sweaty and unable to process any thought at all that wasn't Brendon. "Come," he begged, hands on Brendon's hips, and Brendon leaned into him and kissed him, hard, his dick pulsing as he started to come.
Afterwards, when Brendon had collapsed down beside him, his breathing ragged, Spencer snuck out of the bed and into the bathroom, coming back out with a damp washcloth.
"You can use mine in the morning," he said, rolling the condom off Brendon's dick messily, and trying to tie it in a knot. His hands were shaking, so he dumped it in the trash as it was, and leaned in to wipe Brendon's dick with the face cloth. Then he knelt a little closer, and pressed his tongue to Brendon's slit; Brendon whimpered, way too sensitive, and Spencer shifted so that he could meet Brendon's eyes. It was as close to do you want me to stop? as he could get.
"Don't stop," Brendon said, his hands catching in Spencer's hair. Spencer couldn't stop trembling, and he didn't know whether it was from the force of his orgasm, or the knowledge that this was it, this was the end. He took the head of Brendon's dick in his mouth, conscious of the way Brendon was quivering beneath him, oversensitive and needy, his hands pulling at Spencer's hair, drawing him even closer.
Spencer went as easily as he could, taking in as much of Brendon as he could manage, and Brendon whimpered, his hands stroking at Spencer's shoulders and his back and his neck. It was just—it was too close, and not close enough, and everything in his head was a total fucking mess.
He sat back, shifting on his heels so that he could pull the blankets up over them as he curled into Brendon's side, his mouth pressed to the corner of Brendon's mouth.
"You taste like my dick," Brendon said, and Spencer laughed, sliding an arm around Brendon's waist. For a moment the tension was gone, and it was just the two of them, just like always, and then Brendon shifted so that he could wrap his arms around Spencer's shoulders and touch his mouth to Spencer's. He drew Spencer into a tight hug, and hid his face in Spencer's neck. "What happens in Vegas, stays in Vegas," he said softly, and Spencer wanted to cry. He wanted to fucking break down, and hold on, and never let go - all three at the same time - and for everything to turn out the way he really fucking needed it to in his head.
He squeezed his eyes shut and hugged Brendon even tighter, like it was just the two of them in the world and nobody else, like they had a future, and a relationship, and this wasn't their last night together.
"Yeah," he managed after a minute, but his grip on Brendon didn't loosen, and neither did Brendon's grip on him.
Don't fall asleep, he told himself. Just stay awake. Don't fall asleep, don't fall asleep, don't—