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fics_by_mapleLike Vines and Noodle Salad
Part 4
Part 3
~^~
The following day, he was lingering on his front steps contemplating going next door to talk to Spencer or Ryan, when instead, they came out. They were headed towards the van but exchanged pointed looks when they saw him and walked over.
"Hey." Spencer was in work scrubs, mommy and baby farm animals print, while Ryan had a heavy looking messenger bag on his shoulder and a few more books in hand.
"Hey guys. Heading out?" Obvious, Walker.
Ryan gave him a creepily cheerful smile. "Work. Library." He gestured respectively.
Spencer kneeled down to join Jon petting Dylan who was sleeping under a large vining plant. "How's he been doing?"
"He's, um. Fine? Sleeps a lot. You know. Cat."
"Mmm," Spencer nodded, smirking at the obvious awkwardness. Ryan was still smiling, his mouth looking a little cracked, and he was pretty sure Spencer was examining Dylan more than he was petting him.
He huffed and glanced over his shoulder. "Ryan."
"Okay," he snapped, his long fingers gripping at his books. "So, the thing is, Brendon's stupid."
"Ryan!"
Jon was confused and already irritated and the feeling must have shown on his face by the way Ryan flinched.
"Kidding. He's not stupid. But, he might have taken something I said once seriously, about not messing around with guys when you've been drinking. Plus which, you know how he was raised, right?" Jon nodded, glancing at Spencer who resolutely kept his attention on the cat. "You've seen Spencer's dog chase her tail?" Ryan asked.
"Uh?" And people thought Jon was random.
"Brendon's like that sometimes," Ryan continued. "He really tries to do something right, but then he gets caught up on the 'doing it' part and kind of forgets what the point is."
"Okay." Jon stood up and tilted his head. "So you're telling me Brendon's over-thinking things? He's talked to you about us then?"
Spencer huffed a quiet laugh.
"Well, yeah," Ryan answered.
"But we didn't even – Brendon didn't – he's got nothing to feel bad about. I wouldn't be like that."
"I know. He knows that, now, too. But he probably feels dumb. Oh, and he got knocked out in a bar! He's embarrassed, Jon. You should go find him. I can't even believe you're actually still here."
~^~
Brendon hadn't done any deliveries for Patrick that day, Jon found out. Gerard was the next person he thought of, who he found smoking outside of his studio, restlessly kicking at the drain grate.
"Jon, hey!" It was a surprise to be greeted with a hug but he wasn't one to turn down hugs, especially ones given with such zeal. "How is Brendon?" He glanced behind Jon like he'd just realized Brendon wasn't with him. "Where is Brendon? Is he okay?"
"Oh. So he's not here then?" Jon wondered if his voice sounded as sad to Gerard as it did to himself.
"No, he's not. Shit! What happened? He was all fuckin' twittery about you before that shit went down the other night. Which, my god. You should have seen you and Frank charging into that fight. Motherfuck, that was hot."
Jon crossed his arms and laughed off the comment. Frank may have charged. "I was only trying to get to Brendon." He rotated his ankle, absent-mindedly flapping one flip-flop against his heel.
"Sure." Gerard mercifully seemed to sense Jon's discomfort and changed the subject. "Weekend tourists, you know." He jerked his thumb at the front door. "Been in there for-fucking-ever. I don't know if they plan on buying or what but I had to smoke. I hear it's bad for business to smoke around the customers," he scoffed.
"Right." Jon put his hands in his pockets and watched Gerard toe at the slat of the metal grate. "Where's Frank?"
"Inside, probably trying to sell my shit for twice its price."
Jon laughed. "So things are all right with him here?"
Gerard exhaled to the side, his mouth quirked into a faint grin. "Yeah."
Something in the degree of the positive affirmation in Gerard's voice struck Jon.
"Oh?" Jon asked.
Gerard kept his eyes down and scratched at his bottom lip with his thumb.
"Oh, really?" Jon hadn't even meant to inquire after that but then again, he couldn't get Brendon out of his head after only a week; if Gerard had been clinging to something, even to nothing, with Frank for as long as he'd implied, then no wonder.
"Yeah," Gerard shrugged and now he was blushing. "Oh, my god. Finally – I can't even tell you how - yeah!" He sounded a little surprised by his own announcement.
~^~
Jon nearly passed the internet café but Ray waved through the window at him with such enthusiasm that he felt compelled to go in and say hi.
"Toro! Nice to …" Jon quieted at the look of intensity on Ray's face as he came around the counter, glancing over his shoulder as he approached.
"Dude, I was hoping someone was gonna come by." Ray's voice was low and quiet. "He's been here forever."
"Brendon? He's here?"
"Yeah. I haven't asked but. I mean, I saw what happened at Hall's, but I thought you... Well whatever, I didn't know if I should call someone. I thought maybe Ryan or Greta, but seeing as you're here."
"Thanks, yeah. He's okay?"
"Oh, fuck yeah. Actually, he worked out a bug I had in the server networking the games together. I just haven't had time to deal with it so I owe him big. But I kinda figured he wouldn't be hiding out here if something wasn't wrong so I just left him to it."
Jon was already following to where Ray had indicated. There were a few people at various computers but the place was largely quiet. Brendon sat on an old leather sofa, playing Halo 3. In spite of the apprehension in Jon's belly, he had a sense of ease just from seeing him.
He sat right next to Brendon, watching on the big flatscreen as he killed Flood. Neither said a thing until Jon warned, "Look out for the! –shit. Too bad."
Brendon paused the game then, resting the controller in his lap.
Jon could see the purpling bruise on his temple, though it was largely hidden by the arm of his red glasses. Jon reached out and touched Brendon's hair just above his ear as if his fingers could somehow sooth the hurt there. It didn't really occur to him until he'd done it that the touch might be too forward if Brendon was upset about things between them, but Brendon's shoulders softened and he let out a breath. He angled into Jon's touch the slightest bit and Jon opened his hand, palming the back of his head briefly. Taking heed of the other customers in the room, he put his hand down, stroking Brendon's arm as he did. "Hey."
"Hi."
Brendon worked his lips with agitation and dug his thumbnails into the rubber edge of the game controller.
Jon didn't want to push him or make him feel weird. He hated when other people made him feel weird and if Brendon was having second thoughts about 'them,' then maybe Jon needed more time to convince him. He just didn't want to be weird. "Hey, you wanna go get ICEEs?"
Brendon looked directly at Jon, half of his face looking slightly pinched and then he then smiled, the really pretty one that softened his eyes and showed all his teeth. "You are so fantastically random sometimes, Jon Walker."
"I know," Jon sighed. "It's not actually so random in my head." Or quite so weird.
~^~
The Circle K had a shiny new ICEE machine that now carried three flavors, the addition of blueberry to Coke and cherry had their mouths bright blue by the time they climbed the back steps to Brendon and Greta's attic apartment.
"Okay, here it is…" Brendon pushed the door open and with the stately open-palmed gesture of a butler. "Sir."
Jon bowed his head, "Sir," and walked in.
The walls were lined with unmatched shelves full of baskets and cubbies, and the vibrant colors in the room reminded Jon of Kindergarten.
"Kinda makes me want some Play Doh," he observed.
Brendon laughed quietly, emptying change from his pocket and dropping the quarters into a glass jar. Jon watched Brendon's ass as he bent forward to push open a window and glanced away when he switched on a box fan. He nearly gave himself a brain-freeze from gulping too fast when Brendon tugged his t-shirt off. The action was obviously just a practical matter judging by the perspiration circles under Brendon's arms, but Jon felt himself get a little warmer in spite of the icy headache.
"I can give you the grand tour," Brendon said. He held his shirt and cup in one hand while the other wrapped around Jon's bicep. Standing this close, he could feel Brendon emanating heat. One pale-chested, shirtless virgin had no business being that hot.
"Please do," Jon choked.
"Okay. So, we are currently in the foyer, as you can see," he said, sweeping his arms in a grand gesture.
"I can."
Brendon walked them approximately five steps forward. "This is the kitchen." There was a small sink and the complete lack of stove was compensated with a toaster oven, electric kettle and a George Foreman grill all lined up on the counter.
"I admire your taste in grills. I used to have one."
"Thank you! You know, I didn't want anything flashy or ostentatious, so, naturally."
"Naturally."
"And this is the living room." Greta's bed doubled as the couch. "Media center." Greta's laptop. "And the bathroom is up the stairs and to the right." The door to the bathroom was, in fact, about four feet away.
"Very nice. I like the open floor plan."
Brendon smiled, biting his lip, and slipped his hand from Jon's arm down to clasp his hand. He tilted his head to the side as if asking a question but said nothing. Every touch of Brendon's fingertips against Jon's skin felt poignant but also like maybe Jon wasn't supposed to notice. He sometimes noticed what he was meant to ignore and likewise overlooked important things. … He really did not want to miss anything important now.
"I can show you the guest house," Brendon offered, keeping up the game. "It's not as grand as the main house, of course."
"I'll bet it's even better than Ryan Atwood's."
"Totally. Dude, the O.C. hasn't got a thing on Bisbee!"
Brendon led them through a second door at the far end of the room, pausing long enough to say, "You know, I've never had a boy in my room before," batting his eyelashes.
"Lucky for you, I'm a gentleman."
Brendon squeezed his hand.
His half of the attic was actually more of a quarter. A single mattress was on the floor in the corner against the wall, but the bed was made. He had bookshelf with plastic bins that held his clothes in lieu of a dresser while a few books, CDs, and DVD's were prominently displayed. Not as sign of orderliness he didn't think, Jon had known obsessives before, but Brendon's object placement looked more like a sign of the value he placed on his few possessions.
Brendon threw his shirt at a laundry pile on the floor, missed it, and put his ICEE cup down, still holding Jon's hand. "Um, so, Greta's gonna be working for a few more hours."
"Yeah?" Jon took a final sip and set his cup next to Brendon's.
"Your mouth is all blue," Brendon giggled.
"So is yours."
Brendon licked his lips as he looked at Jon's and they moved a fraction closer to each other.
"Do you think we could maybe…?" Brendon's voice got quieter, deeper and they shifted closer. "Skip the part where I explain why I had a tiny freak out and apologize and just go back to where we were before you saw me get knocked out like a total pussy and-"
"Hey, no." Jon cut him off. He removed Brendon's glasses and put a hand over the back of Brendon's head to angle him down to kiss the bruise on his brow bone.
He set the glasses aside and then moved in closely. "We can skip that part. And we can take it slow," Jon breathed the words against Brendon's mouth.
"Slow," he agreed, pressing his full bottom lip to Jon's upper. The kiss was desperately tender and soft. For all that he began to sweat and harden in the complete lack of ventilation, he pulled Brendon closer anyway.
~^~
They paused long enough to kick off their shoes and get to their knees on Brendon's mattress, but Jon couldn't remember once breaking their kiss.
Their tongues were still cold and syrup sweet from the ICEEs and his hands roamed Brendon's naked back and shoulders, fingers running along the groove of every rib and vertebrate.
"Yeah," he murmured when he felt Brendon lifting the hem of his t-shirt. He wanted to get the thing off, the room was stifling, although he was sure Brendon's chest against his would make it hotter.
It did. Jon sat back before lying down and Brendon followed, sprawling on top of him.
Brendon hovered for a moment, running one hand over Jon's chest with a quiet laugh. "Gotta say, Jon Walker, I think I expected you to be more … furry." He bent his head and slowly kissed the expanse of skin between Jon's nipples.
"Wha?" Jon looked down him and then laughed as up at the ceiling. "Oh. Yeah, not much chest hair, I kn-know." He stammered as Brendon tongued over one nipple and then the other. Jon put a hand gently on Brendon's head, arching slightly, letting him know the action was definitely, definitely appreciated.
He was hurting, actually aching with how hard he was so that when Brendon lay over him, pressing down, he moaned his relief much louder into the quiet of the room than he'd intended. It was a bit embarrassing and he felt tension creep across Brendon's back.
"Sorry," Jon whispered. "Feels good."
"Oh. Good." Brendon relaxed a bit, getting heavier on top of him, fingers digging a little into Jon's ribs. "I just want – um, I don't know-" Brendon made a frustrated little grunt, grinding against him as if Jon needed some demonstration as to how hard he was.
Jon had promised 'slow' and he'd meant it, but he realized it wasn't being fair to put all forward momentum of this on Brendon alone. He rolled them over and found himself nestled between Brendon's parted thighs. He hooked one calf over the back of Jon's and arched up.
"This, yes. Ah."
Brendon was falling apart underneath him and Jon had to decide whether he was going to put him back together or finish unraveling him. He made another desperate mewling, "Jon?" while looking up with a plea in his eyes.
And that was all it took; Jon never had been able to resist the temptation of tugging on a loose thread.
Jon controlled the tempo for as long as he could with wet, breathless kisses, exploring Brendon's lightly stubbled neck until Brendon slid his hand down between them, finding the hard ridged line of Jon's erection and squeezed. Jon pressed into his palm and when Brendon's fingers shifted to the button, Jon leaned up, meeting Brendon's eyes and trying to slow his breathing.
"More naked?" Brendon voiced a demand rather than an inquiry, pushing at Jon's jeans.
"Yeah. Okay, yeah. More."
"Not to …" Brendon faltered, looking in his eyes.
"No, no. Just to …"
"Yeah."
"Ah, shit, yes," Jon hissed when his fly opened.
Jon shifted away as they pushed their jeans off, Brendon needing to tug his tight pants over his heels. They laughed quietly together, trading kisses while maneuvering around knees and elbows. The cotton boxer-briefs they sported didn't last long either. Jon's modest whites were a flimsy barrier as Brendon groped him through the cloth. His hands immediately found their way up underneath Brendon's bright red ones to cup his ass.
"Okay, fuck it, then." You fail at slow, Jon told himself, but he really didn't feel the reprimand. This was fun. Doing this, getting naked, kissing until their mouths were wet, touching how they wanted to touch.
Once Jon's boxers were free of his ankles, Brendon's mouth was on his stomach, hand on Jon's cock and he knew this part wasn't going slowly at all, but Jon gave up and gave in when he felt the first lick.
He glanced down with muttered, "ohhmmnngh." The visual of his dick disappearing between Brendon's lips gave staunch competition to the beautiful line of Brendon's spine running down to the crack of round ass, rocking as he rutted against the sheets.
The only thing – the only thing – that was wrong with Brendon giving him head was that Jon couldn't touch his ass at the same time.
Ooh, unless!, he remembered, and let out a happy chesty laugh which thankfully Brendon took as approval. Which, yes. That, too. But Jon figured they'd save sixty-nining for another time.
And on that thought …
"Br – Bren?" Jon gasped, losing himself for another moment to the feeling before he could speak again. "Bren-don, did you, did you want to, um … swallow?" Jon stuttered, God you're bad at bedroom talk!, as he squirmed, one hand twisting in the sheet underneath, the other squeezing Brendon's shoulder, trying to resist.
Brendon replied with a positive sounding growl that rumbled around Jon's cock and he gave a particularly firm suck, before resuming the slip-slide of his mouth.
"God. Okay," Jon gasped, trying to relax and let his climax build. He let his thighs fall apart, though he jumped and twitched with energy, curling his toes against Brendon's ribs. "That's it, fuck, don't stop. Bren, don’t stop."
Brendon hummed again, sounding slightly of pitied amusement. Jon's vision started going soft around the edges, sensations spinning wildly around him while at the calm center was Brendon, moving in silent, slow motion.
"Please don't stop …" he whispered.
The moment froze for one more lingering moment, both of them suspended, connected, before he let go. Jon shouted as his body bowed forward, coming into the heat of Brendon's mouth.
~^~
Brendon's cheek was resting in the tender crease of Jon's hip and thigh, puffs of his breath cooling against Jon's skin. Brendon pressed a couple tentative kisses before Jon forced himself out of post climactic bliss. "Hey, c'mere, I can... Wanna do for you, too."
Brendon's self deprecating chuckle made him sit up. "Uh, don't worry about it. You kind of did, already."
There was a dark, wet spot on the sheet and Brendon tugged at the corner of the blanket to wipe off his stomach. He kept his chin tucked down, chewing the corner of lip. "Embarrassing," Brendon muttered.
Jon sat up and slipped his arms under Brendon's, hugging him around the chest. "Hey."
"Ugh-mph. Hi." Brendon laughed, squirming to support his weight with his hip so he could hug Jon back.
He had absolutely no words that didn't make 'thank you' or 'you're hot' or 'how are you so cute?' sound as ridiculous as that. He was essentially still making mental victory arms. He settled on, "can we chill out for while like this? You got anywhere to go?"
"Yeah. No. I'd like that."
Jon ran his thumb over the corner of Brendon's mouth before kissing him.
~^~
It wasn't quite sleep, but they had both drifted into a deep and sated rest when a change in the air signaled the front door opening.
Brendon was hot against him, their bodies had cooled from the clammy heat of sex, but Brendon was burning again. Jon heard the door shut and the general sounds of movement in the next room and tensed. Brendon sat up, gave him a sleepy smile, and kissed him. "It's okay," he whispered.
"Brendon?" Greta called out, concern in her voice. Jon figured she must have noticed the open window and sensed their presence. "You here?"
"Yeah. Hi!" Brendon called, sitting up a little further.
"Oh, good. Scared me for a second." Her voice was nearing the door as she spoke and Jon sat up while Brendon actually leaped to his feet, underwear in hand. "What's going on with you today-Hey there! – is that a blue ICEE?" She walked in on them, her eyes bugged, and redirected immediately.
"Yes, it is. You can have it." Brendon stepped into his underwear, laughing a little. "If you want."
"No. No, thank you. Color like that is just not natural. So, yeah, I think I'll go back to my room now. Where naked men aren't. Hi, Jon!"
"Hey," he answered as she waved over her shoulder.
~^~
Jon waited for the last vestiges of humiliation to cool from his face before he went into the other room. Brendon and Greta were having a quiet conversation. They weren't whispering, not trying to exclude Jon, but were maybe a little embarrassed, too.
"Sorry! We didn't expect you home yet. Um, obviously."
"Aw, no, honey, don't be. I was just too tired to finish my shift. Besides, somebody in this house oughta be getting off. But to be honest, I'd rather it were me!" She grinned and pinched at Brendon's waist, who just danced around her, handing her food from the tiny refrigerator.
"Really?" Brendon asked, adjusting the waistband of his boxers. "I thought you were too bloaty and hating the dispensers of sperm to be into that."
Greta yawned, proving his point. "Sometimes. But it'd also be nice to get good and ploughed."
"I already offered you my body in your time of need." Brendon held his arms out to the side with a little whine of rejection. Brendon's tone was so sincere, the sarcasm was obvious.
Still. "Hey," Jon protested gently.
Greta beamed at Jon as he approached and surprised both himself – and Brendon, judging by the squeak – by wrapping Brendon in his arms, expelling a territorial harrumph into Brendon's shoulder.
"Thanks for the offer, cute stuff, but I think you've just been spoken for."
"Am I spoken for?" Brendon asked. He was joking as well, but there was still a hopeful anxiety in his eyes, which Jon thought was pretty stupid what with all the kissing and cuddling and nakedness before. He nodded, though, jutting his chin into the feel of the dry phisth of his beard against skin.
Greta carried on making a plate of veggies and hummus. "That's why pregnant women are supposed to be married. I discover this now. And it's none of that Biblical shit either - it's so they have someone to give them orgasms."
Brendon laughed and Jon drifted over to the daybed couch, watching them but not really paying attention as they discussed something about sex and labor which all went over Jon's head anyway. He was considering Brendon's mostly naked - and virginal, the always horny part of his brain supplied - body, which ignited a flare of territorialism in him. He noted how Greta's full and flushed figure projected virtue simultaneously with sex. He wanted to photograph them together. The challenge would be to capture the honesty of the moment. Not just the implication of recent sex, a near naked boy and a pregnant girl, but the reality of innocence between two friends in love with each other. Something in the easy natural beauty of Greta's smile reminded Jon of losing his own virginity with Cassandra Andrews. "I owe a girl an orgasm," he spoke aloud as he thought.
Greta blinked at him and then at Brendon with raised eyebrows, who looked patiently amused. "Oh, he does this sometimes. Give him a minute, it'll make sense."
Jon blushed as they took seats on the daybed and waited. "I just meant … the first, my first, girl, I was with? I was seventeen." He glanced at Brendon who was listening intently. "Obviously, I didn't know what I was doing. Looking back, I kinda figure there's a karmic lack of female orgasm in the universe because of me."
"Oh, take it from me." Greta patted Jon's knee. "If there's a karmic lack of female orgasm in the universe, you aren't the only guy responsible."
~^~
They watched the Animaniacs on Greta's laptop (Brendon repeating Wacko's lines in a Liverpudlian accent) and because the screen was too dim for Jon to see the picture for three people across, he ended up with his head in Brendon's lap. Jon knew Brendon and Greta exchanged endearing smirks over his head but he didn't mind.
"Ow, this kid, I swear!" Greta would wince every now and then, shifting with her discomfort. Jon wasn't sure if it was polite to make any comment but once, when she placed Brendon's hand on her belly, he looked in time to see Brendon's hand rise and fall over it.
"Whoa!" Jon's voice low and awed. "I could see that!"
"Tell me about it. … Wanna feel?" she offered, her open smile matching Brendon's.
"You sure?" He honestly had never, ever, felt inclined to touch a pregnant woman before.
"It's freaky like woah – do it!" Brendon encouraged.
He was awkwardly stretched across Brendon's legs when she took his hand and placed it high in the middle next to Brendon's. "Baby likes Brendon's hot little hands. He was always moves towards them," she told him.
Jon smiled, feeling momentarily ridiculous for touching her obscenely large belly when it suddenly bulged under his hand.
He laughed a little, surprised. "That's weird! Is it really kicking its feet right there?"
"Hm," Greta considered her abdomen, chewing the corner of her mouth. "Actually, I think it's knees or butt right there."
He shared a smile with Brendon, their fingers overlapping. It reminded him of when they sat on the floor playing with the cats, only this was probably more significant.
~^~
Greta was in the bathroom when Jon shifted around to look at his defacto pillow.
Brendon tensed and squirmed, making Jon sit up. "You can't look at me like that now," he chided, pressing a palm to his groin while darting his eyes at the bathroom door.
"What? I didn't say anything." Jon hadn't said a thing. All he'd done was look at Brendon's thighs, his stomach, and his nipples, which he had yet to put his mouth on.
"But you looked like you were gonna eat me!"
Jon licked his bottom lip and chuckled low; he remembered now, hearing it out loud, that it was what Tom had called 'wolfish' once.
"Jon Walker!"
"You're the one half-naked, and why is that, by the way?"
"Um." Brendon shrugged, still pressing down on his cock. "I prefer nakedness when I'm at home. It's hot in here, anyway. And it's only Greta." He waved his other hand. "She's like one of my sisters."
"Hm." Jon hadn't had sisters, so nakedness in front of girls was kind of big deal to him, but this made sense.
They heard the water run in the bathroom and only had a moment of privacy left.
"Hey." Jon sat up a little, running his fingertip just under the waistband of Brendon's boxers. "Did you know that my house also prefers you naked and has no sister-like females?"
~^~
The walk back up the hill to Jon's house was hot, the heat of the summer sun peaking in the late afternoon.
Brendon's phone chimed its digital Backstreet Boys tone.
"Ryan," he explained, pulling it out of his pocket and reading. "Ha! He asks if you've found me yet." Brendon seemed amused but Jon actually wanted Ryan to know.
"Tell him that I did. Tell him I found you."
~^~
"Hi babies!" Brendon greeted the cats as a swarm of tails and paws threatened to trip them through the front door.
Jon got a couple beers while Brendon dropped to the floor to appease his feline groupies. They drank in relative silence, talking more to the cats than to each other, and when Jon realized that a nervous tension was mounting between them, he leaned forward. "Hey." They stretched forward, lips barely meeting in a kiss, but it was wet and familiar, and Brendon's shoulders relaxed again.
"I – mind if I shower?" Brendon shook his head, unsticking sweat-damp hair from his forehead.
Jon leaned forward again, kissing the bitter taste of beer off his tongue before answering, "You know where it is."
Jon took the time to finish his beer, making a mental note to count the cats when he fed them later because one of them was absent, but the sound of water running lured him up the stairs singing an upbeat and nonsensical 'doot, doot, doot' under his breath.
"Clean towels," he announced, poking his head in the bathroom.
Brendon's wet, dark head peaked around the shower curtain. "Jon Walker – get in here!"
~^~
"Ugh,ngh-that's nice…" Jon's long groan echoed off the tile walls but the sound was muffled by the water rushing over his ears.
Brendon's fingers massaged, rinsing the lather from his hair. They'd kissed and stroked each other into hardness, washing each other until sexy-steamy-sudsy broke down into the more ridiculous slipping feet-bumped elbows-goosebumps.
"I don't think sexy shower porn really exists," Brendon finally said, laughing into Jon's shoulder. "Let me wash your hair instead?"
So Jon stood, wet and limp, chest to chest while Brendon threaded conditioner into his hair. It was still a little sexy, even if it wasn't porn worthy. "You're good at that," he sighed.
"I don't think I've mentioned…" Brendon started and the pause carried enough hesitation that Jon wiped the water from his eyes and looked up.
"What?" Jon slid his arms around Brendon's waist, adjusting them under the shower spray. "Tell me."
"…That I like doing hair? Cutting, styling. I think..." Brendon shrugged, dismissive, not meeting Jon's eyes. "I want my own salon someday. I might not be bad at it."
"Sure. Cool. There's like, school for that, or something, right?" Jon asked, dipping his head and catching Brendon's eyes so that he couldn't avoid him.
"Yeah! Cosmetology school. I have to get a license to do it. I've been saving money so I don't have to get a student loan."
Jon immediately thought of his grandmother's money and nearly mentioned it.
"You don't think it's stupid or something? Pretty much the gayest career possible, right?"
"No." Jon's felt a flare of annoyance at the nervous little smile Brendon had. Not at him, but that in spite of everything that was honest about him, he would still undercut himself with someone else's prejudice. "Don't say that. Nothing you want to do is stupid. Just do it, man."
Brendon laughed while Jon turned off the water and reached for towels. "Okay. I'm gonna remember you said that." Brendon sounded just a little bit wicked as he said it.
~^~
Brendon was in a shadow on the bed, the sun no longer streaming in through the window, but Jon could easily see the contrast of sparse freckles over his fair skin. Jon's lips moved over the mole on his scruffy jaw, and then the one on his chest and he continued kissing as he backed down the bed. Brendon didn't have a lot of hair, but it was dark and coarse around the base of his cock.
"Jon, son of a … are you tormenting me on purpose?" Brendon's voice croaked, his legs twitching on either side of Jon's shoulders.
"Not at all." Though he really was. He kissed and mouthed along Brendon's cock, which strained upwards against Jon's lips. Jon squeezed him, sucking the head into his mouth, and for first time, giving serious consideration to what it would feel like to let Brendon fuck him. He decided right then on fingering himself the next time he jerked off and moaned.
"Jesus!" Brendon's gasped and he continued to swear, sounding much further along than Jon had intended. Brendon was a little easy on the trigger, which just meant they'd have to do more often …build up his endurance, Jon thought with a amusement.
Jon had never been comfortable with deep-throating but found he could nearly manage it with Brendon. He worked his mouth up and down, lips wet and sloppy, moisture clinging to his beard, and he pulled up to lick at the head when he needed to breathe.
"…Holy shit, seriously."
"I don't think I'm as good as you," he told Brendon, being pragmatic and taking him in again.
"You're fucking kidding me, right?" Jon looked up. Brendon's eyes were closed, his face screwed up and tense. "'Cause I'm gonna come – oh, fuck, fuck – I'm gonna come." Jon slid up and down on his cock once more, until he felt Brendon freeze and shudder and got the first shot in his mouth before pulling off.
Jon made himself swallow, always finding it a little weird. He jerked Brendon through it until his belly was spattered and he put his hand over Jon's to still him.
He crawled up next to Brendon and rolled onto his side, facing him. Brendon kissed Jon's neck and teased his nipples, whispering something about 'good, so good,' while Jon jerked off, pressing the wet tip of his dick against Brendon's hip until he came.
Brendon held Jon's head to him, kissing his hair and stroking his arms.
Eventually, he reached for a still damp bath towel on the floor and each of them took an end to clean off with then stared at each other with sleepy, satisfied smiles.
~^~
Jon felt particularly hot anywhere Brendon touched him. The heat of his hand trailed up and down Jon's chest, then across his shoulders. A finger dipped into the divot of his collarbone and then made slow circles around and around his nipple, never quite touching the delicate skin. It still puckered to a point more from stimulation rather than arousal and Brendon hummed at the reaction, then repeated it to the other one.
Jon looked down at Brendon through slit eyes; he was propped up with one elbow on the bed, his chin resting lightly over Jon's ribs, watching his finger's effect on Jon's skin.
He rubbed a light hand over Brendon's bare back and shoulders and lay back again, giving himself over to Brendon's attention.
The mapping of his body progressed down to his stomach, scratching lightly through the course hair low on his belly. Jon may have purred just a little.
"Sorry, 'm not trying to tickle." Brendon's voice was deep and lazy.
"Doesn't. I'm not ticklish." Jon stretched a little, arching his back and scratched at his chin through his beard.
"Get out you're not ticklish."
Jon put a hand behind his head to hold it up as he looked at Brendon. "No, really. I'm not."
"No fucking way!" Brendon protested and poked his fingers into Jon's belly.
Jon smiled. "I like it. Feels good."
Brendon huffed, pressed his face to Jon's stomach, kissing him several times before they returned to the quiet with only the sound of Brendon's hand sliding along his skin.
Jon had one knee bent and falling open slightly allowing Brendon's hand to skim along the crease of his thigh, cupping his soft cock carefully for a moment, before moving on to do the same to his balls and after that, he ran his finger along the tendon of his inner thigh. "Still not ticklish?" Brendon asked. It sounded like a tease, but Jon was pretty sure it was because he only wanted to be comforting.
"Still not."
Jon put his hand on Brendon's back, moving his thumb back and forth over the sharp edge of his shoulder blade. He felt detached from himself and yet so connected to Brendon at the same time, like he might just float away if it wasn't for Brendon's hands keeping him in place. The safety of this, the physical connection, was something Jon hadn't experienced before. Tom had been fun, but he was more about headlocks and fist bumps. When they'd fucked, it was companionably done, carefree and lighthearted like everything else they did. Jon always trusted him. The irony of having your best friend become a fuck buddy was that holding hands and cuddling was never a part of it. The 'after' included putting on their boxers right away and sharing a cigarette. Fingers, tongues, and dicks were all on, but not holding hands, apparently.
Bill had been something different, every conversation and touch starting out nice but leaving Jon wondering if it would be manipulated and used against him later. He was beginning to feel more sympathy for Bill, now, than resentment. Maybe he'd just been seeking something that Jon was unable to give.
He glanced down again.
"Whatcha doin', Bren?" Jon asked, his voice was soft, but it still cut through the quiet.
Brendon looked up at him with his big, dark eyes, and then down to where he'd been cupping Jon's balls in his hand again. He pulled away, frowning. "Sorry. Am I being weird?"
"No." Jon pressed Brendon's head to his chest, affecting an awkward hug. He hated that Brendon's default assumption was that he was doing something bad, wrong or weird. "I like it. That. What you're doing is fine. I just wondered if you were okay? You're pretty quiet."
Brendon shrugged one shoulder, a little dismissively, and then touched Jon again, though aimless this time, dragging a finger up Jon's thigh. "I just … wonder if you're feeling as much as I am. Because I'm really, feeling, a lot here. Wonder if it's just me being stupid and young?"
"Not stupid." He cupped the side of Brendon's face until they looked at each other. "And definitely. I am. A lot of feeling."
He understood where Brendon was coming from. This being so easy between them was kind of scary. Things weren't supposed to be this good, were they?
Brendon bit his lip and his expression turned mischievous as he crawled up and over top of Jon. "I've been giving it consideration and I've decided that I officially like all of your parts, Jon Walker."
Jon snorted a laugh. "Everything, huh? Even my nose?" he asked, as Brendon was currently nudging it with his own.
"Definitely your nose! Why not? You don't like it?"
Jon shrugged, which was difficult to do lying down with a naked and wriggling Brendon on top of him, and hooked his index finger over the bridge of his nose. "It's sorta wonky, don't you think? Broke it when I was fourteen."
Brendon stuck out his lower lip in sympathy and kissed it. "Bill? Or Mike?"
Jon laughed. "I don't even remember. Shit, but they were in so much trouble. They had to do all my chores for a month that summer. Totally worth it."
Brendon's eyes were wide and fond. "Did they do it on purpose?"
"What? No. We always fuck around like that. I gave one of them a black eye at least every month. They used to do the craziest shit around the neighborhood and let me tag along. Then when they got caught they always covered for me." Jon shifted, setting Brendon more comfortably on him. "You had brothers; didn't you do stuff like that?"
Brendon looked down, concentration on Jon's collarbone before he shrugged with a thoughtful crease between his brows. "Nah. I was too young to play with them that much. And then later, I don't know, I was pretty chill those last couple of years when they were still at home."
Jon tried to add up the age differences between Brendon's siblings again. "Was that when you were on the meds?"
"Yeah." Brendon pursed his lips and waggled his eyebrows in what Jon recognized and his 'make the best of it' face. "I did lots of reading then, not much 'crazy shit'. Heh."
Jon smiled and kissed Brendon until the frown went away and his eyes looked easy again, then he lay back and closed his eyes while Brendon nosed along his neck. He thought of Brendon as a boy and having his playful nature medicated out of him. The tension of anger crept across his shoulders and Jon took a breath and stretched. It was no wonder Brendon had had the focus to read those Harry Potter books.
His stomach rumbled then, which wasn't a surprise; Jon had been hungry for a while. Brendon laughed and pressed his face to Jon's belly.
"Food now? We've got time before we meet Ryan and Spencer."
"Food."
~^~
Ryan's had texted earlier and told them that they were going to a neighbor's hot tub that night.
It was nearly nine o'clock and only just getting dark. The desert sun seemed to hang in the sky longer here than anywhere Jon had ever been. He sat on the wicker bench next to Dylan who raised his head and mewed before stretching and setting into Jon's gentle pets. He'd learned the difference between how Richard III and Clover liked firm pats and Dylan flinched if you did any more than barely stroke his fur.
Brendon whistled when Ryan and Spencer came out of their front door, both wearing swim trunks. Spencer put a hand on his hip, rolling his eyes with a haughty huff, but then laughed easily and waved at Jon. Ryan ducked his head and curled his bare arms around the beach towel he held, but he had a tiny smile on his face. When Brendon got up in his face, saying something that sounded derogatory under his breath, Ryan checked him with his shoulder. "Shut up, Urie."
They set off ahead of Jon and Spencer, talking with low voices.
"So, hot tub?" Jon inquired.
"Mr. Pratt spends the summer in Colorado, but lets us keep using his hot tub here."
Spencer looked at Brendon and Ryan and back to Jon. "I know sex hair when I see it, so whatever you guys did, he's telling Ryan all about it. Just so you know."
Jon shrugged and ran a smoothing hand over his hair. "I mean, if that's what Brendon wants to do." He looked up and Spencer was smiling at him, looking like he was waiting for something. "What? Ryan can tell you later, I don't kiss and tell."
"Kiss and tell?" Spencer laughed. "Oh, my god. You're from the 1950's!"
Jon had been made fun of before and he could tell that Spencer's laughter wasn't the cutting kind.
"I assume Ryan tells him everything about you guys, though. You don't mind?"
Spencer shook his head, still smiling as he looked up the road at them ahead. "Nah. See …" Spencer paused, he clenched his teeth and sucked in a breath, looking like he was contemplating if he should say what was on his mind. Jon looked away to give him the moment to decide. "The thing is," Spencer finally said, sounding like he might be using his 'professional voice' as though he didn't really care, but Jon knew he did care, quite a lot, "before we met Brendon, Ryan had got all weird in his head about us being boyfriends – lovers – whatever, those words are so stupid – but it was like he didn't know how to be that with me and still be best friends."
Jon nodded, remembering Tom. It was hard to let things change and not let the change ruin everything.
"You'd think, like, because me and Brendon have more in common, growing up with siblings and married parents and family vacations and shit, that we'd relate more or …" Spencer waved his hand vaguely and rubbed his eyebrows before continuing, "… something. But people bond over the bad stuff, don't they? Olivia, your grandma, she introduced them right after Ryan's dad had died and Brendon had just come out and walked away from his whole life and … they just needed each other more."
Jon tried to imagine how hurtful that must have been. "But so, you're friends with Brendon, too, though?" Jon asked, already knowing the answer.
"Oh, yeah! I love Brendon. I'll tell you something, there was awhile when I thought me and Ryan weren't gonna make it but then Ryan had a new best friend that he could relate to because I guess I can't understand all the emo-angst they have or whatever." Spencer rolled his eyes. "But you know, I got my boyfriend back because of Brendon, so I'm cool with it."
~^~
Part 5
Part 4
Part 3
~^~
The following day, he was lingering on his front steps contemplating going next door to talk to Spencer or Ryan, when instead, they came out. They were headed towards the van but exchanged pointed looks when they saw him and walked over.
"Hey." Spencer was in work scrubs, mommy and baby farm animals print, while Ryan had a heavy looking messenger bag on his shoulder and a few more books in hand.
"Hey guys. Heading out?" Obvious, Walker.
Ryan gave him a creepily cheerful smile. "Work. Library." He gestured respectively.
Spencer kneeled down to join Jon petting Dylan who was sleeping under a large vining plant. "How's he been doing?"
"He's, um. Fine? Sleeps a lot. You know. Cat."
"Mmm," Spencer nodded, smirking at the obvious awkwardness. Ryan was still smiling, his mouth looking a little cracked, and he was pretty sure Spencer was examining Dylan more than he was petting him.
He huffed and glanced over his shoulder. "Ryan."
"Okay," he snapped, his long fingers gripping at his books. "So, the thing is, Brendon's stupid."
"Ryan!"
Jon was confused and already irritated and the feeling must have shown on his face by the way Ryan flinched.
"Kidding. He's not stupid. But, he might have taken something I said once seriously, about not messing around with guys when you've been drinking. Plus which, you know how he was raised, right?" Jon nodded, glancing at Spencer who resolutely kept his attention on the cat. "You've seen Spencer's dog chase her tail?" Ryan asked.
"Uh?" And people thought Jon was random.
"Brendon's like that sometimes," Ryan continued. "He really tries to do something right, but then he gets caught up on the 'doing it' part and kind of forgets what the point is."
"Okay." Jon stood up and tilted his head. "So you're telling me Brendon's over-thinking things? He's talked to you about us then?"
Spencer huffed a quiet laugh.
"Well, yeah," Ryan answered.
"But we didn't even – Brendon didn't – he's got nothing to feel bad about. I wouldn't be like that."
"I know. He knows that, now, too. But he probably feels dumb. Oh, and he got knocked out in a bar! He's embarrassed, Jon. You should go find him. I can't even believe you're actually still here."
~^~
Brendon hadn't done any deliveries for Patrick that day, Jon found out. Gerard was the next person he thought of, who he found smoking outside of his studio, restlessly kicking at the drain grate.
"Jon, hey!" It was a surprise to be greeted with a hug but he wasn't one to turn down hugs, especially ones given with such zeal. "How is Brendon?" He glanced behind Jon like he'd just realized Brendon wasn't with him. "Where is Brendon? Is he okay?"
"Oh. So he's not here then?" Jon wondered if his voice sounded as sad to Gerard as it did to himself.
"No, he's not. Shit! What happened? He was all fuckin' twittery about you before that shit went down the other night. Which, my god. You should have seen you and Frank charging into that fight. Motherfuck, that was hot."
Jon crossed his arms and laughed off the comment. Frank may have charged. "I was only trying to get to Brendon." He rotated his ankle, absent-mindedly flapping one flip-flop against his heel.
"Sure." Gerard mercifully seemed to sense Jon's discomfort and changed the subject. "Weekend tourists, you know." He jerked his thumb at the front door. "Been in there for-fucking-ever. I don't know if they plan on buying or what but I had to smoke. I hear it's bad for business to smoke around the customers," he scoffed.
"Right." Jon put his hands in his pockets and watched Gerard toe at the slat of the metal grate. "Where's Frank?"
"Inside, probably trying to sell my shit for twice its price."
Jon laughed. "So things are all right with him here?"
Gerard exhaled to the side, his mouth quirked into a faint grin. "Yeah."
Something in the degree of the positive affirmation in Gerard's voice struck Jon.
"Oh?" Jon asked.
Gerard kept his eyes down and scratched at his bottom lip with his thumb.
"Oh, really?" Jon hadn't even meant to inquire after that but then again, he couldn't get Brendon out of his head after only a week; if Gerard had been clinging to something, even to nothing, with Frank for as long as he'd implied, then no wonder.
"Yeah," Gerard shrugged and now he was blushing. "Oh, my god. Finally – I can't even tell you how - yeah!" He sounded a little surprised by his own announcement.
~^~
Jon nearly passed the internet café but Ray waved through the window at him with such enthusiasm that he felt compelled to go in and say hi.
"Toro! Nice to …" Jon quieted at the look of intensity on Ray's face as he came around the counter, glancing over his shoulder as he approached.
"Dude, I was hoping someone was gonna come by." Ray's voice was low and quiet. "He's been here forever."
"Brendon? He's here?"
"Yeah. I haven't asked but. I mean, I saw what happened at Hall's, but I thought you... Well whatever, I didn't know if I should call someone. I thought maybe Ryan or Greta, but seeing as you're here."
"Thanks, yeah. He's okay?"
"Oh, fuck yeah. Actually, he worked out a bug I had in the server networking the games together. I just haven't had time to deal with it so I owe him big. But I kinda figured he wouldn't be hiding out here if something wasn't wrong so I just left him to it."
Jon was already following to where Ray had indicated. There were a few people at various computers but the place was largely quiet. Brendon sat on an old leather sofa, playing Halo 3. In spite of the apprehension in Jon's belly, he had a sense of ease just from seeing him.
He sat right next to Brendon, watching on the big flatscreen as he killed Flood. Neither said a thing until Jon warned, "Look out for the! –shit. Too bad."
Brendon paused the game then, resting the controller in his lap.
Jon could see the purpling bruise on his temple, though it was largely hidden by the arm of his red glasses. Jon reached out and touched Brendon's hair just above his ear as if his fingers could somehow sooth the hurt there. It didn't really occur to him until he'd done it that the touch might be too forward if Brendon was upset about things between them, but Brendon's shoulders softened and he let out a breath. He angled into Jon's touch the slightest bit and Jon opened his hand, palming the back of his head briefly. Taking heed of the other customers in the room, he put his hand down, stroking Brendon's arm as he did. "Hey."
"Hi."
Brendon worked his lips with agitation and dug his thumbnails into the rubber edge of the game controller.
Jon didn't want to push him or make him feel weird. He hated when other people made him feel weird and if Brendon was having second thoughts about 'them,' then maybe Jon needed more time to convince him. He just didn't want to be weird. "Hey, you wanna go get ICEEs?"
Brendon looked directly at Jon, half of his face looking slightly pinched and then he then smiled, the really pretty one that softened his eyes and showed all his teeth. "You are so fantastically random sometimes, Jon Walker."
"I know," Jon sighed. "It's not actually so random in my head." Or quite so weird.
~^~
The Circle K had a shiny new ICEE machine that now carried three flavors, the addition of blueberry to Coke and cherry had their mouths bright blue by the time they climbed the back steps to Brendon and Greta's attic apartment.
"Okay, here it is…" Brendon pushed the door open and with the stately open-palmed gesture of a butler. "Sir."
Jon bowed his head, "Sir," and walked in.
The walls were lined with unmatched shelves full of baskets and cubbies, and the vibrant colors in the room reminded Jon of Kindergarten.
"Kinda makes me want some Play Doh," he observed.
Brendon laughed quietly, emptying change from his pocket and dropping the quarters into a glass jar. Jon watched Brendon's ass as he bent forward to push open a window and glanced away when he switched on a box fan. He nearly gave himself a brain-freeze from gulping too fast when Brendon tugged his t-shirt off. The action was obviously just a practical matter judging by the perspiration circles under Brendon's arms, but Jon felt himself get a little warmer in spite of the icy headache.
"I can give you the grand tour," Brendon said. He held his shirt and cup in one hand while the other wrapped around Jon's bicep. Standing this close, he could feel Brendon emanating heat. One pale-chested, shirtless virgin had no business being that hot.
"Please do," Jon choked.
"Okay. So, we are currently in the foyer, as you can see," he said, sweeping his arms in a grand gesture.
"I can."
Brendon walked them approximately five steps forward. "This is the kitchen." There was a small sink and the complete lack of stove was compensated with a toaster oven, electric kettle and a George Foreman grill all lined up on the counter.
"I admire your taste in grills. I used to have one."
"Thank you! You know, I didn't want anything flashy or ostentatious, so, naturally."
"Naturally."
"And this is the living room." Greta's bed doubled as the couch. "Media center." Greta's laptop. "And the bathroom is up the stairs and to the right." The door to the bathroom was, in fact, about four feet away.
"Very nice. I like the open floor plan."
Brendon smiled, biting his lip, and slipped his hand from Jon's arm down to clasp his hand. He tilted his head to the side as if asking a question but said nothing. Every touch of Brendon's fingertips against Jon's skin felt poignant but also like maybe Jon wasn't supposed to notice. He sometimes noticed what he was meant to ignore and likewise overlooked important things. … He really did not want to miss anything important now.
"I can show you the guest house," Brendon offered, keeping up the game. "It's not as grand as the main house, of course."
"I'll bet it's even better than Ryan Atwood's."
"Totally. Dude, the O.C. hasn't got a thing on Bisbee!"
Brendon led them through a second door at the far end of the room, pausing long enough to say, "You know, I've never had a boy in my room before," batting his eyelashes.
"Lucky for you, I'm a gentleman."
Brendon squeezed his hand.
His half of the attic was actually more of a quarter. A single mattress was on the floor in the corner against the wall, but the bed was made. He had bookshelf with plastic bins that held his clothes in lieu of a dresser while a few books, CDs, and DVD's were prominently displayed. Not as sign of orderliness he didn't think, Jon had known obsessives before, but Brendon's object placement looked more like a sign of the value he placed on his few possessions.
Brendon threw his shirt at a laundry pile on the floor, missed it, and put his ICEE cup down, still holding Jon's hand. "Um, so, Greta's gonna be working for a few more hours."
"Yeah?" Jon took a final sip and set his cup next to Brendon's.
"Your mouth is all blue," Brendon giggled.
"So is yours."
Brendon licked his lips as he looked at Jon's and they moved a fraction closer to each other.
"Do you think we could maybe…?" Brendon's voice got quieter, deeper and they shifted closer. "Skip the part where I explain why I had a tiny freak out and apologize and just go back to where we were before you saw me get knocked out like a total pussy and-"
"Hey, no." Jon cut him off. He removed Brendon's glasses and put a hand over the back of Brendon's head to angle him down to kiss the bruise on his brow bone.
He set the glasses aside and then moved in closely. "We can skip that part. And we can take it slow," Jon breathed the words against Brendon's mouth.
"Slow," he agreed, pressing his full bottom lip to Jon's upper. The kiss was desperately tender and soft. For all that he began to sweat and harden in the complete lack of ventilation, he pulled Brendon closer anyway.
~^~
They paused long enough to kick off their shoes and get to their knees on Brendon's mattress, but Jon couldn't remember once breaking their kiss.
Their tongues were still cold and syrup sweet from the ICEEs and his hands roamed Brendon's naked back and shoulders, fingers running along the groove of every rib and vertebrate.
"Yeah," he murmured when he felt Brendon lifting the hem of his t-shirt. He wanted to get the thing off, the room was stifling, although he was sure Brendon's chest against his would make it hotter.
It did. Jon sat back before lying down and Brendon followed, sprawling on top of him.
Brendon hovered for a moment, running one hand over Jon's chest with a quiet laugh. "Gotta say, Jon Walker, I think I expected you to be more … furry." He bent his head and slowly kissed the expanse of skin between Jon's nipples.
"Wha?" Jon looked down him and then laughed as up at the ceiling. "Oh. Yeah, not much chest hair, I kn-know." He stammered as Brendon tongued over one nipple and then the other. Jon put a hand gently on Brendon's head, arching slightly, letting him know the action was definitely, definitely appreciated.
He was hurting, actually aching with how hard he was so that when Brendon lay over him, pressing down, he moaned his relief much louder into the quiet of the room than he'd intended. It was a bit embarrassing and he felt tension creep across Brendon's back.
"Sorry," Jon whispered. "Feels good."
"Oh. Good." Brendon relaxed a bit, getting heavier on top of him, fingers digging a little into Jon's ribs. "I just want – um, I don't know-" Brendon made a frustrated little grunt, grinding against him as if Jon needed some demonstration as to how hard he was.
Jon had promised 'slow' and he'd meant it, but he realized it wasn't being fair to put all forward momentum of this on Brendon alone. He rolled them over and found himself nestled between Brendon's parted thighs. He hooked one calf over the back of Jon's and arched up.
"This, yes. Ah."
Brendon was falling apart underneath him and Jon had to decide whether he was going to put him back together or finish unraveling him. He made another desperate mewling, "Jon?" while looking up with a plea in his eyes.
And that was all it took; Jon never had been able to resist the temptation of tugging on a loose thread.
Jon controlled the tempo for as long as he could with wet, breathless kisses, exploring Brendon's lightly stubbled neck until Brendon slid his hand down between them, finding the hard ridged line of Jon's erection and squeezed. Jon pressed into his palm and when Brendon's fingers shifted to the button, Jon leaned up, meeting Brendon's eyes and trying to slow his breathing.
"More naked?" Brendon voiced a demand rather than an inquiry, pushing at Jon's jeans.
"Yeah. Okay, yeah. More."
"Not to …" Brendon faltered, looking in his eyes.
"No, no. Just to …"
"Yeah."
"Ah, shit, yes," Jon hissed when his fly opened.
Jon shifted away as they pushed their jeans off, Brendon needing to tug his tight pants over his heels. They laughed quietly together, trading kisses while maneuvering around knees and elbows. The cotton boxer-briefs they sported didn't last long either. Jon's modest whites were a flimsy barrier as Brendon groped him through the cloth. His hands immediately found their way up underneath Brendon's bright red ones to cup his ass.
"Okay, fuck it, then." You fail at slow, Jon told himself, but he really didn't feel the reprimand. This was fun. Doing this, getting naked, kissing until their mouths were wet, touching how they wanted to touch.
Once Jon's boxers were free of his ankles, Brendon's mouth was on his stomach, hand on Jon's cock and he knew this part wasn't going slowly at all, but Jon gave up and gave in when he felt the first lick.
He glanced down with muttered, "ohhmmnngh." The visual of his dick disappearing between Brendon's lips gave staunch competition to the beautiful line of Brendon's spine running down to the crack of round ass, rocking as he rutted against the sheets.
The only thing – the only thing – that was wrong with Brendon giving him head was that Jon couldn't touch his ass at the same time.
Ooh, unless!, he remembered, and let out a happy chesty laugh which thankfully Brendon took as approval. Which, yes. That, too. But Jon figured they'd save sixty-nining for another time.
And on that thought …
"Br – Bren?" Jon gasped, losing himself for another moment to the feeling before he could speak again. "Bren-don, did you, did you want to, um … swallow?" Jon stuttered, God you're bad at bedroom talk!, as he squirmed, one hand twisting in the sheet underneath, the other squeezing Brendon's shoulder, trying to resist.
Brendon replied with a positive sounding growl that rumbled around Jon's cock and he gave a particularly firm suck, before resuming the slip-slide of his mouth.
"God. Okay," Jon gasped, trying to relax and let his climax build. He let his thighs fall apart, though he jumped and twitched with energy, curling his toes against Brendon's ribs. "That's it, fuck, don't stop. Bren, don’t stop."
Brendon hummed again, sounding slightly of pitied amusement. Jon's vision started going soft around the edges, sensations spinning wildly around him while at the calm center was Brendon, moving in silent, slow motion.
"Please don't stop …" he whispered.
The moment froze for one more lingering moment, both of them suspended, connected, before he let go. Jon shouted as his body bowed forward, coming into the heat of Brendon's mouth.
~^~
Brendon's cheek was resting in the tender crease of Jon's hip and thigh, puffs of his breath cooling against Jon's skin. Brendon pressed a couple tentative kisses before Jon forced himself out of post climactic bliss. "Hey, c'mere, I can... Wanna do for you, too."
Brendon's self deprecating chuckle made him sit up. "Uh, don't worry about it. You kind of did, already."
There was a dark, wet spot on the sheet and Brendon tugged at the corner of the blanket to wipe off his stomach. He kept his chin tucked down, chewing the corner of lip. "Embarrassing," Brendon muttered.
Jon sat up and slipped his arms under Brendon's, hugging him around the chest. "Hey."
"Ugh-mph. Hi." Brendon laughed, squirming to support his weight with his hip so he could hug Jon back.
He had absolutely no words that didn't make 'thank you' or 'you're hot' or 'how are you so cute?' sound as ridiculous as that. He was essentially still making mental victory arms. He settled on, "can we chill out for while like this? You got anywhere to go?"
"Yeah. No. I'd like that."
Jon ran his thumb over the corner of Brendon's mouth before kissing him.
~^~
It wasn't quite sleep, but they had both drifted into a deep and sated rest when a change in the air signaled the front door opening.
Brendon was hot against him, their bodies had cooled from the clammy heat of sex, but Brendon was burning again. Jon heard the door shut and the general sounds of movement in the next room and tensed. Brendon sat up, gave him a sleepy smile, and kissed him. "It's okay," he whispered.
"Brendon?" Greta called out, concern in her voice. Jon figured she must have noticed the open window and sensed their presence. "You here?"
"Yeah. Hi!" Brendon called, sitting up a little further.
"Oh, good. Scared me for a second." Her voice was nearing the door as she spoke and Jon sat up while Brendon actually leaped to his feet, underwear in hand. "What's going on with you today-Hey there! – is that a blue ICEE?" She walked in on them, her eyes bugged, and redirected immediately.
"Yes, it is. You can have it." Brendon stepped into his underwear, laughing a little. "If you want."
"No. No, thank you. Color like that is just not natural. So, yeah, I think I'll go back to my room now. Where naked men aren't. Hi, Jon!"
"Hey," he answered as she waved over her shoulder.
~^~
Jon waited for the last vestiges of humiliation to cool from his face before he went into the other room. Brendon and Greta were having a quiet conversation. They weren't whispering, not trying to exclude Jon, but were maybe a little embarrassed, too.
"Sorry! We didn't expect you home yet. Um, obviously."
"Aw, no, honey, don't be. I was just too tired to finish my shift. Besides, somebody in this house oughta be getting off. But to be honest, I'd rather it were me!" She grinned and pinched at Brendon's waist, who just danced around her, handing her food from the tiny refrigerator.
"Really?" Brendon asked, adjusting the waistband of his boxers. "I thought you were too bloaty and hating the dispensers of sperm to be into that."
Greta yawned, proving his point. "Sometimes. But it'd also be nice to get good and ploughed."
"I already offered you my body in your time of need." Brendon held his arms out to the side with a little whine of rejection. Brendon's tone was so sincere, the sarcasm was obvious.
Still. "Hey," Jon protested gently.
Greta beamed at Jon as he approached and surprised both himself – and Brendon, judging by the squeak – by wrapping Brendon in his arms, expelling a territorial harrumph into Brendon's shoulder.
"Thanks for the offer, cute stuff, but I think you've just been spoken for."
"Am I spoken for?" Brendon asked. He was joking as well, but there was still a hopeful anxiety in his eyes, which Jon thought was pretty stupid what with all the kissing and cuddling and nakedness before. He nodded, though, jutting his chin into the feel of the dry phisth of his beard against skin.
Greta carried on making a plate of veggies and hummus. "That's why pregnant women are supposed to be married. I discover this now. And it's none of that Biblical shit either - it's so they have someone to give them orgasms."
Brendon laughed and Jon drifted over to the daybed couch, watching them but not really paying attention as they discussed something about sex and labor which all went over Jon's head anyway. He was considering Brendon's mostly naked - and virginal, the always horny part of his brain supplied - body, which ignited a flare of territorialism in him. He noted how Greta's full and flushed figure projected virtue simultaneously with sex. He wanted to photograph them together. The challenge would be to capture the honesty of the moment. Not just the implication of recent sex, a near naked boy and a pregnant girl, but the reality of innocence between two friends in love with each other. Something in the easy natural beauty of Greta's smile reminded Jon of losing his own virginity with Cassandra Andrews. "I owe a girl an orgasm," he spoke aloud as he thought.
Greta blinked at him and then at Brendon with raised eyebrows, who looked patiently amused. "Oh, he does this sometimes. Give him a minute, it'll make sense."
Jon blushed as they took seats on the daybed and waited. "I just meant … the first, my first, girl, I was with? I was seventeen." He glanced at Brendon who was listening intently. "Obviously, I didn't know what I was doing. Looking back, I kinda figure there's a karmic lack of female orgasm in the universe because of me."
"Oh, take it from me." Greta patted Jon's knee. "If there's a karmic lack of female orgasm in the universe, you aren't the only guy responsible."
~^~
They watched the Animaniacs on Greta's laptop (Brendon repeating Wacko's lines in a Liverpudlian accent) and because the screen was too dim for Jon to see the picture for three people across, he ended up with his head in Brendon's lap. Jon knew Brendon and Greta exchanged endearing smirks over his head but he didn't mind.
"Ow, this kid, I swear!" Greta would wince every now and then, shifting with her discomfort. Jon wasn't sure if it was polite to make any comment but once, when she placed Brendon's hand on her belly, he looked in time to see Brendon's hand rise and fall over it.
"Whoa!" Jon's voice low and awed. "I could see that!"
"Tell me about it. … Wanna feel?" she offered, her open smile matching Brendon's.
"You sure?" He honestly had never, ever, felt inclined to touch a pregnant woman before.
"It's freaky like woah – do it!" Brendon encouraged.
He was awkwardly stretched across Brendon's legs when she took his hand and placed it high in the middle next to Brendon's. "Baby likes Brendon's hot little hands. He was always moves towards them," she told him.
Jon smiled, feeling momentarily ridiculous for touching her obscenely large belly when it suddenly bulged under his hand.
He laughed a little, surprised. "That's weird! Is it really kicking its feet right there?"
"Hm," Greta considered her abdomen, chewing the corner of her mouth. "Actually, I think it's knees or butt right there."
He shared a smile with Brendon, their fingers overlapping. It reminded him of when they sat on the floor playing with the cats, only this was probably more significant.
~^~
Greta was in the bathroom when Jon shifted around to look at his defacto pillow.
Brendon tensed and squirmed, making Jon sit up. "You can't look at me like that now," he chided, pressing a palm to his groin while darting his eyes at the bathroom door.
"What? I didn't say anything." Jon hadn't said a thing. All he'd done was look at Brendon's thighs, his stomach, and his nipples, which he had yet to put his mouth on.
"But you looked like you were gonna eat me!"
Jon licked his bottom lip and chuckled low; he remembered now, hearing it out loud, that it was what Tom had called 'wolfish' once.
"Jon Walker!"
"You're the one half-naked, and why is that, by the way?"
"Um." Brendon shrugged, still pressing down on his cock. "I prefer nakedness when I'm at home. It's hot in here, anyway. And it's only Greta." He waved his other hand. "She's like one of my sisters."
"Hm." Jon hadn't had sisters, so nakedness in front of girls was kind of big deal to him, but this made sense.
They heard the water run in the bathroom and only had a moment of privacy left.
"Hey." Jon sat up a little, running his fingertip just under the waistband of Brendon's boxers. "Did you know that my house also prefers you naked and has no sister-like females?"
~^~
The walk back up the hill to Jon's house was hot, the heat of the summer sun peaking in the late afternoon.
Brendon's phone chimed its digital Backstreet Boys tone.
"Ryan," he explained, pulling it out of his pocket and reading. "Ha! He asks if you've found me yet." Brendon seemed amused but Jon actually wanted Ryan to know.
"Tell him that I did. Tell him I found you."
~^~
"Hi babies!" Brendon greeted the cats as a swarm of tails and paws threatened to trip them through the front door.
Jon got a couple beers while Brendon dropped to the floor to appease his feline groupies. They drank in relative silence, talking more to the cats than to each other, and when Jon realized that a nervous tension was mounting between them, he leaned forward. "Hey." They stretched forward, lips barely meeting in a kiss, but it was wet and familiar, and Brendon's shoulders relaxed again.
"I – mind if I shower?" Brendon shook his head, unsticking sweat-damp hair from his forehead.
Jon leaned forward again, kissing the bitter taste of beer off his tongue before answering, "You know where it is."
Jon took the time to finish his beer, making a mental note to count the cats when he fed them later because one of them was absent, but the sound of water running lured him up the stairs singing an upbeat and nonsensical 'doot, doot, doot' under his breath.
"Clean towels," he announced, poking his head in the bathroom.
Brendon's wet, dark head peaked around the shower curtain. "Jon Walker – get in here!"
~^~
"Ugh,ngh-that's nice…" Jon's long groan echoed off the tile walls but the sound was muffled by the water rushing over his ears.
Brendon's fingers massaged, rinsing the lather from his hair. They'd kissed and stroked each other into hardness, washing each other until sexy-steamy-sudsy broke down into the more ridiculous slipping feet-bumped elbows-goosebumps.
"I don't think sexy shower porn really exists," Brendon finally said, laughing into Jon's shoulder. "Let me wash your hair instead?"
So Jon stood, wet and limp, chest to chest while Brendon threaded conditioner into his hair. It was still a little sexy, even if it wasn't porn worthy. "You're good at that," he sighed.
"I don't think I've mentioned…" Brendon started and the pause carried enough hesitation that Jon wiped the water from his eyes and looked up.
"What?" Jon slid his arms around Brendon's waist, adjusting them under the shower spray. "Tell me."
"…That I like doing hair? Cutting, styling. I think..." Brendon shrugged, dismissive, not meeting Jon's eyes. "I want my own salon someday. I might not be bad at it."
"Sure. Cool. There's like, school for that, or something, right?" Jon asked, dipping his head and catching Brendon's eyes so that he couldn't avoid him.
"Yeah! Cosmetology school. I have to get a license to do it. I've been saving money so I don't have to get a student loan."
Jon immediately thought of his grandmother's money and nearly mentioned it.
"You don't think it's stupid or something? Pretty much the gayest career possible, right?"
"No." Jon's felt a flare of annoyance at the nervous little smile Brendon had. Not at him, but that in spite of everything that was honest about him, he would still undercut himself with someone else's prejudice. "Don't say that. Nothing you want to do is stupid. Just do it, man."
Brendon laughed while Jon turned off the water and reached for towels. "Okay. I'm gonna remember you said that." Brendon sounded just a little bit wicked as he said it.
~^~
Brendon was in a shadow on the bed, the sun no longer streaming in through the window, but Jon could easily see the contrast of sparse freckles over his fair skin. Jon's lips moved over the mole on his scruffy jaw, and then the one on his chest and he continued kissing as he backed down the bed. Brendon didn't have a lot of hair, but it was dark and coarse around the base of his cock.
"Jon, son of a … are you tormenting me on purpose?" Brendon's voice croaked, his legs twitching on either side of Jon's shoulders.
"Not at all." Though he really was. He kissed and mouthed along Brendon's cock, which strained upwards against Jon's lips. Jon squeezed him, sucking the head into his mouth, and for first time, giving serious consideration to what it would feel like to let Brendon fuck him. He decided right then on fingering himself the next time he jerked off and moaned.
"Jesus!" Brendon's gasped and he continued to swear, sounding much further along than Jon had intended. Brendon was a little easy on the trigger, which just meant they'd have to do more often …build up his endurance, Jon thought with a amusement.
Jon had never been comfortable with deep-throating but found he could nearly manage it with Brendon. He worked his mouth up and down, lips wet and sloppy, moisture clinging to his beard, and he pulled up to lick at the head when he needed to breathe.
"…Holy shit, seriously."
"I don't think I'm as good as you," he told Brendon, being pragmatic and taking him in again.
"You're fucking kidding me, right?" Jon looked up. Brendon's eyes were closed, his face screwed up and tense. "'Cause I'm gonna come – oh, fuck, fuck – I'm gonna come." Jon slid up and down on his cock once more, until he felt Brendon freeze and shudder and got the first shot in his mouth before pulling off.
Jon made himself swallow, always finding it a little weird. He jerked Brendon through it until his belly was spattered and he put his hand over Jon's to still him.
He crawled up next to Brendon and rolled onto his side, facing him. Brendon kissed Jon's neck and teased his nipples, whispering something about 'good, so good,' while Jon jerked off, pressing the wet tip of his dick against Brendon's hip until he came.
Brendon held Jon's head to him, kissing his hair and stroking his arms.
Eventually, he reached for a still damp bath towel on the floor and each of them took an end to clean off with then stared at each other with sleepy, satisfied smiles.
~^~
Jon felt particularly hot anywhere Brendon touched him. The heat of his hand trailed up and down Jon's chest, then across his shoulders. A finger dipped into the divot of his collarbone and then made slow circles around and around his nipple, never quite touching the delicate skin. It still puckered to a point more from stimulation rather than arousal and Brendon hummed at the reaction, then repeated it to the other one.
Jon looked down at Brendon through slit eyes; he was propped up with one elbow on the bed, his chin resting lightly over Jon's ribs, watching his finger's effect on Jon's skin.
He rubbed a light hand over Brendon's bare back and shoulders and lay back again, giving himself over to Brendon's attention.
The mapping of his body progressed down to his stomach, scratching lightly through the course hair low on his belly. Jon may have purred just a little.
"Sorry, 'm not trying to tickle." Brendon's voice was deep and lazy.
"Doesn't. I'm not ticklish." Jon stretched a little, arching his back and scratched at his chin through his beard.
"Get out you're not ticklish."
Jon put a hand behind his head to hold it up as he looked at Brendon. "No, really. I'm not."
"No fucking way!" Brendon protested and poked his fingers into Jon's belly.
Jon smiled. "I like it. Feels good."
Brendon huffed, pressed his face to Jon's stomach, kissing him several times before they returned to the quiet with only the sound of Brendon's hand sliding along his skin.
Jon had one knee bent and falling open slightly allowing Brendon's hand to skim along the crease of his thigh, cupping his soft cock carefully for a moment, before moving on to do the same to his balls and after that, he ran his finger along the tendon of his inner thigh. "Still not ticklish?" Brendon asked. It sounded like a tease, but Jon was pretty sure it was because he only wanted to be comforting.
"Still not."
Jon put his hand on Brendon's back, moving his thumb back and forth over the sharp edge of his shoulder blade. He felt detached from himself and yet so connected to Brendon at the same time, like he might just float away if it wasn't for Brendon's hands keeping him in place. The safety of this, the physical connection, was something Jon hadn't experienced before. Tom had been fun, but he was more about headlocks and fist bumps. When they'd fucked, it was companionably done, carefree and lighthearted like everything else they did. Jon always trusted him. The irony of having your best friend become a fuck buddy was that holding hands and cuddling was never a part of it. The 'after' included putting on their boxers right away and sharing a cigarette. Fingers, tongues, and dicks were all on, but not holding hands, apparently.
Bill had been something different, every conversation and touch starting out nice but leaving Jon wondering if it would be manipulated and used against him later. He was beginning to feel more sympathy for Bill, now, than resentment. Maybe he'd just been seeking something that Jon was unable to give.
He glanced down again.
"Whatcha doin', Bren?" Jon asked, his voice was soft, but it still cut through the quiet.
Brendon looked up at him with his big, dark eyes, and then down to where he'd been cupping Jon's balls in his hand again. He pulled away, frowning. "Sorry. Am I being weird?"
"No." Jon pressed Brendon's head to his chest, affecting an awkward hug. He hated that Brendon's default assumption was that he was doing something bad, wrong or weird. "I like it. That. What you're doing is fine. I just wondered if you were okay? You're pretty quiet."
Brendon shrugged one shoulder, a little dismissively, and then touched Jon again, though aimless this time, dragging a finger up Jon's thigh. "I just … wonder if you're feeling as much as I am. Because I'm really, feeling, a lot here. Wonder if it's just me being stupid and young?"
"Not stupid." He cupped the side of Brendon's face until they looked at each other. "And definitely. I am. A lot of feeling."
He understood where Brendon was coming from. This being so easy between them was kind of scary. Things weren't supposed to be this good, were they?
Brendon bit his lip and his expression turned mischievous as he crawled up and over top of Jon. "I've been giving it consideration and I've decided that I officially like all of your parts, Jon Walker."
Jon snorted a laugh. "Everything, huh? Even my nose?" he asked, as Brendon was currently nudging it with his own.
"Definitely your nose! Why not? You don't like it?"
Jon shrugged, which was difficult to do lying down with a naked and wriggling Brendon on top of him, and hooked his index finger over the bridge of his nose. "It's sorta wonky, don't you think? Broke it when I was fourteen."
Brendon stuck out his lower lip in sympathy and kissed it. "Bill? Or Mike?"
Jon laughed. "I don't even remember. Shit, but they were in so much trouble. They had to do all my chores for a month that summer. Totally worth it."
Brendon's eyes were wide and fond. "Did they do it on purpose?"
"What? No. We always fuck around like that. I gave one of them a black eye at least every month. They used to do the craziest shit around the neighborhood and let me tag along. Then when they got caught they always covered for me." Jon shifted, setting Brendon more comfortably on him. "You had brothers; didn't you do stuff like that?"
Brendon looked down, concentration on Jon's collarbone before he shrugged with a thoughtful crease between his brows. "Nah. I was too young to play with them that much. And then later, I don't know, I was pretty chill those last couple of years when they were still at home."
Jon tried to add up the age differences between Brendon's siblings again. "Was that when you were on the meds?"
"Yeah." Brendon pursed his lips and waggled his eyebrows in what Jon recognized and his 'make the best of it' face. "I did lots of reading then, not much 'crazy shit'. Heh."
Jon smiled and kissed Brendon until the frown went away and his eyes looked easy again, then he lay back and closed his eyes while Brendon nosed along his neck. He thought of Brendon as a boy and having his playful nature medicated out of him. The tension of anger crept across his shoulders and Jon took a breath and stretched. It was no wonder Brendon had had the focus to read those Harry Potter books.
His stomach rumbled then, which wasn't a surprise; Jon had been hungry for a while. Brendon laughed and pressed his face to Jon's belly.
"Food now? We've got time before we meet Ryan and Spencer."
"Food."
~^~
Ryan's had texted earlier and told them that they were going to a neighbor's hot tub that night.
It was nearly nine o'clock and only just getting dark. The desert sun seemed to hang in the sky longer here than anywhere Jon had ever been. He sat on the wicker bench next to Dylan who raised his head and mewed before stretching and setting into Jon's gentle pets. He'd learned the difference between how Richard III and Clover liked firm pats and Dylan flinched if you did any more than barely stroke his fur.
Brendon whistled when Ryan and Spencer came out of their front door, both wearing swim trunks. Spencer put a hand on his hip, rolling his eyes with a haughty huff, but then laughed easily and waved at Jon. Ryan ducked his head and curled his bare arms around the beach towel he held, but he had a tiny smile on his face. When Brendon got up in his face, saying something that sounded derogatory under his breath, Ryan checked him with his shoulder. "Shut up, Urie."
They set off ahead of Jon and Spencer, talking with low voices.
"So, hot tub?" Jon inquired.
"Mr. Pratt spends the summer in Colorado, but lets us keep using his hot tub here."
Spencer looked at Brendon and Ryan and back to Jon. "I know sex hair when I see it, so whatever you guys did, he's telling Ryan all about it. Just so you know."
Jon shrugged and ran a smoothing hand over his hair. "I mean, if that's what Brendon wants to do." He looked up and Spencer was smiling at him, looking like he was waiting for something. "What? Ryan can tell you later, I don't kiss and tell."
"Kiss and tell?" Spencer laughed. "Oh, my god. You're from the 1950's!"
Jon had been made fun of before and he could tell that Spencer's laughter wasn't the cutting kind.
"I assume Ryan tells him everything about you guys, though. You don't mind?"
Spencer shook his head, still smiling as he looked up the road at them ahead. "Nah. See …" Spencer paused, he clenched his teeth and sucked in a breath, looking like he was contemplating if he should say what was on his mind. Jon looked away to give him the moment to decide. "The thing is," Spencer finally said, sounding like he might be using his 'professional voice' as though he didn't really care, but Jon knew he did care, quite a lot, "before we met Brendon, Ryan had got all weird in his head about us being boyfriends – lovers – whatever, those words are so stupid – but it was like he didn't know how to be that with me and still be best friends."
Jon nodded, remembering Tom. It was hard to let things change and not let the change ruin everything.
"You'd think, like, because me and Brendon have more in common, growing up with siblings and married parents and family vacations and shit, that we'd relate more or …" Spencer waved his hand vaguely and rubbed his eyebrows before continuing, "… something. But people bond over the bad stuff, don't they? Olivia, your grandma, she introduced them right after Ryan's dad had died and Brendon had just come out and walked away from his whole life and … they just needed each other more."
Jon tried to imagine how hurtful that must have been. "But so, you're friends with Brendon, too, though?" Jon asked, already knowing the answer.
"Oh, yeah! I love Brendon. I'll tell you something, there was awhile when I thought me and Ryan weren't gonna make it but then Ryan had a new best friend that he could relate to because I guess I can't understand all the emo-angst they have or whatever." Spencer rolled his eyes. "But you know, I got my boyfriend back because of Brendon, so I'm cool with it."
~^~
Part 5
