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loverontheleft · 1 year

Text

Tease (Revised)

Revised 03/2023

Original anonymous request: heyyy i don’t know if you do specific eras but could you do vices!b smut where he has like the dirtiest most sinful mouth ever; like so dirty that the reader comes because of it one day and he decides to use it to his advantage in… certain… places… and it ends with him “apologizing” and then making it up to her in the bedroom

Brendon x Reader; 12k words (7k more than the original 😂)

Warnings: filthy language, degrading praise (good/best/etc slut), and some public sex.

-||-

You’re curled up together on the couch in your usual loungewear; that is, Brendon’s in sweatpants and nothing else, and you’re in underwear and one of his shirts. He likes to joke that between the two of you, you usually wear one complete outfit.

At this moment, he’s scrolling through Netflix, but you’ve both shot down every option. You yawn and stretch a little and, as your back arches, you press against him. You’d be lying if you said it wasn’t intentional; you’ve been craving his hands, his mouth, his body.

One of his hands instinctively curves over your hip and pulls you back against him, while the other strokes idly over your chest with lazy fingers teasing and gently rolling your nipples through the shirt.

You love when he holds you like this, pulls you close, like he can’t get enough of you. He’s got his hands all over you, his hips pressing forward slightly so you can feel how hard you make him, mouth on your neck as he whispers how badly he wants to touch you and make you feel good. How good he feels when he sees you completely undone for him, quivering and wholly satisfied, and he knows he’s taken care of you, his ‘best, favorite, and only girl.’

You rock back, seeking more pressure. “More, B,” you whimper finally, and he groans happily while he rubs against you. His hands are still wandering, but with purpose now, and you can feel just how hard he really is. You realize he didn’t have any intention of finding something to watch either.

“Shit, Brendon,” you murmur, working your hips back for a moment before just deciding to turn over and face him. You can’t help it; you cling to him, face buried in his neck, and start pressing yourself along his length, getting lost in the feeling. “You feel good.”

He props himself up on one arm and nibbles a light path along the shell of your ear. “I should be saying that to you, sweet baby, the way you’re rubbing your pussy all over me. Fucking love my sweet girl and how she grinds on my dick, silently begging to get fucked, showing me how badly she needs me, how wet she is for me,” he whispers, nuzzling your neck before inhaling. “Mmmm, you smell good too.”

You grin, hitching a leg over his hip and pushing forward for more. “Thanks, B. I showered this morning.”

He rolls his eyes and pokes you gently in the side. “Yes, I know, love. I was there, remember?”

You sigh happily at the memory of his hard, silicone-lubed cock filling you over and over again as he pressed you into the shower wall with your hands pinned over your head; he grabs at your ass now and pulls you into him, taking over the lazy thrusting you’ve started and giving it a sense of urgency. He knows just how to hold you and just how to angle his hips to ensure that he presses the head of his cock right against your clit before grinding his entire length into you with firm, purposeful strokes; you whisper how much you love it, and he shifts you underneath him and spreads your legs wider.

You’re sure you’re wet enough that you’ve soaked through your underwear and onto his sweatpants, and as much as you love the tease of your fiancé’s thick cock pressing into you through two layers of fabric, you guide his hand down. You need more from him, and he happily takes the hint.

“Fuck,” Brendon groans, sliding your underwear to one side and trailing his fingers through slick heat. “Babygirl, you’re so damn wet. You’d think I’d be used to that by now, but goddamn, if it isn’t the hottest thing. Always so fucking sexy. Can I have you, sweet girl?”

When you nod eagerly, he kisses you deeply, murmuring against your mouth, “Kitten, I’m gonna make it so good for you.”

You shiver in pleasure at the terms of endearment; ‘Babygirl’ is one that he knows makes you squirm out of your panties if you’re even wearing them, and he only calls you ‘Kitten’ when he plans to absolutely ravish you. The combination now is sending your mind to new levels of arousal. He’s always the best you've ever had, always mind-blowingly good, but something about him using both just takes it up another level.

You just know you’re going to thrash and squeal as you come hard on his cock or his fingers or his face. You particularly love coming on his face; you love feeling his eager tongue collect everything he’s coaxed from you, thumbs keeping you spread so he can really taste you as you rock your wet pussy over his face.

Now, Brendon’s fingers slide over you again, teasing and stroking while his lips move down your neck. You desperately want his fingers to go deeper. When you squirm down into his hand, he grins at you.

“Naughty Kitten, trying to get my fingers in her wet cunt.” You both feel the surge of arousal against his fingers, and he groans. “Fucking love how you respond to my mouth, sweet girl.”

“Technically,” you manage, still rolling your hips, “I was responding to your words.”

“Ah, yes,” Brendon concedes. “But if I were to slide down this couch...” he pauses to work his way down so his head is resting between your hips. “Get you out of these wet panties, and eat this gorgeous pussy, then you’d be reacting to my mouth.” He’s worked your underwear down your legs as he’s been talking and, once he concludes his thought, he buries his face in between your thighs.

“Fuck!” You grab at his hair and grind back against his tongue eagerly. “Shit, that’s so good; fuck, Brendon—don’t stop, don’t stop!” Your thighs clench around his head, and you’re breathing hard; you can feel your orgasm building.

Brendon groans happily before his tongue flicks at your clit, but then he’s pulling back, pulling away. He kneels between your legs, breathing hard and staring down at you longingly. “Fucking love your pussy. Love you, babygirl. Love getting you riding my tongue; the way you grab my hair and fuck my mouth by grinding all over me, letting me taste all of you as you come on my face. Do it, Kitten. Do it for me; give me all this sweetness. Let me get my mouth back on your perfect cunt, then you can rub your pussy against my tongue while I finger you. Fuck, want you to soak my face; come hard, sweet girl.”

You whimper at his words, and you know he doesn’t want you to come until he’s licking your clit again, tasting you. You can’t help it though; his words are almost as good as his tongue. Your back arches, and you can feel your orgasm rip through you. There’s a ringing in your ears, but you can still hear him swear with happy disbelief at how hard you’ve just come, and without him even touching you.

You’re shaking now, and you can feel the slickness all over your thighs and the couch under you. He’s watching you in awe, thumbs pressing into your hips, and you make a small sound of pleasure that makes his cock twitch.

Transfixed, Brendon dips two fingers between your thighs and lifts them to his mouth, licking slowly. He groans, and you whine, wriggling in place as he sucks them clean. Unable to resist, he presses his tongue to your clit, and you sigh happily when you feel him.

“Fuck, Kitten…” he murmurs with a slick, shining mouth when he finally pulls back, gazing up at you through dreamy, heavy eyes. “All this, just from my words?” You’re breathing hard and nodding, and Brendon takes a shaky breath, running a hand through his hair. “Goddamn, that’s so hot. You’re so hot. So fucking sexy. That’s—fuck, incredible.”

“You make me wild,” you offer weakly, laughing a little at how much of an understatement that is.

He’s still staring at you, licking his fingers contentedly. “Kitten, we’ve been together so long. How have I never known that I can make you do…this?”

You shrug as best you can from your prone position. “Not sure. I’ve definitely come from you talking before though. Maybe this is the first time it’s happened where you haven’t been actively touching me too? You know I love the dirty talk. I’ve always said that.” You blush a little, and Brendon grins, acknowledging this.

Gently, his hands spread your legs again, and you eagerly guide his head back where you need him. “So fucking hot, seeing you come like that,” he murmurs against your inner thigh. “Fucking love it; love that I can get you off just by telling you what I want to do with you. Wanna make you come again. Love you so much. Yeah, Kitten, get me right where you want me; grind your wet pussy down on my tongue and ride it, baby. Give me everything you’ve got; you know I want to eat you out ‘til you can’t come anymore. God, you sound so pretty, getting off on my tongue. You’re such a good girl for me; my best girl is going to come on my face, isn’t she?”

You’re making soft, desperate sounds as you thread your fingers through his hair. You’re close again, just from hearing him talk like this. He loves when you pull his hair while you rub your clit on his tongue, and he’s happy to assist now by creating a tiny rolling sensation and pressing two fingers to your entrance.

His tongue disappears after a moment though, and you gasp at the loss while his fingers press a little harder. “Wish I could fill you with my cock and lick your clit at the same time, baby. Know you’d come so hard; know you’d soak on my face and my cock. Fuck, I’d love that. Get my girl’s slick sweetness all over me, everywhere. Let me drown in your cunt. Can you imagine? I’d come on the spot, feeling you on my face and cock at the same time. You’d lose your mind with my cock filling you up while my tongue works your clit in soft circles. You’d love that too and come so hard for me, wouldn’t you?”

All you can do is whimper your agreement; he sucks gently at your clit now, relishing your reaction and gazing up at you adoringly. “The only scenario I can think of that allows you to get fucked and licked at the same time,” Brendon murmurs thoughtfully, “is a threesome, but that’s not happening. And besides, there’s the logistical issues. Who would get the privilege of suckling my baby’s perfect clit? Who’d get the absolute bliss that comes from feeling your sweet cunt take every inch of their hard cock? Doesn’t actually matter though; I don't share my good girl, my pretty Kitten now, and I’m certainly not going to start after we’re married.”

You know they were rhetorical questions, but you answer anyway. “Only you get me. I only ever want you, Bren.” You’re wiggling your hips and searching for his tongue or fingers. “Give it to me. Need your mouth. Need your cock. Give me something; make me come for you again.”

“God, you know I want to. You know nothing makes me happier than feeling your pussy tense against my mouth or around my cock before I get your sweetness all over me. Shit, I wanna make you come again. Can you come for me one more time, babygirl?”

“I can,” you tell him desperately. “Just need —fuck—you to lick my clit and give me two fingers. I’ll imagine it’s your thick cock filling me up, fucking me hard. Pull my hair a little, call me your slut for wanting your cock so desperately, then call me your best girl when I come from your touch, your fingers. Or just fuck me; B, you can fuck me any way you want, and I’ll come on your cock.”

“You know I want to,” Brendon repeats, caressing your face, though he looks like he’s just realized something, and he’s disappointed by it. “But if I fuck you the way I want to fuck you, we’ll be late.”

You blink, processing this.

“Dinner, Kitten. With your parents? We probably need to go get ready. We definitely need another shower; we both smell like sex. You’ve got sex hair, my love; the result of writhing around on our couch humping my face, and, therefore, my face is absolutely covered in you. I love it, but your parents might not.”

“Fuck.”

“No, babygirl, fucking is exactly what we can’t do,” Brendon says playfully, pushing himself upright and off of the couch. Once he’s standing, he adjusts his cock, so the waistband of his sweatpants presses the head to his stomach.

You have a sudden urge to lick the shining beads of precum at the tip; you shift onto your knees on the couch, tugging him forward and wrapping your mouth around the exposed head of his cock. He groans, hands immediately going to your hair to guide your mouth even lower while you shove his pants down. He swears under his breath, thrusting into your mouth, and you’re pretty sure he’s going to give up on the idea of showering.

You suck eagerly, head bobbing and tongue stroking his length. You increase the tension around his cock; you’re sucking so hard that you’re hollowing out your cheeks, and he’s breathing slowly, trying to keep in control.

“Fuck, Kitten; you’re gonna suck me dry,” Brendon manages with a short laugh, grunting when you swallow him fully and cup his balls in one hand; you’re rolling and squeezing lightly the way he loves.

“Shit, that’s good. Suck my cock like a good girl, suck it like my favorite slut who’s wild for my cock, honey; you’ve got the best fucking mouth. Such a good girl, such a slutty girl, you’re my best girl. Best girl,” he pants, rocking his hips a little. “Taking all of my cock like this in your mouth. You deserve to come so hard, Kitten. But—shit—we just don’t have the time.” You can hear the regret in his voice, and you sit back, wiping at your mouth.

“Hell, just keep talking while I blow you then. You know I can come from your dirty talk now, and I’m always at least halfway to coming when I’ve got your cock in my mouth.” You’re a little desperate, dropping your mouth back down the length of his cock and grinning to yourself when he groans your name.

Instead of succumbing to your methods though, he tugs his sweatpants up, effectively lifting your mouth off of him, and scoops you into his arms. “Kitten, we’ve really gotta go upstairs and get ready.”

You cling to him as he heads for the stairs. As he walks, you press gentle kisses down his neck and keep trying to grind against his cock. “Fuck me,” you beg, and he laughs softly.

“Kitten, I said no.” He nips at your shoulder delicately, and you whine, scratching at his back. You normally love when he’s bossy, love when he’s dominant and in control, but that’s when it’s in the form of him tying you down to your bed, or spanking you, or holding your head while you suck his cock so he can fuck your mouth. Now, you’re just frustrated.

“Please, B?”

When he hesitates, you know you’re wearing him down. You caress his back, pressing more soft, open-mouthed kisses down his neck. He groans, and you can feel his cock throb. You tug at his hair, and he stops walking upstairs; you assume it’s to compose himself.

Instead, he presses you against the wall of the stairwell and kisses you roughly. You moan into his mouth and buck against his cock. “Fucking love you. We can make out in the shower,” Brendon concedes, giving you a small grin. “My naughty baby, begging.”

“I’ll take what I can get,” you tell him happily, tangling your hands in his hair and kissing him hard. “I’d prefer to get your cock, or your tongue, or your fingers, but if all you’ll give me is a hot and steamy make out session in the shower, I’ll take it.”

-||-

“God, you look so damn good soaking wet,” Brendon murmurs, leaning back against the shower wall and stroking a conditioner-covered hand over his cock. “Wish I could take the time now to fuck you like you deserve to be fucked.”

“Oh, is that the excuse you’re using?” You raise an eyebrow as you rinse the shampoo from your hair. “That we’re not fucking right now because it’d be rushed, and I deserve better than that?”

Brendon laughs, stepping under the water with you and kissing you sweetly. “Yes, Kitten. That’s the ‘excuse’ I’m going with. Trust me, I do plan to fuck you once we’re home and have nothing but time.”

You huff, nibbling at his lower lip. “Maybe I don’t wanna get fucked when we get home.” You’re obviously kidding, or at least you think you’re being obvious. Instead, Brendon takes a step back.

“Oh, okay. Got it. No fucking.” He slides the glass door of the shower back, stepping out and reaching for a towel. He wraps the towel around his waist and walks out of the bathroom with his hands raised in surrender and an amused smile.

“Wait, don’t go! I was teasing! Bren—come back! We barely made out!” You call after him desperately. “Bren?! I’m owed more kisses!”

There’s been no resolution to your banter, but that smile of his tells you that he knows the truth; he knows how badly you want him. If that’s the case, you’re afraid his teasing as retaliation will only get worse. “Shower, Kitten,” he calls back, laughing. “I’ve got to get dressed.”

-||-

You’re sitting in front of your vanity, carefully lining your lips when Brendon comes into the room in very tight pants and an unbuttoned shirt. He’s got a tie in one hand and a pair of suspenders in the other, and he leans against the wall, watching you in your mirror. “Here’s my dilemma, Kitten. This dinner is definitely jacket and tie level, but I really want to do suspenders and a bow tie, which are more casual. Can I get away with it?”

You pause, looking at him in the mirror, and you have to catch your breath. “Uh. I don’t know. You booked the reservation. I don’t…I don’t know. Wait—what was the question?”

You can’t focus when he’s half-undressed like this. With his still-damp hair, flushed skin, and undone shirt, he looks like he does after a show, and you’ve always found him particularly irresistible then. He must know this; you were with him for his entire tour that ended just two weeks ago—most nights, you couldn’t even make it to the bus or hotel room.

Instead, you would drag him into his dressing room, bend over the vanity, and lift your skirt or shove your leggings down. The last month of the tour, you didn’t even bother with underwear.

Brendon would drop to his knees behind you and eat you out eagerly, noisily, messily, groaning into you that you’d better be watching yourself in the mirror to ‘see how good you look with a tongue and two fingers deep in your cunt.’ Between his talented tongue, two fingers flexing and curling in you, and his other hand gripping your ass or occasionally giving you a hard spank while he ate you out, you always came fast, hard, and hot all over his face and fingers.

He’d insist on making you come at least twice before he stood back up and fucked you with your hands braced against the mirror; it was rough and urgent, and you were both incredibly loud. You couldn’t make any sound on the bus, and there weren’t nearly enough hotel nights, so you both took full advantage of each private dressing room. The rooms weren’t completely soundproofed, but they did have locking doors, which was a step up from bus bunks.

You shiver at the memory of Brendon’s hand on your hip and the other tangled in your hair as he thrust into you at a frantic pace; the memory of his groans as they echoed down the hall, that he was going to come once you came all over his cock, going to fill his best girl up with his cum, going to give it all to her, going to come in her wet cunt and fuck her through it all.

Or, sometimes, he’d let you shove him down onto the couch and ride him fast and hard, both of you scratching and clawing at each other desperately until you fell apart for him. As much as you loved seeing yourself get eaten out, you also loved the look on his face when you rode him.

He’s never liked to make you do any work; however, you know that sometimes after a show, he’s tired and just needs his girl on his cock, bouncing and riding and rocking, driving him wild. You’d get him close before getting on your knees in front of him and lifting, pressing your breasts together so he could jack off and come all over them. You’d more than happily swallow for him, but he loved the visual of his cum dripping into your cleavage. You loved it too.

You consider going over to him now, shoving his shirt all the way off, tugging his pants down, and making him fuck you against the wall. The only reason you don’t is because you’re pretty sure he knows this is exactly what you’re thinking, and he’ll find a way to resist and tease you more. Instead, you give him your most wide-eyed, sad stare. “Why are you punishing me?”

“Oh Kitten, this isn’t a punishment.” He stands behind you now, warm hands rubbing your shoulders and thumbs pressing carefully into your neck the way you love.

“Isn’t it, though? You’re teasing me, still calling me Kitten, even now that you know I could come from the shit you’re saying. And I definitely could, but it wouldn’t be as satisfying as actually getting you.”

Instead of responding, Brendon looks thoughtful. “Speaking of me: back to my dress code question. Personally, I want to go with suspenders because it’ll give you something to hold onto when I’m kneeling between your legs, licking your clit.”

You flush, lip pencil trembling a little.

“But,” he continues, “if I go with the jacket and tie, I’ll be able to bind your wrists behind your back when you’re blowing me in the back of the car later. Know how much you love that. I love it too, how you show off for me, taking all of me in your mouth, no hands. My dirty Kitten is a bit of a performer too, isn’t she? She loves hearing me praise her when she sucks my cock.” He looks back at you, an eyebrow raised. “So, what do you think?”

You can’t speak, lips parted slightly, and he nods. “No, you’re absolutely right. It actually doesn’t matter what I wear, because you don’t want to get fucked. So, I might as well do what I like. Why not both? I’ll wear the suspenders under my jacket with the tie. Such a good point, my love.”

He presses a kiss to the top of your head and walks into the closet to retrieve a jacket; you gasp for air, realizing you’ve forgotten to breathe. “Fuck,” you whisper, staring at yourself in the mirror. “Fuck.” With shaking hands, you go to finish your makeup before he can distract you again. He’s never teased you like this before, but now you both know you can only take so much of his dirty talk before you come. You’re a little afraid of how far he’s going to take this.

Brendon comes back out, and you glance up. He’s holding two black dresses. “I think you should wear one of these. This one,” he indicates the dress on the left, “is short enough that I could finger you in the car on the way there. But this one,” he shakes the dress on the right, “is a wrap dress, which means if we needed to pull over for a quickie, it’d be easy to get off—just like you, m’dear.” He grins a little at the double entendre, and you groan. “Oh, but we won’t need to, that’s right. Sorry Kitten, I’m used to planning our wardrobe around our mutually high sex drives. Guess it doesn’t matter tonight though.” He hangs up the wrap dress on the door along with his jacket and winks at you.

He then bounds over to the bed, laying across it on his stomach, watching you. “Damn baby, you’re so fucking pretty. I love watching you get ready. It’s so satisfying, knowing I’m going to be the one to mess up that lipstick when you get down on your knees for me and I fuck your mouth. You suck my dick so good; there won’t be a bit of that color left on your pretty lips. It’ll all be smeared along my cock. You want it, Kitten? Want me to slide this thick cock over your tongue, thrusting slowly until I come in your mouth? You want to swallow for me, baby? Or maybe I’ll just come on your tongue. You want to watch me stroke my cock until I come on your tongue? You can let it drip onto your chin and down to your perfect tits. God, I fucking need to get my cock in you. You doing your makeup is the adult version of building a Jenga tower; both of us know I’m going to knock it down. Fuck, I love wrecking you.”

His tone is neutral, level, and there’s not a hint of desire in him—except for his eyes. His eyes are dark and burning, and you shiver a little when they meet yours.

“Brendon Urie, you are being a tease on purpose,” you hiss, trying to steady your breathing so you can apply mascara.

He ignores your comment and focuses on the wand in your hand. “Jesus, and don’t even get me started on the rest of your makeup. ‘Better than Sex,’ my ass. TooFaced has never seen us in action. You look so good when we go out, but after I get you home and in bed, everything about your face would tell people how good I fucked you. Mascara smudged, lipstick worn away, foundation missing from all the marks on your jawline that remind others you’re mine. TooFaced would need to rebrand after seeing you when we’re done. Don’t get me wrong, you still look fucking sexy as hell, but it’s definitely not because of your mascara.”

You squirm a little in your chair, feeling how wet you are, and whimper a little. “Brendon, please,” you whisper, and he grins.

“You’re begging already? I haven’t even touched you, babygirl.” You glare at him, and he keeps grinning. “Ready to go?” You rise from your seat at the vanity and drop your robe. You can tease too, you reason in your head. You’re sure he can see the shining on your inner thighs and how hard your nipples are. You’re right. With a determined look in his eyes, he gets off the bed and crosses to you.

With one hand tangled in your hair and the other between your thighs, he backs you up against the wall, pressing hot kisses down your neck. “Fuck, Kitten. You are so ready for me,” he murmurs as his fingers curl and press right where you want him. “You want my cock, pretty girl? Love you on my cock; love sucking and licking and pinching your nipples while you fuck yourself onto my cock. Tell me you want it; you know I love to hear you.” His fingers spread a bit, and you gasp how much you want it, how much you hope he’s getting you ready to take all of him.

His fingers curl again before slipping from you; it doesn’t last long enough to push you over the edge, and you gasp and clutch at him, trying to find any words while you lift a leg up over his hip. Instead, he presses a hand lightly to your hip, keeping you in place.

“I know you want to get fucked right now. You want me to shove my pants down, lift you up, and bounce you on my cock til you come. You’re so goddamn sexy; I love you so much. You want to be on this thick cock, sweet girl? Fuck, I’d take you against this wall, let you bite and scratch at me while I work my cock deeper and deeper into your cunt until neither of us can take it and you come all over me while I come in you. You want that? You want to get filled with my cum, Kitten? Love that little whimper you make when you feel my cum deep in you. Love watching it drip down your thighs after I’ve come in you, given you everything. So dirty, but I fucking love seeing you covered in my cum. Love coming all over you, but love coming in you most.”

You buck against him, begging, and he kisses you hard, murmuring against your mouth how needy you are. You nod, and he groans a little, stroking your cheek. “Maybe my needy Kitten wants me to turn her around, press her into this wall or drag her to bed and get her on her hands and knees. Damn, babygirl,” Brendon moans, burying his face in your neck, “if you were on your hands and knees right now, you know I’d fuck you from behind, one hand pulling your hair and the other rubbing your clit. Whisper in your ear how slutty you’re being. You love when I call you a slut while you’re on your hands and knees for me, when all you can feel is my thick cock pounding into your slutty cunt before I come in you, don’t you?” You both groan and you nod as best you can.

Brendon tugs at your hair lightly, continuing. “Yeah, I know you love when I call you my perfect slut while you take my cock from behind. Be my best slut and beg me for every inch of this big, thick cock.”

Brendon’s always so indulgent of you, and you love him for it. He was admittedly amused the first time you said you wanted to hear him call himself ‘big.’ He conceded ‘thick’ with a small groan as you wrapped your hand around him and stroked eagerly, but he told you that he just couldn’t see ‘big.’

However, when you told him it was all a matter of perspective and made him compare the length of two fingers to his cock, he understood your point. You know he’ll never believe it himself, but he knows why you think it, and he loves your reaction, so he says it when he wants you particularly hot for him.

Now, hearing it, you whine desperately like he wants, wishing his fingers were still teasing your clit or curling inside you. You’re so fucking close.

He spins you around and you eagerly press yourself against the wall, dipping your back and lifting your hips so he can fill you easily. His hand in your hair guides your head back gently, and you know he wants you to say it.

“Give me that big, thick cock, Bren; fuck me, please fuck your slut, I’m your slut,” you plead, and you hear the rasp of his zipper coming down. That sound alone has you on the edge of coming. Your breath catches in your throat, but instead of thrusting into you, he starts rubbing the hard length of his cock against the curve of your ass. With your head tilted back like this, he can whisper right in your ear.

“You are my slut, and I know you’d take it so good, Kitten; you know this big cock is all for you and you know I want to give it to you.” He tugs lightly at your hair, just enough to make your stomach clench. “Want to feel your hot cunt squeeze my cock, get you to come all over me before you get down on your knees and suck my cock. You’ll swallow for me when you make me come, won’t you, babygirl? Know you love tasting us together.”

“Please,” you whimper, biting at your arm to try to temper your lust. You can feel your arousal all over your thighs, and you know you’re dangerously close to coming. If the words ‘big’ or ‘thick’ leave his mouth or he pulls your hair one more time, then you know you’re going to come. You won’t be able to stop yourself.

“Fuck, Kitten. You know I love when you’re this wet for me, this ready for my cock.” His fingers trace along your inner thighs and you whimper; it’s enough, and you writhe in his grasp, breathing hard, back arching, hips bucking, and body trembling as wet heat rolls down your thighs and over his fingers. Brendon turns you around once more and presses your back against the wall; you know from the look on his face that he knows he’s just made you come again, and all he wants is to drop to his knees and bury his face in your pussy.

Instead, he rests his forehead against yours and takes a shaky breath. The desire is positively rolling off of him. His next words are calculatedly casual; you appreciate knowing he’s struggling with this tease too. “But that’s not what I meant by ‘ready to go,’ unfortunately.” Stretching a bit toward the top of his dresser, he plucks a tissue from the box and wipes lazily between your legs. “What I meant was we need to get you dressed, so you’re ready to go to dinner.”

Your eyes narrow and he chuckles as you stomp over to your dresser and throw on a bra and underwear. You’re fastening your bra when you hear his zipper slide back up into place, and you whine, slumping over on the bed to shove your feet into the shoes he’s set out for you.

“Come here, my love; don’t pout. You must know that I have plans for you later.” His voice is soothing, and you allow him to coax you over to him once you’ve got your heels on. You slip your arms into the dress he’s holding, and he wraps it, dropping to his knees and tying it as he presses a kiss to your inner thigh, lips parting and tongue teasing as his mouth moves upwards.

You moan a little, and Brendon smiles up at you. “You like this, babygirl? Me down on my knees for you?” You nod weakly, and he kisses your thigh again, suckling gently and leaving a faint mark. “I do too. Can still taste your sweetness all over your thighs. So worked up for me, fuck. Got me so worked up too. You going to let me take you to our bed later, pretty girl? Show you just how much I love eating your sweet pussy? You know I love tasting you before I fuck you.”

You don’t need to answer; he knows. You nod anyway.

“Love that,” he murmurs, standing back up and caressing your face tenderly. “You’re always my best girl. My favorite girl. You’re my only girl,” he says with a small smile, “but still my best, favorite girl. So good for me, so good to me; you’re my sweet baby, my babygirl.” He’s giving you the softest, most reverent look as he murmurs, “my forever love, my precious Kitten, and my future wife.”

You feel your knees give out and as you crumble, both of his hands grab your hips, supporting you while your hands clutch at his shoulders.

“No, sweet baby; you can’t be hitting the floor for me just yet.” Brendon’s fingers flex possessively, and you can see the hunger in his eyes. “We have to have a nice dinner with your parents. Then we can play as much as you want.”

You whimper internally, not sure that you’ll make it through dinner at this rate, and you dig your fingers into his shoulders. Still, you have to try.

“Take me to dinner, Brendon.” You steady yourself and he pulls you flush against him, lips just barely brushing over yours. You lean in, desperate for him, and he leans back, just barely evading you with a smile. “Tease,” you murmur.

“You love it,” he retorts with a smug grin before leading you out of the house.

-||-

“Brendon,” you laugh, putting a hand over your mouth. “Why on earth did you get a limo?”

He shrugs as you both slide into the back of the waiting car. “I sent one to the airport for your parents; figured my sweetest, best girl deserved one too.” He holds out an arm to you, and you snuggle into his side, mumbling about the unnecessary expense.

He kisses your temple lightly. “You were an absolute angel and came with me for the entirety of my tour because I needed you. It was a successful tour because I had you with me. This is a very nice dinner to celebrate the end of said tour with you—my beautiful fiancée—and my future in-laws. Why shouldn’t I spend the money?” He raises an eyebrow as if he’s expecting an answer, and you shrug helplessly.

“I guess I just don’t want you to think I expect this sort of thing. I love you. Not the fancy shit.”

“And I love you,” Brendon replies, caressing your cheek and brushing his lips over yours. “And you were more than a good sport about essentially living on an overcrowded tour bus for many months, so let me spoil you a little with some ‘fancy shit.’ Besides,” and his voice drops, “it would be dangerous to fuck you or let you ride my cock in the back of a regular car.”

“Don’t start teasing me again,” you whimper, twisting in your seat to cling to him with both arms. “I cannot take it.”

He laughs, scooping you up so you’re sitting in his lap and facing him as he presses the button to raise the partition. “I’m not teasing you, love. It’s true that I can’t kiss you the way I really want until after dinner because it will ruin your pretty lipstick, and you can’t grind your sweet pussy against my cock until after dinner because we’ll both come from that, but if you think I’m not gonna have you as an appetizer, you’re very mistaken.”

“Appetizer?”

You can hear the tremble of longing in your voice, and he smiles, stroking your hair with one hand and your thigh with the other, since your dress has fallen open from the way you’re straddling him.

“Admittedly, it doesn’t seem like a great plan…mostly because I don’t think I’ll be able to stop. Goddamn, if your pussy isn’t a five-course meal, I don’t know what is. And we both know after I get you rubbing your wet cunt on my mouth and tongue, all over my face, I need it on my cock.”

“Brendon…” you whimper, closing your eyes. There’s a coiling in your stomach that’s been building, tightening with every stroke of his fingers along your thigh. “Bren, you’re seriously going to make me come if you don’t stop talking.”

You can practically feel his soft tongue lapping between your legs at your clit, and your brain feels like a bag of Pop Rocks has been dumped on it.

He keeps talking. “Honey, I could live and die with my tongue in your pussy. My god. You don’t even know. Jesus, the number of times I catch myself just daydreaming about pushing you down into bed or onto the couch, tugging your clothes off and burying my face in you. Like when we were on tour, and you knew how goddamn badly I needed you, so you would just bend over the vanity and wait for me, for my tongue, my fingers, my cock. Fuck, eating you out, grabbing your thighs, pressing closer, working my whole mouth over you until I just had to hear your happy squeal from my fingers fucking you. Shit, babygirl, I’m always fantasizing about that gorgeous pink slickness, luring me in. Begging to be touched. Licked. Stroked. Caressed.”

“Bren, I’m gonna—”

“Such sweet softness, surrounding my tongue and holy fuck; just the taste of you gets me hard. Shit, you’re the best. Kitten, I don’t think you understand how addicted I am.”

“Brendon, please, you don’t understand—I’m clo—”

“The taste, but also how it feels to have you move against me. Feeling you roll your hips in my hands, rubbing your pussy all over my mouth. Sometimes right when you’re getting close, you grab my hair and rock so the tip of my nose presses against your clit—”

“Brendon, I’m fucking close right now; you need to stop talking, or I’m gonna—”

“—while my tongue goes deep. Fuck, the way you thrash and squeal, grabbing my head, riding my tongue, coming on my face, gasping my name; it’s heaven, Kitten. Hearing, feeling, tasting you like that, knowing I made my best girl, my love, feel that damn good, it gets me so fucking ha—are you okay, sweetness?”

You’re breathing shakily, swearing under your breath, hand clenching his on your trembling thigh, and your head is tipped back with your eyes shut. He must have figured it out though, because he sounds delighted when he murmurs, “Kitten, again?”

“Shut. Up.” The words leave your mouth in a sharp hiss. You take his hand, the one on your thigh, and slip it between your legs. His breath catches when he feels your pussy, wet and quivering post-orgasm, and you glare at him. “Don't even try to act surprised, Urie. You knew exactly what you were doing.”

His face is a mixture of arousal and amusement. “Shit, baby. I don’t even know what to say.”

You shoot him a dirty look. “An apology would be a great place to start. And then I would say nothing else for a while since that’s what got us here.”

“Right, but I’m not sorry though.” He’s stroking a thumb over your cheek and lips as he says this, and you bite his thumb. His eyes darken, and you know he’s enjoying the sensation. You relent, internally cursing his proclivity for pain, and he continues.

“I mean, obviously I’m sad that you’re upset with me, but that’s not an apology; that’s putting it all on you, and that’s not fair. But no, to apologize sincerely, I would have to be sorry for the things I said, and I’m not. I regret none of them. I stand by every word that came out of my mouth. You could read everything I said in a court of law, and I wouldn’t deny any of it.”

You huff, crossing your arms.

“And further,” Brendon continues, “it continues to be so fucking hot. I’m really not sorry at all. Please don’t be mad, babygirl. Though please, feel free to bite me again; you know I love that.” You roll your eyes while he presses chaste kisses to your neck. It’s when he starts nuzzling you affectionately that you feel your resolve weaken.

“I’m not mad, B. I’m more embarrassed than anything else.” It’s not entirely true, but he’s being so sweet, and his mouth feels so good on your neck and you’re weak for him. This comment makes him pull back though, and he really looks stunned.

“Baby, no! Don’t be embarrassed! Kitten, sweetheart, please don’t be embarrassed. I think it’s so hot, so sexy.” He’s cupping your face in both hands now and looking at you earnestly. “You have nothing to be embarrassed about. I promise.”

“Still,” you whimper. “You know I love you more than anything, but please, don’t take advantage of this…new discovery.”

“I’ll behave, sweet girl. Are we okay?” You nod, and he gives you a light, sweet kiss. When he pulls back, he murmurs, “Now let’s go enjoy dinner with your parents.”

You stand up, and when he moves to follow, you hold up one hand. “Hang on. I can’t wear these all night.” You wriggle out of your wet underwear and tuck it into his pocket, settling back down in his lap. You’re fully aware you’re most likely staining his pants, but they’re dark, and you don’t actually care right now. “Your prize, sir.” He uses two fingers to push them deeper into his coat pocket and groans when he feels how wet they are. You can feel his cock twitch under you, and you’re weak again, flush against him.

Brendon has to lift you up and out of his lap, and you can see the reluctance in his eyes. Once he’s placed you gently to the side, you have a mental image of spreading your legs, tangling a hand in his hair, and guiding his mouth right where you both want it most. Your wrap dress has fallen open, and your underwear is already in his pocket; it would be so easy. He’d be so eager: pressing his face closer, grabbing at your thighs and hips, working his tongue over your clit, groaning into you as you hold his head with both hands and grind down on his mouth.

He shifts a little, and you think for one moment about grabbing him by the tie and pulling him on top of you, but you know you can’t. Instead, he stands and opens the limo door, stepping out before reaching back in to take your hand. You let him help you out and pause to look at him softly. “I love you, Bren.”

He smiles back at you radiantly. “I love you too, sweet baby. Come here.” He pulls you to him and kisses you deeply, hands caressing your hips as his tongue explores your mouth. You respond eagerly at first, but after a moment, you regretfully put both hands on his chest and push yourself back and away from him.

You look at him seriously. “We need to behave. You need to behave.” You give him an expectant look, and he nods, holding up three fingers, scout’s honor style. You smile, and he grins, flipping them around and crooking them toward himself while flicking his tongue at you suggestively.

“Fuck,” you groan, flailing a hand at him. “Don’t do that. You cannot do that. Behave.” Brendon just laughs, guiding you into the restaurant with a hand stroking the small of your back.

-||-

Dinner, all things considered, is going well. Brendon has only had to step away once to take a call, and your parents are relaxed and laughing now as the two of you recap some of your more parent-appropriate tour stories.

You’re curled into his side in the booth, and he’s got an arm wrapped around you while the other moves between his bourbon glass and your hand on the table. He strokes the diamond of your ring with his thumb idly while chatting with your parents, and you couldn’t be happier.

You're all halfway through your appetizers and your mom has gone to the bathroom when Brendon and your dad start comparing the steaks they’ve ordered. “Medium-rare is the way to go,” Brendon murmurs, with the arm once around your waist now resting between you so a surreptitious hand can caress your upper thigh under the table. “Such gorgeous pink tenderness; every bite, every taste lures me back for more. God, I would live and die in a steak like that.”

Your eyes widen and you kick him lightly. Even if his wording now is only coincidentally similar to his earlier musings on your pussy, it’s too close for comfort. As a response to your kick, his fingers slip between your legs and move steadily higher. Your head is spinning a little, and you can’t believe how composed he is, practically fingering you in front of your parents. You squeeze your thighs together; his hand can’t move any higher. Still, he finds an advantage when he stretches out two fingers and manages to rub at your clit.

“Stop it,” you hiss while your father is distracted by the server bringing a refill, and Brendon smiles at you innocently as he starts running a foot up your calf. Your dad notices none of this as he turns back and tries to explain to Brendon why medium is a better choice; you’re dying slowly.

Brendon picks up his bourbon glass and takes a sip that’s slightly too big, causing a drop to linger on his lower lip. He turns and meets your eyes as the tip of his tongue darts out to swipe his lip clean.

You’re genuinely afraid you’re going to break a nail from how you’re digging your fingers into his thigh.

He leans in close, nose brushing your ear, and whispers, “Babygirl, you know I like the pain.” He winks as he pulls back, and you close your eyes, willing your arousal away.

Brendon turns suddenly to your father. “Jack, I’m so sorry, I don’t mean to be rude—my phone died—sweet girl, will you see if Zack has sent you any updates on our flight for tomorrow morning? When we spoke earlier, I told him to text you if my phone died, and it has.”

Your dad is interested and asks where you’re both headed so, fortunately for Brendon, he doesn’t see the confusion in your eyes. You don’t think you two have any travel scheduled tomorrow. It’s the first you’re hearing about it anyway.

Brendon starts talking extensively about scouting locations for an upcoming video while he takes advantage of your slightly parted legs—his fingers curve possessively over your upper thigh, flexing a little the way you love.

You’re almost positive there’s no travel tomorrow but Brendon sounds so convincing and you’re curious, so you pull out your phone. You feel your eyes narrow when you see—not a text from Zack, but—several messages from Brendon. You realize he wasn’t taking a call; he was texting you because he knew your phone was on Do Not Disturb. You open the messages with some trepidation.

Don’t be mad you know I love you and I just can’t help myself

You cut your eyes to Brendon and see him tacitly ignoring you as he continues to discuss video production with your father and mother, who has just returned. You continue reading, even though you’re sure it’s a bad idea, and you can feel your face flush and your body tense.

Loved having you in my lap in the car, babygirl

the way that wrap dress fell open and left you exposed for me was such a tease (I know I’m one to talk)

I can’t wait to lay you out on our bed and get my face in between your legs, really get your cunt all over me

Got you smeared on my pants, but you know I need that hot pussy all over my face and fingers and cock

Fuck, babygirl, I wanna lick and suck that gorgeous pussy until you’re coming on my face, begging for more

I want to get you so wet for me that I can touch you and I’ll be able to use your slickness like lube while I stroke this big thick cock for my best girl my slutty girl until I’m coming on your tits or your tongue

Goddamn I want to make you come so hard that we have to change the fucking sheets and

There’s more to that message and more texts from him below it, but you can’t read them; you can feel your orgasm rushing towards you and you cannot be at the table for that.

You scramble up from the booth. “I’ll be right back,” you whisper, and bolt for the bathroom. You can hear your parents exchange concerned comments, and then Brendon offers to go check on you. He’s not nearly in the rush that you are but he ends up in the secluded bathroom hallway moments after you.

He finds you leaning against the wall, trembling all over and chest heaving. Your eyes open, and you see him and that face and those lips and you are so close. “Urie, you fucking—”

He cuts you off by crushing his mouth over yours and sliding a hand inside your dress, rocking two fingers up into you. You cry out into his mouth, tugging at his hair, and he just kisses you harder, thrusting his fingers through your orgasm. “That’s it, Kitten; come for me, come on my fingers, think about coming on my cock, you’re such a good girl. Gonna lick these fingers clean later. Fuck, babygirl, I love you so much, I love feeling you come on me; shit, I can’t wait to get you on my face. Kneel over my mouth and ride my tongue while I stroke my cock, knowing I’m gonna fuck you so good, gonna fill you up with my cum; know you love feeling all of my hot cum deep in that sweet, slutty cunt.” He’s murmuring against your lips, and you moan as another rips through you.

His free hand is wrapped around your waist, holding you to him, and your fingers are tangled in his hair as you come down from your high.

His lips are pressed to your forehead, and you’re still trembling against him when you manage to speak. “That was mean.”

Brendon looks confused and you clarify. “Those texts. You knew exactly what you were doing.” He smirks a little and kisses you lightly on the lips. You talk through the embrace, pushing at his chest. “And I am not happy with you.”

“No?” He starts stroking you again with two spread fingers, grinning when you whimper. “You sound pretty happy. You sound like you always do when I’ve got my fingers buried in your pussy, getting you ready to take this thick cock.” He presses forward and rubs his erection against your thigh. You can’t help it; you moan.

“Yeah, babygirl, that’s all for you. Gonna give it to you so good.” You glare and push him away again; he holds up his free hand in surrender. “Or not. My bad. Should we head back to the table or—” Brendon falters when he sees the incredulous look on your face. “Or… am I taking you home now?”

You laugh humorlessly. “Home. We’re going home. You are going to go out there and make an excuse to my parents, take me home, get my order to go or get me food on the way home, and then you have some serious apologizing to do.”

His eyes light up. “Please tell me you mean something utterly filthy when you say ‘apologizing,’ because that’s exactly where my mind has gone.”

“Don’t even joke right now. I swear Brendon, you owe me a big apology. You promised you would behave. You promised you wouldn’t do this to me.”

You feel like you’re about to start crying, and he can tell, because he wraps you in both arms. You go limp against him, tears spilling over, and he holds you tightly, stroking your hair and kissing your forehead.

“Oh sweetheart. I’m so sorry. You’re right; I know, baby. I’m sorry for breaking my promise. I’m so sorry, my love.” His voice is soft, and even when you’re angry at him, you find it soothing and calming.

“Don’t worry, sweet baby; I’m going to take you home and take care of you. My sweet girl, my precious Kitten. I’m so sorry, love. Hang in there, and I’ll get you home. My best girl, my babygirl.”

You look like an absolute mess, so your parents don’t question the need for you to go home when you say you’re not feeling well. Brendon pays the bill and gets your food boxed up before guiding you out to the limo. Once you’re both settled on the bench seat, he opens his arms to you.

“Do you want me to hold you, sweet baby?”

You nod and crawl into his lap, clinging to him and pressing your face to his shoulder. His hands move gently over your back, and he’s being so sweet, whispering to you how sorry he is and brushing soft kisses over the top of your head. Even as you clutch at him, you can tell you’re still mad, and he can too. The tension hasn’t left your body.

Still, you want him holding you. You’ve both always said that your love is more than any other emotion. No matter how mad, how hurt, how frustrated either of you are, you will always love each other more. You know it’s true. You may not always like him, but you will always love him.

Once you’re home, he lifts you easily and makes his way out of the limo and heads to the door. You shriek and laugh a little; telling him you can walk, but Brendon scoffs playfully. “No sweetheart, you said you wanted me to hold you. So, I’m going to hold my girl.”

The process of getting into your house with you in his arms plus the food is a slow one, but Brendon manages it and never puts you down. You’re still wrapped around him, head on his shoulder and legs tight around his waist, and he nudges you gently. “Shower, love?” When you nod, he asks, “do you want me to shower with you?”

At this, you hesitate. Some time alone might be good. He can read your hesitation, but you can tell he doesn’t take it personally. He carries you to the bathroom, sets you on the counter, and turns the shower on. Then, after testing the water, he returns to you, kisses your forehead softly, and murmurs that he loves you, he’ll be downstairs, and you can come join him whenever you’re ready. You squeeze his hand as he leaves, and he squeezes back with a small smile.

The shower is hot and relaxing and everything you need it to be. When you finally get out and see he’s set out your favorite of his t-shirts for you and a pair of what you both call your ‘snuggling panties’ (because of their ultra-softness) on your bed, you’re feeling far more at ease.

You dress quickly and head downstairs to find him reclining on the couch in your favorite pair of his sweatpants. His hair is damp; he must’ve showered in the guest bathroom. “Damn, you’re sexy,” you comment, aiming for levity in your voice as you lean against the railing. He turns and grins, seeing you bare-legged with the hem of his shirt barely keeping you covered.

“Hello pot, I’m kettle.” He extends a hand and beckons you closer. You saunter over, dropping onto the couch and curling up on top of him, legs spread over his hips, your head on his chest. “I haven’t eaten yet,” he tells you. “Thought we’d eat together.” You nod, snuggling into him. “Are you hungry, babygirl?” You shake your head a little, breathing in the scent of his body wash. “Then let’s eat later,” he decides, stroking your hair.

You nod, and he kisses the top of your head. “I’m sorry I was mean and broke my promise,” he whispers, and you look up at him. You had some time to think in the shower, and you know he means it.

“It’s okay, B. I may have overreacted. There are worse things you could’ve done.” He frowns, running a finger down your cheek.

“Don’t say that honey. You were upset because I made you a promise that I didn’t keep, I pushed your boundaries further than you were comfortable with, and really, I betrayed your trust. You didn’t overreact.”

You smile a little, realizing he took the time to think in the shower too. You squirm up to kiss him softly now. “You’re being quite hard on yourself, my love. Here’s where I’ve landed, after some time alone with my thoughts. I always feel so close to you after you make me come, so intimately connected, and when you pushed and broke your promise, it made me feel like our sex life was just a game or something to you; like it was a challenge or entertainment.” Brendon goes to protest, and you press a gentle finger to his mouth. “But I know you, Brendon. I know you love me; I know how much our intimacy means to you, and I know how seriously you take our love and our life together. You would never purposely disrespect me or our intimacy. As soon as you realized how upset I was, you stopped and you took care of me, took care of us. You are a good man, Brendon Urie, and you are mine. Tonight wasn’t your finest moment, and it took you a bit longer than ideal to realize how serious I was, but you took care of me in the end, and you showed me how much you care. I love you. So, I’m good. Are you good? Are we?” He smiles, blinking back tears, rubbing his nose against yours.

“I’m good. We’re good, sweet baby. I love you so much.” He holds you close, and you sink into his arms. He strokes your hair, and you sigh happily. There’s a long moment, and then he asks in a low voice, “would now be a bad time to ask about my dirty apology?”

You raise an eyebrow, and he scoots you higher so he can kiss you deeply. You run your hands through his wet hair, tugging happily, and he groans into your mouth while rolling you both over. “You know,” he murmurs through kisses, “my dirty apology, where I show you how much our intimacy and your orgasms mean to me. How much I love being close to you like this.” His hands are roaming, and you grin against his mouth, telling him you’d love a dirty apology.

“Excellent,” Brendon mumbles, kissing a lazy path down your neck. “Now, where would Madame like her dirty apology?” He makes a sweeping gesture with his hand. “Madame has the choice of our lovely sectional with the romantic glow of the tv, or our exquisite bed with soft candlelight. The house recommends the bed, but Madame is, of course, free to choose.”

You giggle at his feigned formality and pretend to think. “Madame believes she will take the house recommendation of the bed.”

He nods in satisfaction and stands up, scooping you up into his arms and carrying you back up the stairs. You tighten your legs around his waist and sigh happily when his lips find your neck to start pressing open-mouthed kisses.

You’ve finally made it to the bedroom, and he places you at the head so you’re reclining against the pillows. He moves to the end of the bed and goes into what appears to be some form of child’s pose, except he’s looking up at you. “Bren, what are you doing?”

He grins and starts to wiggle back and forth. “Pouncing.” You’re about to ask another question when he does just that: pounces and grabs you by the hips. You shriek with laughter when he starts playfully growling and nibbling at your thighs; he stretches over your body, buries his face in your neck while making ridiculous noises, and lightly bites at you. “Om nom nom nom nom,” he growls, tickling your sides.

“Brendon, what the hell?” You’re gasping for air, tears streaming from laughing, and he looks up at you seriously.

“I’m eating you, pretty girl. Om. Nom. Nom. Nom.” With each sound, he presses a kiss to your neck, slowly moving lower and lower. You’re wiping at your eyes, still laughing.

“Or is this not what you had in mind?” His eyes twinkle up at you playfully, and you shake your head. “Oh Kitten, I know what you really want. I won’t even make you say it, even though I love to hear it.” He inches his way back down your body, lifting your shirt up and leaving soft kisses over your newly-exposed skin as he goes. “You want my tongue on your pussy, licking and lapping at your clit until you’re soaking wet for me, and I can slide my fingers in. You want me touching and tasting you until you can’t stand it, don’t you?” You nod weakly, lacing your fingers through his hair, and he smiles softly. “Well, I live and love to please you, babygirl.” Gently, he slides your panties down, spreads your legs wider and presses his lips to the inside of your thigh. You let out a quiet moan and he looks up at you. “I don’t want to tease you anymore. I’ve tortured you enough. Tell me exactly what you want, and I’ll give it to you.”

You sigh happily, rolling your hips up to his mouth. “Just make me feel good, Bren. Make me come.”

He grins. “That, my love, I can do.” His tongue is moving over you in soft strokes while his thumbs massage the inside of each thigh, and his eyes have slipped shut as his mouth works. He’s being so gentle with you, and you think you might pass out from how great it feels. “Is this good, Kitten?” His voice is soft, and you nod languidly. “Just want you to feel good.”

“Trust me Bren, I feel really good.” His tongue is delving deeper now, and his thumbs have moved farther in to spread you wide for him. He increases his pace and pressure a little bit, moaning against you when you grip his hair. “That feels amazing,” you whisper, and he nods. “Baby—Bren—can you—” your words are coming in fragments; you can feel yourself getting close already— “softer with your tongue and add two fingers?”

“So fucking sexy, you knowing what you need to get off, Kitten.” He takes your requests and plays with your clit lightly with his tongue while his fingers press into you, stroking. You arch your back when his fingers hit a good spot and he does it again, gazing up at you from between your legs.

You’re whimpering, rocking your hips gently into his touch, and he watches you. “Is this okay?” He murmurs the question into your pussy while his fingers slide back and thrust deep, and you manage to suppress the low moan that bubbles up in you.

“Fuck yes, Brendon; it’s so good.” Your fingers tighten in his hair, and you spread your legs wider. “But I need more, more of your mouth,” you tell him, and he nods.

He’s slipping his fingers out of you to go back to covering you with his mouth, softly, alternately between slowly letting his tongue roll out against your folds and sucking lightly. “God, yeah,” you whimper, and he keeps going, wriggling in closer to get more access.

“Fucking love eating your pussy, babygirl; fuck, you are incredible,” he groans when he pulls back to breathe hard, resting his head against your thigh. You look down at him, his lips and chin slick, eyes dark with want, and you can’t help but moan at the sight. He licks his lips and stares up at you. “God, will you sit on my face?”

“Fuck Bren, as if I’d say no, with you down between my legs and looking at me like that.” You’re incredulous and willfully let yourself be rolled over to your stomach so you can pull back and sit up. He crawls up the bed into your place, settling down into the pillows and adjusting one under his neck.

“Commere, Kitten. Come ride my tongue.” He’s breathing hard again, pupils fully dilated, and you sling a leg over him and kneel over his chest. Carefully, he guides your hips into place so you’re reclining against his collarbone, and he can curve an arm around behind you to give you more support.

“Fuck yes,” he moans as you settle into place, and he goes back to the soft licking and sucking that had you close before. His tongue is rolling over you, really tasting you, and he brings his other hand back, resting it on your hip. “Can I?” He lets the question hang as he applies pressure to your hip with two fingers. You nod eagerly and he adjusts his hand to slide his fingers in and spread you wide for his tongue. With more access, he can really stroke you and tease your clit with light flicks of the tip of his tongue. You cry out with pleasure as he rocks you closer at a better angle with his arm. “God, babygirl, can’t wait to feel you come all over my face like this. All over me, sweetheart.”

“Fuck,” you hiss, closing your eyes. “I’m really close already.”

“D’you need anything different, or are you gonna come?”

“Don’t fucking change a goddamn thing,” you whisper, moaning again when he returns to his ministrations. “God, yeah Bren, right there. Suck just a lit—sweet fuck, don’t stop, fuck fuck fuck oh—God yes!”

It’s hitting you hard so he curls his fingers forward and you can’t stifle your scream. “Fuck, Brendon, yes!”

“Ride my face; don’t hold back, let yourself feel it.” His words are muffled by your pussy, but you catch the gist and give in, rubbing and bearing down on his mouth. He keeps up with you, tongue and fingers working hard, and you’re thinking that you might come again when he sucks gently. “Give me one more, come for your man one more time. Soak my face once more, pretty baby.” His words push you over just as he reaches up to brush a slick thumb over your nipple. The sensation rips through you and you’re panting hard, hands in his hair.

“Holy hell.” You manage to whisper, coming down from it. You glance down and see his dark eyes sparkling from between your thighs and you can feel the wet curve of his smile. “Fuck, Bren, I love you.”

“I love you too, Kitten. Am I forgiven?” He looks eager as he licks over you gently and into the corners of his mouth, collecting your taste.

“If I say yes…”

“Then I’m making you come again on my tongue before I flip you over and give you my cock, fucking you so good and leaving you shaking and clinging to me after you’ve soaked our sheets.”

“Yes.” You’re a little breathless, already clinging to him like he wants. Brendon grins as he flexes his fingers into your hips, and you shriek happily when he slides his tongue over you again.

“Gonna make it so good for you, Kitten.”

#brendon urie #brendon urie smut #brendon urie fic #brendon urie fanfic #brendon urie fanfiction #brendon urie x reader #my work #revised version

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loverontheleft · 1 year

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Symphony (Revised)

Original Request: Could you maybe make a one shot and have Brendon be on tour and the reader visits and they sneak off somewhere on the bus to fuck and have to try and be quiet? Then maybe someone from the band catches them?

Brendon x Reader

Warnings: fingering, sex without a condom (that's not advice; be safe and make good choices), voyeurism.

Word count: 3.1k ➡️ 4.5k

-||-

“Maybe if you shift to your left a little? No, come back a bit. Okay, now,” Brendon instructs you, “lift your left leg up and—okay, yes, higher—”

“Brendon, I will fall over if I have to stand like this for more than thirty seconds. And I know we joke that you’re ‘one and done,’ but your one isn’t that quick.”

He kisses you deeply to smother the sound of you both laughing; you’ve been whispering this whole time to avoid getting caught in a what-you-hoped-would-be compromising situation in the bathroom of his band’s tour bus. Instead, you’ve spent the past five minutes each trying to figure out how to position yourself for maximum pleasure but minimal sound.

It hasn’t been going well sexually, but the two of you have been having a blast just trying to have sex. “I need to re-evaluate some of my choices,” you mumble against his lips. He shushes you playfully and you giggle, clutching him and recalling what got you here in the first place.

-||-

Brendon answered your FaceTime request on the first ring. “Hey, darlin!” Your whole heart melted and you smiled wide at the absolute joy on his face. “Damn, you look good.” He eyed you on screen appreciatively, and you laughed, shaking your head.

“Shut up, I do not. I look exhausted.” He made a thinking noise, really hamming it up, before grinning.

“Well that’s why I think you look good. I only see you exhausted after sex. Positive association and whatnot.”

Well, you think to yourself. You couldn’t ask for a better opportunity. “Speaking of sex,” and you let your voice drop suggestively. “I have next Thursday and Friday off. Thought maybe I could come see you? Have a long weekend with my man?”

Brendon’s face lit up. “Hell yes!” You both smiled at his enthusiasm, and then it hit him. He groaned, closing his eyes. “Those aren’t hotel nights.” Your face fell a little, but you smiled again.

“That’s okay, B. I just wanna see you in person and not on my screen. Miss your face.” You pressed your lips towards the camera and he did the same. You both laughed at the cheesiness of your FaceTime kiss and fell into conversation about the logistics of your arrival and both of your days so far until he had to go for sound check.

When your work day ended Wednesday, you headed right to the airport. You showed up at the airport three hours early, but you didn’t care—you were so excited. You’d been texting back and forth all day, and you were glad you decided to take some photos for him early this morning. You took a photo after putting on each piece of clothing, so all you had to do was send them in the reverse order to give him a long distance strip tease.

You’d been sending them throughout the day without any warning, and so far he’d gotten you digitally undressed to your bra and underwear: a matching, lacy turquoise set.

You knew it wasn’t fair; the poor boy wasn’t exactly sitting around just waiting for photos. He had responsibilities, interviews with radio stations, meetings with the GSAs at the high schools in the area, and news stations would be coming by all day to get footage for their evening news shows.

You shouldn’t have teased him. And yet, you sent the photo featuring the straps of your bra dangling off your shoulders, the cleavage a little deeper. His reply came through a minute later, this time as an audio message. You slipped your headphones from your purse to listen. His message started with a soft groan, and your toes curled a little. God, you loved that sound in your ear, and the way his smooth voice consumed your entire mind. “Jesus, honey, you’re just asking for it, aren’t you? Can’t wait to get my hands on those perfect tits once I’ve got my cock in you.”

You didn’t even hesitate in your response; you fired back with the photos of the bra on the floor and the full body shot, sans bra.

Brendon’s next audio message was one choked word: ‘Fuck.’

When you’d finally boarded, you sent him the last four photos in the series: the first with your thumb hooked into the waistband of your panties, the second showing them around your thighs, the third with them pooled by your ankles, and the fourth was another full body shot, this time nude.

Once all four were sent, you turned your phone off. You knew his reply would be filthy and might even contain pictures of his own. You couldn’t handle that on a plane; you weren’t even sure you could handle it once you were safely in your rental car. He didn’t send photos often, but the ones you’d received in your time together were explicit, and they never failed to push you over the edge when you were touching yourself. If he was ever going to send them, it would be now, in response to your teasing.

You also rarely sent suggestive photos; he was always so protective of you and your relationship. It would only take one mistake for a photo to go public, and he didn’t want to subject you to that. And, he’d point out, he had plenty of mental images of you to use in case he needed any ‘visual assistance.’ As wonderful as the few photos you’d sent previously were, he valued your privacy and safety more.

Even so, Brendon seemed happy to be receiving the photos now; all of his replies pointed to him deeply appreciating and enjoying the photos. He hadn’t sent any photos yet, but you had a voicemail waiting for you when you landed, and you felt safe enough listening to it as you walked to the rental car.

You shouldn’t have listened to it. The sound of his hand moving urgently over his lubed cock was audible in the background, and he was telling you all of the dirty things he wanted to do to you once you were in his arms.

Your breath caught in your throat when he started describing how he was going to get you undressed, onto your hands and knees in his bed, and then hold your hips firmly as he filled you over and over again; you braced yourself against the rental car’s door with one hand and reminded yourself to breathe normally. He was describing the various ways he was going to get you to come for him, and you closed your eyes, willing yourself to maintain a sense of composure until you could be alone with him.

The drive was a long one. You were anxious. You definitely weren’t nervous—you’d been together long enough to not be nervous—but anxious, yes. You’d been practically quivering with anticipation; you’d been avoiding Instagram and Twitter and anywhere people might be posting images of him. You wanted to be overwhelmed when you finally saw him. You were already overwhelmed just hearing him get off to your photos, so getting to see him would just add fuel to the fire.

You followed the GPS as you sang along to an older album of his, eyes scanning the road for the giant water tower he’d texted you to use as a landmark. He had a show tonight, so you’d probably make it to the bus a bit before he and the band finished on stage, depending on traffic and timing.

Finally, finally, finally. The water tower loomed off to the right, and you made the turn. After getting through the security gate with the emailed pass from management, you parked next to the bus and flung open your car door. You didn’t even pause to take stock of your appearance; you just wanted to get on the bus and wait for him.

You didn’t have to wait long; moments after the bus doors closed behind you, the echoing roar of the crowd swelled through the night. You guessed he’d be on the bus within ten minutes.

When the bus doors opened and he climbed the stairs, you flung yourself at him. He held you tightly, burying his face in your hair. You both lingered for a moment, just clinging to each other, breathing it in, your chest pressed to his and your heartbeats palpable. “Finally.” His voice was quiet, and he hugged you tightly.

“Finally,” you agreed, your voice breaking a little with emotion. You both knew how much you missed each other, but the reality of holding each other brought the weeks of longing into sharp focus.

You pulled away after a long moment, and stared at him in the leather pants that drove you wild and a button-down shirt you were just itching to tear off of him. “Fuck, you look good.”

He laughed and grabbed your ass, pulling you into him for another kiss. “Don’t use such filthy language,” he teased against your mouth. “It’ll just earn you a spanking.”

You looked at him and raised one eyebrow, pressing your hips forward. “Promise?”

“Fucking love you,” Brendon declared. He deepened the kiss, and you whimpered, starting on the buttons of his shirt.

At that point, the rest of the band piled onto the bus, greeting you enthusiastically and sprawling on the couches. They were talking eagerly about the venue, the crowd’s reaction to certain songs, and the various twists and turns the conversation took as it always did with a collection of creative, high-energy people.

Brendon had pulled you down onto a couch, and you were snuggled against him. His fingers were running up and down your arm lightly, and he nudged you affectionately. “You okay?” He brushed a hand over your hair and you nodded happily. “You’re just being quiet.”

You shrugged, pressing back against him more. “I just like being here. Listening to all of you, the things you think about, the things you say.”

Nicole laughed. “We don’t all need to hear the things Brendon thinks about, because they’re almost always about you and a distinct lack of clothes,” and you groaned, blushing faintly when Mike and Zack joined in on the lighthearted teasing.

Dan and Jake came back from the mini-kitchen in the front, each holding a sandwich. “What’d we miss?” Dan looked around curiously and Nicole giggled, ducking when you tossed a pillow at her playfully.

“Y/n said she liked hearing what we think about and I just made the simple comment that—”

“We don’t all need to hear the porn that makes up Brendon’s thinking?” Dan interrupted her, and she nodded. Dan turned toward the two of you. “Brendon, I notice you’ve been quiet during all of this.”

You could hear the smirk in your boyfriend’s voice. “That would be because I’m busy thinking.” His fingers were moving slower now, and there was something sexier, more sensual about his touch—or maybe you were just thinking dirty thoughts too.

The others groaned at his words and Nicole threw the pillow back. He shifted to roll over you and stood. “I’m gonna go take a shower before I head to bed.” He ignored the comments about cold showers and bent over to kiss you softly. “Come to bed when you’re ready, baby,” he murmured just loud enough for them to hear, and they all groaned as he walked away.

You heard the shower start and shortly after, your phone lit up. He’d texted you, “come back here.” As naturally as you could, you stood and stretched.

“I think I’m gonna head to bed now. Long flight; I’m exhausted,” you told them and headed back to the bunks. You paused by his bunk, where your bag rested, and you loudly scrambled up into it before slipping back out as quietly as you could. Whether or not they fell for it, you weren’t sure, but you’d made an effort at least.

You snuck into the bathroom, and Brendon pulled you in for a heated embrace.

“First, I want to apologize for trading the master bedroom in the back for a recording studio; that was fucking stupid of me. I should have you sprawled on a king-size bed, naked with your ankles on my shoulders and my cock deep in you right now; instead, we’re in this tiny—”

You pressed your lips to his to silence him, and when you pulled back, you were both smiling. “It’s okay, B. We’ll just have to be creative.” You both looked around the tiny bathroom; it was hardly more than the square shower stall, a toilet, and a sink with a medicine cabinet mirror. “Really creative.”

-||-

You look hesitantly at the sink. “Think it can hold me?” He nods without hesitation and you laugh a little. “Thanks, Bren. Let me be more specific. Think it can hold me when I’m getting fucked by you?” You both consider the force and combined weight and thrusting velocity. “I wasn’t good at physics,” you admit, and he laughs quietly.

“Is that physics? Can this sink hold our combined weight while fucking?” You shrug, giggling too. “I mean, it probably can,” Brendon muses. “It is a rockstar’s tour bus after all.”

You laugh and cover your mouth as you settle onto the edge of the sink. “I know you didn’t just call yourself a rockstar.”

He looks playfully offended. “Uh, rude. I’ll remind you that I’ve sold out Madison Square Garden. Women throw their bras at me. I wear leather pants. I’m a rockstar.” You’re both laughing now, but trying to muffle yourselves.

You grin, curl your fingers into the waistband of his pants, and jerk him closer, so he’s between your legs. “You can be a rockstar on stage. Right now though, you’re here, and you’re my boyfriend. Kiss me, Urie.”

“I’m always your boyfriend,” Brendon corrects you. “No matter where I am.”

“Damn right,” you tell him with a laugh. Your mouths meet, and you both have to stifle your groans of satisfaction. His fingers grip your thighs as he presses closer, and you can feel him hard against you even through the leather. His hands inch up until he’s got your leggings in his grasp, and you arch your hips so he can pull them down.

With your leggings and underwear now around your ankles, he tugs your shirt off over your head. He’s unclasping your bra as you work on unbuttoning his shirt. You’ve just finished the last one and are about to push it off his shoulders when he grabs your wrists.

“I’m already naked; you better not be changing your mind about this,” you threaten, and he quickly shakes his head.

“No, I’m definitely not. I promise. Our time is limited though; others are going to want a shower. We should limit the clothing we take off.”

You consider this, tilting your head to the side. “Fair enough. Pants down, cock out.”

“You’re lucky you’re so cute,” Brendon teases, grinning. “I normally expect a bit more romance.” His hands cover the swell of your breasts roughly before moving down so he can rub his fingers against you with one hand while the other works at his pants.

“In,” you insist and you both laugh at your needy tone. He obliges, curling two fingers, and you kiss him to smother your moan. “Harder.” He gives you a dubious look and you feel like you can read his mind. “I won’t be loud, I promise.” He raises an eyebrow and you take one of his hands and press it over your mouth, not restricting your breathing but blocking the sound. “See?” Your voice is muffled against his palm and he shakes his head, eyes sparkling in amusement.

“You’re bad,” he tells you with a grin, but he gives you what you want, fingers going deeper, harder, and slower. You squeeze around his fingers, and he groans, louder than intended. You bring your own hand up to his mouth, and he captures two of your two fingers, sucking hard.

You let your head fall back against the mirror and you tentatively roll your hips into his palm, relishing how his index and middle fingers curl inside you while his thumb plays with your clit. You’re clenching around him, and you’re both moaning, both grateful for the other’s hand.

The shower has been going this whole time, and the small room is steamy, giving everything a dream-like quality; that’s certainly how you’d describe his fingers stroking you. His tongue teases your fingers and you’re pretty sure your eyes just rolled back in your head. In your quick examination of the space, you both ruled out oral, and you’re definitely feeling the loss. His tongue, lips, mouth—the man knows how to work your body, especially when his head is between your legs.

Just the thought of him lapping at your clit pushes you over the edge, and you bite lightly at his palm.

Brendon pulls his fingers out of you, and you remove yours from his mouth so he can replace them with his and taste you. He’s moaning around his fingers and licking with meticulous care, staring at you hungrily. “Tastes so good, baby. Can I make you feel even better?” He brings your fingers back to his mouth and the wet heat of his mouth over your two fingers has your stomach twisting as you nod eagerly.

His hand moves from your mouth and he shoves his pants further down his thighs. Your eyes find his thigh and you whimper, proud of yourself for managing to do so quietly. At home, when you’ve got time and space and privacy, you’ll spend up to an hour grinding on his thigh, sometimes with him clad in his leather pants, other times naked, just really teasing both of you and getting closer and closer to climax until he tells you to come all over him. Even under oath, you don’t think you could give an accurate number as to how many times you’ve brought yourself to a shaking, swear-laden orgasm on his thigh while stroking his cock.

You refocus when you feel the head of his cock pressing against you, and you nod, guiding his hand back over your mouth. “Please,” you say, and you kiss his palm, your way of begging at this point. He thrusts against you, and you both let out soft, broken sighs of pleasure when he goes deep, rocking slowly. His fingers dig into your thigh again, and you can feel the bruises forming; you fucking love it. Your eyes find his; you feel every inch of him, and even as unconventional as this moment is, you want to remember everything about how good he feels inside you right now. Your eyes stay locked on each other; you’re both laser-focused, just feeling.

With you slightly elevated on the sink, his dick is entering from a lower point and a different angle; he’s hitting your G-spot perfectly with each thrust, and you can’t catch your breath from how good it feels. He knows what he’s doing too; his mouth is a vice grip around your fingers and his palm is pressing against your lips a little more firmly.

That’s probably for the best; you’re not able to be as quiet as the moment requires. He presses closer, his torso almost curved over yours, his open shirt hanging on either side of you.

Besides being totally enraptured with each other, the shower spray muffles some sound too, which is probably why neither of you hear the bathroom door slip open or the camera shutter.

It’s all too much, his mouth on your fingers, his hand on your mouth and thigh, his dick rubbing perfectly, right where you need him. “Gonna come,” you tell him, still muffled by his hand, your eyes slipping shut.

Brendon leans forward to kiss you, moving his hand and releasing your fingers from his mouth. The new angle, from his leaning forward, has you shrieking as you feel the sparks go off and radiate through your entire body. His tongue is in your mouth, he’s coming too, and the sensation makes you wild; it feels like it’s been so long since you’ve had him in you like this, had his hips bucking against yours to get deeper and give you everything he’s got. You’re moaning, and you fling a hand across his back, grabbing at his shirt to keep him pressed against you. Everything is heat and fire and trembling, blinding pleasure. Between your orgasm reducing you to a thrashing mess and his cock pulsing into you, you’re completely blissed out.

You’ve never come like this before, even with him— you open your eyes to tell him this, which is when you see it. The glint of the camera lens catches your attention and you scream; not even his hand could’ve muffled that.

Brendon’s head snaps toward the door as he follows your gaze, and you think you’re going to vomit. He’s pulling out of you, and you whine unintentionally; you hate how empty you always feel after he fucks you. But more than the emptiness is your confusion and distraction. Jake and Nicole are in the doorway, and you can see the camera in Jake’s hands. There’s only one explanation here, but you cannot process it. Brendon finds the words though.

“Jesus, Jake, what the fuck?!” Brendon is pissed—no, he’s furious—you can tell. He’s jerked his pants up, and you tug your leggings back into place and grab for your shirt; he shifts to stand in front of you protectively even once you’re dressed. He’s shaking with anger, and you place a hand on his back to sooth him. This is bad.

Nicole peers from under Jake’s arm. “We could hear you fucking from the living room. We flipped a coin to see who got to barge in. If I won, I was gonna ask to join you,” she says with a flirtatious smile and it’s enough to break the tension—almost. You laugh a little, at least. “But,” she continues, “Jake won. We all agreed he should take photos.”

“Then you’re all lucky that we have a show tomorrow and it’s too late to get replacements, because otherwise, you’d all be fucking fired,” Brendon snarls, and you squeeze his shoulder. He’s trembling with rage, but at your touch, you feel his tension ease a bit.

Jake looks like he feels terrible—he holds the camera out to Brendon, clearly a peace offering. Brendon snatches it, fingers already working to delete the images, fury radiating through him. You peek over his shoulder, and you see the photo on the display.

You stop him, your eyes on the screen. “Wait, Brendon, it’s good.” You’re in awe of the shot. It’s the two of you, hands muffling each other, and the way his shirt falls, nothing is visible while plenty is implied. Jake took it right after your eyes slipped shut mid-orgasm, while Brendon’s head was tossed back in bliss. It’s in black and white, and it’s a really great photo.

The next image is almost the same, except Brendon is kissing you deeply, and the way your back arches into him and your hand clutches him says you’re definitely coming hard. However, his shirt once again plays the role of censor and, together with the steam filling the room, it keeps the capture from being explicit. It’s gorgeous, it’s sensual, it’s dreamy, it’s perfect.

You want it. You whisper this to Brendon, your fingers dancing across his back where he’s kept you, shielding you. He turns to look at you now, and his eyes soften. You repeat the request, going on tiptoe to press a kiss to his lips. You can feel him relax a bit more, and he caresses your face as he returns the kiss. When you part, he searches your face to be sure you’re actually comfortable with this, and you watch him accept it. He passes the camera back to Jake.

“Two things. One, I will fucking fire and then kill you if you ever take photos of Y/n again without her permission.” Brendon’s tone is deceptively light, and the four of you know how serious he is. “Two, I want both of these sent to me in a password-protected zip file as high resolution files, and I want to watch you delete them from your camera and computer after I have them.” He turns to you, eyebrow raised. “Anything else you want, baby?” His voice is soft, indulgent, and sweet; you wrap your arms around him from behind while resting your chin on his shoulder.

You meet Jake’s eyes, and you grin, knowing you’re about to save him. “I want Jake to take still shots when we finally film our sex tape. These are stunning.”

Brendon laughs, and all the tension finally dissolves. You feel his body relax in your grasp, and you snuggle into him. Jake looks much more relieved, and Nicole elbows him. “Dude,” she tells him, “I think you’re gonna live. Let me know if you need an assistant for lighting and shit.” She grins, but Jake still looks pale. Brendon punches him lightly on the shoulder.

“They are great shots. But I will fucking kill you,” he repeats with a smile, leaving the bathroom with his arm around you. He pulls back the curtain of his bunk and helps you up, climbing in after you. Once the divider is closed, you begin the process of stripping; this is the biggest con to bus nights. Getting undressed in bed is near impossible. Normally, you would’ve both changed into pajamas after actually showering, and those would’ve been far easier to tear off of each other. However, given the interruption, the night isn’t proceeding as it normally would.

Once you’re both naked, you collapse beside him, breathing hard. “That was a workout on its own,” you mumble, whimpering happily when Brendon tugs you closer. You throw a leg up over his waist, snuggling close and running a hand over his chest affectionately. “B, those pictures…” and you can feel him tense next to you. “No, nothing’s wrong. I was just going to say, I want them printed on giant canvases for our bedroom.”

He laughs a little, and you think he’s finally relaxing. “Whatever you want, baby. Your body is always a fucking masterpiece, but especially in those photos. You’re fucking incredible. God, you look so good, and you sound so good. I wish you could hear your moans the way I do; they’re like goddamn music. Most beautiful sound I’ve ever heard. An absolute symphony of bliss and euphoria and passion.”

You blush, smiling up at him. “Well, you get some credit there too, B. The masterpiece and music wouldn’t be half as good without you running the show. ”

He kisses the top of your head, hand stroking over your bare back. “Darlin, trust me. I’ll conduct that symphony any time.”

#my work #brendon urie #brendon urie smut #brendon urie imagine #brendon x reader #fanfic #imagine #brendonurie #panic! at the disco smut #brendon urie fanfic #brendon urie fanfiction

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