#brendon urie fic | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

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

66 notes · View notes

loverontheleft · 1 year

Text

I Miss You (revised)

Revised 02/2023

For @vessyvk by request (Could you write a smut where he is on tour and you can’t see each other for a long time and you use FaceTime (which is not enough and people interrupt), and then he finally comes home… 😊);

Warnings include: language, toys, mutual masturbation, “public” sex, oral (you), and condomless sex (not advised; make good choices) – I think that’s everything.

6.5k words

-||-

“How many more days?” You’re a little breathless, curled on your side and gazing intently at your phone.

Brendon sighs, the messy dressing room visible behind him, and he runs a hand through his tousled hair. “One more week.” He looks like you feel, and you sigh sadly. “But it's a direct flight, so I should have no delays.” He tries to look cheerful, failing miserably.

“Mm,” you agree thoughtfully. “Chances of Zack letting me pull you into a companion bathroom so I can get my hands and mouth on you first thing?” He laughs and his phone shakes a little.

“I don’t think that’s what they mean by ‘companion,’ love. Though Zack wouldn’t be our problem; LAX security on the other hand…”

“Fine. Chances of Zack taking a cab home so I can get you alone in the car and give you a hand job while you drive? Maybe convince you to finger me too? Just think about it,” you urge. “Sliding your fingers out of my pussy, sucking them clean at a traffic light. Tasting your girl for the first time in weeks.” He stops laughing, tilts his head back, and moans a little. It sends a thrill through you, your whole body tenses at the sight. “Fucking hell, B, you’ve got to warn me before you start that sexy shit again. Don’t tease me.”

His face changes a little and he reaches for the phone where it’s propped on his counter. “Don’t tease you? You’re one to talk, honey. Reminding me how long it’s been since I’ve had your sweet cunt on my face. Don’t tease you, yeah, okay.” He grins, and you can see his forearm flex. “Isn’t that the whole point of these calls, darlin?” He pans the camera down and you can see the outline of his cock pressing through his boxers and how he’s palming over himself.

You feign horrified innocence. “What?? Bren, have you been misbehaving during our conversations?”

He grins, shaking his head in amusement. “One hundred percent, yes. If you answer the FaceTime call naked, as you did tonight, I’ll remind you, I definitely get my hand down my pants, and I usually come too.” Your mouth drops open a little, still pretending to be scandalized, and he groans. “Dammit babygirl. Who’s teasing now? Got me thinking about those beautiful lips wrapped around my cock. Fuck, you’re so hot, you look so good on your knees for me; such a good girl, the way you let me slowly fuck your mouth, run my hands through your hair and slide my cock over your tongue. Watch you take it. Fuck. My best girl makes me come so hard just thinking about her.”

You blush and shift your own camera downward, so he can see your two fingers moving in soft, slow circles. “Talking about ‘best girl,’ I’d better be your only girl,” you tease, breathing harder as your fingers work and show off for him. “I’m glad you come, though. I do too, but it’s not nearly as satisfying as when I’ve got your fingers or cock or tongue.”

He nods, his eyes glued to the scene your phone is still filming. “We should work on that. Need my best and only girl to come just as hard on her own as she does with me.” He laughs a little, stroking himself harder. “Love when my girl squeezes my cock, tightens around my fingers, tenses up when she comes all over me and rubs that wet cunt over my face. Desperately want to feel her every time. But my best girl deserves to come like that whenever she wants, even if I can’t be there. It’s—fuck—important that you can get yourself there too, honey.”

You smile. “Tell me what to do then, B. You know my body best. Teach me.” You’re pleased when he groans and slips his hand down inside his boxers, clearly gripping his erection. You’re still moving your fingers in little circles, waiting.

“Are you wet enough, baby?” He’s brought the camera up to his face, getting a closer look. “If you’re not so wet that your fingers are slipping off that gorgeous pussy, I want to see you suck those fingers.” You let the camera come back up so he can watch you slide both fingers into your mouth, sucking gently. “That’s it, really get them wet. That’s so good, babygirl. Fuck, miss that sweet tongue,” Brendon pants, and you can hear the urgency of his fist over his length.

The sound burns inside you, and it's a molten hot desire that you need to satisfy. “Now slide them out of that pretty mouth and get them back where you need them,” Brendon instructs. “Get your whole hand involved; grind your clit against your palm the way you grind against the base of my cock, honey.”

You don’t waste any time and plunge your fingers down, whimpering as you rock against your palm. “Brendon, it feels good. Wanna ride my fingers the way I ride your cock; fuck that’s good.” You’re still aiming your phone at your face, and he groans. “You wanna see? You wanna see my fingers shining from how wet I am?”

“Fucking hell, please.”

“Only if I get to see those hands I love so much wrapped around your cock, stroking it. I’ll show you mine if you show me yours,” you wink playfully, and he laughs. The camera shakes, and you can hear him trying to get his underwear off with one hand. He’s breathing hard, cursing, and you both freeze when there’s a knock on the door on his side and you can hear Zack calling something. “Fuck,” you mutter, and he closes his eyes, letting his head fall into the hand once desperately trying to shove his boxers down.

“Fuck. Hang on.” He sets the phone down and you hear him call, “What’s up?” Zack’s response is unintelligible on your end, but you hear Brendon. “K, give me one sec,” and you groan because you know this is where he leaves you for now. He’s back on screen. “Baby, I’m so sorry—”

You cut him off with a soft smile. “It’s okay. Go do your job. I love you, Bren.” He returns the smile and sentiment, and you end the call. “Fuck!” You cry, frustrated not with him but with the circumstances in general.

You’re so wet, and you can’t get the image of his hand on his cock out of your mind. It has been thirty-six days since you’ve seen him in person, and while the two of you spent as much time as possible in bed, it wasn’t enough. It’s never enough. You crave him all the time; you get lost in fantasies of his body moving over yours, filling you, holding you, bringing you to multiple orgasms and praising you through each. You’ve had a lot of phone and FaceTime sex over the past five weeks, and it has not tempered your lust at all. If anything, you want him even more.

You lie there for a moment, trying to come down from your arousal, when the idea hits you. You scramble off the bed and start digging for the tripod attachment and trigger you bought when you were going through an amateur photography phase.

It takes you about thirty minutes to get all the shots you want, resorting to a video at one point so you can use both hands. After, you flick through them, and grab stills from the video; you decide against any retouches and send them without a second thought. And now, you wait.

You don’t realize you’ve fallen asleep, that it’s dark out now, until the buzzing glow of your phone and the FaceTime alert stirs you. His contact photo is a selfie he took of the two of you; you’re holding his face and kissing his cheek, and he’s beaming for the camera. It always makes you smile, and you fumble for the ‘answer’ button. “Hey baby.”

“Holy fuck, those photos.” He’s breathing hard and you are fully awake now. “That tripod was the best purchase we’ve ever made, because sweet Jesus I am looking at them now and I am so fucking hard for my girl.” Judging from the background, tonight is a hotel night and he’s in bed.

You smile, stretching out your arms. “Do you have a favorite?”

He looks thoughtful for a moment. “There’s one where you’re on your back and you’ve got two fingers in you and your other hand is squeezing your breast, playing with your nipple.” You make an encouraging noise, and he continues. “What I wouldn’t give to be either hand. How’d you get that shot? You didn’t have the trigger in your hand.”

“It’s a still shot from a video,” you purr, and you swear you can see his whole body tense.

“There’s a video?”

“Uh huh.” You’re teasing him, and he groans, asking if he can have it. “Well, I really only filmed it with the intention of grabbing stills from it…the cinematography isn’t the best…”

“I don’t care; I want to see my girl touch herself. Wait. I’ve got you on FaceTime now. I can have you live and in person. God, you have no idea how hard my dick is, honey.”

You roll over in bed, switching on the table lamp. “Yeah? You hard for me, Bren? You touching yourself?” He nods, eyes closed, and you can see the muscles in his arm working. “Let me see.” He drops the camera down and you gasp involuntarily. “Fuck, you’re perfect.” The words slip out and you bring your phone closer to your face, entranced by how his fist wraps around his length. “Jesus, look at you, B. Thrusting into your hand, wishing it was my tight pussy or my mouth. Can see how much lube you’re using, shit that’s so hot. Fuck, I wish your cock was in my mouth; love having you in my mouth, baby. Love working my tongue down until I’ve taken all of you and your hands are in my hair…but goddamn, if I don’t love getting my pussy filled…how you tell me to spread my legs, and the way you just…god, I miss you.” you whimper, sneaking your hand down to tease yourself.

“I miss you, baby,” he manages to get out, and you can see his fingers flex as his grip tightens. “I miss everything about you.” His hand is moving faster now, and his breath is coming in short gasps as he moves the camera back to his face. “I especially miss the way you’ll get me so close with your hand or pussy then take all of me in your mouth to swallow for me. Fuck, love that.”

“Love feeling you come on my tongue, baby. Are you close?” He nods, and you can see the muscles in his jaw twitch. “I wanna see you come for me, Brendon.” Your voice is low, and your head falls back and hits the pillow as your fingers fly over your clit. “Come for me, baby.”

“Oh god—honey, I’m—shit, shit, shit, fuck oh—” he knows what you want and pulls the camera back in time for you to see both his face as he hits his peak and his cum dripping over his clenched fist.

You talk him through it, telling him how hot it was, how sexy he is, and how much you want to pin him down and lick him clean. He’s running his hand over himself slowly, shuddering occasionally, and you praise him. “My god, Brendon, that was so good. So fucking sexy, seeing you come like that.”

You can tell he’s exhausted now; his eyelids are heavy, and his lips gently parted as he falls back against the pillows. “Fuck, baby, please tell me you came too.”

You shake your head. “I was focused on you.” He frowns and you quickly continue. “But it’s okay. I feel really really good. I don’t need to come to enjoy myself.” He’s still frowning, so you decide to distract him if possible. “How was the show?”

It works. As tired as he is, his eyes light up and he starts telling you about the crowd and the faces he could see and how great the show went. You smile sleepily; he’s doing what he was born to do. “You look tired, honey; I woke you up, didn’t I? You should go back to sleep.”

You shake your head, meeting his eyes. “I’m not hanging up.”

He smiles softly. “I didn’t say anything about hanging up. Get comfy darlin, we’re going to lay together until you fall asleep.”

You let out a little sigh of pleasure, snuggling back into the pillows. “Will you sing to me? I know you’re probably tired from tonight, but please?” You give him your wide-eyed pleading look and he nods.

“Of course. Do you have a preference or is it the dealer's choice?”

You yawn, eyes fluttering closed. “Something Disney. Otherwise, your choice, baby.” You roll over and turn off the table lamp before settling back down. The glow from your phone is the only thing lighting your face and you can feel yourself fading fast.

“Come stop your crying; it’ll be alright. Just take my hand, hold it tight.” His voice is soft but clear and you feel your heart swell. “I will protect you, from all around you; I will be here, don’t you cry.”

“Tarzan.” You smile, and he nods. “I love Tarzan.”

“For one so small, you seem so strong. My arms will hold you, keep you safe and warm. This bond between us can’t be broken; I will be here, don’t you cry.” He pauses, pushing his hair out of his face and you yawn again, burrowing down into the pillow. “Go to sleep, babygirl.” You nod and feel your eyes slip shut. “I love you, sweetheart.”

“Love you too, Bren,” you manage to mumble before totally slipping away and he continues to sing to you.

-||-

When you wake up, phone still in your hand, you have a text from him. It’s from 3 hours earlier; you’ve slept hard and it’s almost 1pm now. “Hey baby, watch for a UPS delivery today. I priority-overnighted you a present. Call me when you get it. Love you!”

You reply immediately. “I’m intrigued and excited. Will keep you posted. Love you too! Hope you’re having a good day.”

He texts back, letting you know that he’s free for the afternoon and thinking about a shower post-workout and then maybe a nap.

You shiver, thinking about him in the shower, tense muscles glistening with sweat. Taking a shower doesn’t sound so bad, and it gives you an excuse to send more photos. You strip down and send him a photo of the pile of clothes outside the shower door before stepping in.

You lean against the shower wall, handheld shower head on your clit while you finger yourself roughly with the other hand and let yourself get right to the edge of coming. He didn’t get to see you come last night after all, and if he’s free for the afternoon, you’re positive he’ll be available for a call.

You’re breathing hard, body coiled with anticipatory need, when you get out of the shower and pile your wet hair on top of your head. There’s no response from him yet, so you slip into one of his faded band shirts and crawl back into bed, willing yourself not to grind against a pillow or your hand. When your phone chimes, you see that he’s sent you back a photo of his own clothes outside his hotel shower, so you text him quickly. “Full disclosure; I’m out of a very hot shower and back in bed in one of your shirts. I can’t stop thinking about you.”

“And…3…2…1.” You count down quietly, and as predicted, his contact photo illuminates your screen. You slide to answer and groan when he appears on screen, wearing his glasses, wet, and a towel slung low on his hips. “Well, hello and good afternoon, Mr. Urie.” He grins, running a hand through his hair and you sit up cross-legged in bed.

“Hi, love. Heard you can’t stop thinking about me.” He drops back onto his bed and rolls onto his stomach to hold his phone out in front of him.

“It’s true.” You hold the phone up and angle down so he can see your wet hair, his shirt, and your lack of underwear.

He whistles, adjusting his glasses. “I can’t stop thinking about you either. Goddamn you are pretty. Love my clothes on you, baby. Also, my email says your gift is out for delivery.”

You preen, teasing your fingers along the edge of his shirt. “Do you really love your clothes on me?” He shifts a little, resting his chin in his hand.

“Well, I’d prefer you in nothing at all but if you must be dressed, this is a good option. It’s certainly easier to get you out of my clothes.”

“How funny, I also prefer me in nothing at all.” You set the phone down and pull his shirt off over your head and let it drop to the floor. “I believe we have some unfinished business from your dressing room?”

He nods eagerly, rolling onto his back and shimmying up the bed. “If I remember correctly, you were just about to show me your fingers all covered in your sweetness.” You feel a rush of heat between your legs and as you’re about to slide your fingers down, there’s a knock at the front door.

You tease your fingers across your folds and gasp a little and his eyes darken on screen. You’re wetter than you thought and you’re about to show him when he exclaims, “Oh! Your present was delivered!”

You pause. “Should I go get it? Even if it means pausing this?” You grin when he nods eagerly, practically wiggling in anticipation. You slip out of bed, scoop up his shirt to throw on, and walk to your front door. There’s a medium-sized box on your front steps and you lift it up to bring inside; it’s surprisingly light for its size. You look at him on screen questioningly.

“Open it.” He is now bouncing with excitement. You slip your finger under the edge and pop the tape before ripping the two flaps up. Your breathing hitches as you rub the lace and silk of the lingerie between your thumb and index finger. “God, you’re gonna look so good in that. But there’s more.” He’s eager, and you can’t help but be excited too. You set the lingerie aside, pawing through the rest of it. You choke a little in shock, but you’re delighted.

“Really, B?” You hold up the package containing the very expensive vibrator and the separate bottle of lubricant. He smirks and you bite your lip. “You spoil me.”

“Well let’s be real. This is just as much for me as it is for you. Thought maybe you could make some more videos for me. I’ll return the favor, of course.” His voice is husky, and a thrill goes through you as you make your way back to the bedroom. “You should try it out. It comes pre-charged.” You can see that his pupils are fully dilated, and you nod, slipping out of his shirt once more. You reach down and brush your fingers across your wetness again, bringing it up to the screen for him to see the glistening. “Damn, honey, you might not need the lube…” he trails off and you see his hand slip down.

“I might not,” you agree, unpacking the toy and examining it. It’s about 6 inches of brushed silicone with an otherwise-realistic tip featuring a concave, slightly textured section you’re already imagining rubbing against your clit. “Fuck, Brendon, it’s so soft and smooth. It’s like velvet. Reminds me of your dick, except purple and not quite as thick. Shit, this is still so nice.” He groans a little and you, wanting to torment him a bit, let your tongue flick out over it.

“I had to find something comparable, but not better. Didn’t want you leaving me for a toy.” You giggle, shaking your head. “Gonna get it ready?” He suggests, and you nod, sliding your tongue down the length of it, rolling and licking and sucking. “Fuck, baby, you know I miss that mouth.”

You pause, and remember the tripod is still set up to one side of your bed. “Hang on, Bren.” You clip your phone into place and adjust it, so the viewpoint covers the bed. You scoot back into view, sitting up with your knees bent, facing the camera. Slowly, painstakingly, you move the toy down and rub it against your pussy, gasping a little.

“Feels good, baby?” He’s sat up more and you can see the flushed head of his cock twitch above his palm as he rubs himself against his stomach slowly.

You nod, thumb finding the power button. “Oh Jesus, fuck,” you cry, hips bucking. “Holy–my god– Bren. That’s good. Fuck.”

“Yeah?” He’s biting his lip, and you nod again, your lips parted as you try to find the words. “You wet enough to slide it in? I want to see you fuck yourself with it if you can. Know you haven’t had anything bigger than fingers in a while…”

You lie back, keeping your legs spread for him, as you tease your entrance with the tip of the toy. You press in and you hiss a little, pulling it back. “Lube.” You pour a bit on two fingers, running them down the length of the toy and then across yourself. “Let’s try that again.” He’s stroking himself now and you can see the shine of pre-cum. Instinctively, your tongue flicks out, searching for it and you feel yourself get even wetter. This time it’s easier to get the toy in you and you have to roll to your side, burying your face in a pillow as you cry out, “motherfucker!” and yelp in pleasure at the sensations.

“No baby, let me hear you, please.”

You roll back, chest heaving. “Bren, I’m not gonna last long. Teased myself in the shower, got myself close, thinking I’d just be fingering myself for you–shit, I’m gonna fucking come!”

“Come for me, honey. You don’t need to last long. I just wanna see and hear you come like you deserve.” You moan, working the toy in and out, whimpering as you hit the ‘mode’ button and the vibrations increase. “That’s right baby, really take it. You’re doing so good, darlin.”

His voice is soothing, and you roll onto your stomach, hips raised and back arched, supporting yourself on a forearm as your free hand tangles in the sheets. “Hope this is as good for you, Bren,” you whisper, and you hear his low groan of confirmation.

“Trust me, the view is fucking incredible.”

You’re rocking your hips along the length of the toy, sliding it in and thrusting quickly before pulling out and letting the intense vibrations from the tip roll over your clit. “Oh fuck, I’m–” you cut yourself off, using your free hand to tug at your hair, squealing and panting.

“Shit, pull your hair, honey. Wish I could. Remind me what I have to come home to, let me hear you. Fuck, babygirl, let me see you come.” His voice is hoarse, and you know he’s close too.

You’re flying off the edge, falling apart, shrieking his name into the pillow as your hips rock and spasm. The toy slips from your grasp as your legs collapse from under you and you’re breathing hard and trembling all over. “Brendon?” You can’t lift your head or roll over to see the camera and instead of a response, you hear a choked version of your name followed by a low groan.

“You okay, baby?” His voice is soft, and you muster all your strength to roll toward the tripod.

“Holy fucking hell.” You whisper, and he agrees.

You’ve retrieved your phone from the tripod and are holding it close as he murmurs soft praise to you, telling you how good you are and how proud of you he is and how much he loves you when there’s a sharp knock in Zack’s signature rhythm on his door. “Son of a bitch, I told him not to disturb me today,” he groans, and you sigh, closing your eyes. “I’m really sorry, baby,” he starts, and you smile, holding up a hand to stop him.

“Don’t apologize. Go answer the door and deal with whatever it is. It’s probably important; he wouldn’t bother you otherwise. I’ll always be here.” You blow him a kiss and he blows one back before ending the call.

-||-

In your perfect world, the next five days would pass with that day’s events, but sans interruptions and extra orgasms. Of course, this isn’t your perfect world, so the next five days actually pass with double the interruptions, less than half the orgasms, triple the frustration, and what seems like an infinite number of explicit texts and photos and videos when FaceTime isn’t an option.

Finally, finally, it’s homecoming day and you find yourself pacing your bedroom anxiously. It’s 8am and he isn’t due at LAX until 4pm. You’ve already showered and done your hair, you’ve done and redone your makeup three times, and have the lingerie he sent you on; you just haven’t decided what clothes you’ll wear over it. You settle on a pair of leggings and a hoodie, knowing the juxtaposition between your outer layer and the intricate lace and silk underneath will be highly satisfying. Also, you won’t draw attention to yourself, which is key if you want to get him out of LAX and home to your bed with minimal delays.

You leave for the airport at 1:30, arguing with yourself that traffic could be bad. You’re sort of right; you arrive at 3pm and you spend the next hour sitting at the baggage claim, tapping your foot anxiously.

The screen changes his flight from ARRIVING to ARRIVED and you’re on your feet, bouncing on your heels. He’s texted you that he’ll be out shortly and he’s wearing a black hat and Zack is in grey. It’s only a few minutes before people start coming down the escalator and you’re scanning heads, and finally you see him. He spots you at the same time and his face lights up.

You’re good and don’t shriek, but wordlessly start weaving your way through the crowd before you’re within pouncing distance. He drops his backpack and holds out his arms and you fly into them, legs twisting around his waist as his hands curve under your thighs to hold you.

He buries his face in your neck, breathing deeply. “Never again, sweet girl. I’m never leaving you again.”

You smile weakly, not surprised to find yourself blinking back tears. “You don’t mean that.”

He looks at you seriously. “No, I mean, you’re coming with me from now on.”

“Oh, okay,” you laugh. “That’s acceptable.” He nods, kissing you hard. The embrace is needy and rough, and one of his hands tangles in your hair, tugging gently to get you moaning into his mouth. Zack clears his throat, and you pull away, waving at him. “Hi Zack. Thank you for keeping him safe.”

Zack rolls his eyes. “Can I continue doing my job and get the both of you to the car?”

Brendon nods, and you regretfully slip out of his arms. “We need to wait on your luggage, don’t we?” You ask as the three of you make your way out. Brendon shakes his head while Zack nods. You know you look confused.

“I’m going to go back and grab it once y’all are in the car. Minimal crowd exposure,” Zack explains, and you nod.

“And this way,” Brendon whispers in your ear lowly, “we have at least fifteen minutes alone in the car.” You grin, taking in his sweatpants and tee, slipping your hand into his.

You make it back to the car, where Zack praises you for your strategic parking. Nose out into an aisle so you’re not sitting in a line of cars forever. You open the back door, and both climb in. “Alright, I’ll be back. Make good choices.” He shuts the door firmly and you blush, wondering if he knows your intentions.

“Fucking finally,” Brendon gasps once Zack has turned away, grabbing you by the hips and hauling you into his lap. You squeal in surprise, feeling how hard he is. “Missed you so much, baby.” He’s slipping a hand down the front of your leggings and into your panties, groaning when he feels you. “Fuck me, you’re so wet. Surprised you didn’t soak through your leggings and get this sweet slickness all over my sweatpants.”

You whine, telling him to finger you, rocking into his hand and moaning happily when he slides two fingers in deep. “God, so tight,” he hisses, letting his head fall back against the headrest. You hold your hand to his mouth and let him spit into your palm before getting your hand down his sweatpants and grasping his erection firmly while his lips attach to your neck.

“We’re going to get arrested for indecent public behavior,” you tell him, stroking him rapidly, and he shakes his head.

“Only if we get caught.”

“We’re in an airport parking lot. We’re literally surrounded by people.”

“And yet your hand is on my cock and you’re fucking my fingers so good. You don’t seem too concerned.”

“Hush,” you tell him with a teasing smile, using your free hand to shove your leggings down before working on his sweatpants and boxers. His erection springs out and you can’t help the moan that escapes you.

“I like this lace,” he mumbles, “I bought this, right?” Without waiting for an answer, he’s pulling it to one side as you position yourself over him before sliding down quickly. You both gasp and he grabs the back of your head, crushing your mouth to his as you rock in his lap. “That’s it babygirl, ride me, fuck yourself hard, use my cock.”

You whimper, telling him you need it harder, gripping his shoulders. His hands find your hips and he starts to thrust up into you. It isn’t long, maybe three minutes before you’re breathing hard. “Bren, I’m not gonna la—"

“Hush” he tells you, grinning. “We’ve got plenty of time once we’re home. For now, I want you to come on my cock.”

“Jesus,” you moan, rocking harder and he’s sucking on and biting at your neck, calling you every sweet name that drives you wild, and you think you’re abo–

“Goddammit you two, you couldn’t fucking wait?” Zack’s voice is loud as the trunk pops open. You shriek, and Brendon groans, his head hitting the headrest while you bury your face in his neck. “Y’all are nasty. Get buckled up, we’re good to go.”

“We were good to go too, my girl was so close to coming,” Brendon grumbles a little as you wiggle out of his lap and slide your leggings up. He pulls his boxers and sweatpants back up and continues to complain good-naturedly about Zack’s timing.

“I don’t wanna hear it. Actually, I’m separating you two. Brendon, stay where you are and get buckled. Babygirl,” and his voice is dripping with sarcasm, “can get in the passenger seat. I don’t want any fucking around back there while I’m driving.”

You know better than to argue with him and obey sulkily. “You know I’m just gonna be sexting her from the back seat, right?” Brendon points out, and you whine.

“Do whatever the fuck you want, just don’t read that shit out loud and no sounds. I don’t care what happens as long as I’m not a witness to it. You know I don’t like that voyeuristic shit.”

Brendon smirks, thumbs flying over his phone, and you inhale sharply when the message comes through.

“Loved bouncing you on my cock like that, sweet girl.”

Another ping. “Want to make you come like that, then I want your hot, wet cunt on my face, rubbing all that sweetness on my mouth.” You’re squirming in your seat.

Another ping. “Can’t wait to feel you come on my tongue, baby; gonna eat your pussy for dinner and dessert until you’re screaming my name and the neighbors all know your man is home, fucking you right.”

“Jesus,” you whimper and Zack groans.

“This is going to be a long drive, isn’t it?” He asks no one in particular and Brendon starts laughing, firing off another series of texts.

-||-

When Zack pulls into the driveway, you’re trembling with your effort to not come just from Brendon’s texts, detailing exactly what he’s going to do to you. Brendon is tapping his fingers against his thigh as his leg bounces; as soon as the car is in park and the garage door is up, he throws open his door and is out of the car, flinging your door open and grabbing you as you fumble with your seatbelt. He drags you from the car, ignoring Zack, and tosses you over his shoulder.

“Brendon,” you shriek, hands clutching at his back.

“Good warm up, baby; you’re going to be screaming my name a lot,” he comments, getting the door unlocked and heading for the stairs. Once you’re in your room, he drops you on the bed and locks the door. “Strip,” he tells you, pulling his shirt off and kicking off his sneakers before tugging his sweatpants and boxers off.

You’ve gotten the hoodie and leggings off as well as your shoes and are spread out on the bed in the black lace set he bought you, legs wide and your arms above your head. “Jesus fucking Christ,” he whispers, pouncing on you and kissing you hard. “These are too pretty to rip off of you,” he comments, dragging the panties down with both hands before flipping you over. “Hands and knees, darlin; I think we both need it hard right now.”

You’re quick to obey and he grabs your hips to pull them back and up until your chest is flat against the bed and your arms outstretched, gripping the sheets. “But before I get my cock in you,” he murmurs, “there’s something I want to do while I’ve got you like this.” Using two fingers, he spreads you and drags his tongue along you, pausing to flick over your clit. As expected, your first orgasm rips through you and he groans, shoving his mouth against your pussy and licking roughly, gathering you on his tongue and swallowing with satisfaction. He doesn’t hesitate for long though before he’s back at work, face buried in you from behind, both hands on your thighs and pulling you back onto his mouth firmly to get better access.

You’re shrieking into the mattress, rocking back against him, and he’s moaning into you, words barely intelligible as his tongue delves into you. “Brendon, fuck!” You manage to gasp when he hits a good spot, and he pulls back. You turn to look at him and moan at the sight. His nose, lips, chin are all wet with you and he licks his lips, eyes closing briefly. “God, baby, get back in there, please. Eat it, B,” you whine, and he grins, flipping you over and lifting both legs over his shoulders before sliding two fingers in and spreading you wide, letting his tongue go deep. He’s flat on the bed, your legs folded across his shoulders and neck, and he’s holding your hand with one while the other plays with your pussy.

“Fucking love you,” he gasps, using his thumb against your clit as your nails rake across his back and your second climax hits. He’s sucking hard now, and you can feel him humping the mattress. He must be close. “Fuck, honey, I need you.” He rocks back onto his knees, fingers still thrusting even though his tongue is gone. He slides into you and you both moan, your thighs trembling around him.

You groan, biting your lip, pleading with your eyes. “God, Brendon, fuck me.”

“Jesus, babygirl, this time won’t last long, but I will make it up to you,” he promises, and you nod, mouth parted in a wordless cry as he thrusts against you hard. “Can you get back on your hands and knees, baby?”

You nod again, and he pulls out of you, gives your ass a quick swat as you turn, and rocks back into you. The hand holding yours is tight and you squeeze back, while his other hand is tangled in your hair and he pulls it lightly, leaning over to sink his teeth into your neck.

“Holy fucking shit, I’m close,” you moan, your entire body tensing in preparation. He swears; his thrusts are getting sloppy, and his rhythm is falling apart. You know he’s close, so you take charge of the pace, rocking back against his hips desperately as you tremble.

“Fuck, baby, I’m gonna come,” he gasps into your neck and his voice saying those words never fails to drive you wild. With another shrill cry, your pussy tightens around him with your third of the night and he tugs your hair again as he comes, hard. Those words will never fail to set you off, and the feeling of him coming in you will never fail to make you sigh happily. He thrusts a few times, and you can feel how much he came. It’s hot and slick, and you feel completely full and warm.

He pulls out of you after a moment, groaning. You both fall onto your backs, and you cling to his side. Your chest is rising and falling rapidly, and he whispers your name, pulling you to him tightly. His breath is hot on your neck, and you whimper, pressing into him. “We need to shower,” he whispers, fingers trailing along your pussy, stroking gently. “As much as I love feeling my cum mixed with all your sweetness here and dripping down your thighs…we should probably shower.”

“Don’t make me move, B. Love having your cum in me and all over me. Missed it so much. We can clean up later.”

“But won’t it feel…” he trails off and you shake your head. “Okay. We’ll clean up later, sweetheart.” You snuggle against him and feel yourself falling asleep against him.

With your last conscious thought, you press your lips to his chest. “Welcome home, baby.”

“I’m so glad to be home, babygirl.” His arms tighten around you, and you let yourself drift off to sleep.

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

18 notes · View notes