Spencer sort of thinks that deciding to have sex with his bandmates might be the single worst idea he's ever had in his whole entire life. They must have caught him at a really, really low point because he can't for the life of him think of a single reason why voluntarily taking his clothes off in the vicinity of Brendon, Ryan or Jon would be a good idea.
Spencer is fast forming the opinion that he hates just about everybody he's ever met. He also thinks it's perfectly valid that Brendon, Ryan and Jon share the top spot, the number one position on his hate list.
Whenever he's thought about, well, orgies, in the past - and he has, because he's a guy and lesbian threesomes tend to figure quite highly in your brain if you've got an x and a y chromosome - he's always ended up fixating on the idea of intertwining legs and people's hands and the sheen of sweat and people, well, moaning in ecstasy. He never imagined that there might be actual, um, arguing. He had clearly never fantasized about any orgy involving Brendon-fucking-Urie then.
This whole debacle had been Brendon's stupid fucking idea in the first place, and yes, Spencer had agreed to it so he was partly to blame, but he wasn't the one who had found the TV remote at some point between suggesting that they all get naked and the point where they actually took their clothes off. Brendon had found some old re-run of The OC and instead of orchestrating this stupid fucking group-sex-orgy thing (Brendon had said, Hey guys, you know what we should do tonight? HAVE SEX. Come on Spencer Smith, orgasms. Spencer could never resist orgasms. Sometimes, Spencer even hated himself) he'd just got them all naked and then got totally engrossed in whatever was happening on the television over Spencer's shoulder.
Ryan, on the other hand, was supposed to be giving Spencer a blow job but they were five minutes into this so-called orgy and Spencer hadn't seen any sign of any actual sex yet. Jon had shown them this really cool thing he could do with his belly button and a pencil (Spencer fought a sudden and totally rational hatred of Jon, just for that moment, because Ryan's eyes had widened and he'd leaned over Spencer and said, do that again, Jon, how- and Spencer was left hating Ryan too. How hard was it for someone to give Spencer a blow job?). Brendon had missed it because he was too busy watching Summer in a bikini on the television and any hatred Spencer had reserved for Brendon was completely understandable because Brendon had one hand on Spencer's shoulder and he was loudly protesting "-bikini, Spencer, fucking look at the tits and ass on her-". Spencer was left circling his hand around Brendon's wrist, thumb against his pulse-point, and pointing out very carefully that Brendon was actually surrounded by fucking hard ons and asses and at some point it might be nice if he could fucking concentrate on something other than the television and Summer's ass.
It was a nice ass, there was no disputing it. But Spencer was naked here, naked and he'd been promised an orgasm. Some things took fucking priority over Summer.
Brendon was alternating between looking really sad because Spencer's head was in the way of the television, looking really turned on because he was surrounded by really hot naked people (Spencer wasn't a fool, he knew they were hot) and really fucking engaged with The stupid OC. Spencer hated Brendon.)
And Ryan still hadn't given Spencer his fucking blow job.
"Ryan," Spencer said, very carefully, decidedly not making a fist and punching any of them in the face. "Ryan, what the fuck are you doing?"
Ryan had given up trying to get Jon to repeat his trick with the pencil and was staring at Spencer's dick.
This was all very well and good, Spencer thought, he quite liked being looked at and his erection seemed to quite like it too, but you know what his erection would like more? Being fucking blown.
"I'm getting into the right headspace," Ryan told Spencer, not taking his eyes off Spencer's erection.
Spencer blinked, and mentally gave himself a pat on the back for not killing Ryan where he knelt. "It's a fucking blow job, Ross," Spencer pointed out, measuredly. "Will you just get on and do it already?"
"In a minute." Ryan bit his lip, rubbing his hands against his stupid skinny thighs. "I'm preparing myself."
Spencer rolled his eyes and decided that the further away from Ryan he was, the better. He leaned back against the couch cushions and congratulated himself for his restraint. Jon - naked and with his feet up on the coffee table - punched Spencer's shoulder in a manly, conspiratorial manner. Spencer winced and concentrated on not beating Jon to death with his own flip-flop; Jon's manly conspiratorial punches tended to leave bruises.
Jon's thigh brushed up against Spencer's. Spencer's cock jumped. He couldn't be bothered stifling his groan of frustration, reaching out to grab Ryan's shoulder, pull him closer. "Ryan, will you just, oh for fuck's sake-"
"Shut the fuck up, Spencer," Ryan said, tightly, elbowing Brendon out of the way, "God, you're going to get your dick sucked, just stop being such a fucking pussy about waiting two fucking minutes-"
"You know what?" Spencer said, pissily, reaching for his erection, "I'm just going to do it myself."
"You are not." Ryan told him, sharply, grabbing Spencer's wrists and pushing him further back against the couch cushions. "I'm just getting ready-"
"Ryan, fuck-" Ryan was such a fucking skeleton that it took Spencer about a second and a half to break free. "Jeez. By the time you get round to sucking me off, my dick will have shriveled up, Ross."
"Guys," Jon said, pretty helplessly. His hand was on Spencer's thigh, low down near his knee. Spencer would hate him, just because, but Jon's kind of twisted on the couch so that his dick was pressed up against Spencer's hip; Spencer kind of liked that.
"Guys," Brendon echoed, shoving at Ryan's shoulder. "Seriously, I totally missed what Summer just said. Some quiet, please?"
Spencer was beginning to think it was pretty fucking amazing he hadn't killed them all before now. Blargh, he thought, and didn't punch any of them.
This whole naked-times thing was possibly the worst idea any of them had ever had, and Spencer had not-so fond memories of the rose vest incident. Spencer was also pretty sure that there wouldn't be a court in the land who wouldn't say killing his bandmates wasn't justifiable homicide. Seriously, he had no clue why they were even doing this. It was all Brendon's fault; he had wowed them all with the idea of orgasms and clearly their dicks had done the rest of the thinking. Jesus. Spencer couldn't even look at them. He fantasized about lesbians, for fuck's sake. He totally had a DVD hidden under his mattress called Lesbian Spank Inferno. Well, okay, it wasn't exactly hidden since they'd all watched it the previous weekend and Jon had done a pretty funny commentary over the soundtrack, but still. The point was that this wasn't exactly what he got off on. Ryan was too fucking skinny and was all pointy and even more annoyingly, he still hadn't blown Spencer, (seriously, Spencer was going to fucking explode if the promised orgasms didn't show up soon), Jon was too laid back and Brendon was even more annoying than Ryan and he wouldn't shut up. Like, ever.
Which made it all the more ironic - possibly in the Alanis Morrisette sense, Spencer didn't really know and he wasn't particularly in the mood to argue it out with Ryan—was that Brendon was currently telling them to shut up because apparently he couldn't hear the television over them talking. Spencer was inclined to punch him in the face.
There was the smallest possibility that Spencer might have some anger-management issues.
On the other hand, Jon had his feet up on the coffee table and he was still wearing his flip-flops. Spencer knew pretty much everything there was to know about shoes, and he also knew quite a lot about the etiquette of sex - more so than fucking Brendon, who was still watching the TV over Spencer's shoulder - and having (or not-having, Spencer was quietly going crazy here) gay sex orgies while naked but still wearing footwear was definitely not in the manual. Spencer decided that he wasn't going to talk to Jon again until Jon had taken them off.
Jon grinned at him and wiggled his toes.
Spencer was back to hating Jon again.
And fucking Ryan. "Jesus fucking Christ, Ryan," Spencer exploded, finally. He was going to eat his own arm in frustration, he really was. All he wanted was a fucking orgasm. "Will you just get a move on with whatever it is you're doing down there?"
Ryan flipped him the bird, and if it was even scientifically possible, started watching him more slowly.
Brendon had finally decided to pay attention because The OC had gone to a commercial break. "Dudes," he said, clapping his hands together, sitting back on his haunches and grinning, "Dudes. Seriously, why isn't anyone sucking me off, be-atches?"
Spencer stopped himself from kicking Brendon in the face.
Jon squeezed Spencer's thigh in a manly, conspiratorial manner. Spencer tried not to wince. Jon fucking hurt. "Come over here, Brendon," Jon said, shuffling up against the back of the couch so that Brendon could kneel over him. Jon's hand still rested on Spencer's thigh, moving higher up into the curve of his pelvis. Spencer privately thought that Jon might have just moved down his hit list.
Brendon fucking pouted.
"What the fuck's wrong with you now?" Spencer asked, partly out of sheer frustration because Brendon was clearly going to get his dick sucked before Spencer, and he'd been able to watch a whole ten minutes of Summer in her bikini too. The world clearly sucked.
"Can't see the TV from there," Brendon said, pointing at where Jon was sitting, ready and waiting and licking his lips.
Spencer hated, just on principle. "Oh, for fuck's sake," he said, tightly, "- Ryan, seriously, will you just suck me off? Why does everything have to be fucking researched and planned with you? It's a fucking blow job, not a work of art - Brendon, I'm going to kill you, I swear to God-" and Spencer leaned over to where he could see the TV remote sticking out from behind Jon's discarded jeans. He turned the TV off and threw the remote in the direction of the kitchen, where it made a sad, breaking sort of a noise and bounced behind a pile of Ryan's crap.
For a second, Brendon looked as if he might cry.
Spencer blinked. "Oh, for fuck's sake," he managed, trying - and failing - to roll his eyes. He hated everyone. Ever. "Come here," he said, leaning over and grabbing Brendon's shoulder, pressing his mouth to Brendon's.
Brendon—who was half way through telling Spencer that he could have taped the end of the episode—promptly stopped talking and started licking his way into Spencer's mouth. Which—urgh. Spencer had once been licked in the mouth by a dog and it had been bad enough without reliving the experience when he should have been half way to an orgasm. "What the shit was that?"
Brendon grinned. "Sexy licking," he said, proudly. "Girls go for it."
Spencer wiped his mouth, carefully. "They don't," he said. "Unless they're stupid. God, you're so stupid, Urie."
Brendon beamed and kissed Spencer again.
God, Spencer just hated everyone.
Ryan, however, had finally finished weighing up the pros and cons of sucking Spencer off, or finished composing a love song in iambic pentameter to the curve of Spencer's hips or seriously, whatever the fuck he'd been doing down there for the past hour. Ryan pushed Brendon away, pressed the flat of his hand to Spencer's chest and bent down to take Spencer's erection in his mouth.
Spencer's head fell back against the wall in sheer fucking relief. "About fucking time, Ross," he managed, failing to stifle a groan.
Jon took Brendon's dick in at about the same moment, and Brendon swallowed, noisily. "Fuck, Jon, yes-" Brendon said, loudly, next to Spencer's ear.
Spencer tried not to listen.
"Come on, like that, come on, big boy-"
Spencer tried not to chew off his own tongue. "Fucking shut up, Brendon," He hissed, punching Brendon in the shoulder.
Brendon leaned over and kissed him, open-mouthed and wet. Spencer arched up, kissing him back. "Shut up yourself," Brendon said, gasping a breath and leaning forwards so Jon was taking more of him in, which-
Fuck. That was- Spencer swallowed. Hot.
"Yeah, like that Jon, come on, you know you want to, look at your filthy mouth, fuck, yeah, this is good-"
Spencer was going to kill him, Spencer was going to kill him, Spencer was going to kill him.
"Seriously," Ryan said, pulling off Spencer's dick and sitting back onto his haunches, hands on his hips, "Spencer, would it kill you to give me some sort of verbal cues too?"
Spencer put his head in his hands and moaned. He was going to leave the band, he decided, he was going to leave and he was going to take his Lesbian Spank Inferno DVD and he would have a better life. He hated them all. "Fuck," he managed.
"That'll do," Ryan said, after a moment, and buried his face in Spencer's crotch.
- Ryan was apparently quite good at deep-throating.
Afterwards, when Spencer had finally got to have his orgasm and he'd managed to mostly wipe the memory of Brendon coming (eyes screwed shut, shouting something that sounded very like aha that's the way I like it, aha aha) and then he'd got to watch Jon and Ryan jerk each other off whilst Brendon tried to find the TV remote—afterwards, Spencer thought that maybe he wouldn't leave the band just yet. At least not until after he'd had a shower.
The Panic at the Disco rules for Happy Naked-Times, version 1.0.
1. No flip-flops to be worn during sex.
2. No television, even if it's an episode you haven't seen in ages.
3. If all else fails, lock Brendon outside the fucking bus.
Spencer seriously regretted his decision not to leave the bus the next time that they all took their clothes off and attempted to get down to a group sex orgy thing. Seriously, Spencer thought, peeling off his jeans and trying not to kick Brendon in the head, my life is so dysfunctional.
"So," Brendon was saying, "You know what would have made The OC so much better?"
Spencer ground his fist into the couch cushions.
"Shut up, Brendon," Ryan said, taking his t-shirt off and dropping it on the floor. "Shoes, Jon."
Spencer liked Ryan. Ryan knew the rules.
Jon shrugged and toed off his flip-flops.
Spencer might even like Jon.
"No, seriously guys. It would have totally made it the best show ever."
"Naked-Happy-Times!" Brendon told them, beaming. "Think how happy everyone would have been then."
Spencer definitely hated Brendon. He might go so far as to want him actually dead.
"Yeah," Ryan said, rolling his eyes. "Because look how happy naked-happy-times are making us right now."
"Ryan," Brendon told him, patiently, poking him in the belly button, "that's because you're all dicks. Talking of dicks, who's going to suck mine?"
Ryan looked slightly sickened. "My belly button," he said. "Dude. What the hell?"
Spencer rolled his eyes. Five more minutes and he was totally going to quit the band. He was. "How about sucking me off," he told Brendon, "at least it'd shut you up."
"I was going to do that," Ryan said, petulantly. He had one hand over his stomach, arching away from Brendon. He flicked Brendon in the neck.
"I am here, you know," Jon said, from somewhere behind Spencer's shoulder.
Spencer pushed Brendon down onto his knees. "I know how long I had to wait last time, Ross. Could have accidentally died waiting for you to get down to it."
"You came, didn't you? Stop fucking whining, Spence."
"You guys," Brendon said, kneeling about three centimeters from the head of Spencer's dick with his mouth open, "you think if they'd all been naked in The OC then Marissa would still have died?"
Spencer hated everyone.
"Guys," Jon said, forlornly, "is there something wrong with my dick?"
Spencer blinked. "What the shit?" he asked, because Brendon was sitting back on his haunches and peering over Spencer's knee.
"Well," Brendon said shrugging, "it curves a bit to the left."
Ryan wrinkled his nose and leaned over Spencer to take a look. "No it doesn't," he said, cuffing Brendon round the head. "It curves right."
Brendon cocked his head to one side, then the other. "Oh," he said. "Yes."
Spencer clenched his fists.
"I just meant," Jon said, staring down at his erection, "that no one seemed to want to suck me." He blinked, and poked at his dick with one finger. "You think it curves?"
"Oh, for fuck's sake," Spencer said, rolling his eyes and pushing Brendon out of the way. "It's a lovely dick. I want to take photos of it and keep them in my wallet. It dances to a special tune all of its own."
"What tune?" Brendon asked. "Can I sing the chorus?"
"No," Spencer said, and knelt down between Jon's knees. Orgies were supposed to be about erections and orgasms; Spencer knew the rules. "I'm actually going to die before I get to come," he said, grumpily, and elbowed Brendon in the side. "Shut up, Brendon." And then he sucked Jon's cock.
Cocksucking was all very well and good, but Spencer was inclined to believe it was easier to concentrate if Ryan fucking Ross wasn't kneeling over him and saying "-not that it's a bad thing, but it definitely curves-" all while Spencer was sucking the hell out of the head.
"I hate you all," Spencer said, stopping for breath. Jon groaned, somewhere up above him, and his fingers tightened in Spencer's hair, pulling him in closer. Spencer smacked him away. "Not the fucking hair, dude. Jeez."
"Don't mess with the hair, Jonwalker." Brendon said, sadly. "Spencer has issues."
"I do not," Spencer said, sitting back on his haunches and ignoring Jon's strangled whine. "I just-"
- Jon came on his face.
"Holy fuck," Brendon managed, tightly. "Crap."
Jon groaned. "Spencer-"
"You came on my face," Spencer said. He hated everybody. Absolutely every fucking person he'd ever met. This was never, ever going to happen again. "Someone get me a fucking towel."
"Spence-" Ryan said, and he ran his thumb down Spencer's cheek.
"What," Spencer said, grumpily, poking Jon in the thigh. "You came on my face."
"Spencer, fuck," Ryan said again, and then he leaned in and licked Spencer's cheek.
"What the fuck, Ryan?" Spencer ducked backwards. He'd already explained his views on sexy licking last time, and he wasn't exactly in the mood for explaining his argument all over again. In no way at all was his dick suddenly extra-hard.
"Oooh," Brendon said, coming back in with a towel and handing it to Spencer. "Can I have a go?"
It wasn't a towel, it was Spencer's favorite t-shirt. He contemplated punching Brendon in the head. "Nobody else is licking my face," Spencer said, decidedly, ignoring the way his dick pulsed. "Is someone going to give me a fucking orgasm any time soon? I thought you were going to suck me off, Brendon."
Brendon shrugged, leaning over and licking Jon's cheek. "Not until you let me lick you," he said. "You let Ryan. Jon and I want a go."
"We do?" Jon asked. He was still pink-cheeked from his orgasm. All over Spencer's face, and no, Spencer hadn't forgotten that and wouldn't be any time soon.
Even if it was kind of hot.
"Sure we do," Brendon said, easily. "Plus, Ryan got to."
"Will someone in here give me an orgasm if I let you lick my fucking face?" Spencer said, finally. He was willing to put up with a lot for the sake of orgasms, but after this time, he swore he was sticking to Lesbian Spank Inferno. Apparently there were sequels. He was going to order parts two through six and never, ever get naked with his bandmates ever again.
"Sure," Brendon said, easily, dropping down onto the floor and running his tongue up Spencer's cheek.
Spencer's breath caught. He cleared his throat awkwardly and poked Jon in the leg, just because.
"I want a go," Ryan said, sulkily. "How come no one sucks my cock?"
Spencer looked down at Ryan's lap. Pointedly. "Have you seen the size of your cock?" he asked. "I'd choke."
"I wouldn't," Jon said, happily. "I've got good breathing control."
"My cock isn't that big," Ryan said, poking Spencer in the side. "You could totally take it."
"Hmm," Spencer said.
"Did I mention I can deep-throat?" Jon said. "I'm just throwing that out there."
"Move, Spence," Ryan said, clumsily elbowing Spencer out of the way. "Jon's going to suck me off."
"Who is going to jerk me off," Spencer said, pitifully, moving out of the way so that Ryan could sit on the couch and Jon could kneel down in between his skinny legs. "I swear, after this I'm going back to Lesbian Spank Inferno."
Brendon just rolled his eyes. "Get your ass up here, Smith, I'll jerk you off. I'm a guaranteed orgasm," he told him. "I'm gonna be your Lesbian Spank Inferno right here, Spence."
Spencer blinked. "What the fuck does that even mean, Urie?"
Brendon just waggled his eyebrows and moved so there was space on the couch next to him for Spencer to sit down.
"This is the worst fucking orgy in the history of orgies," Spencer grumbled.
Ryan just rolled his eyes, leaned over and kissed him. His lips were dry. "Shut the fuck up, else we won't tell you where we've hidden your precious DVD."
Spencer hated each and every one of them. Apart from Brendon, when he closed his fist around Spencer's erection, and Ryan, when he leaned in to kiss him again, and Jon, when he finished sucking Ryan off and then buried his face in Spencer's crotch, letting his mouth meet Brendon's fingers.
Then Spencer came, in Jon's mouth and across his chin and Brendon's hand. Ryan just leaned in and kissed him till he'd caught his breath.
...Okay, maybe he didn't hate getting naked with his band so much as he said he did.
Although he was definitely killing them all if they didn't give him back his copy of Lesbian Spank Inferno any time soon.
The Panic at the Disco rules for Happy Naked-Times, version 2.0.
1. No flip-flops to be worn during sex.
2. No television, even if it's an episode you haven't seen in ages.
3. If all else fails, lock Brendon outside the fucking bus.
4. No hiding of Spencer's porn, else he'll punch you all in the throat.
5. In the event of Spencer being grumpy, suck him off.