Brendon's been dating Joe for less than a week when Joe leans in close at the end of the night and says, "So, you going to invite me up or what?" And he grins and runs his thumb over Brendon's lower lip. "Not gonna lie, been thinking about what you can do with your mouth all night."
Brendon's skin runs hot and he wants, he wants to take Joe upstairs and, like, rip his clothes off and...and after that, he doesn't even know. Well, he knows. He's seen porn. He knows of at least a dozen different sex acts he wants to try. But he doesn't know, not really, so what he does is nip at Joe's thumb and say, "I wish. My roommate's home."
Joe grins and leans in. "We can be quiet," he whispers.
"We live in a studio," Brendon says apologetically. "But, um, next weekend, okay? Next weekend we can be alone."
And Joe seems disappointed, but he agrees to wait until that weekend. And Brendon climbs three flights of stairs to his studio apartment, rattles his key in the rusty lock that always sticks, and lets himself into the tiny apartment he and Spencer have shared for almost an entire year.
It started off as just Brendon's apartment, but then Spencer's girlfriend had kicked him out and he'd needed a place to crash for a couple weeks, and then he'd just stayed. They even got a bunk bed, which other people made fun of, but Brendon thinks is awesome. He's always loved bunk beds.
Spencer's bleary eyed in front of his computer when Brendon walks in. He's started working on his thesis, and all he has so far is a title, An examination of the effects of social positioning and capitalist immersion on gendered attitudes towards homosexuality, a couple paragraphs, and a lot of notes.
"Please tell me you haven't been sitting there the whole time I was out," Brendon says as he shuffles over to their questionable stove and peers into the kettle. It's still half full of water, so he flips on the burner and leans against the counter, waiting for it to boil.
Spencer rubs his hands over his face. "You're home early. What time is it?"
"A little after ten."
"Really?" Spencer seems surprised.
"You study too hard."
Spencer grins at him, "I really don't. How was your date?"
Brendon sighs loudly. Then, because he likes how miserable it makes him sound, he sighs again.
"No. I just, you know. Agreed to have sex with him next weekend. You can't be here, by the way. You're going to have to camp out in the library while I have completely terrible and humiliating sex."
"It won't be--"
"Oh, it will," Brendon says glumly. "I'm going to be awful and he'll laugh in my face."
"Maybe if you just tell him--"
"That's even worse! If I tell him I'm a virgin, I'll be humiliated. If I just have really terrible sex with him, I'll also be humiliated, but hopefully I'll get an orgasm out of it."
"You're exaggerating," Spencer says.
"I am not. I never exaggerate."
Spencer raises one eyebrow.
Thankfully, that's when the kettle starts to whistle. Brendon turns around and makes them tea. Spencer likes peppermint tea with nothing in it. Brendon likes apple cardamom cinnamon tea with sugar and milk. Greta, the lesbian down the hall, keeps them rolling in herbal tea, and they're pretty much addicted.
A lot of times, Brendon just says what he's thinking without ever really thinking about what he's saying. So as Spencer takes and deep whiff of the peppermit aroma of his tea, Brendon says, "You should take my virginity."
Spencer chokes and sets his tea down, sucking on his thumb where the hot water had sloshed over the side and burned him. "What?"
Brendon thinks about what he just said. It's still an amazing idea, so he says it again, "You should take my virginity. Show me the ropes. Then I won't have to tell Joe that I'm a virgin because I won't be one. And I'll know what the hell I'm doing."
"No," says Spencer.
Brendon blinks at him. "What?"
"No way," Spencer says. He sits back down at his desk and takes a sip of tea. "You can fumble and feel stupid while losing your virginity just like every other person on the entire planet."
Brendon frowns. "You are a mean, terrible person," he says.
Brendon sulks for the rest of the night. It's not his fault he's a virgin. Or, okay, it sort of is, but it's not his fault that it took him 20 years to come to terms with his sexuality. Even in high school when most of his friends, including Spencer, were openly bisexual, Brendon couldn't even admit to himself that he wanted cock. He'd had a very conservative upbringing, okay? It wasn't his fault.
He'd only come out to his friends a year earlier, and since Brendon's friends were assholes, not even one of them had pretended to be surprised. And Brendon had considered dating, but it seemed terrifying. It was one thing for his closest friends to know he was into guys; it was a completely different thing to, like, go on a date with a strange person and admit that he was attracted to them and hope that they were attracted to him and then get naked and, like, get bodily fluids on each other.
Now that he's older, Brendon wants the nakedness and the sweat and the come. He wants some hot guy pressing him up against wall and kissing him until both their jaws ache. He wants another guy's cock in his hands, in his mouth, in his ass. He wants to have so much sex that his legs are too weak to hold him up. He wants to spend days at a time without any clothes on. He wants to know what it's like to wake up with somebody asleep against him.
"I'm never going to get laid," he says mournfully from the top bunk.
Spencer turns off his reading light and the bottom bunk, and the rest of the apartment, goes dark. "You're going to get laid."
"I won't. I won't ever get laid and I'll die a virgin and you'll just have to live with that, because it will be your fault."
Spencer actually laughs at that, because Spencer's a giant jerkface and Brendon doesn't even want to have sex with him, anyway.
Except, he kind of does. Brendon looks at pretty much every guy he meets and tries to figure out of he'd sleep with them or not, and even though he's horny, he's also kind of picky. He rejects about 90% of the guys he looks at out of hand, and not just because of their looks. Brendon's horny, sure, but he doesn't know if he'll ever be horny enough to sleep with somebody who drives a Hummer or talks shit about people behind their backs or hates dogs.
Spencer likes dogs and dislikes gossip. He gave his car to his sisters because it was impractical to keep downtown and he rides his bike most everywhere. He helped Brendon put together a realistic budget when he was stressed about money and all his student loans. He always remembers that Brendon doesn't like black olives on pizza. He would have been a good guy to have sex with for the first time.
On Saturday morning, Brendon tries not to think about the upcoming disaster with Joe and instead distracts himself with chores. He cleans out the fridge and organizes the kitchen cabinets and is just about to start alphabetizing the DVDs when Spencer throws a pillow at him and says, "It's too early. Go clean in the bathroom. With the door closed. Quietly."
So Brendon does. He scrubs down the shower stall and the sink, cleans the toilet, empties the garbage of tissues and Q-tips. Then when he's done, he takes a shower as hot as he can stand it and scrubs his skin and even cleans between his toes.
"You take the longest showers in the history of showers," Spencer says sleepily as Brendon emerges in a billow of steam, towel wrapped around his waist.
"Even my toes are clean," Brendon tells him.
Spencer makes a noncommittal sound and looks back at the book he's reading, Selected Writings in Semiotic Theory. Brendon doesn't even know what that means. The last book Brendon read was Sideways Stories from Wayside School, and he'd actually been reading it aloud to 3rd graders at the time.
Spencer's sprawled on his bed, sheets wrapped around his legs, but his bare thigh is visible where his boxers are pushed up. Brendon looks at Spencer's thigh, at the golden hair dusting the skin, and he wants to sink to his knees and kiss Spencer's thigh and--
"I think you should reconsider," Brendon says, sitting on the edge of Spencer's bed and very pointedly not looking at Spencer's bare thigh.
"Hmm?" Spencer asks. He yawns again and flips a page back in his book. He's not really reading it, Brendon can tell. He doesn't even object when Brendon gently closes the book and sets it on the floor beneath Spencer's bunk.
Spencer watches him warily and doesn't react when Brendon reaches out to touch his face. He doesn't react, but he doesn't pull away, either.
"You're, like, the best choice I could ever make," Brendon says. He runs his fingers over the stubble on Spencer's jaw. "Like, if I'm going to sleep with anybody for the first time, it would be really cool if it was you."
Spencer takes a deep breath. He hasn't moved, but he is reacting. Brendon can see how hard he is and he reaches down to touch him.
"Whoa, hey, whoa," Spencer says, grabbing Brendon's wrist. "The very first lesson of sex is this: you need to have the other person's consent."
"Doesn't your hard on count as consent?" Brendon asks. Spencer's only wearing boxers, so it's kind of obvious.
Spencer frowns, "No. You can be attracted to someone and still not want to have sex with them."
Brendon frowns, too, then his eyes get huge. "Did I almost just commit a sex crime?"
"It almost got a little molesty there for a second," Spencer admits.
Brendon drops his head. "See, this is why I need you to teach me sex stuff. I don't even know, like, basic courtesy."
Spencer says, "Brendon--"
"Okay," Brendon says, jumping up. "Okay, just in case you want to see what I'm offering, this is me naked." He tugs at his towel and lets it drop to the floor. He's completely naked, standing there in front of Spencer with his arms spread. He feels a little stupid, but mostly he's just really turned on.
"Brendon," Spencer whispers.
"You said you were attracted to me. You just said it, like, not even a minute ago. And I'm ready and willing to learn."
"You're my best friend. And I trust you to teach me the right stuff. And I'm attracted to you, too. Obviously. It's not like I want this to become a thing, just, you know. Sex. Good sex, hopefully. I think maybe a lot of that is going to be up to you."
Spencer sighs and he says, "Okay."
Brendon doesn't give him a chance to take it back. He climbs onto Spencer's bed and starts kissing him hard. He straddles Spencer's lap, and he can feel Spencer's hard dick pressing up against his ass, and it feels amazing. "I think," he gasps as Spencer's hands slide possessively over his skin. "I think for the first order of business, you should fuck me."
Spencer laughs against his mouth, "You don't want to work up to that?"
"Nope. You know I'm a 'jump in with both feet' kind of guy." Brendon pulls away and twists so he can stretch out on his belly, his cock digging into the mattress in a really good way. He feels Spencer moving behind him, parts his legs so Spencer can kneel between them. He feels Spencer's hand on his upper thigh, hears Spencer take a breath, and his stomach twists in anticipation.
Then Brendon gasps, because that's Spencer's mouth. Those are Spencer's hands pushing his thighs apart and that's Spencer's tongue, lapping at his hole. Brendon presses his face into the mattress and moans because wow, oh, wow, he didn't even know. He's seen rimming in porn, but he had no idea that it would feel so good.
"This all right?" Spencer asks, his breath hot against Brendon's skin.
"Yes," Brendon whispers, and that and, "God," are the only two words he remembers exist for the next ten minutes. He comes so hard, Spencer's fingers twisting deep inside him, that he whites out for a couple of seconds, and when he comes back to reality, he's shaking.
"You okay?" Spencer asks. His voice is low and thick, darker than Brendon's ever heard it before. He kisses the small of Brendon's back, then licks a long stripe up Brendon's spine.
"Awesome," Brendon whispers. "Kinda bummed you didn't get to fuck me, though."
Spencer grins against the back of Brendon's neck. "Gonna fuck you right now," he says.
"But I already--"
"And now you're all relaxed and ready for me," Spencer tells him.
Brendon hears the crinkle of plastic foil, feels Spencer shift on the bed and realizes he's putting on a condom. Brendon's toes curl. He is completely relaxed and ready, drunk on endorphins, and when Spencer slides inside, the only pain is a vague ache that's so good, it turns Brendon's spine liquid. It's too soon for him to get hard again, but it doesn't even matter. The slow, deliberate way Spencer fucks him is so, so good.
When Spencer comes, the choked-off, desperate sounds he makes are amazing. Brendon thinks he's going to jerk off for years remembering the sounds Spencer made.
When Spencer rolls off him, he keeps his hand on the small of Brendon's back and traces his thumb up and down the curve of Brendon's spine.
"Okay," Brendon says after he stops shaking. "Okay, so, I know I don't have anything to compare it to, but I think that was pretty amazing. Like, that was good sex, wasn't it? I don't just think it was amazing because it's the only sex I've ever had, right?"
"It was pretty fucking amazing," Spencer confirms.
Brendon smiles. "Good." He starts to roll over, but it takes him a second since he's starting to stick to the sheets. Once he does roll over, he scratches lazily at the come drying on his stomach.
"We should maybe set some boundaries," Spencer tells him.
Brendon shakes his head. "No boundaries. I want to try everything. If I'm not into it, I'll let you know, but I'm pretty sure I'm going to be into anything you want to show me."
"This isn't," Spencer says softly. "Shit like this can get messy."
"It won't get messy," Brendon says, yawning. "From now until Friday, we have all the sex we can imagine, and then when I finally sleep with Joe he won't think I'm pathetic and break up with me."
Spencer's fingers are gentle against his hip. "From now until Friday," Spencer says.
On Sunday, they make out in the shower and jerk each other off. Later that afternoon, Brendon learns how to suck cock. When he looks up at Spencer and says, "I'm not very good at this. I think I'm going to need a lot more practice," Spencer's answering smile is breathtaking.
"I think," Brendon gasps on Monday night, TV on but unwatched, Spencer on his knees between Brendon's legs. "I think you've got an, um, a thingie." It's so hard to think when he feels so good.
Spencer lifts his head up and says, "An oral fixation. Yeah," and goes back to sucking Brendon's brains out through his cock.
On Tuesday, Brendon learns that sixty-nine isn't as hot as he always imagined it would be. He also learns that fucking is almost as good as getting fucked. Almost, but not quite.
Brendon loves the way he can get Spencer moaning and squirming beneath him just by sucking on his nipples. He likes showing off, is self-conscious but so turned on as he jerks off with Spencer watching, as he spreads his legs and fingers himself just because Spencer asks.
On Thursday, Brendon's doing dishes in the sink when Spencer gets home from class. Spencer presses himself against Brendon's back, unbuttons his jeans and tugs them down his thighs, bends Brendon over the sink and fucks him hard and fast without even saying a word.
On Friday morning, Brendon thinks he's going to wake Spencer up with a blow job, but when he sits up he sees Spencer already awake, on the other side of the room, packing clothes into a duffle bag.
"Where are you going?" Brendon asks.
Spencer looks over at him, then looks down at the floor. "Greta said I could crash at her place tonight," he says. "So, you know. The apartment's yours for the night."
It takes Brendon a while to remember that he has a date with Joe, that he's supposed to invite Joe up and amaze him with his awesome sex skills. "Oh," he says softly. "Right. Um, thanks."
Spencer shrugs and says, "Don't worry about it." Then he packs up his backpack and is out the door, gone before seven o'clock in the morning even though his first class isn't until ten.
Brendon doesn't have any classes on Fridays, just a couple hours of observation at the local elementary school. He loves working with kids. He won't start his student teaching for another semester, but he can hardly wait. The only thing he doesn't like about teaching is how when the kids call him Mr. Urie, he still thinks they're referring to his father.
He meets Joe for dinner at seven, then they walk around window shopping for a while and head over to see a jazz band that one of Joe's friends is in. Brendon likes it, but Joe's bored, and they only stay half an hour.
When they get to Brendon's apartment building, Joe grins and kisses him and says, "So, we going upstairs or what?"
Brendon means to say, "Yes," but what he says instead of that is, "This isn't working. I'm sorry."
He calls Spencer as he climbs the stairs. "You should come home," he tells him. "Joe isn't coming over."
"Are you okay?" Spencer asks. "Did something happen?"
"No," Brendon says. "Just come back to the apartment, okay?"
By the time Brendon reaches the third floor, Greta's front door is open and Spencer's standing half in and half out of the hallway. "Are you really okay?"
Brendon nods and shuffles over to Spencer, doesn't stop when he gets close, just presses himself into Spencer's arms, wraps his arms around Spencer's waist. They hold on to each other for a long time, until Greta's cat meows and butts its head against Brendon's ankle, and Greta says, "Shut the door before Marmalade gets out."
"Do you want to tell me what happened?" Spencer asks once they're back in their apartment.
"Nothing happened. I just realized that I didn't want him."
Spencer nods. "Okay," he says.
Brendon takes a deep breath. He feels stupid, but he has to say it anyway, even if he ends up humiliating himself. "I want you. I only want you, Spence."
Spencer looks up at him, and he looks...hopeful.
"I know it wasn't supposed to be, that it was just supposed to be sex so that I could go out and, like, fuck with abandon, but I don't want to. The only person I want to be with is you."
Spencer's smile is gentle and sweet, but his voice is dark with want when he tugs Brendon towards him and says, "Yeah."