CASUAL AFFAIR; brendon urie

Chapter Nine

For a long while, neither of us spoke. I lay, propped up on my elbows, waiting for my heart rate to return to normal, my body to stop quivering, watching Brendon. Or, should I say, the back of Brendon. There was a sheen of sweat covering his back, and - oh my god, he has ass dimples. Honestly, hands down, one of the most conflictingly hot and adorable things I've ever seen. Glorifying Brendon's ass aside, I watched him reach down and pluck his boxers up, hitching one leg up awkwardly to pull it on, then the other.

That had been intense ... like, really intense. Had I forgotten how good sex was? Or was Brendon just that good? I mean, it had been a few months, but ... but that was still pretty mind-blowing.

I hadn't realised any part of me had moved until my fingers brushed the crumpled material of my dress, and I curled my fingers, clutching it. I was just straightening it out, over my body, smoothing it out as Brendon pulled his socks back on, his trousers. The leather of his buckle scraped as he pulled it tight, pushing the metal tooth through the hole.

I swear, it was so quiet, save for our breathing, now more regular and quieter, I could hear the cicadas outside, the faraway hoot of some night bird.

I scooted up on my butt, and draped the straps of my dress over my shoulders, playing with a tiny piece of thread loose on the skirt, and when I looked up again, Brendon was just reaching for his shirt, somewhere beside one of my feet, the one laid flat against the ground, still stretched out, and he paused. His brown eyes suddenly seemed so much more mature, wiser, than they had when I'd met him ... what, two, three hours ago? He straightened up, and a smile tugged one corner of his mouth up. "Aren't you gonna get dressed?"

I gave a small roll of my shoulders, a tiny shrug. I looked away from him, and down at my knuckles, curled up on my lap. "I guess I'm still recovering." I smiled a little. "Still in a state of shock, you know."

"I'd bet." Brendon grinned, and the lightness in his voice was infectious. Clearly, someone was happy about finding my G-spot. I smiled despite myself as I inspected the pale freckles on my wrists - those girlish, thin wrists. And suddenly, to my utter shock, there were fingers on my chin, tilting it upward, and I was looking into Brendon's eyes. "What's wrong?" a line creased his forehead, and his tone was full of concern.

I forced my lips up in a smile. "Nothing." My voice was far too chipper.

"Bullshit." And he plunked himself down facing me, beside me, resting his arms on the upward bend of his knees. He ran a hand through is hair, which stuck up and then flopped back down in the most cute way. He knocked one of his knees against mine.

"I-" my mouth did that thing where it opened, and formed words, but none came out. "I don't know what to say, Brendon." My fingers began to knead the skirt, pinching it. Brendon took my hand, pulling it away and holding it, swinging it a little, before letting me slip my fingers free.

"Whatever it is, I can handle it," he grinned goofily. "I'm a big boy."

Oh, I think we both know how well you established that. I shook my head, and abandoned the dress, instead running my fingers through my hair, pulling it over one shoulder. "I know ..." I shook my head a little again, and let out a laugh. "I really shouldn't be awkward right now, should I? Considering." I swallowed. "But I know that ... this, whatever it is, it will never ..."

"What?" Brendon leaned forward into himself, resting his chin on his bare arms. "It'll never be what?"

I uncurled my finger from my hair, and looked up, meeting his gaze full on. I commanded myself not to blink excessively, or look away, or anything else weak or embarrassing. "It will never mean as much to you as it did to me." My lip wavered, but I stuck my chin out defiantly. "This ... Brendon, I haven't slept with anyone in five months." I haven't let myself.