CASUAL AFFAIR; brendon urie

Chapter Forty

If I thought it had been a shock finding Brendon waiting to pick me up in the arrivals lounge at the airport, it had nothing on the cop banging on the car window as we got all hot and bothered in the driver's seat at the side of the road.

I should have been eaten up with embarrassment - not that I wasn't embarrassed, I mean, you try getting caught with your hand down someone's pants and not be abashed - but instead I just found it funny. Like splutter with a nervous giggle before laughing so hard your ribs hurt funny.

And Brendon - a wonderful, fantastic, amazing human being who I'd missed more than I can ever remember missing anyone - laughed along with me until it was physically impossible to make any noise but a weak splutter.

Of course, Brendon insisted on being the gentleman and carrying my suitcase up to my apartment - "That is, if you want me to come up," to which I'd circled my fingers around his wrist and lead him forward. And now here we were. I was just shutting the front door with my hip as Brendon wandered into the kitchen, calling 'Where do you want this?'

"Just dump it any old place." I gave a dismissive wave of my hand.

He set the case down with a soft grunt, before straightening and running a hand through his hair. A tuft stuck up at an awkward angle and I giggled. "C'mere." I said, going over to him and pushing up on my toes to reach his hair, and smooth it back down.

And when I was done, and I dropped my hand, we were face to face, standing close enough to one another that our hands were brushing. I bit my lip.

"Thank you for giving me a ride."

"S'nothing."

"The cop thing was unexpected."

"To say the least."

"I'd offer you something to drink, but I should probably unpack, or I'll totally neglect to do it for at least a week."

"It's fine. I should probably drive back. Did you take my boxers?"

"Alrighty. I'll text you. And yeah, I did. Is that a problem?"

"No. It's completely, totally hot."

"Oh. Well I guess I should wear them a little more."

"Mm hmm. I'll get out of your hair now."

Our hands brushed again, in a totally not accidental way. And I said "Should we?"

And he said. "Oh yeah."

And I jumped. And he caught me, and my legs wound around his hips, and my hands grabbed his hair in my loose fists.

And the way he was kissing me. I could finally understand why those sappy romance novels said 'he made me melt inside' because, oh boy, I was gooier than cookies straight out the oven.

I was just thinking that the thought of cookies whilst kissing Brendon was almost too much for a girl to handle when those damned fantastic lips of his broke contact to ask "Here?"

I shook my head, before giving his neck short, fast kisses (it must be said that Brendon Urie has a very nice, very kissable neck. Then again, he has a very nice, very kissable everything). I hadn't seen my bed in over a month. It hadn't seen Brendon in over two. I felt the urge to rectify that immediately.

And then, after we stumbled into my bedroom, Brendon opening the door with his ass, me shutting it over with mine, where there should have been the half jokey race to get undressed, there ... Wasn't. I was sitting atop Brendon's lap, as he sat on the end of my bed, my fingers still knotted in his hair whilst his hands clasped at my tailbone. And he said "Wanna make out?"