Brendon Urie: Imagines and ficlets

When a massage is not just a massage 2/?

Oh, god, his mouth, you think, as his full lips meet yours. You've never seen, felt, such luscious lips on a white boy (mostly white, he's a quarter Asian; you remember his mom, Grace), and if you're honest, you've had thoughts about them.

A lot of thoughts, even in class and other times you can't act on them, ones that have you clenching your thighs together to put pressure on your vulva, wanting to touch yourself so bad. Ones that do have you touching yourself, figuring out how to make yourself burst again, feeling as if you'd forgotten from when you were in junior high, when the shame stopped you doing it for years. Until less than two months ago, you'd only come since then in dreams, and a few times with a boy, usually during dry humping, if he let you rub on him for long enough and didn't mess with your rhythm too much. One guy did a couple times when he went down on you, but stopped once he got you off, wanting to stick it in, leaving you grateful but disappointed, wanting more of his mouth. Only one other guy has ever put his mouth there, and that guy acted like it was a big chore that you should fall to your knees in gratitude over for the few seconds he did it. Still, it's all your thinking about half the damn time, doing that with Brendon.

He'd probably be crazy good at it with a mouth like that--you had to admit you were jealous of Ryan, getting that wonderful boy and his amazing mouth. Brendon had told you they did that to each other, a lot, and used hands, and rubbed on each other, after you asked him one night what it is that guys did, anyway, alcohol loosening both your tongues. He didn't think fucking was just sticking it in, but mostly the other stuff you could do, whether it was two guys, two girls, or a guy and a girl. Besides, he said, Ryan was too big for him, so they only did it the other way around, and only a few times. It took a lot of prep, and you had to be really careful, so they didn't usually bother, getting lost in the lubed, condom-covered fingers up the ass and the sucking and so on.

It was the first time you'd come across that, a guy thinking everything was sex, was fucking. And him telling you about him and Ryan turned you on. Like a lot--it was strange how much you liked him describing it for you, even thinking about them together then and later. Which only made you fantasize and dream about him more, wishing he would make an exception in his sexual orientation for you.

You realize you've pressed yourself against him shamelessly, crotch to crotch and you can feel him hard against you--oh god, he's liking this, he really is, the thought just turning you on even more. You've kept on kissing, his hands now running down your back to your ass, pulling you to him more. "God, y/n, do you even know?" He kisses down your neck. "You're so sexy. Wanna make you feel good." He's rolling over, bringing you with him so you're straddling him.

You're not used to going this fast, but boy, do you like it, and you grind down on him, feeling yourself getting wet, and swollen. "Wanna make you feel good, too, Brendon." Feeling him grab your hips, pressing you down on him, letting go to rub them gently, and you're moaning into each others mouths, breathing heavy. If anything, he's louder than you--guys are usually quiet, you thought.

"C-can you, you know... like this?" he says, getting shy.

Him being so sweet about it helps you get over your own apprehension. "Can I come like this? Yeah. When I'm on top, it's a good bet." You can feel his dick jerk, through your layers, at your words, and you grin. You switch between back and forth and circular motions. "Wanna see me come like this, Bren? Wanna see you come, too." The words are out before you can stop them, shocking you. You've only talked dirty like this in your thoughts and dreams, not in real life, especially not the first time you're fucking around with someone. Sometimes, you think it, but can't bring yourself to say it, worried guys would think you're a slut, which could be bad--it was a careful tightrope to walk between prude and slut, and falling on either side had repurcussions, especially from boys.

Brendon was just grinning up at you, though, biting his lip, seeming even more turned on, running his hand between your clothed breasts down your stomach as his eyes followed, briefly touching your mound, eyes flicking back up to gaze up at you. He managed to look both horny and adoring, especially his eyes, and you knew he wasn't judging you, and just that sent more arousal through you.

You leaned over, kissing him again, feeling close in more than one way--just a bit longer. You swivelled more, getting more pressure on the top, your clit, breathing and gasping now against his mouth between kisses, his hands rubbing over your thighs, his breath heavy like yours, moaning your name.

"Y/n, I'm so close, should I try not to?"

Guys usually didn't ask--just did it as they pleased, and usually conked out after, if not actually getting sleepy, just losing interest, and being, well, done while you wanted a few orgasms like you used to have when you masturbated, or had in your dreams. You slowed. "Can you stay with me, Bren? Like if you did, would you still still wanna help me?"

He nodded fervently. "Yeah. You feel--either you gotta stop or I'm gonna..." You purposely didn't, and he seized up, moaning and gasping and swearing as he thrust up a couple times, turning you on even more.

"God, Bren, yeah, can I still, just seconds..." He nods, and you go fast, rocking on him, aware of the wetness in his shorts, kind of wanting to touch it, thinking crazily of removing the layers between you and rubbing yourself on him, feeling each other's, and you're coming. You stiffen as you press down him in rather hard thrusts, your core heating up until it bursts, throbbing through you, feeling contractions even in your uterus--you can feel the strong ones there too.

"Fuck, Bren, yeah. Yeah." You kiss along his face and neck, gathering him in your arms, as you just make circles on him gently with your hands on his back and pelvis still on his.

You move to get off him, but he grabs your hand. "You can keep going, if you want."

"I'm not hurting you?" He shakes his head, stroking his other hand lazily over your back to your ass, eyes heavy but the way he's looking at you... wanting, so you move on him again, more carefully, weight more on his pubic bone than his dick and balls. This next one should be quicker and easier, so you go for it, both of you smiling wide at each other. You hold yourself up a bit with your arms, running your hand through his hair, gently scratching his scalp, and he gasps into your mouth at that, so you keep it up, getting wetter again as the arousal builds. You don't want to jinx anything, so you don't play around, working at coming again, burying your face in his neck, kissing his collarbone, nipping lightly at him, and his breath is getting heavy again, mouth letting out little moans, which you find yourself following. You kiss that delicious mouth of his just as you feel it swelling over you, face going back into his neck, smelling him, gasping and "oh god"ing as you explode again, semi-aware your vagina is contracting as your vulva swells a bit more before melting against him, trying to catch your breath.

"I want to--can I?" he gasps, sliding his hand up your thigh, just until it's under your shorts, after your breathing calms. His fingertips just brush the hem of your panties. "Wanna touch you, so bad."