Brendon Urie: Imagines and ficlets

All I Want for Christmas is You 3/?

this is gonna be at least 5 parts. weeee!! what is with me n backstrory, albeit smutty backstory that gets into b's "sexual temperament"

You'll never get too much of him. You want to fuck for hours, love knowing he does too. The fact you get two, three, even four or more hour sessions with him as you glide over your clit and he kisses you, both moaning and panting, stroking your hair, calling you his bestest girl, the sexiest, one hand caressing over your thigh, hip, sucking your neck, hand slipping under you to stroke the small of your back, sets you off for the forth time that night. You stopped feeling guilty about your need with him a while ago. One, no two, of the most sensuous, sexual, needy creatures on the planet. The most uninhibited, open either of you has ever been with someone, and that was saying a lot for both of you. You both had had great lovers of both sexes, great sex. But this was...fuck, it was something wondrous, often new, needing skin, mouths, genitals, drenched in want, need, love. Having him let you realize the rest of those subtle and not so subtle ways you were inhibited with men, that sex with a man could be as varied, open, boundless, ungoverned yet safe, as anything and everything as sex with women...

"Fuck, B...god...maybe I should put those panties on to keep things slowed down for a bit..." Your clit is oversensitive, hurting too much, but give you ten, even five minutes...

"Need a break, huh? I've got a matching pair for ya. Just tell me to take em off, or do it yourself when you want my hands there too. I'll put mine on too..." Goddamn, his ass, his cock and sac, hips, v-lines, in those panties... He slides another red pair up your legs and you lift, loving that he cops a careful feel of your mound and outer lips down to your ass first, pats your ass when they're on.

"Bet you can feel how wet I am through them already, B..." You brush your hand over them, then guide his. You smile up at him, sitting up, stroking over his hips, thighs bracketing his legs, delighting in that touch too, wriggling up and down them. "Peekabo," you sing, pulling his panties down, shifting his dick so the tip pops out, giving a few extra strokes, feeling his pulse, loving how warm he feels. He gazes back, eyes sparking, grin filling those cheeks out even more. "Look at that...wanna smooch." So you do, soft, then stroke your lips over it, tongue following over that hard but smooshy tip. Fuck, you'll suck him a little, you think. His hands stroke through your hair and you can't help grinding lightly against the couch, getting him wet with your sucking mouth, tongue, until he spurts precum, and you lick it up, take the second spurt. Rub your hand over his length and scrotum through the panties.

A gorgeous, pettable, smoochable, suckable... cock and balls on a lovely, gorgeous, pettable, and everything else boy. Because they're his and actually pretty, cute, absolutely silken—he totally uses the moisturizer there too, the minx—especially his dick. You pull his panties down more. God, such a good fit places: hand, mouth, between your labia and over your clit, tip to clit, the small of your back, between your asscheeks, thighs, inside your vagina. Him rocking in or you engulfing him, the rare times you crave and want him like that, truly ready for it, beg for it there too. Beyond wet and swollen, feeling sloppy, almost fucked out after coming and coming, after his fingers, even a toy. So wet it's all over his balls, pubes, thighs, pelvis, wherever else you rub on, whether or not you cover him that way too. Him being smaller than average...fucking perfect.

"Fuck...this is your night, darlin..."

"Yes, it is," you look up, kiss his belly, rub his back, ass, thighs, making squish noises. "My night with my good boy...my sweetest boy..." Every time with him was yours.

You still came usually several times even on "his" nights, still had him moaning around a mouthful of pussy, still had him eager for your hot juicy pussy all over him, touching, rubbing, kissing you how you liked it. His nights were sometimes him being needier, pleading, but docile—beyond what he usually was, like he needed...lots and lots of caretaking, guidance and praise. At times even willing for, wanting you to hurt and dominate him, but you'd never be cruel to your baby, always tried to ease him out of that with praise, gentle touch, kisses, telling him that you would never humiliate or degrade your sweet soft boy. Even if you spanked him, pulled his hair, slapped his cock, bit a little hard, got him on his knees, rode his face, told him not to come, rubbed on any part of him you pleased, gave commands but gently, letting him know he didn't have to...it would only be because he liked it, wanted it because it felt good, it was another way of loving him, of making him feel good... "only if it feels good, Brendon, only if you know you're a good, lovely boy..."

Other times, he'd let the assertiveness, confidence that you encouraged in him, take hold, or at least tried to feel it, both to differing degrees. Both concerned about it, wanting it to be real, not faked, but never wanting him to even seem dominant or any other negative aspect of masculinity. You were a lot more ok with getting into his enjoyment of...pain...sharp sensations, slaps, heat and cold, being bossed around then, when he was assertive back. Asked for it because he wanted it, liked it, knew he was worthy of things he enjoyed. The only other consistent differences were him being more active: moving a bit more into your mouth, hand, between your breasts, firmer over your pussy, guiding you with word and hands, asking often for a finger or two inside, desperate and assertive yet careful, chasing his pleasure.

He was usually so you-oriented, your pleasure and orgasms so arousing to him, him getting off was important and needed too, but quite down on the list, and these times it still wasn't first, but it was second. Often less teasing, playing with him before trying to get him off, unless he wanted edging. More of you seriously trying to make him come, seeing if you could encourage him into a second, a third, especially when mostly or only prostate stimulation. Keeping up with pleasuring him when he could barely move, lax but trembling, full of pleasure, moaning and whimpering, as long as you were on the right side of too much. Still playing with his thighs, hips, nipples, belly, lips, butt, when touching his penis or inside got to be too much.

It was usually both your sessions by design and how they developed. Switching back and forth. Lots of balance without switching. Just being yourselves. He definitely leaned towards what people would call submissive, even what you thought was such, sometimes too much, both glad he could share that with you and worried for him about it, how people could take advantage. Knowing that was why he held back with men especially. He would often be able to slip back into his usual easy going, funny, eager to please puppy mode after he came the first time on his nights, or you were super smooshy with him. Your gentleness alone helped build him back up those "subby" times, or made him switch over those "toppy" ones. He could only be rather assertive, firm, if you were at least as much as he, and often wouldn't or couldn't even then. His "topiness" was fundamentally sideways.

You were glad of it, more and more, once you became lovers, exploring together, letting yourselves go. There were other guys like him, but they were all too rare, and the degree he was the way he was...it was a first for you. He had avoided, rejected, or gotten rid of what generally lurked within men to varying degrees due to his temperament, his bond with his mom, various ways he was gender nonconforming, the decisions he made in his life about how to treat people, him realizing he could compartmentalize people and how they are treated, being with you...

There were also lots of times when you rolled around, or lazed about, snuggling, making out, rubbing on each other, caressing, licking, kissing, anything and everything that sweetly pleasured, like gentle waves under a warm sun, neither of you getting around to coming. And other times just you once to three times (three times was a low number for you with your boy given the hours you tended to spend), rarely only him coming once, or both of you having those limited orgasms. Sometimes coming, sometimes not when your bits got wet, achy and swollen with need.

That's how you're petting him, kissing him, belly to dick to thighs, one hand often on his ass, between his cheeks, balls too, panties mid-thigh. Remembering and feeling that melty thick arousal, sometimes rubbing on the couch, as he's half hard. It's been three days since you've been together, and he pants between groans that he hasn't come since as you lick the skin beyond his pubic hair.