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"You liked it when you couldn't breathe," Spencer says.
He's been playing the memory of fucking Brendon on the bed over and over in his mind, savoring every last detail, and this is the conclusion he's come to. Well, one of the conclusions — also that it was fucking hot and that they should do it again soon.
Brendon stops making his sandwich. "Uh, yes," he says, but he doesn't look at Spencer, and his face is getting a little red.
"Oh my god, you're embarrassed," Spencer says, delighted that for once, he isn't the one feeling like it's hard to talk about something.
"Shut up, I'm not," Brendon says, placing the pre-cut cheese slices just so and then putting the two halves together. He inspects the sandwich critically. "Why don't we have any lettuce left, Spence? It doesn't look right without it."
"You never used it, and then you threw it away because it got brown," Spencer reminds him. "And you are so embarrassed. You don't have to be - we can do that!"
"What, no!" Brendon turns around with his sandwich. "That's like... It's dangerous, okay? And we haven't even picked out a safeword yet."
"Oh," Spencer says. He thinks. "But, you like it. You should have stuff you like." Then something occurs to him. "Wait, did you... My stun gun. Did you like that? Did you secretly get off on it?"
"Ugh." Brendon slams the plate down on the table and sits down. "If you're going to start being stupid, can you get it out of your system fast?"
"What?" Spencer protests. "That stun gun is totally hard core. Not like anything was going to happen, but I'm pretty sure it can cause dismemberment and death and stuff. Well, death, maybe. And you wanted to do it three times!"
"No, I didn't get off on it, okay?" Brendon looks seriously annoyed, but then his expression softens a little. "Possibly I could have, a little, in the right situation. But I didn't right then."
"So, you could get off on not breathing," Spencer says. "I can help you. You liked it fine last night." It's a great idea, and it's not like Spencer is planning to crush Brendon's windpipe or anything.
Brendon looks uneasy. "I haven't... done that with another person. It would have to be really, really safe."
Spencer already has a plan. A sexy plan. "Look, nothing around your neck, and nothing involving water. Just, I can use my hand to cover your mouth and nose. And you can tap out at any time. We'll have a signal. It'll be like a safeword."
Brendon takes a bite of his sandwich and chews.
"Or," Spencer says, "we could not do it at all. I just, you liked it. You get off on it."
"Shut up, I'm thinking," Brendon says. He eats his sandwich, and he doesn't look at Spencer. He taps his fingers against the table, alternating them as if he is playing something on the piano.
Spencer has a whole long list of things he's compiling in his head with things he wants to try with Brendon. But if Brendon doesn't want to do this with him, he should just stop thinking about that stuff, right? Spencer shifts on the chair, but waits for Brendon to finish.
"Okay," Brendon says. "I want to try it. With your hand."
"Awesome," Spencer says. He's already excited. He's pretty sure it will be fantastic, holding Brendon's face, controlling when he gets to breathe. "We could, we can sit on the floor, okay? Over here." He stands up and walks over to the row of cabinets, across from where the dogs' bowls are.
Brendon pushes his chair back and stands up. "Now?" he asks, but it's not hesitant, only surprised. "Tell me what you're going to do first."
Spencer has a really clear idea of it. It'll be super hot. "I sit here, and you sit in front of me." He indicates the floor where he's standing. "So I can lean against the cabinet and you against me. And then you jerk off, and I hold you and stop you from breathing. I won't do it for too long, and if you want me to stop, you can squeeze my leg, with your hand, and I'll stop."
"That'll work, yeah," Brendon says, coming closer. "So you want me to jerk off for you?" He's smiling.
Spencer grins. "I want to see you, yeah," he says. "I want to know how you like it. And I want to stop you from breathing while you do it."
Brendon's eyes seem darker as he steps right up to Spencer, leaning in until they're chest to chest. "I'm doing this with you because I trust you," he says, looking into Spencer's eyes. "Because I've known you for years. With anyone else, I wouldn't. Not for a long time."
"I know." Spencer feels warm inside. He knows Brendon is trusting him with a lot. He tugs on Brendon's hand, starting to sit down, and Brendon follows him, sitting in the vee of Spencer's legs. Spencer wraps his arms around Brendon's chest for a moment and buries his face in Brendon's neck, just breathing.
Brendon shifts, pressing closer to Spencer, and he turns his head for a kiss. Spencer is happy to give it to him, spending several moments licking into Brendon's mouth and kissing his lips until Brendon is breathing faster and straining against Spencer's hold on him to turn around.
Spencer puts a hand on top of Brendon's crotch, and Brendon stops trying to turn, exhaling on a moan against Spencer's mouth instead. Brendon is already pretty hard, and Spencer traces the shape of him through his jeans, teasing.
"You're gonna come for me," he says against Brendon's mouth. "But not yet."
He lets Brendon go and guides his hands to the button and zipper, and Brendon unfastens his pants and wriggles out of them, together with his underwear.
"Cold!" Brendon complains, sitting his bare ass gingerly on the kitchen floor tiles.
Spencer considers, but there's no real point in making Brendon sit on the cold floor when that has no relation to what he wants him to focus on. He hauls Brendon's jeans back with the help of his foot from where Brendon kicked them off.
"Sit on these," he says.
Brendon lifts his hips, his cock bobbing with the motion, and Spencer slides the jeans underneath. Brendon's t-shirt is old, short, and barely covers his bellybutton. He looks stupidly hot.
"Thanks," Brendon says.
That's enough words exchanged, Spencer feels. He guides Brendon's hand down to Brendon's cock.
"Do it now," he says. "Do it the way you like it."
Brendon wraps his fingers around his cock, not really touching the head. He uses small movements, just rocking his hand back and forth. Spencer watches as he becomes harder, holding Brendon pressed close against himself with one arm. He traces Brendon's face with the fingers of his other hand, returning to his half open mouth again and again, brushing over his lips with his thumb and with his fingers.
"Can I...?" Brendon asks in a hushed voice.
"Hm?" Spencer asks.
"My hand is dry," Brendon says, but he doesn't stop moving his hand on his cock.
Spencer wonders if Brendon hasn't stopped because Spencer didn't tell him to. That's a hot idea, Brendon doing only what Spencer tells him to do.
"Lick your palm," Spencer says.
Brendon does, and Spencer keeps his own hand on Brendon's face while he does it, feeling the way Brendon's jaw hinges, and the movements of his chin, tipping Brendon's head back slightly with every pass of his tongue.
Brendon doesn't stop licking until Spencer stops him, pulling his hand back down to Brendon's cock.
Spencer is tempted to jerk Brendon off himself. He could tell Brendon to keep his hands by his sides and not move, and Spencer could tease him, keep him from coming.
But that's not what they're doing this time. Brendon jerks himself, letting his hand move over the head of his cock now that it's wet, and Spencer puts his hand over Brendon's mouth. He doesn't seal over it yet, feeling Brendon's breathing tickle his palm.
He takes Brendon's hand, the one that isn't busy on his cock, and places it on his own thigh. "Remember. If you need to stop, squeeze my thigh," he says.
Brendon nods.
Spencer seals his palm over Brendon's mouth and pinches his thumb and first finger over his nostrils, cutting off his breathing. He presses Brendon's head back until he's leaning on Spencer's shoulder.
Brendon's eyes are open, and Spencer has a hard time deciding where to look - into Brendon's eyes or at Brendon's hand, speeding up on his cock. There's something hypnotic about Brendon's gaze, though, so dark and open.
Spencer holds his hand still until Brendon starts to squirm. Then he lets go, and Brendon gasps, panting a few times. Brendon never looks away, and Spencer cuts his air off again, feeling the tension in Brendon's body build. Color rises in his face, and the muscles around his ribcage start to spasm, as his lungs try and fail to draw air.
Spencer stares into Brendon's wide eyes. He finds himself breathing fast, almost panting, as the urgency in Brendon's body increases. The way Brendon squirms makes friction between their bodies, and while Spencer doesn't think he'll come in his pants from this, it feels very very good.
Brendon gasps again as Spencer lets him have a few breaths, this time with a whimpering noise. Spencer can feel Brendon's hand moving, fast and hard on his cock, but he can't look away from Brendon's face. He's red, and he's sweating, and his eyes are tearing up a little.
Spencer puts his hand back where it belongs, taking Brendon's air away. He leans closer, resting his forehead against Brendon's for a moment.He doesn't think it will take much longer.
"No more air until you come," he tells Brendon.
Brendon's grow even wider, and he blinks a few times, fast. Brendon's whole body is tense, so tense, and Spencer keeps his arm tight around Brendon's chest, feeling the way his entire body gradually becomes involved in the fight for air.
He can feel the silent sounds trying to escape, and the increasing rhythmic pressure of Brendon trying to breathe against his palm, but Brendon's hand on his thigh lies flat, his fingers spread wide and stiff.
For a few moments the contrast of Brendon's struggle for air and his struggle to come becomes no contrast at all. They're one and the same, and something that looks a little like fear, but mostly like Brendon's gaze travelling further than Spencer's face, miles further in just a few instants, enters Brendon's eyes. Spencer stares, riveted.
Then Brendon's hips jerk violently, and he's coming.
Spencer blinks, and then he releases Brendon's face.
Brendon's entire body curls in on itself, violent, deep gasps heaving his back as he falls to one side. Spencer reflexively bends his knee and Brendon doesn't fall all the way onto the floor, leaning heavily over Spencer's thigh instead. His hand is still on his cock, slowing down now, as he breathes and breathes.
Spencer is still turned on, but his head feels curiously empty. He puts both his arms around Brendon and strokes his back, his arms, but he's not thinking about anything.
"Fuck," Brendon says eventually, his breathing calming down. He coughs a few times. "That was. I feel all floaty."
"Mm," Spencer says, because there's a space there, and he should be saying something.
Brendon sits up, turning in Spencer's arms. He still looks absolutely wrecked — sweaty and red, and there's something almost drugged about his eyes.
He looks fine though.
He's fine.
A rush of but what if he'd kept going, what if Brendon was too weak to stop him, what if he'd held on until Brendon stopped trying to breathe hits Spencer with enough force that he makes an actual noise — something breathless and high that is hard to recognize as something that would come out of his own mouth.
"Spencer," Brendon says. "Spencer, are you okay?"
Brendon's voice is a little hoarse, because it got that way when he was trying to breathe but couldn't, because Spencer had watched him try but not let him, because Spencer is a sick, sick freak who likes to almost kill his friends with his own hands.
Spencer shakes his head. No, he's not okay. He's not an okay person at all.
There was that space of a second, when Brendon was coming and Spencer had known this was when he let go, when he'd wanted to keep going. To keep Brendon in that beautiful fight that his body had been involved in, to watch him longer, to feel him jerk and fight and sweat in Spencer's arms.
Except things don't work that way, and Spencer knows that. If Spencer had kept Brendon like that, and if Brendon hadn't been able to fight him off, Brendon would eventually have died. Spencer knows that.
And he has no idea what to do with it.
"Spencer," Brendon says, and touches Spencer's face.
Spencer looks at him, and he feels himself flush, suddenly and painfully.
"I could have killed you. I almost did. What if I'd killed you?" Spencer almost can't recognize his own voice, it sounds so strange.
Brendon hugs him. "Shh," Brendon says. "It's okay, no one killed anyone. You wouldn't kill me. You wouldn't kill anyone."
He'd thought he'd known what this was, when Brendon told him that he trusted him. Brendon should never have trusted him at all.
"I could have," he says. "I could have killed you. You don't know that."
"I know you, Spencer," Brendon says. He's petting Spencer's hair, and Spencer doesn't know if he should lean into Brendon's touch or away. "Trust me, I know you. Whatever you're thinking, it's okay. I know you. You wouldn't kill anyone, and you didn't hurt me."
"I wouldn't?" Spencer asks, feeling pathetic. He would like to believe Brendon, but he doesn't know if he should. "You trusted me," he says, and then he can't say anything more, because he's suddenly crying.
"Shh, shh," Brendon says, hugging Spencer tighter, even though Spencer is making a complete mess of himself, and nothing is how it should be, and he's crying into Brendon's shoulder with huge, hitching sobs.
"I trust you, Spencer," Brendon says. "I'll always, always trust you. And you know what? You have to trust me too. Because I know you, and I know I'm right, trusting you. So you don't have to worry. You're okay, and I'm okay. I promise you."
"Yeah?" Spencer manages. He still has a whole mess of weird feelings inside, but Brendon has known him for years, has seen as much of him as Ryan did, and if anyone does know him, it's Brendon.
"I promise you," Brendon repeats, his voice strong and sure.
"Okay," Spencer says into Brendon's shoulder. His breathing stutters in that annoying, crying way, but he doesn't feel like absolutely everything is wrong anymore, maybe.
"If you want," Brendon says, "we can talk more about this later." He leans back, and Spencer feels an inexplicable urge to hide his face. Brendon makes sure to look him in the eye, though. He doesn't look drugged at all anymore — just affectionate and disheveled.
"However," Brendon continues. "Right now, I think we should probably clean this up. Because if we don't, the dogs are totally going to eat my come from the floor when they come back inside."
"Oh my god," Spencer says, surprising himself with a burst of disgusted laughter.
Brendon is right. There's smeared come on the floor, and some of it is on Brendon's legs, too. Spencer wipes his face with his shirt.
"Seriously," he says, because he thinks he needs to hear it one more time, even though he can see it. "You're okay, right?"
Brendon grins. "So okay, A-okay, even," he replies.
"Okay," Spencer says and gets up off the floor.