Need You Wild 9/12
Link to full header and warnings - Link to part 8
Brendon makes spaghetti for dinner and then convinces Spencer that the perfect thing to do when everyone is too full to move is to have an epic Guitar Hero battle. Spencer means to say no, he really does, but Brendon hasn't stopped bragging about beating him the last time and it's become a matter of honor. Honor and ego. Things don't exactly go better this time, though, and after Brendon still kicks his ass after three rematches, Spencer gives up and carries Brendon up the stairs slung over his shoulder.
"Caveman is kind of a hot look for you," Brendon says, laughing as Spencer tosses him onto the bed. Spencer tugs his pants off and tosses his shirt across the room, groaning in relief when he finally collapses on the bed. He yanks halfheartedly at Brendon's shirt until Brendon rolls his eyes and takes it off himself, shimmying out of his pants in the process. Spencer pulls Brendon in, nosing at the back of his neck as he spoons up behind Brendon and wraps a protective arm around his waist. Brendon snuffles, already half-asleep, and presses back into Spencer with a sleepy, pleased noise.
"Night," Brendon yawns, hugging Spencer's arm closer to his chest and squirming around until he's comfortable.
Spencer tries to will his brain to just be quiet so he can sleep, but he can't stop thinking about last night. He thinks about coming into the room as a wolf and Brendon just petting him and letting him sleep at the end of the bed. He thinks about coming back to Brendon, finding his way to his mate from the middle of a forest, knowing Brendon's scent even as a wolf. It's weird, but Spencer can still feel that overwhelming rush of protection for Brendon, of wanting to stay by him at all times and never, ever let anything hurt him.
Spencer is so, so in over his fucking head.
"If you think any louder you're going to wake up Ryan and Jon," Brendon whispers, turning a little in Spencer's arms, and Spencer kisses Brendon's temple without thinking about it.
"They've been woken up by worse from us in the past few weeks."
Brendon snorts. "Okay, a fair point, but not the one I was getting at. What's wrong?"
Spencer isn't exactly sure how to say, "Oh, you know, you're just my mate for life, no big," so he settles for the next best thing, which is apparently blurting out, "I think I might be the abusive boyfriend Ryan's Cosmo warns about."
Brendon doesn't snort this time, but the look he gives Spencer is a little incredulous. "What now?"
"I'm clingy," Spencer says. "And I'm jealous, and--"
"You did try to keep me from leaving the house in my blazer when we went hiking that time," Brendon says gravely.
"Oh shut up, I'm serious," Spencer groans, letting his head fall back onto the pillows.
"Spencer," Brendon says, digging his chin into Spencer's chest until Spencer looks down at him. "You're being an idiot. There's an entirely different set of circumstances here. You're not trying to keep me from going to the club with my bffs, you're a werewolf."
"A clingy, controlling werewolf," Spencer grumbles.
"A bratty werewolf, at the moment," Brendon says, rolling his eyes. "Where did this even come from?"
"When I changed," Spencer says, "I came back here, to you, and that's not-- It means stuff," he finishes, mumbling.
"Well that cleared everything right up," Brendon says.
"It's a mate thing, okay?" Spencer says all in a rush. "It means you're, like, mine. My mate. Which means I don't actually have, like... another mate?"
"You are really bad at this," Brendon says.
"Werewolves mate for life," Spencer groans out. "I know, I mean, I thought, but then I actually did start googling stuff, and it explained a lot, so like, you know. I'm sorry. For not... asking you."
"Spencer," Brendon says, sitting up on the bed with a heavy sigh until he's staring down at Spencer. "You're bad at this because I already know all this, okay? I realize this is more than just dating, and seriously. I'm okay with it. It can get kind of weird sometimes, but I'm not going anywhere and I sure as fuck don't want you to."
"Oh," Spencer says, kind of dumbfounded.
"You're so stupid," Brendon says with a laugh, bending down to kiss Spencer lightly. Spencer tugs at him until Brendon falls over on top of him with a grunt, then leans up to kiss him properly. Brendon relaxes on top of him, tucking his face into Spencer's shoulder once Spencer pulls away from his mouth. "Go to sleep, moron," Brendon says, his lips brushing Spencer's skin lightly as he talks.
Spencer still feels weird and on edge, like things can't just be this easy, but Brendon's snuggled in against his chest, his breath tickling at Spencer's throat, and Spencer's so tired. His bones ache and his head hurts and Brendon's so warm, so Spencer breathes him in deep and closes his eyes.
They're not exactly making a lot of progress on the album, despite spending a couple of hours a day in the studio over the next two weeks. Ryan keeps pushing and pushing, wanting the lyrics to be more complex, the melodies more intricate, and it's starting to grate on everyone's nerves. Brendon's been locked in the practice space all day, desperately trying to get Ryan's lyrics to fit to the music he's been writing. After about six hours Spencer gets tired of catching faint whiffs of frustration, so he hauls himself up from the sofa, heading to the practice space. He hates how tense Brendon gets when things aren't working out, the way it makes him stiff and upset, and he doesn't bother knocking, just pushes the door open and walks over to Brendon.
Brendon doesn't say anything when Spencer pulls the headphones off of Brendon's ears, pressing himself against Brendon's back and steadying Brendon with his hands on his hips. Brendon slumps back against Spencer and drops his head forward. Spencer can't resist pressing his nose the nape of Brendon's neck and breathing in, even if Brendon mostly smells frustrated and upset.
"Spence, hey--" Brendon starts, his voice tired and rough from singing, but Spencer cuts him off by leaning down and kissing at the side of Brendon's neck, licking softly over the sweat that's warm on his skin. Brendon goes still, and Spencer smiles into Brendon's hair as Brendon relaxes even more, going almost limp in Spencer's arms with a sigh. "It's not working," Brendon says in a quiet voice, and Spencer rubs one hand over Brendon's hip, under his t-shirt. "Ryan wants to-- It's just not working. I can't sing this."
"Come on," Spencer says as he pushes Brendon over to the piano bench, sitting down and reaching for Brendon's belt. Spencer can smell Brendon start to get turned on as he pulls Brendon's pants down over his thighs, his cock starting to swell as Spencer pulls his briefs down.
Brendon bites his lip, says, "Spence, this is-- the door's not locked, this is stupid, let's--"
Spencer shakes his head, running his hands up underneath Brendon's t-shirt, feeling the way his muscles twitch beneath his warm skin. "Just let me, okay? Forget about everything else," Spencer says, leaning forward and nuzzling his nose against Brendon's stomach. Brendon's still giving Spencer a wary look when he pulls back and strips Brendon's t-shirt off, but he lets Spencer pull him down into his lap, straddling Spencer's thighs so he's kneeling on the piano bench.
Spencer's hands brush over Brendon's skin, warm and soft, and Brendon hooks his arms around Spencer's neck and leans down to kiss him, hard, like he's trying to distract himself. The air in the room gets thicker and heavier with Brendon's scent, and Spencer likes that a lot more than frustration and anger. Spencer leans up to meet Brendon's desperate kisses, holding Brendon's hips tightly as he breaks away to kiss down Brendon's jaw, sucking at the skin until it's red. Brendon tilts his head back, and fuck, that is really unfair. Brendon's neck already has fading bruises on it from a few days ago, and Spencer wants to resist, but he can't, not when Brendon groans as Spencer's lips trail over his throat.
Spencer sucks over one of the tender spots and lets his teeth catch at the skin just for the way Brendon's hips buck forward and he gasps. "You know you're going to have to stop this shit when we're on tour," Brendon says, his voice breathy. "Unless we make up a really elaborate lie about some rare skin disease."
"We're not on tour," Spencer says as he licks at the sweat gathering in the hollow of Brendon's throat. "Besides, there are other places I can give you hickeys," Spencer says, squeezing at Brendon's hips before lifting him to his feet. Spencer drops to his knees and kisses down Brendon's stomach, sucking at his hips and the sensitive skin of his lower belly.
"Point taken," Brendon says, burying his hands in Spencer's hair. Spencer grins up at him before leaning back and sucking at Brendon's thighs, nuzzling into the crease of his leg.
"You smell so good," Spencer says, wrapping his hands around the back of Brendon's thighs and pressing him closer as he buries his nose in the hair above Brendon's cock. Spencer's cock is straining against his boxers, but he doesn't want to move his hands to do anything about it, too caught up in the way he can feel Brendon's thighs tremble when Spencer sucks hard at the skin right above the base of Brendon's cock. He can smell Brendon getting desperate, turned on and eager, and he finally smells right again, not stressed out and worried and sad. Spencer lets out a rumbling, happy noise as he pulls back to take Brendon's cock into his mouth, sucking hard at the head where he can just taste the first traces of pre-come. Brendon gasps when Spencer groans around his cock, and he tightens his hands in Spencer's hair, his fingers flexing.
Spencer sucks Brendon in deep and pulls at his thighs, trying to get Brendon closer, take him deeper. Brendon's cock isn't huge, but it's thick, and Spencer loves the way it feels on his tongue, the way he has to stretch his lips wide around it. He can feel how tense Brendon's muscles are from where he's holding himself still, and Spencer tries to frown automatically before remembering that his mouth is kind of full of Brendon's cock at the moment. He pulls back, staring up at Brendon and forgetting what he wanted to say for a moment at the sight of him, his chest flushed and his lips red and wet. Brendon's hips sway slightly toward Spencer's mouth again, and oh, right.
"You should fuck my face," Spencer says, leaning in to run his nose over Brendon's cock.
"Fuck," Brendon gasps, and Spencer's not sure if it's because of what he said or the way he's nosing over Brendon's cock, but he doesn't particularly care. He just takes Brendon back into his mouth and slides his hands up to grab at Brendon's ass, pulling him closer. Brendon takes the hint, moving his hips forward in shallow, jerky thrusts at first before Spencer grumbles unhappily around Brendon's cock and lets his teeth catch softly just under the head of Brendon's cock. It drives Brendon crazy if he does it just right - something Spencer has learned from weeks of practice. Brendon moans out and thrusts forward, hard, his cock dragging across of the roof of Spencer's mouth. Spencer drops his jaw open and flattens his tongue against the underside of Brendon's cock, letting Brendon thrust in, fast and desperate. Brendon tugs at Spencer's hair, twisting his fingers in, and Spencer drops his head back just a little and groans, low in his throat. Brendon cries out at the feeling and his hips jerk forward, his cock hitting the back of Spencer's throat and making him gag.
Brendon tries to pull back then, but Spencer grabs on tight to his ass and pulls him forward, keeping him there. Spencer's pretty much drooling at this point, spit trailing out of either corner of his mouth, but he doesn't care. He can taste Brendon's cock, smell how close he is, and Spencer pulls back just a little so he can suck around Brendon, hard, rubbing his tongue along the underside of Brendon's cock. Brendon groans and his hips jerk desperately. It barely even shifts his cock in Spencer's mouth, but it must be enough, because Brendon is crying out, his come hitting the back of Spencer's throat. Spencer swallows and keeps sucking, pulling back so he can lick at Brendon's slit until he's sure there's nothing else to taste. Brendon pulls sharply on Spencer's hair when it gets to be too much, and Spencer lets go of Brendon's ass, letting him pull his cock out of Spencer's mouth with a wet noise.
Brendon's panting, still a little shaky, and he lets go of Spencer's hair slowly, running his fingers through it, petting at Spencer's scalp. Spencer's face is a mess, and he can feel where even his neck is wet from his own spit, but he doesn't care. He just closes his eyes and arches back into Brendon's hands, fumbling with his sweatpants until he gets them pushed down enough to free his cock.
"Spence," Brendon says, his voice hoarse like he's the one who just got done sucking cock. "No, let me--" but Spencer shakes his head. He's too close.
He leans forward, burying his nose at the base of Brendon's cock and breathing in deep. Brendon's cock is going soft, his skin a little sticky, and Spencer opens his mouth over it, not sucking or even licking, just mouthing wetly as he jerks himself off fast and rough. Brendon whines, low in his throat, and pats clumsily at Spencer's head, his hands starting to shake a little. Brendon's cock twitches slightly under Spencer's mouth, and that's all he needs, he's gone, curling in on himself and coming over his hand.
Spencer wants to keep jerking off, still hard, still so turned on, wants to use his come to finger Brendon open and bend him over the piano while he fucks him, but he can hear Jon moving around in the kitchen, getting out plates, asking Ryan where they are, and he'd rather no one walk in on them. Again.
Spencer stills his hand with a sigh and rests his head against Brendon's hip, rubbing his nose at Brendon's skin. "As much as I hate to say it," Spencer says, his voice coming out raw and rough, "you should probably put on clothes and go eat while I clean up."
"You are kind of a mess," Brendon says, cupping Spencer's cheek softly before stepping back and grabbing for his clothes.
"Worth it," Spencer says with a grin, watching Brendon with intent eyes as he steps back into his underwear.
"Totally worth it," Brendon says vehemently as he steps into his pants. Spencer wipes his hand off on his own sweatpants with a grimace before standing up, and Brendon darts in suddenly, kissing Spencer deep and hard. Spencer gasps a little, his lips still tingling and sore where they were stretched around Brendon's cock, and Brendon licks at the corner of Spencer's mouth where the ache is worst, pulling away with a quick, gentle kiss to Spencer's bottom lip.
"I'm making that up to you tonight," Brendon promises before slipping out the door, and Spencer spends a few seconds going through a list of filthy, awesome scenarios in his mind before shaking his head and pulling his pants the rest of the way up.
It takes another few afternoons of fucking around in the studio, trying to make songs work when they don't want to work, for all of them to start realizing just how bad things are going.
"Put the fucking accordion down and actually start singing some of the fucking lyrics," Ryan snaps suddenly at Brendon, and the room goes painfully quiet.
Tensions have been high for a few weeks now. Ryan's ideas seem to keep coming back to the same themes, over and over, and Brendon just can't sing some of the lyrics and phrases that Ryan comes up with. Jon keeps arguing that they need to stop messing around trying to make an album that sounds like an orchestrated soundtrack, and Spencer - well, Spencer's pretty fucking fed up with all of them. It's bad enough living with three guys and having heightened senses, but when everyone smells frustrated and upset day after day, it starts to take a toll on Spencer's wolf brain.
"No," Spencer says, when Brendon just stares open-mouthed at Ryan for a few seconds. "No, fuck that. This is bullshit, Ryan, and you know that. These songs aren't working."
"Well he's not helping by--"
"Ryan, don't start with--"
"Hey," Jon says, his voice loud and clear, a warning. Spencer doesn't know if it's an age thing or a beard thing, or a combination of both, but when Jon uses that voice they all get quiet, every time. "No one's helping, because Spence is right. These songs aren't working, and the music isn't working, and fighting about it isn't going to make it work."
"Well I don't know what else you want me to fucking do," Ryan says, sounding tired in a way that Spencer recognizes is more than just tired, and more than just not getting his way. He drops his guitar and leaves the room without looking back. Spencer glances over to Jon, but Jon stays where he is with his guitar instead of following Ryan like he usually would.
"Let him be alone. I think being holed up like this is starting to get to him," Jon says, and Brendon echoes his agreement.
Spencer cracks his knuckles and tries not to listen for Ryan's angry breathing, looking back down at the lyrics instead - the nonsense lines about phosphorous skin and operatic skeletons, the melodies scribbled in that Brendon can't nail because they don't follow any set musical pattern. This isn't the album they want to make, and Spencer doesn't know how to make Ryan see that before they run out of time to fix it.
Spencer wakes up to Brendon hovering about an inch and a half from his face. "Whazzit?" he says, grumpily.
"Jon and I are going to get lunch from Rosa's. And you are going to talk to Ryan and figure out what the fuck is up."
"Wait," Spencer says, rubbing his eyes. "What? Why me?"
"Why do you think you?" Brendon asks. "You've known him the longest, you two have a creepy mind meld thing going on, and also Jon and I really, really do not want to do it."
Spencer groans and closes his eyes, letting his head fall back to the pillows heavily. "I better get burritos for this. Like. A dozen burritos, Brendon, I'm serious."
"No. I am not getting you a dozen burritos, Spencer," Brendon says. "But," he continues, straddling Spencer and dropping a kiss to his nose, "if you actually figure out what the hell is going on with him, I'll get you ten."
Spencer only has to think about that one for a second. Rosa's burritos are really good. "Ugh," he says, swatting at Brendon's hip when Brendon stands up. "Extra cheese, Brendon."
"Goodbye, Spencer," Brendon says as he heads for the door. "Good luck!"
"Extra cheese, I mean it!" Spencer yells after him.
Spencer gets downstairs to find Ryan sprawled out on the couch, flipping through the TV channel menu without stopping long enough to actually look at any of the shows. It's one of Ryan's favorite ways to sulk.
"So they ditched us for Mexican food," Spencer says, leaning against the edge of the couch. Ryan doesn't look up, but Spencer can see the way Ryan tenses up a little.
"Jon owes me, like, ten burritos," Ryan mumbles, and Spencer smiles at that. Okay, so maybe they have a tiny bit of a mind meld thing. Whatever. They're amazing burritos.
Spencer sits down at the end of the couch, lifting Ryan's feet so there's room, and he can smell Ryan's frustration, his worry. It makes Spencer's chest ache in a way that has nothing to do with being a werewolf. Ryan's his best friend, and Spencer hates seeing him like this. Jon and Brendon were right.
"So. You want to tell me what the fuck is up?"
Spencer's known Ryan long enough to know he won't talk that easily, so he isn't surprised when Ryan sits up and cracks his knuckles nervously. "No, actually. I would like to get high."
"That seems like a wonderful solution, yes," Spencer says, rolling his eyes.
"If you don't approve, Spencer, feel free to fuck off," Ryan snaps.
Spencer bites back his retort and takes a deep breath. He knows what Ryan's doing, knows that Ryan's upset enough to try to piss everyone off to the point that they don't even care about finding out why. It's never worked on Spencer before, and it's sure as fuck not going to work now, so Spencer pointedly slumps down in his seat a little, splaying his legs until he's more comfortable.
"Fine," Ryan says tightly, getting up and grabbing Jon's stash from behind the speakers. Spencer thinks it's pretty cute that Jon fully believes that he's good at hiding things. Spencer watches as Ryan rolls a joint, his jaw clenched and his shoulders tense, and maybe letting Ryan get high isn't the worst idea in the world. Ryan holds the joint out to Spencer without looking at him, and Spencer takes one hit before passing it back, waving Ryan off the next time he tries to pass it over.
"What was the point of taking one hit?" Ryan asks, staring at the muted TV screen instead of Spencer.
"I caved to peer pressure so my friend would think I was cool," Spencer says, relaxing just a fraction when the corner of Ryan's mouth quirks up.
"I still don't think you're cool," Ryan says about five minutes later. Spencer glances over at him, noting the way Ryan's holding the tip of the joint between his fingernails, hissing when he takes his last drag and ends up burning his thumb and ashing all over his pants. "Son of a fuck," Ryan says. "I always do that."
"You're still better than Brendon," Spencer says. Brendon gets nervous when a joint burns down too far to hold in his fingers, much less his fingernails.
"Well, at least that's one thing I've got on him," Ryan mumbles, flicking the roach into the ashtray on the table and missing by about a foot.
"Is that what this is?" Spencer watches the way Ryan's face gets tight, closed off again.
"No. Fuck, I'm just saying, I'm happy Brendon handled your wolf thing so god damn perfectly."
"Yeah, I can definitely tell how happy you are," Spencer says flatly.
"I am fucking happy," Ryan almost shouts before shaking his head a little and continuing, softer. "At least you have someone who doesn't constantly fuck things up."
"Ryan, for fuck's sake, you don't--"
"I'm the reason you got bit," Ryan says shakily. "And I freaked the fuck out, okay, I know I did and it was a dick move, but I'm trying to make it better," he says, suddenly turning on the sofa and staring at Spencer intently. "I'm trying to make it better with this album, and no one gets it."
"Ryan," Spencer says quietly, trying to keep his voice even. Ryan hates yelling. "You can't make it better with an album," he says, grabbing Ryan's wrist to still his hand where it's twisting into the bottom of his pajama pants. "There isn't anything to make better," Spencer continues, rubbing at the ball of Ryan's thumb. It's a trick he learned years ago, and he is not above employing it when Ryan's freaking the fuck out.
"I got you bit," Ryan says again.
"I got myself bit, actually," Spencer says.
"I wouldn't let you leave--"
"Don't flatter yourself," Spencer says. "I could have taken you, not to mention slung you over my shoulder and made both of us leave if I'd wanted to."
"You could not have," Ryan says, his voice whiny, and its so absurd Spencer very nearly laughs in his face, but catches himself at the last second. "Besides, I still acted like an asshole."
"So what's new?" Spencer asks, dropping Ryan's hand and poking at his ankle where it's drawn up on the couch. "It's fucking weird," Spencer says. "I don't blame you. I wouldn't want to sit there and watch it happen, and I shouldn't have expected you to. It was a bad decision on both of our parts, okay?"
"It looked like it hurt," Ryan says quietly, twisting himself around until he can drop his head onto Spencer's thigh. Spencer's stupidly grateful that Ryan's not staring at him anymore. Even after years, Ryan can still be an unnerving little fucker when he's looking right at you.
"It does," Spencer says, running his fingers through Ryan's hair. It's greasy and limp, but Ryan relaxes a little, so Spencer keeps going. "It's not as scary anymore, though. I know what to expect now."
"I'm sorry," Ryan says, so quietly Spencer wouldn't have heard it before he was a wolf.
"What for?" Spencer says.
"Spencer," Ryan starts, tensing up again.
"It's okay," Spencer says quickly, squeezing at Ryan's shoulder until he stops trying to sit up. "It was a fucked up thing that happened, and it's going to take getting used to," Spencer says, a little surprised at himself. "This has helped. The cabin, being away--"
"Brendon," Ryan adds, his voice even.
"Brendon," Spencer agrees, "you. Jon. Fuck, even Shane. I don't think I would be as okay with this if it wasn't for being here, and I wouldn't be here if it wasn't for you, so get the fuck over it," Spencer says, making sure to keep his voice from wavering.
"I still want to finish the album," Ryan says after a few minutes.
"Ryan--" Spencer starts, but then he hears the car moving up the road toward them, and stops short.
"I'll think about it, okay?" Ryan says. "But I want to do this." Spencer's pretty sure that want should really be a need, but then Jon and Brendon pull up into the driveway, gravel shifting and doors slamming, and Ryan's sitting up on the sofa, rubbing at his eyes when he thinks Spencer's not looking, and Spencer doesn't have time to call him on it. Plus, the burritos smell really fucking good, even all the way out in the car.
Things are better the next few days, but the tension is still there, and they aren't any closer to figuring out what to do about the album. At least, for the most part, no one's at anyone's throat. Of course it could be because they haven't been so much working on the album as spreading out and trying to stay the fuck away from each other, but still. Jon's been spending a lot of time on the roof, and Ryan's taken to sulking in his room a lot, or sitting in the studio and trying to write after everyone else has gone to bed. Spencer personally thinks his coping mechanism is the best, though, because it involves a frequently naked Brendon and lots and lots of sex.
It's been even more intense ever since Spencer changed and came back to Brendon. Now that he knows Brendon is his, that Brendon's his mate, it's like Spencer can't stop. He's mostly over feeling bad about wanting to stay inside Brendon as much as possible, too. It's a little fucked up, but he can't quite disengage his wolf brain long enough to separate mate from boyfriend, so he's mostly found himself looking at Brendon and thinking mine. Or maybe it's more that he doesn't feel quite as guilty about thinking that, who the fuck knows. Being a werewolf is complicated, but it's not like either of them are complaining about how Spencer's taken to fucking Brendon slow and long, coming inside of him and fucking him through it, squeezing at Brendon's cock if he gets too close. Spencer's kept them at it for hours before, until Brendon's smell is everywhere, overwhelming. For Spencer it's become as much of a turn-on as the way Brendon clenches down tightly around Spencer's cock, trying to keep him inside when Spencer goes to pull back and thrust forward again.
Spencer's even gotten better about doubting himself. He doesn't really let himself think about it much anymore, about losing control when they have sex. He just thinks about Brendon, about being inside of him and how Brendon is his, how he's the only one who'll ever have Brendon like this again. It's pretty much all he's thinking about at the moment, anyway, when he pushes Brendon down into the mattress with his weight and just spreads out on top of him, his cock buried deep inside, his come making the slow grind easy. They've been at it for a while. Spencer's come twice, but Brendon's still hard, and he smells even better like this, raw and on edge. The new position forces Brendon to spread his legs to make room for Spencer to stay deep, and the way that arousal and frustration flares when Brendon's cock is trapped between the mattress and his body makes Spencer groan.
"Spencer," Brendon gasps out, his voice mostly muffled where his face is turned into a pillow. "Fuck, fuck, please." Brendon's arching his hips up underneath Spencer, straining even though he has nowhere to go. Spencer just buries his face in the back of Brendon's neck, nose in his hair, his mouth open and sucking at the damp skin at the nape of Brendon's neck. Brendon tastes amazing, just as good as he smells, and Spencer wishes he could stay like this forever. No album, no tension, just Brendon underneath him, open and desperate and Spencer's.
He thrusts hard into Brendon until he finds an angle that makes Brendon whine, makes him grab at the sheets underneath him and try to arch his hips again. Spencer keeps his cock there, just grinding it in, feeling Brendon clench down hard around it. Brendon's close, way too close for Spencer to even think about making him hold back. It's all Spencer can smell, and he considers pulling out, flipping Brendon over so he can taste, but Brendon feels too good, tight and clenching around Spencer's cock. Spencer sucks at Brendon's neck, whispers, "Yes, come on," in a rough voice before he realizes he's doing it.
Brendon makes this noise as he starts to come, whining desperately and shaking from how intense it is, and Spencer can't stop himself. Spencer doesn't even think about stopping himself because Brendon is squeezing hard over Spencer's cock and Brendon is his, and Spencer bites down on Brendon's skin where his neck meets his shoulder, where Spencer can feel Brendon's pulse. He sets his teeth into the skin and just bites until Brendon cries out, a strangled, surprised noise. It's not unlike the noise he usually makes when he's starting to get sore, and Spencer lets go reluctantly so he can sit up and ease his cock out of Brendon slowly, even though Spencer's still completely hard and so close to another orgasm. He leans back down to kiss at Brendon's shoulder, his mouth instinctively drawn to the place where he bit down, and it isn't until Spencer's licking gently over Brendon's shoulder and nosing at his neck that he realizes what he's done.
Spencer pulls back, shocked, staring down with wide eyes at the mark on Brendon's shoulder, angry and red and deep. Spencer's teeth actually broke through the skin a little, and Spencer feels suddenly, almost violently sick. Brendon tries to move to roll over onto his back, and Spencer pulls back and lets out a sad, ugly noise when he opens his mouth to try to say something. Brendon looks up, confused, and Spencer's vaguely aware of Brendon asking what's wrong, but the only thing in Spencer's mind is, Fuck, fuck, what have I done.
"Brendon, fuck, I-- fuck, I'm so sorry," Spencer says, scrambling off the bed and pulling on the nearest pair of sweatpants. They're Brendon's, too tight and too short on him, and Spencer bit him. Brendon sits up in the bed slowly, looking at Spencer dazedly, and Spencer can smell the confusion coming off him, but Spencer can't-- not now, he can't.
"Okay, no, the fuck?" Brendon asks when Spencer starts to inch toward the door. "Was I-- did I do something wrong? Spencer, stop it, talk to me!" Brendon's frantic, almost yelling by the time Spencer reaches the door, and Spencer freezes, looking up at Brendon.
"Brendon, I bit you," Spencer says again, and it hurts just to say the words out loud, his throat closing up tight and panicked.
"Okay?" Brendon says slowly, his hand rubbing at the mark unconsciously. "Spence, I'm fine, I can handle a little--"
"I'm a fucking werewolf!" Spencer shouts, past caring if Ryan and Jon can hear them at this point, because Brendon's still looking at him, and he's not getting it. "That's how I got turned, Brendon," Spencer says, taking in a shaky breath that burns its way down his throat. "I got bit, and now you-- fuck. I'm sorry."
Spencer's shaking, his hand clenching down so hard on the doorknob that the aluminum starts to bend. There's a few painful seconds where Brendon doesn't say anything, his eyes moving back and forth while he rubs at his shoulder. Spencer's legs are itching with the need to run when Brendon says, "Wait, hold on, stop it with-- hold the fuck on. You can't know you just turned me into a werewolf, so come back here, Spencer." Brendon's voice is thin and upset, and Spencer's fingers twitch on the doorknob.
"No, no, I can't, please," Spencer begs. He can't bring himself to even look at Brendon right now, too sick and angry with himself. He tries, he does, but he can't. He can't even wait around to hear what Brendon says, not when Brendon's too busy trying to calm him down instead of doing the rational thing and freaking the fuck out himself.
Spencer knows it makes him the worst kind of asshole coward, but he runs from the room anyway, actually runs, down the stairs and all the way out onto the patio until all he can smell and taste is the night air. He's panting, his chest aches and his eyes are stinging, and he thinks he might throw up. He actually hurt Brendon, hurt his mate. Not only hurt him, but probably turned him into a werewolf, and fuck, fuck, what was Spencer thinking? He shouldn't have lost control, shouldn't have trusted himself with Brendon like that, no matter how he felt. Brendon's his, and it's his fucking job to keep him safe. Spencer blinks down at his hands when he realizes they're shaking, twitching against the rough railing of the porch so hard that Spencer knows he's getting splinters caught in his palm, but he can't even feel it.
He can't feel anything except for the sick twist of his stomach, can't hear anything but the blood rushing in his ears, and Spencer's knees almost go out from under him. He stumbles back until he hits the wall, and slides down the side of the cabin, resting his head on his knees and taking in big, shaky breaths that don't actually help anything.
Spencer doesn't know how long he's been sitting on the patio in the dark, but at some point Ryan comes out and sits down beside him.
"So," he says. "Brendon's pretty worried about you. Worried enough to suck it up and send me out here instead of doing it himself. What happened?"
Spencer opens his mouth to talk, but his throat feels sore and raw and he just can't.
"Hey, c'mon. Whatever this is, and whatever happened... no running away. That's my thing. I can't deal with your freakout if it causes me to freak out too. Use your head." Ryan reaches over and touches his fingers to Spencer's wrist, and Spencer tries to shrug Ryan away. He can't deal with anyone, not now.
The movement must draw Ryan's eyes down to Spencer's hands, though, because he hisses, grabbing both of Spencer's wrists and pulling them up. "Holy shit, Spencer. Did you decide it would help to beat up a piece of wood? Fuck, like your hands don't take enough abuse already," Ryan mumbles, standing up. "Get up. We have to get these out before they cause infections or something, dumbass."
Spencer does choke out a laugh at that, even if the sound is rough and all wrong. He gets up slowly and follows Ryan back into the house and over to the downstairs bathroom, where Ryan starts digging through the medicine cabinet for some tweezers. "As if you would know what does or doesn't cause infections," Spencer comments, his voice still rough.
"At least I don't go around trying to choke pieces of wood or whatever the fuck you were doing," Ryan says, but the corner of his mouth is quirked up. "Sit."
Spencer sits down on the toilet seat lid and Ryan kneels next to him, grabbing Spencer's wrists and coaxing him to rest them palm-up in his own lap. Spencer's starting to feel the ache in his palms from the splinters, and it helps, just a little bit, distracting Spencer from thinking about how bad he's fucked up. He spent so much of his childhood being the one to help Ryan out when he fucked up that it makes Spencer's chest ache in a warm way that Ryan's doing this for him now, even if he does keep dropping the tweezers.
"It might be faster to just let me die from infection," Spencer comments after the fifth time Ryan fumbles and drops them to the floor.
"My fingers are too long for this shit," Ryan says, biting the corner of his lip as he yanks the last splinter out. "There," he says. "All better." Ryan pats at his shoulder awkwardly, and Spencer surprises himself by letting out a loud, somewhat hysterical laugh.
"What?" Ryan says. "I'm comforting. And stuff."
Spencer keeps laughing and keeps laughing and keeps laughing until it starts to feel more like crying, and he chokes on air when he tries to make himself stop.
"Spence," Ryan says, reaching out for his wrist, but Spencer twists away.
"Just--" he says, turning to face the door. "Just not right now. Okay? I can't right now."
"Okay," Ryan says quietly. "Do you think you should maybe go talk to Brendon now? He's seriously worried, Spencer."
"Hah," Spencer says, "yeah. Yeah, I know the feeling."
"Spencer, what happened?" Ryan asks quietly, his voice serious. Spencer considers not saying anything, not giving Ryan one more thing to worry about on top of everything else, but he just can't.
"I bit him," Spencer says.
"Is that like... something he's not into?" Ryan asks awkwardly.
"Dumbass," Spencer says, feeling marginally better just from Ryan being Ryan. "Werewolf?"
"Oh," Ryan says. "Oh, Spence, shit, is he going to...?"
"I don't know," Spencer says, low and broken. "I don't know how this works, or how I let myself fucking do it. I don't know what to do."
"Spencer," Ryan says, wrapping him up awkwardly in a hug. Ryan never quite got the hang of hugging; he always clings too tight and squirms and doesn't know when to let go, and it's so familiar, so comforting. Spencer melts into it, letting Ryan's elbows dig into his sides. "You should probably go talk to him," Ryan says after a minute, pulling back.
"I can't," Spencer says again, desperately. "I can't. Can I just-- I'm going to stay in your room tonight, okay? Tomorrow, I'll be better tomorrow, just not right now."
"If you must," Ryan says, reaching around Spencer to open the door. "I'll make sure the coast is clear, okay?"
Spencer nods gratefully, shuffling up the stairs after Ryan when Ryan motions him up. Ryan, thankfully, doesn't try to get Spencer to say anything else, just tosses him a pair of the sweatpants he'd stolen from Spencer at some point and lets Spencer have the right side of the bed. "Thanks," Spencer says quietly once they're both settled in.
"Yeah," Ryan says, poking at Spencer's ankle with his toes. "No problem. But if you start snoring I'm kicking you out."
"Sure you will," Spencer mumbles, the exhaustion finally setting in and his heavy eyes falling shut.
Spencer is not, in fact, any better the next day. He wakes up feeling like something is sitting on top of his chest, and once he determines it's not actually Ryan, he's pretty sure it's just the guilt. He manages to slip out of Ryan's room before he wakes up and tries to call Spencer on his bullshit, and he does a decent job of avoiding - or more accurately, hiding from - Brendon, too. The super hearing thing is finally starting to pay off. Everything's going fine until Spencer makes the grave mistake of falling asleep in their room while Brendon is in the studio. He didn't mean to, he just wanted to brush his teeth, is all, but now he's trapped, blinking groggily at where Brendon is sitting on his bed, staring across at Spencer.
"So," he says. "Stop it."
"Brendon," Spencer groans, burying his face back into the pillow. It smells like Brendon.
"No, we're talking about this," Brendon says. "It was a mistake, but it happened, and what's the worst case scenario? I'm a werewolf. It's okay. It'll be weird, sure, but it's okay. We already-- I mean, we talked about this. I'm not going anywhere, we're in this together, so why can't we just be... in this together?" Brendon trails off with a shrug.
"Because I don't want to be," Spencer says. Brendon flinches away and Spencer groans. "Not-- no, Brendon, not like that." He sits up, scrubbing his hands over his face. "I just mean, I don't want you to be a werewolf. I didn't want to be a werewolf. It's not all fun and games and never-ending boners, okay? I can't-- day-to-day life is hell," Spencer says, springing to his feet so he doesn't have to look at Brendon's concerned face.
"It's not so bad here, but on tour, fuck. Everything's so much louder. The bus engine sounds like a lawnmower and the crowd sounds like a fucking air horn directly to the ear. It hurts, and it's hard to tune out, and that's not even mentioning the smells. You know how bad a sweaty crowd of kids smells normally? Try smelling that times a thousand. The bus is like a garbage dump, Ryan's socks make me want to puke, and I can barely see straight sometimes my head hurts so bad."
Spencer's panting a little by the end of it, pacing back and forth in front of the bedroom window as he watches Brendon tense up, his eyes darting nervously. He has to turn away once Brendon starts to smell scared, scared and nervous and wrong, and Spencer's bracing himself for the worst when Brendon touches his shoulder lightly before pressing himself to Spencer's back. "Spence," he says into the skin between Spencer's shoulder blades. "I'm in this. I already told you. Werewolf or no werewolf, I'm with you and nothing's going to change that."
"Are you even taking this seriously?" Spencer says, his back shaking under Brendon's hand. "Did you listen to anything I said? Brendon, this isn't a joke."
"I know that," Brendon snaps, pushing himself in between Spencer's body and the window, forcing Spencer to look at him. "I've known it from the start, Spencer, fuck. It's not like I just fucked first and asked questions later, okay? I knew this could happen and I thought about it, and I had a nice little internal war with myself and decided that this - getting to finally actually be with you - was worth it. And that was when we first started this, okay, so do you really think I'd change my mind now?"
"It's real now," Spencer says, his voice raw. His head is a little dizzy from Brendon's words, from I've known it from the start. Even after the past two months, Spencer still hasn't let himself fully believe that this is a long-term thing, that Brendon was as serious as Spencer was about being mates. "It happened, it's not just a maybe."
"Did you listen to anything I just said?" Brendon asks, giving him a small, tired grin. "'Cause none of it changed."
Spencer lets out a deep breath and slumps forward, resting his head against Brendon's shoulder. "I don't want you to go through that," Spencer says quietly, his breath fogging the glass over Brendon's shoulder. "I don't want you to go through it because of me."
"I know," Brendon says, leaning up and kissing the nape of Spencer's neck. "But there's nothing we can do now. We won't know until the moon, and I'm not spending the next few days sleeping alone and watching you be miserable because of your principles."
"Whatever," Spencer says. "My principles are awesome."
"They're misguided," Brendon says. "But sweet."
"They're awesome," Spencer grumbles, turning his face to nose at Brendon's neck, kissing softly over the bite mark on his shoulder.
"Sure they are," Brendon says, running his hands through Spencer's hair. "I totally agree." Brendon's warm and solid against him, and he smells so familiar that it makes Spencer ache a little. He clutches at Brendon's back, fisting his hands in the fabric of Brendon's shirt and twisting, trying to get closer and closer. "Hey," Brendon says, rubbing at Spencer's back. "Hey, Spence, shh. It's okay. It's going to be okay," Brendon whispers in his ear, and Spencer really, really wishes he could believe him.
Spencer's quiet all through dinner, and mostly mopey while Brendon and Jon play Halo, but luckily no one calls him on it. He can tell Jon's curious, shooting him questioning looks over his plate of spaghetti and later his game controller, but Jon doesn't push. Ryan keeps giving Spencer awkward pats on the shoulder that mostly just amuse Spencer as opposed to actually comforting him, and Brendon sticks close, tangling his feet with Spencer's under the table and wedging himself under Spencer's arm when he takes his turn. He manages to totally block Spencer's view in the process, but Spencer can't complain - not when Brendon is still there, still his, and not freaking out even though he should be.
Brendon starts yawning about halfway through their third round, tossing his controller over to Ryan and tugging at Spencer's arm. "C'mon," he says, standing up and stretching. "Bed."
Spencer swallows heavily and tries his best not to stare at the arch of Brendon's back as he stretches. He feels stupidly nervous about being alone with Brendon, about getting himself into a situation where he might lose control again. It's not like he doesn't want to be with Brendon, because he does, but any time Spencer thinks about it, about what happened last time, his stomach twists sickly.
"Still not subtle," Ryan calls out as Spencer follows Brendon upstairs. Spencer's palm is still a little raw from the splinters, so when Brendon grabs it there's an ache that Spencer holds on to, letting it ground him and remind him that he's not going to lose control this time. He's not going to let it get that far.
"Tired?" Spencer asks when Brendon walks into the room and starts peeling off his clothes. Spencer's voice comes out low, rough, and he almost looks away when Brendon's crawling onto the bed in his briefs, his half-hard cock already straining under the material.
"Not especially. C'mere," Brendon says, and Spencer's stomach twists again as he strips down to his boxers, making his way slowly to the bed.
"So I thought we could--"
"Shh," Brendon says, leaning in until his knees are touching Spencer's, both of them sitting up against the pillows and facing each other. Usually Brendon would already be underneath Spencer or in his lap, and Spencer appreciates that Brendon's not pushing right now. Brendon leans in and presses his lips to Spencer's carefully, though, and Spencer's eyes slide shut, kissing back just as gently. Brendon's turned on, Spencer can smell it, but he keeps his kisses soft, lips sliding against Spencer's without opening his mouth. Spencer lets himself touch Brendon's arm, his hand trailing back to the small of Brendon's back to pull him closer. It's good like this, safe and familiar, and Spencer thinks he's doing okay when Brendon starts to make soft noises, licking at Spencer's lips until Spencer opens his mouth.
Spencer isn't even thinking about it, about the warm skin under his hand or Brendon's lips moving wetly with his or the way Brendon moves close enough that his cock is brushing Spencer's belly, straining out against Brendon's underwear. It's all really, really nice and Spencer's hard too, his lips starting to feel a little swollen now that Brendon's kissing harder, using teeth. It's nice until Brendon whines, shifting forward until he's on top of Spencer, rocking down against his thigh, and then Spencer freezes.
"Wait, wait, we shouldn't-- I can't, Brendon, I can't," Spencer babbles, pulling back, and Brendon shifts back off of Spencer's lap.
"Hey, shh, it's okay, Spence. We're okay. Are you sure you want to stop?" Brendon's biting his swollen lip, probably unconsciously, and Spencer feels a weird mix of arousal and nerves shoot through his stomach.
"I--" Spencer starts, not exactly sure what it is he wants to say. All he wants to do is pull Brendon back into his lap, kiss him deep and rock up against him until they both come. He's just about to reach back out when his eyes flicker to Brendon's shoulder, the angry red of the mark, and Spencer jerks back. "No," he says. "No, we can't, I can't--"
"Okay," Brendon says, holding his hands out and slowly reaching for Spencer, pushing at his shoulders until he falls back to the bed. "It's okay," Brendon says, settling in beside Spencer and resting his head on Spencer's chest.
"It's not," Spencer says, twining his shaking fingers into Brendon's hair.
"Spencer," Brendon says, tipping his head up and kissing Spencer's jaw softly. "Go to sleep. Come on, let's get some rest."
"But--"
"Sleep," Brendon says. Spencer can smell how turned on Brendon still is, smell the edge of frustration underneath, but Spencer is scared of what might happen if Brendon came - if either of them came. Just being able to smell Brendon makes it more difficult for Spencer to ignore how turned on they both are, but Spencer doesn't really have a choice. Not now, not after he's fucked everything up.
Spencer pets at Brendon's hair until Brendon's breathing evens out, his breath warm over Spencer's chest and his heart beating steady against Spencer's side. Spencer closes his eyes and tries to make himself sleep, but he can't seem to turn his brain off, and the lingering smell of Brendon's arousal isn't helping much. Spencer lets his hand come up and brush over the bite mark, his stomach tight with guilt, and doesn't manage to fall sleep until the sun starts to shine through the cracks in the curtains.
Spencer doesn't know how long he's been asleep before he's woken up by Brendon, grinding slowly into Spencer's thigh. It's not the steady twisting movement that wakes Spencer up, but rather the hard press of Brendon's cock into Spencer's hip and the growing scent of arousal in the air around them.
Spencer's still sleepy enough that he doesn't think about it when he pulls Brendon closer, Brendon's hips stuttering forward as he makes a whining noise low in his throat. It makes the heat unfurl slowly in Spencer's stomach, makes him aware of how he's still hard, how much he wants Brendon, the low itch under his skin starting to get more and more unbearable this close to the moon. He slides his hand down to the small of Brendon's back, pressing, and Brendon whines again as he moves closer, his hips rolling against Spencer's thigh. Spencer makes a low noise and lets his face drop to Brendon's neck, taking in the scent of sleep and sweat and arousal, and Brendon clings tighter, his hips working faster against Spencer's thigh.
"Spencer," he groans, his fingers digging into Spencer's shoulder, and all of a sudden Spencer snaps out of it, remembers, and pulls back as the cold dread of the past day settles back into his stomach. "Spencer," Brendon says again, frustrated this time, his hips still twitching forward restlessly.
"Brendon, shit," Spencer says, hauling himself out of the bed and starting to pace in front of the window.
"No, hey," Brendon says, dragging his hand over his face. "Sorry, I shouldn't have--"
"It's not that I don't want to," Spencer says, grateful when he sees Brendon's shoulders relax just a little. "Trust me," he repeats, looking down at Brendon's lap, his hard cock pressing against his underwear, the wet spot at the tip of his cock.
"I know," Brendon says with a sigh. "I get it, I do. But this is the same place we were when we first started, Spence. And we're still not going to know if we don't try."
"But if we do try, and I hurt you again--"
"I turn into a double werewolf?" Brendon says with a smirk.
"Not funny."
Brendon gets up from the bed and stops Spencer's pacing with a hand to his shoulder. "I'm not complaining," Brendon says, "and I'm not pushing, even if my dick has other ideas. But I'm not going to be afraid to touch you just because you're afraid to touch me."
"But--" Spencer starts, before Brendon rolls his eyes and smacks his hand over Spencer's mouth. "You're not the only one who's scared here," Brendon says, dropping his hand and letting it drift over Spencer's chest, trailing down and hooking his fingers into the waistband of Spencer's boxers. "You're just the only one being stubborn." Brendon punctuates his statement with a kiss, a fucking dirty kiss, deep and wet and biting as he trails his fingers through the hair over Spencer's cock, which is just unfair. "Now," he says, grinning as Spencer makes an unconscious noise of protest when Brendon pulls away. "Shower time. It's our turn to go shopping for groceries today."
Spencer's nearly inside the door of the bathroom, following Brendon blindly, when Brendon turns around with a wince. "Maybe, um," he says, glancing down at his dick. "Maybe separate showers today?"
"Yeah," Spencer sighs. "Yeah, that is probably a really good idea."
Brendon pecks him on the lips and shuts the door with an apologetic smile, and as hard as he tries, Spencer can't quite bring himself to do the smart thing and leave the room. It doesn't take Brendon long - Spencer smells him a minute or so after the water turns on, even over the soap and shampoo. He can hear Brendon too, rough, quick grunts as he jerks off, and Spencer shoves his hand down his boxers. He can't help himself - not when he can smell Brendon, can hear him, not when he wants so desperately to trust himself to be the one getting Brendon off. Spencer still feels vaguely guilty, even though he's so, so close, but then he hears Brendon gasp and cut off into a groan, smells him come, and Spencer's coming across his own hand, hot and sudden.
He falls back against the pillows, panting and grabbing his shirt off the floor to swipe at his stomach. Spencer doesn't actually feel any relief, and not just because his cock's still hard. The guilt was bad enough, but now he just feels overwhelmed and helpless. He can't stop himself from wanting Brendon, but he can't trust himself with Brendon either. It's just like Brendon said, like they're right back where they started. Spencer doesn't know if he can do it all over again, doesn't know if he's strong enough to do it at all.
Spencer's still frozen on the bed when Brendon gets out of the shower, but Brendon just kisses him on the forehead and heads downstairs with promises of scrambled eggs if Spencer can get down to the kitchen before Ryan. Spencer closes his eyes and turns his face into the pillow, breathing in Brendon's scent, his scent, and he tries to tell himself that he can do this. That he has to do this.