So, like, here’s a secret: my ultimate kink?

DRY-HUMPING.

Oh yeah, guys. I can’t get enough of it. It needs to happen all the time, to everyone. In this fic, it happens to Jon and Spencer.

I’m a little nervous about posting this, because it’s a little pornier than I usually do (I can’t help it, guys, I like my humor fic) but I’m trying to start a revolution here, okay? People should write more dry-humping! Guys, guys, Jermaine Stewart was right! We don’t have to take our clothes off to have a good time!

Hey, stfumillard? Please don’t tell anyone I write porn on the internet, okay? I trust you with this secret.

Title: They Should Know We Are Impatient
Author: tremblings
Rating: R
Pairing: Jon/Spencer
Word Count: 1300
Summary: The first time was an accident, but it was, like, the best accident ever. It was also technically against the rules, since they’d all had a talk during Brendon’s weird maybe-I’m-gay phase and had unanimously agreed not to fuck bandmates.
Disclaimer: Not mine, don’t sue, plzthnxbai.
Author’s Notes: your__design not only is the greatest beta I know, but she also puts up with my weird kinks without so much as a word of discouragement. In fact I think her actual response to this idea was ‘OMFG YES PLZ’, so mad props for that.

The first time was an accident, but it was, like, the best accident ever. It was also technically against the rules, since they’d all had a talk during Brendon’s weird maybe-I’m-gay phase and had unanimously agreed not to fuck bandmates.

But technically, technically, Jon tells himself, there was no fucking going on. No one took their clothes off. They barely even made out. Like, Brendon and Ryan had kissed with more tongue on stage. It was totally innocent.

It was also, like, the hottest thing Jon’s ever done in his life.

They were at a hotel, sharing a room, as usual, because they both liked to flip channels until they fell asleep, and the TV noise drove Ryan crazy. It was originally just something that made sense. And then Jon started to notice the way Spencer’s belly curved, just barely, when his t-shirt rode up. And he and Spencer started to drink together sometimes, just a bottle of wine between them, when it had been a rough day. But Spencer was a lightweight and the alcohol made his cheeks turn this totally biteable pink and Jon was beginning to think all of this was a bad idea.

It was really a bad idea to drink directly after a show, when they were still crowd-high and Spencer’s shirt was sticking to him and Jon’s fingertips felt wired, electric, like everything he touched was buzzing. It was such a bad, bad, bad idea to drink so close together, Jon in one of those hotel desk chairs that they only really used to throw their crap on when they walked in, and Spencer curled up too, too hot against his leg.

It was a bad idea, but Jon maintains that it was totally Spencer’s bad idea, because he sighed and said, “It’s really a shame about the band rule.”

“What, the one where we all have to wear those rosettes?” Jon said, making a face.

“No,” Spencer said simply. “The one where I can’t fuck your brains out.”

Jon choked on a mouthful of wine.

“It’s a real shame,” Spencer repeated and took another drink.

“It. Um. Yes?” Jon said, voice going a little cracked at the edges.

“I was just thinking about it logically, you know,” Spencer said, which made sense to Jon. Spencer was always the one thinking about things logically. He was usually right too, which made Jon’s stomach do a pleasurable little lurch.

“Yeah?”

“We didn’t really define ‘fuck’, you know what I mean? The rule just says we can’t fuck.” Spencer took another drink.

Jon wanted to cross his legs but his jeans were getting a little uncomfortable, and Spencer wasn’t looking at his crotch anyway. He was carefully studying the wine bottle, like he was reading the nutritional information. “So how should we define it?”

“Well, obviously flat out sex is off the table,” Spencer said. “Blow jobs too, probably.”

“That,” Jon said, “is very true.” It was also a damn shame.

“I think basically anything that requires clothing removal,” Spencer sighed. “Sucks, because I don’t know about you, but I think I look pretty awesome naked.”

“Buh,” Jon said.

“So,” Spencer said, and he stood and flipped one leg over Jon’s hips, straddling him neatly before Jon was even aware of what was going on. Spencer settled himself and Jon could feel their dicks press together through layers – too many layers – of clothes. Jon’s hips twitched without his permission when Spencer really rested his weight in Jon’s lap.

“Um. What?” Jon said. Nice what, but what?

“We don’t have to take our clothes off,” Spencer smiled, and rolled his hips, pushing against Jon.

“Cheesy song,” Jon said, a little breathless. The wine was going to his head and his blood was going to his dick. There really wasn’t much left for common sense.

“Shut up,” Spencer advised, and rocked his hips again, dragging up slow and coming down with a quick twist that made Jon suck breath through his teeth and grab Spencer at the waist.

“What?”

Spencer’s thighs came in closer and he pressed his head to Jon’s shoulder, saying, “Stop talking, Jon.” And thrust against him again.

“Okay,” Jon agreed, fisting his hands in Spencer’s sweat-damp t-shirt.

Spencer took that as permission and proceeded to basically dry-hump Jon’s brains out. Jon could feel Spencer’s mouth, open and breathing hot against his neck. He kept one hand firmly anchored in the fabric at Spencer’s back, and found his chin with the other, trying to turn his face. He wanted to taste the sweat on his lip, he wanted to kiss him, he needed to. He rocked up to meet Spencer on the way down.

Spencer arched back, eying at Jon reproachfully. “No kissing,” he panted. He wasn’t helping matters, exposing the arc of his throat like that. Jon groaned and settled for pressing his face against the thin skin over Spencer’s collarbone, trying to breathe in the taste of him. Spencer moaned and held onto the chair back with one hand and Jon’s shoulder with the other, moving faster and breathing harder.

“Jon,” he said. “Wanted to do this for so long.”

“Yeah, yeah,” Jon said, nodding thoughtlessly. “Spence.”

“Gonna make you come like this,” Spencer said, somewhere between a forecast and a promise.

“What about you?” Jon said, dropping his hand from Spencer’s back to squeeze the flesh at the top of his thigh, just barely against his crotch.

“Don’t touch,” Spencer warned. “Not allowed. Besides,” he said, meeting Jon’s eye and grinning, open-mouthed, “I won’t need you to.” He pressed harder.

“Oh god,” Jon said, and bucked up. “Spencer, I’m-”

“I know, I know, just do it,” Spencer said, his motions becoming erratic and desperate. “I’m waiting for you.”

“Fuck,” Jon said. “Fuck the fucking rules,” and he grabbed Spencer’s jaw and kissed him, hard. When Spencer’s mouth opened under his, he came.

“Jon,” Spencer breathed, hips hitching as he let out a noise against Jon’s lip between his teeth.

For the next few minutes, Jon was too busy kissing Spencer to realize they were both wet and sticky and that he would probably never be able to look at furniture without getting hard ever again. When he finally managed to pull himself away he said, “Okay. Okay, so. So. What do we do?”

Spencer, as always, was quick with the logic, which Jon really appreciated because his brain was kind of broken. “We’re going to take showers - separately - and we’re going to fall asleep watching infomercials and then tomorrow we are totally having the most awkward band meeting ever and then I am seriously going to blow you in the bus.”

“Good idea,” Jon said, because it really, really was.

EDIT: Continued HERE.