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stephanometraYeah I don't even know what to say about this one, except that I want ![[livejournal.com profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/external/lj-userinfo.gif)
boweryd to be my fic secretary forever and ever. And that this is way long and that it's kind of sad that I'll never write the larger fic that this scene is hobviously from, wherein Jon ends up with both of his tour FsWB on the same tour at the same time and it is incredibly awkward until he decides that it's time for threesome sexytimes.
I don't even know, dude.
***
"I'm just saying," Jon says carefully, looking at each of them in turn. "There's no reason for us to be awkward about this."
Tom makes an incredulous noise. "No reason?" she demands. "Jon—"
He cuts her off by leaning in and kissing her, gentle but heated, touching the familiar curve of her lower lip with his tongue in the way that always makes her sigh and melt into him. Her hand comes up to rest against his hip, fingers hooking in his belt loop and holding on, like Jon's her lifeline.
And that makes it harder to pull away from her, but he can see Brendon staring at them, confusion and want flickering across his face, like he's not sure why he's being left out, and that's exactly what Jon's trying to prevent in the first place with this entire insane plan. Nobody has to be left out, if they're just willing to try.
He twists away from Tom and turns to Brendon, smiling an invitation and taking a step into his space, and Brendon meets him halfway, sliding a hand into Jon's hair and kissing him with his usual abandon, like there's nothing else he'd rather be doing, and fuck, Jon was an idiot to think he could ever give this up.
They break apart for air, and then Brendon makes a soft sound and moves in to kiss him again, but Jon shakes his head and steps back, looking at Tom, trying to get Brendon to take his cues from her.
"Oh," Brendon breathes as it clicks into place, what Jon's asking for, what he wants them to be. He looks at Jon and then at Tom; his tongue darts out to wet his lips.
Tom looks down and doesn't seem to want to look up again, going quiet and still in that way she always does when she's uncomfortable, and Jon has a moment of oh shit, what did i just do? before Brendon makes a frustrated sound and takes a step towards her, reaching down to tangle his fingers with hers. And that's—yeah, Brendon usually touches everyone, but he's never been like that with Tom; her don't-touch-me vibes are strong enough to deter even someone with Brendon's nonexistent concept of personal space. Jon’s the only one she lets in, especially since things went south with her band. But she takes a sharp breath when Brendon touches her hand, and her gaze snaps up to meet Jon’s.
"Walker..." she says, almost like a warning.
"Hey," Brendon says, but it's only the mildest of rebukes. Jon feels a surge of gratitude that Brendon knows precisely how carefully he has to tread here. "I'm Brendon, actually."
And Tom finally turns her head, looks at Brendon for the first time since Jon started the whole awkward conversation. She's not smiling, but the tense line of her mouth has eased a little. "I know who you are, Bren," she says.
Brendon nods, edging a little farther into Tom’s space. "I wasn't trying to steal him from you, you know that, right?"
She shrugs, trying to look nonchalant, and says, "You couldn't if you tried."
Jon really wants to hug her right then, but he digs his fingers into his thigh and forces himself to stay still, waiting to see what Brendon does next.
And Brendon, for his part, just nods again and says, "I know. Can I kiss you now?"
Tom huffs out a little laugh at that, and Brendon moves in the rest of the way and presses his smile against hers. He brings one hand up to touch the side of her neck, still holding onto her hand with the other, and Jon finally lets himself move, presses himself against Tom’s back and wrapping his arms around her waist, brushing her hair aside to drop kisses on her neck and on Brendon’s fingers.
Brendon tries to keep the kiss gentle and light, probably figuring that if he comes on too strong, Tom’s going to bolt. Given Tom’s recent prickliness, that's pretty reasonable, but the thing is that once Tom realizes that yes, this is happening—and it's something she can let herself have—she gets aggressive so fast that Brendon yelps in surprise when she yanks his shirt out of the way so she can get her hands under it.
"Jon," Brendon says, sounding helpless, and Jon laughs and goes up on his tiptoes so he can kiss Brendon over Tom’s shoulder.
Jon pulls back after a breathless moment to murmur, "There’s a bed here, you know," in Tom’s ear, one hand coming up to thumb over her nipple through her t-shirt.
She makes a low sound and turns her head, lips grazing the stubble on Jon’s jaw before she gently sets her teeth against his lower lip. "It’s almost like you planned this, or something," she says, and lets Jon gently push her in the direction of the neatly made hotel beds. Brendon walks with them, still holding Tom’s hand, but Jon doesn't think that Brendon needs the reassurance, or anything; he seems to just like touching her, and that makes Jon grin like an idiot, that he didn't read this wrong, that he didn't fuck up.
When they finally get to the bed, Tom shimmies away from them enough to drag her shirt over her head, and then sits down on the edge of the bed in her bra and her jeans, her hair a total mess. She looks up at them, guileless, waiting for one of them to make the next move.
Brendon goes to her first, obviously eager now that he knows he's allowed. He sits down next to her and splays one hand over the smooth, pale skin of her stomach. She tilts her head into his kiss, and he makes an enthusiastic sound and responds in kind when she licks into his mouth, the sound of their kissing sloppy and loud in the quiet of the room.
Jon tears his gaze away for just long enough to dig in his bag for condoms. He can't find the lube, and he abandons his search for it when he hears Tom make a sharp, gorgeous sound—Brendon has her bra off and has bent his head to her chest, and the hand that was flat against her belly has crept down to press between her thighs instead. For all that Brendon insists that he's no good with girls, Jon thinks, he seems to have Tom pretty well figured out. But then again, Tom’s different, and always has been. That's one of the reasons Jon loves her.
He drops the box of condoms on the bed and crawls up next to them, his hand covering Brendon’s between Tom’s legs.
Brendon looks up at him, eyes dark, and licks his bitten-red lips distractedly. Jon leans forward to kiss him again, deep and demanding, like he's trying to taste Tom on Brendon’s tongue. He can feel Tom shuddering between them, slides his gaze to the side to watch her watching them.
It's Brendon who breaks the kiss, panting into the still air between the three of them. "What do we..." he starts, and then he trails off, like he's not even really sure what he's asking.
Jon flushes a little. "I—there's no plan, I don't—what do you want?" He doesn't even really know who he's talking to. When he thought about this, thought about the three of them together, he didn't really dwell on sexual logistics. Figuring out how to get the three of them into bed without Tom punching anyone seemed a lot more important, in the big scheme of things.
"I want," Brendon starts, and then he stops, blinks and fixes his eyes on Tom’s. "Can I go down on you? Please?"
"Jesus fuck," Jon grits out, his cock jerking almost painfully in his jeans. Tom just moans and rolls her hips up into the press of their hands.
Getting Tom out of her jeans takes about twice as long as it should, too many eager hands getting in the way. Then when she's naked, she insists that Jon and Brendon strip down, too. Brendon, who was clearly just waiting get naked, actually falls off the bed in his haste to get out of his clothes, and then kneels up in front of Jon. He flashes Tom a devious smile and then undoes Jon’s jeans himself, dragging them down Jon’s thighs and then leaning in to suck on just the head of Jon’s cock.
Jon groans and reaches down to curve his fingers along Brendon’s jaw. He spreads his legs to give Brendon a little more room, Tom moans again when their thighs touch. She has her hand jammed between her thighs, her fingers moving rough over her clit as she watches Brendon tease Jon’s dick with his mouth.
"Jon," she says, urgently. "Jon, fuck me, come on."
Brendon sits back on his heels, looking disappointed, but Jon strokes his cheek reassuringly. "Hold on," Jon says, and then bites back another loud groan as Tom reaches in and slicks a condom down his cock.
Tom wipes her hand on the bedspread and then gently pushes Brendon back far enough that she doesn't kick him in the face when she climbs into Jon’s lap, her back to his front, her thighs spread wide atop his. She reaches down and curls her hand around Jon’s cock, lining him up and holding him steady, and then sinks down quickly, taking him all the way inside in one quick stroke.
"Oh," she moans, head lolling back against Jon’s shoulder. "Oh, fuck."
Jon pets her thigh as she clenches around him, so fucking tight, and then he looks down and smiles at Brendon. He wraps one arm around Tom’s waist, holding her close, and then uses the other hand to spread her cunt open, showing Brendon the wet flush of her. He doesn't think that Brendon really needs much more of an invitation than that, and Brendon doesn't disappoint him, leaning in eagerly to put his mouth on Tom's slit.
The angle's kind of fucked up for Jon, and it's probably impossible on Brendon’s neck; Tom can't really move much, spread wide on Jon’s lap. Yet none of them really seems to mind, not once they get a little bit of a rhythm going, Jon bracing his heels on the floor so he can rock his hips up, Tom's thighs flexing lean and strong against his as she grinds down in his lap, into the press of Jon's cock and Brendon's mouth. And Brendon moans greedily as he works Tom over, his tongue flickering over Jon’s cock where it disappears inside her and his fingertips where he's still holding her open in between steady licks over her clit.
Jon pants into Tom’s neck and tries not to come. His eyes keep fluttering shut, the sensation almost too much when coupled with the sight of Tom’s hands tangled in Brendon’s hair, holding him still so she can fuck his face. All the stimulation is making her so wet that Brendon’s mouth is shiny and obscene with it. When stops to lick his lips, looking up at them with his eyes dark and wild, Jon and Tom shudder in tandem at the sight.
She comes first, back arching as she cries out and trembles in Jon’s arms, shoving Brendon’s face away from her oversensitive clit almost as soon as she stops shaking. Brendon makes a protesting noise and bites at the inside of her thigh, leaving a bright red mark in the shape of his mouth.
"Fuck," Jon breathes, the muscles in his own thighs going tense and taut. Brendon’s pressing his forehead against Tom’s thigh now, hiding his face, panting as he jerks off with short, rough strokes. Jon reaches out and turns his head back towards Jon and Tom. "Bren, Brendon, hey."
Brendon leans into the touch and then moves to take two of Jon’s fingers into his mouth, tongue working sloppy between them.
"Holy shit," Tom says, her cunt spasming hard again around Jon’s dick at the same time Brendon brushes his fingers over Jon’s balls, and there's no way Jon could not come at that, swearing and gasping as he spills into the condom.
Tom lifts off and flops over to the side before Jon has even caught his breath, but his lap isn't empty for long, because Brendon practically launches himself onto the bed, pushing Jon back onto the mattress and straddling his hips, leaning down to seal his mouth against Jon’s as he rubs his cock against Jon’s belly. He tastes like Tom’s cunt, the sweet musky flavor of her come, and Jon moans and sucks on Brendon’s tongue as he pushes a hand between them to curl around Brendon’s cock.
"Oh God, please," Brendon moans, lifting up on his knees a little so he can thrust into the circle of Jon’s fist. It doesn't take long for him to paint Jon’s hand and belly with come, breathing hot and ragged into Jon’s neck as his hips stutter and jerk.
Brendon lifts his head after a moment, lips seeking Jon’s again. While they're kissing, Jon feels Tom’s hand sneaking between them, swiping through the come on his stomach. He turns his head just in time to see her licking her fingers clean, and she gives him a wicked little half-smile when she sees him looking.
"Hey, c'mere," he says.
Tom wiggles closer on the bed, her legs hanging off the edge, and obligingly leans in to kiss Jon, then Brendon.
"So," she says. "What now?"
"Well, I don't know about you," Jon says, making a face as he reaches down to strip off the condom. "But Brendon needs a shower."
Brendon lets out a cry of outrage and slides off the bed, grabbing for the nearest article of clothing—Tom’s t-shirt—and throwing it at Jon’s head. "Fuck you, man."
Jon offers Tom the shirt, and starts wiping his belly off with it when she shakes her head. "Yeah, okay, maybe later," he says, and grins when Tom hides her smile against his shoulder.
boweryd to be my fic secretary forever and ever. And that this is way long and that it's kind of sad that I'll never write the larger fic that this scene is hobviously from, wherein Jon ends up with both of his tour FsWB on the same tour at the same time and it is incredibly awkward until he decides that it's time for threesome sexytimes.I don't even know, dude.
"I'm just saying," Jon says carefully, looking at each of them in turn. "There's no reason for us to be awkward about this."
Tom makes an incredulous noise. "No reason?" she demands. "Jon—"
He cuts her off by leaning in and kissing her, gentle but heated, touching the familiar curve of her lower lip with his tongue in the way that always makes her sigh and melt into him. Her hand comes up to rest against his hip, fingers hooking in his belt loop and holding on, like Jon's her lifeline.
And that makes it harder to pull away from her, but he can see Brendon staring at them, confusion and want flickering across his face, like he's not sure why he's being left out, and that's exactly what Jon's trying to prevent in the first place with this entire insane plan. Nobody has to be left out, if they're just willing to try.
He twists away from Tom and turns to Brendon, smiling an invitation and taking a step into his space, and Brendon meets him halfway, sliding a hand into Jon's hair and kissing him with his usual abandon, like there's nothing else he'd rather be doing, and fuck, Jon was an idiot to think he could ever give this up.
They break apart for air, and then Brendon makes a soft sound and moves in to kiss him again, but Jon shakes his head and steps back, looking at Tom, trying to get Brendon to take his cues from her.
"Oh," Brendon breathes as it clicks into place, what Jon's asking for, what he wants them to be. He looks at Jon and then at Tom; his tongue darts out to wet his lips.
Tom looks down and doesn't seem to want to look up again, going quiet and still in that way she always does when she's uncomfortable, and Jon has a moment of oh shit, what did i just do? before Brendon makes a frustrated sound and takes a step towards her, reaching down to tangle his fingers with hers. And that's—yeah, Brendon usually touches everyone, but he's never been like that with Tom; her don't-touch-me vibes are strong enough to deter even someone with Brendon's nonexistent concept of personal space. Jon’s the only one she lets in, especially since things went south with her band. But she takes a sharp breath when Brendon touches her hand, and her gaze snaps up to meet Jon’s.
"Walker..." she says, almost like a warning.
"Hey," Brendon says, but it's only the mildest of rebukes. Jon feels a surge of gratitude that Brendon knows precisely how carefully he has to tread here. "I'm Brendon, actually."
And Tom finally turns her head, looks at Brendon for the first time since Jon started the whole awkward conversation. She's not smiling, but the tense line of her mouth has eased a little. "I know who you are, Bren," she says.
Brendon nods, edging a little farther into Tom’s space. "I wasn't trying to steal him from you, you know that, right?"
She shrugs, trying to look nonchalant, and says, "You couldn't if you tried."
Jon really wants to hug her right then, but he digs his fingers into his thigh and forces himself to stay still, waiting to see what Brendon does next.
And Brendon, for his part, just nods again and says, "I know. Can I kiss you now?"
Tom huffs out a little laugh at that, and Brendon moves in the rest of the way and presses his smile against hers. He brings one hand up to touch the side of her neck, still holding onto her hand with the other, and Jon finally lets himself move, presses himself against Tom’s back and wrapping his arms around her waist, brushing her hair aside to drop kisses on her neck and on Brendon’s fingers.
Brendon tries to keep the kiss gentle and light, probably figuring that if he comes on too strong, Tom’s going to bolt. Given Tom’s recent prickliness, that's pretty reasonable, but the thing is that once Tom realizes that yes, this is happening—and it's something she can let herself have—she gets aggressive so fast that Brendon yelps in surprise when she yanks his shirt out of the way so she can get her hands under it.
"Jon," Brendon says, sounding helpless, and Jon laughs and goes up on his tiptoes so he can kiss Brendon over Tom’s shoulder.
Jon pulls back after a breathless moment to murmur, "There’s a bed here, you know," in Tom’s ear, one hand coming up to thumb over her nipple through her t-shirt.
She makes a low sound and turns her head, lips grazing the stubble on Jon’s jaw before she gently sets her teeth against his lower lip. "It’s almost like you planned this, or something," she says, and lets Jon gently push her in the direction of the neatly made hotel beds. Brendon walks with them, still holding Tom’s hand, but Jon doesn't think that Brendon needs the reassurance, or anything; he seems to just like touching her, and that makes Jon grin like an idiot, that he didn't read this wrong, that he didn't fuck up.
When they finally get to the bed, Tom shimmies away from them enough to drag her shirt over her head, and then sits down on the edge of the bed in her bra and her jeans, her hair a total mess. She looks up at them, guileless, waiting for one of them to make the next move.
Brendon goes to her first, obviously eager now that he knows he's allowed. He sits down next to her and splays one hand over the smooth, pale skin of her stomach. She tilts her head into his kiss, and he makes an enthusiastic sound and responds in kind when she licks into his mouth, the sound of their kissing sloppy and loud in the quiet of the room.
Jon tears his gaze away for just long enough to dig in his bag for condoms. He can't find the lube, and he abandons his search for it when he hears Tom make a sharp, gorgeous sound—Brendon has her bra off and has bent his head to her chest, and the hand that was flat against her belly has crept down to press between her thighs instead. For all that Brendon insists that he's no good with girls, Jon thinks, he seems to have Tom pretty well figured out. But then again, Tom’s different, and always has been. That's one of the reasons Jon loves her.
He drops the box of condoms on the bed and crawls up next to them, his hand covering Brendon’s between Tom’s legs.
Brendon looks up at him, eyes dark, and licks his bitten-red lips distractedly. Jon leans forward to kiss him again, deep and demanding, like he's trying to taste Tom on Brendon’s tongue. He can feel Tom shuddering between them, slides his gaze to the side to watch her watching them.
It's Brendon who breaks the kiss, panting into the still air between the three of them. "What do we..." he starts, and then he trails off, like he's not even really sure what he's asking.
Jon flushes a little. "I—there's no plan, I don't—what do you want?" He doesn't even really know who he's talking to. When he thought about this, thought about the three of them together, he didn't really dwell on sexual logistics. Figuring out how to get the three of them into bed without Tom punching anyone seemed a lot more important, in the big scheme of things.
"I want," Brendon starts, and then he stops, blinks and fixes his eyes on Tom’s. "Can I go down on you? Please?"
"Jesus fuck," Jon grits out, his cock jerking almost painfully in his jeans. Tom just moans and rolls her hips up into the press of their hands.
Getting Tom out of her jeans takes about twice as long as it should, too many eager hands getting in the way. Then when she's naked, she insists that Jon and Brendon strip down, too. Brendon, who was clearly just waiting get naked, actually falls off the bed in his haste to get out of his clothes, and then kneels up in front of Jon. He flashes Tom a devious smile and then undoes Jon’s jeans himself, dragging them down Jon’s thighs and then leaning in to suck on just the head of Jon’s cock.
Jon groans and reaches down to curve his fingers along Brendon’s jaw. He spreads his legs to give Brendon a little more room, Tom moans again when their thighs touch. She has her hand jammed between her thighs, her fingers moving rough over her clit as she watches Brendon tease Jon’s dick with his mouth.
"Jon," she says, urgently. "Jon, fuck me, come on."
Brendon sits back on his heels, looking disappointed, but Jon strokes his cheek reassuringly. "Hold on," Jon says, and then bites back another loud groan as Tom reaches in and slicks a condom down his cock.
Tom wipes her hand on the bedspread and then gently pushes Brendon back far enough that she doesn't kick him in the face when she climbs into Jon’s lap, her back to his front, her thighs spread wide atop his. She reaches down and curls her hand around Jon’s cock, lining him up and holding him steady, and then sinks down quickly, taking him all the way inside in one quick stroke.
"Oh," she moans, head lolling back against Jon’s shoulder. "Oh, fuck."
Jon pets her thigh as she clenches around him, so fucking tight, and then he looks down and smiles at Brendon. He wraps one arm around Tom’s waist, holding her close, and then uses the other hand to spread her cunt open, showing Brendon the wet flush of her. He doesn't think that Brendon really needs much more of an invitation than that, and Brendon doesn't disappoint him, leaning in eagerly to put his mouth on Tom's slit.
The angle's kind of fucked up for Jon, and it's probably impossible on Brendon’s neck; Tom can't really move much, spread wide on Jon’s lap. Yet none of them really seems to mind, not once they get a little bit of a rhythm going, Jon bracing his heels on the floor so he can rock his hips up, Tom's thighs flexing lean and strong against his as she grinds down in his lap, into the press of Jon's cock and Brendon's mouth. And Brendon moans greedily as he works Tom over, his tongue flickering over Jon’s cock where it disappears inside her and his fingertips where he's still holding her open in between steady licks over her clit.
Jon pants into Tom’s neck and tries not to come. His eyes keep fluttering shut, the sensation almost too much when coupled with the sight of Tom’s hands tangled in Brendon’s hair, holding him still so she can fuck his face. All the stimulation is making her so wet that Brendon’s mouth is shiny and obscene with it. When stops to lick his lips, looking up at them with his eyes dark and wild, Jon and Tom shudder in tandem at the sight.
She comes first, back arching as she cries out and trembles in Jon’s arms, shoving Brendon’s face away from her oversensitive clit almost as soon as she stops shaking. Brendon makes a protesting noise and bites at the inside of her thigh, leaving a bright red mark in the shape of his mouth.
"Fuck," Jon breathes, the muscles in his own thighs going tense and taut. Brendon’s pressing his forehead against Tom’s thigh now, hiding his face, panting as he jerks off with short, rough strokes. Jon reaches out and turns his head back towards Jon and Tom. "Bren, Brendon, hey."
Brendon leans into the touch and then moves to take two of Jon’s fingers into his mouth, tongue working sloppy between them.
"Holy shit," Tom says, her cunt spasming hard again around Jon’s dick at the same time Brendon brushes his fingers over Jon’s balls, and there's no way Jon could not come at that, swearing and gasping as he spills into the condom.
Tom lifts off and flops over to the side before Jon has even caught his breath, but his lap isn't empty for long, because Brendon practically launches himself onto the bed, pushing Jon back onto the mattress and straddling his hips, leaning down to seal his mouth against Jon’s as he rubs his cock against Jon’s belly. He tastes like Tom’s cunt, the sweet musky flavor of her come, and Jon moans and sucks on Brendon’s tongue as he pushes a hand between them to curl around Brendon’s cock.
"Oh God, please," Brendon moans, lifting up on his knees a little so he can thrust into the circle of Jon’s fist. It doesn't take long for him to paint Jon’s hand and belly with come, breathing hot and ragged into Jon’s neck as his hips stutter and jerk.
Brendon lifts his head after a moment, lips seeking Jon’s again. While they're kissing, Jon feels Tom’s hand sneaking between them, swiping through the come on his stomach. He turns his head just in time to see her licking her fingers clean, and she gives him a wicked little half-smile when she sees him looking.
"Hey, c'mere," he says.
Tom wiggles closer on the bed, her legs hanging off the edge, and obligingly leans in to kiss Jon, then Brendon.
"So," she says. "What now?"
"Well, I don't know about you," Jon says, making a face as he reaches down to strip off the condom. "But Brendon needs a shower."
Brendon lets out a cry of outrage and slides off the bed, grabbing for the nearest article of clothing—Tom’s t-shirt—and throwing it at Jon’s head. "Fuck you, man."
Jon offers Tom the shirt, and starts wiping his belly off with it when she shakes her head. "Yeah, okay, maybe later," he says, and grins when Tom hides her smile against his shoulder.
