#brendonurie | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

loverontheleft · 8 months

Text

No, Now (revised)

No, Now (Revised)

Brendon x reader.

Warnings: what is technically public sex, oral sex (both), fingering, language, things of that nature.

Word count: 2.4k ➡️ 4.3k

-||-

“Come with me.” Your voice is low as your eyes dart around the ‘step and repeat’ area of the red carpet.

Zack and the photographers nearby are all miraculously distracted; you seize the opportunity and grab Brendon’s sleeve, tugging him after you. Instead of going straight down the red carpet and finding your seats inside, you drag him around the edge of the backdrop. You’re not sure what your plan is exactly, but you know going into the award show’s seating area isn’t part of it, and getting your husband alone is. You’ll figure out the rest as you go.

“Darlin, I think we’re supposed to still be—”

“Hush, Urie.” He shuts up, eying you appreciatively; he loves when you get bossy and demanding. Suddenly, you spy a set of double doors marked ‘Crew Only.’ You glance around you to double check that no one is watching; once you’re confident you’re being unobserved, you walk toward it briskly, bringing Brendon with you, thanks to your firm grip on his jacket cuff.

The hallway in which you’ve found yourselves is dark, but you can see the bright glow of stage lights up ahead. “Act natural. Don’t draw attention.” You pause, looking over his gray jacket with metallic detailing and how it’s catching the tiny amount of light in the space and shimmering. “Any more attention, Disco boy,” you amend, grinning when he laughs. You cast a look around and spy a dressing room door hanging open. “Yeah. That’ll work.”

You lead the way, your fingers interlocked with his; once inside, you kick the door closed and push him up against it. “Baby,” Brendon groans, “I don’t think this is my—”

You press your lips to his. “I love you, but please, shut up,” you murmur against his mouth and he nods; he brings both hands to your face and eagerly returns the kiss. While he’s engrossed, your fingers start fumbling with his belt, jerking it out of place and letting it hit the floor.

“Darlin’, wait — you know I love you too, and I love how much you need— but we should probably just — sweet fuck your mouth is good— I don’t think we should— we probably shouldn’t actually—in here right now— oh god, fuck, your hand—” he’s cut off by his own groan of pleasure at the feeling of your hand urgently stroking his dick through his pants. The tone of Brendon’s words against your mouth and the way his cock throbs against your palm both reveal his desperation and arousal, so you don’t feel at all bad for ignoring his feeble protests.

Besides, the two of you have always prioritized each other and being alone or intimate, and you both love knowing how badly the other needs you. Granted, you’ve also always tried to respect work boundaries; however, the way you rationalize it, it’s not like you’re keeping him from a meeting or a performance right now. It’s just the photo op, and they’ve all gotten their shots already. Now it’s your turn to have him, and you intend to.

“No, now. Need you right now, B.” You pull back from the kiss to glance down and undo his pants, unzipping them roughly. He groans your name; you bite back a moan and shove them down by the waistband, your eyes heavy with want. He cups your face in one hand tenderly, and you press a soft kiss to his palm before dropping to your knees in front of him. Satisfied with the way he’s staring at you desperately, you mouth over his briefs, teasing him with your hot breath and relishing the dull thud of his head against the door.

“Baby, what on earth has gotten into—”

“Regrettably, nothing has gotten into me yet, but rest assured, I plan to fix that by getting your cock into my mouth in the next ten seconds.”

“Why—”

You roll your eyes at him affectionately from your kneeling position on the floor. “You’re really not going to let me suck your dick until you get answers, huh?” He laughs a little and shakes his head, making you sigh in mock-exasperation. “Because Bren, you’re fucking incredible and gorgeous and so damn sexy, and I’ve been eying you since four this afternoon when you got dressed. Trust me, if I could’ve kicked everyone out of the hotel room and shoved you down on the bed then, I would’ve. If I could’ve blown you until you were grabbing at the back of my head and fucking my mouth, I would’ve. If I could’ve sucked your cock while you called me your good girl and told me you were going to come, told me you needed me to swallow for you, you know I would’ve. But I couldn’t. And now we’re here, and everyone is staring at you. No one can take their eyes off of you; you look so damn good. They all want you. But I’m the only one who gets you, and I want you. Now.” You’re breathing hard, and you slide your hands up his thighs, biting your lip as you meet his eyes. “Was that enough of an answer? Can I just have you now, Brendon? Please?”

“Jesus— as if I’m really gonna say no to my perfect wife after all that. And she’s down on her knees for me with her gorgeous face and those eyes that drive me absolutely wild? Fuck, I’m the luckiest man.”

You grin and yank his underwear down, closing your mouth over his hard cock. “Love getting you like this,” you moan, pulling back to delicately lick him, one hand encircling the base while the other rests flat on his thigh. “Love feeling you on my tongue. We both know you’re gonna come hard, and I’m gonna take it all for you,” you tell him before closing your mouth over him again. You’re glad you chose to straighten your hair; he’s got both of his hands in it, and he’s tugging slightly the way he knows you like when you’re going down on him. If you had curled it, it wouldn’t be half as easy to fix when you’re done with him.

“God, sweetheart, don’t stop— yeah, suck just like that, baby— I fucking love how you…damn, take my whole cock in your mouth— holy fuck, that’s so good, rubbing with your tongue — so good; you’re so good for me,” he sighs, watching you through hooded eyes. You nod slightly, taking him deeper and pressing in close so the swell of your breasts pushes against him; you can feel him twitch in your mouth, and his grip on your hair is tightening as he moans and rocks his hips forward. You know he’s close already.

The doorknob shakes, followed by hesitant knocking, and you both freeze, staring at each other in horror. If it weren’t such a bad situation to be caught in, with your lips tight around the base of his cock and his balls in your hand, you’re sure you’d find it all quite funny. A tentative voice comes through the door. “Mr. Urie? Mrs. Urie? Uh…if you’re in here...they sent me to look for you.”

Maybe it will be funny later, you tell yourself, but right now, you scramble to your feet, backing away. Brendon tucks his cock back into place with a low groan and yanks his pants up, giving you a playfully scolding look as he checks the full-length mirror to see how obvious his erection is. Satisfied that it won’t be anyone’s first observation, he grabs his belt. The fantasy flashes before your eyes; you cling to him now, one hand rubbing over his cock, and you whisper in his ear how you want him to shove you back down to your knees, bind your wrists behind your back with the belt the way he does at home when you both want it rougher, and fuck your mouth til he comes all over your tongue and tits. It would be so easy to ignore the person at the door and, as you point out, even easier to come in your mouth.

His eyes close for a moment, and you can feel his cock throbbing. Just when you’re debating if you should make him come in his pants, Brendon looks at you desperately, and you sigh in resignation. You know, realistically, you can’t stay in this room any longer. You gesture at the door for him to open it. Instead, Brendon wipes a thumb along your lower lip, and you realize he’s fixing your lipstick. You resist the urge to take his thumb in your mouth and suck—it would only be a tease for you both. Satisfied with his quick clean up, he slides his belt into place and unlocks the door.

The young woman standing there looks petrified, and the clipboard in her hands is trembling. “I’m— I’m sorr—it’s just—they’re trying to get everyone seated now, and they told me I had to—I’m really sorry for, uh…interrupting you,” she stammers, and you feel awful for putting her in this position. Your stomach twists a little when you see the ‘Intern’ badge dangling from her neck. She definitely doesn’t get paid enough to be tasked with keeping you two from fucking. She’s still shaking; this definitely wasn’t what you had in mind when you dragged your husband out of the press area for a quick blowjob.

Brendon takes your hand and smiles gently at her. He’s always been skilled at diffusing tension, and you smile too. Her shoulders visibly relax. “Of course. Lead the way,” Brendon says kindly, and she nods frantically, setting off at a quick pace.

When you’re seated, you squeeze his hand, and he turns to you, his eyes sparkling in amusement. “I’m sorry,” you whisper and he shrugs, still grinning as if it wasn’t a big deal. “No,” you continue, “that was all my fault. I’m really sorry.”

Brendon shakes his head a little. “Don’t even stress about it, babydoll. Was so hot, having you need me like that, and it could have ended far worse. She didn’t actually see anything, but she got enough to have a great story to brag to the other interns who got stuck stuffing gift bags.” He laughs softly, stroking your hand. “I promise I’m not worried, so you shouldn’t be worried.” When you nod, accepting this, his hand slips from yours to high on your upper thigh, where he lets it rest possessively. His fingers flex, and he leans in close. “But you’ll be finishing that later, yeah?” He nuzzles your neck, and you blush, nodding. “Good,” he murmurs. “Fucking love seeing you down on your knees, your sweet mouth full of my cock.”

-||-

The crowd is screaming, the band is rushing off-stage, and his whole face is glowing: performing gives him such a rush. You’re waiting in the wings, and he hurtles toward you with a look of deep intent in his eyes. Brendon grabs you full-force, kissing you hard and pressing you against him with one hand on the small of your back and the other tangled in your hair. “Need you, pretty baby,” he whispers against your lips, and you cling to him. It doesn’t matter how long you’ve been together, it always makes your knees weak when he says that. “Now,” Brendon adds through the desperate kisses, as if that wasn’t already clear.

He takes your hand to lead the way, and you can hear the protesting of the stage manager behind you. The man gives up quickly though, instead barking into his headset that they need two seat fillers for the Uries. Getting people to fill in your now-empty seats sounds like a begrudging acceptance of Brendon’s plan, and you both smile triumphantly at each other. Let everyone else gossip all they want; the only opinions you two care about are each other’s.

Brendon pulls you into the dressing room he used earlier to change from the red-carpet wear to his stage suit. He’s barely got the door fully closed and his suit jacket off before you’re on your knees and snapping his belt open. You get his pants down just enough, practically panting at the thought of getting him in your mouth.

His urgency matches yours; he wraps a hand around his erection and presses the head of that perfect cock against your lips. You both moan a little when you press a soft kiss to his shining tip. His hips rock forward, and you grin up at him.

Brendon is breathing hard, his cock already leaking precum; you’ve got your lips just barely parted to tease him. The head of his cock rests on your lower lip while he strokes over himself urgently.

You love watching Brendon touch himself, love wondering what he’s thinking about when his eyes go dark, his head rolls back, and his grip on his cock tightens. Part of you wants to let him get himself off, because he’d come all over your mouth, chin, and cleavage. Instead, you open your mouth slightly, tongue sliding over his length as he presses forward gently, his hands back in your hair. “Yeah, baby, you look so damn hot like this,” he groans, caressing the back of your head, but not pushing or urging you. “Such a good girl, down on her knees for me and letting me —shit, that’s so good. You’re so damn good; suck for me, baby—fuck yeah, just like that, keep sucking my cock.”

You whimper around him, eyelashes fluttering; he knows what his praise does to you. Brendon’s not usually one for blowjobs—it’s not that he dislikes them by any means—it’s just that, as he says, he gets off on getting you off. You definitely appreciate and take full advantage of that, but sometimes you just want your husband’s cock in your mouth; you want to make him come undone and leave him groaning your name the way he does to you. You feel so proud of yourself in the moments after, when you get to rock back and take him in: sprawled on your bed, face flushed, chest heaving, and body limp after he’s come in your mouth. He always catches you by the wrist and guides you down to lay against him, and he buries his face in your neck, breathing hard and murmuring soft praise. As much as you love the stream of dirty talk while you’re blowing him, there’s something so wonderful about him stroking a thumb over your hip, nuzzling you sweetly, and pressing soft kisses along your skin.

Now, you let one hand curl around the base of his cock while the other wanders down between your legs to rub small circles on your clit; going down on each other gets you both so worked up. You’re grateful for your choice in dresses, because if you hadn’t gone with this wrap dress, the fabric wouldn’t have opened around your spread knees.

“Playing with your clit is my job, babydoll,” Brendon tells you with a touch of feigned jealousy, watching your fingers fly over yourself. You slow down but don’t stop, your eyes daring him to scold you.

He’s about to say something else when his mouth drops open and his hand tightens around the curve of the back of your neck. You’ve decided to tease him a bit; you’re repeatedly swallowing around his length, tormenting him with the repetitive tightening of your throat. You know this might make him come, and you have mixed feelings about that. On the one hand, you do want him to come. You want him to feel incredible. On the other hand, you don’t want to stop. You love blowing him, and you love the way he reacts every time you do. But, back on the first hand, it’s probably time to wrap this interlude up before you get caught again, so you really need him to come.

You’re not actually sure how long you’ve been on your knees, but you can’t get enough of him. You’re both making small, soft noises of pleasure as you give him the leeway to rock into your mouth. The feeling of his cock sliding over your tongue and nudging the back of your throat always makes you wild; with both of his hands on the back of your head while his hips thrust forward, Brendon’s fucking your mouth slowly, but his urgency is building. You move your hand to press flat against his stomach; you can feel his breathing getting shallow, and his muscles are tensing.

Since he dragged you back here, there’s been at least four explosions of applause; you’re figuring it’s been maybe ten, fifteen minutes. You’re probably running out of time before another poor intern is sent to find the two of you.

You regretfully move away from your clit and cup his balls in your slick hand, squeezing gently and pushing them up against him while you take his cock deep again, nose pressed to his pelvis.

“God, baby, I’m gonna come; that’s gonna make me come if you keep—rolling them like that, shit,” he tells you a little breathlessly, his hands tugging at your hair. “Gonna come in your mouth, I’m gonna—oh fuck—you’ll swallow for me, baby?”

You nod, meeting his eyes; when he looks at you, he swears softly, hips twitching forward once more as he finishes. You moan in satisfaction as you swallow, making small, pleased noises and running a hand over his thigh, the other stroking him through his peak, encouraging him to fill your mouth.

“Oh fuck,” he pants, tipping his hips back when he can’t take it any longer. You swallow once more, licking idly at the corners of your mouth to collect every drop. Brendon’s above you, watching intently as he zips himself away, and he runs a hand through his hair before dropping to his knees so he’s level with you. “Goddamn, I love you so fucking much,” he murmurs, kissing you hard. “My best girl, my perfect girl, mine.”

You moan into his mouth that you’re his, and you grab one of his hands to pull it down between your legs and rock eagerly against his fingers. You know you don’t have the time, but you can’t help it. “I fucking love this wet pussy,” he adds as he rubs two fingers against you before sliding them in, muffling your cry of pleasure when he crushes his lips to yours.

Brendon brings his fingers back after a moment, letting the tip of his tongue trace them as he runs his other hand through your hair and stares at you desperately. “God, I need more. Need to taste you, get this perfect cunt all over my face,” he whispers, and you feel yourself get even wetter.

“Bren, we don’t have time; they’re gonna be looking for us— well, for you, anyway. Isn’t your category soon? I can wait. I should wait. We should get back.”

He shrugs as he hauls you to your feet and carries you over to the couch, gently reclining you with his hand still supporting your head. “Don’t care. Need you now,” he insists.

You start to protest again, but he squashes your arguments when he kisses your lips lightly and moves down your jawline, your neck, and to the swell of your breasts in the deep V of your dress. His fingers toy with the tie of your dress, biting his lip. “Need you, pretty baby. Can I have you? All wrapped up in this dress like a present for me…can I have you, honey?” You nod, and he swiftly pulls the tie, the shimmery material slipping and sliding off of your body, leaving you exposed for him. “Damn,” he murmurs, running a hand along your side and tugging your panties down. “Hate that I have to make this quick. I’ll make it up to you later, I promise. Still gonna get you riding my face, coming on my tongue now though.”

And with that, he’s off the couch and onto his knees between your legs, dipping his head down to run his tongue across you while both hands massage your hips and thighs, encouraging you to drape your legs over his shoulders and let him make you feel good, let him take care of you the way you both love. You’re breathless; his mouth is so warm and wet, his tongue just slipping from side to side. He’s teasing, and he tugs you forward by the hips and shifts slightly so his chin presses against you.

Your man has always fucked with every part of himself: he groans and opens his mouth wider to push his tongue deep into you while he rubs at your clit, sighing happily when your hips rock forward, giving him more. You’ve got a hand in his hair, tugging slightly but mostly keeping him pressed against you. “Yeah B, like that,” you whimper as he switches, fingers thrusting deep and tongue rolling over your clit softly. “Oh fuck,” you whisper when he spreads his fingers, rotating them slightly and he looks up at you, eyes sparkling. “Feels good,” you tell him and he winks at you, adjusting his jaw to press his chin against you more, letting you grind in place. As much as you love your clit getting attention, you’ve always loved firm pressure a bit lower, and he gives you that. “Bren, I‘m so close,” you sigh, and he makes an encouraging noise, letting his eyes slip shut to focus on you.

“Want you to come all over my face,” Brendon murmurs, and his fingers, still working you hard, suddenly curl inside you, rubbing and pressing; you shriek, feeling yourself come hard on his fingers and mouth.

“Fuck yes—soak my face, honey,” he groans, tongue slipping from your clit to lap at you; his thumb quickly replaces his tongue, keeping the pressure light but pulsing over your clit. A low moan slips from you, and he gives you one more slow stroke with his tongue, dragging it over you before sitting back on his heels. Once he’s rocked back, he licks his lips and wipes a hand over his face, smirking when you blush.

“Shit, I’m sorry,” you say, and he looks at you incredulously.

“Baby, I told you to come on my face, and I did everything in my power to make sure you would. There’s no need to apologize.” You blush deeper, shifting as he runs his tongue over each finger. “Don’t wanna miss a single drop,” he says with a satisfied smile, and you laugh, feeling how slick your inner thighs are. You run two fingers across them before offering your fingers to him, moaning softly when he sucks at them greedily. “Fuck, honey,” he manages to say around your fingers before sucking hard again.

“You’re so fucking sexy,” you whisper, watching his heavy eyes darken at the taste and the way his full lips slide off your fingers. You’re both breathing heavily, and he pushes himself up, crawling over you and settling between your thighs, chest to chest, his lips seeking yours. “Love you so much,” you murmur, and he repeats it back to you, smoothing your hair.

It would have been a sweet moment if there hadn’t been a rapid knocking at the door. “Mr. Urie, we really need you; your category is coming up and the seat fillers simply can’t fill in for your close-up reaction shot.” The stage manager sounds incredibly annoyed, and it makes you wonder if he’s been trying to get your attention for a while and just couldn’t, thanks to all of the moaning and squealing Brendon was coaxing from you. Now though, you both scramble up from the couch.

“Sounds like we’re in trouble,” Brendon says with a lazy smile, re-tying your dress and pulling his jacket on, adjusting the collar in the mirror and dabbing at his mouth and chin with a tissue. He gives you a once over, and you nod, studying him. His hair is disheveled, but it could pass for getting messed up while on stage. He opens the door, but you push it shut again, kissing him hard and sliding a hand down to squeeze his cock.

“I want more later. Want your cock in me later.”

He nods, teeth catching your lower lip and tugging gently. “Oh believe me honey, you’ll get more. You’re going to get everything I can give you.” Brendon opens the door; the stage manager gives you both a cold stare, turning and beckoning over his shoulder as he sets off at a brisk pace.

When you get back to your seats, the man gives you both a stern look. “No more sneaking off. You’re both going to be professional adults, sit here nicely for the camera, and not give me a stress-induced heart attack.”

None of it was a question. You try to hide your grin, but Brendon openly laughs. When the man’s face darkens, you both promise, and the stage manager stalks off to leave you both simmering in your shame. The only flaw in his plan is that you’re never ashamed of how badly you want Brendon or what you’ll do to get him.

Brendon’s hand creeps up your thigh, rubbing soft circles over it. He leans over, breath hot on your neck and his voice low. “Just you wait until I can get you in the car. I have so much more planned for you and your sweet pussy. Earlier was just an appetizer, and honey, you know I’m still hungry.”

#brendon urie #my work #brendon urie smut #brendon urie imagine #brendon x reader #fanfic #imagine #brendonurie #brendon urie fanfiction #panic! at the disco #my work revised

31 notes · View notes