Author: Telis (theaerosolkid)
Summary: There is such a thing as asking for too much.
Word Count: 4,469
Disclaimer: Fake, fake, fake.
A/N: Sex pollen fic. Blame disarm_d! (Also, thanks for the beta <3)
There is such a thing as asking for too much.
Cash sometimes tries not to be, but he's a superstitious kind of guy -- he tosses salt over his shoulder, he jumps over sidewalk cracks, he knocks on wood, he does all that stuff. He wishes on dumb things like eleven-eleven and significant street names, but he'll also wish on things like shooting stars, as lame and stupid as that sounds. Cash figures some people have Jesus, some people have Allah, some people have the Torah, some people have their own gods, and some people don't have anything at all, but he's got a list of things that are his own little talismans.
Getting the record deal to begin with, that was a lot. Like. A lot. When it started looking like it wasn't an impossibility, when Brendon slung his arm around Cash's shoulders and pulled him in close for a reassuring hug, Cash maybe started freaking out, very, very quietly.
They were outside, in Ryan's backyard, and it was spring and pretty warm already. Brendon was just as excited as the rest of them, Ryan maybe a little standoffish, Jon maybe a little big-brotherish, Spencer maybe a little bossy, but Brendon, he was right there with the rest of them, jumping for joy.
"Hey," Brendon said breathlessly after tackling him for the millionth time, "hey, you've got an eyelash, here, make a wish." He poked at Cash's face until he managed to get the stray eyelash to stick to his finger.
Cash hadn't wished on eyelashes since he was a little kid, but Brendon was earnest and he was offering and as far as Cash is concerned, you should never turn down a chance for a free wish, so he pressed his forefinger to Brendon's and let his eyes slip shut, and when Brendon said, "One, two, three, wish," the first thing that Cash thought, instead of record deal was you; horrified, he jerked his finger away.
He'd gotten the eyelash but his heart didn't stop pounding -- which wish, which wish, which wish?
Then, of course the record deal goes through and Cash figures that means that you really can correct yourself when you're making wishes.
He wonders if this means he doesn't get Brendon.
Probably, it does.
Part of the magic of wishing is that, unlike other safeguards like heads-up pennies, it will only work if you use it sparingly. If you wish for everything, Cash figured out when he was younger, then you get nothing at all. You have to be careful about what you wish for, not necessarily because you might get it, but because you might not get anything at all. You have to be selective.
Cash sometimes spends the night at Brendon's, because Brendon hates sleeping alone. Not in a weird way, Cash rushes to say when Ian starts snickering, but he just. Doesn't like being alone in a house or an apartment or whatever, and Shane's got a girlfriend with her own place, so he'll sometimes stay over with his girlfriend instead of in the condo he shares with Brendon.
These nights, Cash will come over early, usually before Shane leaves, and they'll all watch a movie, and Shane will leave halfway through or so, and Brendon and Cash will keep watching movies until it's late enough that Cash can justify staying over at Brendon's.
"Hey," Brendon says sleepily one night, when they're mostly done watching all four Die Hard movies, end-to-end. "I'm gonna just sleep in here, okay?"
"Uh-huh," Cash mumbles. He fumbles for the Xbox remote, manages to get it to shut off. The room goes darker, then, and Cash rolls to his side. He's sprawled out on the floor, but it's warm, it's summer in the desert, so it's not like he'll freeze or anything. He can hear Brendon's snuffling sleepy breaths from where he's curled on the couch.
With the room darker and the television on its countdown to turn itself off, Cash finds himself much more alert. "Fuck," he mumbles, because there's nothing worse than being the only person awake at someone else's house. There's nothing he feels like he can do. Except try to sleep.
Brendon mumbles something, then falls silent. Cash sighs a few times, then gives up and crawls to the oversized armchair on the other side of the room and burrows under the extra hoodie Brendon tossed onto the chair earlier. He doesn't mean to smell it or anything, that would be weird, but he kind of can't help it, and yeah, it smells like Brendon. He squeezes his eyes shut and shrugs into the hoodie after a moment of contemplation.
"Brendon," he whispers. He doesn't want to wake Brendon up, exactly, just sort of nudge him to the point of being coherent if he's not quite asleep yet. But there's no response, even though it's really not late at all. Cash glances at his watch, tilts it to catch the light from the window. It's barely even one am. "Pathetic, Urie," he whispers, and climbs to his feet.
The only thing Cash can think to do at this point is to wander outside, take a walk. He doesn't lock the door behind him, because God alone knows where Brendon's hidden his keys now, and anyway, it's a nice part of town. Kind of. Whatever. Brendon's lived in worse. Cash makes his way across the lawn, barefoot and dismayed, finding that the damp grass is serving only to shock him further awake. He sighs again, and then heads right back to the front door. He can just sit in the chair and wait for sleep to take him, then. It's not like he has anything to do in the morning. He can take his time.
Cash settles down into the armchair, feet tucked up under himself to warm them, thinking belatedly that getting Brendon's furniture wet and kind of dirty might not be the nicest thing, but whatever. It's just a chair. He can't seem to get his eyes to actually close, though, which is annoying. He's very aware of Brendon's presence, and has a stupid urge to go curl up on the couch with him, only that's just. Not a good idea. There are lines that you really shouldn't cross. He's been lucky enough. He's been given enough. Still, Cash can't help the compulsive glance down to his watch, and when the display says 1:11, he bites his lip and wishes, just to himself, I wish I could.
When Cash wakes up, he's not sure how long he's been asleep. It's still dark outside, so it can't be all that early.
Normally, Cash jerks awake quickly, instantly sharp and ready, but right now it's not working like that, it's like he's wading through a muddy river, looking for cognizance. It comes, slowly, and everything looks fuzzy. He clears his throat, swallows hard a few times, and it works, he's a little more awake. Which was stupid, because how he's just going to have to fall asleep again. It'll probably take longer this time, because he already feels like he's twitching with energy. Like he could go play three shows then run a fucking marathon. He takes a deep breath, tries to tell his body to sleep, but it's not working.
"Fuck, fuck, fuck," he grunts, rubbing at his eyes. He's acutely aware of the hoodie he's still wearing, how it smells so strongly of Brendon -- more strongly than it did when he first put it on, which is weird, because it should smell less like him, now that Cash has been sleeping in it for a few hours.
Brendon is still out cold, except for the part where he doesn't look cold at all. Brendon sweats a lot normally, but Cash never noticed that he apparently sweats in his sleep. His forehead looks damp, and so does his upper lip. Against his own better judgment, Cash makes his way to the couch, crouching on the floor right next to it, and tugs the sleeve of the hoodie over his right hand, and leans in to wipe gently at Brendon's skin. Brendon leans into it, still asleep, but he shifts up into the rustle of fabric across his face, and then suddenly it's like Cash is can't escape how good he smells, like he's got his face buried in Brendon's shirt, it's that strong. He can't hold back the harsh little whimper of longing when Brendon moves closer; he's still asleep, but that's not making it any easier. Cash bites his lip, hard, tries to shock himself out of whatever daze he's in, but that doesn't work, it just makes him think about biting Brendon's lip. Cash closes his eyes, and without thinking at all, dips his head down and kisses Brendon, softly.
It takes a moment, but Brendon stirs beneath him, a muffled, "Wha --", and then Cash is just kissing him harder, licking at Brendon's lip before taking it between his teeth and biting gently. Brendon groans, sleepily, and moves away.
Or tries to. Cash kind of climbs up onto the couch and presses his weight over Brendon, and Cash isn't a big guy, but Brendon is tiny, so he's got him pretty well pinned. Brendon squirms under him, and Cash moans into his mouth, desperate, grinding down against him.
"Cash -- " Brendon's gasping out, and Cash reluctantly moves away, meaning to let Brendon talk, meaning to pull himself away and stop this, but it's not going to work, because Brendon tosses his head back, probably to clear it; the action exposes the smooth skin of his throat and Cash groans out loud and fixes his mouth to the curve of Brendon's neck, kissing and sucking. Brendon kind of stutters and jerks against him, but doesn't try to shove him away. "What -- what the -- ?" and his voice is rough with sleep, and it's not like Cash really has any defense against that, so he just keeps grinding down against Brendon, pushing his cock against Brendon's sharp skinny hip and oh God, he's so hard, so fucking close already, and Brendon's not helping, wriggling like that underneath him, breath coming quickly and he smells so fucking good and Cash is so, so fucked, because he won't stop moving like that, and maybe he's trying to push Cash away, but he's not doing a very good job of it, and every movement of his hips rubs right up against Cash's cock, and even though jeans and boxers it feels fucking amazing and Cash just can't stop sinking his teeth into Brendon's skin and coming with a low grunt, bucking against Brendon.
"Fuck, oh, God," Cash whispers, and his mouth is still just right there at Brendon's skin, and he can't -- can't stop kissing, can't stop nipping at the skin, and he's probably giving Brendon one hell of a hickey right now, but he can't be bothered to stop because Brendon just smells so good, he's right there, and Cash just came right in his pants, but he feels like he's just so hard again already, undeniably so, and he goes right back to rolling his hips down against Brendon.
"Cash, are you?" Brendon asks, and he might be pushing Cash away for real now.
"Fine, I'm fine, I just -- " Cash tries, but it's no good, he just wants to keep moving, keep friction, it feels too good, surrounded like this by Brendon's scent, so he keeps with it, trailing his mouth up to meet Brendon's. He dips his tongue inside, sucks on Brendon's lip, grinds his hips against Brendon's, hard, and Brendon's hand comes up to stroke through his hair, and that's just -- too much, too much, and Cash comes again, already, fuck.
While he's trying to catch his breath, Brendon stops moving, just goes still. Cash can feel that he's hard, which -- isn't the worst discovery, actually.
He's still breathing hard, still trying to come down, but there's a slow curling in the pit of his belly, and slithers to the floor again, on his knees, reaching for Brendon's jeans, unbuttoning then unzipping, jerking them down clumsily, tugging on Brendon's underwear until his legs are trapped by fabric bunched around his knees. Brendon doesn't seem to be complaining, though, arching up into it. One of Cash's hands comes up to cup Brendon's hip, pushing him down to the couch before ducking his head and wrapping his hand around Brendon's cock, guiding it to his mouth.
It's all he can think, with the first rush of pre-come against his tongue, just Yes, God, hearing Brendon whimper and feeling him thrust up into Cash's mouth. He sucks hard, taking as much as he can. It's not enough, not as much as he wants, really, but Brendon gasps and bucks his hips, so maybe he's doing all right. Cash hasn't really had much experience in this specific area, this specific cocksucking area.
He pulls back, licks at the head then sucks his way back down, farther this time. Brendon's hands come up to rest on his skull, his fingers thread through Cash's hair, and he shudders, because it's -- overwhelming, really, everything all together like this and Cash drops his free hand to his crotch, fumbles his jeans open and gets his hand inside his boxers and starts stroking himself. He's not terribly good at double-tasking in the best of situations, and right now he kind of stops moving his head, but manages to at least keep sucking so Brendon can thrust up into his mouth. It's working well enough, they manage something like a rhythm, and Brendon's making these noises, little whimpering groans, and it's absurdly hot, and it shouldn't be, but it makes Cash moan around his mouthful of cock, and Brendon stutters out a cry and comes in his mouth.
Cash doesn't manage to swallow it all, he's too focused on jerking himself because he's just so close, but he tries to get as much of it as he can. Some of Brendon's come dribbles down his chin, and he swipes at it with the back of his free hand, and sort of absentmindedly licks at it, and then, right there, that's enough to push him over the edge again.
His orgasm crashes over him with an intensity he's not prepared for, and he curls in on himself, stroking his way through it. He's still sparking his way through aftershocks when he thinks to glance up, to chance a look at Brendon's face.
Brendon's watching him with wide eyes like he's not quite sure what to believe.
"Hi," Cash says, clearing his throat.
"Hey," Brendon says uncertainly. "Uh, shower?"
Keeping his hands to himself while Brendon is bent over the tub, reaching to turn the shower on is one of the hardest things Cash has ever done, because Brendon shucked off his clothes as soon as they got into the bathroom, and Cash is left standing and staring kind of dumbly at the line of his back, the curve of his ass. Brendon doesn't turn back to face him before climbing into the shower, and Cash hurries to get naked and get in there with him, because that's really a lot of skin, and there's some sort of implicit permission kind of deal that seems to be going on right now.
Brendon allows himself to be manhandled back against the shower wall and kissed, but when Cash slips a hand down the line of his hip, he pulls back.
"Dude," he gasps.
"Sorry," Cash says, blinking hard. Still, that really is a lot of skin, and it's sort of irresistible, the forming bruise on Brendon's neck. He covers it again with his mouth and flicks his tongue softly. Brendon sighs contentedly and leaves him to it. Cash still can't seem to get control of himself, he's feeling the curling stirrings of arousal in his belly again and he groans against Brendon.
"Seriously?" Brendon asks, but seems pretty happy about it. He drops to his knees more quickly and gracefully than Cash would have thought possible, and noses at Cash's cock, humming appreciatively. "Okay?"
"Uh," Cash manages as Brendon sucks him in. He just goes down, taking Cash nearly all the way, and he curses because that feels so much better than anything should, really. Brendon wraps one hand around his cock, wet and firm, and Cash thrusts into it. Brendon takes him easily enough, and nothing could really have prepared him for this, nothing could've gotten him used the the idea of Brendon Urie sucking his cock like it's a privilege to do so.
He's not going to last long at all, even after already coming three times, because the sensation's a lot, the sucking, the heat of the water pounding his shoulders, the fact that it's Brendon on his knees, eyes closed and cheeks hollowed. He grunts in warning, and Brendon just hums and sucks harder until Cash is moaning and coming, and he just swallows neatly, like it's nothing at all. He sucks more softly when Cash is coming down, and presses a soft kiss to his hipbone before rising.
"Um," Cash says, and Brendon chuckles before kissing him again.
They stay like that, under the water, hands drifting lazily until Brendon pulls back to kiss his way across Cash's jawline, and he looks ridiculously appealing, damp and slick and Cash realizes with a sinking feeling that he's suddenly, desperately hard. Again.
"Are you okay?" Brendon asks when Cash whimpers. He's so, so over-stimulated right now, it's like he can feel every little drop of water on his chest and shoulders, feel the trickles running down his back and oh, God, if he doesn't come again soon, he's going to die.
"Y -- no," Cash groans, twisting his hips, searching for friction. "God, I need to fuck you." He regrets it as soon as he closes his mouth, when he hears Brendon's sharp inhale. "Sorry, fuck, I don't know, I just -- fuck."
"Did you take something?" Brendon asks, low and urgent.
"No," Cash says, frustrated beyond belief. His hands are gripping Brendon's hips hard enough to bruise, digging into his flesh, but Brendon doesn't seem to mind.
"Cash," he says, serious, and Cash shakes his head fervently. "Okay, all right," Brendon says then, mostly to himself, and he reaches above his head for conditioner, squirts some into his hand and pries Cash's hand away from his body before working their fingers together, getting Cash's fingers slick.
"Yeah," Cash breathes, and slides his fingers along Brendon's ass, creeping towards his hole, rubbing with just one before sinking in. He's trying to go as slowly as possible, but it's just not easy, not with Brendon making the same soft little noises, and they're so close, Cash's cock is -- again -- lined up so perfectly against Brendon's hip, and that's so good, he can't stop thrusting against him, in time with his rough strokes in Brendon's ass. He pushes another two fingers in at once, and Brendon gasps at the sensation, tense with pleasure, and that just pushes their hips together harder, and Cash just can't stop himself from stuttering to climax again.
"Did you?" Brendon pants, and Cash nods, but when his eyes open he sees Brendon's collarbone and the line of it is compelling, little droplets of water decorating his skin, and Cash whimpers before leaning down to suck at him, nibbling as gently as he can bring himself to. His fingers are still in Brendon's ass, stretching and rubbing, and Brendon's hips are circling against the pressure, and, hey, Cash is hard again, God, how is this even possible? He pushes Brendon around, presses him to the tiled shower wall and gets his cock right up, sliding along the crack of Brendon's ass, and Brendon pushes back into it.
"God," Cash gasps, and pushes in quickly. Brendon groans, and Cash hopes he's okay, because he can barely think right now, much less ask if Brendon's okay. The way he's squirming back on Cash's cock seems to indicate as much, so Cash doesn't hesitate any longer before pulling nearly all the way out and fucking back into him.
There's absolutely no grace to his movements now, no chance of it; he's too fucking desperate to get some relief at this point. He sinks his teeth into Brendon's shoulder as he pushes in again, roughly, fucking Brendon hard and completely without finesse. Brendon groans, tries to work back against him, but the rhythm is too irregular. Brendon's groaning out nonsense words, not making any sense at all, and Cash takes that as a good sign. His hips are really moving on their own, now, he's pounding into Brendon with almost bruising force, but Brendon just weathers the onslaught, guides one of Cash's hands to his cock. He keeps his own hand wrapped around Cash's so that they're jerking him off together. Cash worms his hand away and gets it over Brendon's, and Brendon whimpers. Cash squeezes harder and thrusts harder, and right when Brendon tips his head back and shudders with release, he clenches down around Cash's cock, and he comes, too, again, too much.
They sink to the shower floor in a boneless heap, and Brendon just barely manages to turn the water off as they fall.
"Better?" Brendon asks, breathless, and Cash grunts. It is, and it isn't; he can tell that in a few minutes he'll want more, more of Brendon, but right now he's just feeling so raw, like every nerve ending has been sanded down and left bare.
"I don't know what -- " he tries, but he has no energy left for speech.
"Yeah," Brendon says, and when they start shivering, he stumbles to his feet and pulls Cash up with him.
Cash has no idea how they manage to make it to Brendon's bedroom or how he even manages to get dressed. Brendon seems to have figured out that physical contact is probably not the best idea right now.
"Did someone drug you or something?" Brendon asks. His brow is furrowed with concern.
"Can't've," Cash mumbles. He's as far as possible from Brendon right now, on the other side of the room, crouched and leaning against the wall, and it's still not far enough. He wants to push Brendon down to the bed and fuck him until they both can't breathe.
"We should probably get you to a doctor or something," Brendon says. He was nice enough to put a shirt and pants on, but even freshly-showered, Cash can smell him from right across the room and wants to do something about it, badly.
"I dunno," Cash says tiredly. He might actually be able to sleep, now.
Brendon comes closer, kneels down, and nope, no sleep for Cash. Not if his dick has anything to say about it. Brendon glances down and does a double take. "Again? Seriously?"
"Yes," Cash snaps, and Brendon shakes his head before tugging the loaned sweatpants down and licking up the length of Cash's cock. It's too much right now, he's still twitching but he's also mercilessly hard, and as much as he loves this feeling, Brendon's mouth working over him hot and insistent, he's really just too fucked to enjoy it. He fucks up into Brendon's mouth, and Brendon takes him just as easily as before, and it takes longer this time for him to finish, but he barely notices the time, too busy whimpering, ready for this to be over already.
Brendon keeps sucking, keeps taking Cash's erratic thrusts, and finally, finally, he's coming, and although the relief is blindingly sweet, he still feels like like someone punched him in his stomach.
"I'm sorry, I'm sorry," Cash gasps.
"Don't -- " Brendon says throatily, and that pulls an interested twitch from Cash's cock, oh God, not yet, not again, but he gets away quickly enough, hovering nervously in the doorway.
Cash is suddenly exhausted, beyond all possible reason, surprised at his sudden weariness despite what he's just put his body through. He collapses on the floor, breathing heavily, and Brendon keeps his distance.
"You're gonna hate me," Cash mumbles, closing his eyes, waiting for the next onslaught of terrifying arousal.
"No," he thinks he hears Brendon say softly, but his ears are ringing, he's shivering, he's overheated and sweaty and feels disgusting.
When Cash wakes up, the first thing he notices is how sore he is. He groans, stumbles to his feet. Brendon's nowhere in sight, which is good, although Cash thinks he's probably back to normal by now.
"Hey," he hears Brendon call. Light is streaming in through the windows. Cash blinks and tries to shake his head.
"Time?" he rasps.
"Little after ten," Brendon says, approaching the doorway again. "I just let you sleep, figured it'd be better if I just, you know. Left you alone."
"Yeah," Cash says, and reaches up to scrub vigorously at his scalp. "Fuck. Shane back?"
"No, he's gone all day. You look like you're feeling better," Brendon says carefully.
"Yeah," Cash says again. Silence. "I'm, um. Really sorry about that."
Brendon waves him off. "Don't be."
"I just. I kind of. Took advantage of you," Cash mumbles, looking away.
"Don't worry about it," Brendon says, his voice oddly level.
"Are you gonna tell anyone?" Cash asks, biting the inside of his cheek.
"Of course not, Jesus," Brendon says. He's frowning. "You should still probably see a doctor, though."
"I guess," Cash says.
"Seriously, I know you're, like, obviously better, but I'm worried, man."
"I'll be fine," Cash says immediately. "Thanks for. You know. Putting up with me."
"Yeah, seriously, stop fucking worrying about it," Brendon says emphatically.
"I don't want this to, like, make it weird," Cash says, gesturing between them. "Can we just. Go back to the way we were? I swear to God, I'll go to a doctor or something if we can just. Forget this ever happened. Like. Ever."
"Is that what you want?" Brendon asks. Cash takes a moment with that one. Brendon has a way of asking questions like there's a right or wrong answer, and often what you think is the right answer is, in fact, the exact opposite. Cash takes a deep breath, decides he'll take his chance with the truth. It can't really get any worse than it already is.
Brendon is right there, then, and God, that's a relief, having him close but without the shuddering, frenzied desire of last night. "God, you're a fucking idiot. Why didn't you just ask, you moron?"
"I did, kind of," Cash tries, but Brendon just leans in and kisses him.