Time to Play by LittleMousling (Explicit)

[gorgeousnerd]

Fandom: BANDOM (Panic! at the Disco)
Pairing: Brendon/Spencer
Length: 5535 words.
Author on AO3: LittleMousling

Why this must be read: kink_bingo turns up a lot of great stories during its various rounds, and this was one of my favorites from last year. Not only does it illustrate its particular kinks really well and naturally - ageplay with consenting adults most of all - it gives great insight into the characters' heads in the middle of their evening. And it's just really hot.

Summary

When Brendon needs a break from adult responsibilities, Spencer is only too happy to help him out.

For Kink Bingo, a postage stamp for ageplay, shaving/depilation, spanking, and rimming/felching.

Excerpt

Spencer chops the other vegetables and starts sauteing the toughest ones first, garlic and broccoli and onions, and puts the chicken on the griddle. “How’s it coming?” he asks, and looks up to find that Brendon isn’t sitting at the table anymore. “Fuck,” he mutters, and turns the burners off, goes to find him.

Brendon’s in the master bathroom, playing with shaving cream—and a razor. “Brendon, Jesus, put that down,” Spencer says, carefully plucks the razor out of his hand and looks him over for signs of bleeding. Only when he’s sure Brendon is uninjured does he let himself get mad.

“What were you thinking?” He shakes Brendon’s wrist, thinking of the razor between his fingers. “You could really have hurt yourself.” It’s not like Brendon doesn’t act out, when they do this, but this one—it actually scared Spencer, for a second, wondering if Brendon could ever get so far into it, into the freedom of it, that he’d really be as stupid as a child might, as careless. “You can’t play with razors, Brendon.”

It’s Spencer’s razor, of course, Brendon’s own hanging untouched on the other side of the sink, and Spencer’s shaving cream on Brendon’s face. “I just wanted to—like you do,” Brendon says. “I wanted to be like you.” He’s making that face again, innocent and apologetic, and Spencer wants to scream and wants to hug him, all at the same time. He settles for crouching next to Brendon where he’s cross-legged on the bathmat, scrubbing a hand through his hair.

“Okay, buddy, I get that. But you can’t just run off while we’re cooking, and you can’t touch things like that without me being here.” Spencer hopes, suddenly, that Bogart isn’t helping himself to their half-cooked chicken.

Brendon bites his lip—or Spencer thinks so, anyway, under all the shaving cream—and says, hesitating, “You’re—you’re here now.”

That’s … true. Maybe—maybe Brendon wouldn’t be so curious if Spencer let him pretend to shave. “Okay,” he says, slowly. “Okay, you have to sit on the counter, buddy, jump up.”

Brendon obligingly perches on the counter and Spencer picks the razor back up, looks at it. If he flips it, holds the sharp side away from Brendon’s skin, he should still be able to scrape the shaving cream off, let Brendon pretend.

“You gotta hold real still for me, Bren, okay?” Brendon nods, and Spencer puts the plastic edge up to his cheek, drags it down, and shows Brendon all the shaving cream he’s gathered up before he rinses it off for another go.

Time to Play