How a Resurrection Really Feels

8

Spencer looks at the pile of clean clothes on his bed – thank you, Brendon – trying to decide what to wear before going down for breakfast. 'Breakfast' is actually just a mug of coffee as they cannot afford to have several meals every day, even if they are in no dire need to get more just now.

It took him hours to fall asleep last night as his brain just wouldn't stop working. It was even harder for him to sleep when he had to hear Ryan moaning in the other room. Ryan, who was supposed to be suffering, was moaning, and it wasn't in pain but in pleasure. Life can't be this unfair: Ryan tries to fuck Jon and as a result gets to fool around with a virgin while Spencer hears them at it. Honestly?

He's not proud that he shot Ryan in the arm, but he's not guilt-ridden by it either. Ryan had it coming. He knows it was an extreme measure, but he was angry. Ryan had to learn. Maybe this entire mess is his fault because he's been too lenient over the years. Ryan always falls on his feet because Spencer is there to cushion his fall. He cleans up Ryan's messes, and therefore Ryan never even realizes the full consequences of his reckless actions. Ryan comes out unscathed, worriless and pleased with himself. He even gets pissed off at Spencer for 'interfering'.

Spencer shouldn't have to look after Ryan for the rest of his life. If things don't change, someone will end up dead – and it might be the both of them if Ryan screws up again. Spencer refuses to die because of his friend's stupidity. Ryan needed to experience pain at least once so that the next time, he'll think twice before fucking around.

That was Spencer's plan yesterday, anyway, not to mention the personal gratification of aiming the gun at Ryan after years of wanting to do just that. But was justice served? No. Ryan got a gun wound and an orgasm. Spencer got momentary satisfaction and zero chances of getting laid.

That is just not fair.

He refuses to accept that. If life isn't fair to him, he will force life to be. It's time to stop worrying about everyone else and start worrying about himself. They've been given more time since the discovery of the food in the basement, and Spencer wants that time to be about him. For god's sake, just him. He fucking deserves it.

He puts on a pair of tight jeans and an equally tight black t-shirt; clothing that shows off his body and muscles. He's not going to dress up like a slut the way Ryan does when he wants the attention of some guy, but Spencer still wants to seduce Jon.

The only thing he has to do is push Jon a little and then he will be all over him. Hopefully. Truth is, no man has shown any interest in him in fucking months. It's not like he's unattractive now, but when he started sleeping with one eye open, he might have become boring. Men don't want boring – they want dangerous and sexy. And Jon is not just some guy: he's Fifty-Two Walker.

If Jon actually wanted Ryan, he would have told Spencer to piss off and fucked Ryan there and then. But Jon didn't. Instead he tried to explain, but Spencer wasn't having any of it. Today is a new day, and he can't stop thinking about what Jon wanted to say.

When Spencer goes down to have breakfast, he finds Brendon in the kitchen. "Morning," he says tiredly as he takes a pot and sinks it into the bucket of water they always have ready in the kitchen. It's still early and there's already fresh water and the oven is also on. Brendon obviously got up early.

"Good morning!" Brendon smiles happily and nods towards the cooker. Spencer can smell the sweet, sugary scent coming from it. "Told you I was going to bake a cake. You wanna see? It should be done!" he declares, wrapping kitchen towels around his hands and then quickly pulling a baking tray out of the oven. "Cake!" Brendon declares as he shows Spencer his creation. "It's only a sponge cake, but doesn't it smell lovely?"

It really does.

Brendon is beaming, clearly in a good mood. He's always like that, but Spencer assumes that what happened last night with Ryan has a lot to do with this.

"Awesome," Spencer says, not able to be mad at the kid who ruined his plans of making Ryan suffer. Knowing Brendon's cooking skills, that cake will taste as good as it smells.

"It has to cool down first. Maybe you'll have some with your coffee later?" Brendon suggests, now putting the tray on the cooker.

"That's cool," he says, taking a seat. "Is Jon up yet?"

"I haven't seen him. The door of his room is closed, so he must be asleep."

Or maybe he's avoiding Spencer? Spencer was pretty nasty to him yesterday, but fuck, he was angry. Now that he's calmed down, he's relatively sure it was just Ryan being a horny fucker and nothing from Jon's side. Jon is always consistent with people and, well, everything. Jon decides on something and that's just how it's going to be. Jon wants him, not Ryan. Jon has not been watching Ryan bathe. He hopes. Plus, Ryan is a sneaky bastard, and when Ryan needs to get laid, he will get laid sooner rather than later.

Jon sticking to his room makes his plans more difficult to execute. He can't seduce a guy who's not there.

Spencer sips on his coffee, and Brendon joins him with some tea, but Jon doesn't come down. Spencer keeps listening for footsteps that don't come. For god's sake, he put on his super tight jeans just for Jon.

"I'd better go upstairs and see how Ryan's doing," Brendon announces, and he looks at Spencer expectantly. Spencer just quirks an eyebrow. He knows what the kid is doing, but he is not going to ask how Ryan is. From what he heard last night, Ryan is coping.

Instead he asks, "If you see Jon coming out of his room, tell him to come to the shed, okay?"

Brendon purses his lips together in what might be disapproval, but nods. "Okay. I'll come get you when we're having cake."

Spencer drags himself to the shed. Is his plan even going to work? He never knows what's going on inside Jon's head because the guy just stays quiet all the time, and not just verbally but physically too. Zero body language hints. In the past, when Spencer's thought that Jon was going to lose it and start shooting around, Jon's stayed still. When they found an edible looking cat, Jon threatened to eat them if they lay a finger on the animal. When Spencer was convinced he was going to rape Brendon, Jon had different motives entirely.

Ever since the first day of their runaway trip, when he was sure Jon was going to kill them, Jon has done everything Spencer hasn't expected him to do. What if his plans to seduce Jon will go to hell and alienate Jon from him completely?

Spencer stops at the door of the shed, eyeing the big blood stain on the floor. The blood doesn't bother him since he's more than used to blood stains. What bothers him is returning to the scene of the crime. Ryan with Jon. Fuck, it still pisses him off.

He walks in, picking bolts off the floor. Some are rusty, some clean. He smiles. He didn't ask Jon to help him out yesterday but Jon was clearly helping him by himself. Maybe Jon was trying to be nice? Or he was really bored, which is the more obvious option, but he'd like to think that Jon wanted to be nice to him because Jon really wants to sleep with him and thinks that Spencer's super awesome.

After picking all the nuts and bolts from the floor – if any are missing, he will kill Ryan for real – he starts working on his bike. He wonders whether to keep his shirt on or off. He could show Jon some skin, try and get the seduction process working underway.

He gets bored waiting for Jon to show up and begins to work on the bike just to keep himself entertained. Of course, it would be a billion times better to keep himself entertained with someone like Jon, but right now the loose parts of his bike are all he has, so he picks up his tools and starts putting the engine pieces together.

"You wanted to see me?"

Spencer startles, dropping his monkey wrench. "Shit, you scared me," he breathes out, eyes focusing on the man in the doorway.

"Sorry," Jon says, walking in.

Jon shouldn't be – getting startled was good. Spencer needs to act cool and he doesn't want to look like he was waiting for Jon.

Spencer breathes out, smiling slightly. "It's okay. I was too focused on this." He moves to pick the tool from the floor, suddenly realizing that it's a great chance to start the seduction so he does his best to bend over as much as he can. Skin tight jeans, work it. When he stands up straight, Jon is staring at him with a blank expression.

Nothing? Nothing? Fuck.

"You wanted to see me?" Jon asks again.

"Yeah," he confirms, pulling himself together. "I thought maybe you could help me a bit?" he asks, biting on his lower lip and trying to look alluring.

"Sure."

They sit on opposite sides of the table. Jon takes the cleaning liquid, the metal brush and some rusty parts and says, "I only know how to clean these. Sorry I can't help much."

"It's fine. Helps me a lot, actually," he assures Jon, tilting his head to the side to show off his neck. He's been told he has a great neck. "I really appreciate it," he adds, voice slightly husky. He'd also appreciate Jon's cock up his ass.

Jon focuses on his work, not even noting Spencer's efforts. Spencer feels annoyed and irritated, trying to figure out if this is going anywhere. Jon is not the most talkative or expressive guy in the world, which Spencer was aware of, but usually there's more communication between them than this. Maybe Jon's still pissed off about yesterday? Jon wanted to explain his version of what was going on with Ryan, but Spencer firmly told him not to. God, is Jon really mad at him for snapping? Spencer had the right to be mad, so does he have to say he's sorry? They're men, for Christ's sake, they are not supposed to act like this because of some yelling and –

"Jon, listen, about yesterday... I was angry. But not with you," he finishes, daring to place his hand over Jon's on the table and stare straight into the other man's eyes.

"It's okay. Don't worry," Jon replies flatly, lifting his hand from under Spencer's to resume his work.

Spencer blinks. It's not 'okay'. Jon was upset. Jon should be losing sleep over it.

"I know that it was Ryan just being Ryan," Spencer explains further, indicating that it's alright, he gets it, and that they should fuck now. Spencer leans forwards slowly, hoping that the table wasn't between them. "I just don't want things to be weird between us because of him."

"I get it, don't worry. We're cool."

Jon isn't staring at him but at the stupid metal parts. For the first time since their arrival at the house, Spencer thinks that the old bike can go fuck itself.

He's flirting and Jon is showing no interest at all. Maybe he really has lost his charm? Maybe he doesn't know how to flirt anymore? But Jon thinks he's hot. Jon has to – it's the only reason you'd watch someone bathe, because you want to bone them. Jon wanted a piece of his ass when he wasn't flirting, but now that he is really trying to drop hints, Jon is not picking up on any of them.

Spencer doesn't take his eyes off of Jon for a second. He's using his best seductive gaze, expecting Jon to notice that he's being watched – constantly – and look up to meet his lust-filled eyes, and then Jon will throw all the things on the table or the floor and ravish Spencer right there.

But Jon never looks up, no matter how intensely Spencer is staring or running his tongue over his lips, playing with his hair, sighing, breathing louder...

The only time that Jon takes his eyes off of the bike pieces is when Brendon stops by to let them know that the cake is ready to be served. Jon nods, gets up and leaves.

Spencer feels pissed off.

The cake is the only good thing that happens to him the entire day. He spends most of his time around Jon, dropping hints that Jon doesn't seem to notice. Jon can't be so stupid that he doesn't know when a guy is flirting with him, can he? But after purposefully spilling coffee on himself just to take his shirt off and let Jon see his well toned body during their third mutual coffee session that day, it dawns on him that maybe Jon just is that stupid. Jon gets up and says, "I'll get you a clean shirt." Just like that, without checking him out, without any sign of interest.

Spencer stares after him in disbelief. He is shirtless and acting like a slut. What could be more obvious?

He decides that it's time for extreme measures.

The annoying part about taking a bath is the uncountable trips he has to make, carrying and boiling water. He regrets having picked the tightest pair of jeans he owns when he empties the last bucket of warm water into the tub. Bending and lifting is too uncomfortable in these jeans and they didn't even help him to get Jon.

He should have thought of this before. Jon likes to watch him bathe, so he just has to do it again, but this time he will say something when he catches Jon. A casual, "Oh, Jon! I didn't know you were there... Do you want to join me?" will work perfectly, and after that Spencer will be having sex in a tub filled with hot water, their pleasured moans echoing in the misty bathroom. God, that's all he wants.

As he undresses himself, he studies the tub and its size. He's not sure if they are going to manage to fit in it, let alone fuck in it. They'll figure it out.

Once completely naked, he wraps a towel around his waist and heads upstairs. The house is quiet for now. He plans to be loud as hell and he has every right to be: getting fucked by Fifty-Two Walker after months of celibacy? That's plenty of reason to moan his lungs out.

He passes by Brendon's room, noting that the door is closed. He was expecting that, anyway, and right now he doesn't really care what Brendon and Ryan do or don't do. He only cares about Jon and him.

He knocks on Jon's door, receiving a grunt that signals 'Oh, please do come in, whoever you are'. He pushes the door open, finding Jon lying on the bed with Monster resting on his stomach. The cat seems to be asleep and Jon is absently stroking its fur.

"Hi," he says as smoothly as he can, leaning against the doorframe, letting the towel hang low, low, low on his hips. Jon stares, not saying anything. "Well, I just- You know. Wanted to let you know that I'm gonna go take a bath. A long, nice relaxing bath. Feel a bit on edge, you know? Gotta do something to... loosen up a bit."

"Right."

Spencer keeps smiling and flicks his hair from in front of his eyes. "Okay. So I'll be downstairs. In the bath. By myself."

Jon keeps staring. "Alright."

Spencer lingers around for an extra minute, hoping for Jon to defenestrate the cat and jump on him instead, but Jon seems content where he is, not bothered or captivated by Spencer's amazing abs. And he has amazing abs.

He swallows down the bitter taste of disappointment as he heads back to the bathroom. Okay, so Jon is playing hard to get. Fine. Jon's defenses will crumble when he sees Spencer's smooth, tattoo-covered muscles, Spencer all alone in the bath...

This time Spencer decides to face the door, wanting to be sure he doesn't miss Jon. The water is warm as he lets himself sink in. He's hard. It might be a bit pathetic that he's hard, but his dick is anticipating sex just like the rest of him is.

He relaxes in the water, absently letting one hand reach for his cock. He doesn't stroke himself properly, just lets his fingers skim over his aching hard-on. He thinks about Jon, his hands, his mouth, his gorgeous muscles and six pack, and god, what those arms would feel like around him...

He keeps listening intently, waiting for the sound of Jon's footsteps descending the stairs... Though, to be fair, Jon might be sneaky, clearly oblivious to Spencer having figured him out. Jon probably won't make any sound at all, so he makes sure he keeps one eye a little open, so that he will catch Jon looking.

Funny. It's been at least ten minutes now, and still no Jon. How peculiar. Jon knows that baths don't take very long, so he should seize the opportunity, right? He should be downstairs, checking him out, hopefully sporting a rock hard erection at the mere sight of Spencer. But Jon doesn't seem to have come down yet.

Spencer sighs restlessly and shifts in the water. He pulls his hand back from his erection, letting his hands rest on the sides of the tub. The water isn't warm anymore, it's more lukewarm. His fingertips are getting kind of wrinkly. Goddammit, what's taking Jon so long?

Eventually, all thoughts of sex vanish from his head. He isn't feeling particularly hot anymore, except for the anger burning his guts. The water turns cold, but he remains staring at the door of the now steam-free bathroom. So much for that fantasy. He can only hear the sound of his teeth chattering and his nails scratching the sides of the tub.

For fuck's sake, this is pathetic. This entire thing is pathetic. He swears he isn't crazy – Jon did watch him, and Jon does things for Spencer that he doesn't do for anyone else. And now that Spencer is offering himself, Jon rejects him, ignoring him like he's not interested. Talk about mixed fucking signals. Well, Spencer won't stand for it. He is a sensible person, a rational humanbeing, and he can't understand why he's ended up in a tub of cold water, hoping for some random guy he barely knows to come in and fuck him.

"Fuck this shit," Spencer grits out, stepping out of the tub and wrapping the towel around his waist.

His body is cold, but he doesn't notice as his stomach drips bitter acid, scorching his insides. He marches upstairs, taking hard and loud steps to make a point, and when he reaches Jon's closed door, he doesn't hesitate for a second before storming inside.

Jon, who is still on the bed, just relaxing like he was when Spencer let him know that he was going to take a bath, looks up. Monster's not there anymore, so Jon clearly has no excuse for standing him up.

"Do you think this is funny?" Spencer spits at him angrily. "Do you?! I mean, what the fuck is your problem?" Jon opens his mouth slightly, but for the first time ever Spencer doesn't wish that Jon talked more. Right now, he doesn't want him to speak at all. "No, you shut your mouth! First you want me and now you give me the cold shoulder, like you don't care, like I'm suddenly repulsive? I'm damn attractive and you fucking know it! I don't need to seduce people! I don't need to be humiliated or ignored by the likes of you! I am way past that! You want me to beg, is that it?" He lets out a harsh, short laugh while Jon remains impassive. "Well, I'm not going to beg you to fuck me, you asshole!"

Silence. Jon stares at him intensely, but still unaffected by Spencer's words. Spencer's chest rises and falls fast, and for a moment he thinks that he might have upset Jon and that Jon wants to shoot his brains out for ranting. At this point, he doesn't care. He has moved beyond this pathetic little incident.

"Are you done?" Jon asks.

Spencer snorts. "I'm done with you. You had your chance and you fucking missed it."

He turns around to leave, not able to stand Jon's stupid blank face for another second, to go and clear his head and regain his composure and hope to god Ryan never hears about this. There's desperate to get laid and then there's desperate to get laid. God, he's made an idiot of himself. But when his hand lands on the door handle, he gets spun around. His back slams against the door painfully. Jon is right in front of him, holding him by his arms. There are just a few inches between his face and Jon's.

He stares back defiantly, still angry, challenging Jon's gaze with his own. Jon's hands squeeze his arms harder, but he stands his ground. "You gonna stare me to death?"

Jon studies his face and licks his lips in a highly distracting way. "Shut up."

Jon rips the towel off his waist. Spencer's breath gets stuck in his throat. His insides swirl with a burning heat, trying to catch up with Jon, who is now clearly on the same page as him. At this point, he'll let Jon do whatever he wants. Their mouths press together and Jon instantly coaxes his open, using brutal force, and then their tongues meet.

Jon's hands are on him, one fisting his hair, the other holding the back of his neck, bringing him closer. Jon devours his mouth, and Spencer starts pulling at Jon's shirt, needing him naked right now.

Jon doesn't get the hint though, because he keeps kissing him, holding him still instead of taking off his shirt like Spencer wants him to. It's not that he objects to the starving kisses, he hasn't felt this wanted in a long time. He still pushes Jon away for a second, and Jon's instant reaction is to try to attach their mouths together again.

"Shirt off," he gasps, not even caring how desperate he sounds.

Jon takes off his shirt in record time, revealing his perfect torso as he discards the garment. Spencer can't believe he is doing this with someone as hot as Jon. Jon pulls him in his arms again as Spencer stares with lust clouding his mind. He's so fucking hard by now that it practically hurts. Jon kisses him again, dominant and overwhelming, and Spencer moans, feeling Jon's warm skin over his. He wraps his arms around Jon's neck, needing as much skin contact as he can get.

They shove and push each other, staggering around the room and slamming into walls until they reach the desk. Spencer hits his ass to the edge of it, but his brain doesn't feel any pain.

Jon pushes him back until he's sitting on the desk, and Spencer wraps his legs around Jon's waist, bringing him closer.

"Oh, fuck," he groans as Jon stands between his legs, Jon's crotch pressing against his hard cock. "Jon, please –"

Jon pushes Spencer down against the table, hovering over him. Jon's mouth attacks his body, biting at his torso and moving all the way up to his neck, and when Jon gets there, he sucks on the skin, driving him insane. He's so hard that he could come right now. Jon bites at his jaw roughly. God, it's like Jon is trying to eat him up, taste every part of him. He arches his back against Jon's body, digging his nails into Jon's back.

Jon's movements are rushed, which is exactly what Spencer needs. Jon's hands feel bigger and rougher now that they are actually on him, shamelessly exploring and taking what they want, and Jon's mouth seems to be everywhere, the bites aggressive and perfect. When Jon's lips find his, he kisses back desperately, his hips moving on their own accord against the pressure of Jon between his legs.

Jon breaks the dirty kiss, a strand of saliva between their mouths. Jon's hands fly between them and go for the jeans Jon has on, the top button popping open and the zipper sliding down. Jon's jeans drop down from there, which is hardly a surprise as being on the run has had them all lose some weight. However, their restricted diet has clearly not affected the size of some things like, for instance, Jon's fucking cock.

Spencer's eyes fix on the other man's flushed erection, which now brushes against his balls as Jon moves back in. Jon's bigger than he thought, and he thought about it plenty. It's going to hurt. Oh god, he hopes it hurts, that he can feel everything, that Jon fucks him until he's begging for him to stop, and then Jon just fucks him some more.

His mouth already feels sore, but he couldn't care less as Jon leans down to capture his lips. He reaches between them to touch Jon's cock, to feel it in his hand. Jon lets out a grunt when his thumb swipes over the slit of Jon's cock, and god, Jon's got girth. He tries to hold both of their cocks with his one hand, but he'd need his other one to accomplish the task. Currently, however, the hand not sizing Jon up is preoccupied clawing at Jon's back.

When they pull back for air, Jon steps back much to his dismay. Before Spencer can protest, Jon takes a hold of his knees and pulls him. He just manages to land on his feet, completely breathless, but Jon simply places hands on his shoulders and pushes him down until he's on his knees. It happens too fast for him to stop his legs from painfully making impact with the floorboards. He doesn't care.

Jon's got a hand in his hair, fingers running down across his cheek to his jaw. Jon takes a hold of his chin and forces his mouth open, and Spencer can't even catch his breath before Jon's cock is on his lips, Jon guiding it into his mouth. He groans at the salty taste of pre-come on his tongue, but Jon pushes further without waiting for any kind of permission, causing him to almost choke. Jon clearly has no interest in his comfort. Spencer thinks it's fucking sexy.

Jon grabs a hold of his hair and pulls him closer, cock sliding further into Spencer's mouth. Spencer breathes through his nose, forcing down a gag when Jon hits his throat. He can smell and taste Jon, the weight of Jon's dick heavy on his tongue. His hands settle on Jon's hips as he lets Jon determine a rhythm of fucking his mouth.

"Come on, I need to be wetter than that," Jon rasps from above him, and Spencer moans with Jon's cock in his mouth so hard he feels like he might come from this alone. He does his best, letting his tongue run along the underside of Jon's cock, feeling the thick vein pulsating as his tongue runs over it. When Jon loosens the tight hold of his hair, Spencer ignores how his scalp hurts and instead allows himself to pull back and use his mouth to coat Jon's cock in messy saliva the best he can.

Spencer can feel his heart hammering wildly, like he could have a heart attack right now from sucking Jon's cock alone. He's always thought that the ideal way to die would be in a motorcycling accident, dead before he realizes it, happy to be riding his bike, but right now he wouldn't mind at all if he died from this, with Jon's hard and perfect dick in his mouth.

Jon fists his hair, pulling him away from his cock. Spencer sucks in air instinctively, letting out a frustrated groan. Jon grabs him by his arms, pulling him up to his feet. Spencer wants to kiss Jon, but Jon pushes him down against the table harshly, leaning over him and roughly pulling his legs apart. Spencer blinks at the ceiling, trying to calm down or catch up but he can't. Jon stands between his parted thighs, Jon's cock brushing against his ass.

He desperately bucks up, trying to get more contact with Jon's cock, but Jon keeps him still by leaning over him further, overpowering him easily. Jon grabs the back of his neck, pulling him in for a dirty kiss. Jon's teeth graze his lower lip painfully before he pulls back, replacing his mouth with thick fingers. Spencer feels like he hasn't gotten enough air, his head swimming, but he sucks on the fingers, anyway.

"More," Jon commands, and he tries to do his best. He sucks on the two fingers greedily, and he swears he can almost hear the slurps. He realizes how obscene he sounds, how desperate.

Jon seems to decide it's enough as he pulls his hand back and, in the following second, Spencer feels Jon's fingers probing at his entrance. He groans in anticipation, spreading his legs the little further that he can as he clutches to the edges of the table. He's too aroused to think, and Jon is still on him, pressed against him, hot breath against his neck.

"Fuck," Spencer grits out as Jon pushes a finger into him, aided more by force than Spencer's spit. Spencer can feel how tight he is, barely able to stand it himself.

He senses the older man's concentration from the way that Jon holds the back of his neck tightly, breaths stopping momentarily. Jon is almost careful as he pushes his finger further inside. Fuck, it's just one finger but it feels huge. He shivers thinking about Jon's cock. Considering how much one finger is filling him up now, Jon's cock is going to make him pass out.

"You're tight," Jon grunts.

"It's been a while," Spencer chokes just as Jon twists the digit in him.

"I know."

"How do you – Fuck," he grits out as Jon's finger twists again.

Jon uses the hand on the back of Spencer's neck to pull him up, and Spencer follows breathlessly. His other hand grips Jon's shoulder while the other presses against Jon's tattooed chest, his legs wrapping around the older man. Jon's hand is working between his legs, the finger sliding in and out of him as Jon holds his chin up with his other hand and sucks on his earlobe hungrily, pulling at the lobe with his teeth.

"Jon," he pants unevenly, letting his forehead press against Jon's shoulder. He feels so desperate for more, even if he's not used to even the one finger yet. Jon is sucking on his ear and then moves on to his jaw and neck, making him lose control further. Just as Spencer thinks he's getting used to the stimulation, Jon pushes in a second finger. "Holy shi –"

Jon silences him, attaching their mouths together. Their tongues battle, and Spencer moves his ass against Jon's hand, needing the fingers in deeper. As full as he feels, he constantly feels emptier, like Jon's fingers aren't enough. He needs more, he has to get more, and Jon provides it as a third finger pushes into him. He bites on Jon's shoulder to muffle his moan.

"You're ready," Jon says, clearly deciding it for him, but he is. God, he is.

Jon's fingers slip out of him, and he feels the stretch now, the way it stings. He doesn't have time to register more than that, however, as Jon pulls him to stand and twists him around, guiding him to the wall. He braces it automatically, his body thrumming in anticipation as his head hangs between his arms, and he sees his own feet, sees his cock flushed and leaking. He hears Jon spitting on his hand, fingers brushing against him where he's wet and stretched and waiting, and then Jon spits again, unceremoniously, but he doesn't touch Spencer, and he realizes that Jon is getting his cock wet.

He bites on his lip to keep quiet when he feels the pressure of Jon's cock against his hole. So much more than three fingers. Jon takes a bruising hold of his hips and pushes inside, not slowly, not gradually, but forcefully and without stopping.

If there was some small chance that the entire house hasn't heard them yet, it's gone for good now. Swear words pour from his lips, and god, he was right, it hurts, burns and stings, but he has never been as turned on in his life. Jon's deep inside him, hot and hard. He hasn't gotten fucked in months and he'd forgotten how amazing this could feel. And Jon does. God, he feels incredible.

Jon's lips are on his shoulder, ragged breathing washing over his skin. Jon grips his hips with rough hands, pulling out almost all the way before slamming in again.

"Fuck," Spencer cries out, his entire body on fire.

As Spencer's way out of practice, Jon feels like too much to take. Jon's not the biggest cock he's ever had, but he's definitely big enough for him to feel Jon all over his body. Jon starts fucking him in firm and deep thrusts. God, they're so, so deep that with every thrust, he has a feeling Jon is deeper in him than anyone before.

The pace and force is a perfect combination that is making him go insane. He grunts every time Jon buries himself to the hilt, forbidding himself to plead for Jon to go faster because if he is fucking him this hard with such a controlled pace, he doesn't want to know how it's going to be if Jon fucks him fast. And God, Spencer wants it fast and rough, but he knows he can't take it yet.

Jon runs a hand over his sweaty back, and he feels breathless at the contact, loving the way Jon touches him. Jon seems to notice this since he starts running a hand all over his body while with the other he grips onto Spencer's hip as Jon's cock slides in and out of him. Jon's hand runs all over his back, neck and torso, sometimes scratching him and sometimes just touching him, and Spencer can't stop moaning for a second. He grunts loudly, cock twitching, as Jon takes one of his nipples between his fingers, squeezing it hard, killing every brain cell inside his head.

Jon's thrusts are steadily faster, leaving him gasping for air and seeing stars. He is forcing himself to take it, though he knows he'll be paying for it later. Jon's hand travels down to his lower stomach, dangerously close to his cock.

"Don't," Spencer breathes out when he feels the tips of Jon's fingers brush his pubic hair.

Jon's hips come to a stop, heavy breathing washing over the nape of his neck. "What?"

"Don't touch my cock or I'll come," he groans, face feeling hot as he admits it. "I don't want this to be over yet."

God, he sounds really pathetic. He's terrified that Jon is realizing that he can't fuck such a loser, but instead Jon's hand moves back up all the way to his neck, and Jon takes a hold of his chin, forcing him to crane his neck and meet Jon's gaze. "This won't be over soon, trust me," Jon says. His voice is low and full of lust, dirty and dark.

Jon pulls out abruptly, causing him to hiss from the sudden throb of pain. Jon's hands are on him again, turning him around like a marionette. He ends up on his back on the bed, slamming onto the mattress so hard that dust rises from it. Jon gets on the bed, staring at him with fiery eyes. Spencer swallows hard.

Jon takes his legs, bending them over his stomach. God, Spencer feels exposed, but he doesn't care, he needs –

Jon aligns his cock with Spencer's hole and pushes back in, brutally slamming in all the way. Spencer cries out, and if he thought Jon was deep before, he was wrong. He can feel drops of sweat running down his neck, his nails scratching the mattress beneath him. Jon fists his hair painfully, but it only makes the pleasure that much more intense.

"Please," he manages, groaning. "Please, harder." His voice is quiet – he feels too weak to use his voice fully.

He hears the sound of Jon's hips slamming against his ass, making him fall into an elated trance. His body feels weak, like it's not able to stand the ecstasy he's feeling, and he knows that the only reason he hasn't passed out yet is because this is too good to miss out on.

Spencer is taller than Jon and he's also physically bigger, but right now he feels small. He's giving himself up to Jon completely, and while he can ask Jon to go slower or harder, he knows that Jon probably isn't taking requests here.

Jon moves one of Spencer's legs over his shoulder, the other pressing to Jon's side, and Jon hovers above him, pushing into him more forcefully. "Shit," he gasps, gripping the headboard to hold onto something. He can see the muscles of Jon's stomach quivering as Jon's hips snap repeatedly between his parted legs.

Every time Jon buries his cock into Spencer's ass, he drags Spencer's body over the mattress until Spencer's head is hitting the headboard, which in turn is hitting against the wall. Spencer holds onto the sides of the headboard, pushing himself back against Jon. He moans until his throat is dry and sore, but it doesn't keep him from groaning as waves of pleasure hit him, which happens constantly and with increasing intensity.

Just when Spencer thinks that getting screwed by Jon couldn't get any better, Jon's cock hits his prostate so hard that all he can see is white as his brain blacks out completely, his body trembling.

"Fuck, yes, oh god," he slurs, grabbing Jon's arms and digging his nails into the skin. Jon seems to realize that the angle is perfect because he slams his cock in mercilessly and even harder, keeping the same angle.

Spencer feels dizzy, too dizzy , and he hasn't even come yet. He's sure he's going to die when he comes but he couldn't care less. Maybe this isn't even real. Maybe Jon shot him when he started yelling and he's dead now, having gone to that heaven Brendon's always on about. Fuck, Spencer is completely okay with that. Brendon said it's the place of perfect happiness and bliss, and Spencer is certainly experiencing both of those right now.

The air in the room is dense and hot, a strong mix of dust, sweat and sex all together. The violence of Jon's thrusts makes the bed move back and forth, the bed legs grinding against the wooden floor; Spencer's ears hurt from the screeching noise, the squeaking of the bed frame and his own loud moans.

Jon takes Spencer's leg off his shoulder; Spencer can feel how weak his muscles are, how overwhelmed he is. Jon presses himself against Spencer, and Spencer is already going insane as he feels the weight of Jon's body on him. Their mouths meet in a reckless kiss. Jon's cock is still in his ass, but Jon isn't moving as he's focused on kissing, and Spencer can't take being teased like this. He presses his ankle to the small of Jon's back, trying to shift his own hips to give Jon the message.

Jon thrusts in hard, cock brushing against his prostate again. Spencer arches his back in bliss, breaking the kiss as he jerks. Jon grabs him by his hair, forcing Spencer's face back to his and reattaching their lips. Spencer practically whines against Jon's mouth, his blood boiling as he violently scratches Jon's back.

"Jon, come on," he begs when Jon pulls back for air, and Jon's eyes are so dark they're nearly black, pouring into him. Spencer feels his guts twist.

Jon lifts himself up, grabbing Spencer's hips and pulling them off the mattress. He begins to pound into him again, and Spencer bites on his lip to keep quiet. It doesn't work. He lets himself swear and curse, filling the room with groans of, "Oh god, yes, right there- Fuck, fuck," as the bed moves beneath them. Jon isn't giving him a chance to think or to form proper sentences as he repeatedly slides into him, filling him up and making pleasure wash over his body, pulling back and letting him feel the drag of Jon's thick cock in him, and then Jon does it all over again.

Spencer's holding onto the headboard to keep his hands occupied and to keep them somewhat still. He fails to realize how much the bed is moving until it's too late – there's a loud crash as the mattress they're on is suddenly tilting towards the center of the room. Jon doesn't seem to care, just keeps fucking him, and Spencer decides that one broken bed leg one way or another is totally worth this.

Then the headboard he's holding feels oddly loose, and then the entire mattress drops down in a loud bang.

"Fuck," he swears, but Jon still hasn't stopped fucking him.

"Useless bed," Jon grunts, and then he's pulled out of him, grabbing his hips and just dragging him off the bed and onto the hard floor. "Turn around," Jon orders, and Spencer's head is swimming. He can't even process Jon's words, but Jon guides him, and he ends up on his hands and knees. Jon takes a hold of his hips again, pulling him closer, and then Jon is back inside him, deep and hot.

Spencer sees fucking stars in his head. He's never been fond of getting fucked from behind because during his life in gangs, he has learned not to trust anyone. Gangs are about hierarchical loyalty towards leaders and the pecking order that starts from there, but there are also a lot of crazy fuckers who drink too much and take too many drugs, and you never know when they are going to just snap. Spencer doesn't like not being able to see what's going on even when he's having sex, just in case someone takes advantage of him when he's in a vulnerable position like that.

Yet he's convinced that nothing on earth can feel better than Jon fucking him like this. Everything that Jon is doing is driving him insane: from the possessive way that Jon is holding him by his hips to the way that he's now fucking him, going in so fucking deep and hitting his prostate so hard that Spencer can't have a single moment of sanity because when Jon is pulling out to give him a chance to breathe, Jon is already pushing back in, reducing him to a mess of groans.

God, he needs to get fucked more often and he needs to get fucked from behind more often too, by Jon, just by him. Jon is a fucking psycho that could take a knife out of nowhere and slice Spencer's throat open just because, not needing alcohol or drugs to cloud his judgment, but Jon still fucks him so fucking well that Spencer is willing to take the chance and risk dying fucking ecstatic.

His cock is throbbing and so hard that it's nearly painful, and Spencer realizes that he hasn't touched himself since they started. He didn't want Jon to touch him but that was before, and he's already lasted longer than he thought he could. It's difficult to stay still on his hands and knees because the force of Jon's thrusts is so overpowering that Jon is pushing him back and forth. When he tries to touch himself because he has to, god he fucking has to, he nearly loses his balance and quickly puts his hand back against the floor, fingertips sore from trying to press against the wood.

"Jon, touch me," he groans desperately. Jon instantly complies, reaching to take a firm hold of his erection with a rough hand. "Oh fucking god!" Spencer blurts out, hands curling into fists.

He doesn't want to come. Not yet, not when he's being fucked by the best cock he's ever had, when he's being jerked off like this, like Jon knows exactly how he likes it. Spencer needs to enjoy this for a while longer so he fights back his orgasm. It seems impossible because the climax has been there, waiting to explode for days, but he tries anyway. Every second that Spencer can delay coming will be a great second of pure bliss.

He pants more heavily and moans louder as he feels his orgasm getting closer and closer. "Jon, oh fuck, you –"

Jon's fist squeezes around his cock on the upstroke, thumb brushing over his leaking slit, thick cock pushing inside him, and he comes hard, feeling like he's about to pass out though he can't even register what's happening. He feels dizzy as his orgasm washes over him; his body shakes and his arms go weak, causing him to nearly collapse on the floor. He props himself on his elbows, groaning as Jon keeps fisting him, milking the orgasm out of him, and he rests his arms against the floor to steady himself because Jon hasn't stopped fucking him. In fact, Jon is fucking him even harder as he's coming.

His eyes can't focus on anything, and he swears this is the longest orgasm of his life, his come splashing against the floor beneath him, his body giving violent spasms and his muscles constricting, and the ring of his ass clenches hard, only increasing the feeling of Jon's cock in him, brushing against his oversensitive prostate.

He isn't aware of it being over. All he can focus on is the pleasure, how it takes over all of his senses, leaving him weak and blown away. When he starts to catch up with what's going on, Jon is still fucking him. He's amazed. Jon's like a machine.

"Fuck," he swears weakly, trying not to collapse on the floor, but his knees seemed to be giving in.

Jon, to his surprise, pulls out of him, leaving him empty. "Come here," Jon says, taking a hold of his shoulder and pulling, and he ends up pushed against the mattress in the middle of the broken bed, on his back and blinking at the ceiling.

Jon hauls one leg over the shoulder and pushes back into him, staring between them where they are joined. Spencer groans because he feels sensitive and sore now, but Jon hasn't gotten off yet. He tries to catch his breath as Jon thrusts into him, and Jon is groaning now, swearing and pulling Spencer closer. Spencer feels like he's waking up from a dream, like Jon is an amazing, godlike being, and he can barely stand how good Jon's cock still feels in him. He'd get hard again if he could.

"Fuck," Jon grunts, suddenly pulling out of him and grabbing his cock, and Spencer watches, mesmerized, as Jon jerks himself off, the tip of his cock leaking pre-come. Jon bites on his lip, one hand bruising Spencer's hip, and then Jon's coming, hot streaks of come landing on Spencer's stomach. Jon didn't ask if he could come on Spencer, but for some reason Spencer's never felt as hot in his life. He feels the substance rolling down his skin, white and messy.

Jon lets go of his cock, looking spent. He crashes on the mattress next to Spencer, trying to catch his breath. It's the first quiet moment since they started.

Spencer still can't formulate sentences or thoughts so instead he lets his fingers glide over Jon's semen on him. He just got laid. Jon fucked him. It was amazing. That's as far as his thoughts can go.

"I shouldn't have bothered bathing," he says eventually, feeling high from his orgasm and trying hard not to laugh.

"Yeah," Jon agrees, his breathing having regulated. "I can go again in ten minutes."

Fuck. Jon is a machine.

"Okay," he agrees, licking his lips. He doesn't care how fucking sore he is – he can totally do another round. "You owe me, anyway."

Jon moves to lie on his side, propping himself on an elbow. Jon looks amazing post-sex, hair messy, lips swollen, skin slightly sweaty. Spencer resists the urge to trace the lines of Jon's tattoos with his finger.

"I owe you?" Jon asks.

"...Yes? Did you not notice me trying to practically seduce you all day? You fucking made me work for it," he says only a bit bitterly. It's not like he can be mad now, but still, Jon clearly wanted to fuck him as much as he wanted Jon.

To his surprise, Jon breaks into a rather smug grin. He's never seen Jon grinning before or, well, showing that much emotion at all, but he likes it. Jon should grin more. It looks even better on him than the post-coital glow.

"Asshole," he notes, not meaning it, and Jon captures his lips in a dirty and hungry kiss.