Flipping Coins

Brendon letup on his mighty clasping of the passenger seat--his right hand slithering down like a lethal snake sneaking across my body--its destination unknown. I had barely noticed the prowling hand due to my undivided attention on Brendon’s cushioned lips pushing themselves urgently against my own. It wasn’t until I felt the balmy touch of Brendon’s skin against my knee that I took any notice of what he was about to do.

“Brendon,” I choked out, managing to detach myself from his fervent lips momentarily.

With his eyes remaining closed, Brendon kissed the bridge of my nose sweetly. “Yes?”

“Are we--can I--should--here?” I at last sputtered out questioningly, staring into Brendon’s shielding eyelids with a dire want of understanding.

I meant to say that this was wrong. I meant to say that I should be getting home. I meant to point out that he had alcohol running in his system that may or may not be twisting his judgment into a faulty mess. But that’s what came out--the betraying one-syllable word that further sealed my agreement to the deceiving, wrongful act that was to follow.

I felt his extensive eyelashes brush against my blazing cheeks as his dark eyes opened to find my own fearful orbs beaming with desperation. He leaned closer to my face--far enough so that when he spoke, his lips teasingly swept against my ajar mouth.

“Wherever you want,” Brendon murmured temptingly. He was trying to be seductive--romantic, if you will--and I couldn’t deny that he was doing a damn good job at it.

He must have read something in my eyes--knowing my answer even without the verbalization--and he cocked a grin, moving his warm hands to the backs of my thighs. Without a word, Brendon lifted me up, shifting my weight to the comfort of his arms, and he kicked open the car door, into the brisk light shower of rain.

He held me as though I were his five year-old niece tired of walking, carrying me all the way inside the building until we were within the metallic surrounding of the elevator that climbed to Brendon’s floor.

The whole wait there, he stared at me--so many feelings held captive there in those big brown globes I’d grown to adore. Some of these emotions were easy to read--eagerness, hesitancy, elatedness, fear, indecision. Some were sentiments I wish were impossible to interpret--yearning, passion, aspiration. And others were just plain unreadable.

I had come to terms with the fact that I was as easy to read as an open book, and when he watched me like he was watching me right then, I knew that he was peering into a wide, blue world of the whole lot of emotions I was feeling. Maybe there was more to read than feelings--maybe he could read my thoughts by just simply glancing into my eyes.

“What are you thinking?”

The words had fallen so softly and quick from Brendon’s lips that I had to replay the moment a few times just to register that he had asked the question.

When a few silent seconds passed, Brendon set me on my own feet, unwrapping his arms from my waist, and continued in my failure to respond, “I mean, it just seems like you want me to kiss you and touch you, but in your eyes, there’s just so much to take in that it’s hard to tell if that’s really what you want.”

Did I call it, or did I call it?

I bit my lip--because that’s just what every girl does in these kinds of moments--and before I could pour out my feelings that would have ended this in an instant, a resounding, cheerful ding! announced that our stop had arrived.

A million thoughts were processing in my mind per millisecond, and the pressure of knowing that the elevator doors were due to close any minute added more to the already heavy weight upon my shoulders, and then there was Brendon’s intense, patient stare glinting into my very soul, and all this passion was bubbling up like a freshly opened champagne bottle inside of me and--god--I was staring at Brendon’s lips again, and then it hit me like an extreme gust of wind….

I was totally, indisputably, permanently in love with Brendon Urie.

And that’s when I reached out and grasped the collar of Brendon’s soaked, thin t-shirt, pulling him in towards me so that I could crash my lips against his desperately--just as desperately as I needed him because I just needed him so goddamn badly. Brendon wasn’t ready and apparently wanted a real answer, and he tried to pull away, but I used all of my strength and forced his head to remain planted inbetween my hands, not allowing him to pull away to demand an answer.

This was my answer, I thought as I hummed contentment into Brendon’s throat, this kiss is my answer. It means I love you, Brendon. It means I’m ready for any consequences as long as you’re mine tonight.

Brendon must have been telepathic. He at last stopped fighting me and made some slurred sound as he held my waist once more, towing me blindly down the hall. The elevator doors heaved shut behind us, and after a few stumbled steps, we passed the exit door leading to the flight of stairs. I passed them knowingly--subconsciously reminding myself that there was still a chance to stop this from happening.

But I had already made up my mind.

A few minutes or so later, Brendon smiled into another one of our mixed up kisses, barely audibly chuckling to himself.

“What?” I whispered, not bothering to open my eyes.

“We passed my apartment,” Brendon laughed softly, sweeping his hand along my bangs affectionately.

I broke our kiss short and stepped back from him before turning around to observe that we had, indeed, passed his apartment. We were two doors down from our prime target.

Brendon laughed again for good measure before he hooked his hand on my lower arm and tugged me after him as he trotted purposefully back to his front door. Ten paces later, Brendon released my arm to dig inside his jean’s pockets--jinglingly out a set of gold and silver keys moments later.

While he unlocked his door, I accidentally slipped into a moment.

I stared at that damn front door of his with unwavering eyesight--not bothering to blink even once. That smooth, cream, unblemished piece of wood mocked me for the second time in my life. It was the last barrier, the last reminder, the last chance I had to run away and forget that Brendon’s lips had been attached to mine this rainy, sinful night in Vegas--our hometown.

The brass doorknocker seemed to scream out the words: You don’t have to do this.

Lost in my unbalanced thoughts, I hadn’t noticed that Brendon had successfully unlocked the door moments before and was now staring at me staring at his front door staring back at me in an immobile blockade of wisdom. A blockade of wisdom that my mind had thought up as though I were lost in some fairytale where furniture actually had mouths and voices. Did they sell pills for this stuff?

The only thing that had knocked me out of my daydream was when Brendon’s lanky arms snaked around me to hug my waist to his intimately. He tilted his head, his forehead resting against mine, and our noses brushed against each other in the most spine-tingling manner. Brendon’s sinister eyes locked on mine, and he gazed at me with enchantment capturing every square inch of his facial expression.

“You are so beautiful,” Brendon whispered gently, the left side of his mouth lifting faintly in a shy smile.

I smiled shyly back, fighting the bloom that was rising to my cheeks, and looked down to avoid his eyes. We were no longer level now that I was cowardly peering down at my dirty toes, and now my forehead was resting on the curve of his cute nose and his lips were unintentionally in contact with the edge of my own narrow snout.

I could hear and feel Brendon’s lips grow into a warmer smile from my reaction, and he embraced me to his frame tighter, as though he refused to let me go. It gave me a sense of security, and, for some reason, made my vertebra tingle.

Then his smile vanished, and he released one of his gripping arms from my hips to place his hand underneath my chin, lifting my face so that I was forced to peer back into his serious, determined expression.

And then he leaned his neck forward and I felt his lips press kindly against mine. I felt like I wasn’t giving a good enough response to such an affectionate action, so I took things the next step up.

Brendon gasped out of surprise. “What are you doing?” he panted, breaking from my lips to stare at me with wide, shocked eyes.

I didn’t respond but merely stared at him as I fluttered my fingers. He immediately groaned, eyes clenching shut and head nodding back to rest against the halfway open front door. I swept my thumb in an up-and-down movement and watched as Brendon groaned again and his Adam’s apple bobbed with a heavy gulp.

Before my fingers could make another move, Brendon’s eyes popped open and a sudden sense of urgency swept the air around him. He pulled my arm out of his boxer’s waistline and kissed me hungrily, securing one arm around my waist again and the other blindly slapping the front door back.

As he kissed me, Brendon smoothly urged us forward into his darkened apartment, and when we were inside, he kicked the door shut behind him.

There were a number of couches and recliners resting in the living room only a number of yards away, and his bedroom resided right down the hall--in which an exceedingly comfortable queen-sized bed filled with silken sheets and a feathered comforter awaited to be torn off. But Brendon didn’t seem to care about any of that, and he gradually and carefully lowered me down to the hardwood floor--right in front of his front door. Maybe my teasing had made him realize he couldn’t wait another second.

Brendon carefully held himself up on top of me, planting his hands onto the floor on either side of me so that no weight would crush my fragile bones. He continued to snap his full lips against mine until I think his patience had gotten the best of him.

His warm hands had found my lower body once more, but this time no doubts were swimming through my mind…at least not as many of them, anyways. I allowed him to pull my dress up so he could pull my undergarment down, and I even urged him to go faster inbetween unfocused kisses.

Once that chore was done, I instantly found his pant’s button and pried the jeans off. When my fingers entangled themselves onto his boxer’s waistline, however, Brendon’s hands found my own, cupping them, and I looked up into his eyes questioningly.

He was biting his prominent lips, staring at me with, yet again, an unreadable expression.

“Come on,” I whined quietly. “Do you want me to beg or something?”

Brendon grinned and shook his head, humor glowing in his eyes. “I’m already turned on. I wouldn’t ask you to plead.” He paused for a moment before his smile grew in volume. “Unless...you want to, of course. Then who am I to stop you?”

I dug my nails into the skin above his waistline and he laughed. “Okay! Okay!” And with that, he helped me cast aside his boxers into the discarded pile of clothes we had built up next to us.

Brendon didn’t bother to take off my dress or his soggy shirt, either. Instead, he took a long, deep inhale and exhale, stared intensely at me for a moment, and then he lowered himself into me.

We both gasped, and Brendon’s choked moan overpowered mine tenfold. I sunk my fingernails into the flawless flesh of Brendon’s back, not knowing what else to do to release all this adrenaline churning around inside of me. Brendon’s bottom jaw seemed unhinged, and his full lips formed an uneven oval as his big brown eyes popped from their sockets.

And then things seemed to get blurry, they felt so good. All I could focus on was Brendon’s thumb running over my slightly open lips and Brendon’s hand sweeping over my naval and Brendon’s bare legs rubbing with heavy friction against my own smooth legs and Brendon’s soft smile light upon his face with his eyes closed and Brendon’s manhood pulsating inside of me and Brendon’s name slurring from my mouth and my name being moaned from Brendon’s throat and how everything went black and--the next moment--Brendon was pouring with sweat, panting as heavy as a furry dog on a summer day, and laying on top of my chest tiredly.

“Fuck…I missed…that,” Brendon gasped, laughing without breath at the end.

I laughed along wearily in agreement and then tried to let my breath rate settle back to normality, simply twisting Brendon’s mused threads of hair inbetween my fingers while we both strained for air.

When we had gained enough oxygen so that we were no longer huffing and wheezing all over the place, Brendon sat up, propping his elbows against the wood floor surrounding us, and stared at me with all these emotions overpowering his face. So many emotions, in fact, that it was hard to look at him without wincing.

It wasn’t that he wasn’t as breath-takingly, unbelievably, undeniably beautiful as a fucking God walking the earth--it was just that I knew what we had just done was wrong. So wrong. And the fact that he was so happy and glowing about what had just happened made me feel even guiltier. I shouldn’t be making him happy. I should be making Jordan happy and leaving Brendon’s feelings for Evelia to deal with. And besides, Brendon had consumed alcohol before this. Who’s to say it wasn’t the beer that had made Brendon do what he just did? So many factors made the wrongness of tonight reach a level of immoral that I had never dreamed I would reach.

“What are you thinking about?” Brendon asked softly for the second time that night.

I blinked to see that Brendon was gazing into my eyes again, hypnotizing me without realizing it.

“I’m thinking about how things are going to be tomorrow,” I answered automatically without thinking about what I was saying. There you go. The most cliché line in this godforsaken tale in its entirety.

Brendon’s sparkling eyes were instantly swallowed by bleak darkness after my confession, and he leaned forward to peck me in the lips softly, kissing me without closing his eyes so that he was gazing at me lovingly the whole time our lips were attached.

“Don’t,” Brendon breathed, “Don’t think about that. Just be here. With me.”

And I found that this command was rather easy to follow, and I nodded and closed my eyes as Brendon moved down to graze his lips along my throat tenderly.

Quite without warning, Brendon jumped up, me in his arms, and continued to kiss me as he carried me down the hallway--to his bedroom.

And then it occurred to me that Brendon wasn’t finished. And neither was I.

And I didn’t think about tomorrow for the rest of that whole wonderful, miracle of a night. I just thought about living in the moment.

After all, that’s what life’s about, right?