Brendon Urie: Imagines and ficlets

Wanna play doctor? (1/2)

"Ow, fuck. Fuck."

You sleepily open your eyes after the harsh whisper. "You OK, B?"

"Just stubbed my toe, y/n, go back to sleep."

You turn the lamp on. "You could've put the light on, so you can see."

"Didn't want to wake you. Well, I tried," he giggles, cradling his foot on his bed, pouting.

"Awww, B, want me to kiss your boo boo better?" you tease, breath catching when you realize what he's wearing.

He's not a modest boy in the nudity department, so he's in nothing but a towel. A towel so small it's not tied around him still, but has fallen apart, revealing the side of his hip, thigh... He falls back, belly moving, muscles too, grinning back with a "Yes. I'm horribly wounded, Nurse Y/n."

"That's Dr Y/n to you, idgit." You throw a pillow at him. "And you're a terrible patient."

He fluffs it out, puts it under his head. "That's Wonderful Nurse Brendon to you, Mean Dr Y/n." He rolls over, giggly, face lit up, revealing—your eyes meet his studiously. Fuck, they're so soft and warm and dark... "Hey, wanna play doctor?" He's saying it lightly, like the goober he is, but... Fuck.

"What happened to your terrible debilitating injury, B?"

"I think I need a thorough examination. And said kissing it better."

"Poor pup." You get up, pet his wet hair as he looks up at you all smiley and soft. "Sore toe, huh?" You smooch his forehead.

"It hurts."

"Drama queen," you joke softly. Pouty pup. Pouty practically naked pup. You sit on the bed, lift his furry lower leg, and give his toes a light smooch. "Only because you just showered." Then give them three more. "Seriously though, glad you're like this. You don't hide stuff like that from me." Gaze flickering over him, shaggy tuggable hair to his weird (toes are pretty odd in general) but totally kissable toesies. You brush lightly over his leg hair, tickle behind his knee. Tempted to tickle the sparse trails of hair between his breasts and on his lower belly. "Hope it feels better." So you better, uh... because his movements from the tickling have moved the towel, and oh... he seems half hard.

Time for a shower. A cold one.

You run off with a "Put some ice on it, pup!" You don't go for a cold shower though; what are you, dumb? It's cold outside.

Your thoughts wander with a laughing thought of him in one of those silly scanty fake nurse outfits. Only it's not just a humorous thought, but one that shoots down your lower belly, topsy turvy, a tickly feeling over your... well, pussy. He'd probably dramatically, hammily bend over in it, presenting his butt, looking goofy but sexy, then legit seductive, saying there's all sorts of ways you two could play doctor...

Remembering how he's naked outside, spread out in bed, maybe... oh god, touching himself. No, getting dressed. You flush, hands washing under your breasts to get the boob sweat and the pulse of the shower water so not helping. He was just in this shower, naked, hands caressing, you mean washing over himself, probably humming soft, mmming as the hot water sluices over his skin: breasts, arms, belly, thighs, cupping his balls... like you're touching yourself in tandem with the thought of him. Gasping as you rub soft over your cupped vulva, press your palm to it and rock, picturing him sliding over his cock. Mmmm.

You need to stop thinking like this, of him like this, but the arousal isn't just tickly or even a fullness, but an ache down there too now, almost hurting. You don't register what you can do with the showerhead until you've detached it, are washing the soap from your pits and under your breasts. What you want to do, but so shouldn't with B in the next room. Either he'd hear as you got closer, or you'd bonk something in the shower, or you'd slip if you got too into it...