for the beta-ing. This was the 2nd story I wrote for the fic challenge, but again didn't quite think it met my recipient's wish list. But I got beta comments for it and edited it into present shape anyway.
Billy stood at the window with his back to the room, smoking. His gaze moved across the empty parking lot. Bluish illumination from the lights over the lot silhouetted him and filtered through the smoking rising from the cigarette tucked between his fingers.
Deadmonton. 4am. Not quite dawn, yet not full night anymore.
Joe rolled over on the bed. This was their first really big tour. Motels, now – no more sleeping in the van. For now, anyway.
So: motel. Two beds. Two king sized beds.
If both got used it was just because they both didn’t want to sleep in the sweaty, spunky sheets they’d messed up. So they’d mess up one bed, move to the other to sleep. . . then mess it up later, too.
“The fuck are you doin’?” Joe asked, stretching his arms in a controlled full body yawn.
“Nothin,’” Billy replied.
( Read more... )
This was Sleepy Joe. Post-coital Sleepy Joe. Maybe the easiest Joe of all to take, although Billy didn’t really have a problem with the other Joes; you just had to watch your step around Pissy Joe or Enraged Joe. But you had to do that with pissy or enraged anyone.
Before Post-coital Sleepy Joe tonight, it was Lusty Joe he’d been dealing with. Everyone would assume the fading bite marks on Billy’s neck were from the punk girl from the student newspaper. No one would know they were actually from Joe. Billy thought back to earlier that night.
. . . .
They’d been the second band on a bill that featured Evil Beaver opening and Drugged On Arrival last. But almost everyone left the pit for the bar after Hard Core Logo finished their set. Coming up in the world: people had come to see them. From backstage, Billy looked out at the sparsely populated pit, dripping sweat from his nose and down his cheeks, drenched T-shirt clinging to him. He smiled to himself. They might have opened for Drugged On Arrival, but the crowd had come for Hard Core Logo, and left when the Hard Cores finished their last encore.
Joe stood at the table of booze reserved just for Hard Core (now that they had it on the legal rider, it was like Van Halen’s M&Ms: something that just magically appeared, or they didn’t have to play). Some black-haired, mohawked punk girl in a very short skirt and knee high combat boots was talking to him. Billy looked from Joe’s offhand conversation with the girl back to the stage where Drugged On Arrival was going into their second number, noting that the pit still had few slamdancers pounding into each other.
Satisfied, grinning to himself, Billy met Joe at the booze table.
“Billy. This is Jeanette. She writes for –” Joe raised his eyebrows at her while he mixed something horrible with a lot of hard liquor “– the student paper at U Alberta, Edmonton.”
“Hi.” Billy smiled that special grin at Joe, but Joe didn’t catch it, focused on mixing something hard.
“She wants to interview us.” Billy caught the tone of his voice then. Joe couldn’t help the pride creeping in, even as he acted unaffected and uncaring.
“Us the band? Or you and me?” Billy asked Joe, but looked Jeanette full in the face. Her spiky hair was just like Joe’s. Her eyes were big and brown and full of adoration.
“Just you two,” she purred, barely audible over the thrashy sounds outside in the club.
Satisfied with his drink, Joe came over behind Jeanette, put an arm around her neck, pushed roughly up against her, and sandwiched her between himself and Billy with a thrust of his pelvis.
Billy almost stumbled back at the impact of Jeanette’s breasts against his ribs, but he held his ground. The top of her head came to about Billy’s nose, so she had to look up at him, Joe’s forearm curled possessively around her throat.
Joe cocked his head at Billy over hers. Let’s have a go, his mischievous expression said.
“Yeah?” Billy smiled down at Jeanette, then met Joe’s eyes. “Just where is this interview taking place?”
Their hotel room, as it turned out. She asked questions and actually managed to write a number of things on her little note pad while Joe peeled her clothes slowly off her. Billy, shirtless, watched from one of the beds. She had a portable cassette recorder going on the small table between the two beds, too, so Billy didn’t know what she was writing. Maybe how they looked.
Billy shook his head. When Joe Dick wanted to, he could be very charming. He could get any girl to buy them drinks, hand over her pot, give them her blow, take off her pants.
When he wanted to. But sometimes Joe just wanted a rag doll. Looked like it might be one of those nights. And the more popular the Hard Cores became, the more rag dolls there were to choose from.
She sat on the bed, between Joe’s legs, his lips on the back of her neck, his shirt already off, head cocked so he could watch Billy watch him put the moves on her. Joe dipped into her skirt with one hand, into her front-hook bra with the other. His eyes said, This is all for you, y’know.
Billy answered all her questions offhandedly, didn’t even really think about them or about what he was saying. Joe put it all out there for him, getting her all hot, while she giggled and got her interview and jotted her notes.
“Okay, and when will you guys be back here to play again?” was her final question, spoken through shivers as Joe’s lips moved slowly up and down the side of her neck, both of his hands now cupping her breasts, then unhooking her bra and slipping it off her.
Billy’s jeans felt tighter.
“I dunno. Six months, maybe,” Billy replied.
“Four,” Joe corrected, his voice muffled in her neck.
“Four?” Billy asked, raising his eyebrows.
“Mulligan booked us for the next four months. We’re back here in September,” Joe said, lifting his head to look Billy in the eyes.
“Okay. . .” she jotted furiously, black spikes quivering.
“Sweetheart, whaddaya say,” Joe murmured into her ear while cupping and squeezing handfuls of breasts. “Whaddaya say about Billiam over there?”
She cocked her head sideways, still trying to write. But her eyes shifted from her paper pad to Billy.
“What about him?” she said, half-turning in Joe’s arms.
Joe’s one hand trailed down from her tits to grasp the moving pen and pad of paper in the other. He kissed her then, and took the paper and pen from her and tossed them in the general direction of the nightstand. The pen hit the floor. The pad hit the cassette recorder, knocked it off the bed side table. It clicked off.
“Hey,” she protested into Joe’s mouth. Billy bent over and picked it up, rewound just enough to replay Joe saying “whaddaya say about Billiam over there” and hit Stop. Joe sounded almost proud. Proud of Billy.
“Recorder’s fine,” Billy said and placed it back on the bed side table. He lay back on the bed and propped his head up with a hand. Needed to stretch his legs out straight in his jeans to ease the pressure on his cock.
“That doesn’t make it into the paper, right?” Joe whispered to her, and then kissed her more.
“Mmm. . .” she said into Joe’s mouth, their tongues smacking wetly. He drew back for her answer. “No,” she affirmed, “that won’t be in the paper.”
Joe kissed the side and back of her neck again, and slid both hands down to unzip her skirt.
“Billy really likes you,” Joe murmured into her neck, sharply eyeing Billy.
Billy’s eyes met Joe’s and he felt his cock stiffen further. How the fuck Joe did this to him, he didn’t really know.
Or care.
“He does?” she seemed genuinely surprised. Joe liked to pull this switcheroo on girls sometimes.
“Can’t you tell? Look at him. He’s getting stiff just thinking about you,” Joe whispered, loud enough for Billy to hear.
“Wow,” she said thickly, glancing down at the Billy’s swollen jeans. A slow gear change of arousal crossed her face.
Joe shoved her onto her feet by her hips, stood behind her, and slid her skirt down to her knees. He pushed it down to her combat boots with his own boot from behind, and put his lips back on her neck, crouching down to her height to do so.
Billy looked up at them. Jeanette looked down at him, smiling happily. She had a cat-who-got-the-cream look on her face. She’d clearly thought she was just getting Joe, but now understood it was two for the price of one.
“Billy,” she breathed.
“Unzip, Billy,” came Joe’s low command, spoken around her neck. Her spikes and Joe’s mohawk melded in some weird way. Her skin was a creamier and hairless version of Joe’s paleness, with firm young breasts.
Billy looked down at his now-much-tighter jeans from where he lay with his head propped on his hand, and started to unzip.
Joe’s cool and cocky gaze met his from slightly above and behind Jeannette’s expectant expression.
“Doesn’t he look good enough to eat?” Joe murmured in her ear.
Billy knew everything that would happen before it happened, knew how it would all go down. He watched it all happen in a strange, slow-motion way. She was a good sport. They’d probably do this again in four months – she would remember this.
Even if Joe pretended he didn’t, she’d show up and insist, and Billy would remember, and Joe would go along for the ride, and would whisper, “Anything for my Billy” sarcastically at Billy in the taxi back to the hotel. Billy could see it happening as if it were a memory and not imagining the future. They had done this before. . .
“Go on, sweetheart. He’s hot and hard and waiting for you,” Joe said in her ear, still eyeing Billy sharply.
Billy leaned back then, and got to work, shoving his jeans and ratty briefs down to what he always thought of as his skinny thighs, nothing like Joe’s self-described “meatier hams.”
With a gentle nudge from behind from Joe, Jeanette leaned forward towards Billy, then stepped delicately out of the skirt pooled around her combat boots.
“Help her out, Billy,” Joe ordered, voice husky.
Billy sat up and swung his legs down just as Jeanette bent at the waist and slid her mouth clumsily across his lips. Joe’s hands curved around her hips and her black cotton panties. He sat down on the bed behind her and peeled her panties down to kiss one round, full buttock. Joe kept his face cocked to the side, so he could watch Jeanette take Billy’s mouth.
Billy’s hands went reflexively to her shoulders as she kissed him. Her hands encircled his cock, and Joe kissed and stroked her buttocks. Finally Jeanette sighed into Billy’s mouth and folded down to her knees on the rug. Joe let her slip out of his grasp, then watched closely as she pulled Billy’s jeans down to his ankles to give her more room to work.
She dipped her head down, and Billy looked down the expanse of spiky black hair, pale shoulders and back. Except for the obvious differences in size, muscle, breasts and hips, with her face down on his cock, spiky hair moving up and down on him, competent and eager . . .she looked a lot like Joe.
But she felt nothing like Joe.
Joe unbuttoned the top button of his jeans, then reached for the cigarettes at the edge of the night stand.
Jeanette’s more than adequate sucking made Billy inhale sharply and lean back on his hands. He involuntarily arched his back and thrust his pelvis at her, and she swallowed him, coming up and going back down again and again.
It was porno-head. Looked great, but didn’t feel as good as the down-to-business fast stroking with heavy suction that Joe did, that felt amazing and mind-blowing and wouldn’t look like much on camera. . . unless you’d ever been sucked that way.
Billy wasn’t complaining. But the icing on the cake always came later, after the booze and the girls and the rest of the world was gone, when it was just Joe and Billy.
Jeanette was a trouper, though. Billy was involuntarily reaching that maximum point of arousal. He felt Joe’s gaze even as he looked down at Jeanette.
Billy glanced up from her now sloppier and more effective head. His hand on the back of her neck probably had something to do with it, but he couldn’t help it – his hand went there automatically. Joe had lit a cigarette, and exhaled through his nostrils, watching Billy lose control.
Billy met Joe’s hungry, intense gaze, knowing Joe could see his jaw clench, see his posture change, his muscles tense, his hips thrust involuntarily. . . knowing Joe could see every sign that he was about to come.
And come he did. Jeanette started to sputter a little – Billy had forgotten to warn her (not intentionally, just distracted by Joe). But then Joe was on his knees behind her, muttering quietly.
“Don’t swallow it,” he whispered in her ear. Joe looked up at Billy while coaching her, watching Billy’s face.
“Just let it hit your tongue, the back of your throat, and keep it there,” he murmured in her ear. His look was smoky and calculating, judging just when Billy’s last spurt would be.
And then it was Billy’s last spurt, with a few more helpless thrusts into her mouth. Joe’s hand slipped under Billy’s, slid up the back of Jeanette’s mohawk into her spikes, and tipped her head back to settle his mouth on hers for a deep kiss full of Joetongue.
Joe pulled her back almost as if to dip her in the midst of dancing. It wasn’t that at all. He just needed a better, deeper angle to lick as much of Billy out of her mouth as possible.
(Billy envied the uncaring way Joe did whatever he felt like doing, without much thought. He had wondered if it bothered Joe to know there were chicks out there who knew Joe liked to lick Billy’s come out of their mouths. You tell a girl exactly how to hold the come in her mouth and not choke or swallow, she’s gonna wonder how you know, Billy thought.
Working girls might assume Joe’d done some porn –very punk. But the happy groupies in every town wouldn’t know that. They’d wonder, Billy thought, wonder how Joe knew how to hold come in the back of your mouth without gagging, choking, or swallowing it. So he’d asked Joe once if he cared if the girls knew.
Joe had quizzically asked, “Why would I care? I fuck them, too.” He’d shrugged, genuinely unconcerned. Joe was much better at the fuck-you-just-watch-me than Billy.)
Joe stumbled up from the floor to half-stand. He fumbled with his jeans and pulled Jeanette up to her feet. He got his jeans off, got his hard cock out, and yanked Jeanette’s panties aside from her crotch. She didn’t protest, although she gasped for air when his mouth went from her lips down to the soft spot where her neck met her collar bones, and Joe’s fingers slid inside her. Billy swung his legs up on the bed, leaving his jeans pooled on the floor where his feet had been. He lay back to watch the show.
Joe twisted himself and Jeanette around and sat down on the bed facing Billy. Joe yanked her panties off her, picked her up, pulled her legs open around him (rag doll), and sat her down on his cock.
After a few minutes of Jeanette happily riding Joe with increasing enthusiasm, Joe shoved her off him. He glanced at Billy, half-sexy, half-surly – the fuck? – and tumbled her back onto the bed to really fuck her.
It was balls-out, do-it-‘til-you-come fucking now. With Billy, Joe often controlled his arousal, milked it, held out for so long. He never wanted to come too fast with Billy. But sometimes, with chicks, Joe couldn’t help himself.
With chicks, past a certain point of arousal and performance for Billy, Joe became perfunctory. It was almost like a nature show: mammals mating. Very utilitarian. Very let-me-get-my-seed-up-in-you-and-then-we’re-good. Joe slipped an arm under one of Jeanette’s legs and pushed her knee up over his shoulder.
“Good. Yeah,” Joe panted at the improved angle of penetration.
Jeanette squirmed happily under Joe, with no idea Billy was getting a live sex show of Joe moving in and out of her. Billy knew this was for him, so he watched, helplessly getting aroused again. Joe came quickly, thrusting into her hard and deep, grunting with each spurt. Jeanette moaned.
Billy wondered idly if she would actually come or would fake it or would be faintly disappointed but not say anything because she was just so happy to be with him and Joe. Anything was possible in these scenarios; Billy had seen all options occur at one point or another.
She seemed to be digging it, though. She came to her own orgasm a little behind Joe, clutching him by the ass, pulling him deeper into her and thrusting up at him just as Billy could tell Joe was about to stop grinding into her. But Joe was a good sport – sometimes. He let her have her way until she was satisfied and slid her hands up his back. Then she threw them over her head, panting, eyes closed, a little smile on her face.
Billy smiled. He’d come, Joe came, and she came. Three for three: everybody happy.
Joe’s cock softened and slipped out of her just as he was rolling off her to the side. Their heads were at the foot of the bed, and their feet at the head. They hadn’t even gotten under the coverlet.
“That was great,” Joe panted. He pushed himself up, still breathing hard, and turned back to the nightstand, then to the floor where his cigarettes had fallen.
Jeanette sat up with that voluptuous post-orgasmic look women got sometimes.
Joe lit a cigarette, passed it to Billy; lit another, passed it to Jeanette. Lit another, smoked it himself.
“We’re good, eh?” Joe asked her, just a hint of leer in his smile. “Got everything you needed?”
“Yeah!” she nodded enthusiastically, smiling and smoking.
“You let us know if you need any clarifications or whatever,” Joe said, sliding back down to lie next to her. He propped his head up on an elbow.
She handed him her cigarette; started to put her clothes on.
“You guys coming ‘round in September again?” she asked casually.
“Yep,” Joe agreed, and gave Billy an I-told-you-so expression.
“Great!”
“Call Mulligan in Vancouver, he’ll tell you how to get in touch with us to get on the list.”
“Okay.” Her punk rock heroes had solidified into godhood tonight.
“Now, me and Billy got some stuff to discuss, so. . .”
“Sure, right,” she said. “I gotta get going too.”
To tell all my friends I fucked Joe and Billy! Billy thought.
“ ‘S all right. We’re good.”
She’d never taken the combat boots off, Billy realized as she slid her skirt up and zipped it. She bent over to take her cigarette back from Joe for a hard drag. Her breasts hung down, then, so Joe reached up and playfully cupped one. She smiled, then stood up, pulling her breast out of Joe’s light grasp. Cigarette in one hand, bra in the other, she tucked the smoke in the corner of her mouth like a truck driver. She put the bra on and hooked it in the front.
“This was . . .great,” she whispered excitedly, smiling at them both.
“Let’s do it again,” Joe replied, with mostly fake enthusiasm she didn’t catch.
“Yeah!” She dragged her T-shirt over her head.
“See ya in four months,” Joe smiled up at her.
“Yeah. . . thanks!”
“No problem.”
She prodded her spikes in the hotel room mirror over the battered dresser, threw on her motorcycle jacket, and exhaled smoke over Billy as she winked at him. Joe patted her on the thigh as she stood between the beds.
“Run along, now, ‘kay sweetie?”
In one stride she was at the bedside table for her pen, pad and recorder, stuffing them in her jacket pockets. Then she twirled, smiling – all infectious, youthful energy – strode to the door, and slammed out.
“Joe.” Billy smiled. Couldn’t help it.
“Fantastic!”
They reached across the gap between the beds, and smacked their first two finger tips together.
“We’re gonna have to go to the clinic again for antibiotics, you keep this up the way you have been,” Billy smiled.
“What? She loved it. You loved it. So we shared some germs. So we get some antibiotics.”
“Goofball.”
‘Win-win’ Billiam, right?” Joe grinned wickedly.
“You sound like a corporate fuck.” Billy looked away.
“Thought you liked the corporate fucks.” Joe said, ducking his head to examine Billy’s expression more thoughtfully.
“Not all of them.”
“Lotta them, though.”
“Some of them actually like the music,” Billy said, thinking guiltily of a conversation he’d had with someone from IRS.
“Failed musicians, all of ‘em.” Joe shook his head.
“Shut up.”
“Make me,” Joe said, and looked at Billy with that gleam in his eye.
Seconds later, cigarette mashed out in the foil ashtray, Joe was on him.
“Get off,” Billy muttered, not really meaning it. Joe’s lips and five o’clock shadow nuzzled his neck. “Or take my smoke. We’ll fuckin’ set the place on fire, you mess with me with a lit cigarette in my hand.”
“She was into it, wasn’t she, Billiam?” came the soft words at his throat. Joe’s hands gripped Billy’s shoulders. A little too hard. Billy’s cock thumped to life again in the rhythm of his heartbeat.
“You mean you were into it,” Billy replied in a whisper.
“ ‘Course. Nice thing about punk girls—”
“—You don’t have to hold their hair up to watch them blow you,” Billy finished for him.
Joe pulled back, straddling Billy’s thighs, looking down on him. He took Billy’s cigarette from his hand, inhaled a deep drag. Then he leaned up and across Billy to jam it out in the flimsy foil ashtray. His hardening cock swung inches from Billy’s face as he did so – no accident, Billy knew.
“Ya up for it again?” Joe said, sitting back down on Billy. “Ready to go?”
“Could be,” Billy murmured, looking up at Joe. “Maybe not.”
“Liar. You are too,” Joe said. As if Joe had commanded it, Billy felt himself fully harden into good wood against the inside of Joe’s straddling thigh. Joe’s squeezed his legs together, crunching Billy affectionately between them before leaning down to take his mouth.
There, faintly, was the taste of himself in Joe’s cool, smoke flavoured mouth.
“Ow. . .” Billy muttered into Joe’s mouth, and Joe relaxed the vise of his thighs around Billy’s.
“Fuckin’ baby. Whiner.” Joe slid down and lay fully on Billy.
“Fucker,” Billy whispered as Joe’s mouth trailed down his chest and worked each nipple in turn. Then Joe slid sideways off Billy and dragged himself heavily down until he was face to face with Billy’s cock. He leaned up on one elbow, then engulfed it with his mouth.
Billy gritted his teeth, the sudden pleasure almost too much.
Joe got down to it quick: business-like, efficient sucking got Billy to that certain point of arousal faster than he would have thought so soon after Jeanette. Pretty soon, Joe wasn’t languidly leaning against Billy’s hip. He was hunched over Billy’s cock, between Billy’s legs, using hands and mouth.
As he frequently did, once Joe got Billy to neargasm, he kept him there with gentle suction and slower, lighter strokes – a hovering kind of attention to pleasure just this side of exploding. He alternated that with sudden bursts of fast, tight sucking that spiraled Billy up farther. Joe kept him maddeningly close to the edge that way, backing down when Billy’s fingers flexed involuntarily in his hair, when Billy’s stomach tightened and his thighs hardened.
“Joe. . . c’mon,” Billy finally gasped, fingers pulling fruitlessly against Joe’s neck muscles, which refused to move at a pace any faster than Joe wanted. “Lemme come.”
“In good time,” Joe murmured, momentarily off Billy’s cock, breath tickling Billy’s pubic hair.
“Fuck. . . er. . .”
Just that breath, that tickle, through his hair, pushed Billy closer to the edge, and his hand on the back of Joe’s neck shoved involuntarily again.
This time Joe let him, and Joe’s mouth slammed down on him. He sucked Billy in his throat and let Billy finally take control. He held Billy’s hip; he let Billy piston in and then almost entirely out of his mouth. Joe slid his other spit-covered hand down to encircle Billy’s balls, and tugged them just as the inevitable spurts began.
Billy bucked up, pulled Joe’s head down, and came hard. Less come this time, but each spurt more excruciating and seeming to take forever to come up from his balls and out into the back of Joe’s throat. Joe took it all, swallowed convulsively around Billy’s cock, and never lost pace, never missed a drop.
That was the thing about Joe. He knew how to rag-doll girls because he could go with the rag-dolling himself.
“Fuck!” Billy hoarsely shouted, the last spurt achingly sweet, almost too much, Joe’s hot, wet mouth slowly sliding back off his cock. He grunted helplessly when the final suction of Joe’s retreating mouth tightly slipped off the head, too much stimulation.
“That was beautiful. Good, deep-down-in-your-balls come.”
“Freak.” Billy panted. “Fuck.”
“Any time,” Joe whispered, catching his breath. He clutched Billy’s hips and thrust his hard cock against Billy’s ankle.
“Get up here.”
“Bitch, bitch, bitch. . .” Joe slid up in bed, and rolled Billy over onto his stomach. Settled on Billy from behind. Joe ground against Billy, sliding his cock into the crack, but not getting very far.
“Open your legs,” Joe murmured as he slid one leg between Billy’s.
Billy did as he was told. “Ya like?”
“I like. Now shuddup,” Joe panted, settling heavily back on Billy, thrusting his erection against Billy’s buttock, not into the cleft.
“Dink.” Billy smiled to himself, cheek flat against the bed.
“You love it. . .” Joe whispered, sliding his arm under Billy, around Billy’s neck from behind. His other arm encircled Billy’s waist, then slid down to his hip.
The cock on Billy’s buttock was insistent, but Billy was tired and blissed out enough not to care.
“Lick it.”
“You’re such a bitch.”
“Last time ya ripped me. I was fuckin’ sore. That’s not buddies. Just lick it.”
“You can dish it out, but you can’t take it, eh?” Joe snickered. But Billy felt him slide down, felt Joe’s breath on his ass.
Joe half-sat up, grabbed the other pillow, and shoved it under Billy’s spent cock and pelvis. “Help me out,” he ordered, a hint of frustration creeping into his voice.
Billy mashed the pillow into a higher mound under his cock, hiked up his ass, and spread his legs, feeling simultaneously slutty and giddy.
“Door locked?”
“They lock automatically behind them.”
“You sure?”
“I’m sure,” Joe said, and Billy knew he was lying. Still, it was almost 4am. Pipe and John were probably long since passed out from dope and booze.
Lock automatically. That was only in the good motels – not these shitty motels. Still. . . whatever. Billy was too comfortably post-coital and waiting for Joe to ramp it up still farther. He mostly didn’t give a fuck about the door, now.
Joe’s hot breath was back there, now.
And then Joe’s tongue, cool and smooth, licked over his taint and ass, and Billy’s cock twitched.
“Billy,” Joe breathed. Then the gentle point of Joe’s tongue pressed into Billy’s hole. It didn’t go far, but Billy’s cock twitched again.
“Joe,” Billy whispered. “Damn.”
“Yeah,” Joe whispered. Billy heard him gather spit in his mouth, felt the spit hit his asshole dead-on seconds later. It was their private joke that Joe spit on everyone, like he wanted to fuck them, but his best aim was only for Billy.
Joe had solemnly sworn never to let anyone know what they did alone after the groupies were gone and the drugs were gone or they were bored with them but they weren’t bored with each other and the door was locked. . .
Had sworn, and had kept his word. Joe didn’t care who knew, but since Billy did, Joe kept it to himself.
So Billy was mostly okay with the door maybe not being locked…
It was their secret, a secret that had grown over the years from mutual jackoffs to scoring chicks for each other to blowing each other to watching each other fuck chicks to the ass fucking which had only happened because that one time that one girl had been sucking Billy while Joe watched. This was before Joe started coaching them how to hold Billy’s come in their mouths.
Without him asking, this girl just shoved her finger up Billy’s ass. He came like fireworks, uncontrolled and spasming, and suddenly filled with panic and pissed off. Billy smacked her reflexively, unintentionally but with frightened adrenaline suddenly in his veins and her finger still in his ass. She knew. Somehow she knew and he panicked. He thought she could read all the sex with Joe in him somehow, thought she could tell by something in the blowjob that he was a fag.
She started to yell, and pulled her own hand back to smack Billy. Joe pulled them away from each other and she pouted, “I just thought you’d like it ‘cause my boyfriend likes it!”
Billy had internally heaved a great sigh of relief while Joe shook his head at Billy behind her. Joe’s expression told Billy that Billy was about to give himself away far more from overreaction than Joe ever could from talking about what they did together.
“He didn’t mean it, did ya, Billy? You just didn’t give him any warning, that’s all. . . he’s not used to that. Gotta give a guy some warning before ya do that, honey.” Joe covered for him. “Say you’re sorry, Billy.”
Billy forced himself to relax, made himself smile and apologize. At Joe’s urging – more like insistence -- Billy let her go down on him again, and let her shove her finger in his ass again, and hot damn if he didn’t come again superquick, like she was pressing a button inside him.
Then Joe took her, soundly fucked her like she wanted, let her caterwaul ‘til Pipe and John pounded on the wall between their rooms. And then he got rid of her — “We gotta talk band shit now, sweetheart, sorry—” the ready excuse Joe always used from then on. “Come by after our show tomorrow night.”
No sooner had Joe gotten the door locked and chained behind her than he tackled Billy from behind and bit his neck. He shoved Billy down the rest of the way, then pressed his hard cock into the cleft between Billy’s buttocks and – this might have been the only time Joe begged for anything – said, “Lemme, Billy, she already softened you up – lemme in.”
Before Billy could stop him, Joe shoved the tip of his cock in, and damn if Billy hadn’t started to stiffen again, despite the wincing pain.
“No, Joe,” Billy squirmed under Joe, despite the hardening of his cock, the sensation of Joe partway in him both painful and excruciatingly arousing.
“You do it to me next,” Joe offered, breathing hard on the back of Billy’s neck.
Billy relaxed then, though Joe was probably lying, probably had no intention of following through, like with so many other things. Joe worked gently back and forth with shallow thrusts until he got the whole head in and damn that felt good even though it hurt and Billy moaned from pleasure and pain.
Joe nuzzled the back of his neck and dripped sweat on him and said, “Good boy,” and worked it back and forth more. He slowly worked himself all the way in up to the hilt, wetting Billy’s back with his sweat.
And Billy felt so fucking turned on but ashamed and horny again; he finally just said, “Do it.”
Joe ripped in and out of him, then: hard and fast, painful and amazing. And Billy helplessly came again, hard; it racked his body like sexual dry heaves. His ass clenched around Joe’s cock and brought Joe off, too.
Then Joe rolled off him and they both lay there saying nothing, breathing hard, breathing so hard. Billy tried to think of something to say, something casual precisely because they’d crossed over into true faggot territory now.
He still hadn’t quite wrapped his head around the fact that he liked girls, he fucked girls, girls sucked him, and that was good. But he loved Joe. And that was somehow part of – and totally separate from – the fact that he sucked Joe and Joe sucked him. And now Joe had fucked him, fucked him up the ass. . . And that was pretty fuckin’ gay. . . So what was he supposed to do with himself?
Joe finally spoke, so casual.
“Fuck, that was amazing. Always liked your skinny ass. Like it even better now.” And slapped Billy on the ass, then reached across Billy for the cigarettes and lit one.
It made Billy laugh, an almost hysterical laugh he choked off.
Joe just looked at him, calmly, almost serenely. He took a long smooth drag off his cigarette, then handed it to Billy to share it.
“Fuck me, too, if you want,” Joe said. He shrugged and looked Billy right in the eye and added, “I heard it feels really good.”
Billy wondered for a moment if Joe was making fun of him. But Joe looked serious. Billy filed that away. (Jealous wonder: just how had Joe heard ass fucking felt good to the assfuckee? Were there other guys? Had Joe done this before? With who?)
But the fact that Joe was game, would take it like he gave it. . .
It was as simple – and not as simple – as that.
Billy said quietly, “Don’t tell anyone.”
“Okay,” Joe simply said, taking his cigarette back and shrugging.
“Mean it. Say it.”
“I won’t tell anyone,” Joe enunciated carefully, his cool gaze meeting Billy’s.
Joe, the fucker, was perfectly capable of using secrets as leverage in the increasingly complex interrelationships among the band and Mulligan. But Billy sensed this was not leverage, was not something to hold over his head.
And then Joe shrugged.
“You do me, and then you could tell, too. Then it’s Mutually Assured Destruction, right? Don’t want that.”
Joe handed his cigarette back to Billy, drawled “Finish it,” and then rolled over on his stomach and shoved the pillow under his cock.
It couldn’t be MAD, though. Joe never cared what people thought. Why would he start now?
Billy crushed out the cigarette, jacked himself into hardness again, and just as he was holding Joe’s buttocks apart, trying to find the hole, Joe looked over a tattooed shoulder at him.
“Use more spit. I shoulda done that with you, but. . . I wanted your ass for so long, I got greedy. Sorry.”
And meant it, the fucker. Meant every word, held Billy’s gaze, ‘til Billy nodded dumbly. He spit on Joe’s ass a few times until it seemed like there was enough saliva.
It seemed to take hours to get his cock in, though he knew it wasn’t that long. Joe grunted and sweated and Billy tried to be careful. Finally his head was in. Joe’s ass was hot and almost painfully tight and this was starting to seem like it was a lot more effort than it was worth.
Then Joe took a deep breath, and exhaled, and said, “Go.”
The tight ring of hard muscle around Billy relaxed a little, and he shoved in deeper.
Joe clenched and unclenched and again gritted “Go,” through his teeth.
Billy thrust again, too shallowly.
Joe snapped, “Billy, get the fuck in there.” So Billy shoved all the way in, hard. Joe groaned and slammed a fist into the bed. Then he gritted, “More.”
Billy pulled back out and Joe clenched his fist again, but said nothing.
Billy started fucking Joe hard and Joe took it, no more fist slams, until finally Billy pulled out and pulled Joe’s hips back and Joe got up on all fours and let Billy fuck him doggie style.
Joe’s cock drooled all over the bed under them until Billy started jacking it. But jacking Joe off messed up his fucking rhythm, so Joe took over jacking himself off. Although it took a while, because he’d already come a few times, Billy finally came in Joe’s ass, wondering if he’d permanently damaged Joe’s ass and sort of not caring but caring. Joe hammered himself harder and faster. Seconds after Billy, he came, gasping hoarsely.
They fell exhausted against one another and passed out that way, to awaken to pounding on the door in the morning.
Joe jumped awake first, yawned, yelled, “What?” and slid to the edge of the bed, rubbing a hand over his face and flattened mohawk.
“Hurry up,” Pipefitter called. “We gotta get rolling soon.”
“In a minute,” Joe yelled back. He stood, casting his eyes about for his jeans.
Billy grabbed Joe’s wrist. Joe’s piercing gaze met his.
“What?”
“Remember what I said last night?”
“Yeah. Remember what I said? Just you ‘n me, Billy, nobody else will know. Lemme go, I gotta find my pants.”
The rest of the day it was as if it had never happened. But that night, after the girls were gone, in the dark, the blowjob Joe gave Billy changed and he rolled Billy onto his stomach, and fucked Billy hard until he came, pulling Billy onto all fours at the last moment.
They both collapsed down onto the bed, Joe heavy on Billy but not uncomfortably so. Joe’s cock softened, and he pulled out, saying nothing. He slid to the side next to Billy. Then he rolled over onto his stomach, still panting, and just lay there, looking Billy meaningfully in the eye while he caught his breath. Staring at Billy.
Billy finally realized what Joe wanted and climbed on Joe. They hardly ever talked about it after that. It was always on the menu.
Billy came back to the moment, to Joe smearing the spit around with his tongue, and then repositioning himself above Billy. He felt the head of Joe’s cock pushing into him, felt the familiar faint pain and sweet piercing. He relaxed and let Joe have his way.
Soon sweat dripped off Joe’s chest onto Billy’s back, and Joe grunted involuntarily, panting hoarsely. The only coherent words that occasionally came out of him were “Bill. . . Billy. . .”
Billy felt the sweet sensations build inside him, restless without knowing why, closing in on his own orgasm, feeling how close Joe was. Pretty soon Joe would. . .
“Up,” Joe panted. He pulled out all the way, sat back on his knees, and tried to tug Billy up onto all fours by his hips. “It’s a better angle.”
“Yeah,” Billy said. And then, without really knowing why, he sat up, and turned around and faced Joe.
“What,” Joe said, looking down at Billy’s hardened cock, stroking one of his slim thighs absently. Tired lines were etched by his eyes, but his gaze was feverishly bright when it met Billy’s.
Billy said nothing. He slid down and lay on his back and looked up at Joe kneeling between his legs. He bent his knees, spread his legs wider around Joe.
Joe paused, still breathing hard, and scrutinized Billy’s expression.
“Better angle,” Billy said, looking up at Joe.
Joe paused, strangely uncertain – not an expression often seen on his face. Then he slid his hands down the insides of Billy’s thighs, stopping just short of his cock, and leaned down for some sucking.
Billy relaxed into the languid head. Just as he started to get into it, Joe stretched back up to lay full on him. His body covered Billy’s; he leaned his head between Billy’s neck and shoulder.
Joe just bit his neck and slid up for a real kiss, not at all punishing or demanding. Just slow, exploratory kissing. Billy responded, warmth rising to the surface of his face, his chest. . .
He encircled Joe with his arms and legs. . . something they never did. If one of them held the other, it was usually to hold him down. Not that there was anything wrong with that – Billy liked that just fine – but this was different and good. Maybe better, in a weird way.
Joe started rocking his pelvis. Billy’s hard cock hadn’t let him forget about it, grinding their two cocks together side by side. The friction got Billy restless again.
Just as he was about to push Joe off him and say, “Come on,” Joe pulled up and then sat back on his knees.
He paused, looking at Billy, one of those indefinable stares.
Then Joe grabbed Billy’s ankles and put them on his shoulders. He slid down between Billy’s legs, then put his shoulders into the backs of Billy’s knees. He looked down to position his cock, and then plunged back in, no preamble, no playing around, just jammed himself back as deep as he could go.
Billy felt Joe slide past that spot inside him. Knew Joe was going to give it to him hard and fast, whether Billy liked it or not.
He liked it.
Sure enough, Joe did. Billy soon panted and grunted as Joe slammed into him. It was amazing and Billy was so close, so close, so close. . . Then Joe doubled his speed but shortened his depth, hitting that spot inside Billy, over and over, fast and furious. Billy began to jerk and come, and Joe started to grunt too. He held himself above Billy and pounded them together until Billy’s moans were incoherent and grateful. Then Joe slowed down, dragging out his last few spurts, Billy twitching on sensory overload with each one.
Finally Joe collapsed on Billy’s chest and stomach, Billy’s legs still crooked up around Joe’s big arms. Billy slid his sweaty legs down around Joe, who lay like dead weight on him now. Billy didn’t mind.
He felt Joe soften and slip out of him. Joe shifted his weight slightly, grunted, and tucked his head farther into the space between Billy’s neck and shoulder. He breathed heavily on Billy until he’d caught his breath. Then he slid off Billy without looking at him. On his way off to the side, Joe grabbed Billy’s hand in his and squeezed it hard, so hard, crushing hard.
And then he was out. Typical Joe.
. . .
Billy stood at the window, remembering it all, and smoked, and gazed out at the parking lot. Joe started to stir. Billy expected some flip comment or grumble for cigarettes or something to drink. But all Joe did was yawn, slide out of bed naked and stumble off to the bathroom.
Billy heard him take a long piss, fart, and flush the toilet.
Then Joe wandered sleepily across the carpet to slide up behind Billy. Joe hung his arms around Billy’s shoulders and neck from behind. Billy turned his head slightly, not looking over his shoulder, just acknowledging Joe. He felt the hair of Joe’s chest against his back, sleep warm and animal like. Joe pressed his lips to Billy’s neck, then bit Billy there.
“Gimme a drag,” he murmured after his teeth let go, and jutted his chin past Billy’s ear. Billy held the cigarette up to Joe’s mouth, and Joe took a long drag, then nodded. Billy removed the cigarette and took a drag for himself as Joe exhaled smoke towards the window.
They stood there, looking out at the dead parking lot, Billy’s arms propped on the edge of the window. Billy felt the comfortable weight of Joe’s arms around his shoulders. Then he felt the whistle of air behind his ear as Joe put his nose there and inhaled deeply.
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ds_snippets. (I like to keep my own copies in my own LJS of stuff submitted on other comms.) It's all slash. ETA: When I first posted this, I myself forgot the last two were DC/HCL, not DC/DS. *headdesk* Not firing on all cylinders. And this is BEFORE any Xanax today. *sigh* OTOH, maybe it's just my subconscious telling me to write DC/DS Mike Sweeney/RayK. Like I didn't have enough going on with ![[livejournal.com profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/external/lj-userinfo.gif){kind=small}
