Kellie Matthews, she of the infinite patience with her gnat-brained friend, provided, as is her wont, solid advice and support and gets double bonus points for no-buck fucks. Kel and Cyn, thanks for reassurance and read-throughs. Rowan, duuude - you're an awesome beta. I nub you.
They're not mine; if they were I'd set 'em free to compete in the marketplace of ideas. That'd be a kick, huh?
M/M, Joe/Billy, NC-17. Contains het sex. Same universe - funny how that happens - as Last Point of Entry.
Monochrome Delirious
© Nov 2000 AuKestrel
She's the one. He's been watching her all night. Hungry, hungry only the way Billy can be, only the way I can see. She doesn't see it, doesn't know it, doesn't know she's being hunted, going to be rolled.
She's his usual type: little, long hair. Not as cute as his Van groupie, what's-her-face, Mary the Cunt, but it's been two weeks since Van and all he's had is hands since then, mostly his, mine once or twice. This chick's not as together as Mary, I'm thinking: she's zoned out already, vacant smile, seen that before, she scored something. Pretty, though, and a fuck's a fuck, after all.
He catches me watching her and winks. Oh, yeah. On the prowl. He hits the notes two beats off for the finish, recovers fast, good thing: knows I'll kick his ass for it and he doesn't have time for that tonight.
Billy hot and hard, eyes glittering a little, it's a pretty sight, so I aim a kick at his ass anyway when I walk by to put my guitar away. It doesn't connect and he laughs. John tosses him a beer; the crew's already breaking us down and John lives for that, fucking Anal Man, stows it the way he wants it, has a "system." He won't go to bed until it's done. Asshole.
Bill's jumped off the stage already, made his way to the end of the bar closest to the stage, right up to her, no time for subtlety tonight, he wants some and he wants it now. She's giggling 'cause he gave her his beer. And there they go: sharing it. Work it, Raleigh, work it.
Manager pays me fast, no hassle, didn't even make me go looking for him, just hopped up on stage, almost fell over the electrical cords, fat bastard. Fuckin' a. Reputation's a good thing to have. I keep telling the boys that when they bitch at me for cracking bottles over heads. Paying customers, whatever, fuck that. A fuckhead's a fuckhead and word gets around, drunk kids'll hassle me but sober managers won't.
Pipe whines at me for some cash and I peel off a fifty and tell him that's all they're getting until we settle up with the motel. Might rein Pipe in, might not, you never know. Sometimes money'll do it. Look over at Billy again: he's already got his face in her hair, and she's got one arm around his waist.
First kiss: that's how Bill gets them, that wicked little mouth, evil tongue inside, slipping in between their lips, opening them up wide, breaking 'em down, taking 'em down, all the way down into the sheets, legs spread wide, heaving under him, and that mouth working it all, working a fucking spell, seems like.
She tips her head back, or he pulls it back, and there it is, the kiss: soft and gentle at first, that's Billy, slip it in under her guard, let her get used to the taste and the feel and then hit her with the tongue, hungry and, Jesus, agile, has to be, can't be anything else. He tastes like beer and cigarettes, has to, but under it all must be something else, something Billy, something that gets her in the gut, brings her to her feet, moans and all, leaning into his arms, his chest, his mouth, and his hands, still tangled in her hair, holding her there, just the way he wants her.
John's muttering something in my ear, been talking to me for a while, sounds like. Fucking freak, fucking acid head, whatthefuckever. "Keys, yeah, but you lock the fucking van and keep the fucking keys." Once the crew took the van for a joyride. Saskatoon in February. The drum set got banged up pretty good and we lost two amps. Assholes. John scowls and nods at me. If he's together, he'll keep the keys okay, and he seems together tonight.
I swallow the rest of my beer, turn around, and Pipe's handing me another, already opened. Butt licker. I take it and chug half of it. Need whiskey, got to hit up the barkeep before we leave, it's going to be a long night without.
"What time we heading out?" Pipe asks. John cocks his head. Billy's laughing, so's the chick, snuggled up right against him. Wonder if he'll do her on the bar, right there. Nah. Probably not. He's not drunk enough and the manager's wiping down the bar, all serious and heavy. Pipe elbows me and I look around and he's licking the neck of his beer bottle, exaggerated, lascivious, winks at me and John. John laughs.
"Billy's gonna get some," Pipe says, sing-song.
Fuckers. "We'll head out at nine. Sharp." No matter how many times I tell 'em that, no matter how many times we hit the road at three instead, they run around like crazy to be ready at nine. Makes me laugh. Would if I was awake to see it, anyway, but the bitching after's usually fucking hilarious, kill a hundred miles that way sometimes.
"No!" John yells, scaring the shit out of Pipe, who drops his beer. John takes off, bitching about something. Pipe hears the familiar sound of a drum being dropped and he swears, kicks the bottle he dropped, cracked up one side now, and takes off too.
I watch the bottle skid across the stage, roll to a stop, trailed by thick foam, still dripping out of the neck when it stops, looks like a giant's splatted his wad on the stage. Funny and no one to share it with: Bill's kissing her again, feeling her up too, the manager's not looking too happy. Hey, man, be glad you ain't got a pool table handy, be glad Bill's just juiced up and not coked up.
We spent a cold fucking night in jail last tour but one in some hawser town because Billy did a biker chick on a pool table on a dare and a couple of the yokels got pissed. One of 'em landed a good punch on Billy, made him bleed, I saw red and between us we took most of 'em out before the cops got there. Creating a nuisance. Cold fucking jail, cold fucking lesson, but their faces were pretty fucking funny the next morning, come to find us wrapped around each other. Bikers paid our fine, though, so no hard feelings, and I did the chick on our next pass through town. Not on the pool table though.
I jump off the stage, head to the bar. Way the pissant manager's looking, shop'll be closed up soon. Most of the crowd's gone, a couple people standing near the doorway talking and smoking, finishing their beers. I wave a bill at him, ask for a pint of whiskey. He scowls at me but he pulls one out from under the bar. They usually have 'em handy for the house band. Usually we get 'em free too but this time he takes the money, not even a token protest. Fuckhead. It'll cost him next time when I cut the percentage.
The chick giggles, shrill. Christ, Billy. But the way he's feeling if it's got a cunt and two arms and two legs, he's not going to care. He's hornier than hell: let me jerk him off last night. Twice. Then this morning he started that shit again about needing a chick for back up vocals. Dream on, Billy. You want to take a groupie on tour a while, you do it, but don't fuck with the band, don't fuck with our business.
She giggles again and I have to look: Bill's got a hand inside her shirt and she's got a hand on his ass, inside his pants. Fucking cunt. Fucking whore. I slide up behind him, pin her hand between him and me, push. She tries to pull it out and I let her panic a second before I ease up the pressure, let her go. Billy laughs. Fucker feels my boner. So I give him a show, hump his ass a couple times, and he laughs again.
"Trish, Joe. Joe, Trish." Yeah, let's be polite to the fuck du jour.
I nod at her, she doesn't rate more than a grunt, and say in his ear, "The boys'll be ready at nine."
He's taking a swig of his beer, and he laughs at that, goes up his nose, and he snorts it all over Giggle-girl. And, what a surprise, she giggles. Again.
"I'm heading back to the room," I say over her noise. "Catch you later."
"You share a room?" she asks, little frown starting.
Bill's fast, always has been, always will be. Slides in closer to her, leans in, says, "We share everything," and tongues her ear. Slick. She tips her head, giggles again (Jesus Christ, Bill, that got real old about thirty seconds ago), and slips her hand back around to his ass, meets up with my dick halfway there. Billy doesn't give her a chance to pull away, just grabs her and kisses her again. Long, dirty, deep, and I put a hand on her ass, nice tight little ass, pull her in closer to him.
Out of the corner of my eye I see the manager throw his towel down on the bar, all disgusted, and I wonder for a second if I could get Billy to screw her on the bar stool, right here, right now, be worth it to see the fucker's face. Ha. Still, other stuff I can do: I move around behind her, bitch sandwich, rub up against her ass, suck her neck where Billy can see it. I hear him moan, oh yeah, I like that.
Manager's talking to the bouncer now; I slide my hand down to Billy's hip, give it a little pinch, means, "Let's go." He shoves his dick up against her a couple more times and then pulls away.
"Looks like they're closing up shop," he says with a grin, offers her the last of the beer. "Let's find somewhere else to party."
She swigs the beer, drains it, and says, all pretend coy, "I know a place a couple blocks from here."
Cold night, they don't seem to care. They stop every few feet to neck some more, Billy's already got the top of her pants undone. I smoke a cigarette, grab a tit every once in a while, handful of ass, hers, his, whatever I can reach. We pass the whiskey around once, twice.
Her place is over a convenience store, the kind with iron gates that cover the regular door and metal grilles on the windows. She unlocks two locks, unsteady hands, I have to help her with the second one, Billy's no help at all, he's working her zipper down, his too.
"Horny bastard," I say in his ear, swipe it with my tongue. He grins and pushes me through the door. I shove him back, pin him against the wall and he leans in to swipe back at my ear with his tongue and then shoves me away, goes after her again. I close the door, lock it up tight, follow them to her bedroom.
They're still trying to get undressed, Billy's got her half out of her clothes by now but she's not doing so hot, fumbling again, giggling more. I move behind him, pull his coat off, dump it on the floor with mine. Shirt next, she tracks that with her hands, little hands, little pink nails, God, Billy, next time I pick. He gets her bra off, finally - nice tits, I'll say that for her - and tries to head for the bed. I pull him back by his waistband, kick at his feet, and unzip him, all at the same time: boots have to come off before pants, it's not rocket science, Bill, it's just a no-buck fuck.
He reaches behind himself, grabs my waistband, pops the button, slides the zipper down, rubs his jean-covered ass against my dick. Loves to play that game, fuck with my head, tease me. I tease right back, grabbing his hip with one hand, let him pump his dick into my other hand. I push his jeans down, one handed, slide my dick into his crack and he tries to pull away, but I got a choke hold on his chicken, he's not going anywhere right now.
"Shit!" he says, laughing. "Let go, asshole."
"Only one asshole from where I'm standing, Bill."
He laughs again, different tone in his voice, and then I feel soft little hands on mine. Look over his shoulder and she's on her knees, mouth open already, pushing my hand away. Laugh it up, Bill, you think she can take you?
I let him go, too sudden, and he stumbles, falls, catches himself on the bed. She follows him on her hands and knees, crawls between his legs, starts trying to suck him again. Fucking moron, he'll never get the boots off now.
I sit down next to him, watch her go down on him, not too expert. He keeps popping out of her mouth, she can't get more than a third of him down her throat anyway, but she doesn't care, she's for sure zoned on something because she's still trying to giggle through it all. Billy looks up at me, a split second, rolls his eyes. I roll mine too, take pity on him, hold the heel of one boot and then the other so he can get them off.
He pulls her off him then, both of them laughing, and skins out of his jeans. She makes for his dick again but he pulls her up on the bed, pushes her down, spreads out on top of her, starts kissing her again. I feel like lighting a cigarette, not sure what his timetable is tonight.
She's moaning loud, he's got his mouth on one of her tits, and both her little pink and white hands are digging into his back, leaving wussy little red marks that'll fade in five or ten minutes. You have to bruise him, sweetheart, bruise him but good, mark him for real; he's not going to remember those little half-moons tomorrow. I grab his ass, squeeze it hard, and he lets her tit go with a little explosive noise, laughs again, twists around to look at me, kicks at me, then turns back to her, back to her mouth this time.
She's twisting under him, panting a little into his mouth, and he moves, says something in her ear, kisses her again. He's got her legs apart now and he's slip-sliding it into her, still got his tongue in her mouth, not giving her a chance to say anything. Learned that lesson at my knee: once you got it up inside there, nine times out of ten they won't say anything, or if they do it's just a token "maybe we shouldn't" or "don't come in me." She's not even going to try, just grabs his ass with both hands and shoves him harder inside her.
I'm right there watching, too, and he knows it, knows I'm watching his ass pumping, his dick slick and wet, moving in and out of her cunt, faster and faster, no noise from him except hard breathing and the wet noises he makes every time he moves out and then back in. She's moaning loud now, sounds like she's almost there, but he's there first.
Freaky thing is I'm close enough to see his balls tighten, I know he's going to come almost before he does, and I lean in a little, trying to see his dick jerk into her cunt, God fucking damn, and I almost come myself right then and there.
He rolls off her, almost right away, still breathing hard, but he knows what I want and he pushes himself up on one elbow to get a better view, and I'm already there between her legs almost before he's gone.
In time, too, his come is just starting to run out of her cunt, white and opaque. She's panting, moaning, twisting around, trying to pull him back. That's Bill, sweetheart, you have to get yourself off, full speed ahead and damn the torpedoes. I roll my eyes at him. “Too much of a fucking hurry tonight, Mr. Tallent?”
He laughs, leans in to kiss her again, play with her tits, and she moans and bucks up against my mouth. I lean in to suck her soft little clit first, feel it harden fast, hear Billy moan along with her. I swipe my tongue down one side of her cunt, then up the other, brace myself for the first taste of Billy on her, in her. Salty bitterness explodes on my tongue, makes my dick jerk, and he moans again for both of us. I look up fast and his dick's already fucking hard again, his fingers working up and down, already fucking leaking onto her hipbone: nothing gets him hard as fast as the thought of me licking his come out of some chick's cunt.
I grin at him, curve my tongue, and lean in to suck her cunt, loud slurping noise that makes his dick jerk hard before I stick my tongue up in her as far as it can reach. Fleshy taste of her, Billy, and then more of his come, all together, and I finally moan, muffled, against her, it all tastes so goddamn fucking good, like nothing else on earth.
Billy leans over and sucks one of her nipples into his mouth again, never taking his eyes off me; she jumps and arches up and I go after her clit again. She gets urgent under us for a few seconds and then I feel the pulses start further down and I shove my tongue up her cunt again to get all of Billy, all of her, at the same time, let her push it all down onto my tongue, into my mouth.
She moans one more time and then goes boneless underneath me; I look up and Billy's let go of her nipple and he's watching me, intent. I can't taste him any more, just her, and his dick is about three inches from my mouth. I look up at her and her eyes are closed; I lean over a little and swipe my tongue across the head of his dick.
Huge gasp from Billy, fucked his head over good there, and his fingers tighten down on his dick so hard that he makes a freaky kind of almost-yelp. I lick her cunt again, then suck the whole head of his dick into my mouth for a few seconds. I can still taste her on him and I suck harder.
"Jesus fucking Christ, Joe," he whispers, and he sounds half afraid and all the way gone.
We both look up at her at the same time but her eyes are still closed, she's not freaking or anything. I lean back in, lick her cunt again, suck a little, but his dick's so much better. . .
And he wants it: there's a fucking puddle on her hip where his dick is waiting, and while I'm leaning over again more moisture wells up. I lick her hip and then catch the rest on my tongue when I suck him in all the way, tasting her all the way down him, chasing his fingers away.
"Fucking a -"
I shift closer, let him out of my mouth with a cool popping sound, and say, "Shut up, Billiam," before I suck him up again, fast and deep.
He gives up then, knew he would, and one of his hands goes to the back of my head like he thinks he has to hold me there so he can fuck my mouth. He can think that, whatever, part of the key to Billy is letting him think he's driving, otherwise he gets all stubborn in a misty way. So I ignore his hand and concentrate on his dick. Got a good angle, able to deep throat him about every third stroke, and he tastes so fucking good, feels even better, the whole hot hard length of him in my mouth, all the way inside me right now, right here, and I have him all.
"Joe - " and there he is, plea and command and hoarse throaty voice, as he collapses onto his back and his other hand goes to my head and he pulls me down, hard, against him so his fucking hair is up my goddamn nose for a few seconds. Then he's bucking, coming harder and longer than he's ever come in jerk sessions, mouthful after mouthful of hot bitter come, almost fucking chokes me, wouldn't he like that? I can see those headlines: "Joe Strangled on Billy's Dick."
He doesn't let me go even after he's finished; still has my hair in a death grip. He shudders and thrusts up one more time, and unbelievably I taste one last spurt, that's Billy, always one more surprise around the bend, and the way he says my name that last time, pure fucking sex, pushes me right over. I close my eyes, jerking hard into my jeans, his dick still in my mouth, his come still on my tongue, no better way to do it than surrounded by the smell and the taste and the feel of Billy.
I forget about the chick until I realise I've got my head resting on her thigh; Billy's turned around in the bed so his head is a few inches from mine and he's laying there now, eyes closed, breathing hard still. I look up; she's fucking sleeping, passed out, thank fucking God. Look back at Billy and he's looking at me.
"Freak," he whispers.
I grin at him. "You loved it."
"Asshole. You're lucky she passed out. Luckier if she doesn't fucking remember."
"Fucking feeding the legend, baby."
"Joe, you're a dick." He pushes up on one elbow, looking at me way too seriously.
"This is news, Bill? You told me that years ago. You fucking named me, man. Get a new song."
He looks at me a few seconds longer, glances up at her again, and then leans in to . . . oh Jesus Christ . . . kiss me. First time he's ever done that and it makes me stone cold angry, pisses me off so bad: he's not supposed to want this, not supposed to know this. I want to bite him, taste blood, make him hurt too . . . but I can't get my fucking tongue out of his mouth.
I wake up and someone's sucking my dick. I'm confused for a few seconds, trying to remember where I am; we picked up that chick, went back to her place and did her, and then split for our motel room, right?
Then he shifts and I feel a rasp of stubble and realise it's Billy.
He's not sure what he's doing; he's sucking just the end of it, a little tentatively, but the realisation hits me about the same time as the sensation and sends me over the edge just like that.
He makes a strangled sound and I definitely hear him spit; makes me grin. Gives me a few to get my shit back together.
"What the hell are you doing, Mr. Tallent?"
It's so dark that I feel him sit up, can't see him except as a little more darkness looming over me. He doesn't answer right away though. Fucker.
"What the hell were you doing, Bill?"
"Shut the fuck up," he says, but there's no spark in his voice. He just sounds tired.
I lean up on an elbow, scrabble for cigarettes, the lighter. I light two, give one to him. He shifts further up the bed. We shared a bed for years even before we started messing around, we're used to this.
"You like it," he says after half a cigarette. "I didn't know why."
"You never tasted yourself when you whacked off?"
"You like it," he says again.
"You didn't? Is that a problem for you, Bill?"
He sighs. "Joe."
"William. You didn't answer me."
He finishes the cigarette before he says anything else, stubs it out in the ashtray.
"Guess I wanted to know why," he says, and his voice is really really quiet.
"Makes sense," I say, stubbing out my own cigarette.
"Do you know why?" he asks.
Freak. Freaky, laying here in the dark with him, like we're not Joe and Billy at all but just two other people, just talking. Talking about stuff, stuff I don't know, stuff he doesn't know, feeling our way in the dark.
Yeah, I know why, Billy. "Maybe I'm fucked up."
He snorts. "No. Really?"
"Fucker."
He lights another cigarette. "I liked . . . I liked watching you. I don't know if it's your mouth or your - " he laughs, a short sharp sound, "- your mohawk, it looks so fucking weird. It's . . . so fucked up."
I pull the lighter out of his hand and he moves his fingers up the side of my hand for a few seconds. "We're both fucked up, Billy. Doesn't mean it's not fun games, doesn't mean it's not a good time."
"Fun games," he says softly. "That chick . . . you wanted her and me. You wanted me more than her, Joe, you didn't even fuck her. Is that a fun game?"
"You were playing too, Bill."
His cigarette tip glows orange in the dark. "Yeah," he says at last. "Yeah, I was."
"Still are."
"Fuck you."
"Oh, there we go, that works."
Three seconds later his fist connects with my stomach. Hard; part of the game is we don't pull punches, not any kind.
"Oof! Ow! Asshole."
"You didn't answer me," he says. "Is it a fun game for you, Joe?"
"If it wasn't I wouldn't do it, Bill. Happy now?"
"No."
"Prick. Is it fun games for you?"
He hesitates and then says, "If it's just games . . . "
"What the hell else would it be, Bill?" Goddamn smart fucker, I hate him sometimes. "Just because I like it doesn't mean you have to."
"I might like it if it wasn't . . . all this too. I don't fucking know."
"You don't want to know."
"Yeah, that's why I'm sitting here in bed with you trying to have a real conversation," he says, and the fact that he doesn't sound pissed worries me more than the fact that he gets up and starts fumbling in the dark for his clothes.
"Get your ass back in this bed. That's the truth, William Boisy, you don't want to know."
"If I didn't want to know why the hell would I - "
"Suck my dick?"
He sucks in a breath . . . but he sits down again and I hear whatever he picked up fall back to the floor.
"Yeah," he says at last, faraway voice. "We keep . . . with the chicks. I thought it'd be less, not more, and it's more than it was and you . . . I can't figure you out, Joe."
Without thinking, I just open my mouth and say it. "It's always been more than it was for us, Bill."
Another long silence; all I can hear is my heart pounding in my ears.
"I guess . . . yeah. I guess it has." His voice is barely a whisper. He finally moves, turns around and slides down next to me, skin against skin.
"I still can't figure you out," he says after a while, but the spark is back in his voice.
Join the goddamned club, William Boisy. Join the goddamned fucking club. "Keeps you honest, Billy."
"Freak."
"Asshole."
"Fag."
"Fagboy."
He turns his head and I feel his breath on my cheek. "Cocksucker," he whispers, trying hard not to laugh.
"Dick licker."
"Joe . . . "
"Yeah, Billiam?"
"I hate you."
"Me too, Bill." Me too.
oOo
You're monochrome delirious, you're nothing that you seem
I'm drowning in your vanity, your life is a disease
You're dirty and you're sweet, you know you're everything to me
"Dizzy," Goo Goo Dolls