Disclaimer: The characters do not belong to me, and I'm quite happy with that. Michael Turner, Noel S. Baker, Bruce McDonald and lots more folks and corporate entities have prior claim. They are used and abused here without permission.
Notes: Another super short bit that takes place years before the movie.
NO SPOILERS. In case you're unfamiliar with the film, Hugh Dillon
played Joe, and Callum Keith Rennie played Billy.
Thanks to my lovely and talented beta readers Nicole, Melissa, and
Mouse for making this a better story and for making me a better writer.
Thanks to Zen for planting the seed with a well-timed slashy pic or two.
;-)
For Killa
---------------------
"Fuck this." Joe dropped the microphone to the floor, unplugged his
guitar, and stalked off the stage. If the fucking equipment wasn't
going to work right, he wasn't going
to sing. The dumpy little club wasn't even half full anyway.
Stupid hick town. All he wanted to do was go back to Vancouver where
the audiences were more enthusiastic. Unlike these mindless
sheep, the crowds there made some noise, shook the floor, and fed the frenzied
insanity of a rock and roll show.
"What are you doing? We've got a show to do, Joe." He hadn't even heard the guitarist's light footsteps coming up behind him, but Billy's voice gave him a little jolt of unsurprised satisfaction. He opened the door to the dressing room, waited until Billy followed him, and then slammed it closed behind them. Lifting the strap over his head, Joe laid his guitar on the clean end of the table and grabbed a bottle from the cluttered end.
"It's a fucking waste of time. The crowd's a bunch of fuckin' zombies, and the sound system sucks. I'm not going on." Slouching in a chair, Joe drained half of his beer in one swallow, trying to wash away some of the bitter taste of his disgust. "We've got a record now. We deserve better than this shit."
"What are the rest of us supposed to do? You're the only real
singer we've
got, Joe. You gotta come back and finish the set." Billy's
blue eyes were starting
to plead with him, giving Joe a shot of pure electricity straight to
his groin.
Feeling a heady rush of power from having Billy wanting something from *him* for a change, Joe narrowed his eyes and said, "What'll you give me?"
"What do you want?" Billy didn't roll his eyes, but Joe could tell he wanted to, and that just made it more fun. He got a kick out of Billy's reluctance to take what he wanted. Joe certainly had no such problem.
"What do you think?" Joe smirked and unfastened his jeans with one hand, while taking a leisurely sip of his beer. He watched Billy visibly contemplate refusing, knowing that he wouldn't, *couldn't* say no. Not this time. Joe didn't have to push because Billy wanted it as much as he did. He couldn't admit it out loud, but his body language told the story. He stood with his hip cocked, head bowed ever so slightly, his tongue wetting his bottom lip every few seconds. His fingers twitched as he lifted his hand to the back of his head in a habitual gesture of exasperation, frustration...surrender.
After a moment, Billy locked the door with a compliant sigh while Joe silently exhaled the breath he hadn't realized he was holding. He didn't mind having to coerce Billy-- as long as it worked. Crossing the tiny room in two steps, Billy lowered himself to his knees as Joe pulled out his rapidly hardening erection. Joe set the bottle on the table, freeing his other hand to tangle in his friend's spiky hair. The thick yellow strands seemed to wrap around his fingers, holding him captive. Not that he wanted to be anywhere but right here in this moment.
Billy's mouth engulfed him in heat, taking in Joe's cock slowly and surely. The satisfaction burned away, replaced by need, hard and sharp in his gut. Joe moaned loudly when Billy's wet lips bumped into his fingers still wrapped around the base of his cock. Joe released his grip on his own flesh and rubbed the backs of his fingers over Billy's cheek as it moved with the steady rhythm of his sucking. Such an unlikely display of tenderness left Joe staring at his hand in bemusement before Billy's skill pulled his attention back where it belonged.
Billy was so *good* at this. He knew how to play Joe just like that fucking guitar that he handled so well. Every move, every breath, every touch of his tongue...Billy knew exactly what he was doing to Joe. Billy knew the pleasure burning through him. Joe could feel the knowledge radiating from Billy's mouth and hands right through his own skin, and knowing that Billy was getting off on it set him off too.
The rush of power he'd felt earlier returned even stronger, entwined with a savage satisfaction, and it was all Joe could do not to ram his cock all the way down Billy's throat. Some instinct kept him from doing so, because he needed Billy to sing backup.
'Anything for the good of the band,' was his last coherent thought as a wave of pleasure hit him, and he came in long explosive bursts inside his friend's hungry mouth and down his rapidly swallowing throat. With a deep moan, Joe petted Billy's hair, not unlike the pat given to a dog that's just performed a difficult trick. As the guitarist licked him clean and tucked him back inside his clothes, Joe shook his head at the lengths they were both willing to go to in pursuit of what they wanted. And yet he enjoyed it, the chase, the games, the indulgence he felt for Billy. He hoped Billy never caught on to this brief moment of weakness Joe usually had after he came. Billy'd become unmanageable, and Joe *had* to manage-- everyone and everything.
Billy stood up and grabbed the beer and finished it off. He set the bottle down with a snap and licked his lips, sending one last tingle through Joe's body. "*Now* will you get your contrary ass back out on stage?"
Joe slipped on his customary smirk, covering his thoughts as smoothly as ever. Feeling as sated and relaxed as he ever allowed himself, he grabbed up his guitar and replied, "Oh yeah, sure. Anything for the band."
This time Billy did roll his eyes, but Joe thought there was a bit of a smile hiding behind the clenched teeth. "Why does everything have to be so fucking difficult with you? Huh, Joe? Can you tell me that?"
"You like it. You know you do." Joe threw his arm around his friend's shoulder, and they went back out to where John and Pipefitter were standing at the edge of the stage, debating what to do next and trying to placate the increasingly disgruntled manager of the club.
Completely ignoring the man who would pay them, Joe punched the drummer on the shoulder. "Get out there, Pipe, and count us in. What's next on the list?"
"Who The Hell."
"Perfect. Let's do it." He nodded at Billy and mouthed,
"Later." He'd either make it up to Billy or get more for himself,
depending on how he felt at the time. It was all good...in Joe's
opinion anyway. He didn't care much about Billy's opinion.
The End.