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Thom/Beck	By : VinylTap Category: Singers/Bands/Musicians > Radiohead Views: 2950 -:- Recommendations : 0 -:- Currently Reading : 0
Disclaimer: I do not know Beck or any of the members of Radiohead. This story is a work of fiction, and I make no money or profit from it.

Chapter List
- 9
- 10
- 11
The air was electric with something; after Thom had kissed Jonny, he went completely still, as well— Beck watched with subdued curiosity.
There was something forgotten they’d not realized had shifted in place. The gravity of waiting potential had flickered intangible all around, heavier than either of them could’ve known.
Thom rose very slowly to his feet, hands still on Jonny’s face, too tight, he walked him slowly backward to the wall. The difference in height between them was obvious then, and while there was no question as to Thom’s seniority, the insistence was undeniable on both their parts.
Thom’s entire body pressed hard against Jonny, whose hands remained uselessly frozen midair, as though the thinking part of him had become overwhelmed with what he should have known. Beck became aware he was watching something important— but when you’re drunk, you get that feeling a lot.
I’ve wanted to fuck you since I were fifteen, Jonny never said so outright, but he felt it everywhere in his body— and it would be a dirty lie, because he’d wanted to fuck Thom since long before that.
The guys you really wanna do—
This was something else of which Beck became aware. It didn’t matter that Thom was a guy; he had the kind of cool about him that was magic, and, watching him then, you could tell you hadn’t seen the half of it yet.
Thom had all but flattened Jonny against the wall in a prolonged moment of drunken persistence, both pressed completely into each other almost without moving. They relinquished after that with a strained echo of breath, low rustle of fabric, Beck caught a flash of black as Jonny’s hair swayed—
What happened after that was understandably primal; there came a struggle where neither tried to get away, nothing felt better than each other, nothing was ever so nice as the unmistakably hard insistence of flesh; it appeared neither yet fully understood just what it was between them.
They had impatiently at each other for several moments before emerging disoriented, regarding each other with childlike confusion after that.
Thom was a creature comprised of emotion. It was something exhausting and unrelenting at times, which made him explosive and difficult to endure. He got violently angry. He’d fall in love, in love like it washed him over and left him devastated, like he was willing to destroy everything he was for the sheer power of what it had done. He could not understand what it was that made him up.
Something like that, on the whole, was too much. It wasn't pleasant— but moments like these were intensely pleasurable, even if you knew what you’d suffer for them after the fact. There was something about Thom and Jonny that even Thom and Jonny didn’t really understand.
It was a good thing Thom was drunk; he chuckled while tugging at Jonny’s shirt, trying clumsily to get it off him, and Jonny went suddenly shy. It was different when they were writing on his body before, there was an excuse for it then, no matter how transparent. Jonny was painfully sober and aware entirely of the only reason Thom was gripping his clothes— it was an unbearable combination of anticipation and alarm that had his whole body going in fight or flight, he found himself terrified, he was aware Thom must feel the trembling in his limbs and the way his heart was going—
His eyes met Beck’s in miserable pleading, infatuation was really such a wretched thing—
Beck regarded him curiously, with the sort of philosophical air you only take on when you’re really drunk; “Yeah,” he said without being asked, “I was freaked out, too.”
Thom withdrew his head slowly from the crook of Jonny’s neck, still out of breath, and turned to look at Beck, then at Jonny. “You scared, mate?” he asked.
It came so genuinely delicate, so soft and filled with concern, that Jonny forgot to get defensive. His dark eyes scanned Thom’s face for several moments while he tried to decide on a response.
“A little,” he said.
“A little,” Thom grinned, he chuckled gently and leaned in to kiss him again. “Want me to go get Coz?”
Jonny laughed at that; he shook his head. “No, no.”
“No?”
“No.”
“Beck, what are you doing?”
“Drawing, on, like—myself—”
“Drawing what?”
“Robots.”
“Let me see—” It was Jonny who spoke, still within Thom’s grasp; Beck rose slowly to his feet, all of his clothes too baggy for his bony legs and arms. He put the pen between his teeth and lifted his shirt so they could see his abdomen, where his art really wasn’t that bad.
“That’s very nice,” Thom remarked, and Beck chuckled, pen in his mouth.
One arm still around Jonny, Thom pulled Beck in by the sleeve, and then laughed as he began clumsily tugging his top off. Beck started helping without taking out the pen, and Jonny reached in a useless attempt to remove it while both Beck and Thom tried to pull the shirt over Beck's head.
“Thom, Thom, stop—” Jonny said, “Wait, he’s still got—”
Beck waited patiently while Jonny unraveled his collar from around the pen, then properly pulled his shirt off. He grinned sheepishly at both of them after the fact, hair still ruffled, and Jonny stared at him funny while he tried to smooth it out. He’d almost forgot his own embarrassment when then Thom piped up, “Right then, Jonny, you’re next.”
“What about you?” Jonny asked.
Thom considered; “All right, I’m next.”
He pulled off his own shirt without much thought and tossed it to the floor, and Beck laughed as he leaned into him after that. They were already kissing when Jonny began to tug at his own top, unsure whether leaving it on or taking it off was more wrong. Thom and Beck were still laughing stupidly into each other by the time he was pulling it shyly over his head, and they both began to take notice very slowly.
Beck’s lip still clung to Thom’s when he slowly turned to look, and Thom turned to look after that.
Jonny didn’t like being looked at. He flushed, absently hugging himself with his arms, looking aside to where the walls met each other at the corner of the room, then to the doorway from there.
Thom hadn’t said anything yet, but he regarded Jonny with vast amusement, really very intrigued, very content. It was a pleasant surprise, it felt both thrilling and sweet, that all along apparently Jonny had looked so good—
“Jonny, let’s kiss again,” Thom sang, he already was smiling, and Jonny flushed even more, lips going parted, staring oddly back.
Beck’s head tilted sideward as he tried to read the stuff they’d written on Jonny’s abdomen before, struggling to make out the words which were now largely illegible smudges of blue. Jonny looked down to his own abdomen, eyebrows quirking at how the scribbles stopped just beneath his ribs, as far up as Thom and Beck had got the fabric of his shirt while they were on their knees.
He wanted to kiss Thom very much. But he couldn’t get himself to do it, he was terrified, and he felt suddenly naked like that without his shirt. His eyes rolled slowly along Thom’s stomach, he looked just like any guy, but also he was Thom— and that Thom looked like any guy seemed terribly absurd.
“You guys have a thing,” Beck concluded, both hands out as to demonstrate, and it was apparent how long his fingers were;
“We’ve got a thing?” Jonny repeated, and Beck nodded expertly now, “Yeah, there’s this, like— thing...”
Thom laughed, because he could see Jonny fighting to hold back a smile. Even with Jonny's hand over his mouth, it was apparent he was grinning, and he looked away, his dark hair swinging a bit.
“C’mere, Jon-Jon,” Thom said, and he pulled him in by the arm, despite Jonny’s half-assed protests, they were laughing into each other when finally Thom got him into proper position.
Jonny definitely trembled when they kissed, but smiled as well, his hands wandered with unnatural care over Thom’s naked arms; he couldn’t prevent it when Thom pressed into him hard, hot skin to hot skin and muscle and bone, the tightening human hold that made it inescapable but real, which made him feel both frightened and unmistakably wanted, he found himself fighting despite himself, fighting to hold back just as tightly;
The air was humid and shallow between them, they gazed at each other from across the small space of breath;
“Jonny, you’re hard.”
It came innocent, curious; almost a question.
Jonny had a bit of a lisp.
“Yess.”
He watched Thom silently as he felt his hand brush from outside the front of his trousers.
“For me?” Thom asked, barely a whisper.
Jonny’s dark eyes glittered in the low light of the ceiling fixture.
“Yess,” he said.
Beck hadn’t realized he was touching himself until they were kissing again; there was something he’d never understood so plainly as now, but he wasn’t sure what.
(On to chapter 11)
- 9
- 10
- 11
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Thom/Beck