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. |
Leigh Limon would ask Beck to tell her about how he got with Thom Yorke. She would ask him while they were together in bed, while she had him at her mercy. Beck would be gentle about it. He’d give it serious consideration, he’d tell her what she wanted to know not only for her own pleasure, but because he’d spent a great deal of time thinking it over, himself.
That night at the after party, Thom had asked without any words that Beck return the favor from the night before; and while Beck was too traumatized the night before to do anything more than they’d already done, he’d had enough time to mull it over since then to be curious now. “Show Jonny what you’ve learned,” Thom told him gently, unsure which of them he wanted to kiss. Beck chuckled, both sheepish and curious, but mostly just drunk— and he found himself surprised by how interested he was in wanting to do what he’d learned again. “All right, Jonny G,” he said, tapping one hand to the beat in his mind, “your friend Thom, ah, showed me some stuff—” For the greater part of his life, Jonny would’ve given anything to hear Thom referred to that way. Thom had never felt quite his own, and whatever transpired in the past several minutes appeared too fantastical to last beyond the confines of that night. Jonny became so consumed by the words your friend Thom that he didn’t really notice what else it was the others were saying, his head was swimming, he didn’t mind whatever they wanted to do after that. He became very concerned about hiding his smile, he hid behind his hair, behind his hand, he wasn’t fully there when Beck asked his assistance in leading Thom unto the floor. Beck wasn’t really sure how to go about it, either; he found it difficult to focus now that he was drunk, everything became a matter of deep speculation when he tried to figure it out, then profound enlightenment when he finally did. It wasn’t until he was on his knees and working the bind to Thom’s belt that Jonny came to, and then awoke with a start to just what they were doing. He fought uselessly for calm, because his heart started going unnervingly fast, how was it that this guy who only knew Thom for a few days at most could be doing this with him? And why was it that Jonny, who’d known Thom far back as he could remember, who’d invested himself so carefully for so many years in not acting daft and not screwing it up for all eternity by saying or doing the wrong thing, had never dreamt of getting anywhere near this close? Did Beck not realize what he was getting so freely? But it were Thom Jonny was really upset with. It was Thom’s fault, for being so insensitive and careless;Jonny thought he loved and despised him both at once. There was no need to ask; clearly if this was what Beck was doing now, then it was something with which he and Thom had some mutual familiarity. It was more than snogging, and something Jonny knew people did indiscriminately sometimes, but with which he decidedly disliked thinking of Thom being involved. Thom’s fucking the third act, Jon, he remembered Ed’s words from the night before, and it occurred to him it was probably true after all. Jonny didn't like thinking of Thom just snogging someone indiscriminately, either. There was something very cold about it, unsettling, that shook the comforting familiarity he had in being close to someone. Jonny liked Thom, and he liked Beck, but this made him feel very vulnerable and small. He knew he had to stay. If he left, he suspected they’d get on dangerously well without him. He tried to remind himself how Beck had said he and Thom had a thing, and wondered if it still would appear that way the next morning, when Thom would be sober and undoubtedly hanging out with Colin again. For a drunk dude, Beck was nearly as self-conscious as Jonny— but about totally different stuff. He wasn’t the sort of guy who got drunk and made out with people he didn’t know. He didn’t experiment with other dudes just to see what it was like— though now that he’d tried it out, he thought it might be something he liked. Deep down, he was introverted, he liked to think of things like love. He was open-minded enough to give things a shot, but bound enough by discipline not to fly off entirely. He understood well enough what he couldn’t give up, what he never could talk about and never admit, but there really were so many things he wanted to love even outside what he was born into. He didn’t like being intimate with people he didn’t know; but he liked Thom, and he liked Jonny. No one had told him yet that liking them wasn’t okay, and maybe it was because he wasn’t important enough yet. No one had told him yet that liking Leigh wasn’t okay, either. He grinned sheepishly at Jonny from under his hair, his long fingers working at Thom’s fly, clumsily, taking too long with the button. “It’s like this,” Jonny helpfully said, but he didn’t dare touch. He was jealous of course, but too profoundly terrified; even if he’d partway accepted that what they were doing was real, he was light years from undoing Thom’s trousers. He watched with a great deal of concern, large hand over his mouth, going back and forth between looking away and looking back, because both felt wrong. He didn’t dare ask what exactly are we doing, because he was afraid of what he already knew the answer would be, and, far from glad, he was really very uncomfortable. There came the familiar clink of metal as Thom’s belt came undone, Jonny looked on with mute horror, not daring to meet Thom’s gaze. He watched instead as his hips came off the carpet, then came a rustle of fabric as Beck pulled the jeans down Thom’s legs, shoes still on; they got stuck at his feet, both Thom and Beck laughed, Thom sat up in order to take off his shoes.There was the uneasy feeling of not knowing exactly what to do, and not knowing whether you weren’t okay for not doing anything because you didn’t know what to do. When Jonny looked again, he noticed Thom was not only very near naked, but he seemed entirely comfortable that way. He wore what appeared to be light green boxers, he had just a little bit of hair on his legs, and it wasn’t that Jonny had never seen him like that, but in the past it was never a preamble to anything else— “You’re supposed to show Jonny,” Thom murmured against Beck’s mouth, gracelessly kicking his trousers off his right foot. Beck snorted even while they kissed, trying to fish his hair out of his mouth. “I can’t teach this, I’m not good at this.” It occurred to Jonny Beck was being defensive. He didn’t want to be accused of being good at this, because that would mean he was— Jonny felt a bout of relief. “It’s all right,” he said, “Show me, I want to learn.” It wasn’t until the words were irreversibly out in the open that he’d realized he wasn’t just comforting Beck— Thom could hear him, too. “That is— not that I want to, just…” Thom didn’t think much of what Jonny’s words could mean either way, Thom never did, he wouldn’t laugh at Jonny for fancying him because he didn’t care enough about how Jonny felt to laugh. That’s how it seemed, anyway, and it wasn’t like Jonny could hold it against Thom, because, worst of all, it was entirely innocent. It wasn’t Thom’s fault that he just didn’t care. It didn’t matter how many different instruments Jonny could easily pick up, and how precociously well he was able to get a hold of them— he was still Colin’s little brother, and Thom still did whatever he did with this American guy he didn’t even really know before he ever touched Jonny at all. Beck looked up with visible relief, however, when Jonny offered that he wanted to learn, because there it was— Beck wasn’t gay, he was just showing Jonny, because Jonny asked, and they were friends. He leaned close to Jonny, nudging him amicably on the arm, I’ve never actually done this before, he whispered, feeling both defensive and embarrassed about that. Jonny was sober enough not to ask what exactly this was, but he was very concerned about what they had done. Thom, himself, never quite grasped the meaning of shame. It was what would have him scowl at magazine photographers and speak his mind freely on stage and TV, he was aware of the innocence in both Beck and Jonny as they deliberated over how to go about handling him. He could’ve made it easy for them and pulled his boxers off, but he wanted to enjoy watching them at it. He was visibly hard beneath the fabric; Beck had found it curiously pleasant, because there was a comforting familiarity about it, he was just another dude, and dudes horsed around all the time. Jonny never quite relaxed from before; he’d never seen Thom completely naked, and had never fully admitted to himself that he wanted to. They’re drunk, he told himself, they won’t realize you want to. They might not even remember the next day… Jonny had always been infinitely gentle with his instruments. He was very careful with his hands, he’d handled Beck’s turntable with more attention than Beck had, himself— but he’d never been so careful as he’d been that night with Thom. His arms shook, he fought for composure to no avail, long fingers gently taking hold of the elastic to Thom’s boxers. He licked his lips, but they went dry again after that; he met Thom’s gaze sheepishly from under his hair. He felt compelled to criticize him, just to break the tension, to tell him green was a stupid color— but he wasn’t certain they were green, because he was red-green colorblind. “Please lift your legs,” he mumbled without looking at Thom, without looking at his body when he slid the fabric off his hips; he could feel his skin beneath his fingers, warm and human, really just another guy— He was infinitely gentle when he got them off his feet. He put them away on the floor very carefully, nervously brushing his hair as he turned to look back, only because he had to, because there was nowhere else he could get away with looking. Thom appeared pleased, like whatever game they were playing had finally begun; he pulled Jonny in by the arm without a second thought and kissed him, too much too soon, again probably because he didn’t really care. Jonny struggled to keep up, and despite feeling both uncomfortable and bitter, he succumbed helplessly to Thom’s ministrations— because even if Thom didn’t care, Jonny found he had wanted to touch him so much, he was willing to undergo even this for the opportunity to be intimate with him. I would be more careful with him than anyone ever was, he thought. I would take better care of him than anyone had. He was glad for Beck’s company, because no one had called him something like my man Jonny G before, no one else had pointed out that Thom was his friend. No one had listened with so much attention to what Jonny had to say. He felt more comfortable in Beck’s company than he had in Thom’s, but you never felt exactly good around the person you fancied. He was still fighting for calm while Thom kissed him, when Thom was on about Beck showing him again, voice breathy and stifled against Jonny’s lips; before Jonny could stop himself, he asked, “Show me what?” He knew even before it completely registered that here were famous last words. What did you lot do? Beck’s protests that it’s not like he’d done it so much that he was in proper form to instruct were confirmation enough that this was something of which Jonny ought to be jealous. He was desperate to ask Thom why he’d done all this with Beck and not him— “I don’t need to be shown, I know what to do,” he lied, aware he could be guessing at best at whatever it was Thom wanted to do. At that, again Beck appeared tremendously relieved. Thanks, man, he whispered. Jonny really was all right. But Thom wasn’t going to make it easy. He already was protesting, pulling them both in, “No, that’s not what I asked.” “Dude, who cares what you asked?” Beck laughed, and before he remembered to feel embarrassed, he added, “You’re getting all the attention, you don't get to complain.” Thom appeared to consider, then finally approved; fair enough, he seemed to say, and while Jonny was once terrified that his bit about presumably knowing what to do would undergo scrutiny, he now found himself somehow offended that it didn't. He must be frightfully transparent, he knew, when he met Thom’s gaze, Jonny’s hand trembling and careful— Unmistakably virginal on his cock— He’d forgotten he had no idea what to do. He would do whatever Thom told him. He didn’t care if they knew he was inexperienced, or if he blatantly screwed up; he only watched Thom’s expression, aware and unbothered that he was reading more into it than there probably was. “What did you lot do last night?” he asked, and Thom’s eyes danced as he scanned Jonny’s face. He’d meant to respond, but succumbed to Jonny’s hand on him. I fucked him was what he’d intended to say, but now it seemed purely vulgar, something with shock value Thom never intended; even though he was still rather drunk, Thom understood Jonny asked because the answer really mattered. His gaze wavered between Jonny and Beck, with sentiment that appeared very much like humility. Thom would remember the importance of what it was to be adored. He remembered what it was when he admired Stipey, how it crushed him to think his idols might show him disdain; how superficial and cruel it was to hurt those who liked you, because even if they didn’t strike you as necessarily tactful or nice, they really had meant well— No matter how much of a right tit Thom basically was, Jonny couldn’t help but like him when he smiled like he did then, like sunlight, he kissed Jonny playfully, on the mouth, then his cheek, then he leaned in to kiss Beck and missed and stumbled and laughed as he righted himself; “All right,” Thom said while Beck helped him straighten, “I’d really like both your company." There was no arrogance there; it was simple and amicable, and it came in a way that made both Jonny and Beck relax into the fact that they were just a bunch of guys, just messing around, and it wasn’t something intended to leave either of them hurt. But things always start out that way.(On to chapter 12)
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