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Thom/Beck - Part 2	By : VinylTap Category: Singers/Bands/Musicians > Radiohead Views: 1975 -:- Recommendations : 0 -:- Currently Reading : 0
Disclaimer: I do not know Beck or any of the members of Radiohead, Sonic Youth, or REM. This story is a work of fiction, and I make no money or profit from it.

Chapter List
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Justin had one hand really tight on Channing’s mouth. Too tight, in Chan’s opinion, but not in Justin’s— because all it would take would be one sound out of Chan, and undoubtedly Beck would recognize his brother straight away, and know he and Justin had been up that whole time. Waiting, still there by the window— listening in like a couple of stalkers.
You’d be stupid not to listen, though, Beck was really going at it with Thom Yorke. That’s what it sounded like, anyway, they were definitely kissing, they talked to each other, not exactly dirty, but close to dirty enough that you felt guilty listening in.
“There?” Beck had asked, they were just outside the window, just by the door; there came the rustle of fabric, the unmistakable clink of a belt; Thom replied, “Just there—”
Muffled breath after that, something decidedly too intimate to listen in on; Beck said, “I should charge you for that.”
Cheekily laden with sarcasm, but too vulnerably undone; Thom replied, “Yeah?” and then, “You’d best make it good.”
“Yeah, don’t worry about that,” Beck said, you have no idea what a whore this past year has made of me.
But you can’t make it in the music business without whoring yourself out at least a little.
Thom knew that, too.
They went dangerously quiet after that, until Thom’s voice came audibly fragile, he said, “Fuck me, you weren’t kidding.”
“No, I wasn’t.”
“Where did you—”
“Never mind that. Wanna come inside? I still owe you from last time.”
“You still owe me?”
You could tell by Thom’s voice he was smiling.
“Yeah, I…” Beck was reaching uselessly for more eloquent words. “Man, just come in, all right.”
Thom laughed then, like he was drunk— but that was just the way he laughed. “And how much would you charge me for that?”
Shy, quiet smiles. “For you, that’s free.”
“Holy shit,” Channing couldn’t help whispering aloud, despite Justin’s hand on him; this was too much.
“Dumbass, move,” Justin whispered harshly, they tried to scramble out of the way, but they were too slow— the door to the trailer came abruptly ajar, Thom and Beck still kissing , fumbling blindly to make their way in and then to get the door closed.
Channing’s eyes were enormous, but Justin stared, too; they’d heard about this, but to actually see it—
Maybe one year before, you’d think Thom were in charge, because he was a little older, or because he didn’t have qualms about getting with a dude. Now, though, neither had the upper hand. They both were aware of each other’s potential, and it really were humbling to both. Intimidating and fascinating all the while, they both felt it, let me touch you—
“We gotta be quiet,” Beck mouthed, Thom had him pressed to the wall, both wrists restrained, “I’ve got two other guys in here, so unless you like an audience—”
“Maybe I do.”
“Fuck, I bet you do.”
Justin’s hand was so tight on Chan’s mouth it would leave marks. They couldn’t leave now even if they wanted— they’d make too much noise and give themselves away. Chan had one hand on Justin’s wrist in a half-assed attempt to get his hand off, but he wasn’t really trying. He was stroking himself from outside his trousers, and Justin wasn’t even gonna stop him, cause who could blame him, really.
“Sorry, do— you want anything— to drink—” Beck muttered even as he pulled impatiently at Thom’s arm, he’d got him most of the way to the sofa, and Thom murmured, “Yeah. No. Probably later.” Somewhere in the back of his mind, Beck was aware he ought to be a better host. It was late, anyway, they ought to sit down and have a beer, or coffee, or something—
“Turn around,” Thom said, and Beck replied, “No, you turn around.”
“Like this?”
“No, like—”
“This all right?”
“Yeah, okay. Wh— what are you—”
“Taking off me belt.”
“Oh. All right. Cool.”
He’d forgot how chill Thom had been about this. Really such the good guy. He’d somehow made Beck feel inexperienced all over again, just by virtue of his effortless courage. Beck had him just at the edge of the couch, waiting dumbly for Thom to unravel his belt, edging his thighs apart with one knee.
“Oi, let me get it off first.”
Beck hadn’t realized how impatient he’d been. Thom’s hair was short now, Beck pressed up to the nape of his neck, he was so warm—
“Touch yourself,” he asked, uncertain whence the words came even as he spoke; “So I can see.”
“You can’t see anything in the dark,” Thom’s laugh came low and a little tense, because he already was at it. Beck’s arms slid round his abdomen from behind, he really couldn’t see very well, but he could tell well enough Thom was at it. There came the unmistakable motion every guy knew, the familiar rhythm of breath; Channing watched slack-jawed, overcome with reverence for his brother, he wouldn’t have really believed it if he'd not seen it firsthand.
Justin remained frozen with one hand on Chan’s mouth, aware they ought to get the hell out of there but aware just as well there was no way to go unnoticed. This without doubt was something to which they ought not bear witness.
Beck’s hair slid over Thom’s shoulder, head buried in his neck, arms clasped undiscernibly over his front; whether they both were at it or if it were just Thom touching himself, you couldn’t really see, but Thom had to grip at the sofa with one hand, nearly falling, because of how Beck moved against him from behind. Clothes still on.
“You still not got a proper bed,” Thom breathed, voice humbled with the effect of his own ministrations, and Beck whispered back, “Told you I’ve got two other guys here, I can’t take you in the bedroom.”
“You not staying with the rest of your band?”
“Different trailer.”
“Princess.”
“Yeah, shut up.”
With that, Beck’s hand came on Thom’s under his boxers, he held his breath—
“You’re so hard,” he whispered, humbled somehow, “Fuck, that’s so nice—”
Thom’s laugh came low, his fingers brushing on Beck’s on his member with something like good-natured affection. “Spoken like a proper fag,” he said, not having spoken American slang in some time.
“Just for you, man.” And my bassist. And my brother. And probably a bunch of other dudes.
“Rubbish.”
Like it were some dark secret he’d hidden first from himself, then from anyone whose business it really wasn’t.
“All right, then— I won’t say it’s nice.”
“That’s all right, you can say it. I’m wanking for you, after all.”
“Just for me?”
“Yeah.” And my bassist. And my guitarist. And for Stipey, every night in my mind.
“Bullshit.”
Thom turned around, still in Beck’s arms— and even in the dark, you could see he was smiling like sunshine. “Just for you right now, anyway.”
Neither of them really knew what came over them. They were kissing with restless agitation, Thom still touching himself, Beck still touching Thom, his hand on his.
“Right here, then? On the couch again?” Thom asked.
“yeah, right here.”
“Next time, I’ll take you to my place. I’ll do it to you proper, on a bed.”
“I’m doing it to you.”
“Then get on with it already.”
Beck stopped partway, both impatiently annoyed. He regarded Thom’s face in the darkness. “You want me to do this. You want me to do it to you.”
“Yeah,” Thom said like it were any old thing.
Somehow, it got Beck to flush. “You really— yeah, okay, cool. Cool.”
They had their hands on each other, gracelessly fumbling with clothes when Thom stopped partway. He gazed at Beck breathlessly, hair disheveled, collar mostly undone.
“What is it?” Beck asked, partway to grabbing the back of his own shirt.
“Reckon we’ll be walked in on?”
Silence.
The bony framework of Beck’s shoulders went slightly up, then down with breath. “I dunno,” he said honestly. They both gazed around the room, in the direction of the small passageway to the bedroom farther in; Channing thought he would suffocate, Justin restrained him so tight. Beck finally turned his head back to his older counterpart.
Without a word, he gripped Thom by the nape of his neck and seized his mouth, like whether they were walked in on didn’t matter. Like he’d got used to Leigh watching, and now this wasn’t a big deal— though it would be a big deal, he knew.
“Was this what you did to me that time?” Beck asked, now that he’d got Thom out of his shirt, he got two fingers up to his lip and motioned for him to open.
Thom grinned, he started laughing and then Beck got the tips of his fingers inside. “Yeah, that’s what you did to me,” Beck said, “And you were like, suck.”
Thom’s laugh came muffled, his fingers were gentle and warm as he took Beck’s hand in both of his. He pressed the fingers in a bit farther, naturally proficient, and said in low tones, “What, like this?”
Whatever smart response Beck had prepared never came; he’d forgotten how good this guy was. He watched for a little while before remembering his voice, “Y—yeah. Like that.”
“Good thing you remember, I’d forgot entirely.” Thom spoke even as he went at it, fingers glistening fluid when he pulled them out to speak.
“Shut up and just go back to doing it,” Beck deadpanned, trying to get his fingers back in.
“You’d think I was having at your cock, the way you’re talking.”
Beck flushed; his voice went entirely dry in his throat. Several moments passed before he spoke again, “You want that?”
“Looks like you do.”
“Do you?” Beck got his fingers far in Thom’s mouth, too far almost; Thom nearly gagged.
“Were you this aggressive last time?”
“Were you this talkative?”
“Were you this much of a slag?”
“Wh— much of a what?”
“A slag.” Thom got Beck’s fingers out of his mouth and pressed them wetly on Beck’s lips. He got very close, almost kissing him, “You’re clearly one now.”
“Screw you, what does that even mean?” Beck asked, voice muffled by his own fingers as Thom forced them inward.
“Here, I’ll show you,” Thom said, fingers sliding rapidly out; he moved in to kiss him while reaching down for Beck’s jeans.
(On to Chapter 14)
- 12
- 13
- 14
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Thom/Beck - Part 2