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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
- 15
- 16
- 17
Channing lay on his back, staring mutely at the ceiling. Cigarette forgotten in one hand somewhere off the edge of the mattress, touching himself, not really into it, long hair pouring vivid black off one shoulder. He could hear everything, and there wasn’t anything worthwhile hearing.
“Yeah,” Justin said, “I want him, too.”
“I’ll get him tomorrow,” Channing said, “and make him tell me.”
“He won’t tell you shit.”
“I’ll twist his arm till he does.”
“He’ll kick your ass.”
“Yeah, probably.” Channing took a long draw of his cigarette, squinting against the smoke. “I’ll have to get him when he’s worn out and tired.”
Beck had Thom stood with his face to the wall; he was on his knees, himself, hands tight on Thom’s hips, having at him from behind. His breath came humid and muffled, he had his tongue in him all the way. He fought to stay quiet, but there came nonetheless the profane sounds of liquid, of expiration, of lips against flesh. He was uselessly hard against his own thighs, neglecting himself, having at Thom like he’d wanted to stop long ago but couldn’t.
“Fuck me, you’re good at that,” Thom muttered, and he cursed and swore, and asked Beck to do dirty things, but Beck ignored him; his tongue hurt, and his knees burned on the carpet. He slowly pulled out his tongue, lips and chin wet, hair clinging to his face annoyingly. He bit his lip and sucked on it as he fingered the wet entrance.
“Right, you definitely know what you’re doing,” Thom breathed, still pressed to the wall, feeling exposed and dirty. Beck had half a mind to tell him that, yes, he definitely knew— and half a mind to stay quiet because he wasn’t certain it was something of which he was proud.
The digit slid readily in, Beck watched his own hand in the dark, Thom’s perfect behind. He was so hot inside. Beck slowly rose to his feet, finger still in, his free hand came naturally round Thom’s front to his abdomen; Beck was just a little taller.
“This is as far in as it goes,” he said at Thom’s ear, he could see peripherally Thom’s expression, he pressed his hand against him till it was tight against his behind. Thom had his forehead to the wall, lips parted, eyes shut. He slowly batted his eyes open and regarded Beck helplessly in the dark, then moved in to kiss him, somehow he was so desperate.
“Think I can get another one in you,” Beck asked, he was stroking him slowly from the inside, and Thom murmured, “reckon you could.”
He was actually moving back against Beck’s hand, trying uselessly to fuck his finger, like one wasn’t enough, then whimpered in annoyance when the digit slid out. It went wetly across his behind, Beck got Thom’s hand in his and brought it to Thom’s mouth.
“Open,” he said, their eyes met as Beck slid both his own fingers and Thom’s into Thom’s mouth, not far enough to make him gag, but to get them proper wet. Thom knew well enough what he was meant to do and didn’t need to be prompted, it wasn’t anything he’d not done before. He let Beck press their fingers down on his tongue, the fluid ran clear past his lip to his chin, he tried to swallow but sucked on their fingers as a consequence.
“That’s nice,” Beck said without meaning to, funny how something like that felt good. It went without saying that Thom definitely knew what he was doing, as well. Beck pulled their fingers out wetly, fluid running down his wrist, he nudged Thom’s thighs farther apart with one knee.
“You are so fucking dirty,” Thom said when he was free to talk, “you know that?”
“Shut up,” Beck got one hand on Thom’s behind, still not releasing Thom’s hand, he got both his and Thom’s fingers to the entrance.
He could tell Thom was grinning, like he was half embarrassed, and it got Beck grinning, too.
“Y’like that?” Beck asked, his voice tender somehow; Thom laughed softly in response, he murmured, “Oh, fuck” when Beck got their fingers inside. It was really tight that way, Beck could feel their fingers pressed on each other. But he was gonna slide them in all the way like this, too, he gazed down as with vast amusement, still grinning, he said, “Well, look at that.”
Thom laughed silently, forehead up to the wall, chest drawn in with inspiration. He was definitely embarrassed now, but clearly liking it, there issued wet sounds as Beck began moving their hands, fucking Thom with their fingers. Thing was, Thom got really into that, he wasn’t just moving back against the digits, he was pressing himself on the wall, he was so fucking hard.
Beck had half a mind to get him off that way, he’d got to moving their fingers against him so fast he had to keep one hand hard on Thom’s hip to keep him upright. His palm struck hard on Thom’s behind while he moved, until finally he’d got too tired, he stopped all at once, then slid out their digits.
He bent forth, releasing Thom’s hand, then gripped his thighs and leaned in to tongue him again; he slapped Thom’s hand away when he’d reached toward him, breath hot on Thom’s behind, like he was starving.
“Fuck—” Thom muttered, now openly stroking himself against the wall, “Jesus, you utter—”
Beck pulled back, breathless, lips wet; he straightened himself behind Thom and finally directed his attention to his own neglected anatomy. He was so wet by then.
He was absently stroking himself, he gripped Thom’s behind and moved closer, slowly finding the entrance with his fingers.
Funny, how insecure and clueless he’d been about this last year. He slid his fingers in past the entrance briefly, in and out a few times for good measure, then brought his member there. Thom actually reached behind him to take it, then slid it against himself like he knew what he wanted, the head went readily in.
“Oh, shit,” Beck muttered, “Fuck, that’s so good—”
Thom released him, he let Beck slide in the rest of the way, until his hips were firm against Thom’s behind. Thom’s fingertips trailed blindly along the side of Beck’s thigh, down to where the hair started light on his leg, that was as far back as Thom could reach while stood with his back to him; he waited impatiently for him to go on.
Beck slowly began moving, hands on Thom’s hips, pressing up into him from behind; no words were exchanged after that, only their breath echoing humid, pronounced with exertion and past the point of shame.
In the other room, Channing remained on his back, glassy-eyed, on his fourth or fifth cigarette by then; it had burned down to a good inch of ash, red tip vaguely glowing. “I wish he’d fuck me like that,” he murmured, hand dripping wet on his own spent member, still in the confines of his undone fly.
“Doesn’t he?” Justin asked, entirely unaffected, tuning his bass over on the other bed.
“Not like that,” Channing said. He could tell even without watching directly— this was something distinctly profane. If they hadn’t been discovered, they might still be watching this.
“You’re right,” Justin said, “it’s like they’re so…”
It was like they fell for each other so fucking hard.
“If it wasn’t him he was with, I’d go out there right now, and just grab him, and, like—”
“Yeah,” Justin said, “yeah, I know. Me too.”
(On to Chapter 17)
- 15
- 16
- 17
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Thom/Beck - Part 2