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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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- 18
“Don’t move.”
Beck’s voice came soft and fluid at Thom’s ear, audibly out of breath, hot with the aftermath of exertion. Thom found curiously he liked being told what to do, he liked being defiant about it, times he also liked losing in the end. It occurred to him he liked watching Beck come of age somehow, to the point where he could tell Thom what’s what in earnest.
His forearms remained damp on the wall, head rested against them, unmoving, such the good guy. Beck’s hands were large and hot on his behind, he could feel the humid closeness of his breath, the brush of stubble, the hesitance of his lips— “You did this to me, too,” I never forgot, you fucking pervert, cause you did, didn’t you.
His finger went readily in, the fluid trailing hot along Thom’s behind, his inner thigh, Thom’s voice came muffled as he cursed under his breath.
“Dirty bastard,” Thom mouthed, one hand going behind him to grip Beck by the hair. His thighs were brittle with the effort of having stood in place so long, he forced Beck’s mouth to his entrance, cause that’s what Beck was gonna do, wasn’t it.
Beck’s eyes went shut, he felt the liquid slick at his lips, his chin, the corners of his mouth, Thom’s grip painful in his hair, his voice came muffled and breathy and he weakly whined in attempt to be let alone.
“Right, what was it I did to you,” Thom murmured, trying still to hold him in place, “Did I lick it out of you proper?”
Beck didn’t reply that time; eyes shut, he reached his tongue out tentatively, breath hot, curiously obedient as he lapped the fluid out from him; Thom didn’t need to grip him so hard, soon he was doing it entirely of his own accord, he emerged with streamlets glistening from his cheeks and his chin, reaching after Thom absently. Thom clearly was struggling to stand steadily when he turned around, he bent on his knees as to be eye level with Beck,let me look at you, his hands came gently in Beck’s hair.
“You’ve got so good at that,” he said, both hands combing Beck’s hair back, and he leant forth to kiss him.
They kissed each other hungrily, both somehow feisty, possessive, jealous and hurt.
“Listen,” Thom said, they were sat naked, forehead to forehead, still kissing, euphoric and tired with the aftertaste of sex. “Listen, come play with us. With me. Come do a show with me.”
Beck regarded him tiredly, fingertips absent on Thom’s cheeks where he was partway to kissing him again. He appeared to weigh it in mind, and eventually shook his head.
“What— like, how do you mean—”
Thom shrugged, licking his lips because they’d gone dry and chapped.
“Dunno,” he said, “let’s… let’s work that out sometime.”
They both had their schedules tied for the next several months; the Monster tour was about to head to Europe. Something like let’s play together sounded stupid and childish, arranging something complex as that just because they liked shagging each other.
“Yeah,” Beck replied, “Let’s work that out sometime.”
They’d part ways and never, ever cross paths again for another year, more like.
If you’d asked Beck what he really wanted to do, he wouldn’t tell you. But what he wouldn’t tell you was that he just wanted to play acoustic sets, something heartfelt, something anti-folk. But you can’t make it anywhere without whoring yourself out at least a little, so Bek became something else.
He said to Thom, yeah, and wondered how much they really had in common. Nigel would ask Thom, Mate, you daft? And he’d say, Fuck’s sake, Thom, bring him to me.
Should we be worried, Stipey wondered, aware he was somehow protective of Thom, aware as he had become of how delicate Thom had been in the face of the past year’s tour— and Jonny consoled him; “Yess,” Jonny said, “we should always be worried for Thom.”
In Kim and Thurston’s trailer, the lights were on very late into the night. They were up, the two of them, constructing a tower of bread crusts, adding small packets of butter in-between.
“You gave him the kiss of life,” Kim said, slightly stoned, “Yesterday, I knew it.”
Thurston was carefully trying to balance two slanted pieces of bread into a roof for the second story, lips parted with concentration, wrists bony with the position he had them protrude. “I didn’t do anything, that wasn’t me,” he finally said.
“Or maybe the kiss of death…” Kim murmured, watching in slow motion, with all the philosophical introspection that came with being high.
“The kiss of death…” Thurston repeated, like it sounded pretty cool, “That’s what I do.”
He leaned in as though to kiss her after that, and Kim laughed, one pack of butter going oily and gross in her hands.
“That’s more like…” she murmured against him, “that’s more like the kiss of Twizzlers, where’d you get Twizzlers?”
“I’ll give you the kiss of Twizzlers.”
“Fuck off, really, where’s the Twizzlers?”
“I’ll give you the kiss of Twizzlers.”
“There will come a time,” Thom said to Beck, even though neither of them was high, “when we’ll belong with each other more than we’ll belong with the places we came from."
Beck’s eyes were translucent blue in the low light from outside.
“That time,” he said, “will never come.”
There was hot breath between them, hunger that was a matter of time to manifest; Beck had got Thom almost too hard on the carpeted floor, there was no preamble before he had at him again. Neither tried to keep quiet, their words came hoarse and profane, breathless, frustration and hurt they’d not realized they’d been holding in for months.
Beck had got both Thom’s legs over his shoulders, he bent him double on the floor, but it wasn’t exactly painful; or maybe it was, but that was what felt right; or maybe Beck was pissed because he liked doing his own thing, and it annoyed him that what Thom did or thought had mattered.
“Easy, mate,” Thom’s voice came breathless, “I was gentle when I gave it to you.”
Beck’s brow furrowed as with mock amusement. “Were you?”
(On to Chapter 18)
- 16
- 17
- 18
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Thom/Beck - Part 2