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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
- 17
- 18
- 19
Jonny didn’t like being looked at; but Beck wasn’t really looking, he’d gone on all fours over Thom and appeared preoccupied with his member, either way his hair had largely draped his face. It was still a little wet from before. Trying not to think how blatantly obscene he were, Beck reached with his tongue to lap the fluid still glistening at the tip. He tried to steady himself with his free hand, as beneath him Thom’s body swayed a little despite Jonny’s attempts at grace.
Even on stage Jonny had been visibly embarrassed by the things he did to his tele, on stage where everyone could see, like he’d not known what came over him, he would swear, he’d meant to be gentle—
He were too self-conscious to merely ease into it, into how Beck was right there, and he could see from much too close up how Jonny had moved into Thom, how he’d pulled Thom’s lower body off the floor partway, so he could fit, the trail of hair on his abdomen, the smudged ink from before; Beck was so close Jonny could feel the brush of his hair against his naked skin, his stomach and his thighs; if Jonny weren’t so far along in arousal, he’d be too mortified to keep going.
Thom was still dissatisfied and hurt from what Jonny said before. Whether or not it should bother him became irrelevant, because he was too far distracted by the actual bothering. He tried not to think of it. It remained irritatingly in the back of his mind even as he succumbed to dirty little games, the pleasant human weight of flesh as Beck’s long limbs arranged over him, alternating light and shadow. Thom had to lift his forearms to accommodate, his hands came naturally on the back of Beck’s thighs;
He couldn’t really do anything with his legs; they were tight against Jonny’s hips on the iliac crests, Jonny’s large hands under Thom’s legs, Thom couldn’t see a thing; he’d got so hot, with Beck over him like that; the floor pressed uncomfortably into his shoulder blades and the back of his skull, his lower spine, his long hair scattered;
His fingers trailed already most of the way up to Beck’s behind when he felt his mouth on his member, “Yes, that’s nice—” Thom said, struggling a little against Jonny’s hands in attempt to press his hips farther up. His voice came strained, a little muffled, his breath issued humid on Beck’s inner thigh. Thom had been with boys before. He’d dated Steve Mason in the general context of experimentation even before his famed exploits with Colin. He had no shame. If he liked you, he’d cling to you childlike in photos, and fuck all what anyone thought.
He and Colin used to wear makeup; seven records down the line, you’d never have guessed.
But you know that’s not true; it all still glittered inside.
He was somehow helplessly trapped between Jonny and Beck, he liked being trapped, he still were unquestionably in charge.
“You still scared?” he murmured to Beck, fingers trailing along his behind, carefully tugging; Beck didn’t respond, but his voice came in a muffled threat when he felt Thom’s tongue on his entrance. Thom chuckled, absently licking his lips. “Sorry, did you think I’d play with you here?” he asked, one hand coming on Beck’s member.
Thom really did have a way with his hands; Beck remembered how good he had been the night before, he’d been with girls who’d kissed him all wrong and he didn’t even know it until Thom got to him. Jonny raised his eyes to see what they were laughing about, he struggled not to succumb to the urge to move faster, still careful of Beck being so close.
It was a terribly uncomfortable position for Thom, with his hips up and having to tilt his head up so far all the while, without having his hands for support— but he went at it anyway, even if Beck had quite confirmed without words that he was still scared. He tongued slowly at his entrance, as in warning, give up, you’re helpless anyway. What are you gonna do, get up and climb off...?
Jonny flushed; it occurred to him Beck really were helpless, because Thom had done things to him that had him surrender despite himself. He and Beck glanced at each other, questioning, Jonny quietly mouthed,
“That nice?”
Beck didn’t reply. His lips were a little inflamed with exertion, visibly wet, eyes big and blue.
“Yeah, tell Jon if it’s nice,” Thom chuckled, having withdrawn only long enough to speak— and Jonny immediately blushed redder, because Thom wasn’t meant to hear, let alone offer input.
“F—fuck—”
Beck muttered, collapsing a little bit forth. He’d forgot all about having at Thom’s member and it brushed slick against his face, fluid still clinging from the tip to his mouth. What’s Thom doing to you? Jonny wouldn’t dare ask, and, either way, he quite understood. His hands grew tired on Thom’s thighs, but he kept going, aware his skin had gone damp, that his pulse had gone faster, the reality that he really were having it with Thom had suddenly seemed so strange—
“Sorry,” he whispered to Beck, something like a courtesy warning, a notice that beyond this point on, he takes no liability, because it no longer felt like a matter of choice; he had to, trying to keep it slow now had become too frustrating. Sorry if you’re hit.
Beck’s head lay in surrender against Thom’s thigh, eyes closed, lips parted, his chest hot on Thom’s abdomen. Thom’s member completely forgotten. Beck's knees burned into the carpet, hips obscenely raised, his upper body swayed forth with impact when Jonny moved against Thom.
Beck was beyond liability as well. He could feel himself rock hard and neglected, Thom having long since withdrawn his hand from his cock, because he was sliding his finger inside him, and he needed at least one hand for support on the floor.
Beck had got to the point where his hips swayed deliberately against Thom, of their own accord. Where he could feel Jonny’s flat abdomen pressed to his head, uncomfortably tight, where the damp warmth of Thom’s body beneath him had become a knowing familiar. Somewhere in the back of his mind he vaguely remembered how you always hear guys can come from just that, and he found himself very interested in finding out if that could really work on him.
He was aware he wasn’t taking care of Thom, even after he’d tried to encourage him earlier— but Thom wasn’t complaining; he’d maintained fantastic composure despite how hard Jonny was giving it to him by then. He never stopped what he was doing to Beck, he reached upward to lap at his perineum even as he played with him inside.
They’d all have ink all over them later. They’d all have bruises from where the floor was too hard. Beck would spend nights back home in LA, one leg bent over his Marshall amp, doing it to himself with the humbling awareness that Thom had got him into this, and now look at him not even doing it to himself as well.
Hey, Chan— have you ever, like—
After the fact, Beck would be really impressed by how well Thom kept it up. He could feel how difficult it had got for him, because of what Jonny was doing, he could feel how strained Thom’s breath had got on his thighs, how he’d tensed beneath him, like he was struggling under his weight to no avail; Beck glanced docilely, eyes glazed, reaching to lick at the fluid on Thom’s member and not quite managing; it looked so good he must really have been far gone.
It didn’t matter that neither he nor Thom actually came, he could get himself off on his own as much as he liked; this was something else entirely. It occurred to him Jonny was determined to finish, be it because he was close or because he wanted the memory that it happened, and he was close, it was apparent in his voice, in how Jonny and Thom were now speaking to each other—
“Bollocks, that hurts.”
“Sorry—”
“Not that. Your nails.”
“Oh—sorry—”
“Still doing it.”
“Thom, fuck off.”
After that, Thom’s laughter came crystalline and pure, with genuine living enjoyment that he’d got a reaction from Jonny like that. Because it had been so human and real. It had somehow made it past the discipline of subversive reserve, something Thom knew well in Colin in its familiar charm.
Jonny’s nails still dug painfully into Thom’s legs, really, it all was quite uncomfortable and strained, but he’d been so hot; his hips struggled against Jonny’s grip and under Beck’s weight to press harder; his voice came muffled into Beck’s thighs, his eyes squeezed tightly shut, there was the profane sound of flesh striking flesh, he’d long since lost the feeling in his lower limbs—
He couldn’t see Jonny when he came— but there was the way he gripped Thom much too hard, Jonny's hips pressed into him and remained tight up for several seconds, motionless, Thom could tell Jonny’s entire body had stilled; he could feel the fluid trail out from inside him, but he’d largely lost sensation there, he wasn’t certain if Jonny was still in, or if he’d pulled out and it was just after-effect, or if it were the gradual streaming of liquid;
His legs trembled when Jonny allowed them onto the floor, when Thom tried to accommodate by lowering them by himself. His hands remained somewhere on Beck’s hips, he shivered when he felt him lap curiously at the liquid that slicked out from him, Beck’s head almost upside-down between his thighs.
(On to chapter 19)
- 17
- 18
- 19
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Thom/Beck