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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
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Dear Leigh, I slept with another guy. I’m not gay or anything, but I think I sort of liked it.
Leigh Limon wouldn’t know whether to feel jealous or really turned on; mostly, she was glad Beck didn’t hide it from her. She tried to envision what it had been like, imagining David Bowie and Mick Ronson, the stuff they’d got up to on stage. Guy from Radiohead, you know, Creep?
Dear Rachel, you owe me £10.
Beck had to grip the cushions in a very uncomfortable way to keep from falling off, because they already weren’t in a particularly steady position; when Thom moved faster, the couch shifted and everything moved, and stuff started falling off, and they were sort of sliding off as well. They didn’t really care. It was that point in sex when they’d accepted they weren’t really comfortable and all kinds of clumsy, and it was sweaty and dirty and raw; they’d stopped cringing at the wet sounds of flesh striking flesh, it was hot now—
Beck no longer felt shame about how hard he’d grasped Thom round the shoulders, Thom laughed stupidly when Beck gripped his behind instead—
There came a curious familiarity between them, they started talking like they were old friends, like this was something knowing and almost routine, like they’d become mutually aware they were both human.
“Aren’t you supposed to do a reach around?” Beck asked, one hand still on Thom’s behind, he could feel his muscles go tight when he moved in.
Thom chuckled clumsily, voice breathy, yellow bundles of hair clinging damp to his temples. “Isn’t that for when I do you from behind?” he asked, and they both considered, quiet for several moments.
“I’ll let you do it to me after if you want,” Thom said, and Beck could tell by the way he asked it was something Thom was curious to try, too.
Beck laughed, head rolling back, unsure of what to say. He thought he was getting the hang of this. He thought one of his legs had long since fallen asleep. Saying he wanted to do it to Thom would be weird.
They started talking about music. They talked about how overwhelmed they were with recording, and how fucked up the tour schedule was, what complete whores they felt they were made to be, they way they were selling themselves to the public. They talked about what slots they had scheduled for tomorrow, and the logistical problems they’d had, and how it was all too much pressure.
After that, they talked about the bands they liked, and the shows they had seen, and laughed in mutual camaraderie when they made fun of their idols, in a way that was really respect.
“You stopped moving, go faster,” Beck said, “I thought you’re supposed to be fucking me.”
Thom grinned from under his hair, “Sorry,” he chuckled, “That better?”
Beck was partway to nodding, but wondered if it really was better. Did he like it? Was this good? Could it be that maybe something like this wasn’t really a big deal? He thought of the time Kurt Cobain and Krist Novoselic made out on stage, maybe stuff like that just happened.
“Yeah,” he said, “that’s better.”
Maybe you really didn’t need to be drunk.
He laughed at the absurdity of it, pulling Thom in by the arm and making him stumble a little in an attempt to steady himself; he kissed him slowly, by then entirely sober and aware he had liked it. He wasn’t sure how to take it when Thom told him he was close, because it wasn’t something he was used to hearing someone else say during sex. He said okay stupidly, his head pressed back in the cushions as Thom continued moving above him, shoulder just up against Beck’s mouth.
It wasn’t that Beck never saw another dude jack off before. That was how you watched pornos, you made sure mom wasn’t home and then got out your secret stash of tapes from under your bed, he and Channing hadn’t looked at each other, but they watched together. They watched until they could hear their mom’s car pull into the driveway, then quickly scrambled to get the tape out of the VCR and hide it back under the bed. He still remembered the crumbling styrofoam packaging of his VHS pornos, he wasn’t sure where exactly they’d originated, but he’d gotten them from an older kid he knew, not really a friend.
There was something disturbingly familiar about Thom coming inside him—the way his body tensed, the way he breathed, how he gripped Beck hard but still was clearly in his own world—he was both vulnerable and somehow selfish, but very human, and it all was so real, Beck realized, when he felt the fluid stream hotly down his inner thigh.
“Fuck,” he breathed, his limbs curiously stiff when finally Thom had climbed down from above him, he felt a rush of cool air, his legs hurt when he carefully unfolded them down from over the sides of the couch. Thom tossed himself back on the cushions, arms limp at his sides, still catching his breath, absently fingering his spent member. He rolled his head sideward at Beck, laughing knowingly, like they were partners in crime.
Beck wasn’t laughing; he was suddenly aware he was damp and disheveled and gross, and Thom must have caught on to that, because he leaned toward him, hands on Beck’s thighs, as though asking permission.
“What are you…” Beck asked suspiciously, pretty sure he didn’t like where this was going.
Where it was going was that Thom gently pulled Beck’s thighs apart again, and before Beck could whine about how sore he was and how they should stop, Thom had leaned in so he was between Beck’s legs, and was lifting them over his shoulders, so he could lap at his entrance.
“F—fuck—”
Beck sputtered, hands gripping Thom in what he’d meant originally to be an attempt to move him away, but his fingers froze in place; it wasn’t a comfortable position, but it felt really, really good, and also it was horrifically profane, what Thom did.
Beck didn’t call him a dirty bastard or ask if he was out of his mind, or tell him to stop; he was completely turned on. Even though his thighs still felt stiff, he held them the way Thom wanted, watching speechlessly as Thom licked the fluid out from inside him. His hair felt feathery against Beck’s thighs, his breath humid and warm; he had just a little bit of stubble, and it brushed gently against Beck's skin.
It felt really nice. He thought Thom was too tired to do something like that. “You’re really a nice guy—aren’t you—” he said, and Thom didn’t reply, but he believed he was a good guy, and not necessarily nice. He was nice to you if he thought you were a good person, too.
He wasn’t afraid to let Beck have a go at him after. He pulled him in when he finished, lips and chin glistening wet, and kissed him slowly—because they already were messy enough. It occurred to Beck there was no way Thom had done that before, either.
He chuckled, thumb trailing slowly along Thom’s chin, where a clear stream of fluid glittered down from his lip— and wondered how another guy could be so hot. Not just appearance hot, but hot all around. Beck didn’t try giving it to Thom after that; they made out for a long time. They talked about their instruments, and their producers, and the styles they liked, and after that they talked about where they were from, and how they just wanted this tour to be over.
They were on their second joint when Thom asked how come there was no bed in Beck’s trailer. Beck chuckled, taking a moment to reflect on this with an air of philosophical introspection. Got a couple of couches, sleep on the loveseat; it’s not like he was really used to what trailers were like at events like these.
He listened to the trickle of water when Thom was in the shower, staring at the ceiling, pleasantly high. He had no regrets. He would’ve liked to play together with Thom, even if their styles were different; it would still be pretty cool. He lent him some clothes after the fact and watched him get dressed, then depart. What the hell just happened, he wondered as he proceeded to shower, himself—but he’d been wondering more or less the same thing over the past two years.
(On to chapter 6)
Song: Loser by Beck (Mellow Gold 1993)
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- 6
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Thom/Beck