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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
- 5
- 6
- 7
Beck and Channing, aged twenty-five and twenty-three, stood at a concrete stairwell leading down a grassy incline, reeds softly swaying. No words exchanged between them. Both squinting against the afternoon sun, everything surreal but each other. Hands tightly interwoven, don’t let me get lost.
Cologne was an immaculate city, you’d feel a sense of architecture even through the woods, Beck and Channing clung on to each other in search of the living magic that remained shimmering in them, even after Al had left. They were eight and six inside.
Some distance off, the yellow sun glittered in-between the trees, they didn’t have to look at each other to know they were each other’s protection.
Everyone else still was inside the building, the funeral that came after the funeral, and it didn’t matter if they’d stayed for that or not— that was for people who didn’t have what Al had been coursing through them. A Fluxus sort of funeral. What Bibbe would do, and Channing after her.
After that, Beck and Channing had each other.
Dinner parties during their teens, Channing got on very well with everyone and everyone’s children, but still would come knock on the closed bedroom door after Bek had gone to be by himself.
Bek had the top bunk. Channing would climb up completely uninvited, and it was annoying, and there was no room, but he’d ask if he could stay anyway. And Bek would say, no.
“Can I read here with you?”
“Read in your own bed.”
Channing would chew his lip and gaze down at his hands, picking at imperfections in the rail paint.
“Can I stay here anyway?”
“No.”
But he’d stay long enough, little brothers were so annoying, then Bibbe would come up to ask how come they were both in their room instead of down with the company. And she’d have stupid Giovanni and Marissa with her, both preteens, she’d say stuff about how the twins should hang out with Channing and Bek. You didn’t hang out with twelve-year-olds when you were sixteen. And the Ribisi twins were really weird twelve-year-olds, Marissa had this mullet-fro hybrid going on.
That’s when it would be all over, and Bek would glare at Channing in a way that made him understand what he'd done, and Channing would feel bad, but he’d be nice to everyone anyway.
“They can’t touch the stuff on my desk,” Bek would whisper, “Let them read your stupid comic books.”
“Doctor Who isn’t stupid,” Channing would say, but he’d let them read if they wanted.
“Can we make seven-layer salsa dip?” Marissa would ask, and Bek would say, “No.”
--
Jonny watched in stunned silence as Colin dragged Thom through their hotel room door, Thom completely piss drunk, badly singing Planet Telex.
They had to get their drinking done fast, because the show ended after eleven, and, apparently, bars in America didn’t stay open past 1:30 AM. They both smelled like liquor, and somehow it smelled really good, even if Jonny had vowed never to touch the stuff.
“Should’ve seen him, Jon-Jon,” Colin laughed, about half as drunk as Thom, “Nearly shat himself after this woman scared him—”
“Fuck off,” Thom snickered, partly clinging to Coz, partly kissing him all the while, “She was fucking mental.”
Jonny remained at the entrance, one hand on the doorknob. He’d waited up for them, some things never changed.
“All right, Thom?” he asked, now carefully closing the door, observing as Colin dragged Thom to his bed, then climbed in after him and proceeded to finish whatever it seemed they’d not got done on the cab ride back.
“I’m all right, Jonny…!” Thom slurred, he grinned stupidly from under Col’s arm, he motioned, c’mere.
Jonny didn’t drink, but he didn’t dislike when Thom did; first time he’d got with Thom, it was all thanks to alcohol.
“Jonny, Jonny, Jonny-Jon,” Thom sang, clumsily hooking one finger in Jonny’s trousers, he laughed knowingly while pulling him close, “Shame you never come with.”
Jonny part-collapsed on the mattress by Thom, Colin already undoing Thom’s trousers, Thom pulled Jon in and laughed as he kissed him slowly. He tasted the way liquor smelled, Jonny got both hands on his cheeks and pulled him harder in.
“This woman at the bar—” Colin started, breathless with impatience, he gripped hard at Thom’s jeans and tugged them to somewhere mid-waist. Thom pulled out partway from where he was kissing Jonny, then pointed one finger at Col.
“Shut up about that,” he said.
It made Colin more compelled to talk, he laughed, slapping Thom’s thigh, telling him to lift his arse so he could pull his jeans farther down.
“Some guy spilled his drink on her, right, then she got all angry, and Thom damn near ran—”
“Piss off.”
Colin chuckled. He grinned at Jonny, who still had Thom’s face in his hands and appeared dissatisfied about having to stop kissing him.
“Come here, Jonny,” Colin said, “Got something for you.”
“Do you, really?”
“Fuck off, Thom, this doesn’t concern you.”
Jonny obediently followed, climbing over the mattress beside his brother. Colin had one hand on Thom’s member, from outside his boxers, he grinned drunkenly at Jon and muttered, “Here, that’s for you.”
“For me?” Jonny asked, suddenly shy; his hand followed Colin’s, the both of them gripping Thom from over the fabric. The hard member felt solid and hot, Jonny and Colin’s fingers interwoven.
“Yeah,” Thom said, somehow humbled, “that’s for you.
Jonny had felt the temptation to drink, the way Thom had felt the temptation to have cake, that day with Stipey. His eyes followed the cloth of the elastic band to Thom’s boxers, the criss-crossing pattern in colors he couldn’t quite see.
Maybe he could help himself to just the smallest slice—
Jonny was too delicate. Col’s hands came on the elastic band and tugged the thing down, too drunk and too fast, so that Thom swore at him after; but Jon stared all the while.
Thom was propped by his elbows. He stared down at his own naked member, hot on his abdomen, glistening wet at the tip. He looked up at Col after that, then at Jonny.
“Do you want some, then?” he asked, entirely innocent.
Jonny and Colin stared down; for some stupid reason, Jonny was being totally daft. Colin rolled his eyes and took Jon at the back of the head, he pressed him down with one solid go,
“Of course he wants some, you idiot.”
Jonny really did. He fell gracelessly on Thom’s waist, then straightened himself, the member had slid clear cross his face and got him all wet. Thom had got one hand helpfully out and carefully guided the thing to Jon’s mouth, watching as his lips came parted.
Jonny’s eyes batted closed, Thom’s hips rose from the mattress, hand still on his cock as he let Jonny take it farther in.
“Better than you, Cozzie,” Thom said, shamelessly watching, one hand in Jon’s hair to hold it back.
“Rubbish,” Col said, “I taught him.”
Jonny pulled the thing out of his mouth long enough to huff at Colin, the fluid still clinging wet to his lips. “You did not,” he said.
Thom appeared irritated, he held his member drunkenly to Jon’s lips, guiding it back inward.
“Sorry,” Jon muttered, taking it in his hand and bringing it back to his mouth.
Colin appeared somehow hurt. “I did so,” he sulked, “why’d you tell him that? Move over.”
Not only was Jonny not finished, but Thom wasn’t finished holding Jonny in place; Col pushed Jonny’s face out of the way in annoyance. Jon still had Thom’s member in his hand, the fluid streamed clear from his lips to the tip when Col got it in his mouth.
“Fuck,” Thom muttered, his hips rising from the mattress, Jon watched with dissatisfaction as Colin got Thom all the way in his mouth. Col was being extra nice then, to set straight this bit about Jonny presumably being better.
“All right, all right, he’s not better than you,” Thom breathed, but Colin still wasn’t done. Jonny now was concerned, “But you liked it when I did it, didn’t you,” he asked, and, abdomen tense, Thom delicately wiped at the fluid from Jonny’s cheek.
“Open,” he murmured, pulling down at Jon’s lower lip, he pressed the wet digit in when Jonny had his mouth agape.
“Course I liked it,” he said, pressing his finger farther in.
Thom could barely keep focused on what he was doing; Colin wasn’t going easy on him. “Fuck, Jonny, your brother is an utter slag.”
Colin didn’t stop; he gave Thom the finger even as he was at it. Thom tossed himself back on the mattress, eyes closed, lips parted.
Jonny could feel Colin’s hand on his, both slick with liquid, both holding Thom hard. It was true, Colin had taught him, but that had been ages ago; Jonny liked to think he could do well enough on his own. Thom’s finger still remained absently somewhere between his lips, he wasn’t gonna say something like I can be a slag, too.
“You don’t want to watch, Thom?” he asked, voice shy somehow, like he’d been outdone. The words took several moments to register, then Thom propped himself weakly by one elbow, clearly struggling to sustain himself. Colin still at it in a way that made Jon hopelessly aware he was not in his league.
Jonny hesitated; he got both hands on Colin’s face, pulling him upward from over Thom’s member, the fluid got over Col’s cheeks and his chin; Colin’s hand still on Thom’s member, Jon kissed him insistently, very slowly, so Thom could see.
He had Thom’s attention now.
(On to Chapter 7)
- 5
- 6
- 7
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Thom/Beck - Part 2