Fic | teeth to the loves and the curses | webster/liebgott | nc-17
Title: teeth to the loves and curses
Author: asemic
Pairing: Webster/Liebgott
Fandom,: Band of Brothers
Summary: Joe wants Web to change. Funny how things work out.
Rating: NC-17
A/N: Title and word snippets from lyrics by the goddess St. Vincent.
Webster saunters in like nothing happened, hanging names over their heads.
Joe looks at him, clean and soft. He wants to do more than wring his neck.
He wants to throw him Babe's way and show him how deep the splinters from Bastogne pierced. Remind him why Buck's not there, how he's cracked in the head. Share stories about Malarkey that end with him sitting alone with glazed eyes.
Joe had to see everyone change around him.
Now Web has to change.
He needs to break like the rest of them.
(i’ll make you sorry)
He's going to go home and find himself a nice girl.
He survived jumping out of planes, firefights, fucking exploding trees aiming for his ass. When he goes home he's landing on his feet.
Happily ever after and all that faerie tale shit.
Yeah, that's how it's going to end. Not him dying on some bullshit patrol.
He meets Web's eyes and there's a flare of heat. He pushes it down and lets it join his anger.
Ignores it until he can figure it out later.
Because there will be a later.
(give us news of the fall)
He's got a nice mouth.
He never noticed how it curves with a soft bend.
Joe follows the bounce of the cigarette on Webster's lower lip.
Full and pretty like it belongs on a woman. Too pink for his own good.
It follows him everywhere the rounded lower lip. It's impossible to fucking forget and he can't look away. He's tried.
Failed.
He jerks off facing the wall listening to everyone's steady breathing as they sleep. His finger is clamped between his teeth to keep himself from barking out a curse.
Joe comes with David's ringed mouth burned into his mind.
Cleaning himself off with his undershirt he stares at the bunk above him.
It's not enough.
(my face is red)
He remembers answering the questions truthfully.
Are you heterosexual?
Joe kept warm and whole through this clusterfuck by thinking about the girls he had. Breasts and hips; rosy skin. Their waxy lipstick as it smeared against his mouth.
The soft rush of white silk between his fingers when he pulled their slips off their bodies.
Yes.
Have you ever had intimate feelings about another male?
Webster and his square palms.
His ass, mouth, and the outline of his dick through his shorts.
The longing looks he throws Joe's way like he's begging for it. To touch and be touched.
Joe wants to fuck him and possess him. Pin him face first against a wall, grope and spread his ass, and feel his muscles tense and cock harden. Joe wants to tear at his sweat-damp hair and grip the rough cotton of his undershirt. Kiss him. Taste him.
Hold him tight.
No.
He passed the screening and received the stack of enlistment papers with the shrink's initials.
Made everything nice and official.
Now, sitting on the cold stone watching Web move between buildings he doesn't know what's right anymore. He can't ignore it either.
He empties his cup on the ground.
The mud and coffee run together.
(riding us into the ground)
He realizes it the morning Haguenau disappears in a haze.
He's lonely.
Fucking stupid since he's never alone. Can't even take a piss without a voice calling for him.
It's not the same.
Then Webster came back soft and searching. Reaching.
And he? Well.
Joe's looking for something too.
Funny, that.
(you’ll have to shout even louder)
He hates dancing around it.
Patience is a virtue he doesn't have.
All he wants is to throw him to the dirt and rub against Webster, pin him down.
He's impatient but not stupid.
So he slings an arm around Web’s shoulder as they walk. Curls a hand around his knee, lights his cigarette, bunks with him.
The line taunts him.
Joe's not one for boundaries. Sometimes you have to leap and brace for the landing.
(desperate don’t look good on you)
He needs to know. He has to make it worth the risk. Joe pulls the blanket off his body, lets him know what he's doing.
He's awake. Joe knows that. You spend enough time with someone and you know every sound they make, awake or sleeping.
And Webster isn't sleeping.
He strokes himself thinking of a warm mouth using a slow hand. He didn't bother to choke back the gasps or steady his breathing.
Joe wants him to know what he's doing and see the slide of his hand along his cock. To know that it's all his doing; David is bringing him to this point.
He comes thick in his fingers and against his chest. There's a sharp inhalation of breath from the mattress inches away.
He could reach out with a wet hand and find David's.
You like the show, Webster?
Joe turns his head and sees David's erection tenting his undershorts. He bites his lip and feels that burn.
Come here. Let me help you get it out of your system.
David crawls over him and waits. No need to wait, not anymore.
Joe hooks his thumbs in the elastic and brings them down.
He gives him what they need.
(you’ve got the answer)
He likes to watch Webster jerk off.
Hard not to when he's making these grunts and undignified noises. Digs his heels into the mattress as his muscles tense. He puts on one hell of a show.
Web's lying on Joe's chest, face flushed and skin warm. His mouth snaps open and his hips rise to counter his hand.
Joe holds him through his orgasm, strokes his shoulder, and runs his fingers along his neck.
Thinking of a pretty girl, huh?
He doesn’t want an answer.
Joe feels David's laugh, the muscles of his back tense before relaxing.
He gets a response low and thick.
No, you face down with your ass in the air.
His mouth dries and something tightens in his stomach.
Web rolls to face him and reaches down and focuses on him with hard eyes.
It's never gonna happen.
David's mouth steals his words.
(what was your question)
It's an itch that needs to be scratched.
Joe licks his lips and rolls spit in his mouth.
Leans over Web's crotch and works the zipper.
You sure?
He can't answer.
His mouth is full.
(got big plans for me)
A hand job here a blow job there.
Good thing the war's as good as done. They'd never find time to fight the fucking thing.
(more they want more)
Taste of semen in his mouth, thick around his tongue. Bitter.
He spits again, wets the dirt by David's feet.
David's still catching his breath riding that wave. His face is still flush and his mouth open.
Christ, he's-.
No. This isn’t.
Fuck. He shoves that down.
Zip up. We gotta get a move on it.
Joe gives himself a moment before walking out of the barn.
What about-
He shakes his head and fishes for his lighter. Sparks up his Chesterfield and takes a drag.
Joe?
He stalks ahead ignoring the heat in his ears and face.
The bite of smoke cleans the taste from his mouth.
(can you reach the spots)
Joe wants to ask.
How many others?
He runs his fingers through David's hair.
Who else?
David's sleeping deep and restful in their small room.
He hates him for making him do this for making him feel this way.
Joe climbs on top of him, pins David's arms above his head. Ignores his groggy questions and confusion.
It’s me, it’s me.
He yanks their pants as far as he needs.
Let me do this.
David lets out a sharp noise when he's finished. Joe licks the bite mark he left on David's forearm, sucks until it swells.
It doesn’t matter. Now it’s just him, only them.
I don’t want.
Joe swallows down the lump in his chest.
Don’t say no, David.
Please.
He doesn’t know what David’s thinking now.
Joe can’t even sort himself out.
(that need oiling and fixing)
He doesn't get the chance to spit the come from his mouth.
David pulls him up, shoves their mouths together, and licks his lips apart. The come leaks past his lips and he's cleaned by David's tongue.
Jesus.
He's trying to catch up with what happened.
Hands or mouth, Joe?
His head's still swimming and his jaw is tense.
Both.
David nods, lips and chin wet as he sinks to his knees. Pumps and sucks him off.
Wait.
Joe brings their mouths flush. He opens and lets the kiss grow messy.
Swallows.
(i think i understand)
They find some pretty girls.
Polite German conversation and cigarettes spread their legs and hitch up their skirts.
His girl scrapes his back and wraps her legs around him tighter as rolls his hips deeper.
Webster's next to him straddled by the blonde. Kissing German words into her neck and breasts.
When they fuck David makes obscene noises, little begging sounds. Curses and grunts, groans and whimpers that escape from his mouth.
Right now just heavy breathing.
Later it's just them. Joe face down on the cot his hips raised as David's cock rubs against his ass.
And David's making all sorts of noises.
(what would the neighbors think)
They talk. David about sharks and literature and the
endless expanse of the ocean. I want a home right there, on the Pacific.
Joe knows what he wants.
A wife, kids, and a big house. A good job. Yeah.
Raise the family right on the ocean, Joe.
He keeps his mouth clamped tight and waits for the subject to change.
I can take a boat out with the kids and teach them how to fish.
He stays silent for a long time.
You'd love it.
(bandage, pull it off)
His fingers drift to David's belt. He's swatted away.
Not tonight. I can't.
Fuck, I need-
Not this.
Joe feels the heat in his face and the weight in his body. The floor meets him and he feels ill.
Draws his knees to his chest.
Like some fucking child.
David crouches in front of him, watches with concerned eyes. Those fucking eyes grow dull and dirt scratched with every blink. Dead and sunken.
He doesn't want to see that when he looks at him.
They smell like death, rot and disease everywhere. He can’t scrub this away. Joe wants the cold again, the bone chilling numbness. A bullet, shrapnel; not this. Not what he's seen. Said. He told them.
He.
He doesn't want to be alone.
It's dark and silent and his body tired and empty. There's the quiet rasp of David's hands stroking the backs of his calves.
Their shaking breaths and the bubble of a sob he can't choke down.
He comes undone mud thick in his mouth.
(scare the monsters out)
He whistles low and slow.
David knows what it means.
Tonight.
He'll let Joe's icy fingers run up and down his spine. Joe will taste the chocolate and cigarettes David's been pushing through his mouth all day.
His eyes focus on the red glow of the cigarette and the column of smoke. Dave sucks on his lip and tries to hide a smile.
Joe sees it.
He shuts his eyes and hums as the truck moves along the mountain road.
Oh, that spell he weaves so well.
(just to feel where you are)
Sometimes he doesn't bother using his bed.
He slips into David's, curling closer and hikes the blanket under his chin. There’s the weight of an arm around his waist.
He could tell himself it’s because he’s cold.
He’d only be lying.
(and that’s the truth)
He pins him down licking wet trails along his cheeks. His spit's a bastard form of black face grease that he drags along David's jaw and to his mouth.
Joe, come on.
He doesn't stop, running the pads of his fingers along David's throat. Stroking, feeling the pulse throb harder.
You hurt me, David.
Tightens slightly with his thumb and middle finger.
He never stops pressing his mouth against David's face.
Joe.
David's voice vibrates in his fingertips. It's a warning.
He squeezes a little more.
Why didn't you listen to me out there?
David shoves him and he lands hard on his ass.
Why do you expect me to fix your fucking mistakes?
Nothing but cold, dead eyes.
I don't answer to you, Joe.
David scrapes his face with his sleeve and storms out of the room.
He's left alone with silence.
Sometimes he scares himself.
(laughing with a mouth of blood)
The antiseptic burns over Joe's knuckles.
He hisses.
Got him a couple times.
Splash of blood on his arm, split skin, and red burns.
I see.
The adrenaline still throbs through him. His legs bounce.
There are splotches of blood on the stone floor. Maybe his from where a tooth caught his skin. Odds are it belongs to that replacement fuck.
He walked back to David and extended a stiff hand and got one in return.
Like a reflex.
Joe bends his stiff hand and cracks his fingers.
Feels good.
He leans back on the bed and pulls David to his level.
Gotta get that energy out somehow.
(scent on your hands)
David clears his throat.
I wanted to kill him.
Joe slips an apricot from his pocket and takes a bite. Lets him continue.
The baker.
His mouth is full.
Back in Germany?
David nods and dips his foot into the lake. Joe shrugs.
You should have.
He swallows and offers out the rest.
The war wasn’t over then.
They’re going home.
He works his mouth around the pit and spits it out.
David reaches for his hand and Joe takes it with a sticky palm.
How many kids you want, Dave?
He holds on a little tighter.
I’m thinking four, Web. Four little Liebgotts.
The fruit is a lump in his stomach.
(i can quit you cut it out)
It ends as quickly as it started.
Joe clasps an arm of David's shoulder before drawing him close.
The dock's thick with men doing the same.
Saying goodbye.
He drops his head to David's neck and gets pulled tighter. Fingers play with the hair on his neck.
I'll be seeing you.
I'll write.
He doesn't meet David's eyes.
They know the truth. He hates himself already.
Joe turns and walks, moves against the crowd.
He lets himself disappear.
(when i blinked you were gone)
Author: asemic
Pairing: Webster/Liebgott
Fandom,: Band of Brothers
Summary: Joe wants Web to change. Funny how things work out.
Rating: NC-17
A/N: Title and word snippets from lyrics by the goddess St. Vincent.
Webster saunters in like nothing happened, hanging names over their heads.
Joe looks at him, clean and soft. He wants to do more than wring his neck.
He wants to throw him Babe's way and show him how deep the splinters from Bastogne pierced. Remind him why Buck's not there, how he's cracked in the head. Share stories about Malarkey that end with him sitting alone with glazed eyes.
Joe had to see everyone change around him.
Now Web has to change.
He needs to break like the rest of them.
(i’ll make you sorry)
He's going to go home and find himself a nice girl.
He survived jumping out of planes, firefights, fucking exploding trees aiming for his ass. When he goes home he's landing on his feet.
Happily ever after and all that faerie tale shit.
Yeah, that's how it's going to end. Not him dying on some bullshit patrol.
He meets Web's eyes and there's a flare of heat. He pushes it down and lets it join his anger.
Ignores it until he can figure it out later.
Because there will be a later.
(give us news of the fall)
He's got a nice mouth.
He never noticed how it curves with a soft bend.
Joe follows the bounce of the cigarette on Webster's lower lip.
Full and pretty like it belongs on a woman. Too pink for his own good.
It follows him everywhere the rounded lower lip. It's impossible to fucking forget and he can't look away. He's tried.
Failed.
He jerks off facing the wall listening to everyone's steady breathing as they sleep. His finger is clamped between his teeth to keep himself from barking out a curse.
Joe comes with David's ringed mouth burned into his mind.
Cleaning himself off with his undershirt he stares at the bunk above him.
It's not enough.
(my face is red)
He remembers answering the questions truthfully.
Are you heterosexual?
Joe kept warm and whole through this clusterfuck by thinking about the girls he had. Breasts and hips; rosy skin. Their waxy lipstick as it smeared against his mouth.
The soft rush of white silk between his fingers when he pulled their slips off their bodies.
Yes.
Have you ever had intimate feelings about another male?
Webster and his square palms.
His ass, mouth, and the outline of his dick through his shorts.
The longing looks he throws Joe's way like he's begging for it. To touch and be touched.
Joe wants to fuck him and possess him. Pin him face first against a wall, grope and spread his ass, and feel his muscles tense and cock harden. Joe wants to tear at his sweat-damp hair and grip the rough cotton of his undershirt. Kiss him. Taste him.
Hold him tight.
No.
He passed the screening and received the stack of enlistment papers with the shrink's initials.
Made everything nice and official.
Now, sitting on the cold stone watching Web move between buildings he doesn't know what's right anymore. He can't ignore it either.
He empties his cup on the ground.
The mud and coffee run together.
(riding us into the ground)
He realizes it the morning Haguenau disappears in a haze.
He's lonely.
Fucking stupid since he's never alone. Can't even take a piss without a voice calling for him.
It's not the same.
Then Webster came back soft and searching. Reaching.
And he? Well.
Joe's looking for something too.
Funny, that.
(you’ll have to shout even louder)
He hates dancing around it.
Patience is a virtue he doesn't have.
All he wants is to throw him to the dirt and rub against Webster, pin him down.
He's impatient but not stupid.
So he slings an arm around Web’s shoulder as they walk. Curls a hand around his knee, lights his cigarette, bunks with him.
The line taunts him.
Joe's not one for boundaries. Sometimes you have to leap and brace for the landing.
(desperate don’t look good on you)
He needs to know. He has to make it worth the risk. Joe pulls the blanket off his body, lets him know what he's doing.
He's awake. Joe knows that. You spend enough time with someone and you know every sound they make, awake or sleeping.
And Webster isn't sleeping.
He strokes himself thinking of a warm mouth using a slow hand. He didn't bother to choke back the gasps or steady his breathing.
Joe wants him to know what he's doing and see the slide of his hand along his cock. To know that it's all his doing; David is bringing him to this point.
He comes thick in his fingers and against his chest. There's a sharp inhalation of breath from the mattress inches away.
He could reach out with a wet hand and find David's.
You like the show, Webster?
Joe turns his head and sees David's erection tenting his undershorts. He bites his lip and feels that burn.
Come here. Let me help you get it out of your system.
David crawls over him and waits. No need to wait, not anymore.
Joe hooks his thumbs in the elastic and brings them down.
He gives him what they need.
(you’ve got the answer)
He likes to watch Webster jerk off.
Hard not to when he's making these grunts and undignified noises. Digs his heels into the mattress as his muscles tense. He puts on one hell of a show.
Web's lying on Joe's chest, face flushed and skin warm. His mouth snaps open and his hips rise to counter his hand.
Joe holds him through his orgasm, strokes his shoulder, and runs his fingers along his neck.
Thinking of a pretty girl, huh?
He doesn’t want an answer.
Joe feels David's laugh, the muscles of his back tense before relaxing.
He gets a response low and thick.
No, you face down with your ass in the air.
His mouth dries and something tightens in his stomach.
Web rolls to face him and reaches down and focuses on him with hard eyes.
It's never gonna happen.
David's mouth steals his words.
(what was your question)
It's an itch that needs to be scratched.
Joe licks his lips and rolls spit in his mouth.
Leans over Web's crotch and works the zipper.
You sure?
He can't answer.
His mouth is full.
(got big plans for me)
A hand job here a blow job there.
Good thing the war's as good as done. They'd never find time to fight the fucking thing.
(more they want more)
Taste of semen in his mouth, thick around his tongue. Bitter.
He spits again, wets the dirt by David's feet.
David's still catching his breath riding that wave. His face is still flush and his mouth open.
Christ, he's-.
No. This isn’t.
Fuck. He shoves that down.
Zip up. We gotta get a move on it.
Joe gives himself a moment before walking out of the barn.
What about-
He shakes his head and fishes for his lighter. Sparks up his Chesterfield and takes a drag.
Joe?
He stalks ahead ignoring the heat in his ears and face.
The bite of smoke cleans the taste from his mouth.
(can you reach the spots)
Joe wants to ask.
How many others?
He runs his fingers through David's hair.
Who else?
David's sleeping deep and restful in their small room.
He hates him for making him do this for making him feel this way.
Joe climbs on top of him, pins David's arms above his head. Ignores his groggy questions and confusion.
It’s me, it’s me.
He yanks their pants as far as he needs.
Let me do this.
David lets out a sharp noise when he's finished. Joe licks the bite mark he left on David's forearm, sucks until it swells.
It doesn’t matter. Now it’s just him, only them.
I don’t want.
Joe swallows down the lump in his chest.
Don’t say no, David.
Please.
He doesn’t know what David’s thinking now.
Joe can’t even sort himself out.
(that need oiling and fixing)
He doesn't get the chance to spit the come from his mouth.
David pulls him up, shoves their mouths together, and licks his lips apart. The come leaks past his lips and he's cleaned by David's tongue.
Jesus.
He's trying to catch up with what happened.
Hands or mouth, Joe?
His head's still swimming and his jaw is tense.
Both.
David nods, lips and chin wet as he sinks to his knees. Pumps and sucks him off.
Wait.
Joe brings their mouths flush. He opens and lets the kiss grow messy.
Swallows.
(i think i understand)
They find some pretty girls.
Polite German conversation and cigarettes spread their legs and hitch up their skirts.
His girl scrapes his back and wraps her legs around him tighter as rolls his hips deeper.
Webster's next to him straddled by the blonde. Kissing German words into her neck and breasts.
When they fuck David makes obscene noises, little begging sounds. Curses and grunts, groans and whimpers that escape from his mouth.
Right now just heavy breathing.
Later it's just them. Joe face down on the cot his hips raised as David's cock rubs against his ass.
And David's making all sorts of noises.
(what would the neighbors think)
They talk. David about sharks and literature and the
endless expanse of the ocean. I want a home right there, on the Pacific.
Joe knows what he wants.
A wife, kids, and a big house. A good job. Yeah.
Raise the family right on the ocean, Joe.
He keeps his mouth clamped tight and waits for the subject to change.
I can take a boat out with the kids and teach them how to fish.
He stays silent for a long time.
You'd love it.
(bandage, pull it off)
His fingers drift to David's belt. He's swatted away.
Not tonight. I can't.
Fuck, I need-
Not this.
Joe feels the heat in his face and the weight in his body. The floor meets him and he feels ill.
Draws his knees to his chest.
Like some fucking child.
David crouches in front of him, watches with concerned eyes. Those fucking eyes grow dull and dirt scratched with every blink. Dead and sunken.
He doesn't want to see that when he looks at him.
They smell like death, rot and disease everywhere. He can’t scrub this away. Joe wants the cold again, the bone chilling numbness. A bullet, shrapnel; not this. Not what he's seen. Said. He told them.
He.
He doesn't want to be alone.
It's dark and silent and his body tired and empty. There's the quiet rasp of David's hands stroking the backs of his calves.
Their shaking breaths and the bubble of a sob he can't choke down.
He comes undone mud thick in his mouth.
(scare the monsters out)
He whistles low and slow.
David knows what it means.
Tonight.
He'll let Joe's icy fingers run up and down his spine. Joe will taste the chocolate and cigarettes David's been pushing through his mouth all day.
His eyes focus on the red glow of the cigarette and the column of smoke. Dave sucks on his lip and tries to hide a smile.
Joe sees it.
He shuts his eyes and hums as the truck moves along the mountain road.
Oh, that spell he weaves so well.
(just to feel where you are)
Sometimes he doesn't bother using his bed.
He slips into David's, curling closer and hikes the blanket under his chin. There’s the weight of an arm around his waist.
He could tell himself it’s because he’s cold.
He’d only be lying.
(and that’s the truth)
He pins him down licking wet trails along his cheeks. His spit's a bastard form of black face grease that he drags along David's jaw and to his mouth.
Joe, come on.
He doesn't stop, running the pads of his fingers along David's throat. Stroking, feeling the pulse throb harder.
You hurt me, David.
Tightens slightly with his thumb and middle finger.
He never stops pressing his mouth against David's face.
Joe.
David's voice vibrates in his fingertips. It's a warning.
He squeezes a little more.
Why didn't you listen to me out there?
David shoves him and he lands hard on his ass.
Why do you expect me to fix your fucking mistakes?
Nothing but cold, dead eyes.
I don't answer to you, Joe.
David scrapes his face with his sleeve and storms out of the room.
He's left alone with silence.
Sometimes he scares himself.
(laughing with a mouth of blood)
The antiseptic burns over Joe's knuckles.
He hisses.
Got him a couple times.
Splash of blood on his arm, split skin, and red burns.
I see.
The adrenaline still throbs through him. His legs bounce.
There are splotches of blood on the stone floor. Maybe his from where a tooth caught his skin. Odds are it belongs to that replacement fuck.
He walked back to David and extended a stiff hand and got one in return.
Like a reflex.
Joe bends his stiff hand and cracks his fingers.
Feels good.
He leans back on the bed and pulls David to his level.
Gotta get that energy out somehow.
(scent on your hands)
David clears his throat.
I wanted to kill him.
Joe slips an apricot from his pocket and takes a bite. Lets him continue.
The baker.
His mouth is full.
Back in Germany?
David nods and dips his foot into the lake. Joe shrugs.
You should have.
He swallows and offers out the rest.
The war wasn’t over then.
They’re going home.
He works his mouth around the pit and spits it out.
David reaches for his hand and Joe takes it with a sticky palm.
How many kids you want, Dave?
He holds on a little tighter.
I’m thinking four, Web. Four little Liebgotts.
The fruit is a lump in his stomach.
(i can quit you cut it out)
It ends as quickly as it started.
Joe clasps an arm of David's shoulder before drawing him close.
The dock's thick with men doing the same.
Saying goodbye.
He drops his head to David's neck and gets pulled tighter. Fingers play with the hair on his neck.
I'll be seeing you.
I'll write.
He doesn't meet David's eyes.
They know the truth. He hates himself already.
Joe turns and walks, moves against the crowd.
He lets himself disappear.
(when i blinked you were gone)