Invisible Lines (William/Bob) NC-17
Title: Invisible Lines
Pairing: William/Bob (Beckett/McLynn) (No, that is not a typo)
Rating: NC-17
Summary: Bob is used to wanting what he can't have. This poses a problem when what he wants wants him back. (~5100 words)
Discalimer: Not true. Made it up.
Notes: So. callsigns read an article about Bill Beckett putting gay porn in Mike Carden's luggage. "I'd open it to the butched two page spread i could find," he siad. Then she mentioned bears. Then I mentioned Daddy complexes. Then my brain went all to hell. So, this is for Jess, with hugs to schuyler for putting up with me, and huge thanks to gigantic for the speedy beta!
PS. This is Bob. He is one of the head guys at Crush Management. Bonnie works for Crush too. Bonnie is the best hag ever. And she and Pete are kinda beffie. Bob is one of the few people in the world who will wear the Stay Gold hoodie unironically. (Lex is the other one.)
It started with a deleted scene. Bob was happy enough to play along, nodding as Alan told him how to grab William’s arm and “pull him up, back, press him against the wall like this, okay? Put your whole body into it”. William was playing Evil William that day, and he was relishing it. When Alan yelled action, Bob followed his directions clearly and carefully, folding his hand around William’s arm and yanking him away from Mike. “Keep your eyes on him, not on me,” Alan was saying and Bob wasn’t sure which of them he was talking to, but he fixed his eyes on William’s face as his back thudded against the wall of their fake studio. William’s eyes flashed and he inhaled sharply and Bob thought shit, too hard before William’s hips were arching off the wall a fraction and Alan was yelling cut behind them. Bob slid his hand to William’s shoulder and gave it a comforting squeeze.
“You okay? Was that too much?” he asked quietly, leaning in so the others wouldn’t hear. William shook him off, hair falling into his eyes.
“’M fine,” he mumbled in reply, not quite meeting Bob’s eyes. Bob knew he was lying-everyone always knew when William was lying-but he let it go when Alan decided against another take.
“Okay,” he nodded, and William slid out from between the wall and Bob’s chest. Bob watched him for a long minute, making sure he wasn’t trying to do too much too fast, which had been William’s MO since he was seventeen. But aside from a slight tremor in his hand when he pushed his hair behind his ear, he looked fine. He looked like William.
Bob let himself look for another few seconds before forcing his attention onto Alan and the crew. “So, what else to we have to get through today?”
*
They were holed up in their hotel the next night, and Bob was cursing the mediocrity of his internet access (and his own stubborn stupidity at not just renting a place in LA for shit like this, but Bob had never wanted to be one of those guys who had a place in LA) when there was a knock. He pushed himself away from his desk and walked through the suite to the door, brain still stuck on an email to Def Jam about upcoming event marketing. He opened the door to see William on the other side, the homeless look he usually sported in his ancient t-shirt and ratty jeans accentuated by bare feet and a half empty bottle of Jack Daniel’s in one hand.
William swayed a little. “Hey,” he smiled when Bob reached out a hand reflexively, steadying William against the doorframe.
“Hey yourself,” Bob smiled indulgently.
“Can I?” William asked, gesturing inside and Bob swallowed a small sigh and stepped out of the way. William was a talker when he was drunk, and Bob always listened. Well, listened was a bit strong, but Bob was practiced at letting William talk himself out, nodding where necessary and enjoying the wide arc of William’s arms as he made his point, the smile he always got when William finally understood his own rambling.
He closed the door and turned to see William in the center of the room, just looking. It was a three-room suite, and Bob had spread out in it, his jacket thrown over the arm of the couch, his laptop still open on the desk. To their right was the bedroom, and the bath that was nearly the size of his first New York apartment. “Nice room, man,” he smiled over his shoulder and Bob shook his head.
“Same as yours, with a shittier view,” he said, smiling, and William laughed.
“Crazy, that’s crazy,” he mumbled and Bob understood. They’d all spent too many nights in cramped vans and shitty motels for any of this to seem fully real.
William settled onto the couch, tucking his feet under himself and leaning into the arm. “C’mere,” he waved Bob over with the hand still holding the bottle, its contents sloshing against the sides. Bob sat next to him and William shifted a little into Bob’s side as the cushions settled around his weight. William barely made any dent at all. William’s head fell to Bob’s shoulder, his hair tickling the spot at his neck where his black t-shirt ended.
“Did you miss me?” William whispered and then giggled a little.
“Since dinner?” Bob asked, teasing. “Obviously.”
William sighed and leaned in a little more heavily. Bob shifted so William fit under his arm, hand rubbing comforting circles on Williams shoulder. He waited for the floodgate of words to start but William just stayed still and quiet for a few long minutes, his breathing too erratic to be sleepy.
“Hey,” Bob said finally, “are you-“
“Fuck,” William hissed, and Bob was startled by a flurry of movement, long limbs disentangling as William hooked one leg over Bob’s, turning until he was straddling Bob’s lap. The bottle fell to the carpet with a dull thud and William braced his hands on the back of the couch, Bob blinking up from between them. William’s hair was mussed and his lips were wet and parted but Bob focused on them rather than William’s eyes, shining and bright and demanding.
“Bill,” he started, voice as still as he could make it and William licked his lips and pressed his hips down a fraction. “Bill,” he tried again, sounding reasonable even though his pulse was racing from the sheer wrongness of what was happening. He hadn’t let himself think about this ever, not even when William was liquid heat under his arm as they left dark nightclubs, not even when William made soft breathy noises from his bunk on the bus, but now all he wanted was to fit his hands over William’s hips and shift him forward a fraction until his weight resettled over Bob’s cock, let him roll his hips and relieve some of the pressure that was starting to build. He dug his nails into his palms and forced them still on the couch cushions.
“Bob,” William said back, and Bob could tell he was trying for sultry, but he pressed his hips down again as he spoke and the word came out just a little needful. Bob shivered.
“Come on, man, what are you-“ But he was cut off as William settled back on Bob’s thighs and slid one palm flat down Bob’s chest from his clavicle to his belt.
“Can I?” William asked, breathless, and didn’t wait for an answer as he tugged up the hem of Bob’s t-shirt and started on his belt buckle. His fingers were long and cool and when they brushed the hard plane of Bob’s stomach, he sucked in a harsh breath.
“God,” Bob hissed, and he meant to follow it up with a stop, don’t, but William was tugging open his jeans, and Bob grabbed his wrists hard enough to feel the slide of skin over bone. William made a small whimpering sound and fell forward, breath hot on Bob’s neck.
“Please, I want to,” William panted, “please.” William smelled of alcohol and cheap cologne and he tugged a little, trying to get his hands out of Bob’s grasp. Bob didn’t let him.
“William,” he started, but he didn’t know what to say, and William stopped pulling away and pressed closer, opening his mouth to trail his tongue over Bob’s neck. “Fuck, come on,” he said, horrified that he sounded more turned on than upset.
William whispered low in his ear. “Let me. Just once. Let me make you come.”
Bob was so hard he could feel his cock straining to get through his open fly. The right response was obvious, but William was making it hard to concentrate, gently biting at Bob’s earlobe. “Please,” he repeated and gave up trying to pull his wrists free. Instead, he just ran his fingertips over the skin he’d already exposed. Bob’s eyes fluttered at the contact and his grip loosened enough that Bill could twist one hand loose and slip it up under his shirt.
Bob could stop this. He could pick William up and carry him to the door and drop him on his ass on the other side of it. But he knew the second William’s nails raked over his nipple that he wouldn’t, that this was happening, that he was past saying no. William could sense it too, and he grinned when Bob let go of his other hand, biting his lip and settling back a few inches to finish unzipping Bob’s fly slowly, like something out of a porn film. William’s eyes were half-mast and hazy, and Bob let his head fall back into the cushions of the couch as William slid backward off Bob’s legs and onto his knees.
“Shit,” Bob breathed as William’s fingers hooked in his waistband and William laughed.
“Don’t worry, I’ve got you,” he smiled almost lazily and Bob felt a cold flush of embarrassment.
William didn’t even bother pulling his jeans to his ankles; he tugged them down just enough to get a decent angle and leaned in. William’s hand wrapped around his cock with enough pressure to make him suck in a breath through his clenched teeth. Bob had to close his eyes the second after William’s mouth wrapped hot and eager around the head. He was dizzy, panting. His hips were out of his control, jerking up into William’s mouth when he ran his tongue along the hot vein and he forced his eyes open, looked down where William’s hair fell softly over his forehead.
He wasn’t ever going to forget this. It was like getting a present you never thought you could ask for, William’s fingers fanned across his bare stomach, and Bob reached down to brush the back of his hand against William’s cheek as it hollowed, sucking hard enough to make Bob groan. He was close but he wasn’t going to push, he’d never pushed William for anything, knew him well enough to know that praise was better than orders. “Just like that, yeah,” he murmured when William sped up a fraction and William took the praise and ran with it, his hand moving faster until Bob was gripping the cushions in his effort to not fuck William’s mouth. He came a minute later and William’s thumb stroked comforting circles over his navel even as he swallowed.
Bob was barely functional when William rocked back on his heels and stood up, still swaying a little. His mouth was red and wet and there was a drop of come on his chin. Bob could see the rigid outline of his cock through his too-small jeans. Panic settled around the want in Bob’s belly.
But William just smiled and took a few backward steps to the door. “Night,” he whispered hoarsely as he pulled the door open and slipped out quietly.
The bottle of JD was still on the carpet, and Bob drank a third of it before finally passing out.
**
I’m not sorry, the email started, and Bob sat back against his pillows, Blackberry almost falling from his fingers. He’d dreamed of William, just snatches really, of long hair and liquid eyes and bow lips. But the morning brought a bit of a hangover and a sinking feeling in his chest. He’d fucked up. They worked together, and William was so fucking young, and it didn’t matter that William could worm his way into Bob’s dreams with a sly grin or a light touch. It wasn’t ever supposed to go farther.
I’m not sorry, and I hope you aren’t either. It was probably a bad idea, almost as bad as typing this while I’m still drunk, while I can still taste you, but I wanted you to know that I didn’t come over tonight because I was drunk. I was drunk because I’ve wanted to do that for a long time. I know it’s a bad idea, I know that you’re probably hating me right now, or you, but I’m not sorry. It won’t happen again unless you want it to. Just tell me. Just touch me, and I’m yours, William
The time stamp on the email was 2:34am, not even twenty minutes after William walked out of his hotel room.
Bob read the email four times before his phone rang, Butch and Mike asking about their scheduled morning meeting.
“Give me fifteen,” he answered shortly, and ended the call. He almost showered, but he could still feel the ghost of William’s fingers on his stomach, the trail of his tongue on his neck, and he tugged his jeans on without bothering.
The ball was in his court, and he knew what he had to do. Without William in his lap, making everything seem warm and light and okay, the answer was glaringly, painfully obvious. William Beckett was, in his entirety, a bad idea.
William looked up when he walked into the meeting, but Bob didn’t catch his eye. Conversation drifted over him like a wave, and Bob tried to keep up, but William was close, and he studiously avoided looking at him. Bob managed to keep his distance all day and into the evening. Not a touch until after dinner, when Sisky pushed past William to get to the elevators. William stumbled and Bob put a hand out without thinking, just a steadying touch at his elbow before pulling his hand back like he’d been stung. William looked from his hand to his face and Bob saw his eyes dull even as he forced a small smile. “Right, okay,” William said quietly, and Bob had to dig his nails into his palms as William turned and strode away.
**
Two weeks later, Bob hadn’t been able to make it a day without some sort of William related fantasy. He fell asleep to the image of William on his knees and woke up from dreams of William draped over his chest and jerked off to the idea of William pressed against the inside of his shower stall.
William was clearly unaware, and apparently trying to be true to his word and forget the whole thing had happened. He was back to leaving slightly drunken rambling phone messages about Chicago and their last minute scheduling and the stupidity of photo shoots.
“Yeah, but you always look sexy,” Bob said in response and William paused.
“Thanks,” he replied, suddenly quiet, and Bob closed his eyes as William hung up.
It wouldn’t be bad, he thought that afternoon in his apartment. Just call him back and tell him you want him. Bob never even got to kiss him that night, and the idea of it, of just grabbing William and pressing him against the wall and kissing him hard enough to make William moan, makes his stomach hurt with want.
Bob was clearly out of his mind.
He called the one person who he thought might be a voice of reason.
“So,” he asked, “hypothetically speaking, if one were to be propositioned by a coworker, what would be the correct response?”
“Who the hell propositioned you!?” Bonnie squealed and Bob could hear Pete and Joe in the background, making questioning noises. He remembered a moment too late that she was staying at Pete’s in LA for the week.
“Bon, jesus, shut up,” he hissed and he could hear shuffling.
“Sorry boys, personal call,” she called out and a few seconds later, “I’m in the bathroom. Who the fuck wants to sleep with you?”
“I said hypothetically,” he sighed, but he knew he was screwed.
“Fine, whatever, let’s say hypothetically that it’s you. Who hypothetically wants to sleep with you, and I guess the bigger question is do you hypothetically want to sleep with them, or are you looking for a good way to say no? Hypothetically.”
Bob rubbed the bridge of his nose. “Fine. Hypothetically, lets say its one of the boys.” ‘The boys’ are what he and Bonnie called their little cadre of bands. Boys, all of them, young and stupid and gorgeous across the board.
“Gabe?” Bonnie asked, a little breathless, since Gabe was Bonnie’s go-to answer for every question having to do with sex. He knew her, and she knew the boys, and Pete would be the next guess, followed by Brendon, followed by William. He just bit the bullet.
“Bill,” he said with a sigh, and Bonnie went quiet. “Bon? Come on, I need your advice here.”
Bonnie burst into laughter, the sounds echoing off the tile in Pete’s bathroom. “You are so fucking screwed,” she crowed and Bob fought the urge to just hang up.
“Thanks,” he said icily and she sobered a little, but he could still hear the grin in her voice.
“Well, at least I know the answer to the ‘are you interested back’ part.”
“Wha- why?” He asked, defensive, and she huffed in annoyance.
“He’s exactly your type, Robert, and you know it.”
“And what type is that?”
“Twinky and sweet and good on their knees,” she answered, and Bob could almost see the wry tilt of her head.
Bob stared at his shoes. Bonnie wasn’t wrong-William was exactly his type, always had been, but that was what made his job so much fun in addition to be so damned frustrating. But he’d drawn a line there that he’d never crossed, not until two weeks ago. “I work with him,” Bob reminded her, and Bonnie snorted.
“What, you’re worried sleeping with him will affect your professional relationship?”
“Frankly, yes.” It was reasonable to think that-
“And it hasn’t already started affecting your professional relationship?” she asked, interrupting his line of logic. “Knowing that you could have him if you wanted him… that doesn’t make you think ‘what if’ every time he’s in the room?”
“Well, yeah, but I still think,”
“Stop,” Bonnie said fondly. “Stop thinking. He’s not seventeen anymore, Bobby. He’s a grownup who needs a little looking after, and he knows you as well as I do, and he thinks you’re the right man for the job. Plus,” she added cheekily, “talk about good on his knees.”
“Tell me about it,” Bob groaned and Bonnie paused, but thankfully didn’t prod him for more details.
“Look, just. Think about it outside the job. If it doesn’t work out, you won’t be the first guy forced to work with an ex,” Bonnie said plainly and Bob nodded. There was the voice of reason he’d needed. “If you think you can make each other happy, that’s really the question, so. Stop thinking, and figure out how you feel about the kid. Then get your head out of your ass and make him dinner and fuck him senseless, okay?”
“Fine,” Bob threw his hands up, laughing. “Why do I ever come to you with this shit?”
“And take pictures!” Bonnie added.
Bob hung up the phone.
**
“God, this is a stupid idea,” Bob said to his reflection for the third time that night. He was dressed in his simple black polo shirt (Patrick 2.0, since apparently half his wardrobe came from Pete without him noticing), and dark jeans, and at this point he’d fidgeted so much, he was grateful he didn’t have any hair to worry about.
William was due over at nine o’clock. He opened the Merlot at 8:52 and drank half a glass in two gulps, pouring himself another, and one for William. He’d gone with pizza since he knew how William liked his without having to ask, and the wine felt a little dumb but. But, but, but. He’d been second guessing for four days now, ever since he’d called and “So, we should talk. Why don’t you come by after the Fuse thing on Thursday?”
William had sounded happy but uncertain, and Bob still wasn’t sure that this was the best idea, so he’d left it vague.
His cell rang at 8:55 and he picked up, thinking it was William running late, or canceling altogether. “Is he there yet?” Bonnie asked and Bob almost crushed the phone in his bare hand.
“No,” he gritted out, “and you are so the one I’m blaming if this goes to hell,” he added.
“Tell me what he’s wearing!”
“It’s William, Bon. He only owns four shirts,” Bob sat heavily on his easy chair and sighed.
“Then tell me if he brings something! I told him you like wine, so if he brings something awful, just drink it,” she said sagely.
“You told him what?” Bob said incredulously, and Bonnie made a tsking noise.
“He called me and asked! He sounded so fucking nervous, Bobby, you have no idea. It was so. Cute.”
Bob rested his head back and closed his eyes. “This is not the junior prom, Bonnie. We need to have a serious conversation about how this-“ the doorbell buzzed and cut him off, and Bonnie squealed.
“Less thinking, more kissing!” she yelled as he hung up on her again. He paused to turn the phone off entirely before tugging the door open.
Bob was wrong. William apparently now owned five shirts, including this one-a tan v-neck sweater in a soft fabric with long sleeves that clung to his delicate wrists. There was a bottle wrapped in brown paper under one arm. His jeans were familiar, and the ratty sneakers on his feet, but Bob badly wanted to touch this new shirt. “Hi,” William said and tucked his hair behind his ear with a shy smile. “I’m not late, right?”
“No, just. Come in.”
Bob opened the door wider and let William slip in past him. The wine glasses were on the table and William stood in the middle of the room uncomfortably. Bob wasn’t big on decorating so the furniture was pretty sparse. He had promo posters on his walls for bands stretching all the way back to the Step Kings, and his Manager of the Year Award was tucked discreetly onto his bookshelf. William had been to his apartment before, but this time the air was charged, and he shifted from one foot to the other.
“I, um. I didn’t know what you liked, so I hope this is okay,” he said and held out the bottle. It was a nice Chardonnay, a little expensive, one of those that the salesperson picks out for you when you walk in looking clueless.
“It’s great, thanks,” Bob said a little stiffly, and William’s smile faltered. Bob took a deep breath. “Go ahead and have a drink; I’ll go chill this one.” He tucked the wine into his rack in his fridge and leaned on the counter. William was twenty feet away in the other room, nervous and gorgeous and Bob was already fucking this up. How do you say ‘I’ve wanted you for years, I just don’t know what I’m doing’, he wondered with a sigh.
“Bob?” William said behind him and when he turned, William was an arm’s length away, glass of wine in one hand. His other arm was crossed in front of him, hand tucked under his elbow. He looked smaller than usual, balled up in a bundle of nervous energy. He licked his lips thoughtlessly and Bob’s pulse jumped. “Is everything okay?” he asked, unsure, and Bob wondered if William was trying to be true to his word and not push, or if maybe he’d rethought the whole thing and realized that Bob was way the hell too old.
But other than the age difference, Bob had started to realize, they had everything in common. He’d never have to explain his job to William, never have to apologize for long trips, or worry about William being jealous of his time with Pete or Ryan or Jon. They both lived and breathed this insane scene. William bit his lip and looked up at him with wide, worried eyes. “Maybe I should just,” he started and Bob shook his head.
“Come here,” the words came out roughly, but Bob put his hand out and William stepped into his chest with a shaky breath.
“Yeah?” William said, hopeful and breathless, and Bob smiled and slid his hand around the soft fabric at William’s waist.
“Yeah,” he said, nodding, and William smiled wide and leaned in to kiss him. It was sweet, soft and warm and William tasted like wine and the slice of pepperoni he must have stolen off the pizza while Bob’s back was turned. Bob’s hand spanned most of William’s back, pulling him close enough that William went to wind his arms around Bob’s neck. Bob laughed and took the wine glass from him, placing it on the counter behind them. “You’re a menace,” he grinned as the wine sloshed onto the counter, William pulling him closer.
“Enthusiastic,” William grinned back and tucked his hand behind Bob’s neck, pulling him in for another kiss. This one was hotter, deep and slow, and William moaned softly when Bob’s hand drifted lower, cupping his ass. “Yeah,” he said, low and sexy as Bob slid his other hand down too, pulling William closer and rolling his hips a little, both of them already panting at the friction. William’s arms tightened around his neck and he wrapped one leg around Bob’s thigh, Bob giving him a boost up until the other leg was off the ground too. William grinned down at him, mouth red and inviting.
“Bedroom,” he said, and Bob quirked an eyebrow. “Please?” William finished, saccharine sweet, before biting gently at Bob’s lower lip. Bob growled and hoisted William up a few inches before carrying him down the hall.
The bed dipped a little as William bounced onto it, sliding forward and pulling up Bob’s shirt from the bottom. “We were supposed to talk,” Bob hissed as William ran his hands over Bob’s bare chest, biting at his stomach.
“Fuck talking,” William breathed against his skin before tugging at the button on his pants. “You never listen to me anyway,” he said with mock annoyance and Bob laughed and pressed William back into the mattress, crawling up to meet him. “Hey,” William smiled against his lips as Bob finally slipped his hands under William’s sweater and tugged it up over his head.
“I always listen to you,” Bob murmured and dipped his head to suck gently on William’s nipple.
“Do no-ahhh,” William groaned and arched under him. “If you did,” he added, panting, “you’d have known how I felt about you months ago.” Bob met his eyes intently.
“William,” he started and was cut off by a hand snaking into the front of his jeans.
“Let’s just leave it at ‘you’re an idiot, McLynn’, and move on, okay?” William kissed his throat and Bob just dropped his head and took a deep breath through his nose as William wrapped his fingers around his cock. “Tonight, you can fuck me to make up for it,” he added slyly and Bob bucked into William’s hand.
They shed the rest of their clothes fast after that, William winding himself around Bob as soon as he was naked, sucking a harsh bruise into his chest. William couldn’t seem to get enough, reaching out to run his hands over Bob’s shoulders, biceps, ass. He let out a shuddered cry when Bob closed his fist around his cock. He was already hard and hot and a few sure strokes had William babbling, begging underneath him.
“On your knees,” Bob told him, reaching into his side table for lube and a condom. William rolled over eagerly and pressed back at the first press of Bob’s slick fingers at his entrance. Bob took his time, a little awed at William’s long, lean form, the way he whimpered and threw his head back as Bob pressed in deeper.
“Fuck, please,” William said with a sob as one finger became two, and he twisted them a little to watch William writhe. He slid the condom on, hissing at the contact, and lined up, his hands huge on William’s slim hips. “Yeah, yeah, Bob, oh god,” William took a few deep breaths and opened around him until Bob had to close his eyes to keep from coming at the sight of his cock disappearing into William Beckett’s ass.
He made the rhythm slow and deep, steady but for the way Bob’s knees slipped a little on his comforter when William dropped to his elbows with a low moan. “You want more?” he asked, snapping his hips hard, and William whined high in his throat and tightened his fingers in the pillow next to his head.
“Y-yes, god,” he panted and Bob let himself go, fucking William hard enough to slide him forward on the bed a few inches, hands gripping his hips to hold him in place. William made an incoherent groan and twisted, pushing back as best he could with Bob pinning him in place. Bob watched as he snaked a hand under his body and he could feel the ripple through his body as William grasped his cock, breathe getting stuck in his throat.
“Come on, that’s it, so fucking gorgeous,” Bob growled and William came with a yell, his whole body contracting under Bob, around him. Bob only managed a few more hard thrusts faster that, falling forward and pressing his mouth to the back of William’s neck as he came with long, low groan. He wound his arm around William’s middle, riding out the aftershocks. He lowered himself to the bed slowly, tucking William against his chest before pulling out slowly and kissing his way down William’s pale shoulder.
“Shit,” William exhaled, and Bob could hear the smile in his voice. “Knew that would be amazing.”
“Mmm,” Bob hummed in agreement as he leaned away to toss the condom.
“C’mere,” William mumbled and Bob slid back behind him with a handful of tissues. He wiped William’s stomach clean, then his fingers, smiling when William stopped him long enough to slide one still-slick finger into his mouth, licking it clean.
“God, you’re dirty,” he shook his head and William rolled his eyes.
“You love it,” he said and Bob just sighed and let William rustle around until he was flopped half on top of Bob, fingers rubbing his hip.
They lay there for a few quiet moments before Bob forced his eyes open. “We should eat something,” he said, “the pizza-“
“It’ll still be there when we wake up. Sleep.”
“I’m going to make sure you eat more, Beckett,” he grumbled, but he pulled the end of the covers over them both.
“’M gonna make sure you work less, McLynn,” William mumbled back before drifting off.
Yeah, Bob thought, his fingers tangled in William’s hair. That’ll work.
Pairing: William/Bob (Beckett/McLynn) (No, that is not a typo)
Rating: NC-17
Summary: Bob is used to wanting what he can't have. This poses a problem when what he wants wants him back. (~5100 words)
Discalimer: Not true. Made it up.
Notes: So. callsigns read an article about Bill Beckett putting gay porn in Mike Carden's luggage. "I'd open it to the butched two page spread i could find," he siad. Then she mentioned bears. Then I mentioned Daddy complexes. Then my brain went all to hell. So, this is for Jess, with hugs to schuyler for putting up with me, and huge thanks to gigantic for the speedy beta!
PS. This is Bob. He is one of the head guys at Crush Management. Bonnie works for Crush too. Bonnie is the best hag ever. And she and Pete are kinda beffie. Bob is one of the few people in the world who will wear the Stay Gold hoodie unironically. (Lex is the other one.)
It started with a deleted scene. Bob was happy enough to play along, nodding as Alan told him how to grab William’s arm and “pull him up, back, press him against the wall like this, okay? Put your whole body into it”. William was playing Evil William that day, and he was relishing it. When Alan yelled action, Bob followed his directions clearly and carefully, folding his hand around William’s arm and yanking him away from Mike. “Keep your eyes on him, not on me,” Alan was saying and Bob wasn’t sure which of them he was talking to, but he fixed his eyes on William’s face as his back thudded against the wall of their fake studio. William’s eyes flashed and he inhaled sharply and Bob thought shit, too hard before William’s hips were arching off the wall a fraction and Alan was yelling cut behind them. Bob slid his hand to William’s shoulder and gave it a comforting squeeze.
“You okay? Was that too much?” he asked quietly, leaning in so the others wouldn’t hear. William shook him off, hair falling into his eyes.
“’M fine,” he mumbled in reply, not quite meeting Bob’s eyes. Bob knew he was lying-everyone always knew when William was lying-but he let it go when Alan decided against another take.
“Okay,” he nodded, and William slid out from between the wall and Bob’s chest. Bob watched him for a long minute, making sure he wasn’t trying to do too much too fast, which had been William’s MO since he was seventeen. But aside from a slight tremor in his hand when he pushed his hair behind his ear, he looked fine. He looked like William.
Bob let himself look for another few seconds before forcing his attention onto Alan and the crew. “So, what else to we have to get through today?”
*
They were holed up in their hotel the next night, and Bob was cursing the mediocrity of his internet access (and his own stubborn stupidity at not just renting a place in LA for shit like this, but Bob had never wanted to be one of those guys who had a place in LA) when there was a knock. He pushed himself away from his desk and walked through the suite to the door, brain still stuck on an email to Def Jam about upcoming event marketing. He opened the door to see William on the other side, the homeless look he usually sported in his ancient t-shirt and ratty jeans accentuated by bare feet and a half empty bottle of Jack Daniel’s in one hand.
William swayed a little. “Hey,” he smiled when Bob reached out a hand reflexively, steadying William against the doorframe.
“Hey yourself,” Bob smiled indulgently.
“Can I?” William asked, gesturing inside and Bob swallowed a small sigh and stepped out of the way. William was a talker when he was drunk, and Bob always listened. Well, listened was a bit strong, but Bob was practiced at letting William talk himself out, nodding where necessary and enjoying the wide arc of William’s arms as he made his point, the smile he always got when William finally understood his own rambling.
He closed the door and turned to see William in the center of the room, just looking. It was a three-room suite, and Bob had spread out in it, his jacket thrown over the arm of the couch, his laptop still open on the desk. To their right was the bedroom, and the bath that was nearly the size of his first New York apartment. “Nice room, man,” he smiled over his shoulder and Bob shook his head.
“Same as yours, with a shittier view,” he said, smiling, and William laughed.
“Crazy, that’s crazy,” he mumbled and Bob understood. They’d all spent too many nights in cramped vans and shitty motels for any of this to seem fully real.
William settled onto the couch, tucking his feet under himself and leaning into the arm. “C’mere,” he waved Bob over with the hand still holding the bottle, its contents sloshing against the sides. Bob sat next to him and William shifted a little into Bob’s side as the cushions settled around his weight. William barely made any dent at all. William’s head fell to Bob’s shoulder, his hair tickling the spot at his neck where his black t-shirt ended.
“Did you miss me?” William whispered and then giggled a little.
“Since dinner?” Bob asked, teasing. “Obviously.”
William sighed and leaned in a little more heavily. Bob shifted so William fit under his arm, hand rubbing comforting circles on Williams shoulder. He waited for the floodgate of words to start but William just stayed still and quiet for a few long minutes, his breathing too erratic to be sleepy.
“Hey,” Bob said finally, “are you-“
“Fuck,” William hissed, and Bob was startled by a flurry of movement, long limbs disentangling as William hooked one leg over Bob’s, turning until he was straddling Bob’s lap. The bottle fell to the carpet with a dull thud and William braced his hands on the back of the couch, Bob blinking up from between them. William’s hair was mussed and his lips were wet and parted but Bob focused on them rather than William’s eyes, shining and bright and demanding.
“Bill,” he started, voice as still as he could make it and William licked his lips and pressed his hips down a fraction. “Bill,” he tried again, sounding reasonable even though his pulse was racing from the sheer wrongness of what was happening. He hadn’t let himself think about this ever, not even when William was liquid heat under his arm as they left dark nightclubs, not even when William made soft breathy noises from his bunk on the bus, but now all he wanted was to fit his hands over William’s hips and shift him forward a fraction until his weight resettled over Bob’s cock, let him roll his hips and relieve some of the pressure that was starting to build. He dug his nails into his palms and forced them still on the couch cushions.
“Bob,” William said back, and Bob could tell he was trying for sultry, but he pressed his hips down again as he spoke and the word came out just a little needful. Bob shivered.
“Come on, man, what are you-“ But he was cut off as William settled back on Bob’s thighs and slid one palm flat down Bob’s chest from his clavicle to his belt.
“Can I?” William asked, breathless, and didn’t wait for an answer as he tugged up the hem of Bob’s t-shirt and started on his belt buckle. His fingers were long and cool and when they brushed the hard plane of Bob’s stomach, he sucked in a harsh breath.
“God,” Bob hissed, and he meant to follow it up with a stop, don’t, but William was tugging open his jeans, and Bob grabbed his wrists hard enough to feel the slide of skin over bone. William made a small whimpering sound and fell forward, breath hot on Bob’s neck.
“Please, I want to,” William panted, “please.” William smelled of alcohol and cheap cologne and he tugged a little, trying to get his hands out of Bob’s grasp. Bob didn’t let him.
“William,” he started, but he didn’t know what to say, and William stopped pulling away and pressed closer, opening his mouth to trail his tongue over Bob’s neck. “Fuck, come on,” he said, horrified that he sounded more turned on than upset.
William whispered low in his ear. “Let me. Just once. Let me make you come.”
Bob was so hard he could feel his cock straining to get through his open fly. The right response was obvious, but William was making it hard to concentrate, gently biting at Bob’s earlobe. “Please,” he repeated and gave up trying to pull his wrists free. Instead, he just ran his fingertips over the skin he’d already exposed. Bob’s eyes fluttered at the contact and his grip loosened enough that Bill could twist one hand loose and slip it up under his shirt.
Bob could stop this. He could pick William up and carry him to the door and drop him on his ass on the other side of it. But he knew the second William’s nails raked over his nipple that he wouldn’t, that this was happening, that he was past saying no. William could sense it too, and he grinned when Bob let go of his other hand, biting his lip and settling back a few inches to finish unzipping Bob’s fly slowly, like something out of a porn film. William’s eyes were half-mast and hazy, and Bob let his head fall back into the cushions of the couch as William slid backward off Bob’s legs and onto his knees.
“Shit,” Bob breathed as William’s fingers hooked in his waistband and William laughed.
“Don’t worry, I’ve got you,” he smiled almost lazily and Bob felt a cold flush of embarrassment.
William didn’t even bother pulling his jeans to his ankles; he tugged them down just enough to get a decent angle and leaned in. William’s hand wrapped around his cock with enough pressure to make him suck in a breath through his clenched teeth. Bob had to close his eyes the second after William’s mouth wrapped hot and eager around the head. He was dizzy, panting. His hips were out of his control, jerking up into William’s mouth when he ran his tongue along the hot vein and he forced his eyes open, looked down where William’s hair fell softly over his forehead.
He wasn’t ever going to forget this. It was like getting a present you never thought you could ask for, William’s fingers fanned across his bare stomach, and Bob reached down to brush the back of his hand against William’s cheek as it hollowed, sucking hard enough to make Bob groan. He was close but he wasn’t going to push, he’d never pushed William for anything, knew him well enough to know that praise was better than orders. “Just like that, yeah,” he murmured when William sped up a fraction and William took the praise and ran with it, his hand moving faster until Bob was gripping the cushions in his effort to not fuck William’s mouth. He came a minute later and William’s thumb stroked comforting circles over his navel even as he swallowed.
Bob was barely functional when William rocked back on his heels and stood up, still swaying a little. His mouth was red and wet and there was a drop of come on his chin. Bob could see the rigid outline of his cock through his too-small jeans. Panic settled around the want in Bob’s belly.
But William just smiled and took a few backward steps to the door. “Night,” he whispered hoarsely as he pulled the door open and slipped out quietly.
The bottle of JD was still on the carpet, and Bob drank a third of it before finally passing out.
**
I’m not sorry, the email started, and Bob sat back against his pillows, Blackberry almost falling from his fingers. He’d dreamed of William, just snatches really, of long hair and liquid eyes and bow lips. But the morning brought a bit of a hangover and a sinking feeling in his chest. He’d fucked up. They worked together, and William was so fucking young, and it didn’t matter that William could worm his way into Bob’s dreams with a sly grin or a light touch. It wasn’t ever supposed to go farther.
I’m not sorry, and I hope you aren’t either. It was probably a bad idea, almost as bad as typing this while I’m still drunk, while I can still taste you, but I wanted you to know that I didn’t come over tonight because I was drunk. I was drunk because I’ve wanted to do that for a long time. I know it’s a bad idea, I know that you’re probably hating me right now, or you, but I’m not sorry. It won’t happen again unless you want it to. Just tell me. Just touch me, and I’m yours, William
The time stamp on the email was 2:34am, not even twenty minutes after William walked out of his hotel room.
Bob read the email four times before his phone rang, Butch and Mike asking about their scheduled morning meeting.
“Give me fifteen,” he answered shortly, and ended the call. He almost showered, but he could still feel the ghost of William’s fingers on his stomach, the trail of his tongue on his neck, and he tugged his jeans on without bothering.
The ball was in his court, and he knew what he had to do. Without William in his lap, making everything seem warm and light and okay, the answer was glaringly, painfully obvious. William Beckett was, in his entirety, a bad idea.
William looked up when he walked into the meeting, but Bob didn’t catch his eye. Conversation drifted over him like a wave, and Bob tried to keep up, but William was close, and he studiously avoided looking at him. Bob managed to keep his distance all day and into the evening. Not a touch until after dinner, when Sisky pushed past William to get to the elevators. William stumbled and Bob put a hand out without thinking, just a steadying touch at his elbow before pulling his hand back like he’d been stung. William looked from his hand to his face and Bob saw his eyes dull even as he forced a small smile. “Right, okay,” William said quietly, and Bob had to dig his nails into his palms as William turned and strode away.
**
Two weeks later, Bob hadn’t been able to make it a day without some sort of William related fantasy. He fell asleep to the image of William on his knees and woke up from dreams of William draped over his chest and jerked off to the idea of William pressed against the inside of his shower stall.
William was clearly unaware, and apparently trying to be true to his word and forget the whole thing had happened. He was back to leaving slightly drunken rambling phone messages about Chicago and their last minute scheduling and the stupidity of photo shoots.
“Yeah, but you always look sexy,” Bob said in response and William paused.
“Thanks,” he replied, suddenly quiet, and Bob closed his eyes as William hung up.
It wouldn’t be bad, he thought that afternoon in his apartment. Just call him back and tell him you want him. Bob never even got to kiss him that night, and the idea of it, of just grabbing William and pressing him against the wall and kissing him hard enough to make William moan, makes his stomach hurt with want.
Bob was clearly out of his mind.
He called the one person who he thought might be a voice of reason.
“So,” he asked, “hypothetically speaking, if one were to be propositioned by a coworker, what would be the correct response?”
“Who the hell propositioned you!?” Bonnie squealed and Bob could hear Pete and Joe in the background, making questioning noises. He remembered a moment too late that she was staying at Pete’s in LA for the week.
“Bon, jesus, shut up,” he hissed and he could hear shuffling.
“Sorry boys, personal call,” she called out and a few seconds later, “I’m in the bathroom. Who the fuck wants to sleep with you?”
“I said hypothetically,” he sighed, but he knew he was screwed.
“Fine, whatever, let’s say hypothetically that it’s you. Who hypothetically wants to sleep with you, and I guess the bigger question is do you hypothetically want to sleep with them, or are you looking for a good way to say no? Hypothetically.”
Bob rubbed the bridge of his nose. “Fine. Hypothetically, lets say its one of the boys.” ‘The boys’ are what he and Bonnie called their little cadre of bands. Boys, all of them, young and stupid and gorgeous across the board.
“Gabe?” Bonnie asked, a little breathless, since Gabe was Bonnie’s go-to answer for every question having to do with sex. He knew her, and she knew the boys, and Pete would be the next guess, followed by Brendon, followed by William. He just bit the bullet.
“Bill,” he said with a sigh, and Bonnie went quiet. “Bon? Come on, I need your advice here.”
Bonnie burst into laughter, the sounds echoing off the tile in Pete’s bathroom. “You are so fucking screwed,” she crowed and Bob fought the urge to just hang up.
“Thanks,” he said icily and she sobered a little, but he could still hear the grin in her voice.
“Well, at least I know the answer to the ‘are you interested back’ part.”
“Wha- why?” He asked, defensive, and she huffed in annoyance.
“He’s exactly your type, Robert, and you know it.”
“And what type is that?”
“Twinky and sweet and good on their knees,” she answered, and Bob could almost see the wry tilt of her head.
Bob stared at his shoes. Bonnie wasn’t wrong-William was exactly his type, always had been, but that was what made his job so much fun in addition to be so damned frustrating. But he’d drawn a line there that he’d never crossed, not until two weeks ago. “I work with him,” Bob reminded her, and Bonnie snorted.
“What, you’re worried sleeping with him will affect your professional relationship?”
“Frankly, yes.” It was reasonable to think that-
“And it hasn’t already started affecting your professional relationship?” she asked, interrupting his line of logic. “Knowing that you could have him if you wanted him… that doesn’t make you think ‘what if’ every time he’s in the room?”
“Well, yeah, but I still think,”
“Stop,” Bonnie said fondly. “Stop thinking. He’s not seventeen anymore, Bobby. He’s a grownup who needs a little looking after, and he knows you as well as I do, and he thinks you’re the right man for the job. Plus,” she added cheekily, “talk about good on his knees.”
“Tell me about it,” Bob groaned and Bonnie paused, but thankfully didn’t prod him for more details.
“Look, just. Think about it outside the job. If it doesn’t work out, you won’t be the first guy forced to work with an ex,” Bonnie said plainly and Bob nodded. There was the voice of reason he’d needed. “If you think you can make each other happy, that’s really the question, so. Stop thinking, and figure out how you feel about the kid. Then get your head out of your ass and make him dinner and fuck him senseless, okay?”
“Fine,” Bob threw his hands up, laughing. “Why do I ever come to you with this shit?”
“And take pictures!” Bonnie added.
Bob hung up the phone.
**
“God, this is a stupid idea,” Bob said to his reflection for the third time that night. He was dressed in his simple black polo shirt (Patrick 2.0, since apparently half his wardrobe came from Pete without him noticing), and dark jeans, and at this point he’d fidgeted so much, he was grateful he didn’t have any hair to worry about.
William was due over at nine o’clock. He opened the Merlot at 8:52 and drank half a glass in two gulps, pouring himself another, and one for William. He’d gone with pizza since he knew how William liked his without having to ask, and the wine felt a little dumb but. But, but, but. He’d been second guessing for four days now, ever since he’d called and “So, we should talk. Why don’t you come by after the Fuse thing on Thursday?”
William had sounded happy but uncertain, and Bob still wasn’t sure that this was the best idea, so he’d left it vague.
His cell rang at 8:55 and he picked up, thinking it was William running late, or canceling altogether. “Is he there yet?” Bonnie asked and Bob almost crushed the phone in his bare hand.
“No,” he gritted out, “and you are so the one I’m blaming if this goes to hell,” he added.
“Tell me what he’s wearing!”
“It’s William, Bon. He only owns four shirts,” Bob sat heavily on his easy chair and sighed.
“Then tell me if he brings something! I told him you like wine, so if he brings something awful, just drink it,” she said sagely.
“You told him what?” Bob said incredulously, and Bonnie made a tsking noise.
“He called me and asked! He sounded so fucking nervous, Bobby, you have no idea. It was so. Cute.”
Bob rested his head back and closed his eyes. “This is not the junior prom, Bonnie. We need to have a serious conversation about how this-“ the doorbell buzzed and cut him off, and Bonnie squealed.
“Less thinking, more kissing!” she yelled as he hung up on her again. He paused to turn the phone off entirely before tugging the door open.
Bob was wrong. William apparently now owned five shirts, including this one-a tan v-neck sweater in a soft fabric with long sleeves that clung to his delicate wrists. There was a bottle wrapped in brown paper under one arm. His jeans were familiar, and the ratty sneakers on his feet, but Bob badly wanted to touch this new shirt. “Hi,” William said and tucked his hair behind his ear with a shy smile. “I’m not late, right?”
“No, just. Come in.”
Bob opened the door wider and let William slip in past him. The wine glasses were on the table and William stood in the middle of the room uncomfortably. Bob wasn’t big on decorating so the furniture was pretty sparse. He had promo posters on his walls for bands stretching all the way back to the Step Kings, and his Manager of the Year Award was tucked discreetly onto his bookshelf. William had been to his apartment before, but this time the air was charged, and he shifted from one foot to the other.
“I, um. I didn’t know what you liked, so I hope this is okay,” he said and held out the bottle. It was a nice Chardonnay, a little expensive, one of those that the salesperson picks out for you when you walk in looking clueless.
“It’s great, thanks,” Bob said a little stiffly, and William’s smile faltered. Bob took a deep breath. “Go ahead and have a drink; I’ll go chill this one.” He tucked the wine into his rack in his fridge and leaned on the counter. William was twenty feet away in the other room, nervous and gorgeous and Bob was already fucking this up. How do you say ‘I’ve wanted you for years, I just don’t know what I’m doing’, he wondered with a sigh.
“Bob?” William said behind him and when he turned, William was an arm’s length away, glass of wine in one hand. His other arm was crossed in front of him, hand tucked under his elbow. He looked smaller than usual, balled up in a bundle of nervous energy. He licked his lips thoughtlessly and Bob’s pulse jumped. “Is everything okay?” he asked, unsure, and Bob wondered if William was trying to be true to his word and not push, or if maybe he’d rethought the whole thing and realized that Bob was way the hell too old.
But other than the age difference, Bob had started to realize, they had everything in common. He’d never have to explain his job to William, never have to apologize for long trips, or worry about William being jealous of his time with Pete or Ryan or Jon. They both lived and breathed this insane scene. William bit his lip and looked up at him with wide, worried eyes. “Maybe I should just,” he started and Bob shook his head.
“Come here,” the words came out roughly, but Bob put his hand out and William stepped into his chest with a shaky breath.
“Yeah?” William said, hopeful and breathless, and Bob smiled and slid his hand around the soft fabric at William’s waist.
“Yeah,” he said, nodding, and William smiled wide and leaned in to kiss him. It was sweet, soft and warm and William tasted like wine and the slice of pepperoni he must have stolen off the pizza while Bob’s back was turned. Bob’s hand spanned most of William’s back, pulling him close enough that William went to wind his arms around Bob’s neck. Bob laughed and took the wine glass from him, placing it on the counter behind them. “You’re a menace,” he grinned as the wine sloshed onto the counter, William pulling him closer.
“Enthusiastic,” William grinned back and tucked his hand behind Bob’s neck, pulling him in for another kiss. This one was hotter, deep and slow, and William moaned softly when Bob’s hand drifted lower, cupping his ass. “Yeah,” he said, low and sexy as Bob slid his other hand down too, pulling William closer and rolling his hips a little, both of them already panting at the friction. William’s arms tightened around his neck and he wrapped one leg around Bob’s thigh, Bob giving him a boost up until the other leg was off the ground too. William grinned down at him, mouth red and inviting.
“Bedroom,” he said, and Bob quirked an eyebrow. “Please?” William finished, saccharine sweet, before biting gently at Bob’s lower lip. Bob growled and hoisted William up a few inches before carrying him down the hall.
The bed dipped a little as William bounced onto it, sliding forward and pulling up Bob’s shirt from the bottom. “We were supposed to talk,” Bob hissed as William ran his hands over Bob’s bare chest, biting at his stomach.
“Fuck talking,” William breathed against his skin before tugging at the button on his pants. “You never listen to me anyway,” he said with mock annoyance and Bob laughed and pressed William back into the mattress, crawling up to meet him. “Hey,” William smiled against his lips as Bob finally slipped his hands under William’s sweater and tugged it up over his head.
“I always listen to you,” Bob murmured and dipped his head to suck gently on William’s nipple.
“Do no-ahhh,” William groaned and arched under him. “If you did,” he added, panting, “you’d have known how I felt about you months ago.” Bob met his eyes intently.
“William,” he started and was cut off by a hand snaking into the front of his jeans.
“Let’s just leave it at ‘you’re an idiot, McLynn’, and move on, okay?” William kissed his throat and Bob just dropped his head and took a deep breath through his nose as William wrapped his fingers around his cock. “Tonight, you can fuck me to make up for it,” he added slyly and Bob bucked into William’s hand.
They shed the rest of their clothes fast after that, William winding himself around Bob as soon as he was naked, sucking a harsh bruise into his chest. William couldn’t seem to get enough, reaching out to run his hands over Bob’s shoulders, biceps, ass. He let out a shuddered cry when Bob closed his fist around his cock. He was already hard and hot and a few sure strokes had William babbling, begging underneath him.
“On your knees,” Bob told him, reaching into his side table for lube and a condom. William rolled over eagerly and pressed back at the first press of Bob’s slick fingers at his entrance. Bob took his time, a little awed at William’s long, lean form, the way he whimpered and threw his head back as Bob pressed in deeper.
“Fuck, please,” William said with a sob as one finger became two, and he twisted them a little to watch William writhe. He slid the condom on, hissing at the contact, and lined up, his hands huge on William’s slim hips. “Yeah, yeah, Bob, oh god,” William took a few deep breaths and opened around him until Bob had to close his eyes to keep from coming at the sight of his cock disappearing into William Beckett’s ass.
He made the rhythm slow and deep, steady but for the way Bob’s knees slipped a little on his comforter when William dropped to his elbows with a low moan. “You want more?” he asked, snapping his hips hard, and William whined high in his throat and tightened his fingers in the pillow next to his head.
“Y-yes, god,” he panted and Bob let himself go, fucking William hard enough to slide him forward on the bed a few inches, hands gripping his hips to hold him in place. William made an incoherent groan and twisted, pushing back as best he could with Bob pinning him in place. Bob watched as he snaked a hand under his body and he could feel the ripple through his body as William grasped his cock, breathe getting stuck in his throat.
“Come on, that’s it, so fucking gorgeous,” Bob growled and William came with a yell, his whole body contracting under Bob, around him. Bob only managed a few more hard thrusts faster that, falling forward and pressing his mouth to the back of William’s neck as he came with long, low groan. He wound his arm around William’s middle, riding out the aftershocks. He lowered himself to the bed slowly, tucking William against his chest before pulling out slowly and kissing his way down William’s pale shoulder.
“Shit,” William exhaled, and Bob could hear the smile in his voice. “Knew that would be amazing.”
“Mmm,” Bob hummed in agreement as he leaned away to toss the condom.
“C’mere,” William mumbled and Bob slid back behind him with a handful of tissues. He wiped William’s stomach clean, then his fingers, smiling when William stopped him long enough to slide one still-slick finger into his mouth, licking it clean.
“God, you’re dirty,” he shook his head and William rolled his eyes.
“You love it,” he said and Bob just sighed and let William rustle around until he was flopped half on top of Bob, fingers rubbing his hip.
They lay there for a few quiet moments before Bob forced his eyes open. “We should eat something,” he said, “the pizza-“
“It’ll still be there when we wake up. Sleep.”
“I’m going to make sure you eat more, Beckett,” he grumbled, but he pulled the end of the covers over them both.
“’M gonna make sure you work less, McLynn,” William mumbled back before drifting off.
Yeah, Bob thought, his fingers tangled in William’s hair. That’ll work.