For sageness
For: sageness
Title: Motivations, plans and lies
Author: mickeymvt
Fandom: Hard Core Logo
Pairing: Joe/Billy; Joe/OFC
Rating: NC-17
Length: 3,900 words
Prompt: Joe/Billy, the early days
Optional Prompt Used: Photograph(y)
Summary: Behind the cool exterior, Joe thinks and plots a lot more than people give him credit for
Notes: Many thanks to ultra_chrome and visionshadows for characterization advice in the beginning and quick and insightful betas at the end. This took a very different path than what I had orginally intended, yet in the end, it turned out better than I could have imagined. I hope you enjoy it, Sage.
"C’mon Billy. Wake the fuck up." Joe kicked the mattress with a booted foot, hoping to jar Billy awake. "You’re gonna be late for work. Again. And we can’t afford you losing this job, get your ass out of the goddamn bed."
Finishing buttoning up his shirt, Joe tucked it into his black dress pants as he glanced at the clock on the wall over the stove. FUCK! Twenty-five to 8 already. He was going to be late himself if he didn’t get a move on and Billy was not helping the matter by being a lazy fuck. Time for drastic measure number four, not exactly a Joe Dick specialty, but always effective.
Reaching down, he snagged a corner of the ratty quilt still covering Billy and yanked it off, tossing it into a far corner of the shitty one room apartment they shared, away from where Billy could reach it.
"You. Up. Now." Joe didn’t even try to disguise the anger in his voice. He was fed up and frustrated with having run through this same routine every damn morning for the past several months. He wasn’t a goddamm babysitter, not even for Billy. Hell, he was as far from that as he could get, yet here he was, making Billy get up and go to work every day. It would almost make him puke, except that Billy’s job at the music shop meant they got killer discounts on equipment for the band, good, decent stuff that they wouldn’t come close to affording if Billy got fired for always being late. So here was Joe Dick, almost punk rock star, lead singer of "Hammerhead", a man not to be messed with, and how did he spend his mornings? Dragging Billy Tallent’s ass out of bed. Downright pathetic.
Joe frowned as he stared down at Billy, naked and sprawled out on the mattress. He wished Billy would grow up and take the band seriously. But no, for all the talent with a guitar that Billy possessed, he was a major screw off in every other area of his life. Joe wasn’t a saint by any means, not even close, but Billy was out every night, barely getting home before dawn, drunk, high and smelling of sex. Granted, Joe usually joined Billy on his nightly excursions and more often than not, they finished the night together, fucking on the same ratty mattress that Billy was currently stretched out on, yet Billy’s callousness about life in general was starting to grate on Joe’s nerves.
He was still staring and frowning, figuring out how to get Billy more motivated, when Billy’s voice interrupted, "You do know your face will freeze if you leave it like that."
Shaking his head, Joe turned his frown into a scowl, lifting his gaze to meet Billy’s. "Since when did you become an expert in anything, you jackass? Move it, you’re making both of us late."
"Aww, you’re such a spoilsport, Joe. Never take time for the good things in life." Billy emphasized his words by grasping his half-hard cock and stroking up slowly, his thumb tracing circles over the head before sliding the hand back down to the base. "Get down here and live a little," he added, arching his back as he stroked himself again.
Billy’s voice was all sex and it took every ounce of anger and willpower for Joe to drag his eyes away from the scene on the mattress and to physically turn away. Taking the measly six steps to the kitchen table, he snatched up his coat, checking the pockets to make sure the tie he stuffed in there yesterday was still there, and headed towards the door. He had it open before he trusted himself to respond, his back still to the room. "I lived it up last night, or are you forgetting whose dick you sucked in the men’s room at the Burton? Get your ass in gear. And don’t forget, rehearsal at 8 in Eddie’s basement." With that, Joe slammed out the door, Billy’s laughter ringing in his ears.
***
All through the rest of the day, Joe was distracted. By thoughts of Billy and how he could get Billy re-focused on the band and the music. By thoughts of the band- they weren’t making any money and if he was brutally honest with himself, they weren’t very good at all. Not him or Billy. The two of them, they were great, they were rock-solid and their tag teaming on the writing was starting to pay off to where the songs they wrote matched their playing abilities. It was the other two members of the group, Eddie the bassist and Chuck on drums, who were dragging them down. The more that Joe played with them, the more he saw that neither of them was serious about the music or about making it in the business. They were more concerned with being lawyers or accountants or whatever the fuck they did during the day. The music, the band, they were secondary to Eddie and Chuck, an on-the-side hobby that they dabbled in. That attitude pissed Joe off royally and the more he thought about it, the more he became convinced that it was time to ditch the lazy fakers and find some serious musicians. Guys who played every song like it was their last, guys who were really into music and wanted to be in a successful band. Guys who could actually play with Joe and Billy, not just pretend to.
These thoughts of breaking up the band and making a new one, led Joe’s thoughts back to Billy as he stood in the mailroom, sorting out today’s delivery. It wasn’t that the two of them were all that different or that Joe condemned what Billy did. Hell, it wasn’t as if Joe didn’t get hammered or stoned or both on most nights of the week and it sure as hell wasn’t that Joe didn’t get his share of ass and pussy. Or even that he gave a rat’s ass about how well Joe Dick did as mail clerk because it was what he wanted to do for the rest of his life. Joe didn’t give a flying fuck about any of that crap.
What he really cared about, what he really wanted, was to make music with Billy, to make successful music with Billy. To write songs that mattered to them, to sell records, to play their music in front of packed houses and yeah, to actually make money from doing all this. But Billy- Billy was screwing up this dream, a dream they’d shared since they were failing and dropping out of high school. The worst part, the thing that both bugged Joe and made him proud at the same time? On stage, sober or drunk or high, Billy Tallent was the best goddamn guitarist in the entire province, if not the entire fucking country and if he got serious about it, about making music with Joe that could rock the world, Billy Freakin’ Tallent would be the best guitarist in the world.
If Joe could only figure out how to make Billy see this, how to straighten the guy out and re-focus him on the actual music and not on the booze and the sex, even just a little bit, Joe was convinced that they could pull it all together, they would be able to nail down a halfway decent demo to send out. From that point, the rest would just fall into place.
Kicking the crap out of Billy wouldn’t do any good, they traded punches several times a week and talking about it, that was out of the question. Joe was so involved in working out what to do that he nearly ran over the reason he’d taken this awful job -where he had to wear a tie and a button-down shirt and dress shoes that reminded him of the private school he’d attended in 5th grade- in the first place: Janey. Petite, with a fiery personality that matched her short red hair, Joe had met Janey after a show a few months back and wanted her at first glance.
He’d used the ol’ Joe Dick charm on her, the charm that had gotten him into more than a few female beds and even more back-alley and bathroom blowjobs than he could count. Janey, though, somehow, someway, had resisted his lines and tricks from the start, playing it coy and hard to get. Joe had never met anyone who could hold out for as long as she had and it intrigued him, made him chase after her, something that he had never done before. He knew that once she caved, once she said yes, the sex would be fantastic, but the build-up to that point was both annoying and frustrating.
Grabbing the sides of the mail cart he was steering, he managed to avoid actually running Janey over, pulling it and himself flush against the nearest wall, leaning casually against the peeling paint as he tipped an apologetic grin her way. "Sorry ‘bout that. Must have been lost in thought," he paused for the effect, cheesy as it was, "over what you’d look like with nothing on." Quickly deciding to go for it all, he topped off the apology with a wink and a leer, his eyes taking the scenic tour over her body. She was gorgeous and sexy and Joe felt his cock stirring in his pants.
Janey grinned back at him, shifting her camera bag to her other shoulder as she stepped close, setting her small hand over his. He could smell her perfume mixed in with the acidic scent of the chemical she worked with as a photography student. "Hey, no worries baby. No harm, no foul as they say." Her hand wandered up his arm, tracing the crease of his white shirt upwards, warming both the material and him.
Baby? Joe’s eyebrows rose of their own accord. She’d never called him that before. Never. And touching him too? Before it’d been the barest, friendliest of touches, but this, this was touching with intent. This was touching with the intent of getting up close and really personal. With the intent of getting naked and to do more than go skinny-dipping.
Her hand settled at the top of his shoulder, fingernails that were painted bright red digging into the muscle. "In fact," she leaned up on her toes to whisper in his ear, her breath warm, "you can check for yourself that I’m not hurt. Say about 6ish in the photography studio-room 319 of Robb Hall."
Inside, Joe felt like screaming for joy, he’d finally get to fuck her, alleluia and all the choruses. On the outside, Joe was cool- always had been, always would be and so he shifted closer to Janey, bending to put his lips near her ear. "Oh yeah. I’ll be there. Examining every inch of you."
He could feel the shudder move through her body with those words. She kept it together though, flicking a glance around before taking his pierced earlobe in between her teeth and tugging roughly. Letting go, she lowered her voice even further than it had been, "Professor Stevenson gave me the keys to get in whenever I needed to get some work done. I’m the only student who has them. We’ll be all alone."
Biting back a groan, Joe had to give her some serious props. For all her coy games early on, now that she decided she really wanted him, Janey was going for it full throttle and that turned Joe’s crank like nothing else but Billy could. God, this night was looking so much better already. There was only one thing that could top it...
Dragging his mind out of his pants and his voice into a semblance of normalcy, he pushed the envelope a little bit. "Those pictures I talked about? The ones of the band? Can we..." He trailed off, positive that she knew what he was talking about. The other reason that he’d chased after her for so long: free professional, well nearly professional pictures of the band, pictures that would be a perfect addition to a demo.
Some would have called the look on her face a pout; others would have said she’d tasted a sour lemon. Joe, on the other hand, saw a grin hiding inside a frown, not to mention the glint that appeared her eyes. "Well, I suppose they could come in for them later on,” she paused, sliding her glance up to meet Joe’s, “After you’ve thoroughly examined me, of course."
"Oh yeah. After. For sure," he nodded, mentally high-fiving himself for the score he’d just made. "That’d be great."
"Okay, then." Pulling away, Janey stole another quick glance around, and then brushed her lips against his with a promise of things to come. "All settled. I’ll see you around 6 and do the photos later on. Tap twice on the door so I know it’s you." And with that she stepped away from him, Joe admiring the view as she disappeared around the corner.
It was amazing what persistence got you, he mused, turning back to the mail cart and his rounds, Truly, truly, fucking amazing.
***
The rest of the day dragged on and on and on. If he hadn’t been sober, Joe would have sworn that some asswipe has stopped time just to play a cruel joke on him. As it was, he still cut out from work 15 minutes early, only taking time to grab a coffee from the cafeteria on his way over to the record shop where Billy was.
He made it there in record time, too, not even bothering to slow down as he ran in, grabbed Billy by the arm and dragged him into the back room. Panting for breath, he ignored Billy’s surprised shout and grunt when he shoved him against the closed door, Billy’s thin shoulders shifting under his hands as Joe held him there.
"Fucker. What the hell?" Billy’s voice echoed in the small space. "You can’t barge in here and..."
Joe cut off the rest of Billy’s sentence with a hard kiss, pulling away when Billy bit his lower lip. "Ow, shit, Billiam. I don’t have time for this." He licked at the bite mark. "Shut up and listen."
Billy glared, but kept his mouth shut.
"Remember Janey? That little red-headed photography student I’ve been after? She finally came to her senses today and realized that she wants to fuck me."
"So?" Billy did bored indifference almost as well as Joe did. "You’re going to get laid this afternoon. Like that doesn’t happen all the time." Billy’s eye’s narrowed. "And why are you telling me this anyway? I don’t give a rat’s ass who you fuck and you know that."
Somehow, Joe resisted the urge to smack Billy’s head against the wall. "Because, you dink, she also agreed to take pictures of us to use as promo shots."
"Oh. Wait. Us? As in you and me? I thought you trying to get her to take shots of the entire band?"
"Yeah, well, there’s no more band."
"No more band?" Billy shoved Joe in the chest. "The hell you mean there’s no more band?" Failing to move Joe out of the way, he grabbed Joe’s shirt, yanking him closer to yell in his face. "What the fuck did you do this time Joe? How did you manage to fuck this band up to?"
"Easy there, Bill." Joe knew he was smirking. He couldn’t help it, nor could he help the way his hands slid from Billy’s shoulder down to his waist. "I didn’t do anything…. Not yet, at least."
"You… Not yet… Jesus H. Christ, Joe! That makes no sense!"
Shrugging as best he could considering the death-hold Billy had on his shirt, he shot back, "Makes sense to me. Besides, you know we’re better than those two wannabes." Make it about the music, that was the way to get Billy’s attention and make him listen. "It’s time to ditch them and get guys who can really jam."
And the way to get Billy to do whatever he wanted, Joe had that part down pat. All he had to do was get Billy off and he’d do agree to anything. Using that knowledge to his advantage, he moved one hand to cup Billy’s cock through the worn fabric of his jeans. "Aren’t you sick of playing crap music in crappy bars for crappy pay?"
"Yeah, I am, but," Billy’s voice trailed off as Joe unbuttoned his jeans and slid his hand inside, wrapping his fingers around Billy’s erection.
"But nothing." He kept his voice steady and soft, knowing that now was not the time to provoke Billy. "We get rid of Eddie and Chuck, advertise for a new bassist and drummer and in the meantime, until we find exactly who we want, we play as a duo." He stroked Billy faster, his hand gliding expertly over the hard softness. "You and me, Billy. You and me and the music. Nothing else."
Swiping his thumb over the swollen head, Joe could see the moment when Billy agreed to the new arrangement, it was in his half-closed eyes a split second before he arched his back and came, spending himself all over Joe’s hand and their clothes. After a few moments, Billy slumped back against the door, breath coming in great gasps as Joe wiped his sticky hand on Billy’s messed up jeans, then tucked him away.
Ignoring his own aching cock, Joe easily slid back into business mode. "Great then, all settled. You call Eddie and Chuck and let them know that practice is canceled for tonight and that oh, by the way, you’re fired."
Billy nodded wearily, his brain still not firing on all cylinders yet. It was too easy with Billy sometimes, Joe thought, but then again, being horny all the time would do that to a guy. Joe knew all about that, he was the same way, only he had a tad more sense than Billy did and knew enough to back off when things got too dicey. Billy hadn’t learned that trick yet, but he was getting there.
Looking down, he noticed he had Billy’s come on his shirt. It wouldn’t be good to meet Janey with spunk on his shirt. He stripped it off, balled it up and threw it in a far corner, leaving him in just a white t-shirt. He turned back to Billy, still using the door to hold him up and cupped the back of his neck with a hand, fingers gripping hard. "I gotta go. Later on come to Robb Hall on the campus around nine. Room 319. You know the signal. And get cleaned up a bit, I don’t want to be in a photo with you when you’re covered in come. Especially since we’re going to be sending them out." Grabbing Billy’s chin with his other hand, he forced Billy to look him in the eyes. "Okay? Good. Remember-you and me and the music. That’s it. That’s all we need."
With that, he let go of Billy, and after waiting for Billy to move away from the door, he strode through it, on his way to get busy with Janey and then, once he’d made her scream his name over and over again, it would be showtime for Joe and Billy, only it wouldn’t be on stage, it’d be in front of a camera, posing for photos that would make them punk rock gods.
***
Epilogue: Ten years later.
Billy stared at the worn and yellowing photo in his hand, the late afternoon sun throwing his shadow over the images imprinted on the fine paper. He didn’t need to actually see what those images were though; they were seared into his memory. A younger version of himself, hair bleached nearly white and longer than it was now, skinny as a rail and shirtless, defiance on his face, but amusement in his eyes that stared directly at the camera. One pale arm, the one with the 'Champion' tattoo on the bicep, slung low around a pair of hips clad in black denim, his other arm resting lightly on the broad shoulder of the person facing him head-on. The other person, also male, with a shock of dark hair shaved into a Mohawk, was also shirtless and staring into the camera with a defiant look, only instead of amusement, there was lust lurking behind his blue eyes. His pose was the mirror opposite of Billy’s, the arm directly in front of the camera laying on Billy’s slim shoulder while his other one, the one mostly hidden by their bodies, was wrapped low around Billy’s own jeans-clad hips.
If one were to just look at the picture, without knowing who these guys where or what they did, they would assume that this photo was from a gay magazine shoot, the kind of rag that encouraged guys to jerk off to the pictures. They couldn’t be farther from the truth. The photo shoot was just supposed to be professional shots, shots of two guys who were trying to make it in the music scene, shots that they could send out with demos in the hopes of landing a record deal. It started out that way- two musicians and a photographer working to get the best possible set of shots that would sell their music. But as usual, the other guy pushed things too far, demanded too much and manipulated everything until he got what he really wanted: publicity shots, yeah, but also shots like the one Billy was holding, shots that showed the two guys as more than just buddies and musicians, shots that could be sold as gay porn if anyone was desperate to sink to that level. Shots that would ruin Billy’s budding career if they were released to the public.
Goddamn you, Joe Dick, goddamn you and your devious, fucking brain, Billy thought with vengeance as he glared at the answering machine, Joe’s scratchy voice echoing in his head, asking, pleading with Billy to come to Vancouver and reunite with HCL for one night, for a tribute concert for Bucky Haight and oh, by the way, if Billy didn’t, he had some pictures that he knew several magazines and record execs would love to get their hands on. Fist clenching in anger, balling up the photo, he threw it against the wall, watching it fall pitifully to the carpet before snatching it up again. Digging through his pocket, he came up with his lighter and holding it under the photo, he watched as that decade old piece of his former life went up in flames.
Goddamn you to hell, Joe, was Billy’s thought as the last bit of the photo turned to ash. He let the gray, burnt up scraps fall to the carpet, mind whirling with memories of betrayals of trust, words and gestures that spoke of love and need, and finally, manipulations that always worked. Coming to a decision, he muttered to himself, 'Never again, Joe, never again. You’ve screwed me over for the last time,' and reached for the phone, punching in the number that Joe had left at the end of his message, 'Never a-fucking-gain.'
Title: Motivations, plans and lies
Author: mickeymvt
Fandom: Hard Core Logo
Pairing: Joe/Billy; Joe/OFC
Rating: NC-17
Length: 3,900 words
Prompt: Joe/Billy, the early days
Optional Prompt Used: Photograph(y)
Summary: Behind the cool exterior, Joe thinks and plots a lot more than people give him credit for
Notes: Many thanks to ultra_chrome and visionshadows for characterization advice in the beginning and quick and insightful betas at the end. This took a very different path than what I had orginally intended, yet in the end, it turned out better than I could have imagined. I hope you enjoy it, Sage.
"C’mon Billy. Wake the fuck up." Joe kicked the mattress with a booted foot, hoping to jar Billy awake. "You’re gonna be late for work. Again. And we can’t afford you losing this job, get your ass out of the goddamn bed."
Finishing buttoning up his shirt, Joe tucked it into his black dress pants as he glanced at the clock on the wall over the stove. FUCK! Twenty-five to 8 already. He was going to be late himself if he didn’t get a move on and Billy was not helping the matter by being a lazy fuck. Time for drastic measure number four, not exactly a Joe Dick specialty, but always effective.
Reaching down, he snagged a corner of the ratty quilt still covering Billy and yanked it off, tossing it into a far corner of the shitty one room apartment they shared, away from where Billy could reach it.
"You. Up. Now." Joe didn’t even try to disguise the anger in his voice. He was fed up and frustrated with having run through this same routine every damn morning for the past several months. He wasn’t a goddamm babysitter, not even for Billy. Hell, he was as far from that as he could get, yet here he was, making Billy get up and go to work every day. It would almost make him puke, except that Billy’s job at the music shop meant they got killer discounts on equipment for the band, good, decent stuff that they wouldn’t come close to affording if Billy got fired for always being late. So here was Joe Dick, almost punk rock star, lead singer of "Hammerhead", a man not to be messed with, and how did he spend his mornings? Dragging Billy Tallent’s ass out of bed. Downright pathetic.
Joe frowned as he stared down at Billy, naked and sprawled out on the mattress. He wished Billy would grow up and take the band seriously. But no, for all the talent with a guitar that Billy possessed, he was a major screw off in every other area of his life. Joe wasn’t a saint by any means, not even close, but Billy was out every night, barely getting home before dawn, drunk, high and smelling of sex. Granted, Joe usually joined Billy on his nightly excursions and more often than not, they finished the night together, fucking on the same ratty mattress that Billy was currently stretched out on, yet Billy’s callousness about life in general was starting to grate on Joe’s nerves.
He was still staring and frowning, figuring out how to get Billy more motivated, when Billy’s voice interrupted, "You do know your face will freeze if you leave it like that."
Shaking his head, Joe turned his frown into a scowl, lifting his gaze to meet Billy’s. "Since when did you become an expert in anything, you jackass? Move it, you’re making both of us late."
"Aww, you’re such a spoilsport, Joe. Never take time for the good things in life." Billy emphasized his words by grasping his half-hard cock and stroking up slowly, his thumb tracing circles over the head before sliding the hand back down to the base. "Get down here and live a little," he added, arching his back as he stroked himself again.
Billy’s voice was all sex and it took every ounce of anger and willpower for Joe to drag his eyes away from the scene on the mattress and to physically turn away. Taking the measly six steps to the kitchen table, he snatched up his coat, checking the pockets to make sure the tie he stuffed in there yesterday was still there, and headed towards the door. He had it open before he trusted himself to respond, his back still to the room. "I lived it up last night, or are you forgetting whose dick you sucked in the men’s room at the Burton? Get your ass in gear. And don’t forget, rehearsal at 8 in Eddie’s basement." With that, Joe slammed out the door, Billy’s laughter ringing in his ears.
***
All through the rest of the day, Joe was distracted. By thoughts of Billy and how he could get Billy re-focused on the band and the music. By thoughts of the band- they weren’t making any money and if he was brutally honest with himself, they weren’t very good at all. Not him or Billy. The two of them, they were great, they were rock-solid and their tag teaming on the writing was starting to pay off to where the songs they wrote matched their playing abilities. It was the other two members of the group, Eddie the bassist and Chuck on drums, who were dragging them down. The more that Joe played with them, the more he saw that neither of them was serious about the music or about making it in the business. They were more concerned with being lawyers or accountants or whatever the fuck they did during the day. The music, the band, they were secondary to Eddie and Chuck, an on-the-side hobby that they dabbled in. That attitude pissed Joe off royally and the more he thought about it, the more he became convinced that it was time to ditch the lazy fakers and find some serious musicians. Guys who played every song like it was their last, guys who were really into music and wanted to be in a successful band. Guys who could actually play with Joe and Billy, not just pretend to.
These thoughts of breaking up the band and making a new one, led Joe’s thoughts back to Billy as he stood in the mailroom, sorting out today’s delivery. It wasn’t that the two of them were all that different or that Joe condemned what Billy did. Hell, it wasn’t as if Joe didn’t get hammered or stoned or both on most nights of the week and it sure as hell wasn’t that Joe didn’t get his share of ass and pussy. Or even that he gave a rat’s ass about how well Joe Dick did as mail clerk because it was what he wanted to do for the rest of his life. Joe didn’t give a flying fuck about any of that crap.
What he really cared about, what he really wanted, was to make music with Billy, to make successful music with Billy. To write songs that mattered to them, to sell records, to play their music in front of packed houses and yeah, to actually make money from doing all this. But Billy- Billy was screwing up this dream, a dream they’d shared since they were failing and dropping out of high school. The worst part, the thing that both bugged Joe and made him proud at the same time? On stage, sober or drunk or high, Billy Tallent was the best goddamn guitarist in the entire province, if not the entire fucking country and if he got serious about it, about making music with Joe that could rock the world, Billy Freakin’ Tallent would be the best guitarist in the world.
If Joe could only figure out how to make Billy see this, how to straighten the guy out and re-focus him on the actual music and not on the booze and the sex, even just a little bit, Joe was convinced that they could pull it all together, they would be able to nail down a halfway decent demo to send out. From that point, the rest would just fall into place.
Kicking the crap out of Billy wouldn’t do any good, they traded punches several times a week and talking about it, that was out of the question. Joe was so involved in working out what to do that he nearly ran over the reason he’d taken this awful job -where he had to wear a tie and a button-down shirt and dress shoes that reminded him of the private school he’d attended in 5th grade- in the first place: Janey. Petite, with a fiery personality that matched her short red hair, Joe had met Janey after a show a few months back and wanted her at first glance.
He’d used the ol’ Joe Dick charm on her, the charm that had gotten him into more than a few female beds and even more back-alley and bathroom blowjobs than he could count. Janey, though, somehow, someway, had resisted his lines and tricks from the start, playing it coy and hard to get. Joe had never met anyone who could hold out for as long as she had and it intrigued him, made him chase after her, something that he had never done before. He knew that once she caved, once she said yes, the sex would be fantastic, but the build-up to that point was both annoying and frustrating.
Grabbing the sides of the mail cart he was steering, he managed to avoid actually running Janey over, pulling it and himself flush against the nearest wall, leaning casually against the peeling paint as he tipped an apologetic grin her way. "Sorry ‘bout that. Must have been lost in thought," he paused for the effect, cheesy as it was, "over what you’d look like with nothing on." Quickly deciding to go for it all, he topped off the apology with a wink and a leer, his eyes taking the scenic tour over her body. She was gorgeous and sexy and Joe felt his cock stirring in his pants.
Janey grinned back at him, shifting her camera bag to her other shoulder as she stepped close, setting her small hand over his. He could smell her perfume mixed in with the acidic scent of the chemical she worked with as a photography student. "Hey, no worries baby. No harm, no foul as they say." Her hand wandered up his arm, tracing the crease of his white shirt upwards, warming both the material and him.
Baby? Joe’s eyebrows rose of their own accord. She’d never called him that before. Never. And touching him too? Before it’d been the barest, friendliest of touches, but this, this was touching with intent. This was touching with the intent of getting up close and really personal. With the intent of getting naked and to do more than go skinny-dipping.
Her hand settled at the top of his shoulder, fingernails that were painted bright red digging into the muscle. "In fact," she leaned up on her toes to whisper in his ear, her breath warm, "you can check for yourself that I’m not hurt. Say about 6ish in the photography studio-room 319 of Robb Hall."
Inside, Joe felt like screaming for joy, he’d finally get to fuck her, alleluia and all the choruses. On the outside, Joe was cool- always had been, always would be and so he shifted closer to Janey, bending to put his lips near her ear. "Oh yeah. I’ll be there. Examining every inch of you."
He could feel the shudder move through her body with those words. She kept it together though, flicking a glance around before taking his pierced earlobe in between her teeth and tugging roughly. Letting go, she lowered her voice even further than it had been, "Professor Stevenson gave me the keys to get in whenever I needed to get some work done. I’m the only student who has them. We’ll be all alone."
Biting back a groan, Joe had to give her some serious props. For all her coy games early on, now that she decided she really wanted him, Janey was going for it full throttle and that turned Joe’s crank like nothing else but Billy could. God, this night was looking so much better already. There was only one thing that could top it...
Dragging his mind out of his pants and his voice into a semblance of normalcy, he pushed the envelope a little bit. "Those pictures I talked about? The ones of the band? Can we..." He trailed off, positive that she knew what he was talking about. The other reason that he’d chased after her for so long: free professional, well nearly professional pictures of the band, pictures that would be a perfect addition to a demo.
Some would have called the look on her face a pout; others would have said she’d tasted a sour lemon. Joe, on the other hand, saw a grin hiding inside a frown, not to mention the glint that appeared her eyes. "Well, I suppose they could come in for them later on,” she paused, sliding her glance up to meet Joe’s, “After you’ve thoroughly examined me, of course."
"Oh yeah. After. For sure," he nodded, mentally high-fiving himself for the score he’d just made. "That’d be great."
"Okay, then." Pulling away, Janey stole another quick glance around, and then brushed her lips against his with a promise of things to come. "All settled. I’ll see you around 6 and do the photos later on. Tap twice on the door so I know it’s you." And with that she stepped away from him, Joe admiring the view as she disappeared around the corner.
It was amazing what persistence got you, he mused, turning back to the mail cart and his rounds, Truly, truly, fucking amazing.
***
The rest of the day dragged on and on and on. If he hadn’t been sober, Joe would have sworn that some asswipe has stopped time just to play a cruel joke on him. As it was, he still cut out from work 15 minutes early, only taking time to grab a coffee from the cafeteria on his way over to the record shop where Billy was.
He made it there in record time, too, not even bothering to slow down as he ran in, grabbed Billy by the arm and dragged him into the back room. Panting for breath, he ignored Billy’s surprised shout and grunt when he shoved him against the closed door, Billy’s thin shoulders shifting under his hands as Joe held him there.
"Fucker. What the hell?" Billy’s voice echoed in the small space. "You can’t barge in here and..."
Joe cut off the rest of Billy’s sentence with a hard kiss, pulling away when Billy bit his lower lip. "Ow, shit, Billiam. I don’t have time for this." He licked at the bite mark. "Shut up and listen."
Billy glared, but kept his mouth shut.
"Remember Janey? That little red-headed photography student I’ve been after? She finally came to her senses today and realized that she wants to fuck me."
"So?" Billy did bored indifference almost as well as Joe did. "You’re going to get laid this afternoon. Like that doesn’t happen all the time." Billy’s eye’s narrowed. "And why are you telling me this anyway? I don’t give a rat’s ass who you fuck and you know that."
Somehow, Joe resisted the urge to smack Billy’s head against the wall. "Because, you dink, she also agreed to take pictures of us to use as promo shots."
"Oh. Wait. Us? As in you and me? I thought you trying to get her to take shots of the entire band?"
"Yeah, well, there’s no more band."
"No more band?" Billy shoved Joe in the chest. "The hell you mean there’s no more band?" Failing to move Joe out of the way, he grabbed Joe’s shirt, yanking him closer to yell in his face. "What the fuck did you do this time Joe? How did you manage to fuck this band up to?"
"Easy there, Bill." Joe knew he was smirking. He couldn’t help it, nor could he help the way his hands slid from Billy’s shoulder down to his waist. "I didn’t do anything…. Not yet, at least."
"You… Not yet… Jesus H. Christ, Joe! That makes no sense!"
Shrugging as best he could considering the death-hold Billy had on his shirt, he shot back, "Makes sense to me. Besides, you know we’re better than those two wannabes." Make it about the music, that was the way to get Billy’s attention and make him listen. "It’s time to ditch them and get guys who can really jam."
And the way to get Billy to do whatever he wanted, Joe had that part down pat. All he had to do was get Billy off and he’d do agree to anything. Using that knowledge to his advantage, he moved one hand to cup Billy’s cock through the worn fabric of his jeans. "Aren’t you sick of playing crap music in crappy bars for crappy pay?"
"Yeah, I am, but," Billy’s voice trailed off as Joe unbuttoned his jeans and slid his hand inside, wrapping his fingers around Billy’s erection.
"But nothing." He kept his voice steady and soft, knowing that now was not the time to provoke Billy. "We get rid of Eddie and Chuck, advertise for a new bassist and drummer and in the meantime, until we find exactly who we want, we play as a duo." He stroked Billy faster, his hand gliding expertly over the hard softness. "You and me, Billy. You and me and the music. Nothing else."
Swiping his thumb over the swollen head, Joe could see the moment when Billy agreed to the new arrangement, it was in his half-closed eyes a split second before he arched his back and came, spending himself all over Joe’s hand and their clothes. After a few moments, Billy slumped back against the door, breath coming in great gasps as Joe wiped his sticky hand on Billy’s messed up jeans, then tucked him away.
Ignoring his own aching cock, Joe easily slid back into business mode. "Great then, all settled. You call Eddie and Chuck and let them know that practice is canceled for tonight and that oh, by the way, you’re fired."
Billy nodded wearily, his brain still not firing on all cylinders yet. It was too easy with Billy sometimes, Joe thought, but then again, being horny all the time would do that to a guy. Joe knew all about that, he was the same way, only he had a tad more sense than Billy did and knew enough to back off when things got too dicey. Billy hadn’t learned that trick yet, but he was getting there.
Looking down, he noticed he had Billy’s come on his shirt. It wouldn’t be good to meet Janey with spunk on his shirt. He stripped it off, balled it up and threw it in a far corner, leaving him in just a white t-shirt. He turned back to Billy, still using the door to hold him up and cupped the back of his neck with a hand, fingers gripping hard. "I gotta go. Later on come to Robb Hall on the campus around nine. Room 319. You know the signal. And get cleaned up a bit, I don’t want to be in a photo with you when you’re covered in come. Especially since we’re going to be sending them out." Grabbing Billy’s chin with his other hand, he forced Billy to look him in the eyes. "Okay? Good. Remember-you and me and the music. That’s it. That’s all we need."
With that, he let go of Billy, and after waiting for Billy to move away from the door, he strode through it, on his way to get busy with Janey and then, once he’d made her scream his name over and over again, it would be showtime for Joe and Billy, only it wouldn’t be on stage, it’d be in front of a camera, posing for photos that would make them punk rock gods.
***
Epilogue: Ten years later.
Billy stared at the worn and yellowing photo in his hand, the late afternoon sun throwing his shadow over the images imprinted on the fine paper. He didn’t need to actually see what those images were though; they were seared into his memory. A younger version of himself, hair bleached nearly white and longer than it was now, skinny as a rail and shirtless, defiance on his face, but amusement in his eyes that stared directly at the camera. One pale arm, the one with the 'Champion' tattoo on the bicep, slung low around a pair of hips clad in black denim, his other arm resting lightly on the broad shoulder of the person facing him head-on. The other person, also male, with a shock of dark hair shaved into a Mohawk, was also shirtless and staring into the camera with a defiant look, only instead of amusement, there was lust lurking behind his blue eyes. His pose was the mirror opposite of Billy’s, the arm directly in front of the camera laying on Billy’s slim shoulder while his other one, the one mostly hidden by their bodies, was wrapped low around Billy’s own jeans-clad hips.
If one were to just look at the picture, without knowing who these guys where or what they did, they would assume that this photo was from a gay magazine shoot, the kind of rag that encouraged guys to jerk off to the pictures. They couldn’t be farther from the truth. The photo shoot was just supposed to be professional shots, shots of two guys who were trying to make it in the music scene, shots that they could send out with demos in the hopes of landing a record deal. It started out that way- two musicians and a photographer working to get the best possible set of shots that would sell their music. But as usual, the other guy pushed things too far, demanded too much and manipulated everything until he got what he really wanted: publicity shots, yeah, but also shots like the one Billy was holding, shots that showed the two guys as more than just buddies and musicians, shots that could be sold as gay porn if anyone was desperate to sink to that level. Shots that would ruin Billy’s budding career if they were released to the public.
Goddamn you, Joe Dick, goddamn you and your devious, fucking brain, Billy thought with vengeance as he glared at the answering machine, Joe’s scratchy voice echoing in his head, asking, pleading with Billy to come to Vancouver and reunite with HCL for one night, for a tribute concert for Bucky Haight and oh, by the way, if Billy didn’t, he had some pictures that he knew several magazines and record execs would love to get their hands on. Fist clenching in anger, balling up the photo, he threw it against the wall, watching it fall pitifully to the carpet before snatching it up again. Digging through his pocket, he came up with his lighter and holding it under the photo, he watched as that decade old piece of his former life went up in flames.
Goddamn you to hell, Joe, was Billy’s thought as the last bit of the photo turned to ash. He let the gray, burnt up scraps fall to the carpet, mind whirling with memories of betrayals of trust, words and gestures that spoke of love and need, and finally, manipulations that always worked. Coming to a decision, he muttered to himself, 'Never again, Joe, never again. You’ve screwed me over for the last time,' and reached for the phone, punching in the number that Joe had left at the end of his message, 'Never a-fucking-gain.'