for lilac one: "Double Take-Out" (MWB/HCL) by estrella30
Title: Double Take-Out
Author: estrella30
Fandom: Men With Brooms/Hard Core Logo
Recipient: lilac_one
Rating: NC-17
Double Take-Out
by estrella30
Another five nights; another three thousand miles. Another shitty club in another shitty town, and Billy was fucking tired.
Tired of all the bullshit, tired of touring. Hard Core Logo fucked him up, Jenifur fucked him over, and this new group of guys was probably no better. The most Billy had to hope for was that no one decided to pull a Joe Dick and blow their fucking brains out in the middle of a dirty alley in Edmunton.
It wasn’t much but it was something.
The show tonight sucked; bunch of prissy, sporty faggots in the audience, all too busy watching curling on the bar TV to pay any attention to the music. When they were done playing Billy collected his share of the money and took off without even telling the other guys where he was headed, winding up in front of a nice, little, homey fucking bar in the middle of nowhere.
Billy pushed the door open and breathed a sigh of relief when he saw that the place wasn’t packed to the walls with underage bimbos and loud-mouthed assholes trying to pick them up. Kind of a quiet place: pool table, long bar stretching across the middle of the room. He strode over and grabbed a seat, jerking his head toward the beer taps when the bartender walked over.
There was only one other guy at the bar with him, probably about his age, maybe a little older. Dark hair, pretty face. The guy turned and caught him looking, and Billy ignored him, pulling out a wad of cash and peeling off a few bills when the bartender came back over with his beer.
“You guys got a TV in here?” Billy asked, taking a sip of his drink. The beer was cold and the foam fizzed against the back of his throat. He drained half the mug in one swallow.
The bartender snickered and slid a look at the guy sitting next to Billy at the bar. “Used to,” the bartender said, slowly drying a glass with a dingy rag. “It broke.”
Billy turned his head and saw the shell of a TV hanging on the wall, the inside wires and guts hanging out and glass all over the floor.
“I broke it,” the guy next to him said. Billy flicked his eyes over and watched as the guy took a long pull of his beer, his eyes staring straight ahead.
Billy shrugged and turned back to his drink. “Congratulations.”
The bartender shook his head and took the other guys now empty glass. “Another one, Cutter?”
Billy finished his drink and pushed his glass across the bar for a refill.
Cutter nodded and the bartender grabbed both their glasses. “You needed a new TV in this place anyway,” Cutter was saying as the bartender walked back over and dropped off a new beer for the both of them. “I did you a favor.”
The bartender laughed and him and Cutter started talking about - Jesus Christ, curling? and Billy rolled his eyes. Just another typical night in some stupid-ass hick town. Billy snickered to himself, and pulled his cigarettes out of his shirt pocket. He stuck one between his lips and was patting his jeans looking for his lighter when he felt Cutter looking over at him.
“What?” Billy said shortly. He found his lighter and lit the cigarette, the first sharp blast of smoke stinging his throat.
“You have an extra one of those?” Cutter asked, raising his eyebrows.
Billy narrowed his eyes for a second, then pulled a cigarette from the pack and held it out. Cutter slid off his stool and walked over, taking the cigarette and slipping it between his lips. From this close Billy could see the tired lines around Cutter’s eyes, and something twisted low in his gut as he stared at Cutter’s mouth.
Cutter was just standing there, waiting, and Billy leaned back and barked out a laugh, handing over his lighter. “What, you want me to light your cigarette for you? Are you my fucking date or something?”
“Not hardly,” Cutter mumbled, lighting the cigarette and tossing Billy’s lighter back on the bar. The plastic hit the wood and slid across the bartop, and Billy watched it for a second before turning his back on Cutter.
“Well. It’s been nice talking to you too,” Cutter said sarcastically, wandering back over to his seat. He lifted his hand and gave Billy a mock salute. “Name’s Chris Cutter. Nice to meet you.”
Billy shifted his eyes and saw Cutter sit back down but said nothing. He took another pull of his beer and stared straight ahead.
“You know, I always think it’s so nice when out-of-towners just come waltzing in here, acting like they own the place,” Cutter said. His voice had a sing-song tone that was giving Billy fantasies of how his fist would feel smashed into Cutter’s nose. “It just - gives me a real sense of community or something,” Cutter continued.
Billy slammed his mug onto the bar. “Listen,” he said, sliding off the stool and onto his feet. “I don’t know what your fucking problem is. Maybe your favorite fucking water polo team lost the big game or something, but I need you to shut the fuck up and I need you to do it now.”
One side of Cutter’s mouth curved into a slow smirk. “Really,” he said quietly.
The bartender walked over and sighed. “All right. Settle down, Cutter,” he said, half-chuckling. “Isn’t the TV enough damage for one night?”
“Really,” Billy said looking directly at Cutter, ignoring the bartender. “Shut your fucking mouth, pretty boy.”
“All right, that’s it,” the bartender said, waving his hand around. “Both of you. Enough.”
Cutter took another step closer and Billy could see the way his hands were balled into fists so he did the thing he figured would piss Cutter off the most. “I think I’m done here anyway,” Billy said, laughing. “You yuppies have yourself a good night.”
He could feel Cutter’s eyes on him while he tossed more money on the bar and finished his beer. He knew Cutter was watching him as he walked slowly through the bar, taking his time to look around at the pictures on the walls, the other customers sitting quietly at tables watching them.
Billy pushed the door open and walked out into the cool night air, taking a deep breath and holding it until his chest hurt and his lungs burned. He shoved his hands in the pockets of his jeans, and when he heard the door open a few feet behind him, he knew it was Cutter without even turning around.
The truck Billy was using was parked over in the corner of the lot, half-hidden behind a tree and in front of a dumpster. He wandered over to it, walking slowly, taking his time, and when he felt the back of his jacket get pulled sharply, he spun around swinging.
His first punch landed short and only clipped Cutter’s jaw, but it was enough to throw Cutter off balance and the next punch Billy landed was right against his mouth. Billy felt Cutter’s teeth rattle together against his knuckles just before a trickle of blood was dripping from his mouth and onto Billy’s fingers.
“What the fuck is your problem?” Cutter grunted, reaching up to wipe the blood off his lip. He looked down at his hand, his eyes wide and surprised, before whipping his head up and shoving Billy hard against the truck. Billy’s head snapped back and hit against the side window and he blinked slowly, trying to bring things back into focus. The next thing he knew Cutter’s fist was smashing into his nose and he could hardly breathe.
“Motherfucker,” Billy muttered, shoving Cutter hard against the chest. Cutter stumbled back and Billy shook his head; his nose was bloody but not broken and he twisted his fingers in Cutter’s pretty fucking leather jacket and spun him around, banging his head back against the truck.
“Watch your fucking hands,” Billy ground out. Cutter was breathing hard and he licked his lip, blood staining the tip of his tongue. He panted and dropped his eyes, staring at Billy’s mouth, and his breathing slowing. He looked back up at Billy’s face, then down at his mouth again, licking his lips slowly.
Billy closed his eyes and leaned in, pressing his mouth hard against Cutter’s. Cutter tasted like blood and beer and he reached up and knotted his fingers in Billy’s hair, pulling him closer. Cutter panted into his mouth, pushed up off the side of the truck, and Billy slid his thigh between Cutter’s legs, feeling the hard press of Cutter’s cock against his leg.
“Jesus,” Cutter moaned, shoving his hips hard against Billy’s. “Jesus fuck.”
Billy pulled his head back and slowly opened his eyes, watching Cutter’s face as he reached down to palm Cutter’s cock through his jeans. Cutter bit his lip and let his head fall back, and Billy took a minute to sink his teeth into his throat as his fingers worked the button and zipper on Cutter’s jeans.
Cutter’s skin was soft and Billy licked across the teeth-marks he'd left before dropping to his knees and pulling Cutter’s jeans down his hips.
“What the fuck-“ Cutter grunted. Billy reached up with one hand and shoved him back against the car when Cutter tried to move.
“Shut up,” Billy said, licking across the head of Cutter’s cock. “Just shut your fucking mouth.”
Billy dimly heard Cutter’s head thunk back against the car as he sucked his cock into his mouth. Cutter’s fingers were grabbing onto Billy’s hair, and he tugged against them, stopping only to moan, “Harder,” when it felt like Cutter was going to let go.
The button on Billy’s jeans popped easily, and he reached down and grabbed his dick hard in his hand, jerking it sharp and fast as he sucked Cutter’s cock deeper down his throat. He kneeled up and felt his jeans slide down his hips and he closed his eyes, his lips kissing the fist he had around Cutter, already tasting the salt of his come.
Cutter let out a long, low moan, his fingers knotting even tighter in Billy’s hair. He could feel Cutter trying to hold back so he held still, forcing Cutter to move, to fuck his mouth to get what he needed.
“Jesus Christ,” Cutter panted, thrusting his hips harder, slicking his cock against Billy’s tongue over and over again. He let one hand fall from Billy’s hair down to his face, and pressed his thumb against Billy’s hollowed cheek, and Billy jerked his hips and squeezed his own cock harder.
“Yeah, yeah, that’s-“ Cutter’s body stilled and Billy heard his head hit the truck again as he came down Billy’s throat, his cock pulsing against Billy’s teeth and tongue. Billy pulled his head away and spit onto the ground as Cutter reached out and hauled him up by the arm.
Cutter’s fingers were warm around Billy’s cock, and he dropped his head against Billy’s neck, his breath humid and wet against Billy’s skin. Billy closed his eyes, bit his lip, and came against his belly and Cutter’s shirt and fingers.
Billy slouched there against Cutter, trying to get his breathing under control, and after a minute he took a step back and pulled his jeans up. Cutter gave him a small smirk before fixing himself and clearing his throat.
“That’s not what I came out here for,” Cutter said. Billy laughed and shook his head, turning to lean back against the car. He dug his cigarettes out of his pocket and lit two, taking a long drag before handing one to Cutter.
Cutter took it before coming to lean against the truck next to Billy. They smoked quietly, and then Billy was done and he tossed the butt onto the ground and stepped on it with his boot.
“So. Take care, Cutter,” Billy said, giving him a small nod.
Cutter stepped away from the truck and actually smiled, lifting his hand in a wave. “Yeah. You take care too.”
*
Six weeks later Billy was in a hotel room in the ass end of nowhere, flipping through the channels on the TV and smoking a butt. He came across some big-time deal for curling, of all things, but the name highlighted on the bottom of the screen caught his eye and he felt his mouth curve into a smile.
Billy leaned back in his chair and put down the remote. He chuckled softly and shook his head before reaching over to grab his beer. “Chris Cutter,” he said slowly. “How the fuck have you been?”
Author: estrella30
Fandom: Men With Brooms/Hard Core Logo
Recipient: lilac_one
Rating: NC-17
Double Take-Out
by estrella30
Another five nights; another three thousand miles. Another shitty club in another shitty town, and Billy was fucking tired.
Tired of all the bullshit, tired of touring. Hard Core Logo fucked him up, Jenifur fucked him over, and this new group of guys was probably no better. The most Billy had to hope for was that no one decided to pull a Joe Dick and blow their fucking brains out in the middle of a dirty alley in Edmunton.
It wasn’t much but it was something.
The show tonight sucked; bunch of prissy, sporty faggots in the audience, all too busy watching curling on the bar TV to pay any attention to the music. When they were done playing Billy collected his share of the money and took off without even telling the other guys where he was headed, winding up in front of a nice, little, homey fucking bar in the middle of nowhere.
Billy pushed the door open and breathed a sigh of relief when he saw that the place wasn’t packed to the walls with underage bimbos and loud-mouthed assholes trying to pick them up. Kind of a quiet place: pool table, long bar stretching across the middle of the room. He strode over and grabbed a seat, jerking his head toward the beer taps when the bartender walked over.
There was only one other guy at the bar with him, probably about his age, maybe a little older. Dark hair, pretty face. The guy turned and caught him looking, and Billy ignored him, pulling out a wad of cash and peeling off a few bills when the bartender came back over with his beer.
“You guys got a TV in here?” Billy asked, taking a sip of his drink. The beer was cold and the foam fizzed against the back of his throat. He drained half the mug in one swallow.
The bartender snickered and slid a look at the guy sitting next to Billy at the bar. “Used to,” the bartender said, slowly drying a glass with a dingy rag. “It broke.”
Billy turned his head and saw the shell of a TV hanging on the wall, the inside wires and guts hanging out and glass all over the floor.
“I broke it,” the guy next to him said. Billy flicked his eyes over and watched as the guy took a long pull of his beer, his eyes staring straight ahead.
Billy shrugged and turned back to his drink. “Congratulations.”
The bartender shook his head and took the other guys now empty glass. “Another one, Cutter?”
Billy finished his drink and pushed his glass across the bar for a refill.
Cutter nodded and the bartender grabbed both their glasses. “You needed a new TV in this place anyway,” Cutter was saying as the bartender walked back over and dropped off a new beer for the both of them. “I did you a favor.”
The bartender laughed and him and Cutter started talking about - Jesus Christ, curling? and Billy rolled his eyes. Just another typical night in some stupid-ass hick town. Billy snickered to himself, and pulled his cigarettes out of his shirt pocket. He stuck one between his lips and was patting his jeans looking for his lighter when he felt Cutter looking over at him.
“What?” Billy said shortly. He found his lighter and lit the cigarette, the first sharp blast of smoke stinging his throat.
“You have an extra one of those?” Cutter asked, raising his eyebrows.
Billy narrowed his eyes for a second, then pulled a cigarette from the pack and held it out. Cutter slid off his stool and walked over, taking the cigarette and slipping it between his lips. From this close Billy could see the tired lines around Cutter’s eyes, and something twisted low in his gut as he stared at Cutter’s mouth.
Cutter was just standing there, waiting, and Billy leaned back and barked out a laugh, handing over his lighter. “What, you want me to light your cigarette for you? Are you my fucking date or something?”
“Not hardly,” Cutter mumbled, lighting the cigarette and tossing Billy’s lighter back on the bar. The plastic hit the wood and slid across the bartop, and Billy watched it for a second before turning his back on Cutter.
“Well. It’s been nice talking to you too,” Cutter said sarcastically, wandering back over to his seat. He lifted his hand and gave Billy a mock salute. “Name’s Chris Cutter. Nice to meet you.”
Billy shifted his eyes and saw Cutter sit back down but said nothing. He took another pull of his beer and stared straight ahead.
“You know, I always think it’s so nice when out-of-towners just come waltzing in here, acting like they own the place,” Cutter said. His voice had a sing-song tone that was giving Billy fantasies of how his fist would feel smashed into Cutter’s nose. “It just - gives me a real sense of community or something,” Cutter continued.
Billy slammed his mug onto the bar. “Listen,” he said, sliding off the stool and onto his feet. “I don’t know what your fucking problem is. Maybe your favorite fucking water polo team lost the big game or something, but I need you to shut the fuck up and I need you to do it now.”
One side of Cutter’s mouth curved into a slow smirk. “Really,” he said quietly.
The bartender walked over and sighed. “All right. Settle down, Cutter,” he said, half-chuckling. “Isn’t the TV enough damage for one night?”
“Really,” Billy said looking directly at Cutter, ignoring the bartender. “Shut your fucking mouth, pretty boy.”
“All right, that’s it,” the bartender said, waving his hand around. “Both of you. Enough.”
Cutter took another step closer and Billy could see the way his hands were balled into fists so he did the thing he figured would piss Cutter off the most. “I think I’m done here anyway,” Billy said, laughing. “You yuppies have yourself a good night.”
He could feel Cutter’s eyes on him while he tossed more money on the bar and finished his beer. He knew Cutter was watching him as he walked slowly through the bar, taking his time to look around at the pictures on the walls, the other customers sitting quietly at tables watching them.
Billy pushed the door open and walked out into the cool night air, taking a deep breath and holding it until his chest hurt and his lungs burned. He shoved his hands in the pockets of his jeans, and when he heard the door open a few feet behind him, he knew it was Cutter without even turning around.
The truck Billy was using was parked over in the corner of the lot, half-hidden behind a tree and in front of a dumpster. He wandered over to it, walking slowly, taking his time, and when he felt the back of his jacket get pulled sharply, he spun around swinging.
His first punch landed short and only clipped Cutter’s jaw, but it was enough to throw Cutter off balance and the next punch Billy landed was right against his mouth. Billy felt Cutter’s teeth rattle together against his knuckles just before a trickle of blood was dripping from his mouth and onto Billy’s fingers.
“What the fuck is your problem?” Cutter grunted, reaching up to wipe the blood off his lip. He looked down at his hand, his eyes wide and surprised, before whipping his head up and shoving Billy hard against the truck. Billy’s head snapped back and hit against the side window and he blinked slowly, trying to bring things back into focus. The next thing he knew Cutter’s fist was smashing into his nose and he could hardly breathe.
“Motherfucker,” Billy muttered, shoving Cutter hard against the chest. Cutter stumbled back and Billy shook his head; his nose was bloody but not broken and he twisted his fingers in Cutter’s pretty fucking leather jacket and spun him around, banging his head back against the truck.
“Watch your fucking hands,” Billy ground out. Cutter was breathing hard and he licked his lip, blood staining the tip of his tongue. He panted and dropped his eyes, staring at Billy’s mouth, and his breathing slowing. He looked back up at Billy’s face, then down at his mouth again, licking his lips slowly.
Billy closed his eyes and leaned in, pressing his mouth hard against Cutter’s. Cutter tasted like blood and beer and he reached up and knotted his fingers in Billy’s hair, pulling him closer. Cutter panted into his mouth, pushed up off the side of the truck, and Billy slid his thigh between Cutter’s legs, feeling the hard press of Cutter’s cock against his leg.
“Jesus,” Cutter moaned, shoving his hips hard against Billy’s. “Jesus fuck.”
Billy pulled his head back and slowly opened his eyes, watching Cutter’s face as he reached down to palm Cutter’s cock through his jeans. Cutter bit his lip and let his head fall back, and Billy took a minute to sink his teeth into his throat as his fingers worked the button and zipper on Cutter’s jeans.
Cutter’s skin was soft and Billy licked across the teeth-marks he'd left before dropping to his knees and pulling Cutter’s jeans down his hips.
“What the fuck-“ Cutter grunted. Billy reached up with one hand and shoved him back against the car when Cutter tried to move.
“Shut up,” Billy said, licking across the head of Cutter’s cock. “Just shut your fucking mouth.”
Billy dimly heard Cutter’s head thunk back against the car as he sucked his cock into his mouth. Cutter’s fingers were grabbing onto Billy’s hair, and he tugged against them, stopping only to moan, “Harder,” when it felt like Cutter was going to let go.
The button on Billy’s jeans popped easily, and he reached down and grabbed his dick hard in his hand, jerking it sharp and fast as he sucked Cutter’s cock deeper down his throat. He kneeled up and felt his jeans slide down his hips and he closed his eyes, his lips kissing the fist he had around Cutter, already tasting the salt of his come.
Cutter let out a long, low moan, his fingers knotting even tighter in Billy’s hair. He could feel Cutter trying to hold back so he held still, forcing Cutter to move, to fuck his mouth to get what he needed.
“Jesus Christ,” Cutter panted, thrusting his hips harder, slicking his cock against Billy’s tongue over and over again. He let one hand fall from Billy’s hair down to his face, and pressed his thumb against Billy’s hollowed cheek, and Billy jerked his hips and squeezed his own cock harder.
“Yeah, yeah, that’s-“ Cutter’s body stilled and Billy heard his head hit the truck again as he came down Billy’s throat, his cock pulsing against Billy’s teeth and tongue. Billy pulled his head away and spit onto the ground as Cutter reached out and hauled him up by the arm.
Cutter’s fingers were warm around Billy’s cock, and he dropped his head against Billy’s neck, his breath humid and wet against Billy’s skin. Billy closed his eyes, bit his lip, and came against his belly and Cutter’s shirt and fingers.
Billy slouched there against Cutter, trying to get his breathing under control, and after a minute he took a step back and pulled his jeans up. Cutter gave him a small smirk before fixing himself and clearing his throat.
“That’s not what I came out here for,” Cutter said. Billy laughed and shook his head, turning to lean back against the car. He dug his cigarettes out of his pocket and lit two, taking a long drag before handing one to Cutter.
Cutter took it before coming to lean against the truck next to Billy. They smoked quietly, and then Billy was done and he tossed the butt onto the ground and stepped on it with his boot.
“So. Take care, Cutter,” Billy said, giving him a small nod.
Cutter stepped away from the truck and actually smiled, lifting his hand in a wave. “Yeah. You take care too.”
*
Six weeks later Billy was in a hotel room in the ass end of nowhere, flipping through the channels on the TV and smoking a butt. He came across some big-time deal for curling, of all things, but the name highlighted on the bottom of the screen caught his eye and he felt his mouth curve into a smile.
Billy leaned back in his chair and put down the remote. He chuckled softly and shook his head before reaching over to grab his beer. “Chris Cutter,” he said slowly. “How the fuck have you been?”