Fic repost: Very Good Things (The Rundown, Beck/Travis)
Title: Very Good Things
Fandom: The Rundown
Pairing: Beck/Travis
Rating: NC-17
Summary: Immediately after. Well, okay, ten to twelve hours after. (More or less.)
Notes: Written as an extra goodie for wizefics in the yuletide exchange. Thank you to kisahawklin, suaine, and kageygirl for betaing. 2500 words. The title is a reference to a line in the movie, and also Peter Berg's first film, Very Bad Things. If it doesn't make any sense, it's because I came up with it at two in the morning.
It's three am when they finally check into the Motor Onn Inn, some two hundred miles short of the state line. Beck would have kept going, but his eyes are too gritty to keep the yellow line from telescoping into the white and he doesn't trust Travis to get them where they need to go. He doesn't trust Travis with much of anything--except, apparently, his life. And all things considered, his life isn't worth all that much after that little stunt with Billy this afternoon.
The room isn't bad, not any worse than some places he's stayed in before. Grubby all-weather carpet and orange polyester-sheened bedspreads are the worst of it. The bathroom is clean, if small, and the sink doesn't drip. Travis tosses his pack on the bed closest to the door; Beck picks it up and tosses it onto the one closer to the bathroom. Travis frowns; Beck crosses his arms and waits.
"Oh, I get it," Travis says with that cockeyed look that makes Beck think he spent half his childhood in the loony bin. "The whole protecting thing, right? That's so cool."
Beck drops the intimidating posture and scrubs a hand over his face. It's too late to spend that much effort on someone who just doesn't get it. Not when he could be brushing his teeth. He's had fast food grease gunking up his palate for way too long now, so he moves to his bed and opens his duffel. He has his hand on the tube of toothpaste when he sees Travis making a beeline for the door, dressed only in his boxers. Beck throws without thinking.
"Ow!" Travis yelps, rubbing the back of his head. "What the hell was that for?"
"You want to explain to me where you think you're going?" Beck asks as he scoops up the tube. It's thankfully undamaged by its encounter with Travis--which is more than he can say for himself.
"To the pool." Travis gives him that shocked 'how can you be so square' look that shouldn't be allowed on the face of anyone over twenty-two. "I've been squished into that dinky car all day. My legs are killing me."
"Like mine aren't?" The Honda definitely hadn't been his first choice, comfort-wise, but Walker thinks in straight lines.
"Yeah, so? Come out with me, then. Just be quiet, man. I wouldn't put it past Grandma Moses up there to call the cops on us if she catches us breaking pool curfew."
"She wasn't that old--" Beck frowns, frustrated at being distracted by the labyrinth of Travis's logic once again. "No. Pool. What part of hiding out don't you get?"
Travis opens his mouth.
"Or do you want to go back home to daddy? Because I can arrange that."
Travis shuts his mouth. "Fine. You don't have to be all snippy about it." Travis flounces back towards his bed, snagging the remote on his way.
"Oh, no." Beck sets his toothpaste and toothbrush down on the tiny rim of the sink. He marches over to Travis's bed and plucks the remote out of his hand. "No TV. I need to sleep."
"Oh, come on. I'll watch it without sound." Travis reaches for the remote, but he's still lounging on the bed. Beck doesn't even have to try to keep it out of his reach.
"I said no. We need to get an early start, and I can't do that if I can't get some sleep."
Travis pouts up at him. It's one of his more effective expressions--or it would be, if Beck weren't so damn tired. "Come on, big guy. I just need to wind down. I've got way too much energy to sleep."
"Not my problem." Although it kind of is, because if Travis can't--or won't--sleep, then Beck can't sleep.
"Oh yeah?" Travis rises up on his knees. Then he pokes Beck in the chest with his index finger. "You owe me."
Beck grabs Travis's finger, careful not to twist too much. "Owe you? How many times were you dropped on your head as a child, anyway?"
Travis tugs back on his finger. When Beck doesn't let go, he simply brings his left hand up and pokes Beck in the pec with that index finger. Beck rolls his eyes and grabs that one, too.
"Oh, is that how it's going to be? You wanna wrestle?" Travis grins maniacally. "Wanna see some more thunder? Maybe a little lightning? Huh? Huh?"
Despite himself, Beck chuckles. "Yeah, go on. Bring it."
Travis eyes him for a moment. Then he pulls back on his arms at the same time he flings himself up off the bed and wraps his legs around Beck's thighs.
Beck raises an eyebrow.
"Oh, come on." Travis starts wiggling his body, jerking backwards now and again in an attempt to throw him off balance. "What are you, a mountain?"
Beck shifts, not so much to compensate for Travis's weight as to avoid the more intimate brushing the wriggling produces. Except he must not have been subtle about it, because Travis stills. His eyes go narrow and smoky, and his smile is toothy on one side. Like a jungle cat salivating over its prey.
"Not made of stone, though," Travis says--and he starts moving again. Slowly. Sliding that skinny ass over Beck's groin, undulating more effectively than any lap-dancer could hope to do. Beck sucks in a breath. Then he grabs hold of Travis's waist and tosses him to the bed. He takes a step back while Travis is still bouncing, but the wall's right there, blocking his immediate escape route.
Travis laughs. "What's the matter, big boy? Don't know what to do with me now that I'm not running away?"
Beck hesitates. "Travis..."
"The way I see it, you've got two options." Travis grins smugly. "Option A, you come down here and I show you exactly how grateful I am for the rescue."
Beck swallows, needing to clear his throat but not wanting to give Travis that much satisfaction. "And Option B?"
Travis's grin fades away. His gaze goes intense, like he's trying to pull off a sultry movie-siren smolder. "Option B? I make you come down here."
"I'd like to see you try," Beck says before his brain can put the smackdown on the dare. No sooner are the words out of his mouth than Travis is twisting, kicking out at the side of Beck's knee and knocking him off balance just enough that it's easier to crash down to the bed than to go to the floor and risk damaging something. Travis might not be trained, but he is lightning-quick. He's on top of Beck before the bed's done bouncing.
"I knew you'd go with Option B," Travis says, smiling like he's got neurological damage. He lays flat on top of Beck so they're chest-to-chest, stomach-to-stomach. Groin-to-groin. Travis's cock is hard next to his own, and there's really no pretending he's not interested now. Beck could either hit him or kiss him, and he lost his desire for violence a long time ago. Travis opens to him immediately, groaning into the kiss like a porn star. He's not faking it, though. Not with the way he's grinding into Beck. Driving him crazy.
"I knew it," Travis crows when they part. "I knew you couldn't resist me."
"Shut up," Beck says, and punctuates his point by rolling them over and biting Travis's neck. Travis shuts up nicely, apart from the breathy moans and grunts that keep escaping.
Beck's more than willing to put up with those. He doesn't remember when he first started wanting to do this, when he first started seeing Travis as more than one last, annoying obstacle standing in the way of his freedom, but he can't pull the wool back over his own eyes.
"Come on, big guy," Travis says, squirming beneath him. "Come on." He wraps his legs around Beck's thighs, feet snugged in tight behind his knees, holding Beck in place as he starts thrusting fast and hard. Beck lets him for a minute, dropping his head and closing his eyes as the need starts to take over. But Travis has been setting the rhythm between them too often since the moment they met, and Beck's not going to come in his pants. He doesn't have that many clean clothes with him, after all--and white linen stains. He shoves his right hand between them, reaching down until he's got a good hold of Travis's balls.
And squeezes.
"Oh, fuck!" Travis freezes in place, but the look on his face isn't one of pain or fright. He looks like he's doing his best to hold himself back, to keep from shooting all over himself. Beck moves his own hips back, out of the danger zone, and starts rubbing, more gently this time. Travis's eyelids flutter as he bites at his lower lip, and he whines, deep in the back of his throat. His legs drop away from Beck's, thighs opening wide to give Beck all the access he needs. For a moment Beck considers stripping him completely naked, but if Travis's boxers are a mess, he's not going to sneak out in the middle of the night to go swimming.
He takes a moment to get out of his own clothes, though, tossing them towards the other bed with far less care than they deserve. Travis has opened his eyes, and his gaze is fixed firmly on Beck's cock. "See something you like?"
Travis makes another one of his faces, pin-up pouty this time. "You know I do. So are you going to fuck me now, or what?"
Beck's cock jumps. He clears his throat of the yes, right now, yes, yes that's already formed. "Do you have anything with you?"
"There's a convenience store a block down," Travis says quickly. "It wouldn't take that long..."
"Not tonight." There's no way he's going out in this state. "Tomorrow, first thing."
Travis's eyes go big. "God, yes."
Beck kneels on the foot of the bed, back to his original plan. He crawls up between Travis's legs, ignoring the scratchy, humid bedspread, and settles himself half on his side, upper arm hooked over Travis's thigh and elbow planted so he can support his head. He brushes his fingers over the mid-seam of Travis's shorts, barely hard enough to be more than a tickle across his balls. Travis moans anyway. Beck firms his touch, rubbing and rolling until he has to throw his other leg over Travis's to keep him on the bed. He moves up, working Travis's cock fast and firm through the cotton, taking a little break from the rhythm every now and then to pay special attention to the head.
"God, man. Yeah, that's... Yeah, yeah, keep-- Gah." Travis is babbling even more now than he usually does, which shouldn't be a surprise. Words turn into long vowels and cut-off consonants, and that's when Beck pushes his hand up the leg hole so he can touch skin for the first time. Travis throws his head back and comes, hot all over Beck's hand--and his own boxers. Beck gentles him through the aftershocks, and then he pulls free, making sure to wipe off on a dry patch of cloth.
Travis finally seems to notice. "Aw, man, that's disgusting!"
Beck lifts an eyebrow. "Like you haven't done it before."
Travis opens his mouth, but a grin breaks out before he can act any more affronted. "Yeah. You've got me there."
Beck snorts.
Travis smiles at him, looking purely happy for once. No goofy grins, no squirrely eyebrows. Just open, friendly happiness. Something higher than Beck's cock jumps and twitches, but he ignores it, intent on lying down at Travis's side instead. Travis is a more relaxed kisser now that he's come. Almost lazy, except for the way he keeps chasing Beck's mouth, intent on turning his brain to molasses and grits with his skill. Somehow Travis has managed to set the rhythm between them again, guiding Beck over onto his back with the press of his mouth, keeping him there with gentle bites to his throat and finger-tweaks to his nipples.
He's lost in a jungle-thick haze of lust as Travis moves over his body. His muscles tense, realizing before he does what Travis intends, but that in no way prepares him for the shock of sensation when Travis actually goes down on him. Beck has always taken note of Travis's big mouth, but damn, he'd never imagined anything this good. He curls his fingers tight, pushes his head and shoulders back into the mattress, forcing his energy down and away from Travis's mouth.
"Travis," he says, without really meaning to. Travis reaches up, hand fumbling against Beck's and then taking control. Prying his fist open and drawing his palm down to Travis's head. Beck doesn't grab hold, doesn't dare push down, but Travis's hair is soft under his calluses. Travis seems to find the weight of his hand inspiring, because he speeds up, going indiscriminate and sloppy, not really minding his teeth. It's so perfect Beck has to thrust up, press down with his hand--and come.
Travis pulls away with an obscene wet smack of his lips while Beck is still contemplating the sparkles in the ceiling spackle. He climbs off the bed and shuffles around doing something, then turns out the light. He tugs on the bedspread and sheet until Beck grunts and lifts his legs and ass just enough to get underneath. Travis slides in beside him, fitting himself against Beck's side like there's no question of any other option.
Then again, it is four in the morning, and it's been a hell of a long day. Beck rolls over, throwing his arm across Travis's side, and falls asleep.
He wakes to the sound of the door chain rattling and a muffled curse. Beck launches himself to his feet, scanning the room for threats with gunk still gumming up his eyes and the sun half-blinding him. Instead of Billy's goons, though, Travis is standing in front of him, grinning and a little wide-eyed.
And wet.
"Take it easy, man. I just did a few laps while you were sleeping in. I'm fine, see?" Travis holds his arms out to the sides and rotates in a slow circle, showing off the body that Beck didn't really get to explore that much last night. "I'm going to take a shower. You might want to check into finding some coffee. You look a little dead."
Travis pats him on the chest. Beck stares down at his hand as it slides away, then watches until Travis drifts out of sight. His brain doesn't kick in until the water pipes rattle and whine.
"Travis!" he yells, pounding on the bathroom door. "I'm going to kill you! Those boxers were silk!"
Fandom: The Rundown
Pairing: Beck/Travis
Rating: NC-17
Summary: Immediately after. Well, okay, ten to twelve hours after. (More or less.)
Notes: Written as an extra goodie for wizefics in the yuletide exchange. Thank you to kisahawklin, suaine, and kageygirl for betaing. 2500 words. The title is a reference to a line in the movie, and also Peter Berg's first film, Very Bad Things. If it doesn't make any sense, it's because I came up with it at two in the morning.
It's three am when they finally check into the Motor Onn Inn, some two hundred miles short of the state line. Beck would have kept going, but his eyes are too gritty to keep the yellow line from telescoping into the white and he doesn't trust Travis to get them where they need to go. He doesn't trust Travis with much of anything--except, apparently, his life. And all things considered, his life isn't worth all that much after that little stunt with Billy this afternoon.
The room isn't bad, not any worse than some places he's stayed in before. Grubby all-weather carpet and orange polyester-sheened bedspreads are the worst of it. The bathroom is clean, if small, and the sink doesn't drip. Travis tosses his pack on the bed closest to the door; Beck picks it up and tosses it onto the one closer to the bathroom. Travis frowns; Beck crosses his arms and waits.
"Oh, I get it," Travis says with that cockeyed look that makes Beck think he spent half his childhood in the loony bin. "The whole protecting thing, right? That's so cool."
Beck drops the intimidating posture and scrubs a hand over his face. It's too late to spend that much effort on someone who just doesn't get it. Not when he could be brushing his teeth. He's had fast food grease gunking up his palate for way too long now, so he moves to his bed and opens his duffel. He has his hand on the tube of toothpaste when he sees Travis making a beeline for the door, dressed only in his boxers. Beck throws without thinking.
"Ow!" Travis yelps, rubbing the back of his head. "What the hell was that for?"
"You want to explain to me where you think you're going?" Beck asks as he scoops up the tube. It's thankfully undamaged by its encounter with Travis--which is more than he can say for himself.
"To the pool." Travis gives him that shocked 'how can you be so square' look that shouldn't be allowed on the face of anyone over twenty-two. "I've been squished into that dinky car all day. My legs are killing me."
"Like mine aren't?" The Honda definitely hadn't been his first choice, comfort-wise, but Walker thinks in straight lines.
"Yeah, so? Come out with me, then. Just be quiet, man. I wouldn't put it past Grandma Moses up there to call the cops on us if she catches us breaking pool curfew."
"She wasn't that old--" Beck frowns, frustrated at being distracted by the labyrinth of Travis's logic once again. "No. Pool. What part of hiding out don't you get?"
Travis opens his mouth.
"Or do you want to go back home to daddy? Because I can arrange that."
Travis shuts his mouth. "Fine. You don't have to be all snippy about it." Travis flounces back towards his bed, snagging the remote on his way.
"Oh, no." Beck sets his toothpaste and toothbrush down on the tiny rim of the sink. He marches over to Travis's bed and plucks the remote out of his hand. "No TV. I need to sleep."
"Oh, come on. I'll watch it without sound." Travis reaches for the remote, but he's still lounging on the bed. Beck doesn't even have to try to keep it out of his reach.
"I said no. We need to get an early start, and I can't do that if I can't get some sleep."
Travis pouts up at him. It's one of his more effective expressions--or it would be, if Beck weren't so damn tired. "Come on, big guy. I just need to wind down. I've got way too much energy to sleep."
"Not my problem." Although it kind of is, because if Travis can't--or won't--sleep, then Beck can't sleep.
"Oh yeah?" Travis rises up on his knees. Then he pokes Beck in the chest with his index finger. "You owe me."
Beck grabs Travis's finger, careful not to twist too much. "Owe you? How many times were you dropped on your head as a child, anyway?"
Travis tugs back on his finger. When Beck doesn't let go, he simply brings his left hand up and pokes Beck in the pec with that index finger. Beck rolls his eyes and grabs that one, too.
"Oh, is that how it's going to be? You wanna wrestle?" Travis grins maniacally. "Wanna see some more thunder? Maybe a little lightning? Huh? Huh?"
Despite himself, Beck chuckles. "Yeah, go on. Bring it."
Travis eyes him for a moment. Then he pulls back on his arms at the same time he flings himself up off the bed and wraps his legs around Beck's thighs.
Beck raises an eyebrow.
"Oh, come on." Travis starts wiggling his body, jerking backwards now and again in an attempt to throw him off balance. "What are you, a mountain?"
Beck shifts, not so much to compensate for Travis's weight as to avoid the more intimate brushing the wriggling produces. Except he must not have been subtle about it, because Travis stills. His eyes go narrow and smoky, and his smile is toothy on one side. Like a jungle cat salivating over its prey.
"Not made of stone, though," Travis says--and he starts moving again. Slowly. Sliding that skinny ass over Beck's groin, undulating more effectively than any lap-dancer could hope to do. Beck sucks in a breath. Then he grabs hold of Travis's waist and tosses him to the bed. He takes a step back while Travis is still bouncing, but the wall's right there, blocking his immediate escape route.
Travis laughs. "What's the matter, big boy? Don't know what to do with me now that I'm not running away?"
Beck hesitates. "Travis..."
"The way I see it, you've got two options." Travis grins smugly. "Option A, you come down here and I show you exactly how grateful I am for the rescue."
Beck swallows, needing to clear his throat but not wanting to give Travis that much satisfaction. "And Option B?"
Travis's grin fades away. His gaze goes intense, like he's trying to pull off a sultry movie-siren smolder. "Option B? I make you come down here."
"I'd like to see you try," Beck says before his brain can put the smackdown on the dare. No sooner are the words out of his mouth than Travis is twisting, kicking out at the side of Beck's knee and knocking him off balance just enough that it's easier to crash down to the bed than to go to the floor and risk damaging something. Travis might not be trained, but he is lightning-quick. He's on top of Beck before the bed's done bouncing.
"I knew you'd go with Option B," Travis says, smiling like he's got neurological damage. He lays flat on top of Beck so they're chest-to-chest, stomach-to-stomach. Groin-to-groin. Travis's cock is hard next to his own, and there's really no pretending he's not interested now. Beck could either hit him or kiss him, and he lost his desire for violence a long time ago. Travis opens to him immediately, groaning into the kiss like a porn star. He's not faking it, though. Not with the way he's grinding into Beck. Driving him crazy.
"I knew it," Travis crows when they part. "I knew you couldn't resist me."
"Shut up," Beck says, and punctuates his point by rolling them over and biting Travis's neck. Travis shuts up nicely, apart from the breathy moans and grunts that keep escaping.
Beck's more than willing to put up with those. He doesn't remember when he first started wanting to do this, when he first started seeing Travis as more than one last, annoying obstacle standing in the way of his freedom, but he can't pull the wool back over his own eyes.
"Come on, big guy," Travis says, squirming beneath him. "Come on." He wraps his legs around Beck's thighs, feet snugged in tight behind his knees, holding Beck in place as he starts thrusting fast and hard. Beck lets him for a minute, dropping his head and closing his eyes as the need starts to take over. But Travis has been setting the rhythm between them too often since the moment they met, and Beck's not going to come in his pants. He doesn't have that many clean clothes with him, after all--and white linen stains. He shoves his right hand between them, reaching down until he's got a good hold of Travis's balls.
And squeezes.
"Oh, fuck!" Travis freezes in place, but the look on his face isn't one of pain or fright. He looks like he's doing his best to hold himself back, to keep from shooting all over himself. Beck moves his own hips back, out of the danger zone, and starts rubbing, more gently this time. Travis's eyelids flutter as he bites at his lower lip, and he whines, deep in the back of his throat. His legs drop away from Beck's, thighs opening wide to give Beck all the access he needs. For a moment Beck considers stripping him completely naked, but if Travis's boxers are a mess, he's not going to sneak out in the middle of the night to go swimming.
He takes a moment to get out of his own clothes, though, tossing them towards the other bed with far less care than they deserve. Travis has opened his eyes, and his gaze is fixed firmly on Beck's cock. "See something you like?"
Travis makes another one of his faces, pin-up pouty this time. "You know I do. So are you going to fuck me now, or what?"
Beck's cock jumps. He clears his throat of the yes, right now, yes, yes that's already formed. "Do you have anything with you?"
"There's a convenience store a block down," Travis says quickly. "It wouldn't take that long..."
"Not tonight." There's no way he's going out in this state. "Tomorrow, first thing."
Travis's eyes go big. "God, yes."
Beck kneels on the foot of the bed, back to his original plan. He crawls up between Travis's legs, ignoring the scratchy, humid bedspread, and settles himself half on his side, upper arm hooked over Travis's thigh and elbow planted so he can support his head. He brushes his fingers over the mid-seam of Travis's shorts, barely hard enough to be more than a tickle across his balls. Travis moans anyway. Beck firms his touch, rubbing and rolling until he has to throw his other leg over Travis's to keep him on the bed. He moves up, working Travis's cock fast and firm through the cotton, taking a little break from the rhythm every now and then to pay special attention to the head.
"God, man. Yeah, that's... Yeah, yeah, keep-- Gah." Travis is babbling even more now than he usually does, which shouldn't be a surprise. Words turn into long vowels and cut-off consonants, and that's when Beck pushes his hand up the leg hole so he can touch skin for the first time. Travis throws his head back and comes, hot all over Beck's hand--and his own boxers. Beck gentles him through the aftershocks, and then he pulls free, making sure to wipe off on a dry patch of cloth.
Travis finally seems to notice. "Aw, man, that's disgusting!"
Beck lifts an eyebrow. "Like you haven't done it before."
Travis opens his mouth, but a grin breaks out before he can act any more affronted. "Yeah. You've got me there."
Beck snorts.
Travis smiles at him, looking purely happy for once. No goofy grins, no squirrely eyebrows. Just open, friendly happiness. Something higher than Beck's cock jumps and twitches, but he ignores it, intent on lying down at Travis's side instead. Travis is a more relaxed kisser now that he's come. Almost lazy, except for the way he keeps chasing Beck's mouth, intent on turning his brain to molasses and grits with his skill. Somehow Travis has managed to set the rhythm between them again, guiding Beck over onto his back with the press of his mouth, keeping him there with gentle bites to his throat and finger-tweaks to his nipples.
He's lost in a jungle-thick haze of lust as Travis moves over his body. His muscles tense, realizing before he does what Travis intends, but that in no way prepares him for the shock of sensation when Travis actually goes down on him. Beck has always taken note of Travis's big mouth, but damn, he'd never imagined anything this good. He curls his fingers tight, pushes his head and shoulders back into the mattress, forcing his energy down and away from Travis's mouth.
"Travis," he says, without really meaning to. Travis reaches up, hand fumbling against Beck's and then taking control. Prying his fist open and drawing his palm down to Travis's head. Beck doesn't grab hold, doesn't dare push down, but Travis's hair is soft under his calluses. Travis seems to find the weight of his hand inspiring, because he speeds up, going indiscriminate and sloppy, not really minding his teeth. It's so perfect Beck has to thrust up, press down with his hand--and come.
Travis pulls away with an obscene wet smack of his lips while Beck is still contemplating the sparkles in the ceiling spackle. He climbs off the bed and shuffles around doing something, then turns out the light. He tugs on the bedspread and sheet until Beck grunts and lifts his legs and ass just enough to get underneath. Travis slides in beside him, fitting himself against Beck's side like there's no question of any other option.
Then again, it is four in the morning, and it's been a hell of a long day. Beck rolls over, throwing his arm across Travis's side, and falls asleep.
He wakes to the sound of the door chain rattling and a muffled curse. Beck launches himself to his feet, scanning the room for threats with gunk still gumming up his eyes and the sun half-blinding him. Instead of Billy's goons, though, Travis is standing in front of him, grinning and a little wide-eyed.
And wet.
"Take it easy, man. I just did a few laps while you were sleeping in. I'm fine, see?" Travis holds his arms out to the sides and rotates in a slow circle, showing off the body that Beck didn't really get to explore that much last night. "I'm going to take a shower. You might want to check into finding some coffee. You look a little dead."
Travis pats him on the chest. Beck stares down at his hand as it slides away, then watches until Travis drifts out of sight. His brain doesn't kick in until the water pipes rattle and whine.
"Travis!" he yells, pounding on the bathroom door. "I'm going to kill you! Those boxers were silk!"