Title: Nine Points of the Law

Author: Barb G

Rating: nc-17

Pairing/Fandom: Joe/Billy Hard Core Logo

Archive: Just let me know

Warnings: none

Disclaimers: Not mine, but they're lurking in my closet anyway. Bad Joe! Get off Krycek! First one who makes the other bleed dies in the next story!

Notes: Melissa should get partial writing credit, she's that good of a beta. Amy helped, too. This takes long before the movie.

Nine Points Of The Law
By Barb G

"Right there," Billy said, motioning, and the pick-up truck slowed down and pulled to the side of the street. The bar was just another shit-hole, but the sign out front said Hard Core Logo, even if the O's were different shades of weather-beaten red.

The two guys looked impressed. "Take it easy," the guy who had noticed his Vomiting Dogs T-shirt said. Billy thanked them again, and as he got out of the truck, the bottles clanked together.

The bar wasn't paying for their drinks, so it was cheaper to run out to the liquor store than to pay the bar tab. The fact that he was the one who had to go really pissed him off, but it served him right for dozing while Joe was delegating responsibility. He had just kicked coke again, and he was compensating for it with whiskey, but the closest liquor store was at least half an hour away. Joe sure as hell didn't fork over any extra cash to cover a taxi, but the two guys had offered to drive him back, which saved him the walk. It still put him on slow burn that he was the only member that still needed to use a fake ID, yet he was the one sent off.

The bar was nothing much, the main door on the street opened to a small hallway just before the main doors of the bar, and the hall stunk of beer and piss. Their hand-printed flyers had only been up on the walls for a couple days, but they already looked ratty and torn.

They still had half-an-hour before they were due to go on; the last three gigs they had they'd been late, and now Joe was going through another responsible phase. The canned music from the bar blared loud enough to shake the walls as Billy walked through bar to the Employees Only door.

The hall to the dressing room was just as dingy as the one out to the street, without the smell of urine. He pushed open the dressing room door and the throbbing music didn't cover the sound of the couch banging against the wall. He turned on the lights, but Joe didn't stop fucking the groupie.

She didn't even try to push him off as Billy stood in the doorway. Joe looked at him, and bared his teeth as he yanked her head back. "Want a piece?" Joe asked.

Fucking asshole. Joe wanted to see him react, but Billy didn't give him the satisfaction. He turned around and left, but not even the music could drown out Joe's grunts as he started fucking her again. Billy made it six feet down the hall before he slammed his fist against the wall, and it dented into the plaster. His knuckles started to bleed and he cursed, trying to shake off the pain, which only made them throb worse. Fuck again. He didn't know which bothered him more, that he had walked in on Joe, or that Joe had sent him away so that he wasn't supposed to find out about it. Only Joe could punch him in the stomach and never have to actually touch him to do it. His hand throbbed again, and the pain didn't piss him off, but if Joe noticed it, he'd know Billy lost it. "Fuck," he said, going back into the bar.

"Well, that's a tempting offer," a British voice drawled.

Billy turned around. The man sat alone at a table. He sat properly, with his hands drumming on the table. A martini glass sat untouched in front of him. Billy stared, suddenly feeling humble. "Mr. Haight?" he asked. The throb of his hand stopped bothering him, and he stuck it out. He realized how incredibly uncool it must have made him look, but he couldn't exactly withdraw it.

"And you are Mr. Tallent. Call me Bucky." Bucky said. He carefully took Billy's hand, and the pain suddenly throbbed again, but the contact didn't make it any worse. "Perhaps you should put some ice on that, Mr. Tallent. I would hate to have come all this way and not have the pleasure of
listening to you play."

Billy flushed. His name was still new enough that it sounded odd, but Bucky's voice was soft and mellow without a hint of sarcasm. "Um...yeah..." Billy said. His first thought was to run back and get Joe, but he dismissed it. He maliciously hoped that the slut was worth it as he went to the bar
and had the owner wrap up ice in a towel. Pipe and John had finished setting up, and now were in the process of disappearing out the back. Billy watched them go, glad he didn't have to share Bucky Haight with anyone.

He returned to the table, and Bucky motioned him to sit down. "Better?" he asked.

"I've fucked myself worse," Billy said. He hesitated, cursing himself at the crudeness of it.

Bucky only smiled. "I'm sure you have. Would you like a drink?"

He nodded. Bucky motioned the owner with an elegant wave, and the man brought Billy a beer. The bar had started to fill up, and the customers were sitting up near the stage rather than in the dark wall booths. It was an angry bunch, and Billy felt his heart beat faster.

"Billy," Joe snapped from the employee door. "Get your ass back here."

Billy shot him the finger. Joe's eyes narrowed as he saw Bucky, but it took him a moment to realize who it was. Joe came to the table and put his hand over Billy's shoulder. It was meant to be casual, but Joe's fingers dug in through Billy's thin T-shirt. Joe always had to show him up. Billy couldn't help falling over their personal god, but Joe only nodded once to Bucky. "If you're not too busy, William, we would like you to fucking get your ass backstage so we can get ready."

Backstage. It was a fucking hallway. Bucky nodded, and Billy stood up. Joe followed him back through the door and then cuffed Billy over his ear. Billy whipped around and pushed Joe against the wall. Joe stumbled for an instant and then grabbed Billy's sore hand. Billy didn't wince, but he
exhaled sharply as Joe squeezed it. Joe noticed, of course, and pulled his hand closer to the light. He looked at Billy and grinned.

Billy yanked his hand back. "That was Bucky Haight," he said. Joe reeked of sex and cheap perfume. Billy spitefully ignored the smear of lipstick on Joe's chin. He wasn't going to let Joe think he cared.

"I know who the fuck it was," Joe said, but his eyes were too bright again. The music was going to be raw and bleeding, and despite himself, Billy felt his dick get hard.

"So why were you such an asshole? He came here to hear us," he snapped.

"That was Bucky Haight," Joe mocked, cocking his head back. He moved into Billy, again, and it was Joe's turn to inhale. "And you're Billy Tallent. For fuck sake, you would have eaten his shit if he asked. Did you want to suck his dick, too?"

Joe was fucking furious at Billy's find, and it made Billy smile. Nether one of them noticed John who must have come into the hall halfway through the conversation. John flushed and motioned to the dressing room. "We're on," he said.

Joe glared at him, but left him in the hall to go up to the stage. Billy grabbed his guitar and followed Joe out.

Bucky had moved closer to the stage. The thrashers at the bar were either too young or too stupid to know who sat with them, but Bucky didn't seem to mind the anonymity. Droplets of sweat began to gather on Joe's bare scalp, and he observed the crowd gathered with absolute contempt. "Fucking assholes," Joe growled into the mike. The crowd looked up, hungry for more abuse, but Joe kept silent. Billy frowned, moving up behind Joe, but Joe waved him off.

The silence lasted long enough that the expectation of the crowd became almost unruly. Joe sneered again, ignoring the first of the hisses, and then he glanced at Billy.

Billy nodded, moving away. Pipe coughed, and then a heartbeat later they all exploded into sound.

It was only noise, but the bar didn't seem to care. Billy tried to match Joe, but Joe fucked with him. Leading him on to almost familiar places, and then changing everything. Billy tried to drown him out, but while Pipe followed him, John still tried to struggle along with Joe's bullshit.

After the set, or whatever the hell that was, Joe stalked into the dressing room. Billy glanced at Pipe and John, and they both nodded. Billy stalked after him. "What the fuck was that?" Billy demanded.

Joe unscrewed the bottle and downed it like water. He finally pulled the bottle away and coughed. "What the fuck do you care?"

"You wanna fuck with me, Joe, fuck with me, not the music."

Joe tried to roundhouse him, but it was sloppy and Billy ducked out of the way. "Make goddamn cow-eyes on your own time, Billy-boy," Joe said. He sucked down another couple inches of whiskey, and Billy took the bottle from him, gently. Joe coming down was never a pretty picture. Joe's hands shook, and he shoved them in his jeans' pocket. It didn't stop the shaking; it only made him look like he was jerking off.

"You fuck up this gig, Joe, and we might not get another one," Billy said.

"Fuck that."

"No, fuck you. I am not going back to living in a goddamn van and using all our money to pay parking fines. Not again, Joe. Not for you, not for anything."

"And you think Bucky is going to take you away from all that. All you have to do is crawl up between his legs."

He almost laughed it off, but apparently Joe wasn't kidding. "You asshole," he hissed, and turned around to leave. Joe grabbed his hips and pushed him against the wall.

"At least I'm not a bitch," Joe said, and then panted into his ear.

"What was her name?" Billy asked, feeling numb as Joe's whiskey breath touched his neck.

"I didn't ask. At least she put out."

Billy twisted away from him; the game was officially over. "I put out," he snarled.

Joe pushed his thumb hard against Billy's lips, and as Billy felt the bruises form, he stood still for it. Joe sneered at him; Billy knew that his occasional passivity made Joe furious, but he took the anger with everything else. "But not far enough, Billy-boy," he said. He tried to start a kiss, but Billy turned away.

"You got twenty minutes to get your shit together, Joe. Shit on the stage like that again and you'll be fucking with yourself alone."

Billy left Joe in the dressing room and went out to the alley for a smoke. He didn't go back inside until it was time.

Joe had put on a pair of Billy's sunglasses. They were so dark that it would have made him almost blind in the dim light of the club, but, blind or not, the second set was distilled genius. Joe gripped onto the mike and fucked everything around him. Billy kept up with him, but the second set was Joe's and Billy kept to the back and played homage.

When it was over, Joe took off the sunglasses, snapped them in half, and threw them away. He jumped off the stage, and walked out the front door. The audience, who had drunk heavily to compensate for the shit played in the first set, had made themselves too stupid to respond. Billy pulled off his guitar and went backstage. Pipe and John followed, but he ignored them. He stripped off his soaking T-shirt, and he felt the sweat slide down his neck as the cold air raised goosebumps over his shoulders and arms.

"If that cocksucker pulls that bullshit one more time--" Pipe began, but then paused when Billy glared at him.

"Shut up." He kept his voice flat, and Pipe looked away and poured himself a drink. Pipe wasn't worthy of spit shining Joe's boots, and he was too stupid to know that. Billy pulled on a dry T-shirt and left them in the dressing room, knowing that Joe wanted him to play hide and go seek.

"Mr. Tallent," Bucky called from his table. Billy paused. Fuck Joe and his hysterics. If the man could play a guitar as well as he could play Billy, Billy would be out of a job.

Billy glanced out the door, and Bucky nodded. "I understand. If you want to talk, I'll be here," he said. He gave Billy a napkin with an address and a room number. Billy took it, shoved it in his pocket, and left the bar.

He made it back to the room they'd found for the week, but the room was empty. Billy slammed the door shut, pissed at Joe for changing the rules. He went into the bedroom he and Joe staked out, picked up his half empty bottle from his bed and threw himself down on the couch with no legs. The gig had paid more than they were used to, and they had actually found a room that had come clean. After a day of occupation, he couldn't tell anymore, but it was a step up.

He didn't know where Pipe and John were, but they didn't come back to the room. By the time the door opened again, his bottle was empty.

Joe came in with his arm over a young punker. He had a mohawk like Joe's, but his was dyed bright purple. Handcuffs dangled off the boy's shoulder, and his ears were pierced with safety pins. He wasn't as tall as Joe was, and he was rod thin. His tight jeans didn't do anything but show off his chicken legs, and the scraggly blond hairs on his chin looked like they'd taken months to grow. Joe stood in the doorway, daring him to say anything, but Billy staggered to his feet.

The boy looked at Joe. "You didn't say there was two of you," he said, but didn't look too upset. Billy plucked Joe's hand off the punk's ass and pushed the boy away. "Run along home, little boy," he said.

The punker glanced to Joe, but Joe didn't respond to him. "I thought--" he tried again.

"You thought wrong. Get your ass out of here before I have to beat it," Billy said. He pushed the punk, who stumbled backwards. Billy pushed him hard a second time, and the boy fell hard on his ass in the hall. He slammed the door shut and locked it.

Joe still hadn't moved. Billy smelled sex again, under the sweat and spilled beer. He could imagine punk-boy on his knees in front of Joe, and he stared at the bottle on the floor. It was easier to be angry at the bottle for being empty then it was to be angry at Joe for being Joe.

Joe moved to him, as if he realized he had gone too far. "Poor Billy," he said, sitting down next to him, and ran his hand down Billy's chest. "How blue are your balls?" Joe asked, kissing at his neck.

Billy threw off Joe's hand off him in disgust; Joe was too drunk to notice anything less subtle. "Don't touch me," he snapped, pushing to his feet.

"Don't touch me," Joe repeated, making his voice shrill, following him up. "You filthy beast, You shall never have me!"

"Dickhead," Billy snapped. "Go fuck yourself."

"Who gave you the concrete enema?" Joe demanded as he drummed his fingers against his hipbone. "Stop being a bitch and come here."

"Bite me," Billy said.

Joe grabbed him, but Billy pushed him back. Joe sneered at him, and Billy suddenly wanted to destroy the debauched look on his face. He slammed his fist into Joe's mouth, and forgot about his wounded knuckles. The pain knocked them both to their knees, but Joe recovered first. He caught Billy right below his right eye. Blood ran down his face, but the alcohol kept him from feeling anything but pressure against his cheekbone.

"You done?" Joe demanded.

Billy spat in his face, and the spittle mixed with the blood from Joe's nose. Joe wiped it off with the back of his fist and then licked it off, slowly, working his tongue between his knuckles. "Flirt," he said, dropping his voice down.

Billy stared at him. If he kept to his knees, within moments they were going to be up against each other hard, but he stood instead. Joe sat back on his heels, obviously shocked at Billy not playing by the rules. Billy walked away. Joe's laughter followed him out into the hall.

#

It was four thirty by the time Billy made it to Bucky's hotel room. Bucky answered the door, fully dressed and holding another drink. "I take it then that you found him," Bucky said.

Billy touched his cheek. His finger came away tacky. He wiped off his face with his sleeve, and the blood smeared on the denim of his jacket. "Yeah, I found him."

"Lover's spat?"

Normally Billy would have been pissed off at the implication, but Bucky looked too sincere. He loved Joe, but it wasn't that easy. "Something like that," he said.

"I believe you need some ice again, or you'll start to swell," Bucky said. He motioned Billy inside, and then went to his ice bucket that held a bottle of gin in it. He took a face cloth down, filled it with half-melted cubes, and handed it over. Billy pressed it against his cheekbone, and the cold ached for a heartbeat and then blended into the rest of the aches the whiskey had failed to chase away.

"He's not a bad guy," Billy said. "Joe is just..." 'fucked in the head' came up, but he was able to stop himself from saying it. "...messed," he finished.

"He is very talented. You're both...very talented."

Billy cocked his head. Bucky took Billy's hand with the bruised knuckles and gently ran his finger over the bruises. The touch was gentle, and Billy stared down at it. Bucky had the same draw as Joe, the same magnetism that Billy found irresistible, but Bucky had mellowed. Once, maybe, he might have been as angry as Joe was, but Billy was beginning to appreciate the alternative.

"Billy?" Bucky asked, dropping his voice lower. Billy looked up, realizing he had done nothing to stop the caress.

"I don't..." Billy began, but of course he did. Only with Joe, though, as if that made any difference.

"Of course. I completely understand," Bucky said, and pulled away from the touch.

Billy's hand went cold, and he suddenly didn't want to go back to Joe. He looked up at Bucky and shook his head. "I don't usually do this," he finished.

Bucky closed the door behind him.

Billy was going to have a promoter who would book him in hotels like this one or fancier. One where they left little mints on the pillow and brought you anything you wanted from the kitchen. Someplace where everyone from the guy who opens the door to the guy who brings the bags up tip their hats and said "sir".

Bucky must have seen the look on Billy's face. "One day you'll be living much higher than this, Billy," he said. "You have the ability and the drive."

The room was nothing fancy, but the bed was big enough for Joe and Pipe to sleep on as well. "What about Joe?" Billy asked. It was kind of like grinding his tongue into a canker sore and reveling in the pain, but he had to ask.

"Joe has the ability. Drink?"

"Stupid ass question," Billy said. He felt himself sobering, and if he ever surfaced, he wasn't going to go through with it. Bucky must have realized that as well, because the water glass was half full. He drank back half of it, coughed, and then looked around for a place to sit. The only logical place was the bed, and Billy almost blushed again like it just occurred to him what he was doing here. Bucky moved next to him, "It's okay, Billy. The bed's big enough if you just want to sleep."

Billy almost dropped the glass. He finished it quickly and put it down on the bedside table. "One thing you should know. I don't..." the words tripped in his mouth. Thrasher rock-star punk-ass bitch and he couldn't even say the words. He flushed, and then cleared his throat. "I don't take it up the ass," he finished.

Bucky just smiled at him. Billy was pretty sure it was condescending until Bucky reached up and cupped his chin. Bucky slid Billy's jacket off his shoulders, and the denim fell to the floor. The T-shirt followed, and Billy shivered at the cold air currents in the room. Bucky had long, thin fingers, and they traced out his ribcage. The fingers hesitated over old scars, but since most of them linked directly back to Joe, Billy kept his mouth shut. Bucky nodded and continued his search.

His cock moved sluggishly against his thigh. Being...examined was too fucking weird. Bucky was almost clinical about it. He gave no indication of approval or disapproval, but would occasionally make a sound to himself. Billy almost pulled away from it when Bucky's hand moved to his hips. "May I?" he asked.

Billy undid his jeans. Bucky guided them down and helped Billy step out of them. It was...odd...being completely naked in front of someone. He and Joe never really bothered, somehow that made it too weird. It was easier to accept if they just opened their flies while they sucked each other off. They had fucked each other over their jeans when they were kids, but it wasn't satisfying and Joe kept trying to force it into more.

Bucky stepped back. Billy rubbed his palms against his thighs, knowing that covering himself up would be uncool, so he glanced down again. Joe would laugh his fucking ass off if he saw him like that. He didn't make a very convincing virgin.

Bucky knelt down in front of him, and Billy tried not to jump away. His cock, despite the perversity of the whole thing, was half-awake. There had been no name-calling, no violence, no intimidation; he had let Bucky strip him, and now Bucky was going to suck his cock. It seemed almost too easy. At least with Joe, the rules were simple. He did what he wanted and took what Joe gave him. There was no gentleness to it, but there didn't have to be unless they were both totally drunk and forgot to be assholes. Billy almost pulled back, suddenly wanting to know what exactly Bucky wanted, but then Bucky shifted so that his lips barely brushed the tip of his cock. The logic shut down, and he let Bucky slide his cock down his throat.

He was glad that Bucky hadn't turned on any lights in the room. The light through the curtains made everything into shades of grey, and it was odd to be inside the mouth of someone who deliberately covered their teeth. Bucky's mouth was soft, and a lot gentler than either Joe or the young groupies who didn't have a clue about giving head besides what they read in stolen penthouses. He could almost see his own letter to Penthouse..."I never thought it would happen to me, but--" he felt Bucky's breath move his pubic hair, and suddenly it was very real. He never knew what to do with hands. He wanted to force Bucky's head closer to his body, but rubbed his
nails up and down his thighs instead. The slight pain sparked through his body, and he tilted his head back. It made swallowing more difficult, but stretching his muscles made it worth it.

Billy tilted his head back. Bucky wrapped his hands around Billy's waist, and they kneaded into his ass. His heartbeat thudded faster in his throat, and he had to open his eyes in order to keep the room from spinning around too quickly. He almost wanted to brace himself, but there was nothing in his immediate area to hold onto, and he wasn't going to move an inch if it meant dislodging his dick from where it was. Only the incredible mouth around his cock kept him focused. He wanted to wrap his hands in Bucky's thick hair. He looked down again, flushing at how blown out Bucky's sunken cheeks were around him. His knees started to throb with the need to come, and it radiated up through his pelvis to his shoulder blades. He started to sweat, and the dry air of the room chilled him. Bucky moved his hands away; one of them gathered his testicles, and the other nudged his legs apart. Billy was almost too far gone to obey, but Bucky worked his long fingers behind his balls, and nudged the back of his balls, and his entire body sparked. He opened his mouth, but there had been too many nights with Pipe and John in the next room...and sometimes even in the same van, for him to make any noise.

Billy couldn't stop shuddering. He tried clenching his muscles, but Bucky had found the exact pressure. His cock was still deep down Bucky's throat, and it was incredible to feel the heat and moisture around him as he came. Neither he nor Joe swallowed, like that made it less faggy. Usually they'd come into a wad of Kleenex if it was handy or a towel or T-shirt if it wasn't, and then they'd break apart and never mention it again until the next time. Bucky was too old to play the games Joe and he excelled at, and that left Billy with nothing in his arsenal.

Bucky said nothing about his space-out, but Billy saw the flash of...disappointment?...on his face. Bucky stood up and motioned to the bed. "Good night, Billy," he said, and went into the bathroom.

Billy stood there, stupid for a moment, and then realized he'd just been rejected. He pulled back the blankets and laid down. Bucky came out of the bathroom, nude, and in the grey half-light, Billy saw how thin the man's cock was; it was almost lost in his pubic hair. Billy watched him get into the bed, but Bucky didn't try to approach him.

"What did you expect?" Billy asked, staring up into the ceiling.

"I don't know," Bucky said. His voice sounded detached.

Billy moved to him, running his fingers down Bucky's ribcage. "Let me," he said.

Bucky moved onto his back, but he winced as Billy's callused fingers touched him. "You guitar players," he said. He reached over him into the bedside table, and brought out a jar of Vaseline. Bucky worked a generous glob into Billy's hand, and the contact started to make him hard again. Bucky noted his discomfort. "To be a teenager again," he whispered.

Billy blushed again, hating himself, but was more careful when Bucky brought his hand down to his cock once more. Bucky parted his lips to sigh, and his body seemed to unfold and relax. Billy was fascinated; Joe never let him know how much he enjoyed being jerked or sucked. He'd stand or lie still, entire body tense, and gave him no indication that he was about to come. Billy had to get up and wash his mouth out a couple times after he had misjudged Joe.

Billy froze as Bucky reached for the lube again, and he almost got out of the bed as Bucky shifted closer to him to work it between his thighs. "I don't--" he started again, but Bucky pressed his finger against Billy's lips.

"Trust me," he said. "Spread your legs a little."

He was about to tell Bucky to shove it, but for some reason, he spread his legs. Bucky slicked down the top of his thighs, but he never tried to touch his ass. It was odd to trust a bedmate.

"Tell me if you don't like this," Bucky said, and then moved over him. "That's right, now close your legs. Gentle."

Bucky kept most of his weight off of him, and feeling someone else's cock so close to him was fucking weird, but he liked it. He relaxed somewhat, and Bucky must have felt it.

"That's right, let me do the work until you get the hang of it," Bucky whispered. The first time he moved, Billy jolted. Bucky let him jump and then froze, waiting for permission to move again.

Billy nodded, lying back. Bucky started to move again, gently, but it took Billy about four seconds to get the hang of it. He reached down to grab Joe's...Bucky's ass and began to flex up to meet him. Bucky laughed at him, but he dropped the gentleness.

It wasn't as fully satisfying as a real fuck, but as Bucky moved against him, their sweat-slicked skin touched. The cock against his was wrong; Joe was thicker and uncircumcised, and he wouldn't be moving so that every rub helped him get off, too, but he could close his eyes and imagine.

Billy twisted up so that only the back of his head was against the pillow. Bucky started to grunt as he fucked harder, and the sound was so inelegant compared to the rest of him. The man whispered his name into his neck, and didn't seem to mind Billy pressing his own lips together in case he fucked it up.

Bucky's fingers wrapped around his cock, jerking him off with his motion. If Bucky had touched him like that an hour ago, he would have gone off in his jeans, but he was able to enjoy it more having just come. His body flushed again, and sweat ran down his temples and dripped behind his ear. Bucky's breath smelled of martinis, and Billy didn't know what he would do if Bucky tried to kiss him. Not that Bucky tried, which was also freaky. Joe seemed to delight in kissing him. It was another domination game, like deciding who got to top. Neither one of them really minded losing; they just preferred to win.

Bucky's fingers tightened against his cock, not enough to hurt but enough to pull him back. Drifting from Joe to Bucky made his cock even harder, and Bucky was doing things to him that Billy hadn't even figured out for himself yet. He squeezed his eyes shut, letting a moan escape, and then he felt Bucky's finger brush against his ass. He flinched, hoping Bucky was just going to find that spot again, but Bucky pressed against his asshole.

"Don't," he said, not willing to open his eyes.

"Hush, it'll feel good," Bucky whispered.

The finger pressed against him. "Stop that," he said, voice raised slightly. There was enough lubrication between them that he couldn't tighten his muscles hard enough to stop the invasion.

"Trust me, you'll love it," Bucky said, shifting against him.

His stomach twisted at something moving inside him, even it was only half an inch, and the drunk made the queasiness worse. "Fuck you, I will. Get off me."

"Billy, I'm not going to hurt you. I want you to--"

Billy shifted, and the finger pulled out of him. "I told you, nothing up my ass. Get up."

Bucky looked down at him, and Billy saw the shit he was in, but then he realized he was probably stronger. He fought, and Bucky tried holding him down, but Billy forced him off. He rolled out of bed, and the lube between his legs was suddenly slimy. He wiped himself off as best as he could with his T-shirt.

Bucky rolled onto his side to watch. "It was nice meeting you, Mr. Tallent," Bucky said.

Billy flushed, but he pulled on his jeans. He left his T-shirt behind. He hugged his jacket to his chest. The zipper had broken over two years ago and he never bothered to get it fixed.

"I thought you wanted to play with the big boys," Bucky said.

Billy glared at him, trying to pull on his boots. "You're never going to make it without playing the game, William."

"I like my own game," Billy snapped. He turned, walking to the door.

"Bring Joe around for drinks the next time I'm in town. I promise I will play nicely."

Billy shut the door behind him, and didn't realize how much his hand shook until he saw it against the doorknob. He felt slippery inside, and it creeped him out. Asshole or not, he suddenly wanted Joe, and it made him laugh. He could just see Joe's face when he told him what happened. Joe
had a lot fewer hang-ups about sex than Billy did, nor was sympathy his greatest characteristic.

The desk clerk looked up at him as he stepped out of the elevator, but he ignored her disapproval. The sun had risen over the mountains as he stepped onto the street again. He made it back to their dingy room and unlocked the door.

Joe was alone in the room that they shared. He didn't hear Pipe and John snoring from the next room, but was too tired to wonder where the hell they were. He stripped off his jacket and his boots as quietly as he could, but Joe rolled over and opened his eyes anyway.

"Bucky get lucky?" Joe asked.

"Fuck off," Billy snapped, but moved over to Joe's bed. Joe hesitated only for a heartbeat, and then lifted up his blanket. Billy slid in next to him.

"Sweet talker. So, what's he like?"

"I don't want to talk about it," Billy said.

"Fucked you senseless, did he?" Joe asked, but shifted over to his other side. He was naked, but didn't seem to mind Billy's jeans. After a moment of adjusting, Joe's warm thigh pressed between Billy's.

"You really are an asshole, Joe," Billy said, but moved closer.

Joe looked at him, tilting his head back for second. He must have seen something, because he changed the subject, and for once it seemed like he knew enough not to push. "Yeah, but you love me."

Billy didn't contradict him.

END