Title: Foreshadow

Author: Amy B.

Fandom: Hard Core Logo

Pairing: Joe/Billy

Rating: NC-17

Date: September 12, 2000

Archive: all the usual places

Sequel/Series: 4th in Revelations series, but probably stands alone

Disclaimers: Y'all know the drill-- The boys are Not Mine. Used and abused without permission.

Warnings: Somewhat non-consensual sex. Some mild hand worship (not Billy's this time). A couple of intentional tense changes.

For Melissa (feel better soon!) and Diane 'cause Bucky's watching over me. Love the Corry's Slug & Snail Death.

Revelations 4: Foreshadow
by Amy B
---------------

Billy swallowed convulsively, and ducked his head to wipe his mouth and chin on his T-shirted shoulder. He jerked his loose pants down as he crawled up Joe's lax body. "Okay, now do me."

"No." Stopping Billy just as he straddled his waist, Joe closed his eyes and took Billy's cock in his hand, not gently but not *too* rough either. He used exactly the grip he used on himself, and probably had no idea if that was what Billy liked best or not. Why would he care?

Billy had hoped this time would be different...Fuck that. It would be. It was time to change the rules. They couldn't keep up with this uneven exchange of favors--or rather, Billy couldn't. Obviously, it was working just fine for Joe.

Taking Joe's hand off his dick, Billy leaned down and Joe, watching through glittering cat-slitted eyes, let him. Closer, closer, until his mouth was hovering above Joe's, less than a breath away. "You want me."

"Never said that." Joe replied, harsh but *quiet*, barely a puff of air against Billy's wet lips.

"Didn't have to." Arms bent at an awkward angle, holding up his weight, started to tremble. And that struck Billy as appropriate, since every other part of him--inside and out--was vibrating like a guitar string, plucked and strummed and humming.

"You want *me*, Bill. Always been that way." Joe's voice remained quiet, sandpaper scraping over sunburn. Rough hands came back to Billy's cock, squeezing the hard length in a tight grip, wringing an involuntary groan out of Billy. Joe might not care how Billy wanted to be touched, but sometimes...just sometimes...he *knew* exactly how to do it. Hard pressure at the base, lessening as his hand slid higher, then a firm squeeze at the tip. The little last minute twist that could have hurt but never did, and then the whole thing started again, tearing Billy apart and rebuilding him into a new and interestingly different shape.

Ordinarily, Billy could get lost in the feel of Joe's hands on him--wide palms, thick callused fingers, the nails chewed down so low that Billy never had to worry about getting scratched. Strong hands that could knock him on his ass or make him wail with pleasure. Soft *cruel* hands that could fuck him up, fuck him over, set him on fire. Nicotine-stained fingers that could pull things--dark, dangerous bits of him--out of his soul and crush them or turn them loose, setting them free on an unsuspecting world. And make Billy like it. Oh yeah, that's what hurt the most, but right now...

Billy's arms started shaking and he let go, his body collapsing onto Joe's, his face just barely missing a collision with Joe's bared teeth, instead sliding along his jaw in a glancing blow. A bolt of blinding pain shot up from Billy's dick and balls as they got squashed between them and Joe squeezed him too hard. Billy thought that was reflex--once he got his breath back and his vision cleared--but he'd never be sure. With Joe, he was never sure of anything.

When Joe turned his cock loose and slipped his hand free, Billy tried to get a sigh of relief or words of gratitude past his clenched teeth, but all that came out was a whistling hiss. He managed to relax his jaw but still nothing came out because Joe had threaded his fingers through Billy's hair and was tugging his head up. Pulling at him until they could look at each other.

And when Billy's eyes were locked on his, unable to look away even if he'd wanted to, Joe raised his head and licked a line up the side of Billy's face. Shuddering and thinking of how sweaty, smoky *grimy* his skin probably was, Billy started to pull away, but the fingers in his hair tightened and Joe sunk his teeth into his jaw. Biting lightly, just a needle prick sting, as if in warning-- 'this is what I COULD do...if I wanted to...HURT you' and he just might, but Billy froze and closed his eyes and wondered when he'd catch his breath again. Before he passed out would be nice.

And then Joe spoke raspy hot against his ear, "I'm gonna fuck you like a girl."

*What the fuck*? Billy jerked, ignoring the pain at the back of his head, and said, "Oh fuck n--"

Joe's mouth cut off the last word, but Billy wasn't going to let that slide. He pushed Joe's tongue out of his mouth with his own and jerked his head to the side again, gasping and shaking and... "No, nuh uh, not that."

"Yes." Joe's hiss slid across him and curled into his ears like a snake preparing to strike, and then Joe struck, by rolling over, flipping Billy onto his back, the hard floor driving his breath from his lungs again.

Stunned and still--somehow-- aroused, Billy bucked hard against Joe and got a laugh in return. "Fuck, yes. That's it, Bill. Fight me, bitch."

Joe turned Billy's hair loose so he could get his pants, and Billy rubbed his aching scalp against the floor and wondered when he'd lost all control of this and why. Why he wasn't fighting more violently and why his cock was so hard and why the feel of Joe's hard cock against him made his insides shiver and heat just pour off him, taking sweat and doubt and inhibitions and... Making him want it and think, oh no, this can't be right and what the fuck?

"Joe, you can quit now. You've made your point, all right?" Billy gritted the words out, sarcastic and irritated, but didn't have the first clue what the fuck he really meant. No point in any of this except coming and getting the fuck OFF and keeping...something...intact.

When he swallowed hard and arched his back, Joe shifted just enough that *Billy* made their cocks rub together and then Joe was between his legs, shoving his shaking knees apart. Billy kicked convulsively and Joe reached back, grabbed his ankle, and squeezed so hard the bones seemed to scrape together under his skin, making Billy drop that idea right damn quick. And all that time, Joe had his face pressed to Billy's chest, biting and scraping his teeth at the thin barrier of cotton, until it eased up and he moved down. His open mouth hit the bare skin of Billy's stomach, and Billy moaned and shoved at Joe's shoulders. Joe's teeth and tongue were driving him wild and if he'd just go a little lower...ah yeah, all would be forgiven...like, *forever*.

But Joe raised his head and spit on Billy's belly and then moved higher. Hovering over Billy with a triumphant smirk, he rubbed his cock through the spit and sweat, until it was wet and slick and Billy was writhing on the floor, whimpering, "Nuh uh nuh uh" over and over and giving up speech all together when his "fuck, no" sounded suspiciously like "fuck...me". That was not what he said, was it? Not what he meant.

Who knows? Who cares? 'Cause Joe's shoving his cock up Billy's ass and Billy's screaming and hauling his fist back and hitting Joe in the shoulder. And then...he's *in* and oh...yeah, okay. There's something...unexpected about *that*. Hurts, yeah, but good and hot and oh no, he's fucked. He is *so* fucked, in more ways than one and there's no getting around it this time.

And Joe, that bastard, is rearing back and grinning right in his face. Daring him, hit me again, bitch...and Billy does. He jerks his hips up and sends Joe in deeper even as he clocks him one upside the head with a loosely clenched fist--because his heart's not in it, not *really*. Joe is lunging at him, laughing and drilling into him, and Billy can't fight anymore and what's the point anyway? He *wants* Joe to keep going, because if he stops now he'll surely die. Or kill Joe. And then he's seizing up and falling apart and coming, coming all over his belly and Joe is looking at him in pure triumph, tinged with...what the fuck is that? And then Joe convulses over him and then he's gone. Pulling away and leaving Billy empty. Burning and hurting and, oh, feeling so good and weak and wondering how the hell he'll get out of this one. Because he has to...right?

Joe collapsed next to Billy with a gusty sigh and said, "What'd I do with my cigarettes?"

Billy moved gingerly, aches and pains all over, inside and out, reached up over his head and scrabbled his fingers through a pile of discarded clothes until he found a pack with a lighter stuck down in the side. Then he threw it at Joe's face, but his hand came up quickly enough to catch them before impact. Damn it.

Joe flicked the lighter's flame over the end of a cigarette and sucked a short, sharp drag, then took it out of his mouth and stuck the filter between Billy's slack lips. Self-preservation closed his mouth before it could fall out, and he drew in a deep lungful of smoke as he watched Joe through barely open eyes as he lit another one for himself.

Lying on his back on the scuffed and scarred wooden floor, half-naked, sweaty and wrecked, Joe looked the very picture of peace as he blew slow streams of smoke toward the ceiling. And Billy felt completely lost, thinking he'd give anything for a fraction of that peace.

All he'd wanted was a little more give and take, some *balance* in their relationship, but he was left even more unbalanced than before. Joe had taken *yet again* and given nothing...but not quite, eh Billy? There was *something* good in all this. Oh yeah, it was good--physical pleasure, but was the rest worth it? He'd have to think...

No. It really wasn't, and he had to say so. "Joe, if you ever do that again, I'll be out of here so fuckin' quick you won't even see me go."

Joe smirked and hitched up his pants, but remained on the floor, cigarette hanging out the corner of his mouth as he said, "Nah. You and me, Billy, we're forever. No matter what happens with the band, *we* don't change."

Billy dropped his cigarette butt in an empty beer bottle and rolled up into a sitting position. Joe didn't get it, but Billy knew he was speaking the truth. He'd leave, if Joe did it again. If Billy let it happen again, he wouldn't be *able* to stay. A chill ran up his spine at the thought, but he just reached for a flannel shirt and did what he always did.

He got ready for another show.

The End.