Straight.

Hard Core Logo fanfic

by methosgrrl.

This is *not my fault, I am innocent*.

Blame Killa, who said, "oh, you have to see HCL, its so wonderful"....

And then, blame Mairead, cause she beta'ed this.

Billy and Joe are not mine. No copyright infringement intended, no profit made, yadda yadda. Copyright 2000 methosgrrl. Please do not forward, redistribute, or archive anywhere without permission.

Straight

by Methosgirl

"Listen, if anybody else did the things you have done, I would call them foolish, but somehow or other you make them seem so terribly right."
-Henry Miller to Anais Nin.
-------

Just another evening, Billy and Joe going to a club to listen to a couple other bands play, no big deal. The music was ok, the performances acceptable, certainly not as fierce as Hard Core Logo could rock a crowd, but bearable.

But it was cool hanging out; just the two of them. Joe as poorly behaved as ever, Billy adopting his comfortable pose of long suffering companion. Women didn't stop crawling all over them no matter how much Joe spit, and the two of them had a good laugh about eyeballs being gouged out in the women's bathroom over Who Got To Talk to Joe and Billy First.

But they settled on one brave and reckless girl who could not only tolerate direct eye contact with Joe, but made it clear she wouldn't mind partying with Billy, too; it had been a while since they had done that, or at least been able to remember doing it, so they took her up on it.

It was fun, getting her naked, listening to her giggle while Joe talked nonstop, delivering the mixture of astonishingly offensive language and mischievous little boy charm that served him so well. And things only went downhill when Billy handed him the bottle of whiskey he had snagged from the bar; amazing stuff from the old country (whichever one that was). It was made with some kind of special peat and tasted like a smooth, scotch flavored fire. A fine accent to the taste of fresh pussy, according to Joe, who had splashed it all over her and then lowered his mouth to the wet warmth between her thighs.

Joe always looked predatory, but now he reminded Billy more than anything of a cobra, poised for a killing bite. His tongue flickered over her clitoris, exposing her to the dim light and Billy while he lay on the bed between her legs. His eyes were lit with dangerous knowing humor as he watched Billy sit in an easy chair next to the bed, fly open, stroking his own cock between slow swallows of beer and acerbic commentary on Joe's performance.

"C'mon, Joe, do something already. She's starting to look kinda bored."

Another giggle. "I am not, he's fucking *amazing*, he--ohh!" Another moan.

Joe paused, wiped his chin, ran his tongue over his bottom lip. "Hear that man? She digs it, so like, shut the fuck up. You're just jealous cause you can't get a chick off doing this. It's like, a fuckin'
*talent*, man. You either got it or you don't."

"Whatever, Joe." He finished off the bottle of beer in his left hand, ran the palm of his right over the head of his cock. "When you get tired of faking it, just let me know and I'll do you for real, okay?"

A smothered howl of scorn erupted from Joe. "You *wish*, asshole." He lifted his head to lock his gaze with hers, fingertips moist with her wetness now seeking inside. She closed her eyes, hips sinking more deeply into the bed, moving in an obvious response to pleasure. "Don't worry Billy, my turn next, and you get to see how a real man gives it up."

Billy feigned a yawn, carefully spreading the moisture leaking from his cock over his fingertips and down the shaft. "Yeah, well, wake me up when it's over, ok?"

* *

Okay, so he hadn't slept through the whole thing. Hadn't actually slept at all, hadn’t *wanted* to, hell, had hardly closed his eyes to blink. Joe was amazing, that same powerful mix of taunting, dominance, surprise and fulfillment he poured out on stage now unleashed on this woman they barely knew. Joe teased her without mercy, held her wrists down when she finally tried to touch herself in frustration, kept her on the edge for so long she begged him to let her come, cursing and pleading "let me, god, let me please, please, please, goddamit...let--..." Billy might have felt some sort of sympathy for her except for the wicked joy on his best friend’s face.

Much later it was his turn. Joe was sated for the moment, although the years had taught him that you could never tell for sure when it came to Joe and sex. Billy moved in and out of her, as slowly as he could, just trying to make it last, the way she moaned for him sounded almost as good as her body felt... kissed her, the taste of whiskey mixed with the blunt aftertaste of Joe's cock still in her mouth, softness of her breasts a simple delight to his skin. He closed his eyes, concentrating on sensation, when he realized Joe was touching him.

No, touching them both, his hand sliding in sweat and friction between their two bodies. Palm on those big soft breasts, fingers playing with the nipples, then moving lower still, rubbing her clit in a way that made her shout with surprise, tighten herself around Billy's cock and press her heels *hard* into his shoulders...

*Shit*. He sucked in a deep lungful of air, trying to hold it back, keep it in, make it last just a little while longer, but then he could feel those fingers on *his* body, playing with the base of his cock, then moving to touch him at-- *oh fuck, fuckin' Joe, don't go there, goddamit!* at that place just behind his balls. He turned his head, opened his eyes, he knew what he would see.

Joe looking at him, eyes so dark, glittering like diamonds and stars and glacier ice, but dark, dark, dark. He knew what those eyes meant, he knew what Joe's silent caresses meant too.

Billy had watched Joe just moments before, when Becky (Elaine?) had gone down on him, taken his cock in her mouth and worked him over like a porn star ("I don't swallow," she announced without apology, but she didn't have to, didn't have do anything more than drive Joe crazy, which she did well. And he had been far too proud to beg... at first.).

And man, he liked that, seeing Joe lose it, watching him give up that studiously practiced sneer, that hard lacquer coating of punk rage, that whole fucking human razor blade act and let it go, let it all loose in orgasm, not a tragic icon of hedonism, self destruction, and anarchist music genius.

Seeing Joe just be a man.

But now Billy was about to come, his body turned traitor, making those telltale primal, preorgasmic movements... he knew it couldn't just *be*, not with the two-- sorry, the three of them there like that.

Joe moved that fingertip *inside* of him... not hard, not forcing it, not something he could fight against, complain about, punch him for trying... gentle, so incredibly gentle, touch opening him, making him feel, then going inside, deeper, shit, felt so good, violation and pleasure and his body arching *back* into that touch and then *forward* into that hot welcoming depth. Again, and again, and again.

*Shit,* now he becomes the one who has to let go, who doesn't have control over anything anymore, not his voice, not his cock, not his ass clutching at that *fucking goddam* finger inside of him... now he's the ordinary man caught in the act...

And Joe sees it. The secret is out, raw flesh peeled open, stripped naked in that hard slap of helplessness from pleasure. Joe sees that nudity of Billy's soul-- and it makes him *smile*.

Helplessness around Joe was never a good idea under any circumstances, and especially not these, his body shaking in the aftermath, laying his head down between her breasts. That finger *still* teased him, moving in small circles *motherfucker stop it* with other fingers hovering under
his balls.

*No*. This has to stop... he can't say anything though, Barbara (Jill? Elaine?) will figure it out and they can't have that rumor flying around North America by dinnertime tomorrow. No. He can fix this, really he can. He grunts, fighting gravity and his own desire to just lay there on this soft woman, and pulls out of her, the act of taking himself out of her and holding on to the condom putting an end to Joe's tactile intervention.

But he knows; they both know now. Joe did that to him and he *liked* it. Just that little tease, just that little stroll on the edge of some serious perverted shit, but he got off on it anyway. Not what it would be like if it was Joe's cock in him, or even his cock in Joe, but goddam close enough.

*Motherfucker.*