Slashababy 2004 Stories

  FANFICTION: This story depicts real-life public figures engaged in completely fictional, false and untrue activities. It never happened, it never will happen. This story is a work of fantasy and satire which in no way professes to express the truth about the life, thoughts, feelings, desires, opinions, beliefs, activities or sexual orientation of any person mentioned herein.

SC 383 765

for katiekat2505
by kraken_wakes

Pairing: Billy Boyd/Sean Bean
Rating: NC-17
Summary: Sean reminded his body exactly who was in charge. This lasted all of two minutes until his body, with some help from Billy's hand on his thigh, committed a coup.
Disclaimer: I am Ozymandias: look on my works, ye mighty, and despair. Or: this is a work of fiction.
A/Ns: All places mentioned herein are real ones - thanks to kelly_mercer for being my Isle of Man beta and sunsetmog for being my sounding board. The title is the Ordinance Survey grid reference for the Sefton Hotel in Douglas. The assignment was for 'happy smut'. Billy and Sean spent a few weeks on the Isle of Man over the summer while filming 'Missing'. The Isle of Man is a lovely place but a bit weird. All locations are real ones.


Nostalgia is a beautiful thing, Sean reflected, squished into a booth between an hyper-active ex-Hobbit and the World's Biggest Stuntman in one of the nicest public houses he'd had the fortune to visit, but nostalgia can't take the place of actual experience. Of course, the part where he was being squished while a small man with an incomprehensible accent leaned across him to talk to the surprisingly soft-voiced stuntman was highly familiar; all that was missing was a brace of hobbits, a lounging elf and the King of Men. But this was not the Lord of the Rings shoot and Sean was five years older, five years more experienced and still filming in the proverbial back-of-beyond with Billy Boyd.

Hollywood might be like a small, intimate and occasionally incestuous town, but he had to stop working with his Rings castmates. People were starting to talk.

It was now past two am and they were taking full advantage of the Isle of Man 'no closing time' rule. The Traf was small, but it had the distinct advantage of being on the quay and for a man who came from Yorkshire, Sean had an odd affinity for the sea. He also had an odd affinity for interesting pubs and this one made you go up a flight of stairs before even getting as far as the bar. Not to mention the fact that there had been two interesting live bands on.

Of course, they still had to be back on set at an obscene time of the morning but Sean had gone into stoic Man of Gondor mode about that and was studiously pretending that he didn't have to do anything tomorrow (today) apart from laze around the rather nice accommodation that the studio was forking out for.

Not that he wouldn't be his usual professional self on set, of course. That would be the professional that he was on such serious projects such as Troy and Ronin and not on Lord of the Rings where any professional credibility he might have had was destroyed by allowing certain unnamed castmates to treat him as surrogate father, brother and confidante.

Sean Bean, RADA trained actor and veteran of a respectable number of films (even if he did usually play the villain) was not about to let his reputation be trashed because he was overcome with soppiness due to exposure to a bunch of raving queens and a daft Dane.


Sean quite liked the Isle of Man. It was northern and a bit weird which suited him down to the ground although seeing men wearing kilts outside of Scotland (and certain parts of Ireland) had made him take a step back. Or three. And it was nice seeing John, who had insisted on entertaining he and Billy about three times already and they'd only been on the island a week or so. There were some spot on pubs and Billy had wandered off and (true to form) had discovered the world's smallest museum.

The people were nice as well. Friendly and completely unimpressed by either of them but then Sean and Billy had found out that Johnny Depp had been there a couple of months before them and, apart from nearly causing one young woman to crash her car (from seeing Johnny Depp bending over at the side of the road), he had also gone more or less unremarked. Billy had tried to persuade Sean to loiter on the side of the road but Sean had refused on the grounds that he wasn't in the market for causing traffic accidents and he wasn't that much of a berk.

The slightly sceptical look Billy had given him had made tripping him into a ditch completely justified although Billy could be frighteningly erudite when it came to swearwords and Gaelic when spoken by an annoyed Glaswegian, could be a surprisingly vicious language.

If Sean was perfectly honest with himself, he was thoroughly enjoying spending time with Billy away from all the others.

It wasn't anything weird or subtextual or anything, Sean decided, it was just that Billy was generally part of a set of four or was joined at the hip with Dom, and Billy on his own out of his natural environment, away from Dom and Elijah and Astin, was a very different person. Still funny, of course, still bright and cheerful and quizzical but... different. More adult, perhaps.

Sean loved and adored the hobbits but quite liked being on the other side of the Atlantic to them - for one thing, they made him feel old, all that boundless bouncing hyper-active enthusiasm. Spending time with Dom and Elijah was sometimes like being attacked by a couple of well-meaning but overexcited puppies. Billy alone, on the other hand, was surprisingly close to being a contempory and Sean was beyond surprised at how much he was looking forward to seeing Billy, to talking to Billy, to listening to Billy talk.

It was like. It was like looking at something you thought you knew really well, a painting, say, or a favourite film, and suddenly realising, after years of looking at this thing, that there are colours and depths and characters and plot lines to it that you never saw before, never imagined.

It was disconcerting and kept distracting Sean at times when he should have been concentrating on other things, like remembering how to act, for a start.

"So there's Bean," Billy was saying, voice blurred with drink and practically incoherent to anyone who hadn't spent some considerable amount of time being forced to translate from Glaswegian to English because the only other token northerner was busy drinking the elf under the table, "and he's scairt of helicopters, right? And so Orlando says he'll go wid 'im in the car."

The stuntman was giving Sean a Look which suggested that he'd understood at least some of what Billy was saying.

"Not scared," Sean felt compelled to point out. "They're very unreliable."

Billy (leaning over him, his head level with Sean's chest) looked up at him all big disbelieving eyes. "Scairt!" Billy insisted. "Anyway," he resumed his story after glaring (trying to glare, he couldn't seem to co-ordinate his eyelids correctly) "there's this big fuck off rainstorm and there's this, this, yeah, fuck off landslide so they come back but there's another one so they end up bein' rescued by a fuckin' helicopter and next day, Bloom's got these amazing bruises..."

"'Nother drink, Billy?" Sean interrupted, shifting a little to disrupt Billy's story.

Billy blinked at him very slowly. "Yeah, thanks mate," he said, slurring over the sibilants.

Sean waited patiently for Billy to realise that he had to move in order to let Sean out and when this realisation failed to make an appearance, he shuffled over, trying to encourage Billy to move. Instead, he ended up pressed against Billy's side with Billy blinking at him again, pupils widely dilated, mouth open and wet with whiskey, face flushed and hair both damp and unruly after some horseplay with a bottle of water earlier in the evening.


It was just Billy. Of course. But.

Shit, thought Sean, I don't need to be going there again. Not now. Not with a cast mate. Not with a mate full stop. Jesus, I'm in so much fucking trouble.

"Billy. You gotta let me out, mate," he said urgently - a whole new tenor to the urgency now that his dick had gotten in on the act as well and was fiercely demanding that he drag Billy off somewhere and molest him.

Sean reminded his body exactly who was in charge.

This lasted all of two minutes until his body, with some help from Billy's hand on his thigh, committed a coup.

"Bar. Now," Sean yelped and shoved his way past the World's Biggest Stuntman in something of a hurry.

Behind him, he could hear Billy's distinctive voice raised up just enough to catch the last words.

"... fucking lost his mind."

Got that right, Sean thought grimly.


The queue at the bar was long and the man in front of Sean had the most complicated drinks order he'd had ever heard and Sean was able to recover somewhat. He was still very, very glad that he had decided to wear his new, very tight, very, ah, constricting jeans. A couple of hours ago and he'd been worried about cutting his blood supply off - now, he's positively thanking the gods above. Or at least the ghost of Levi Strauss.

Sean was wondering if he'd absently-mindedly left his brain at the airport when he arrived on the island because he certainly wasn't behaving the way he usually did. This was another worrying development aside from any strange and oddly comfortable sexual thoughts about Billy.

Stop!, Sean ordered his libido, since when did I have sexual thoughts about Billy?

A slide-show of images like a badly put together montage, too many to mention but all of Billy and all inexplicably sexual in nature. It wasn't that the images themselves were particularly sexual but Sean's response to them was. Overwhelmingly.


He might have a small problem here. Like there might be a small negligible possibility that he might have a, um, predilection for Billy. That he might sort of maybe want him. Possibly. With many, many disclaimers.

The next problem was what to do about said problem and Sean was ruefully aware that he wasn't twenty-five anymore (and actually bloody pleased about that because he'd been a walking hormone bomb at the time and he was happy not to have to return to that... except for the part where he might possibly maybe have gone back to that and hobbitcide wasn't really a crime, was it? Sean was beginning to think that he'd played too many Hollywood villains, as the first option his brain usually threw up was to kill people, sometimes including labelled diagrams) and he didn't have the sheer nerve to just pin Billy against a handy wall and find out if old, unromantic, boring, old, three-failed-marriages-and-a-bunch-of-disasterous-relationships-behind-him, workaholic, old, tired, from-the-wrong-side-of-Sheffield, old, forty-something men might do it for him.

Oh, but.

He and Dominic are as thick as fucking thieves, and that bloody Bloom, thought Sean, furiously, not to mention sodding Elijah... and here he had to stop because his love for Elijah was deep and occasionally embarrassing and he'd sort of possibly maybe mentally adopted him, despite the fact that the kid bloody starred as a West Ham supporter which was just wrong.

He knew Billy was bi which was a plus and he knew Billy was single which was another plus but he also knew that Billy was planning to fly out to visit Dom in Hawaii once shooting wrapped which was a minus and the fact that Billy had never, ever shown any interest in Sean's old, wrinkly, old self. Which was a fairly major minus. So to speak.

Maybe he could just sort of introduce the topic gently, subtle-like.

"Hey, Billy, have you heard from Dom lately, and by the way, are you two fucking like rabbits because I'd quite like to have a go myself."


Perhaps not.

"Billy, you're one of my best mates and there's a lot I like about you and I'd really like to go into it in detail so would you mind taking all your clothes off?"

Yes, and for my next trick, I'll be cutting myself in half. No.

"Billy, how long have we been friends? Five years? And never once in that time have you even tried it on with me. Are you bi or just vaguely confused?"

Sean rather suspected he'd be looking for his teeth if he tried that one.

"Billy, we've been friends for a long time now, and I think I should tell you something about myself that I should have probably told you a long time ago. I'm bi. As in, I like men as well as women. I know I should have told you before, I should have told a lot of people but I'm not as brave as you. And I've made so many mistakes just with women that going after men as well was just leaving myself open to, well, you know. But if there's one thing I've learnt it's that you have to be honest with yourself. So I am being. Honest, I mean. And Billy? I'd really like to take you out sometime. Just a drink or something. Just to see."

Sean took a deep breath and abruptly expelled it when the barman asked him for his order.

Weaving in and out of the crowds with a tray of drinks helped to bring a little clarity to Sean's mind. He also got lager down his arm but it was the World's Biggest Stuntman's Fosters so he wasn't all that bothered.

Unfortunately, the World's Biggest Stuntman had buggered off, leaving the table apparently unoccupied when Sean got back to it, except that careful examination showed Billy lying down on the bench seat, his knees hooked over one end.

"You alright?" Sean asked, deciding to withhold Billy's (fucking expensive) whiskey.

"The sky is full of stars," Billy informed him.

"Er. Yeah, mate."

"No," Billy hauled himself up to rest on one arm and blinked sleepily at Sean. "Look," he insisted, pointing upwards.

Despite his better judgement, Sean did and discovered painted stars on the ceiling. "Oh."

"Yeah," Billy agreed. "Pretty."

Sean manages to completely miss the sneaky Scot from stealing the whiskey from behind his elbow and lunges forward to try and snatch it out of his hand before it reaches that swollen mouth. "Oh, no. Not a good idea, mate, you're fucking sloshed."

"Shloshed," Billy agreed in his best Sean Connery impression (not as good as Dom's) and pushed one hand against Sean's outstretched fingers and downed the whiskey.

"Fuck! Billy, no, fuck crap shit. Oh, you're going to regret that," Sean prophesised.

"'M not," Billy retorted.

He frowned. "You," he said clearly but then seemed to have trouble finding the end of the sentence. Sean watched, amused. "You."

"Me," Sean agreed and took a long drink of his pint.

"Ah always fancied yer," Billy confided bluntly.

Sean felt as though the bottom had dropped out of the world and no one had bothered to throw him a rope. Fuck Orlando and his bloody extreme sports metaphors.

"You what?" He asked, dry-mouthed.

"Want to give you a, a, a... suck you an," Billy gestured vaguely with the whiskey.

Sean was wondering if he'd somehow missed the memo about slipping into an alternate universe.

"Fuck me, yeah, go on. Saw you lookin," Billy said disarmingly.

Sean swallowed. Hard. His palms were sweaty, his fingers shaking and he was possibly more aroused than he ever had been in his entire life because if anyone had told him two hours ago that he'd be listening to a sozzled Scotsman telling him (in that low and musical voice) the stuff of his own fantasies, like Billy'd been given a direct line to the inner workings of his head, well, he couldn't have believed them. Not in a million bloody years, he'd have said and possibly decked the speaker for suggesting that he might be interested in Billy fucking Boyd. Or, indeed, fucking Billy Boyd.

Billy's eyes crossed very slowly.

Sean watched with a kind of morbid fascination as the blood slowly drained from Billy's face, leaving him a whiter shade of pale and slightly greenish.

Green was a fucking good colour on Billy but not as a skin tone.

"Bill, mate, are you okay?" Sean asked with the air of someone picking a scab.

"Mmrgh. Sean," Billy said.

"Right here," Sean leaned forward. "Want some water? Fresh air?"

Billy shook his head very slightly. "Sean," he said with some urgency.

"What?" Sean asked, worried and moved around to crouch down next to Billy.

This proved to be a mistake of Biblical proportions as Billy's eyes crossed again and he threw up.


All over Sean.

"Fucking hell," Sean said, not quite believing what had just happened but the vomit streaming down his (expensive) shirt being a convincing argument. He'd never see Billy throw up before (mainly because when they all got together, usually Elijah or Orlando were the ones chucking up) and it was actually sort of impressive. One abstract part of his brain wanted to award points for viscosity and distance. The rest of him was fairly horrified to find himself covered in vile smelling, slightly steaming vomit.

"Sorry," Billy whispered, and threw up again.

"Is this not my night or what?" Sean complained to the world at large.



Billy only woke up because there were daggers stabbing his eyes. Needles of bright, hot, cheerful sunshine that was screaming Hey! Look at us! We're beams of sunshine here to make your life miserable, you drunkard. He could feel the sunshine daggers trying to hammer (hammer? Daggers can hammer? Shut the fuck up Billy, you're too fucking hungover not to be mixing your metaphors) their way through the thin, blood stained inside of his eyelids. Blessed eyelids. Billy was feeling very protective towards them and raised one hand to help his eyelids and shield his face from the sunshine.

He was almost immediately assailed by a pair of foreign hands which flailed at his face. Billy jerked back, mistake, mistake, oh dear god the pain, the pain, a thousand lashes going on inside my head, groaned and fell off the bed.

He didn't move for a while.

The yawning, tingling pain running down his forearms told him that the hands which had so viciously attacked him were in fact, his own gone numb from having been slept on. It started out as pins-and-needles and rapidly progressed into the kind of pain that if Billy were not a great manly man, might have made him cry. Just a little bit. It was comparable to Astin stepping on that bit of glass or being kicked in the nuts (still far worse than a splinter though). But Billy was a manly man and didn't burst into tears over every little thing (although he reserved his manly right to cry if someone did, in fact, kick him in the nuts).

Oh, but he fucking hated hangovers. And he loathed hangovers on days when he had no option but to get up and face the day and pretend to be an experienced (and highly talented) actor.

Improbably, his hair ached.

Without opening his eyes, he crawled back up onto the bed again, reuniting his head with the sublimely cool pillow and dragging the covers back over himself... His naked self? Oo-kay.

"Ah always fancied yer,"

Oh bugger fuck crap bollucks arse wank shit he did not tell Sean fucking-hard-as-nails Bean that he fancied the pants off him, did he?

He could not be that fucking stupid, could he?

"Want to give you a, a, a... suck you an,"

Oh god. Oh god. Ohgodohgodohgodohgodohgodohgodohgodohgodohgodohgod.

"Fuck me, yeah, go on. Saw you lookin,"

Fuck bugger crap wank shit bollucks arse. Repeat ad infinitum.

Billy blindly reached out for the bedside table and his mobile and flicked it open, hitting speed dial more or less by accident.

"It's the MIDDLE OF THE FUCKING NIGHT, BOYD. THIS HAD BETTER BE GOOD." Dom sounded rather less than happy to be woken up.

Billy whimpered. "Quiet," he whispered. "Please. Hangover."

"You woke me up to tell me you've got a hangover?" asked Dom. "Well, I only had four hours sleep. Life is bad. I'll talk to you later."

"I might have asked Bean to fuck me."

There was a clatter like someone had dropped their phone over the side of the bed and was having to scrabble for it. Billy rested the phone on the pillow next to him and dimly heard Dom's cursing and someone else's (vaguely familiar) voice in the background.

"Was that a joke?" Dom asked, sounding somewhat out of breath.

"No," Billy whispered miserably.

"Fucking hell, Bills," Dom said, impressed. "Might have? Can't you remember? What did he do?"

"My brain's gone," Billy confessed, "and I don't know if I really did say it or if I just, you know, imagined it. But I think I might have, oh god, thrown up on him."

"Well, that wouldn't be the first time," Dom noted.

Billy whimpered. He couldn't cope with this much mortification this early in the morning... Well, that was a lie, he just hadn't had to cope with this much mortification since New Zealand... Fuck.

"Oh, get the fuck over it, Bills," Dom said impatiently. "No way can you be as bad as Lijah so get over yourself already."

"You're a pure lot of good," Billy snapped. "I may have trashed a good friendship - not to mention my reputation - and all you can say is 'get over it'?"

There was a deep sigh. "I actually meant the chucking up."

Billy deflated. "Alright. Yeah."

"We didn't call him Mister Projectile Vomiting for nothing."

"It was fairly impressive," Billy conceded, a reluctant smile hovering around his mouth as he remembered Elijah's startling capacity for vomiting. Orlando didn't find it so funny, he remembered but then Billy'd long suspected that Elijah's drunken aim was more than a little malicious. "What am I going to do?"

Another sigh. "Want me to fly out?"

"What can you do?" Billy turned his face to the coolness of the pillow. "Really? I appreciate the gesture but..."

"I could tell him it was all part of a very long running joke and that Vig's next on the list," Dom suggested.

"He'd want to be involved."

"So? At the worst, we have to get Lij to throw up on Vig. I'm sure I've still got some of that Gold Strike that Andy gave me left."

"Please don't mention alcohol," Billy begged. "I just. I'm drowning out here and it's getting harder every day."

There was a pause. "I wish you wouldn't say stuff like that just after telling me not to fly out."

"I'm fine," Billy insisted, backtracking. "I just got drunk and made an eejit of myself. Not the first time and probably not the last. Bet he doesn't even remember it."

"Besides," Dom sounded a little reassured, "'snot like it was a stranger or anything. It's Bean. One of the family. You'll be fine."

One of the family. Sodding brilliant. "Thanks, mate. I just. You know. Wanted to share the pain," Billy said.

"You've shared. I've emoted. Can I go back to sleep now?"

Billy grinned despite himself. "Yeah. Listen, I'll call you later, okay?"

A deep sigh. "Good. And Billy?"


"Worse things happen at sea."


Worse things happen at sea. Their stock phrase, lifted from John who used it incessantly to deal with younger (and occasionally older) castmate's moaning. It became something of an in-joke but it never stopped being true.

Still. Billy was well aware that in the great scheme of things, this little tiny, pilfering, insignificant crush-type-true-love-thing he had going on for Sean was really... unimportant when considered alongside things like train crashes and wars and super bugs and hate crimes and honour killings and child abuse and the like.

Apparently, it didn't stop him worrying and being upset about it though.


Put things in perspective, my arse thought Billy. Up yours Sir My-love-life-is-stable-for-the-first-time-in-my-entire-life McKellan.

It's my crush and I'll obsess if I want to.

So there.


I wonder how I ended up naked...



For the first time, Sean could honestly understand why Orlando and Dominic had made such a fuss about avoiding each other for a week after an infamous groping session. It was just so fucking embarrassing having to see the person you'd had semi-serious carnal knowledge of.

Of course, Sean's embarrassment wasn't really on the same scale as Billy's and Sean was feeling very sympathetic and wanted to talk to Billy (who had turned up on set looking vaguely normal if a bit tired and hungover and who had almost immediately gone a funny shade of grey when he'd spotted Sean and had disappeared into the canteen) and maybe hug him just to let Billy know that everything was alright and Sean didn't mind Billy telling him all that stuff and he didn't really mind about the shirt but Billy was definitely going to be paying for it to be dry cleaned.

Unfortunately, Billy seemed determined to utilise hundreds of years of specialised Scottish genetics and managed to successful evade him until Sean tracked him into the empty makeup trailer just before they went home.

"Feeling better?" Sean asked. Billy seemed to have recovered his usual colour - and, considering he went bright red when Sean appeared, even more than his usual colour. He looked bloody good all flushed, Sean decided and then almost immediately wished he hadn't.

"I'm fine," Billy said, half turned away from Sean and fiddling with his bag.

Sean leaned on the door. Or rather, he Leaned. A distinctive, calculated sprawl. "So... are you going to Guys and Dolls tonight then for the karaoke?" Sean asked, king of casual. Except when he wasn't. Like now with his palms sweaty and his heart racing.

Billy shrugged. "I haven't decided."

"What. And deprive the Manx of your singing talents? You should do Dancin' Queen," Sean suggested with a lot of false humour. Billy singing Dancin Queen on Elijah's birthday had been funny but not as memorable as Ian and John's Knowing Me, Knowing You.

"Yeah, well," Billy shrugged again, "I probably should get an early night and all."

Sean deflated. "Oh. Okay, I mean. Yeah. Probably a good idea. Did you feel really bad when you woke up?"

"I've felt better," Billy said lightly. Sean could almost see a flicker of a smile around Billy's mouth and he really wished that Billy would turn around to look at him.

"I bet," Sean said, "you were fucking trashed, my friend."

This time, Billy did smile. "I was at that," he conceded.

There was a pause - just long enough to be uncomfortable.

"So... I might see you later, yeah?" Sean said, unleaning against the door.

"Yeah," Billy said, non-comittantly.



Sean turned to go.

"Wait! Sean. I mean." Sean turned back to look at Billy who was still pale but there was a determined set to his jaw. "I've got to ask this, right? Because if I don't," he shut his eyes briefly. Sean started to panic. "Why was I naked when I woke up?"

The deep breath that Sean had been holding in was suddenly expelled through gritted teeth. "Oh," he said.

Billy looked bleak. "Sorry, I just. Sorry," he repeated. "I know you're not, not. Yeah. I just," he raised his hands helplessly, "naked," he said.

Sean took a step forward, alarmed at the look on Billy's face. "No, no. You just threw up all over yourself," he said hastily, "and me, as well. So I just stripped you off and dumped you in bed. That's it. Just didn't think you'd want to wake up covered in sick, to be honest. Thought it might make you chuck up in the morning as well."

Billy sagged. "Oh. Right. Thanks," he said, almost managing a smile.

"So we're okay?" Sean asked.

Billy nodded. "Oh. Yeah. Hey... Sean?"

"Yup?" Sean was determined to actually get out of the door before something happened that made him embarrassed. So far he was doing okay but he suspected that the yawning maw of humiliation was just coming right up.

"I didn't, you know, say anything, did I? Nothing too bad, I mean. I just. I sort of have this memory but I can't. I don't know if it's real." Billy asked, looking like he had taken his courage in both hands in order to ask.

Sean debated with himself. He could of course repeat to Billy what Billy had said to him but what, apart from possibly shocking Billy into cardiac arrest, would it actually accomplish? He was actually, for once in his life, ahead of the game. He knew that Billy liked him, Billy wanted him, Billy wanted to do things to him and have things done back and if he played his cards right for once instead of fucking it all up as usual, he might actually get what he wanted.

Of course, what he wanted right now was Billy Boyd, spread out on a bed behind a locked door and plenty of lubricant.

"Nah," Sean lied, "nothing bad. Just your usual incoherent Scottish drivel," he said.

Billy's face cleared and the lines of worry which had been etched into his face all day were magically smoothed away. "Oh. That's. Yeah, that's really good. Yeah. So, I'll see you later?"

Sean grinned. "Yeah, see you later."


There was something up with Sean.

There was definitely something up with Sean.

Billy looked at him sidelong while having a cautious sip of his (second, and they'd been here more than an hour and a half) pint of mild.

And there again!

Sean. Looking at him. Looking at him and not looking away, the bastard, because being caught looking always made Billy flush, and when he went red he immediately looked guilty.

Not just looking at him, either. This was looking at him and smiling. Smiling and letting his warm eyes move over Billy's body and who the fuck did Sean think he was, looking at Billy like that?

Well, clearly he was under the impression he was Sean Bean, God's gift to Sheffield. Which actually wasn't saying all that much. Billy had been to Sheffield on many occasions and while some of it was quite nice, most of it really wasn't. At least it wasn't as bad as Milton Keynes, Billy reflected. Now there was a disastrous looking city.

And his inner monologue seemed to have wandered off the point which was the fact that he was jammed up against a surprisingly sober Sean Bean who kept Looking at him. Looking and Smiling and in other circumstances (i.e. one where either Billy was a tall, statuesque blond with big tits or Sean was, well, somebody else), this might, might have been considered flirting.

Help, Billy thought, somewhat hysterically, Sean Bean's flirting with me.


Me. Help me.

"Bill, mate, are you okay?"

Billy choked. "I'm fine," he said, waving away offers of assistance and mopping himself up with a napkin and a couple of beer mats. Smooth move, William, he said to himself. Really sodding smooth.

Sean raised an eyebrow and made a little, unconvinced sound which should have had no effect on Billy whatsoever except that this was Sean Bean and (at least as far as Billy and a good proportion of the female population of the western hemisphere was concerned) he was a walking, talking wet dream and that little kind of grunt was really more like a liquid purr; the kind of noise, in fact, that people who were not Billy made when someone hurt them oh so good. Like when someone bit other people who were also not Billy and it hurt, but it was so fucking sexy and the first people who weren't Billy couldn't help making this little growl, a low rumble which was half complaint and half come on. It was that noise that Sean made when he looked at Billy drowning in his drink.

Help... or, not help.

"Bill? Are you sure you're alright? You look hot."

"Thank you," Billy said absently before his brain caught up with his ears and he realised that Sean was in fact referring to personal bodily temperature and not actually making a comment on Billy's questionable attractiveness. "Er, I mean... Oh bugger," Billy added with feeling as Sean started to laugh.

"Mr. Billy Boyd is up next, ladies and gents, Mr. Billy Boyd," the DJ announced, finally having convinced a group of teenage girls that no one wanted to hear a choral version of Cry Me A River.

"Gotta go," Billy said and bolted.

The club... bar... thingy was crowded and didn't have brilliant lighting and the carpet was a bit sticky and all in all, it was like every tacky club that Billy had ever been to. Which was more than he liked to admit, on most days.

Still, there was the same old frisson of electricity running up and down his spine as he got on stage and the first familiar chords blasted through the speakers.

"I can't sleep tonight. Everybody's saying everything is alright. Still I can't close my eyes. I'm seeing a tunnel at the end of all these lights."

Billy didn't approve of playing up to stereotypes but he did a bloody good version of Why Does It Always Rain On Me. Anyway, it was a bit wistful and a bit oh my god, the world's completely out of my control, why did nobody tell me which was pretty much how he was feeling.

Billy had the distinct feeling that the world had moved on and left him a page behind. He could see Sean from the stage; he'd moved forward and was leaning against on of the pillars watching Billy. It was increasingly difficult to remember the words (fortunate, then, that they were scrolling past his inattentive eyes on the screen which was showing Fran Healy jumping off cliffs in his kilt) and, actually, to do things like breathe and think.

Why the fucking hell was Sean watching so sodding closely, anyway? He hadn't forgotten to get dressed or do his fly up had he? A moment's careful and surreptitious checking (not the easiest thing when you're up on a stage in front of about fifty or sixty drunk people) proved that he wasn't flying low so what was it? Just what on earth was prompting that... that speculative look.

"Ah always fancied yer," and Sean's face - stunned, shocked and fucking hungry.

Oh no.

Oh Jesus no.

Oh... oh shite.

It was funny how the human brain protected itself from serious harm. While part of Billy's brain was having hysterics on a scale which roughly equated with the End of Life As We Know It, the other part of him was belting out Travis's most memorable hit almost mechanically. Every note perfect, every word bright and clear.

Billy was a professional and he'd never been gladder of it.

Unfortunately, he was reaching the end of the song and he could see Sean moving around to the side of the stage to intercept him. This was not good. On the other hand, this could be very good.

Of course, this was always supposing that Billy's drunken memory was at all accurate which sadly, he didn't exactly have the world's greatest reputation for.

"... And why is it raining so? It's so cold. Why does it always rain on me? Why does it always rain on..." a beautiful trailed off note and Billy was reluctantly hooking the microphone back onto the stand and bowing to the crowd and heading into the secluded darkness and Sean.

Because he couldn't see Sean didn't mean that Sean wasn't there.

Waiting for him.

Oh Jesus this wasn't really happening was it? Billy must have got the wrong end of the stick somewhere because these things don't happen to Billy. They happened to other people but not Billy. Billy never got the frightening, mind-blowing stuff happening to him. Ever. Ever ever ever.

Ohgodohgodohgod what if he'd completely misread everything, all the flirting and the remembering and everything and Sean was just going to clap him on the back and offer to buy him another drink? Billy thought he actually might die of humiliation if that happened. Not to mention, well, disappointment. Because Billy wanted Sean. Had done for ages in fact. Because he was Sean Bean, all lovely muscles and warm eyes and... yeah, okay, moving on. But also because he was Sean; a good mate, the best, a man who cared about his friends and his family and tried so fucking hard to do the right thing even when it hurt him. A good man.

Billy was in so much trouble.

Crush? Billy mocked himself, this is just a crush? Riiight.

"Aright?" Sean asked abruptly, materialising out of the shadows and shocking Billy back into the here-and-now.

"Fucking Christ on a stick," Billy said, putting a hand over his racing heart. "Don't fucking do that. Jesus."

"Sorry," said Sean, sounding anything but. "Hey, you were really good."

"Thanks," Billy said, wishing it wasn't too dark to gauge Sean's expression for signs of flirting. His voice sounded very warm and, er, intimate so that was a good thing, right?

"You're welcome," and now it definitely sounded like Sean was smirking. And his voice was all deep and slightly roughened and it was a bit worrying that Sean's voice was enough to get Billy hard, wasn't it? Even if he had been on the edge all day thanks to Sean being, well, Sean.

Billy yelped when Sean caught his arm. "What...?" Billy started as Sean towed him away from the stage. "Where are we going? My pint's back there," Billy protested, trying half-heartedly to pull away from Sean's grip on his arm.

A flash of teeth; Sean wasn't taken in by Billy's token protest. They both knew Billy could have got away if he'd really wanted to.

"We're going back to the hotel," Sean said finally.

"Oh," said Billy, apparently trapped in the Twilight Zone. "Okay then."


The less said about the taxi ride the better. Billy and Sean kept to their sides of the cab and didn't make eye contact or even talk. Sean was doing his impression of a statue carved by primitive man to appease ancient gods and Billy had given up trying to work out what on earth was going on. He just hoped that someone clued him in.

Maybe there was a manual.

One thing Billy was fairly certain about; Sean maybe sort of perhaps wanted him. Or, at least, he did when they got out of the club and Billy had seen Sean's face properly for the first time that evening. His eyes had been wide and the pupils dilated and the way he was looking at Billy's body and sort of unconsciously licking his lips had suggested to Billy's body that they might want to get to know each other a little better. Clearly Billy's brain had been left out of the decision which was not necessarily a bad thing.

Still, there were all these tiny little signals going between the two of them even in the cab, all these tiny little signals which were Sean's body saying to Billy's body 'well, how about it then?' and Billy's body saying to Sean's body 'what the hell took you so long, I've been trying to get your attention for months, you stupid bastard'.

The hotel was quiet and dim even though it was only about half past midnight and their breathing sounded harsh and rough and unsteady in the utter stillness. Sean led the way, unspeaking, to his hotel room and pulled out his key card and gestured for Billy to precede him in.

Billy did so, wondering what on earth happened next. He hovered, not wanting to go through to the bedroom that he could see through the open door in case it got misinterpreted (although exactly what could get misinterpreted at this stage would be difficult identify) or on the chair by the desk or on the nice sofa. So he hovered somewhere between the living area and the tiny bar.

Sean quietly closed the door behind him and locked it.

"Billy," he said.

Billy turned, pretending he hadn't been watching Sean's reflection in the full length mirror on the wall. "Yeah?" He said, but it was all he said because suddenly Sean was there and kissing him.

Kissing and more kissing and the slip-slide of mouth clinging and tongues stroking and lips pursing and grasping and the serious amount of licking that was going on and Billy was very, very afraid that he wasn't a very good kisser because he'd, well, he'd never kissed Sean before and although Billy was fairly confident about his kissing abilities when it came to random girls and boys and Dom, it was a whole 'nother thing when it came to Sean.

Because this was Sean Bean. Sharpe. That evil James Bond MI5 agent who out-cooled Pierce Brosan (not that that was hard, should've gone for a Scottish Bond, none of this Irish crap and Billy wouldn't boycott the series like Dom if they did cast Colin Farrell as the next Bond, but he'd be having some serious conversations down the pub about it and no mistake). It occurred to Billy that thinking about James Bond while being snogged to within an inch of his life (and rather beyond that as far as his happily expiring libido was concerned) was just another example of why he shouldn't be let near people and why, in all honesty, he should just let Sean down easy before Sean made the fatal mistake of trusting him to behave like any normal and sane person.

Billy was as sane as the next person. Unfortunately, in Billy's experience, the next person tended to be either a random drunk Glaswegian or Dominic Monaghan. Neither were particularly good benchmarks for sane behaviour.

Sean had stopped kissing him.

This was bad.

This was especially bad considering they were here, in this nice hotel room and there was a bed and Billy was fairly certain he'd got some condoms (not that he was planning on using them of course but it was always better to be safe than sorry and all of those talks Astin gave to Elijah had clearly seeped into Billy's stuck-in-safe-mode brain) and possibly even some lube because if there was one thing Billy knew, it was what men wore under their kilts.

Or not wore, as the case may be.

Of course, neither condoms not lube had been bought with Sean in mind.

Or not consciously, anyway.

"Can't you ever, ever turn your brain off?" Sean asked, looking down at him with this kind of, mmm, lurky amused smooth smile around his mouth and one hand stroking the back of Billy's head.

"Um, no," Billy admitted, distracted by the pulse of the vein in Sean's neck. Funny, but he'd never got the whole 'vampire' thing before now...

"There must be something," Sean insisted, drawing Billy just. a. little. bit. closer and it was funny but Billy had never appreciated all those muscles, all that taut toned skin before he got up close and personal with it. And hey. Sean was the 'older man' which meant he probably had lots of exciting experience and now Billy was suffering from premature performance anxiety.

Billy suspected he might be a bit, just a teeny, tiny bit, neurotic.

Orlando called him 'Bridget' but really, that wasn't funny anymore.

Stupid elf.

Sean waved a hand in front of his face. "I'm really starting to wonder about you," Sean said, "I'm beginning to think that you're only so good on set because that's the only time you ever focus on anything."

"Wow, that's a really... backhanded compliment. I think. Cheers," Billy said. The performance anxiety had now taken on a life of its own and it wasn't being helped by the fact that Sean was gently, subtly, edging him towards the bedroom and the vast reality of the bed.

"Look," Sean said, pressing a little on Billy's shoulder to get him to sit down on the bed. Billy's heart did this huge enormous incredible painful leap in his chest as he did so. "We need to talk. Before we do anything else." Sean looked very, very serious and Billy starting to panic. Only small scale panic - this was only about two on the Richter scale of panic - enough to send residents into their doorways and basements but not quite enough to warrant a full evacuation.

"Yeah?" Billy said, swallowing and trying to remind himself that he wasn't allowed adolescent reactions anymore and he was thirty-six sodding years old and he was supposed to be a grown up now. He would just gloss over the fact that he didn't feel any older than eighteen on a good day.

Sean sat down beside him. Not touching. Oh. Bad.

"Have you been with anyone recently?" Sean asked, all gruff, embarrassed man-of-Sheffield.

Billy blinked. "Oh. Er. Only Ali and we always used condoms," Billy said, his sense of the ridiculous bubbling up inside him at the sheer surreal value of having a Safe Sex talk with Sean Bean.

Sean, despite the fact that he was now bright red and tangling his fingers between his hands, ploughed on with stoicism. "Have you, have you been checked out recently?"

"Thought that's what you'd been doing," Billy quipped and then almost immediately wished he hadn't as Sean's expression went from embarrassed to why the fuck am I bothering with this sodding idiot. "I mean, yeah. Few weeks ago."

Sean swallowed. Billy (slightly maliciously) wished he'd had the foresight to bring along a video camera because he was fairly sure that he was going to find this screamingly funny in a couple of days - once the mind-numbing embarrassment had worn off, of course. "Right. Good. Me too." Sean said, scrubbing a hand through his hair. "I mean, I'm clear. And... and it's important to get checked out regularly. Not just once a year or anything. 'Specially not if you're, you know, with men and all. And to always use condoms even if you know the guy really well. You've got to be safe because you just don't know, these days, yeah?"

"Yeah," said Billy, just a little confused by the Safe Sex talk. "And it's good, that you're clear, I mean. Because. It was not be good. If you weren't," Billy said wishing he could stop rambling and wondering desperately what he was supposed to do next, whether he was supposed to just sort of jump on Sean and hope for the best (and really, Sean was such a big bloke that Billy just sort of wanted to knock him flat and then channel his inner explorer. There was just so much of Sean to discover. Mmm.

"Right, so..." Sean's voice trailed off and he looked at Billy.

"Right," said Billy, and pounced.



Billy was all over him and kissing him hotly and demanding and Sean was gasping and trying to get a hold on him long enough to help with the undressing which was going on but Billy was out of his clothes so fast that Sean didn't get a chance to help. Billy flung his (actually quite nice blue-striped) shirt somewhere over Sean's head and very nearly did Sean an injury which would have put a serious cramp (or at the very least, delay) on the evening's entertainment when he pulled his jeans off. As it was, they were sailing past Sean's nose, the sharp zip perilously close to Sean's eyes.

Billy hadn't bothered with underwear.

"You fucking bastard," Sean murmured appreciatively and reached out, running his hand over Billy's toned stomach and slowly down down down the pale auburn treasure trail. He was trying to be all careful and seductive and building up tension and stuff but Billy was clearly having none of that and tugged Sean's hand over his erection.

Sean exhaled in one long, low, barely audible whistle as he felt, beneath his hands, leaping flesh which was similar but somehow not. Different texture to the skin, different size and girth. Just... different. But not bad. Not at all.

"The light, the fucking light," Billy hissed, hand flailing towards the light switch, tangled up with Sean.

Sean slid his mouth over Billy's again, licked at him, tasted him, moved in and got right down to business and hit out at the wall until he hit something that resembled a light switch. They were plunged not quite into darkness but into its nearest cousin, perhaps. There was static orange light filtering through the fine curtains and patterned on the pale carpet, the disarrayed bed and Billy's pale body as he pulled Sean down on the bed and tore at Sean's t-shirt.

"Have you, god keep doing that, have you got anything?" Billy asked, body curling around the apparently wonderful things that Sean's hand was doing to his dick. Sean was pretty much walking on air. Here was Billy, gorgeous sexy Billy coming all unravelled over things that Sean was doing to him. Sean suspected that his ego was going to be unbearable for a while.

Hell, if he got to do this with Billy again, he was planning on being unbearable for as long as he could get away with it.

They kissed, hard, fast. "You mean condoms?" Sean asked, biting at Billy's jaw and pretending he wasn't getting a cramp in his wrist. Funny how that never happened when he was doing things to himself. But then it was about a thousand times sexier to do things to Billy, to press against the base of the head and squeeze just a little and go faster and go slower and do all of those things if they were going to make Billy writhe and strain and squirm and sweat and bite his lip.

"Condoms, lube, don't you always carry 'em?" Billy asked breathlessly.

Sean altered his grip, eliciting a startled cry from Billy. "Never was much of a boy scout," Sean owned.

"Fuck, fuck, fuck," Billy chanted. "Fucking kidding me, right?"

Sean removed both of his hands to fumble in the bedside drawer. "Kidding? Yeah. Be prepared, that's my motto," he said as he pulled a box of condoms and a tube of lube out of the drawer.

"Oh," Billy said, leaning up to kiss Sean's mouth and his throat. "So you were a boy scout, then."

Sean pushed him down onto the pillows, admiring him, flushed cheeks, bite marks on his throat and chest, pebbled nipples, stretching and twisting on the bed like he couldn't keep still, like he couldn't get easy in his skin.

"Not a boy scout," Sean reiterated, trying not to betray his cool exterior as he surreptitiously read the instructions on the lube. "Just always like to be ready for anything," he added, opening the tube and carefully squirting the cold gel onto his fingers.

He looked up. Billy was watching avidly. He gave Sean a big and slightly manic grin and put his head back on the pillow, still grinning and breathing deeply, canting his legs apart.

Sean paused because. Good God. He was supposed to be doing something when just looking at Billy was making him near enough cream his jeans?

He was frozen long enough that eventually Billy noticed.

"... the fuck are you doing down there?" Billy demanded, lifting his head and craning to see.

"Do you mind?" Sean asked acidly.

"Do you need a map or something? Jaysus fucking Christ," Billy complained. "Sure there's a bookshop you can pick up a copy of the Joy of Gay Sex or Gray's Anatomy if yer havin' trouble locating my fucking arse."

Sean grit his teeth, trying not to thump the annoying little shit and slid one carefully lubed up finger down the crack of Billy's arse and just. pressing. in. with the tip of his finger.

"Haven't got all day, you know," Billy informed him. "Will you just fuckin' get on wid it? I'm not a child or something breakable. This isn't my first time, I'm not going to start crying over your mighty cock or anything - although I might if you don't fucking get on with it."

Sean glared at him. "The mood is completely gone, Boyd," he said irritably.

"The mood? There was a mood? Because when you fucking dragged me in here, complained about my slight tendency to get distracted, gave me a lecture on being a Responsible Adult and then failed to take your clothes off, well any mood didn't just fucking leave the building, it left the fucking island, mate."

Sean sat back on his heels and put the unlubed hand over his eyes. "Oh, my fucking god," he moaned. "I don't think I can do this."

He was aware of Billy moving and was unsurprised when a hand pried his palm away from his eyes. Billy was about two inches away and glaring at him. If looks could kill, that one had Sean being given an autopsy by medical students intent on playing 'find the scalpel'.

"What did you say?" Billy asked, dangerously calm.

"It's a disaster," Sean said. "Look. No sex, just arguing. Face it. We're completely incompatible. And we're men. There shouldn't even have been any talking - we should have just got straight down to it."

"Well you should have said all you wanted was a one night stand," Billy complained. "Instead of making me think..." he stopped. "Never mind."

Sean frowned. "Making you think...?"

"Never mind," repeated Billy, with some force.

Little dots connected in Sean's brain. "Oh. Do you want to?"

Billy avoided his eyes by pretending to study the hideous floral wallpaper. "Well, do you want to?"

"I'm... old," Sean said, as if confiding a great secret.

Billy raised his eyebrows. "And which of us has the receding hairline?"

"I don't know any popular music."

"Once you work out they're all in it for the money, no one rates pop music. Good music isn't necessarily popular." Billy said with authority.

"That's a nice soapbox you're standing on there," Sean remarked mildly.

Billy narrowed his eyes. "Two words. Cheeky Girls."

Sean shuddered. "Good point."

He could feel the question bubbling up and tried to hold it back but it got through and yea gods he'd never had so much empathy for his daughters before now. Apart from the whole sitting naked on a bed with a Scotsman thing because they bloody better not have been doing anything like that yet. Or ever.

"You and Dom...?"

Billy rolled his eyes. "Why the fucking hell does everyone think me and Dom are shagging?" he demanded of the world in general. "I love him, he's my best mate, but honestly. Sean. Have you met him?"

Sean felt his face crack into what might, under other, less humiliating circumstances, have been a smile. "Yeah."

"He's a fucking liability," Billy said. "Bein' his boyfriend would be like having to go bungee jumping just to get to the corner shop. Me, I don't have any problem walking. One day, he's going to fall in love like a fucking ton of bricks and I am going to laugh. And point. And probably mock," Billy added considering. "But never, under any circumstances, do I want to be that person. I like a quiet life."

"Oh," Sean said, feeling like a bit of an idiot.

"What about you and Orlando?" Billy asked, apparently off-handedly but there was a gleam in his eye.

Sean spluttered and then caught the gleam as it turned into a smile. "That's not funny," Sean said levelly, "you know he and Viggo are devoted to each other," he added straight-faced.

Billy snickered. "Finished having a crisis?" he asked.

Sean shrugged. "I'll probably have another one in the morning," he said. "How about you?"

Billy moved a bit closer. "It's a sort of ongoing thing which I'm ignoring," he said and brushed his lips across Sean's collarbone.

"Jesus," Sean hissed as Billy kissed and licked his way up Sean's neck to his mouth. Sean shivered when Billy used his teeth and Billy did it again and again so that Sean was just sort of continually trembling and it felt like every time a bit of Billy's (smooth, clear, fucking flawless) skin came in contact with his, the fire burning low (and lower) in Sean's gut got hotter and hotter until the inferno was spreading through his chest and vaporising the air in his lungs and stealing the breath and the words out of his mouth so that all he could do was sort of blindly gasp Billy's name and hope to hell that it wasn't going to kill him.

Their mouths met and Sean closed his eyes, concentrating on the smooth, slick way Billy used his tongue to taste and explore every inch of Sean's mouth, how he just slid in and took over. Control, control. It was slipping through Sean's fingers and perhaps it was alright to let it go this time. Perhaps. Billy was in his lap, naked and straddling his fucking lap and tilting his head this way and that with rough, urgent hands that felt like a vice around his skull; a strong but not uncomfortable pressure. Sean ran his hands down Billy's back, counting the vertebrae, pressing the firm muscles in his shoulders, kneading his curved arse and letting Billy ride the motion against Sean's trapped, harder-than-hell, confined in the world's most annoying jeans, dick.

Billy tore his mouth away from Sean's. There was sweat beading on his forehead; he looked wild, untameable and really, quite extraordinary as he pushed his hips down in one rolling movement that made Sean grit his teeth and push Billy down down down onto the bed beneath him. Billy hit the pillows with a thump but almost before Sean could organise his legs (hampered by the fact that his dick was harder than it ever had been) and thrust properly against him, Billy was surging up from the bed, restless hips with an impatient stattaco beat that ratcheted up Sean's heartbeat a few hundred beats per second. Billy was a live wire beneath him, slippery with sweat, burning hot, and Sean had never, never been this turned on. Never.

Billy arched under him and gasped when Sean ran one hand down his thigh, pushing his legs further apart. "How do you want to do this?" Sean asked, voice rough and dark and almost belonging to a stranger. He jerked his hand over Billy's dick, flushed and straining away from him and Billy keened.

It was fucking electric. They were so far gone already and Sean was wondering if he'd waited his whole entire life for this because god it was entirely possible he might die if he didn't get off soon. And he wanted Billy's hands and his mouth Christ that mouth but now, right now, he wanted to be in Billy. He had to be. And maybe that was the lurking Neanderthal in him or maybe Sean was never going to be good at the gay thing, really, but he wanted to fuck Billy. He really wanted to fuck Billy. He'd thought about it, wondered about it, fucking dreamed about it and here was he and Billy, behind doors which were not only closed but also locked, mostly naked on a bed and he wanted it and Billy wanted it. He knew Billy wanted it. Billy looking at him with those eyes and that mouth and that slightly shamed, slightly exultant, very out-of-it expression telling him he wanted Sean to fuck him was something that was going to stay with Sean probably for the rest of his life.

"Billy," Sean groaned, dropping his head to Billy's neck, just breathing but having to kiss and lick and suck and bite, having to set his teeth in deep and hard because the way that Billy arched off the bed against him, against him so hard and so close and so rough and perfect and it was so fucking blindly good that Sean had to do it again and again, fucking maul Billy and bite him and leave marks and scars and taste those muscles, the filigree of his collarbones, flushed pebbled nipples and Sean was pinning Billy's wrists to the bed, resting his weight on holding Billy down and Billy's thighs around his hips was so fucking tight that he thought he might just die. "Billy, how do you want it?"

"Sean," Billy moaned, raking impatient restless hands through Sean's hair, scoring his nails down Sean's back.

"Billy," a kiss on that distracting, tempting mouth and Sean hadn't forgotten that Billy wants to suck him off. Hadn't forgotten at all. "Billy, I want to fuck you."

"Yeah," Billy says, half out of his skull by the look of him, Sean thought and marvelled and craved. "Yeah, fuck me, yeah go on. Want it so bad. Fuck me, come on."

"On, on your back?" Sean asked, breath shallow and panting.

The glazed look in Billy's eyes cleared a little. "Fuck no, I'm not that fucking flexible," he said and sniggered. "What kind of porn have you been watching?"

"Never you mind," Sean said. "Hands and knees?" he suggested, running a hand along Billy's thigh.

"Want to see your face," Billy objected and then rolled his eyes. "Because I am, actually, a woman," he said sarcastically, running his hands over Sean's back and into his criminally tight jeans.

Sean let his hand tug at Billy's flushed, engorged dick, "Don't feel like a woman to me," he said teasingly and then kissed his mouth. "Maybe I want to see your face too. See your face when I put my fingers in you and open you right up and then just slide my dick inside you and you're so tight and close and hot around me and the friction burns and tears at us and you're already so close to the edge that just feeling me in you sends you over the edge."

Billy gaped. "Pretty sodding sure of yourself, aren't you?" He managed.

Sean grinned. "Nope, not at all," he said honestly, utterly disarming. "But I'm pretty sure of you."

"Bastard," Billy said softly, half annoyed and half in admiration. "You utter and complete bastard."

Sean smiled and just. let. his fingers. push. in.

Billy's back arched and Sean felt him pushing back against the unrelenting pressure of two insistent fingers.

"Beautiful," Sean said roughly and kissed him.



Sean's fingers were in him and it had been a while but not that long, not that Billy was a slut or anything except he was sort of acting that way with Sean but it wasn't Billy's fault that Sean's fingers felt so fucking good and made Billy want to shuck his skin and work his arse hard against Sean's long, elegant, probing fingers. Wasn't Billy's fault that he felt so hot and turned on that he couldn't stay still, couldn't breathe, couldn't do anything except lie there and move and squirm on the sweaty sheets and let Sean open him up and make strange noises in his throat and let his toes curl because Sean made him just feel so fucking amazing.

Sean was moving his fingers, thrusting slow and lazy and twisting inside Billy and talking, talking, a fucking class A litany dirty porn description of what he wanted to do to Billy, what he was going to do to Billy and exactly how much Billy was going to love it.

Billy was fairly sure that this would be the case.

They moved and shifted and tangled and retangled and twisted and scrambled until Sean was naked, until hot sweaty toned skin met and rubbed and arched and was kissed and sucked and licked and stroked and fondled. Until Sean's back was resting against the headboard and Billy was back straddling his thighs and rolling a condom onto him, tilting Sean's face up to him and kissing his mouth, wet and dirty, breaking off as he rose up onto his knees and shifted and Sean guided his dick until there was hot dark firm insistent pressure and Billy breathed in deeply and exhaled and pushed down as hard as he could and Sean jerked his hips up and they met somewhere in the middle and Billy made a sound like all the breath had been knocked out of him, stretched obscenely around Sean's urgent erection.

"Okay?" Sean asked thickly.

Billy swallowed, curved his back, squirmed a little, impaled, shifting his hips and rocking just a little. "Yeah... okay," he managed.

"Good, because I'm goin' to..." Sean lost his words in a tangled of breaths as he rocked his hips up a little and Billy moved with the motion, pressing his weight forward into Sean's hands.

They moved together slowly, carefully and then Sean's hard-won restraint snapped and he thrust up hard, scraping along Billy's prostate and sending sparks up Billy's nerves, flickering up and down his spine and gathering in his stomach and chest and they were moving together without grace or coordination and Billy was almost blindly riding Sean, angling the thrusts, leaning into the strokes that caught his prostate, setting fire to himself from the inside out. Billy ground down, squeezing Sean inside, clenching hard and a little cruel, revelling in Sean's dark groan and the way his hands bit into Billy's hips, the pain a counterpoint to the blazing pleasure that had overtaken Billy, that he was fucking drowning in.

They couldn't last long, not when foreplay had gone on for months (even if one of them hadn't been aware that foreplay was actually going on), not when they were both so fucking hungry for each other. People only come together in bad romance novels, Billy thought irrelevantly feeling Sean freeze beneath him and then jerk up once, twice, three times hard and completely without design and Billy felt him come. Felt him come inside Billy.

Billy moaned and caught at Sean's shoulders, riding out the last spasm.

Not bad. Not bad at all.



Sean's head dropped back against the headboard. "Oh my god," he said weakly. Billy was still tight around him. He needed to move but he was fairly sure his knees had gone on strike.

"Yeah," Billy's voice was raw and exhausted and taut with need. Oh?



Billy knelt up and they disentangled somewhat messily and disorganised. Sean was still shaking, his body humming and his mind clearer and cleaner than it had been for years. Plus, he'd just come hard enough to knock out all the aches and twinges in his back so that was a good thing.

Sean shut his eyes and worked his way down the bed until he was horizontal again and then pulled a vaguely protesting and really okay Sean, never mind, I... oh god do that again Billy into his arms, rolling him onto his back and reaching decisively between his legs and jerking him off hard and fast because the poor lad was so strung out and twitchy that any teasing wouldn't even be funny and Sean was far, far too blissed out to possibly attempt a blow-job at this point in the evening's proceedings.

A few flicks of Sean's wrist and a detailed description of how Sean was planning to fuck Billy in the morning and Billy was shuddering and shaking and coming and completely falling to pieces in Sean's arms.

Pretty, thought Sean absently.

While Billy was flailing gently, Sean pulled up the duvet. There was a sharp sea breeze and Billy was warm and boneless and amenable to being wrapped around.

"We've got an early call today," Sean noted.

Billy made a very tired, very annoyed sound (off-setting it by turning his head to kiss Sean's shoulder). "Until you've had a four thirty call, you don't know the meaning of 'early call'," he said.

"I prefer civilised calls and not having to wear prosthetic feet," Sean said. "Even if I did get killed off in the first film."

"Yeah, life is hard," Billy yawned. "Can we go to sleep now or do you want to talk about politics or something? Or football? I warn you, football will make me go to sleep."

"Only because Scotland don't have any good teams," Sean said without heat, curling in tighter to Billy.

"I'm going to sleep now," Billy informed him, sliding an arm over Sean's chest and promptly did so.

Sean grinned because, well, it was sort of inevitable, wasn't it? Gorgeous, sexy naked well-fucked Billy in his bed, tangled up together and so what if Sean didn't exactly know what would happen tomorrow, wasn't that half the fun?

"'Night Billy," he said softly, holding Billy just a bit tighter, and closed his eyes.

Billy smiled in his sleep.



Slashababy 2004 Stories