A/N Another chapter, because I've been so eager to write this. Be warned of smut. Smutty smut slashy smut, here for your viewing pleasure.
Ch. 2 Calm
Billy's head was a messy place. He usually had about fifty different thoughts all running at the same time, at different speeds, and all of it changing in a few seconds because he never could pay attention to anything. Sometimes even he couldn't figure out the tangled-up, seething snarl of it.
The only time the rush-hour traffic of his thoughts ever slowed down was when he was with Marty, like this.
Billy leaned down, pressed their mouths together, ground his hips in even tighter because he was never close enough, not to him. Marty groaned into his open mouth and gripped Billy's hair, almost painful but also really not.
Billy let out this little gasp-Marty could drag the most embarrassing sounds out of him-and fumbled at Marty's shirt, his fingers clumsy on those tiny buttons. His own shirt had been off for some time now and his jeans were unzipped.
Billy'd never focused on anything in his life the way he focused on this. The way he focused on him. Sometimes it felt like the edges blurred and Billy was just one deep breath away from disappearing completely, melting away to a place so deep inside Marty that he'd never get out. Billy was aware that that thought shouldn't thrill him like it did.
The shirt finally came off and Billy ran his hands over Marty's chest, found those sensitive spots on his sides and stomach that made him arch up into him. And abused them shamelessly. Hey, he knew how to make humiliating little noises come out of Marty too.
Marty rolled them over then, so he was on top. They were about the same size but Marty was a little wider through the shoulders, and Billy loved that, loved the way he felt pressing down into him, covering him. Righted, pinned, placed.
"You're thinking again," Marty said, looking down at him. "You shouldn't be thinking. I must be doing something wrong."
Marty's hand suddenly went down, into the place where his pants gaped open, and he, and he rubbed and there went Billy making those fucking noises again. Marty grinned down at him, all dark-eyed and heated and hungry.
"Still thinking clearly?" he asked pleasantly.
Bastard, Billy thought, but out loud he said, "Oh… God," and his hips thrust up involuntarily, grinding into Marty's hand.
"That's better," Marty murmured, and then he kissed Billy again, licking into his mouth, and his hand tightened around Billy's cock and picked up the pace, and all Billy could do was squirm and grab at him, gripping his shoulders, his back. God, he was such a fucking hopeless idiot when Marty got ahold of him.
And Marty goddamned knew it, too. He pulled back and smirked, like I got you, you're all mine. And that look kicked Billy right in the gut, like it always did, mostly because it was so true.
Have I even really looked at anyone else since we got together?
Billy's hands went to Marty's jeans-he couldn't believe the damn things were still on-but Marty's free hand pushed them back to the bed, pinned them there above Billy's head.
"Uh-uh," Marty said thickly. "Not just yet. I wanna… watch you…"
Billy shuddered. God, he was so fucking close already, Marty was really good with his hands-all that fucking writing, huh?-and he was going for it too, working him over fast and hard, the rough skin of his palm rasping against Billy's cock and oh holy shit, he was not going to last much longer.
He moaned, his eyes squeezing shut.
"God," Marty breathed. "You're really beautiful, you know that?"
And that was it, Billy was coming hard, his hands clenching into fists where Marty still held them, his mouth flying open and groaning out Marty, nnngh, Marty as he came all over Marty's hand.
Some time later-felt like hours, was probably only a few seconds-Billy's eyes opened in time to see Marty lazily licking his hand clean, and that dragged one final, shivering twitch out of his cock.
"Fuck," Billy rasped.
Marty finally let go of Billy's wrists, settled back on his heels and smiled like he was very pleased with himself.
A smile that only got wider when Billy knocked him back on the bed, pinning him under his body. "Round two?"
"Fuck yeah, round two," Billy said. "You still ain't got off yet, have you?"
He ran his hand down, just to make sure. Nope. There was Marty still hard and throbbing and probably hurting a little too, against his zipper.
Now Billy was the one smirking, wide and predatory and pleased when Marty's breath hitched in really obviously.
"My turn," Billy said.
Buckle the fuck up, Marty.
