Pairing: Sean Bean/Billy Boyd
Authors: telesilla and msilverstar
Disclaimer: Not real. Never happened.
Warning: Not the Billy you think you know.
Notes: This will eventually be part of a series centering around Bean (though there may be some more Billy fics in the same universe as well) but can also be read as a stand-alone. msilverstar's part is for abundantlyqueer, in minor thanks for all the fabulous porn, and hopes it cheers up a long dark night of the graduate student.
Billy shifts back and forth on his feet uneasily, standing outside the trailer. It feels like cheating, asking Bean. But Pete and Fran have blown him off yet again. He can't blame them, they'd muttered something about a computer farm problem with the CGI and a hysterical costumer, respectively, as they rushed off after dinner. After he'd wined and dined them and was just getting his guitar out. Billy's watched them say no so many times, they've started to say it without even hearing anyone out, and he was trying to avoid that.
"Billy," Sean says with a smile. "Come in; have a beer." Billy interests Sean more than the rest of the hobbits. He's not as young as the rest of them, and yet he's just as likely to be in the middle of some prank as Elijah or Dom. He wonders if it's a desire to fit in, if Billy's secretly laughing at his fellow Hobbits, or if he really is as carefree as he seems.
Can't be too carefree, Sean thinks as Billy joins him in the trailer. Carefree people don't tend to come to me wanting a favour.
"Beer sounds good, ta," Billy answers, coming through the door. He doesn't know Sean all that well, doesn't fawn on him like Orli does, but they get on comfortably enough. And of course, Sean will have good beer at the proper temperature. It may sit a bit oddly on the wine, but Billy's stomach can handle it.
"Here you are," Sean says, handing Billy a beer. "So, taking a night off from hanging about with the kids, are you?" He takes up his own half empty beer and sits down, gesturing toward the couch.
Billy likes this kind, it's a good local brew. "I do that sometimes." They can be bloody tiring, Lij and Dom and Orli. Sean's couch is really quite comfortable, and he sinks down gratefully. "I had the Head Hobbit over for supper, but he and Fran had to run off."
"I'm always amazed when I can get him to sit long enough to have a few beers," Sean says with a laugh. "Let alone a full meal."
"They're fantastic, so much energy even now." Billy doesn't have the least idea how to bring this up, he'd rather earn his way than ask for favours. But he knows he won't possibly get this one if he doesn't ask someone, and soon. He takes another drink of the beer and wonders if he can challenge Sean to a game of billiards.
Sean could make it easier for Billy, but he sees no reason to. That's part of the whole thrill, after all; knowing that, even before sex comes into it, someone has had to lower their pride enough to come to him and ask for whatever it is that they want. Another men might actually sit down and try to figure out why he enjoys this so much, but Sean's never been the self-analytical type.
Billy feels a bit like a small animal being stalked by a tiger. He shifts uncomfortably and casts about for something to chat about. Hoping to find something in common and convenient to the topic not-yet-at-hand, he pops up to look at Sean's music collection.
Leaning back, Sean watches Billy go through the CD folder. "Does anyone on this set not have at least one of those?" he asks with a smile, wondering what Billy makes of the classic Bowie and the rest of the glam rockers. I refuse to apologize for the Queen, he thinks. And if he mocks the Annie Lennox, I'll take a belt to his arse and not in a fun way.
It never occurs to Billy to laugh, at least at anything beyond the Bay City Rollers. "D'ya have any Prince?" he asks, that seems about the right vintage.
"Yeah," Sean says. "At least I think it's in that one. Got 1999 somewhere, and Purple Rain I think."
And there's one. "Can I put it on?" Billy asks, desperate to move things along just a bit. When Sean nods, he muddles his way through the CD player and relaxes a bit at the familiarity of it. Nice thing about Prince, or whatever he's calling himself these days, he proves you don't have to be a big beefy bloke to get the birds. Maybe better not to say that to Sean though.
"Sure," Sean says, wondering if he's going to have to take pity on Billy and ask him why he's there. With a mental shake of his head, he decides to give Billy a little more time. As the organ starts up on the CD, Sean can't help grinning at the memory of dance clubs and back rooms and pretty boys who wanted nothing more than to suck him off in the loo. "Been a long time since this one came out," he says, letting his accent get a little broad. "Were a fuckin' lifetime ago."
Several lifetimes, Billy shivers. '92. "I was in a band, back then," Billy's trying to lead up to his question. "We were more like the Proclaimers, but we covered Prince a bit."
"A band?" Sean asks, trying not to laugh at the idea of a bunch of Scottish kids covering Prince. "That must have been a lot of fun, if a lot of work. Do you ever miss it?"
"All the time." Some days, it's just a little shake of surprise, that he's actually being paid to act and doesn't have to lug the drum kit to the van at the end of a night. Other days, it's an ache, like a cut-off hand, missing the music. He sings along with Prince, But life is just a party / And parties weren't meant 2 last.
Billy's not bad, and Sean can't help grinning, even as his mind works trying to figure out what Billy wants. "You should never have given up the band," he jokes.
Billy grins back at Sean, "But the glamour of acting! the excitement! the chance to pretend I'm three-foot-six!" He takes another draught of the beer. "We're doing a bit of singing in the film, especially me and Dom, but he can't carry a note in a bucket."
"Well then you'll have to sing all the louder, won't you?" Sean says. "Carry his notes for him."
This is the moment. Billy looks at Sean, "I love Dom, he's the best mate in the world, but I wouldn't mind," and he swallows, "a solo."
Took you bloody long enough, Sean thinks, not at all surprised at Billy's request. "Lot's of singing in the book," he says. "You have anything in mind? I might be able to talk to Pete...." He lets his voice trail off as he watches Billy closely.
"Would you? It would be a great favour." He hurries to explain, "I've been trying to get his attention, or Fran's, for weeks now, but every time I ask, they get distracted. I understand, but..." Billy's not sure what he's getting into but he's fucking sure it's worth it.
"But you've got a good voice and Tolkien wrote some things worth singing, so why not?" Sean agrees. "I'm sure people say I can get things done, and I can," he adds a little more seriously. "But it means me calling in favours. So, to be blunt, you'll owe me."
Billy doesn't care: he nods and looks straight at Sean, "I'm good for it, all right. Just name your price."
Sometimes words are good, but sometimes gestures are better. Right now the shock value of a gesture seems appropriate and Sean leans forward and takes Billy's chin in his hand, holding it firmly as he runs a thumb across Billy's lips.
Billy blanches and stiffens, but looks at Sean steadily. "I'll keep my word, I always do. Tell me what I must do."
Something about Billy's words -- which, Sean realizes, echo Frodo's lines from the script -- bring out Sean's rather odd sense of humor. "I know it's rather cliched," he says with a low chuckle, "but sometimes you have to go with the classics. Just what can you do with your mouth besides sing?"
"Is that what you want? A blow-job to fulfill my side of the bargain?" Billy's not smiling: he's still, quietly challenging Sean.
"One blow-job? For something like this?" Sean says coolly, intrigued by Billy's tone of voice. "You're getting a hell of a bargain. I have to use up a favour with Pete, after all."
Billy doesn't move. "One? Two, three, four? what do you want, Sean? You've got all the cards, but you're a clever bloke. Value for value is your stock in trade." Billy's voice stays quiet, he could be discussing New Zealand politics, as far as anyone could tell.
Billy's calm is impressive and rather unusual, and as much as Sean finds it a little unnerving, he has to give credit where it's due. "Two," he says, seriously. "One now, and one when Pete makes the script change." And then, out of some odd notion of respect or somesuch thing, he does something he's only done a few times. "And if he doesn't or won't make the change? I'll pay you back, in kind."
"No, that's all right." Billy's pleased by the gesture: his stance is a bit easier. "I know that you'll try your best." He says, in an oddly husky voice, "Deal, then," and slides to his knees, reaching for Sean's flies.
A little unsure if the change in Billy's voice is nervousness or arousal, Sean leans back, wondering if he can push, if he can correct any mistakes that Billy might make. Would he like that? Be shamed by it? Like being shamed by it?
Billy opens Sean's trousers and slides a hand in, leaning forward to lick Sean's cock as it pokes out of the innocuous light-blue boxers. He is silent.
Sean's usually better at reading people, particularly when they're about to give him head, but he's very unsure of Billy right now. The deft hand and the quick tongue give him the idea that Billy knows his way around a blow job, but the blank face is a puzzle and it makes Sean want to be cruel. Give him another minute, he thinks, but if I don't see any reaction of any kind -- fear, need, embarrassment, enjoyment -- I'm going to damn well provoke one.
Billy's tongue swirls around the cockhead, and his hands tease Sean's balls and thighs, as he settles more firmly on his knees. He steadily takes more and more of Sean's cock, opening his throat and pushing further down onto Sean until his nose touches pubic hair.
"Oh you've done this a time or two," Sean says, his voice a low rumble. Never mind that he's still not sure what Billy's feeling right now, what matters more at this moment is the skill with which Billy's mouth is working over Sean's cock.
That strikes Billy's funny bone, he starts to laugh and can't stop. His shoulders are shaking, eyes damp, chest heaving, as he pulls back to breathe and then opens his throat for Sean again.
"What," Sean growls, reaching down to grab Billy's chin, "are you laughing at?" He keeps his grip almost painfully tight, forcing Billy to look up at him.
"A time or two?" Billy's still laughing as he looks up at Sean. "How the fuck do you think a bookbinder pays for drama school?" He wipes his eyes, pushes Sean's hand away, and plunges down onto Sean's cock again, pulsing with the odd chuckle as he does.
Billy? On the game? The thought is as amusing as it is astonishing, and Sean finds himself wishing he'd asked for a bit more. "Then," he says, leaning over to grip the back of Billy's neck hard, "you'd better fucking impress me."
Confidently, Billy moves up and down, touches his balls and behind, learning what Sean likes. No matter how still a bloke tries to be, he can't disguise that kind of reaction: the twitches give him away.
"Oh yeah ," Sean growls angrily, "you're a right whore aren't you." He thrusts up with his hips, dropping any pretense of care or concern. Let him fucking choke on it.
Billy stops laughing, but he doesn't struggle. His throat opens with each stroke, he breathes when he can. Hands deftly stroke every tender part of Sean's crotch, but they're languid: the opposite of desperate. Billy takes his work seriously.
In spite of himself, Sean can't help leaning back in the chair, his breath shaky as his hand falls to Billy's shoulder. Gripping it tightly, he gives one loud cry as he comes, his whole body shuddering.
After swallowing, Billy cleans everything up and tucks Sean back in his pants, carefully, almost tenderly. He's wholly professional, like a concierge or a tailor.
For all that he's just been given a very good blow job, Sean feels more used than anything. There's no emotion in Billy's face or in his gestures, beyond the obvious satisfaction of a job well done. "Did you do that to get this part too? Or did you have to bend over for it?"
"If Pete had wanted, I would have, wouldn't you?" Billy agrees, with a little twist at the end. "But I'm much happier to be cast my acting ability."
"Never had to," Sean says, lying quite easily. He stands up, almost knocking Billy on his arse. "I'll talk to Pete about your singing ability, which, thanks to me, you'll get to show the world." He reaches into the fridge for a beer, wanting Billy gone.
"Ta," Billy's not quite sure what's wrong, but Sean clearly doesn't want to chat. He wipes his mouth, murmurs, "I'll let myself out, then," and quietly leaves, wondering what got Sean's knickers in such a twist.
"Next time," Sean mutters after Billy's left. "Next time will be very different."