Written for eleanor_lavish;
EL's story with this pairing should be read first, but if you don't want to, and you don't know who he is, Bob McLynn is Fall Out Boy's and Panic! At The Disco's manager.
I Just Picked Me A Plum
Well after last call, Bob stood outside with William and Joe, vaguely hoping that the soupy night air would sober Bill up somewhat.
Everyone else had left, pretty much, scattered to their hotels and temporary sublets; Bob could see Pete through the window, leaning against the bar and laughing at something the bartender was saying while he gathered glasses. Ashlee had ducked out through the back to avoid what photographers remained; only 2 left now, hunched for the last half-hour against the side of the building next door, persistent in their need for a shot of Pete. One of them kept casting curious looks at Joe, like maybe he was someone the photographer should recognize, but hastily looked away when Bob smiled dangerously at him. There didn't need to be any more of a fucking scene than there already had been earlier; Bob was tired, the buzz still humming quietly in his head, and he was grateful when the photographers crossed the street, hefting their cameras under their arms.
William swayed next to him, and he automatically anchored an arm around William's waist, murmuring "don't fall, kid," into his ear.
"I can walk," William said indignantly, his fingers plucking at Bob's arm. "I can walk, I could fucking run, I could run like a mile or more, like the New York Marathon, like P. Diddy did – "
"Diddy didn't," Joe said, and William blinked.
"Diddy did."
"Diddy did not."
"Diddy did too!" William frowned and turned to Bob. "Didn't he?"
"Could you please not confuse him?" Bob rubbed the heel of his hand against William's hip comfortingly, ignoring Joe's laughter. "He's already got to remember what hotel room we're in."
"I remember that!" William protested, stumbling a little and turning in Bob's grip, pressing them together full-body, his hands to Bob's chest. Bob tightened his arm around William's waist, both to steady him and simply because he could. "I remember what room we're in," William repeated plaintively, his breath hot and whiskey-sweet on Bob's cheek.
"You better," Bob said. He let his fingers wander south just a bit, spanning the curve of William's ass, feeling for the outline of the key-card in William's back pocket, and William arched back into Bob's touch, his lips brushing Bob's neck.
"Okay, for real, you guys." Joe hopped from foot to foot. "Can you save it for the hotel room Bill remembers? I mean, I cherish your love and stuff – "
"Cherish," William whispered against Bob's chin, shifting his hips slightly. Bob hiked him a little closer; for safety, so he wouldn't fall, really.
" – but I already got the fucking floorshow in the bathroom from Pete and thingy, and seriously – "
"Thingy, theriouthly," Bill whispered.
"Ssh," Bob said, patting him on the ass.
" – seriously, I'm really actually kind of comfortable paying for my porn," Joe finished. "In fact, I think I insist. And I'm broke! So you gotta take it home, because I couldn't pay you to watch you grope each other even if I wanted to."
"Take me home," William told Bob's collarbone, the authoritative tone only slightly muffled by the cotton of Bob's shirt.
"Hotel okay for now?" Bob asked, smoothing his thumbs just under the hem of William's t-shirt, across the soft, warm skin of the small of his back. William answered with a pleased affirmative noise; he curled his hands into the lapels of Bob's jacket and tugged, even though there wasn't any closer Bob could get, really, and rolled his hips again, and there was nothing Bob wanted to do more than take William back to their room and let him tug his jacket all the way off, and everything else off too.
"I'll call you a car," Joe said.
When they crawled into the cab a few minutes later, just as Bob had finished telling the driver where to take them, Joe ducked his head inside. "You know, I'm not really broke."
"I know," Bob said, shifting to arrange William's legs more comfortably over his thighs.
"I really cherish your love."
"I'm glad."
"I think Bill's asleep."
"M'not," William muttered, frowning and leaning his head against the car window. "I cherish you, Trohman."
"Of course you do," Joe said easily, patting William's foot.
"I cherish Bob."
"You cherish everybody," Bob told him. He was pretty sure that William and Travis had cherished a blunt earlier in the kitchen, mostly because Bob could still smell it on him. He didn't smoke himself, but he kind of liked it when William did. It made him more embracingly sure of himself and everyone around him, plus his eyes got squinty and little. It was cute.
"So you'll call tomorrow," Joe said to Bob. Bob nodded, and Joe said "manana!" as he closed the car door, wriggled his fingers and mimed a phone, mouthing call me! Bob flipped him off through the window; as the cab pulled away from the curb, he saw Joe blow him a kiss.
"I'm not asleep," William repeated, shifting against Bob, but he didn't sound any more alert than he had a few minutes earlier.
"It's not too far," Bob said. "We'll put you to bed pretty soon here."
"I'm not going to sleep," William said. "Not now, not at the hotel. I'm going to - mmm, know what I'm going to do?"
"What's that?" Bob asked, keeping his voice low and angling in close for some semblance of discretion from the cab driver. William tilted his chin up, and Bob couldn't resist brushing the hair off his face. William leaned into Bob's hand, turning his face to catch the side of Bob's palm with a kiss.
"I'm going to suck you," he whispered, and just like that, the air between them grew thickened. Bob inhaled, nice and slow.
"Oh yeah?"
"Yeah." William's tongue flicked against Bob's palm. "When we get back, back to our room, I'm gonna suck your cock. I'm going to suck you until you come in my mouth."
"Shit," Bob said hoarsely.
He could feel the heat radiating off William's body, all of William's vibrant focus on him, and he could still remember meeting William for the first time, skinny-ass kid looking cool as a cucumber in the muggy Chicago summer heat, pushing his hair off his face with delicate hands as Pete introduced them. Bob hadn't known back then how much he would want someone like Bill, someone so ridiculous, so sincere, so fucking young. But watching him sing that night and seeing the determination that Pete always talked about, he had known for the first time that he could want it - not just William's body, those long legs and those hips and that fucking gorgeous mouth, but that fire, that drive, directed at him. And now he had it, moving against the weight of his body, surrounding his heart and squeezing, and he never wanted anything else.
"I'm gonna swallow for you," William murmured, wrapping his hand around the back of Bob's neck and pulling his head down so that their foreheads were touching, and christ, maybe Bob didn't care about the cab driver. "And then you're going to get me off."
"Yeah," Bob breathed. He was hard, his dick pressing painfully against the zipper of his jeans.
"You're gonna get me off, in your hand, right there, no waiting, no teasing, you know why?" William's tongue touched Bob's lips briefly, licking and darting inside, quick and deep, but it left Bob breathless. "You know why?"
"Why?"
"Because you want me," William said, right into Bob's mouth, and there it was, burning, fire-hot. "Because you love me."
"Yeah," Bob said again, nothing to argue, nothing else to say. How far was their fucking hotel?
**
Paying the driver and negotiating the elevator up to the fourteenth floor was a blur, especially the elevator part; William's hands were everywhere and the part of Bob that worried about discretion was quieted by the insistent push of William's tongue into Bob's mouth.
They were barely inside the room when William tugged at Bob's fly, and it never failed to take Bob by surprise, William's uncanny dexterity for nudity when he was drunk. There was always something sweetly urgent about the clumsy hands and heedless mouths of Bob's previous hookups, but nothing could be sweeter than William's lips murmuring against Bob's neck, nothing more urgent than William's victorious gasp when he worked Bob's cock free, palming it and stroking it dry until Bob swallowed hard and had to grab William's wrist to slow him down, because dammit, he wanted Bill's mouth on him, wanted to get his hands into Bill's hair and watch him swallow his cock down, inch by inch.
The bed was close, but "here, right here," William begged, already on his knees, and jesus, it was like he couldn't even wait; Bob tried to shift his legs farther apart, but William's palms were stroking up his thighs, curving around to knead the muscles of Bob's ass and pulling his hips forward, getting Bob's jeans down just enough to allow him easier access.
He didn't even wrap a hand around the base of Bob's cock, just licked his lips and then at the head, his tongue wet and warm, teasing around the ridge, and then he opened his mouth and sucked Bob in, and it was everything Bob had been waiting for, his entire life, it seemed, even though William loved to blow him. Every time was like the first time, when Bob hadn't hardly believed what was happening, when it had seemed like a gift he didn't deserve, William's sweet mouth tight and wet around him - every single time, Bob was so fucking grateful, it staggered him.
William curled his tongue, taking Bob in deep, his head bobbing on Bob's cock, moaning around it like he'd never tasted anything better, and fuck, Bob couldn't control himself, had to thrust forward.
"Sorry, sorry," he gasped, his hand apologetically gentle on the back of William's head, but William's fingers dug into his hips, forcing him deeper, and Bob groaned, thrusting with erratic rhythm until his cock hit the back of William's throat, so fucking slick and perfect.
He let himself go, fucking William's willing mouth. William responded eagerly, sucking harder, pushing his tongue against the shaft of Bob's dick and then curling it around, his cheeks hollowing with every bob of his head, and it felt so fucking good, too good, too goddamned good.
He tried to warn William, desperately thumbing the curve of William's cheek, over and over, but then he was coming, hard and pulsing, and true to his word, William swallowed each thick spurt, his throat working to take it, making the soft noises of pleasure that Bob loved so much.
Bob's knees were weak by the time William pulled off, licking the head of Bob's cock clean and pressing an open-mouthed kiss to the underside, and fuck that, Bob had to pull him to his feet, kiss his mouth hard enough to taste himself on William's tongue. "You," he said fiercely, reaching down to palm William's ass, already anticipating the needy arch of William's hips against his, "are fucking amazing, you know that?"
"Come on," William whispered hoarsely, rubbing the hard line of his dick against Bob's body, "come on, come on," and it was easy to walk him backwards, half-lifting him onto the bed, and in the twenty seconds it took Bob to get his shirt off, William had already shed his clothes, kicking his jeans off the bed, pushing up desperately into the palm of his hand until Bob knocked it away and grabbed for his dick with a spit-slick hand.
"Yeah," William breathed, his eyes squeezed shut, his head turned to the side; Bob couldn't resist stretching up to lick the long line of his neck, glistening with sweat and William whimpered. He lifted his hips again and again, fucking Bob's fist with abandon, one hand clutching Bob's forearm tightly as if to urge him on, as if Bob needed any urging.
William on the brink of orgasm (William anytime, Bob's mind whispered) was beautiful, graceless and needy; his cock filled Bob's hand, hot, hard, and Bob wanted to see it, wanted to feel William come. He stroked William steadily, tightening his grip when the head of William's cock slid through his fingers, "come on," he said, "come for me, baby," and William moaned and obeyed, canting his hips up hard and coming, thick and white over Bob's hand. Some of it hit his stomach, and Bob didn't even think before bending to lick it off him.
"Jesus," William said shakily, after a moment, "get the fuck up here." Bob looked up at him - his eyes were bright, his hair tangled around his face, his cheeks flushed, and when Bob kissed his way up William's body, his lips pressing to the sharp plane of William's sternum, his peaked nipple, the hollow of his collarbone, he could hear the furious beat of William's heart, still racing as William fought to control his breath.
"I should turn the lights off," he murmured into William's mouth, when he reached it. William shook his head, licking at Bob's lips and framing his face with his hands, pulling him in for kiss after kiss. "You'll wake up in the middle of the night," Bob protested between kisses, but he was already reaching behind William's head for the edge of the rucked-up blankets, ready to go to sleep with William pressed against him, warm and naked.
"I've got it," William said happily, sleepily, sliding off the bed. He was still half-hard, long lines and glowing skin, and Bob missed the sight of him when he hit the lights, sending the room into darkness and leaving his body no more than a tall shadow crossing the room back to bed.
Bob should have set the alarm, or called the front desk to arrange for a wake-up call, or maybe even the West Coast offices to check in for the night, but when William eased between the sheets, tucked a thigh between Bob's, and threw an arm over Bob's chest, nuzzling in and sighing contentedly, Bob just folded his hand over William's arm and closed his eyes.
**
Between time spent at the office (mostly on conference calls, regardless of what coast he was on) and time spent on the road (mostly in the front lounge of the Fall Out Boy bus, with Hemingway chewing stubbornly on the toe of his shoe), the practicality of the matter was that Bob just didn't get to sleep with William all that often. When he did, he was usually up first; hazards of the business, he would explain softly when William squinted up irritably from the pillows at the whirr of Bob's laptop gearing into power at 6am. Bob had lost the ability to really sleep in sometime in his early thirties.
Or maybe he had just misplaced the ability, because when he woke up with the mid-morning sunlight hitting his face, he was alone in the bed and William was at the door, tipping the room service guy in hushed tones.
"There's bacon, right?" Bob asked, his voice still scratchy with sleep.
"There's oatmeal," William said sternly, rolling the cart over to the side of the bed. He was wearing his jeans and nothing else, and when he sat down on the bed, Bob couldn't resist running a hand up the line of William's spine, knuckling over his shoulder-blades and rubbing the base of his neck under the curtain of his hair. William stretched under his ministrations, like a cat, and hummed deep in his throat, busying himself with the contents of the tray.
"Oatmeal's fucking boring," Bob tried, and William arched away from his touch.
"Oatmeal's fucking awesome for you," he said, "especially if you only put in like one spoon of brown sugar."
"Fucking boring," Bob groused, but he pushed himself up, the sheets pooling around his waist, and took the tray from William. He raised an eyebrow when he saw what was on it, and William shrugged, smiling.
"Okay, so I got you bacon. You probably need the protein, though, that's the only reason."
"Uh huh." Bob reached for the bacon, crisp and greasy on the white plate, and William smacked his hand.
"Oatmeal first."
"Jesus, Beckett."
"Well, if you don't, it fucking defeats the purpose of me taking care of you, asshole." William scowled as he added a spoonful of sugar to the oatmeal - which actually looked delicious, but it was the principle of the thing, and if William hadn't been going to the trouble of stirring the damn stuff, Bob might have fought harder.
"More sugar," he said instead. William shook his head, and Bob rolled his eyes. "You're slow in the morning, kid," he said, as he took William's wrist and tugged him down. William smiled against Bob's mouth. He tasted like good coffee, the kiss slow and gentle, and Bob could have kept kissing him all morning, maybe into the afternoon, but William pulled away after a minute and patted Bob on the stomach.
"Eat," he said, "and call Pete, you were going to - "
"Right," Bob said. "You have to go?"
William shrugged. "In a while. I was going to shower."
"Oh yeah?"
"If you eat your oatmeal," William said, unbuttoning his jeans, "you can join me. Again."
Bob remembered yesterday morning, his body covering William's under the hot spray of water, holding his hips and pushing slowly into him while William braced himself against the wet tile, the sting of William's hair hitting his face when William tossed his head back, teeth bared in a snarl when Bob had wrapped a hand around his cock and stripped it, pulling the orgasm from him, long and lovely, William's cries echoing off the walls of the bathroom.
He held up his hands in mock defeat. "Only because it's awesome for me."
William snorted, dropping his jeans to the ground and stepping out of them. "I'm awesome for you," he said, just before disappearing into the bathroom, and Bob watched the door swing shut with a grin on his face. Nothing to argue, nothing else to say.
