Title: In The Midnight Hour
Fandoms: Hard Core Logo
Pairing/Characters: Joe Dick/Billy Tallent
Rating: Explicit
Length: 530 words
Content Notes: Still Hard Core Logo, still no fluffy bunnies or happy endings here.  But somewhat less bleak & brutal than my last HCL fic, maybe?
Disclaimer: I didn't create these characters, I don't own them, I derive no profit from their use.
Summary: Some secrets Billy just discovered, and some he wishes he didn't know.

When you call my name it's like a little prayer
I'm down on my knees, I wanna take you there
In the midnight hour I can feel your power
Just like a prayer you know I'll take you there.

-- Madonna/Leonard Patrick

Here’s a secret Billy just found out: Joe can be tender.

He isn’t entirely surprised to have Joe’s dick in his ass.  Joe doesn’t fuck men, as far as Billy knows—and he’s pretty sure he would know.  Joe’s maybe been fucked by men a time or two; almost certainly by Bucky Haight back in the day (and someday when Joe isn’t looking, Billy is going to find a way to take creative and violent revenge on that pretentious British prick).  And the tangled, razor-edged thing between Joe and Billy is nothing as simple or easy as sex, but no, this isn’t really a surprise.  With all the booze and blow and anger and need and too-tight spaces, something would’ve happened, sooner or later.

What is surprising is how soft and slow and sweet Joe is taking it, sliding in and out of Billy like rocking a baby to sleep.  No pain, no anger.  Nothing to prove.  No words.  Just Billy groaning into the pillow and Joe’s breath hot and fast in his hair.

“Close your eyes and don’t move,” Joe said, pinning Billy to the mattress with one heavy hand.  And Billy, loose with whiskey and coming down from the post-show high, but not actually wasted, chose to roll with it.  Rested his face in the crappy motel pillow as Joe peeled off Billy’s jeans, letting his mind drift while his body waited for the shock of whatever it was Joe was about to hit it with.  Joe, lightening and thunder, Joe like a tsunami, like a sledgehammer.

But what Billy got was Joe’s fingers, big and slick and so fucking gentle, teasing and probing and finally sliding into Billy, a quiet spark of pleasure like cold water in the face on a summer day.  Slow and careful, relaxing him and winding him up all at once, pulling whimpers out of somewhere deep inside him.  Joe has no patience, but it felt like forever before Joe took his hand away and pushed his dick into Billy’s body instead, and Billy started to shake.

Here’s a secret Billy will never tell: This isn’t about revenge on Bucky or Billy or anyone else.  This isn’t about scoring points or lashing out or blowing off steam or screaming for help.  This is just Joe giving to Billy—taking from him—sharing with him something soft and unspeakable, something Billy wasn’t sure Joe had in him.

Slow and tender and almost silent.  With his eyes closed and his own face buried in the pillow and circled by his arms, Billy can’t see Joe’s face or anything else.  It’s the only way this could happen.  And this way, who’s to know if a few tears mix with the sweat coating Billy’s face?

Here’s a secret Billy wishes he didn’t know: Tomorrow morning, there will be shouting and fists and smashing things that can’t be fixed.  And maybe it’ll seem like just their usual shit, Billy and Joe fighting over nothing and everything, all part of the act, part of the chemistry that drives the music.  But there’s no way to un-know a secret, even if you never mention it.  And this is the beginning of the end.