Subject: [BA_Gutter] Charming Billy NC-17 Spangel/Chapter IV From: "spikesfool2003" Date: Sun, 27 Feb 2005 21:03:53 -0000 Chapter IV Slap. Pause. Slap. Pause. Slap. Sleepy warm, drowsing under the thick blanket, the sound penetrates Billy's woolen cocoon. He lifts his head cautiously to peer out at the morning-washed room, then ducks back into his cosy cave. The door to the bedroom where Liam had disappeared the previous night still stands open. Slap. Slap. Slap. Slap. The tempo of the sound increases interspersed with low huffs and harsh sighs. Billy pulls the covers more tightly over his head and stares down at the arousal throbbing between his legs. He watches mesmerized as his erection swells, sliding damply along his inner thigh, lifting over his belly. He is painfully hard, his body ablaze with need. No imaginings of a wanton Cecily, spread and eager for his attentions, have ever driven him nearly so mad with lust as the thought of what Liam is doing in the next room. He focuses on the sounds of the other man's pleasure. The music of it plays to his ear like the crescendo of a symphony, wrapping him in a hot fist, the way he wraps himself. He feels the other's increasing rhythm in his own groin. Massaging a hand along his stiffness, Billy relishes the heat spreading down his fluid-slick length. A splatter of heavy drops fill the cup of his navel with a sticky potency that smells of the ocean's brine. At the heady scent, he arches up knowing what is to come. Buttocks tighten in a frisson of breathless excitement when a low, urgent cry wrenches from a constricted throat only yards away. Billy thrusts into his fist, fingers working over slit, down again to balls swollen with potency, their heavy pulse hot in his palm. He pulls slippery skin up to encompass the leaking head, then back roughly, once more exposing the swollen slit, probing into the leaking gash with his thumb. It's so close. He shudders with the need to orgasm. Shame wars with sensuality. An anguished groan escapes him as he forces two slim finger inside the forbidden clench of his puckered rectum, imagining darker, sweeter things. A sharp gasp and he is ejaculating, all of it thick and hot, splashing everywhere while his body spasms exquisitely into knee-trembling collapse. Liam appears in the doorway. Billy can feel him there, every surface of his skin pinging with an electric fizzle of sensation at his nearness. He freezes, afraid to move, hand still wrapped around his manhood where it nuzzles up into the blanket's damp warmth. He relaxes his fingers as it nods in sleepy repletion and allows it to slip from his grasp and sink onto its bed of wet curls. The silence is only broken by the harsh pant of lungs striving for air. Two sets of lungs. Two chests slick with sweat, heaving for control. No doubt in either mind what has just happened or who each man imagined receiving his fecund release with drowsy, lust-darkened eyes, one pair brown, the other blue. Liam cleared his throat with difficulty. "You're awake then, Billy?" Reality swept back. Billy considered staying hidden so he wouldn't have to meet the knowing gaze of the man across the room. Was it mortification or belligerence he felt? He wasn't sure. Reaching deep, he found a bit of steel to brazen it out. He was a private man, but not a coward. Billy pushed the covers away from his face, chin jutting with embarrassed defiance. He half-sat, licking at his throbbing lip. It tasted of blood. His mouth was filled with the sharp, coppery flavor. So violent were the throes of his completion, he'd bitten his own flesh and been unaware of the damage until that moment. "I'm awake, yes. Good morning, Liam." From where he stood, Liam saw the drop of crimson trembling on Billy's swollen lower lip. In an eye's blink, an agile tongue swept away any trace of red that might testify to the silent act of passion they'd shared. He swallowed deeply. "Morning to you, lad. How did you sleep on your bumpy bed?" He felt an idjit standing there wrapped in his own blanket, the pair of them gawkin' at each other. And there was no doubt in his mind the lad's gob-smacked expression mirrored his own perfectly. At the sight of Billy's tongue, Liam dropped his gaze knowing if he hadn't already spent so copiously, the blood on Billy's mouth, signifying as it did to the lad's helpless loss of control, would have brought his loins to iron. As it was, he spun on his heel and went unsteadily back into the bedroom. "Liam? Is something wrong." Billy's voice followed him to where he leaned against a wall fighting his body's attempt at renewal. Visions of Billy wanton in his arms, naked and pliant swarmed in his head. "I'll dress," he managed to call. "They'll be comin' for us, no doubt." Oh sweet Christ. The sight of those lips ripe for kissing, broad shoulders wrapped in a perfection of flushed skin and a glimpse of well-defined muscles where the blanket dipped under a trembling hand exposing a hint of brown nipple was enough to drive him to distraction. Solemn blue eyes had regarded him with a steady intensity that dizzied Liam's head. It was suppose to be the other way around, Billy, not him acting the part of a fool. Who was the seducer here? Liam had only ever wanted soft curves, something full and rounded to hold and penetrate, but the hard planes of Billy's body hit him everywhere at once, gut, prick, tightening clench of balls. He bent and clutched his knees. Until he had himself in hand, he dare not return to look upon Billy again, sprawled in loose-limbed disarray. He wanted to wrap an arm around that alabaster throat and take the other man as he'd envisioned in his fantasy, Billy's body arched in a taut bow under Liam's rude intrusion, writhing to the harsh, slick thrust of cock deep in his bowels. He'd imagined Billy's plea to be used, then the husky cry of surrender as Liam took him down. "Yes, of course. We must both dress." Liam groaned inwardly as he heard Billy's reply, the husky voice so like his perverted dreams, it made his legs shake with the effort to keep from going to him. He hung his head and panted for control, cursing himself for a damned Sodomite. Billy's answer was raspy low, sex-roughened, though he coughed and tried to hide its gravelly croak. Thank the Lord God Liam had gone back into the bedroom. The sight of him tousle-headed and sleepy- eyed, bundled in his own blanket, had made Billy feel so many conflicting emotions he was quite breathless. Trying to bring his thoughts back to practical matters, Billy looked around for the clothes he'd worn the previous night. They lay in a soiled heap on the floor near the couch. He tipped his head back in dismay to stare at the ceiling. Both garments were covered in drying splotches of milky residue. They were unwearable. Billy gritted his teeth. "Liam, could you bring me something clean? I'd be greatly obliged for the favor." Liam straightened. He had seen clearly the discarded pile of clothes at the foot of the couch. In his mind's eye, he looked again and recognized the white stains that covered them for what they were. An evil leprechaun perched itself quite comfortably on the Irishman's shoulder. "And why would that be, lad? Have you lost your brave new costume in the night?" He peered around the doorjamb to meet Billy's eyes, the devil's own smile playing over his lips. "What of yonder bits and pieces?" "Bring me something clean this instant, damn you." Billy didn't take well to being teased. "Ahhh, foul language, is it? My little Englishman has worked himself to a fine lather this morning." At the embarrassing truth of this statement, Billy's face crimsoned. "I think you'll drive me to distraction before this is over," he huffed. "Stop mocking me, Liam, and bring me some trousers and a clean shirt. The others will be coming. It wouldn't be....proper to wear these. They're soiled." A bare foot slipped out from under the blanket and toed the pile. Liam found himself further aroused by the sight of that slim, naked foot. He felt immediate what a truly perverted man he was, his soul in peril of hellfire. He'd never believe it before, no matter how many times he'd been told. What if he snatched the blanket away entire? What would Billy do? "Now, if you please. Or must I find them myself?" At Billy's petulant tone, Liam meekly bowed his head and disappeared into the bedroom. He was sorely tempted to provoke the lad further. He'd such a pretty pout. But with company coming, it was best not to push too hard. He was learning Billy had a hot little temper. If there was going to be an explosion, Liam wanted it to be a private one that he could enjoy at his leisure. Liam dressed quickly in a soft pair of woolen trousers and another black shirt, this one of the finest linen. And weren't they both a treat to skin use to the touch of coarser cloth? Then heeding Billy's demand, he pawed through the pile of clothes he'd flung in the corner the previous night, before he'd collapsed on the bed, shaken by his abrupt spill at the sight of Billy's lovely prick erecting itself. Billy's wardrobe choices appeared to be limited. Black pants and small, black cotton shirts were the extent of the offerings in his size. Liam grabbed one of each and returned to where Billy lay grumbling on the couch. "Here ya go, me darlin'." He dropped the shirt and trousers on Billy's lap. "Best get to it. You're right. They'll be taking us down to our doom any minute or I'm not mistaken." Billy waved an imperious hand at the tall man. He was uncomfortable knowing only a blanket shielded his nudity from the dark eyes watching him. "Allow me to rise then." Liam took a small step back which gave Billy just enough room to gather the blanket around his waist and stand, clothes clutched to his chest. They were so close, Billy's forehead was almost on a level with Liam's lips. Both men were immediately overcome with their own remembrance of Liam's kiss of benediction a few hours before while Billy lay in supposed slumber. "I like the smell of ya." Liam's soft voice made the hairs at the nape of Billy's neck prickle. "Like honey with a touch of peat smoke stirred in." "Daft." Billy stepped quickly around the looming presence and hurried into the bedroom, shutting the door firmly behind him. Oh God. What was happening to him? Standing so near Liam had made his bones feel soft, loose jointed. He'd wanted to tip his head back and feel that earlier kiss on his mouth. Damn the man! Dressing in haste, Billy pushed all further treacherous thoughts from his mind, concentrating instead on hopes of release. Mother would be so worried. He dared not allow himself to think of his disappearance provoking a serious bout of illness. On such somber concerns, he heard the murmur of voices signaling the arrival of their escorts. Once more fully clothed and the flush of the early morning encounter with Liam faded from his cheeks, Billy left the bedroom to find Gunn pacing, giving a nervous Liam last minute instructions. When he saw Billy, a grin spread over his dark, handsome face. "Got another present for you, Spike-lite." With a flourish, Gunn unfolded a bundle of black leather from his arm and furled it out like a matador's cape for Billy's appreciation. "Had it made up last night. Can't have you going down naked." He blinked. "That so didn't come out right. And it's gonna take weeks to scrub the picture out of my mind." Wesley gave Gunn a jaundiced look. "What Charles means to say is, Spike is never without his duster. It would cause more curiosity than the missing hair if you appear without it. So we had one made up it replace the missing original." Wesley's explanation petered out as he realized William wasn't hearing a word of what he was saying. Billy put out his hand to accept the long leather duster, swirling it up over his shoulder and slipping his arms inside all in one fluid movement, as though he'd done it a million times. It settled easily around his body, the sleeves molding to his arms, the collar falling perfectly in place. It made him feel different somehow, braver, a man to be reckoned with. Stroking his palms in sensual delight over the lapels, he beamed up at Gunn. "Thank you, Sir. This is....special." He wiggled his shoulders, settling the coat more comfortably. "You say this is my coat?" At Wesley's nod, Billy grinned. "It's no wonder to me I chose to wear such a dashing garment. It feels right somehow." "It appears the tailors did a good job making it look authentic," Wesley commented. Gunn and Wesley exchanged pleased nods. If they hadn't know better, both men would have sworn it was Spike standing there, gloating over his duster with appreciative little sighs of bliss. Despite the hair, perhaps even because of it, the transformation was a success. Of course, Wesley mused, the reaction might have been quite a different one if William knew the coat was taken from the body of the second Slayer Spike had killed. Wesley often wondered why Spike kept it after he'd earned his soul. Perhaps, he viewed it as a trophy of war, won in a fair fight, therefore, not something to be ashamed of, but rather a show of respect to his fallen foe. That was an illuminating thought. Liam, who'd been silent until now, came forward to inspect Billy's new garment. He reached out to run a hand over the supple leather covering one strong arm. "Now isn't this a fine, brave coat? I'm thinking you look quite the dangerous fellow wearing such as this. A highwayman with a brace of pistol under yer belt. Makes ya look taller, somehow, not so small and..." Billy arched an angry eyebrow at him. "Thank you, Liam, for making me feel some species of misshapen pygmy. A person doesn't have to be a great lummox, as some are, to..." "I've enough of your spellbinding ways, ya little nob. You've taken a fine compliment and twisted it into an insult never meant and I've a mind to...." Listening to Liam sputter in indignation, Gunn grinned. "Hey, they're even getting the bickering down. Come on, guys. Stop with the banter or we'll never get outta here." Reluctantly, the argument cease, Billy still scowling, Liam looking put upon and innocent of any intention to insult. "Now listen." When he had both men's attention Gunn continued. "Whatever you do, don't forget you're suppose to be Spike and Angel. And, okay, you can't be drugstore Indians the whole time you're down there, so we've come up with some all purpose dialogue for you." He pointed at Liam. "When you're frownin' and lookin' all boss-like, if anybody comes up with somethin' you can't get outta answering, just repeat 'Say that again' in a bad-ass voice until they go away. Angel gets 'em every time with that one. " "Bad ass?" "Use your most threatening tone of voice, Liam. That should do the trick." Wesley smiled as understanding dawned in Liam's eyes. The big man repeated Gunn's line several times in a very intimidating tone, all the while glaring at Billy, who glared right back at him. "Damn you guys look good. I'm beginning to think we're gonna pull this off." Gunn turned to study Billy intently, who after a moment began to shift uncomfortably under his gaze. "Now, see, you can't do that. If somebody stares at you, you gotta stare right back at 'em. Give them the eyebrow thingy and smirk." Billy did the eyebrow thingy in confusion. "People are going to be staring at me? Really, I don't think I'll be able to 'pull this off' as you say, Mr. Gunn. I'm not use to people staring at me. Why on earth would they do such a thing?" "Because you're a beautiful sight to behold, Billy." Liam answered before Gunn could diplomatically frame the same thought into more acceptable words. "You draw the eye like a fine stallion in a pack of plough horses. And if you say I'm comparing you to a horse's arse, I'm gonna punch you unconscious." Billy glared at his tormentor. Gunn arched an eyebrow of his own. "Wouldn't put it quite like that, but yeah. People just kinda stare at Spike when he's around. It's a thing. You'll get use to it and if anybody says anything to you, just keep saying "Ya think?" "You think?" Billy looked bewildered. "No, no. Ya think?" "You think?" "Shit, man, say it like that and the game's over." Gunn leaned into Billy's face. "YA think?" Swallowing nervously, Billy repeated the words, this time getting them right. "Ya think?" "All right!" "Really, Sir. Your speech patterns leave a great deal to be desired. A person might come to the conclusion you are completely uneducated, a navy even. I've not been raised to...." Liam began to laugh and Gunn joined in. "Best let me do the talking, lad. 'Pears the future you's got a bit of a mouth on him. Though the Lord knows, you're gettin' quite touchy, your own self. They'll know you for a toff the minute you open your gob even if their eyes be blinded by your face." Wesley, who'd been silent up until then, nodded. "This new haircut really is quite flattering. It makes you look...younger somehow... vulnerable." As three faces, one with a thunderous expression, turned to him, Wesley shrugged in embarrassment. "Just an observation. I suppose it's attitude that makes the difference and you do seem to be developing the attitude, William. Well then, let's get to it. The sooner we show off the presence of our champions, the better." He carefully avoided Liam's dark scowl as he lead the way downstairs. When they emerged from the lift, Wesley planned to spend the day with Liam in Angel's office and Gunn would take William to Fred in the lab. Keeping both men on show, but segregated from the rest of the Wolfram and Hart population as much as possible, would be a tricky proposition. The first bump in their road appeared in the form of a squealing Harmony. Spotting the party exiting the elevator, she rushing around her desk making an ungodly noise and drawing all eyes to an entrance they'd hoped to keep low key. "Oh. My. God. Spikey. What did you do to your hair?" Billy took a step back as the blonde juggernaut careened into him. Small hands clutched everywhere at once, his arm, his chest, his cheek. "Can I touch it? Please, please? Oh, it's yummy." Not waiting for his response, Harmony reached up to stroke her hand over Billy's head. "Oh. My. God. This feels so sexy." She bounced on her heels, eyes glowing. "Ohhhh, Spikey. I wanna feel this on my....." A large hand closed around Harmony's shoulder, jerking her back so hard she stumbled and almost fell. Looking up, she found a furious Angel glowering at her. "Sheesh, Angel. What's your damage? I just wanted to touch it. It's not like you've got six appointments lined up. A girl deserves a five minute break once in awhile. Spikey looks so cute like this." "Get your paws off him, wench. Go about your business 'fore I smack your arse for ya." Gunn stepped in quickly. "Quit your jokin', Angel." He grabbed Liam's arm, pulling him away from the Harmony. "Bro, you need to let the lady go." Liam's expression perfectly reflexed Gunn's own coaching. He turned a murderous gaze on the man holding him. "Say that again," he gritted out between clenched teeth. "Whoa, backing off here." Gunn raised both hands and stepped away. Harmony's shock at being manhandled was only exceeded by her confusion at what Angel had said. She was speechless. Not something that happened often. Taking advantage of the opportunity, Wesley hustled his charges away from the confused blonde, pulling Gunn in their wake. "Somebody would think you were jealous if they didn't know better," she shouted at Angel's retreating back. "Spikey. How about a nooner?" Billy stared at her blankly as he was hauled unceremoniously down the hall. Pretty Miss Fred had possibilities, but this apparition was most definitely a wench. If nothing else had convinced him, the way the woman rubbed herself against his body would have confirmed it. It was a surprise, therefore, to find it not quite so stimulating as he'd imagined it would be. He frowned and glanced to Liam, who was staring at him with hot, unreadable eyes as they were lead in opposite directions. Later, when Wesley could bring himself to think about it, the day hadn't been a complete debacle. They'd separated their faux pair of champions, Wesley spending the day with Liam on exhibit in Angel's glass-walled office, allowing all and sundry to see it was business as usual with the small caveat that appointments were cancelled and Harmony instructed to put off whoever demanded entrance to the Boss' presence. Billy was taken to Fred in the lab. Spike often spent his days there teasing Fred and generally getting in everyone's way for lack of something better to do. Billy was disconcerted to find Fred's greeting similar to Harmony's. She squealed, clapping her hands and tittering girlishly. "Wesley told me you cut your hair." Fred made it a point to speak loudly, not only because she was quite taken with the new look, but for the benefit of any listening ears. "Can I touch it?" Billy was charmed by her soft giggle. He ducked his head obediently and allowed Fred to rub her fingers into the thick brown nap covering his skull. Unlike his lack of response to the wench, he enjoyed the feel of Fred's small hands caressing his scalp. He lifted his eyes to smile at her gently. "I'd forgotten you haven't seen my new haircut. Everyone is very complimentary. You really like it?" Billy blinked when Fred shushed him. "Don't talk if you can help it," she whispered. "Let me do all the babbling. I'm famous for it. And yes, I love it. It's kind of adorable and sexy all at the same time." Fred grabbed Billy's hand and drew him over to one of the tables covered with a myriad of test tubes and unfamiliar metal equipment. "Here, Spike. Let me show you what I'm working on right now." In a low voice, she hissed, "Stop blushing, silly, or they'll know you're not Spike. Spike never blushes." "Your obedient servant, dear lady." Billy gave her what he hoped was a very Spike-like smirk. Fred's eyebrows shot up, then she broke into a delighted laugh. "That was...perfect. Now, be quiet and let me bore you to tears." Billy listened seriously while Fred explained the astounding differences between late nineteenth century science and the dumbfounding strides made in the past hundred years. He was anything but bored. He had a vastly intelligent mind, both inventive and hungry for new knowledge and the day sped by quickly as he assimilated all the wonderful things Fred had to show him. Two dark heads bent close together as they moved around the room, their voices a low murmur, unintelligible to the rest of the laboratory's occupants. Knox, working quietly at a table in the far corner, watched the pair with growing surprise. He'd never known Spike to do more than lounge in a corner making a pest of himself. His interaction with Fred usually consisted of her chastising him for polluting the lab's controlled environment with a fug of cigarette smoke. Their quiet absorption was unprecedented. Unable to contain his curiosity any longer, Knox strolled over to where they were hunched in conversation. "So, Spike. I didn't realize you had such an interest in science. Haven't seen you spend so much time here since you were ghosted." Billy tore his gaze away from what Fred was showing him to eye the other man. He was nonplused what his response should be, as he wasn't sure what the other man had said. Then he felt Fred's hand tighten on his arm. Remembering instructions, he sucked in his cheeks and gave the intruder a knowing smirk. "Ya think?" An eyebrow lifted slowly. Knox glanced in surprise between Spike and Fred. So that was the lay of the land, was it? He had plans for the lady himself and he didn't like the idea of some sexed up vampire in the mix. With a huff, he shrugged and walked away. Billy was about to follow the rude man and demand an apology for his abrupt departure on Fred's behalf and an explanation of the ghosted remark on his own, when the lab door opened and Liam and Wesley entered. The afternoon had been interminable for the two men. Liam spent the day glowering from behind Angel's desk while Wesley, much to his chagrin, played the part of court jester. He'd tried in vain to engage Liam's faltering attention. It was very like attempting to amuse a child. His first effort, describing the importance of Angel's role at Wolfram and Hart, failed miserably. Liam was bored. Edited tales of Angel's exploits on behalf of the helpless were more successful. They entertained him for the better part of the day, but gradually his interest waned and a very Angel-like grumpy scowl was focused on Wesley. Liam sat patiently for hour after maddening hour listening to Long Shanks' clacking tongue, until he was fair ready to smash skulls. The sound of it rolled over him like the waves of the ocean blotting out reality for a brief space, containing him inside a hollow bubble, then receding with a rush allowing his thoughts to return. All Wesley's prattle couldn't blot the image from Liam's head of the blonde hussy puttin' her licentious hands all over Billy's body. He'd wanted to snap the shameless slattern into bits of kindling for daring to touch the lad and he would have, by God, but even in his rage at the affront, Liam could see Billy's discomforted rejection of her. It pleased him no end to see a look of near disgust twisting those lovely features when she pawed at him. So, though he'd pulled the wench away, he'd let her go when Gunn made such a blather about it, content he'd chastised her sufficient. He was not quite so sanguine at the thought of Billy closeted with the comely Fred all afternoon. He knew the boy found the lass pleasing and had no doubt she felt the same. Visions of her fondling the boy, rubbing that velvet skull under her small hands set the blood pounding in Liam's ears. He'd not have it if he'd a say in the matter and he'd make damned sure he did. Focusing his gaze on the capering fool bobbing about in front of him, he spoke for the first time in over an hour. "Where's Billy? I'm sick of sitting here playing these Sassenach games. Take me to him or I'll find him meself. I don't like us being separated. I'm thinkin' you're up to no good, the lot of ya." Unable to budge Liam from his demand to see Billy, Wesley gave in with ill grace knowing if he didn't agree, the pig-headed Irishman would hunt Billy down on his own. The course of the day hit its next bump, when Wesley and Liam left the office headed for the lab. A Boromok demon, who'd been waiting hours to speak with Angel, refusing to accept Harmony's excuses, jumped up as they passed by, waving a pair of clawed hands in the big man's face. "I'll have you know, I'm not use to being treated this way. I have an appointment, Angel and I expect your to honor...." Liam growled. He caught the little goblin by the neck and pulled him in close. "Say that again," he parroted, dutifully. Then threw in his own addition. "But, you'd best get out of my face when you do it, ya wee gobshite or I'll rip your small, deformed arms off and shove them up your arse." "Angel!" Wesley shook the Boromok loose from the fingers squeezing his throat, allowing the demon to scurry away, and shoved Liam ahead of him up the hallway, muttering curses as they went. It was this kind of attitude that had gotten them in trouble to begin with. Sometimes, Wesley found himself despairing of their mission. He'd lost the ability to read Angel's motives since they'd come to this place. Granted, Liam wasn't Angel, he seemed a simpler man, but he was just as difficult to parse. The only common denominator in the entire arsed up mess was Spike—Billy. The dark vampire's sense of purpose appeared to have deserted him. Driven by a vast anger, he'd been careening like a loose cannon since Spike had returned from the amulet. The two men were spark and incendiary waiting to ignite. The Powers preserve them all. If it continued much longer, Wolfram and Hart would eat them alive. "Li...Angel, you really must come and see some of the things Fred's been showing me. Truly wonders." Billy strode across the lab, beaming at Liam's arrival, suddenly oblivious to the room's other occupants, who all looked up with interest at Spike's enthusiastic welcome. No one could remember the last time either man spoke to the other without a snarl in their voice. Wesley and Fred exchanged looks of exasperation. It was becoming more evident with each passing moment the men were about to fall out of character. Neither seemed capable of following instructions and keeping their mouths shut. Though God knew, they looked their parts perfectly, when they were together, it was a disaster waiting to happen. "I think we should call it a day." Wesley rubbed his eyes tiredly. "I lost my ability to cope with this about an hour ago and appearances have been preserved." Fred patted his arm affectionately. "Well, Spike and I have had a great time. But, I can see you're exhausted." She smiled at Wesley. "I afraid you got the difficult assignment with Mr. Grumpypants." "If you only knew." They grinned in mutual understanding. "Come along." Wesley lead Billy and Liam out of the lab, Billy only having time to throw one backward glance of apology to Fred before he was hauled through the door. Liam frowned darkly when he saw the exchange. Damned jades. They were everywhere. "I'll take you upstairs, then I'm going home to get extremely drunk." Wesley's last words sounded a good idea to Liam. Once alone in the penthouse, the strain of the day hit both men. Billy folded onto the couch, feeling like a puppet must when loosed from its strings. He sprawled, legs akimbo, eyes shut in exhaustion floating in dreamy musings of all the wonders Fred had revealed to him in the past few hours. At the sounds of Liam pawing about in the cupboards, Billy opened one blue eye. The new clothes suited Liam in a way his own hadn't. Silk molded over the powerful swept of his shoulder, clinging to the arc of his spine as he bent about his mysterious search. The black trousers stretched taut over the hard swell of his buttocks. The sight brought remembrance of the morning rushing back in a flush of heart stuttering heat. "What are you doing, Liam. Come and rest yourself. Surely you're as worn from our masquerade as I?" Billy tried valiantly to keep his inflection normal while attempting to swallow a large lump in his throat. Liam turned from his rummaging with a grin of triumph to hold aloft two glasses and a large bottle. His brown eyes sparkled in a most pleasing way. "Ahhh, now here's the answer to all the ills of the world. There's not a thing a bit of the Irish won't fix. I'll have you back on your feet in no time." Liam silently blessed Wesley for the idea. "A cup of kindness will put the bounce in your step and the iron in your....spine." "What have you there?" Billy was too tired to move or even open his other eyes. Better to close them both than have them run unguarded over Liam's body. "Irish whiskey, makushla., the drink of the Gods themselves." Billy's other eye opened slowly. "The Gods is it? Then pour me a glass, Liam. I've need of a bit of iron in my....spine." "And haven't I seen it?" Liam crooned, as he seated himself beside the boy and poured the amber liquid into the two largest beakers he'd been able to find. "You're worn down to a nub of a man." Memories of the morning, when a near naked Billy had sprawled on the same couch where Liam's arse now nestled, swarmed his head. He extended one glass to the lad, who's loose-limbed body was spread out only an arm's length away. "Drink up. Then we've your lessons to continue." Liam took a large gulp of whiskey to hide his evil smile. Billy coughed harshly as his first sip of whiskey went down the wrong way. When he could breathe again, he looked up to see Liam watching him with a serious face. "What? No. That won't be necessary. You've pronounced me fit and of acceptable....appearance. Really, Liam. I appreciate your efforts, but...." "Now, now lad. Aren't I your true and bosom friend? I've only your best interests at heart. Still a virgin at your age speaks of a need for skills I can help you with, being the generous sort of fellow I am." Billy took a larger swig of his drink this time, feeling it burn a fiery path down his esophagus and explode in a burst of heat deep in his belly. His eyes watered. "Liam, I've no need of such skills, as you called them, for the moment anyway." "We both know that's not exactly the truth of it, me dear. I can see you've a mind to bed the little brown-haired wren." Liam grinned over Billy's protests. "No shame there. She's a tasty mouthful. I'd have her meself if she'd part her knees, but her inclination's set on yourself, lad. Haven't I seen it with my own two eyes?" "No, I'm sure that's not the case." Billy tipped back his glass for a long drink. It didn't burn quite so much this time. "She's a fine lady." "Now, there's your first mistake, Billy. Even fine ladies have a need for a good rogerin' now and again. If Fred is a lady, as you say, then tis even more important that you do things right by her." Billy emptied his tumbler and set it on the low table in front of the couch. Turning to Liam, he frowned, the quick movement making his head feel wobbly. "I know I'm going to regret this, Liam. But what is it you think so urgent I must learn it this very night when I'm quite exhausted with the trials of the day....and a trifle drunk as well?" "Technique, my own dear lad." Liam held up a meaty hand curving his fingers into a loose fist that formed an open hole. "I've yet to show you how to use your lovely prick to pleasure the lasses." Billy's gaze focused on the hand where Liam expected him to put his naked manhood. He shook his head weakly, knowing even as he did it, resistance was futile where the Irishman was concerned. He'd have his way come Hell or highwater. Billy felt the whiskey eating at his resolve even as he endeavored to hold firm for he knew if he put his bare prick between those strong fingers, he would spill himself in a helpless torrent at the first touch. He lifted his gaze to meet Liam's expectant smile. "Oh Christ, Liam."