26 Fics in 26 Minutes

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A story for a song by a band starting with every letter of the alphabet. Ranging from angst to fluff to humour to porn to general whimsy. Encompassing Boosh, RPS, Nathan Barley, Robots in Disguise, and Asylum, and probably a few other things too.

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Length: words

IAMX – Sailor

Contents

IAMX – Sailor

It’s late at night after a gig in which Chris actually plugged Noel’s bass in at one point, and wasn’t too horrified at the results. Julian is there for reasons he can’t quite remember, but it seemed to make sense when he turned up in the crowd and handed them both a glass of champagne, grinning and slinging an arm around Noel’s waist.

Chris is sitting up on Noel’s double bed, back at the hotel room, slumped down so that it’s only his shoulders that are touching the wall, uncomfortable in that good way. Julian is on the floor with the bottle of whatever they could find, something amber and bitter and very Barratt. Noel is hanging half off the bed, upside down. Chris can’t quite understand why Noel is upside down, but it has a little to do with the alcohol and a little to do with his strange variety of exhibitionism. Liquid drips from the glass he’s attempting to drink from the wrong way up, and he giggles, eyes flicking from Julian to Chris like a child at a party. Chris smiles fondly, but Julian’s expression has something more malicious in it. Something darker. He swigs from the bottle, and something passes between the two of them that Chris can’t follow, all eyes and body language and secret signs. A cold breeze brushes over his open mouth and he shivers, wondering if he ought to leave. Wondering if he can leave.

“Chris,” Noel says, turned to him, his voice all high in his throat from being the wrong way up.

“Noel.”

“Have you ever wanted to be a sailor?”

Julian chokes on his drink, and Chris rolls his eyes a little – private jokes. But Noel’s eyes on him are persistent, and he twists his head to the side, rolling it against the plaster behind his neck, thinking. “I wanted to be a ballerina, once. When I was five.”

Noel chuckles, and seems to come to a decision, letting his arm fall towards the floor and trying to put his glass down. He’s dangerously close to tipping it over when Julian leans forward, takes it from him, rests it gently on the carpet next to him. Their fingers brush against each other for a fraction of a second, but Julian watches him and not Noel.

Noel sits up, his hair sticking out at an odd angle before he runs a hand over it hastily. He perches on the edge of the bed, arms behind him, and watches Chris. “But did you ever want to be a sailor?“

There’s a neat line between the three of them, Julian to Noel to Chris, wall to wall.

Chris finishes off his drink, puts the glass down on the little bedside table harder than he means to. “I suppose. I like the hats. And the musicals.”

Noel smiles slowly, stands up. “Because. If you like. I can teach you how to be a sailor.”

“We can teach you,” Julian says quickly from behind him, and Noel’s eyes unfocus a little in a way that means he wants to turn around but doesn’t, that this is something unexpected.

Then he grins, suddenly excited. “We can teach you.”

Chris looks up at him through his fringe, somehow managing to stay calm despite his heart beating a mile a minute. “Do I get a hat?”

Noel crawls onto the bed in front of him, sitting up on his heels. “No. But you might get to sing.”

Noel has a smudge of eyeliner at the corner of his mouth left over from the gig, and right about now it’s very easy for Chris to just reach out and flick it away with his thumb, a dark smear tracing a path to his left cheek. Noel’s eyes duck to his lips, and he leans in, Chris tipping his head to one side to make it easier. Soft mouth on his, girlish almost. A hand on his shoulder gripping too tight, for balance.

Nothing happens, and it’s with an almost comical inner sigh that he realises if anything’s going to get done around here, he’s going to have to be the one to do it. He pulls Noel closer with one hand on the back of his head, and uses the motion to push forward with his tongue, sweeping past teeth that taste of ash. Noel just holds on, letting Chris do what he wants, no resistance. It’s irritating, maybe.

And everyone fancies Noel on some level, because everyone does. It’s a thing, like breathing. But Chris has always, always been more intrigued by Julian. Julian who he doesn’t see as often, but who Noel never stops talking about. Julian, who is a better musician, but when Chris asked him to be in the band, to do a sort of walk-on performance in IAMX, turned him down. Twice. So he kisses Noel hard, not letting his hands sink below his neck just yet, and it’s less about kissing Noel than it is about showing Julian something. Like eating a strawberry slowly, seductively. Chris’ eyes are closed, but there’s a rustling sound over by the wall that means something, and he slips from Noel’s mouth to his cheek and neck so he can peer through his hair and see what’s happening.

Julian’s up, feigning disinterest. Chris sucks on Noel’s neck, making him moan and his hands flutter expertly over Chris’ back in a way they never do when he’s playing, and watches Julian as he very slowly, almost theatrically takes a swig from the bottle, not looking at them. As he steps out of his shoes and takes off his watch, for all the world like he’s getting ready for a game of tennis.

One of Noel’s hands leaves Chris’ back, and he holds it up over his shoulder, behind him, like he’s asking for a drink. “Ju,” he moans hoarsely.

And Julian’s there instantly, hand around Noel’s wrist tight, kissing the other side of his neck. Chris can see his dark head of hair bobbing away, the curve of his back. Julian’s hand slips down Noel’s wrist to his arm, and to his waist, and Chris makes a couple of mental calculations and reaches around, the hem of Noel’s T-shirt soft under his fingers.

Noel’s head is thrown back, eyes closed, so he doesn’t see the look that Julian gives Chris as their fingers brush together. There’s a painful moment of silence, broken only by Noel’s deep breathing, and then Julian ducks his head again and links their hands half-heartedly. Chris gets stupidly angry, what is this, junior school? Fuck this.

He pulls his hand away, and there’s no sign that Julian knows or has even noticed, his fingers splayed out across Noel’s belly, Noel leaning now more towards Julian. Chris sits up properly, lets go, and Noel opens one eye.

Both hands on Noel’s T-shirt, Chris pulls hard. Julian has no choice but to disentangle himself, lean away, as fabric lifts up and over and Noel is now bare-chested. Chris doesn’t look at Julian at all, reserves his most intense look for Noel, who smiles slowly, tongue flicking out to wet his lips. Julian is somewhere there too, but the connection is now absolutely Noel and Chris, and Chris darts forward, taking hold of Noel with both hands and pushing him onto his back, kissing him hard. Pushing him down into the bed, feeling cheap sheets rise around them as he literally forces Noel deeper into the mattress.

Noel’s attention is firmly on him, one hand tugging at the bottom of Chris’ shirt, but the other is half-hearted, half-up in the air and waiting for Julian to take it. Which he can’t. Or he can, but it means being part of this as a threesome, and not as a couple-plus-one. Chris is kissing Noel, letting hands drift down towards his waistband carefully, but his attention is all behind him. Waiting for something, anything.

There’s a slamming sound, and he sits up a little, eyes on the door. Please don’t let Julian have walked out, because Noel is nice and an evening with him would pass the time, but it’s not his goal, his aim. It’s not what he wants, ideally.

Julian’s behind him. There’s a hand up and under his shirt, a mouth wet on his neck, and another hand – Julian’s hand slips down to his crotch and unbuttons his trousers, and suddenly who is it he’s straddling again? He can’t remember, there’s just Julian’s hand slipping inside, cupping him, teasing through the fabric of his underwear.

Julian’s mouth slips up to his ear. “Make room.” A promise and a threat. He can see Noel underneath him, blinking up at them both, sees his own hand on Noel’s shoulder, holding him down.

Julian’s gone, and he takes the hint, lifting one leg up and over and kneeling next to Noel instead, some perverted Christmas scene. Julian on the other side, mirroring him, and his eyes are careful, giving nothing away. Julian reaches out for him, pulls them together, and finally, over Noel, up on his elbows and grinning because he doesn’t understand, finally they kiss.

It’s opposites and alternatives. Julian is stubbled where Noel is smooth, rough where he is passive, not resigning himself to one long passionate kiss but instead a series of open-mouth, wet gasps, teeth and tongue everywhere. Every time Chris moves to catch him, he isn’t there any more, somehow, but his mouth is, swift and painful on Chris’. One of Julian’s hands is on the back of Chris’ neck, fingers rubbing slightly, but when Chris reaches out for the other he finds it on Noel. On Noel’s zip.

He gets a little dizzying rush of anger like, oh, that’s what this is? I can do that. I can. And his spare hand reaches out to Noel’s face, blindly, brushing against his cheek and his lips. Noel is already moaning from Julian’s hand inside his jeans, it doesn’t take much persuasion for him to start sucking on Chris’ fingers like a whore.

Julian stops kissing him, and pulls back. There’s so much emotion in the room Chris can’t work out whether they’re fucking or fighting. Strange half-cues, and they both take off their tops, like a race or a competition, but it’s Chris who gets to Noel’s mouth first, leaving Julian sitting up, stroking Noel’s crotch, hand brushing against Chris’ side where he and Noel are pressed skin to skin.

And then. Noel gets a stupid fucking impulse to actually involve himself in the whole thing, rather than lying there like a rag doll, and twists. He grips with his thighs, and turns them both, moving so that he’s sitting on Chris, who is now flat on his back. Chris doesn’t want to go, but there’s an extra hand nudging at his side, rolling him over, and he can guess who that is.

Noel’s jeans are half off him now, denim rubbing painfully on Chris’ legs, his own trousers pooled around his ankles from where Noel has pushed them down. Julian settles himself behind Noel, nails raking over his back, as Noel reaches down and takes hold of Chris’ cock, Julian’s head on his back.

Julian to Noel. Noel to Chris.

No.

Chris struggles to sit up, but Noel’s hand is firm – the one fucking time the boy decides to actually be proactive and it could not be worse – and he hears the slick wet sounds of lube being smeared onto Julian’s hand. Noel rears up, back arching as Julian enters him with one finger, hand pulling up Chris’s cock as he goes. Everyone gasps.

Julian mutters something into Noel’s ear as he pushes in again, eyes firm on Chris’. Noel’s eyes flutter closed and his head tips back onto Julian’s shoulder, hands close around Chris and careful to go with Julian’s rhythm. Everything from Julian, but he feels so distanced, Chris reaches up and around to pull Julian closer to Noel and closer to him but can’t reach.

Noel moans, a strange spluttered cough as Julian slips into him, whispering into his ear, and they move together, Julian rocking against Noel and Noel’s cock bumping against Chris’ as he strokes him in time. A few false starts but no one said Noel was musical. Chris’ thighs are hot and uncomfortable where both Noel and Julian are resting on them, not even skin, both still wearing their trousers, rubbing against his bare legs. He can’t hear anything except Noel’s moans and Julian’s mutterings, and it’s not fair. It’s not how it should be.

He’s rushing towards the edge but can’t tell whether it’s anger or lust that’s pushing him, hands slipping against Noel’s sides but somehow managing never to meet Julian’s, catching his eyes once or twice but never in a way that actually recognise him being there.

Someone calls “Julian!” as they tip over the edge.

Afterwards, Noel heads almost immediately to the shower, never able to stand being sticky for too long. Chris hears the water run as he searches for his clothes on the floor.

Julian is already stepping out of his trousers, glistening obscenely in the light.

“I’ll use the shower in my room,” Chris mutters.

Julian meets his eyes, dark and cold, and then… there’s something, he glances at the floor and his eyes soften. He takes a step towards Chris and kisses him on the lips gently, gives him a small smile.

“Thanks.”

As the ensuite door closes, Chris seeks out Noel’s designer top to wipe himself down with.