Chain Lightning

Chapter three

How to Build a Lightning Rod


And soon the sparks scatter and wind whips the flame,
And love will soon shatter what it cannot tame,
And the cycle continues, from life into dust,
For I am now in you with the fire of lust.
And I hear the explosion, of thunder and rain,
The water is falling, the ashes remain.

It's like chain lightning, this love that I feel.
Who knows where it strikes, or when it will hit,
How long it will last, or when it will quit.



‘Stubborn bastards,’ thought Viggo. Such a waste of life to throw something like this aside. They were lost, totally lost. Not a clue. Well, maybe he could draw them a map. He grinned to himself. This was the part of being an artist that was fun, sculpting the hopelessly human part of people, manipulating them to make a thing that held some form of beauty. Or something like it. He picked up his phone. He had both of their numbers on speed dial, so this wouldn’t take long.

And Billy was still sitting alone at his table, staring at his cold porridge, and Sweet Jesus, how long had he been sitting here? He didn’t get so much time off that he shouldn’t be enjoying it. So why was he still sitting here thinking about Sean and that damned small, secret smile and that smell and those arms and, and, and FUCK!

His phone chirped, making him almost jump right out of his skin.

“Ah, h-hello?” his voice sounded raspy in his ears, his mouth was dry, dry as ashes.

“Billy!”

“Viggo.”

“Come over? I’ve got something to show you.”

“What?”

“Just come over. You’ll see.” And click.

Damned Viggo. Damned off-the-fucking-wall Viggo. But Billy didn’t want to just sit here, sit here thinking, thinking about Sean and his fucking little secret smile and his smell and his arms and, and, and, fuck. He’d go. He’d go to Viggo’s, maybe get drunk. He got up and left, so preoccupied that he didn’t think to bring his coat and didn’t even think about not thinking about it until he was nearly there, he didn’t think of it because he was thinking about Sean and shaking and damn, was he too warm or too cold? Billy was having a hard time thinking straight. Thinking straight? No, his thoughts were not exactly straight, now, were they? Not where Sean was concerned. He shook his head as if to do so would shake Sean out of his head.

Sean sat slumped in his chair. He was sitting there slumping in his chair and stewing in his own juices, thinking about Viggo, stewing in his juices thinking about Viggo saying he wanted to pinch Billy’s ass to see if it would pop, because it was such a perfect little bubble of an ass. He thought about Viggo pinching Billy’s ass and his heart felt heavy, dark, shot through, as though it was a dark cloud filled with lightening. The thought of Viggo pinching Billy’s ass made dark thoughts roll through his head like thunder.

He thought of his arms around Billy those many months ago, and how Billy had squeaked, squeaked just like the little hobbit he was, and Sean found he was grinning, grinning to himself like a fucking idiot. Then he thought of how Billy had tipped his head back and looked up, looked up and looked into his eyes and suddenly the grin vanished.

And the thunder rolled inside his skull and echoed and resonated like a great drum, or was that his heart? The phone rang and he pressed it to his ear. Maybe the call would silence the thunder. But his hopes in that regard were soon dashed.

Dashed all to hell, because it was Billy. It was Billy, and Billy was sounding just a little drunk. More than a little drunk. Thunder rolled in Sean’s skull.

“Hhhi Sssean. ‘M at Vig, Viggo’sss. J’wanna c’me ov-ov-over?”

“Billy? Had much to drink, mate?”

“Yeah. Yeah. Pissssed out of my ssskull.”

“Really? How would anyone know?” Sean was smiling, smiling because that voice, that little voice had a way of crawling into his ear like a little squirrel and curling up in his brain, all snuggly and warm. Thinking of Billy curled up all snuggly and warm did something to Sean, shot through his middle and turned into something hot, something that threw off sparks, something that threatened to ignite.

“Sean? Sean? C’mon-nover, mate. I’m too pissssed to drive anyway. Vig go says. That is.” Then there was a little squeak, a hobbity little squeak. “Viv-viggo, ssstop. Sean.”

“What?”

“Viggo just pinched my arse,” said Billy in a hushed voice, as though someone might overhear, sounding for the entire world like a child tattling. And maybe, just maybe in a way he was, and maybe, just maybe he sounded suddenly not quite so drunk.

Thunder crashed in Sean’s head. His heart became positively black, positively black and now the lightening that shot through it was chain lightening, and suddenly he was burning on the inside, his chest and bowels positively boiling with anger.

“Tell him I said hands fucking off.”

“Viggo, Sean says hands fucking off. Sean? Viggo says tell you I have nice teeth. He says a lot of things, Sean.”

“Billy, are you okay?”

“N-not really.”

“Billy?”

“Sean.” Billy sounded plaintive, sounded like a little boy, throwing Sean’s protective urges into something like turbo-drive.

“Right!” said Sean. “I’ll be right there.”

And he was out of the door and he was in his car and he was flying back to Viggo’s and then he was out of his car and he was running to Viggo’s door and it was like everything was in slow motion and why couldn’t he get to the door fast enough? And then he was there, and not bothering to knock, he burst in.

He burst in and there was Viggo, leaning over Billy and showing him photos, photos of Sean, in fact. Viggo looked sidewise at Sean and winked. Viggo’s lips were close to Billy’s cheek. Viggo’s lips were very close to Billy’s cheek and Billy looked so drunk and Billy looked maybe just a little uncomfortable and Sean’s blood boiled. Sean’s blood boiled and thunder rolled in his head and more than lightening struck in his heart, fucking chain lightening struck in his heart.

Chain lightening struck in his heart and sparks flew, and Viggo was like a wind that fanned the flames, and the flames grew and suddenly Sean was seeing red. Sean was seeing red and suddenly and without quite knowing how, he had Billy by the wrist and was pulling him up on unsteady feet because Billy was more than just drunk, more than pissed, he was absolutely skullfucked. Billy was skullfucked so Sean threw Billy over his shoulder, nodded to Viggo, who was grinning, his arms crossed over his chest and Viggo was smirking, smirking and leering with this fucking triumphant look on his face.

“We absolutely will talk about this later, Viggo.” Sean said, his throat tight as his chest. Viggo just laughed and held the door open for Sean and waved goodbye to him, and Billy, draped over Sean’s shoulder, waved drunkenly at Viggo. Billy laughed and waved drunkenly at Viggo, and Sean knew, he just fucking knew Billy’s nose was crinkled up in that way that was just fucking damnably adorable. Sean carried Billy to his car. He propped Billy up long enough to open the passenger-side door and then deposited Billy in the seat.

“Here we go, little hobbit.” Sean said, and Billy…. Billy smiled. Billy smiled and suddenly thunder boomed in his entire chest now as well as his skull and chain lightening scorched his heart and Billy was such a little thing, such a little but perfect thing and Viggo was not going to touch him like that, damn his manipulative artistic meddling rat bastard arse.

Sean buckled Billy in and that’s how he found out Billy was soaked, soaked to the skin.

“Christ, Billy, how did you get so wet?” asked Sean. As if he couldn’t guess.

“Viggo did it. He spilled a whole glass of water on me just before you got here. And he pinched my arse. He said he wanted to see if it would pop like a bubble. Why did he do that? Sean, why did he say that?”

“Who knows, little hobbit,” Sean said, trying not to smile. Damnably adorable little drunk bastard.

Sean slammed Billy’s door, strode around to the driver’s side door, got in, buckled up and peeled rubber. Damn Viggo. Damn Viggo to hell. He knew how cold it was, and Sean hadn’t seen Billy’s jacket and he knew Billy was little, just a little thing, and he didn’t have so much body mass and would get chilled easily and Viggo fucking well knew Billy lived further away than Sean did and Sean had no choice, he had to get Billy dry and warm. Dry and warm made him think of Billy curled up all cozy and warm like a little squirrel and it did things to Sean, thinking of Billy like that.

He pulled into his drive, got out, opened Billy’s door, unbuckled him and pulled him up, only to have to steady the drunken little shit three times, so Sean just hefted Billy once more over one shoulder and carried him in. He propped Billy against the door-post, unlocked his door and carried Billy in and put him on the sofa, then went to his closet and pulled out a nice, thick sweatshirt.

He went back to the sofa, made Billy sit up, pulled his shirt off and put on the dry one. Billy flopped back down. With that big shirt of Sean’s on, he looked smaller than ever, he looked like a kid. Sean felt the protective urge rise up and roar in his head, almost drowning out the thunder.

“Sean?”

“Yes?”

“I’m sorry.”

“Think nothing of it, you’d do the same for me, wouldn’t you?”

“Oh,” Billy said, trying to focus on Sean. “Not that. I’m sorry for…”

“Billy?”

“Nothing.”

“Billy?”

“Okay, I’m sorry for not being…”

“What, Billy?”

“Hot like Orli. Or pretty like ‘Lige. Or sexy like Dom.”

“Billy?”

“Christ, I must be disgusting.”

“Billy?”

“I must just be horrible plain disgusting boring old Billy.”

“Billy?”

“Because if I wasn’t me, if I was hot like Orli or pretty like ‘Lige or sexy like Dom you would have done something by now. It’s been months and months and you haven’t done anything. Besides stand there and say my name.”

“Billy!” Sean said. Why couldn’t he say anything but Billy’s name? It was like his brain had suddenly turned to wood.

“I shouldn’t have said anything. Forget it.”

Sean stooped by the sofa, feeling like Boromir stooping before Pippin. He shook his head. He rested a hand lightly on Billy’s shoulder. And then he found himself saying the damnedest thing. “You are not, repeat not horrible plain disgusting boring old Billy.”

“I’m not?” Billy finally focused his eyes. His brows drew down and with those big bright Christ! Those are great eyes those brows have drawn down on. Like a fucking lunar eclipse were those eyes. Sean felt like a netted fish, looking into those eyes. “You’re just saying that. You really don’t mean that.” Billy finished.

“I do mean that,” said Sean, his voice low and oh yes, unctuous.

“Yeah. Yeah, right.” Billy swallowed hard.

“You are not horrible plain disgusting boring old Billy. You’re hot and pretty and sexy and more. You’re Billy, and that’s a lot.”

“Oh, great, either you’re being totally insincere or you’re making fun of me. I’m just horrible plain disgusting boring old Billy.” Billy swallowed hard and damn it he tried hard not to, but he started to cry. Great. Just fucking great. “And drunk and maudlin.”

“No.” said Sean.

“No? No?” When Billy said ‘no’ his mouth with it’s perfectly luscious little upper lip made a perfect ‘O’.

Sean laid his palm against the curve of Billy’s cheek and wiped away a tear with his thumb, letting it slide softly across Billy’s cheek.

Billy propped himself up on one elbow and Sean could see the shirt was almost comical on him, comical but somehow very endearing as well. It made his small, clever-looking hands look all the more clever and small.

Billy sat propped up on one elbow, his mouth slack, robbed of speech. How could he want something so badly if he was so terrified of it? Sean took that big warm hand away, and he was looking Billy right in the eye as he raised his thumb to his mouth and the tip of his tongue flicked out and collected the tear. And then the big warm hand came back and cupped his face softly and Sean oh so slowly leaned over him and Billy suddenly couldn’t breath so well, and oh. My. God. Sean kissed a tear from each cheek. He drew back and watched for Billy’s response a moment.

Then, satisfied of something he saw in Billy’s demeanor, he said, “Oh, look. One is trying to get away. It’s just… ” Sean leaned closer. “Right… ” A little closer, and then his lips were just to the right of Billy’s lips, and he said, voice so low and deep it vibrated the corner of Billy’s mouth, “Here.”

And Sean kissed the last tear away from just to the right of Billy’s mouth, and damn it all to hell, what was Sean going to think now, because Billy gave the softest little hobbity squeak. Sean’s mouth slid just a little and kissed the corner of Billy’s mouth.

“Is this alright?” asked Sean, drawing back a little so he could see those eyes.

Billy was struck dumb, but he gave Sean a nod.

“You taste of single malt.” Sean said.

“Single. Malt.” Billy said.

“Yeah,” Sean said. “I’ll have a drink of Billy, I think.”

And he leaned in once more and kissed Billy’s Most Kissable Top Lip, then moved and adjusted just a little and gave Billy a full-on kiss. And Billy’s heart did a sword dance, and the chain lightening quickened in Sean and the kiss was a long, deep, warm, wet one. Billy opened his mouth just a little, uncertain if he was doing all that well, apparently, because he was trembling. Sean put one arm behind Billy’s shoulders and pulled him closer, still cupping Billy’s chin. Sean tested and tasted Billy, waiting until he felt Billy really relaxing, opening up to the kiss before he slipped his tongue slowly along Billy’s upper lip, then lower lip, and then oh yes inside and Sweet Jesus but Sean was a great kisser.

Thunder rolled, but now it was outside. A storm was brewing. A storm was brewing outside of Sean’s house, but inside it was all chain lightening. Sean managed to squeeze onto the sofa along with Billy and continued kissing Billy, Billy with his small but perfect body and his small clever hands because oh yes, they felt so good with their fingers curling into the thick muscles of Sean’s shoulders as Sean kissed Billy with his Most Kissable Top Lip and his big, bright, beautiful lunar eclipse eyes and his perfect little bubble of an ass. And Sean had to admit to himself that damned Viggo with his damned artistic nature certainly knew how to build a lightening rod.