Title: The Only Time
Fandom: View Askewniverse
Pairing: Jay/Silent Bob
Rating: NC-17 for homosexuality, language, semi-explicit descriptions
Status: New. I gotta start changing the status on these things on 
m'page...
Archive: Yeah, yeah, wherever. :>
Feedback: kel@crazysheep.net
Series/Sequel: Maybe. Not sure yet.
Disclaimer: Scared to say anything after VA5 knocked the wind right 
out of me. Please, Mr. Smith, don't hurt this poor slasher, we only 
mean the highest of tributes to your alter-ego and the fictive li'l 
Sonic Boom.
Notes: I have a cousin like this. She gets real drunk and jumps 
people and then either forgets the next day or tells everyone to piss 
off. Not that I could stand *that* kind of an ending...Written to 
repeat action of Cold's latest album, "13 Ways to Bleed on Stage" and 
Matchbox 20's "Mad Season". Don't normally mention that, but I 
thought it was an odd mix for this tale.
Summary: Bob discovers alcohol impairs judgement. :>
Warnings: Um, booze gets you into trouble? Oh, story warnings. 
Mention of het sex; it doesn't feature the boys, but it's there. 
Overuse of the word 'crotch'. And maybe 'motherfucker'. And it's a 
song fic, so if you hate those, don't go any farther. And there's a 
nice little fear-and-trepidation angle. This sucker morphed on me in 
some really weird ways, and there's no spellchecker on WordPad, which 
is all this comp's got, and my left eye is now watering which is 
cocking up vision. SO THERE MAY BE TYPOS. BITE ME. Other that 
that, mostly it's plain smarmy smuttyfic. Which is bad enough in 
some quarters. Damn, but having a job slows m'writing down. :>

"The Only Time"
by Kelandris

Bob was drunk again. Third time this month. Normally, he drank beer 
to take the edge off, smoked pot to relax, had a little vodka now and 
then to reinforce the illusion of control. He was pretty good about 
encouraging Jay to do the same, by virtue of bringing him the beers 
and the odd vodka and water, ice clinking heavily in the glasses. 
The pot Jay smoked himself. Bob just helped.

On the other hand, it wasn't like getting Jay to do much of 
*anything* was difficult--the blond's never-met-a-drug-he-didn't-like 
attitude made him dead easy to convince. Bob could get him to agree 
to just...about...anything...

Bob blinked rapidly, drinking more vodka. Mustn't get carried away. 
Mustn't lose control. And look at him tonight, sloppy drunk fat man, 
ass on a couch that was tattooed with the imprint of his ass cheeks 
already. Seen him here too many nights, too many beers, too many 
vodkas, too much pot. And too much Jay. Tonight he was working on 
his fifth vodka after three beers, and now he was contemplating where 
in his room he'd stashed those little bottles of Bushmill's, 
Glenlivet and Tullamore Dew. It was dangerous--he knew what happened 
when he drank whiskey--but Jay was dancing tonight, dancing in front 
of him, and his famed control was slipping, slipping away.

*"I'm drunk
and right now I'm so in love with you
and I don't want to think too much
about what I should and shouldn't do"*

"Feelin' the need, feelin' the need," Jay chanted again and again. 
He swiveled his hips, running his hands through his hair, then down 
his lean frame to cup his crotch sugestively.

"Yeah, time to look at some titties!"

He sank to his knees on the carpet, rummaging thorugh their 
collection of porn, and Bob just watched him through narrowed eyes. 
He could see the muscles move and tense along Jay's lean back, the 
cloth of the faded black t-shirt he wore nearly transparent in spots 
from age. And that long fall of honey-gold hair, loose from the 
black knit cap Jay'd worn all day, made his hands twitch and his 
mouth flood with juice. Jay's intent expression, eyes dancing over 
well-thumbed cases, nearly made Bob mad with want. Too much, too 
dangerous.

Wanting Jay. Wanting Jay's mouth. Wanting Jay's mouth on his. 
Wanting. Wanting.

*"lay my hands on heaven and the sun and the moon and the stars
while the devil wants to fuck me in the back of his car
nothing quite like the feel of something new"*

His hands trembled as he sloshed more vodka into his glass, and 
replaced the bottle on the coffee table. Silence wasn't all that 
useful right now, he mused. Oh, it had gained him a good rep, and 
he'd done some interesting things because of it. But mostly it was a 
shield, and right now, it was shielding him from Jay.

"Mmm...'Deep Dicking 6' or 'Anal Sluts: Hard'n'Fast'...Whaddya think, 
Lunchbox? Or maybe you just wanna fall on your fat knees and worship 
my three-piece set, huh? Want it hard'n'fast in your mouth?"

He began to thrust his hips into the air, and Bob's mouth went dry as 
Jay's hand came down, guiding an invisible head towards his crotch.

It wasn't fair, he thought. What he wanted was far too close to 
Jay's constant taunts for either of their good. What he wanted was 
to lean over, grab the tape out of Jay's hands, and throw him over 
the table onto the couch. Throw him down and tear that ancient tee 
off him in rapidly unraveling strips, shuck his shorts down to the 
floor, and dive on all that sweet pale flesh, licking, sucking, 
biting. Lap his way down, collarbone to inner thighs, and when he 
was ready, begging for him, begging for *Bob*, then leaning down and 
sucking on something he'd only seen in brief glimpses in all the time 
they'd lived together.

Brief shots of Jay coming out of the shower tortured him, silver 
water gleaming on Jay's heat-flushed skin. Brief memories of looking 
over during videos, seeing Jay stroking himself, lost in the moment. 
Brief memories of peering around corners, watching Jay thrusting 
mindlessly into some anonymous chickie's ready mouth, head thrown 
back in ecstasy while his eyes fluttered under closed lids. Thinking 
of what, Bob always wondered. Thinking of someone else entirely? 
Thinking of...him?

*"maybe I'm all messed up
maybe I'm all messed up
maybe I'm all messed up in you"*

"Oh, yeah, bitch, suck it, suck it, you know you want it you gay 
fuck..." Jay looked up at the last to find Bob peering resentfully 
at the vodka bottle. He gave a loud sigh, leaning over to tap the 
bottle. It rang jarringly in Bob's hand. Bob looked up.

"You are, just maybe, too drunk to enjoy this. But I will enlighten 
your sorry drunken state. Now move over, tons'o'fun, I wanna sit 
down!"

He rose, popped the tape in, muttering "Yeah, bitch, spread them 
cheeks *wide* open," under his breath. He grabbed the remote and 
plunked down next to Bob, fast forwarding to the moment everyone was 
nude and moving. His face went slack, watching women huddled in a 
circle, sucking off men one by one. Off to the side, one woman was 
bent over for another the other's hands in two places and moving in 
and out. Her cries overcame the others as her entire body shuddered 
at the talented invaders.

Dangerous, dangerous, and Bob's control was slipping. He looked 
over, and Jay was unzipping his shorts, reaching in and massaging 
something he could already see the outline of. Slowly he brought the 
length of long pale flesh out, and Bob blinked, looking away. It was 
too much, he thought, gasping. Too much, too much and there wasn't 
enough vodka anymore.

It was at the precise moment the first anal slut bent over to take 
her chosen male that Bob snapped. His eyes flicked away from the 
screen again, snagging on the sight of Jay's now hard cock in the 
grip of his left hand, and immediately turned, sinking to his knees 
on the stiff industrial carpet. He threw his cap across the room, 
barely registering the dull ping it made when it hit the tv screen, 
and knocked Jay's hand away from his crotch. Before he could 
reconsider, he leaned down, popping the head into his mouth and 
curling his tongue around the tip.

"Mother*fuck!*" Jay screamed. His hips bucked forward and his hands 
flew into Bob's silky dark hair, caressing his scalp, his ears, the 
back of his neck. Bob shivered, but kept sucking Jay in, inch by 
twitching inch.

*"maybe I'm all messed up
but this is the only time I feel really alive
this is the only time I feel really alive"*

"Ahh...*fuck!*" the blond hissed. Jay jerked forward again, sliding 
deeper into Bob's mouth. Now Bob was swallowing against the length 
of him, hands clenched in the cushions of the couch on either side.

"Uhh, yeah," he heard Jay moan. "Oh yeah, bitch, c'mon, c'mon, like 
that...Mother*fuck* but you got a sweet mouth, yeah..." He gasped 
now, a high strained sound, as Bob pulled off him, tongue swirling in 
intricate patterns along the underside, along the vein.

Jay's hips shot forward as he threw his head back, crying out.

"Motherfucker, you stop now I will fuckin' *kill* you, man!"

Bob only shook his head, sucking in the tip again, sucking down inch 
by slow inch while Jay squirmed on the couch. On the screen, an 
Asian girl sat impaled on an ebony cock nearly the length of her 
forearm and almost as wide across. She was uttering small little 
cries that could have been pain or pleasure. They grew louder as her 
partner began to move inside her.

Jay began to gasp in time to her moans, and Bob spared a glance for 
the tv screen. They both knew this tape by heart--Bob because Jay 
played it a *lot*, and Jay played this part over and over.

"Oh yeah," he whimpered now. "Oh yeah, oh yeah, fuck yeah...c'mon, 
deeper, bitch, deeper, come *on*..."

Bob pulled his mouth from Jay a second time, one eyebrow quirking 
up. The thought had crossed his mind so quickly it had nearly 
escaped. Now Bob grabbed the glass of vodka behind him, downing it 
and drowning all avenues of escape. Then he rose on his knees, 
grabbing Jay and flipping him over. As quick as he could with his 
straining erection, he unzipped as Jay squawked in protest, 
struggling. Bob leaned forward, pressing against Jay, licking the 
lobe of his ear.

"I thought you wanted this," he whispered unsteadily. Jay shivered, 
his hands reaching out to clench the top of the couch.

"Oh God..." he breathed.

*"I swear
I just found everything I need
the sweat in your eyes
the blood in your veins
are listening to me"*

And Bob reached down, wishing suddenly for lube, even though he was 
dripping in pre-cum that he began to rub in. Inhaling sharply, he 
positioned himself behind Jay, tracing a hand down the blond's 
suddenly sweat-sheened back.

"Bob...fuck..."

Jay's voice was as small, as low as Bob had ever heard it, and it 
made his heart skip a beat. The hand trailing down Jay's spine 
reached the cleft of his ass, and he brought the other hand up to 
part his cheeks. His cock naturally found the spot he wanted, and he 
pushed, sudden resistance making him stop breathing. Jay clenched, 
whimpering into the couch.

"Shh," he whispered. "Relax."

"...scared..."

Scared? *His* Jay, scared? Scared of this? Scared of him? He 
exhaled slowly, closing his eyes, and inhaled, one long shaking 
breath. Okay. Okay. He had to deal with this. Slowly he pulled 
away, biting his lip when he was no longer touching Jay's naked 
flesh, then he turned the younger man, folding Jay into his arms. 
For a long moment the blond was all stiff angles and muscle tension, 
then with a shudder he melted.

"Bob fuck Bob I never I never I didn't mean I never meant I didn't 
want you to think I didn't want to I didn't it wasn't like I never I 
never I--"

Tilting his head up, Bob leaned in, silencing the stream of 
breathless words with a kiss. It was chaste only for a moment, and 
then Jay groaned, pressing against Bob in a sudden surge. His tongue 
fought Bob's lips open, fighting to get inside his mouth, fighting to 
get past the teeth that Bob hadn't moved yet out of utter shock. And 
then it was in, Jay's tongue tangling around his, tugging, licking, 
and he could taste salt and fire, ashes and beer in his kiss.

And then Jay was struggling to kick off his shorts, cursing them when 
they snarled around his black Doc's, kicking them free with a 
crumpled paper sound of torn seams. He reached down, grabbing the 
front of his shirt, tearing it off as well, and then proceeded to 
shred Bob's tee from him, breathing hard. He looked almost angry, 
driven, but nothing mattered when Jay drove against Bob's hips and he 
felt how much harder Jay had gotten. Then Jay was cursing him, Bob, 
the makers of Big Boy jeans as he fought to get Bob's pants off, and 
kick off his shoes.

"Motherfuckin' whore, you could help me here...Christ, dude!"

Panting, he reached for the vodka bottle, raising his hips as he did, 
so Jay could reach under and pull his pants and shorts down. After 
that it just took a few kicks to knock his shoes to the floor, his 
jeans, and watch as Jay tugged off his socks. He had just taken 
another straight sip of vodka when Jay scrambled up his body again, 
thrusting hard and fast against him. White fire sheeted over his 
brain and he dropped the bottle, whimpering and gasping.

"Yeah, do that *again*, motherfucker...I gots your number now! Say 
my motherfuckin' *name*, bitch!"

Jay thrust forward again, their cocks rubbing against each other, 
slippery delightful friction of the sensitive skins. Bob arched on 
the couch, Jay leaning onto him, pressing him against the cushions, 
full weight writhing over every inch of Bob he could cover.

"Oh fuck," Bob gasped. "Jay...oh my God, Jay--*aah!*"

*"and I want to drink it up and swim in it until I drown
my moral standing is lying down
nothing quite like the feel of something new

*"maybe I'm all messed up
maybe I'm all messed up
maybe I'm all messed up in you"*

Bob trembled, arching, feeling Jay's hands everywhere on him. Here 
they stroked behind an ear, here they twisted a nipple, making him 
scream. Here they reached down, cupped his balls, stroked his cock, 
scratched down his inner thighs, laughter filling the air when he 
brought his legs up on either side of Jay and squeezed.

"Yeah, baby, *talk* to me, you aren't getting off that easy--" And 
Jay reached down, pinching the head of his penis, and that lovely 
warm melty orgasm that was beginning to wash over him stopped dead.

He moaned, wondering who the hell this was and where his Jay had 
gone. Where his homophobic, trash-talking, abusive friend had gone, 
and how this thrusting, shining, gloriously wicked lover had come 
into being. Meanwhile, he heard his mouth babbling any thought that 
crossed the brain, no control left, no desire to fence it back. 
Endearments, curses, words that weren't even English fell out of 
him. He was mortified.

"*Lyubimyj, lyubimyj,*" he whispered over and over as Jay's hand 
slipped away from him, slipped around the back of his neck. He 
stared into Jay's wide blue eyes, feeling the build begin again, and 
this time Jay was nodding, looking surprised and a little scared, and 
then his entire body clenched as he spasmed, lifting Jay off the 
couch as he spurted warm fluid between their bellies, crying Jay's 
name, crying his love, crying out.

"*Lyubovnika!" he screamed, and Jay cried out, thrusting rapidly 
until he too, came, his eyes rolling back in his head. He felt Jay's 
heart thudding through his ribcage, and it matched the strange rapid 
pattern of his own.
A few moments later Jay lifted his head, strands of blond hair 
hanging limply into his face. His brow furrowed.

"What the fuck were you calling out?" he asked.

"Lover," he said softly, and listened to Jay gasp, twitching on him. 
He leaned up just enough to kiss Jay again, their tongues fencing for 
dominance, and then lay back on the couch, relaxing.
Maybe vodka had its uses as well. Though he thought he'd keep the 
translation of the rest of it to himself for now. No sense letting 
Jay have *all* the cards.

*"maybe I'm all messed up
but this is the only time I really feel alive
this is the only time I really feel alive"*

END
(Song quoted is Nine Inch Nails' "The Only Time")
(and *lyubimyj* means beloved)
****************