Product Placement

Chapter 23 - Punchline


He'd convinced Butch to come to a hotel for a change. He had explained that his parents were actually home for once, so it probably wasn't in their best interests to go there for the night. Since Butch's parents were almost always home and his mother was the best host in the world, it wasn't a good location for the occasional makeout, much less the sex they were planning on having. Butch figured they'd end up fucking in a car or in an alley or bathroom or something. Hustler suggested a motel. He knew of a few that were clean and relatively deserted (something Butch teased him about until he got punched in the arm).

Upon getting here, however, Butch suddenly felt more nervous than he thought was normal. Maybe it was being out of his element, someplace unfamiliar. Maybe it was that he was more or less whoring himself out –motel and all. It wasn't exactly seedy looking, but it was still a motel. If anyone saw him there – saw them here – they would more than likely already know what was going on and that could only lead to terrible things.

Francis patted his shoulder and kindly pushed him out of the car. He seemed unfazed by the setting and offered Butch some reprieve, volunteering to go half and half on the room and be the one to show his face to the innkeeper. Butch took him up on the offer and casually slid into the closest mass of shadow, lighting up a cigarette and taking a deep drag. He waited while Francis bartered down the room price. He emerged just as Butch finished his first smoke and was attempting to light another.

"Get any redder, Butch, and you could light that cigarette off your face." Fancies commented idly, examining his hand.
"You know, I could break your whole goddamn face" Butch growled, "But then where you keep that pretty smile?"

They went silent for a moment. Hustler could see that Butch was replaying what he just said in his head. Sure enough, he choked, stiffened, flushed redder (like that was possible), and turned on his heel, fully intent on fleeing. He could get home alright on foot. On the way he could try and figure out how in the hell that comeback got inside his head and how he could be daft enough to let it out. Stupid mouth and brain and thinking.

He got a good lead, but then Fran cleared his throat and called to him.

"Come here."

Butch turned despite telling himself not to, standing his ground for a moment. The hustler smirked, tilting his head ever so lightly. He raised and arm and, maintaining constant eye contact, crooked his finger, beckoning him. Butch, still red, gulped visibly and turned back. Francis grinned. He won. He always won. Was it fair- No, but who cares? He liked it when he won. Watching Butch stomp back to him in defeat was far too adorable to pass up. Horny little buggar could never resist him…

"Damnit why don't you ever turn red?" Butch grumbled, stopping a few feet away from the triumphant hustler. "It's not fucking fair."
"It's not." He affirmed, "Try saying something unbelievably sexy or ridiculously cute. I'll admit, you almost got me with that one, but watching you replay it in your head was funnier. You're too cute."
"Bastard." Butch hissed, batting away the hand that was trying to pinch his cheek.

Butch snorted and made a face, pointedly staring at the ground while Fran slid his arm around his shoulders and started to lead him towards their room for the night. Gradually, it morphed into an expression of deep and obvious thought. Fran was too busy contemplating how utterly adorable Butch was to notice any evil plots he could have been coming up with. They reached the room without much more incident and Francis let them in.

Butch took it upon himself to cash in the silent offer of the crooked finger almost immediately, pinning him against the door and kissing him. Francis chuckled, but reciprocated, sliding his arms around the others waist. It barely took a few touches and a nip to his neck to get Butch moaning for him. The hustler kissed him deeper, sliding his hands through the brown and white hair, pulling him in. The storyteller eventually broke the kiss to nurse his burning lungs. He looked deeply into the others eyes, his face pinked and his lips parted.

"Take me to the place only you can take me to…" Butch whispered.

There was a moment of silence.

And simultaneously the both of them burst in to laughter. It forced the two apart, cackling like mad. Hustler was red, all right, but mostly because he wasn't able to breathe. Even Butch couldn't keep himself from clutching his sides and doubling over at his own expense. Had he really just said that?

"Butch-" Fran managed to gasp, still kind of laughing, "S-sorry hah… you weren't, weren't serious, right?"

Butch started laughing again, managing to shake his head no. Glad he hadn't pissed off the other male, Hustler laughed too. It took a while, but both regained their breath and crawled up on the bed. Little spurts of laughter still struck them, but they managed to calm down enough for Francis to cuddle Butch without him being able to do anything about it. Butch was content to giggle and snicker every so often there in the dark with Fran's arms around him and his chin digging into his shoulder. Once he got the feeling back in his sides, though, he started to squirm a bit, turning in the hustler's arms to get to his face again.

"No more one liners, please." Francis murmured, half resisting a kiss.
"No promises."

Fran chuckled and rolled over, lazily pinning Butch to the bed. Said male let out a pained noise only to be sharply nipped. He grinned, groping around blindly for a few minutes until he found the opening in Hustler's coat and slid his hand inside, liberally exploring.

"Before we get started…" Butch mumbled between kisses "Turn on the light and make sure we're not in the middle of a crime scene, wouldja?"
"You need to stop watching those crime dramas."
"But they're so much fun."
"They're full of shit."
"Turn on the damn light and satisfy my weird paranoia, damn you."

Francis grumbled a bit and fished Butch's hand from his coat and rolled off of him. He wandered over to the wall and flicked on the light. Butch looked around while Francis shed his coat and hung it in the closet. Once the storyteller was suitably satisfied (after he checked the bathrooms and knocked on the walls for a moment), he shrugged off his own coat and threw it on the nearest dresser, crawling onto the bed to join Fran once more.

"You make a good pillow." Butch stated, draping himself over the stretched out, off duty hustler.
"You make an equally good blanket." Francis retorted, lacing his finger through the longish hair. "Though you seem a bit cold. Wanna turn up the heat?"
"Double entendre? I'm surprised at you Franny."
"I actually meant the thermosta-"
"Shaddup I know what you meant."

Butch huffed and crawled up the body until he was level with the amused smirk and promptly attempted to kiss it off. Hustler wrapped his arms around the other male and held him there, kissing him back. It was a slow start, but the way Francis figured their day ended at noon tomorrow. Surely they could get something more done between now and then. With that in mind, he flipped Butch over and pinned him to the bed, to which Butch rolled his hips and squirmed around until he managed to somehow get on his back.

"How the hell did this happen?" Francis asked, his face in the pillow with Butch tickling his ears.
"I'm just that damn good." He murmured, nibbling here and there.
"Come back down here."
"No. I like it up here."

Francis would have put up more of a fight if Butch hadn't started to rub his back and shoulders. He wasn't particularly good at it, but he was warm and it felt marginally good so Hustler put up no fight. The nips to his ear and neck weren't convincing him to move much, either. The grinding was kind of nice too – so long as Butch didn't get the illusion he was topping tonight. Eventually, though, Francis turned to look at him, shooting him a smile before thrusting his arm out and all but whacking him off his back and sandwiching Butch between himself and the bed once more.

"You're no fun."
"Stop that hand thing…"
"Also nope."
"But I'm already-"
"I know. That's not gonna stop me from taking forever."
"Do that and I'll just start spitting more one liners."
"You wouldn't dare."
"Try me." Butch hissed "I gotta million of 'em."

Before any could escape, Francis kissed him deeply, demanding entrance into his mouth. Butch was especially lazy about it, winding his arms around the larger males neck and kissing him back. The hustler slowly rolled his hips against the others, rubbing slowly. He left Butch to decide what happened next. Though he expected some form of sex it didn't have to be full on. They'd dry humped to completion more than once – normally when there was a privacy or time issue. Since there was none this time around, he suspected Butch would be a little more daring, especially considering how he could bug people in the adjoining rooms.

His suspicions were confirmed when Butch's hands slid up under his shirt. He smirked and broke the kiss; lifting himself up so he was straddling Butch's hips. He stripped his shirt off with a bit of flourish, letting it drop off his arm and somewhere onto the floor. Butch seemed to approve, raising a brow and licking his lips. He sat up; balancing on his one arm while the other ran over his chest.

"You're chiseled like a God baby, the Greek kind."
"You have got to stop talking."
"You just don't know how to accept a damn complement."

Francis kissed him, pulling him up by the back of the neck and holding him there. Butch moaned and continually groped his chest. The hustler smirked a bit and worked on stripping him of his shirt, too. Butch shivered a little and latched to Francis, sapping his warmth the best he could and groping him every which way. Francis wasn't too lazy with his wandering hands, either, and he grabbed Butch's butt hard enough to make him squeak.

Hustler pushed him down on the bed, grinding their hips together again. Butch made a variety of happy noises, rolling his hips around wildly, trying to get more friction, more contact. Francis was all too happy to comply. Somewhere along the line they broke the kiss to use their mouths elsewhere. Francis went directly for his neck while Butch was content enough to moan aloud and murmur endearments, his vow to make terrible one-liners forgotten for the moment amidst the excessive love bites.

"What are you thinkin' 'bout in those cloudy grey sky eyes?" Butch managed once Francis lifted his head.
"How best to fuck you into the mattress."
"Oh, you're good at these cliché things too."
"Shut up and raise your hips some more."

The hustler squeezed Butch's ass again and smirked at his badly stifled yelp. He grinned and slid his hands inside the denim, feeling around. Butch reciprocated, though he was a tad more forward. He blatantly wormed his hands between them, latching onto him with his legs to make up for his hands. Within moments Fran's pants were opened and already slowly moving down his legs, an eager pair of hands feeling him up. Francis moaned appreciatively into his neck, nipping rather hard.

"Your hair looks like a tornado hit it." Butch mumbled, messing up his hair further.
"Shush." Francis nipped him again "Take off your pants."

Despite his demands Francis was smiling. Butch seemed pleased enough with himself and was quiet for a few moments, helping rid himself and Francis of their pants. As an afterthought, the hustler grabbed up the blanket under them and covered them with it. He'd be damned if he give anyone complaining about noises a free show. Butch smirked up at him and wriggled comfortably in the new warmth, bringing him down for another kiss.

"I know it's against your idea of fun" Francis started, kissing down his chest a bit "But please try to be quiet."
"Aw, but I wanna scream for you baby." Butch was grinning "You make me feel so good."
"What did I tell you about talking?"
"Oh God don't stop."

Francis chuckled in spite of himself, nuzzling the pale throat until Butch started to whine. He ground their hips together, reveling in the feeling of skin on skin. Butch was beginning to wonder if or when they'd get any farther – not that he was complaining. He liked the grinding, but as he moved to ask Francis silenced him with a kiss. He was wiggling a little bottle in front of his face when he broke it.

"Aw… you always know what to get me."
"Figured you'd like it."
"Take me, stallion."

The hustler shook his head and pulled back a tad, wetting his fingers with the contents of the bottle and pressing them inside Butch. He protested a bit, wanting the whole thing all at once like always but Francis persisted. He knew better, and he'd rather anything than have Butch start bleeding and need hospital care. He'd even outlast the murmured overused phrases of endearment – however cliché and irritating they may be.

Somewhere along the line Francis kissed him if only to shut him up, which Butch did not object to in the least. He growled and grabbed at his neck, humping his stomach while trying to impale himself on the stretching fingers. Francis got the picture, slowly pulling his fingers out. Butch twisted around in anticipation, moaning a bit. Hustler smirked, slicking himself while Butch watched, trying to get his breath back to spew another overused line. He shifted the thinner hips before he could get the chance, making him choke on his words as he pushed in.

"F-Fuck you're so big!" Butch cried.

In all the times they've coupled, Butch had never once heard Francis laugh during sex. It was a strained, slight laugh - but it was still there, and it wasn't quick to go away. It was the closest he'd get to the hysterics balls deep inside. Butch snickered a little and licked his lips, watching Francis shake his head and lift his hips up a little bit.

"You have got to stop talking."
"Make me, stud."

Again the hustler was snickering, scratching his sides a bit to get him to shut up. Butch instead moaned theatrically and threw his head back, to which the hustler bit his neck swiftly. Butch yelped and jerked a bit, whining rather loudly. Francis took that chance to start moving in earnest, pulling out carefully only to slam back in. Hustler was glad to hear that it stopped him from talking, reducing him to grunts and whimpers for more.

It wouldn't be long for either of them, despite all of Butch's attempts to stall with terrible turns of phrase that ended in groans or whimpers. Again Francis just decided to lean forward and shut him up the best way he could. Butch seemed okay with it, moaning into his mouth, rubbing his cock against the muscled belly. Francis thrust harder, gripping Butch's dick and trying to keep time with his own thrusts. It wasn't perfect, but it was more than enough to finish them off.

Butch came first with a hoarse cry, Francis moments later with a grunted version of his partner's name. The hustler fell to Butch's side, breathing heavy. He was smiling, drawing him close before the thinner male could start twisting and turning around in protest of affection. Francis kissed the marks on Butch's neck, waiting for him to catch his breath and start asking for another round. When Butch did turn over, however, he was quiet. He seemed content with one round and was oddly silent. Francis eyed him curiously, waiting for the next words.

"No snappy commentary?" Francis asked, the silence getting to him -he was almost missing the noise.
"I…. can't think of anything to say." He whispered, reaching up to touch Fran's cheek "I dunno if anything's… appropriate, yah know? Don't think I know any words that can describe this… weird, right?"

Butch opened his eyes after a few more moments of silence, wondering what was taking him so long to respond. He was a little more than surprised to find Francis' face flushed. Butch sat up, looking a little closer. He even reached up to touch the reddened cheek, which only made it burn hotter.

"That did it? Of all things that did it?"
"I…I'm just warm… with the blanket." He lied lamely, kicking the covering off. Butch ignored him.
"Damn. All those lines for nothing. Good for a laugh though, right?"
"I dunno. I prefer the moaning."

Butch snickered a bit and lay back down. Francis lay with him, thinking everything was fine. He pulled the covers back over them and, in an oddly affectionate act, cast his arm over Butch's body and tugged him close. He wasn't sure what would happen now, but by the stillness, he figured Butch was fine with one round, which was just fine with him too. Francis rested his head against the nape of Butch's neck, breathing in and out slowly. This was nice…

As Francis fell asleep, nestled there against his back, Butch caught himself smiling. He stared at the wall for a few moments, just smiling blankly with no idea why. He tried to figure it out, this smile plastered on is face, but he kept coming up short. He wasn't usually this happy after sex, and even the one-liners weren't all that funny when Franny wasn't reacting. He was just happy. He felt warm. He felt safe. He felt just plain good.

He wasn't able to sleep for the rest of the night it bothered him so much.


The next morning, Francis kicked him out of bed far earlier than any normal teenager should have been awake. Of course, the businessman was dressed and showered and ready, drinking his coffee and shaking his head at the lazy thing that was the normal teenager. Butch, who was exceptionally groggy because of his lack of sleep (a fact he didn't dare disclose to the hustler if only because he hadn't figured out just why he wasn't able to sleep yet) stumbled around and yawned a lot, inevitably snatching the brew from HK's hands and gagging it down.

"Rough night?" Francis asked, crossing his arms while Butch pulled on his coat.
"Shut up."
"We only went once. I'm surprised you didn't try to get more out of me."
"I haven't slept in a couple of days, get off my back" Butch made a face "Ugh, how do you drink this shit? Is there even any sugar in it?"
"I take my coffee strong and black."
"Like your men?"
"Aren't you just full of snappy comebacks? Are you sure you're all right? I know you're not exactly a morning person but-"
"No, no… I'm fine."

Francis didn't push. He calmly waited for Butch to gather his wits, promptly kissed him thoroughly enough to get them to scatter again, and guided him out to the car. Butch was largely silent, blaming it on not too much sleep and not wanting to draw attention to them as they left the motel. Even dropping Butch off proved to be somewhat awkward. Francis thought he should lean over and kiss him goodbye or make plans, but Butch seemed less than willing to look at him for more than three seconds. Francis, just figuring Butch was in one of his weird moods, just let it be.

To his credit, Butch did lean over and kiss him one last time before scrambling out of the car and trotting back up to his house. He watched Fran drive off before skirting the house and slipping into his room through the basement window.

It was weird, how he felt. Like someone had punched him in the chest or something. Like something was worming through him, but it wasn't all that bad of a feeling.

It was probably something he just needed to sleep off.



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