BILLET-DOUX ✦ CLASSIC ROCK

64 - bill wyman ²

I know I have requests to finish, but I was struck with inspiration to write Bill. He doesn't deserve it, but here it is.
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"What're you lookin' at?" Rumbled Bill from his place lazily slumped against the hotel sofa. His narrow fingers curled a slow, rhythmic tempo against the strings of his bass propped up on his lap.

You shrank into yourself, cheeks flushing a shameful red as you averted your nervous eyes from Bill's half-amused half-cruel stare. His moods were ever-changing behind those intense eyes, swirling like thunder clouds just behind his field of vision. You could see an impending storm brewing, though you weren't sure it was directed towards you. Bill's annoyance tended to be focused on the clumsy missteps of the crew and his bandmates' antics rather than your presence.

"Nothing," you replied softly, your voice not more than a peep. "Just amusing myself."

As if knowing exactly where your attention fell, Bill flicked his fingers in an expert lick that coaxed a series of sultry notes from his bass – showing off. If you dared to look up, back at Bill, you would see the playful raise of his thick brows and the hint of a smirk that tugged at his lips. He was completely aware of the hold that he had over you and absolutely relished in it.

"Sure yer just content with watchin'?" Bill's fingers slowed to pluck out a lower tone that lingered in the cage of your chest. "C'n do a lot more if you come closer."

You squeezed your eyes shut, shaking your head resolutely. "We're – We're in public, Bill."

You didn't need to hear Bill's chuckle to know that he was grinning at your expense, enjoying your full, cherub cheeks flushed and your incessant fidgeting. No matter how long you'd been together, the idea of any public displays of affection caused you to shrivel in mortification.

Bill didn't do things halfway, and oftentimes his idea of affection was tonguing you in front of an entourage of employees and even fans. He wouldn't hesitate to let his hands stray further below your waist, grabbing handfuls of your ass in front of the Stones, absolutely shameless. In fact, you wouldn't be surprised if Bill got off on the whole thought of showing the world that you belonged to him and him alone.

As it stood right now, you and Bill were practically swarmed with people getting ready for the upcoming show – which was in twenty minutes – and he wanted to express his "affection." By the look in his devious eyes, you were sure there was something undeniably sinful swirling about in his brain, ready to be enacted as thoroughly as possible. But the idea of all of these people seeing, of them judging, kept you still and silent.

"That don't matter a bit, babydoll," Bill crooned, setting aside his bass for more pressing matters. "Now won't you come sit on Willy's lap?"

You squirmed in place, finding it difficult to refuse when Bill used his deep growl to sway you. It had an incredible effect, as you could already feel an urge stirring within you. Oh, how you wanted to plant yourself firmly atop his skinny legs and feel him hold you upright so steadily. Typically, Bill wouldn't be able to hold back, and it wouldn't be long before his prick would strain against your thighs, seeking release.

That was something saved for your private moments together. The nights in front of the Telly with no one to witness besides the goldfish, and you felt no shame in giving yourself wholly over to Bill then.

It was now, under the cruel fluorescent lights that hung over your heads, you couldn't bear to be seen.

"Willy," you murmured, eyes pleading. A few passersby were beginning to cut curious eyes in your general direction, making your stomach curl up like an earthworm at the end of a long downpour. "Please. Let's stop. I'm hungry."