How To Win Friends And Influence People

One of the first things Leonard realizes about Bill is that Bill flirts with everyone: Nichelle, Dorothy Fontana, the stunt men, Gene, the blonde in catering, heck, even Leonard himself. Bill has no sense of personal space (or maybe he just doesn’t care) so when the cameras stop rolling, he’ll loop an arm around the nearest neck or waist for a quick hug. He’ll lean in and say something totally innocent two registers lower than his normal tone of voice. He’ll smile, too slow and too knowing, like he’s trying to reel you in.

At first, none of this bothers Leonard much. Actors have no personal space as it is, and Leonard’s more than capable of letting the unwanted attention slide past him and onto the next person. He and Bill become friends, of a sort, bonding as they deal with desert heat, uncomfortable costumes, and cardboard sets. They eat their lunches together, and when Bill isn’t getting too grabby, he’s surprisingly funny and entertaining to be around. So if Bill’s definition of ‘being friendly’ doesn’t quite match up to Leonard’s, well, Leonard’s willing to deal with it. They’ll laugh at each other’s jokes and maybe end up sitting too close, and it won’t mean anything, because that’s just how Bill is with everyone.

After a while, though, Bill’s constant flirting beings to grate on Leonard’s nerves. It’s the the weight of his arm around Leonard’s neck, the smarmy curl of his lips as he chats up the newest guest star, the slaps on the back he exchanges with De. Leonard’s not entirely sure why his skin feels too tight when Bill sprawls in the captain’s chair, smirking at Leonard like he’s got a secret no one knows, but it does. Leonard’s pretty sure this is all Bill’s fault somehow. It’s almost always Bill’s fault.

One afternoon after filming, Bill ducks into Leonard’s trailer for no other reason than to annoy Leonard as he’s trying to get ready to go home, as far as Leonard can tell. Leonard’s trailer isn’t very big, and it’s pretty narrow, but it’s also long enough to fit two grown men standing side by side. Bill doesn’t seem to notice this. He stands across from where Leonard’s seated on his two-person couch, pulling his shoes on, so close that their knees keep knocking against each other. Leonard resists the urge to kick Bill’s legs to the side.

Bill, at the moment, is complaining about the food, waving his hands around to demonstrate something about the macaroni and cheese that Leonard doesn’t care about. Leonard focuses on tying his left shoe. It’s a lot more interesting. “I don’t think I’m a big fan of the vegetables, either. They’re overcooked, " Bill says, leaning back against the window opposite the couch. His eyes are bright and shining, and he bends at the waist so his face is close to Leonard’s neck. Leonard can smell his cologne.

Bill needs a new hobby, Leonard decides, something to do besides fucking with Leonard’s head for no good reason. “Bill,” Leonard says, “I mean this in the nicest way possible, but will you go away?”

Bill just just chuckles and smiles the same smile he uses when Kirk is trying charm the pants off of the latest half-naked alien babe. “Come on, Leonard. You don’t really want that.” He flops down on the couch right next to Leonard so that they’re pressed together from shoulder to thigh.

That’s when Leonard’s patience finally snaps. Bill really can’t keep doing this, because one day someone (most likely someone Bill doesn’t actually want) will take what he’s offering at face value, and then where will he be? Leonard figures he should call Bill’s bluff right now for his own good. Just so he knows what he’s getting into. He puts a hand on Bill’s knee, fingers brushing against Bill’s inner thigh. “I guess you’re right,” he says, letting his voice deepen. If Bill’s as straight as he pretends to be it should be enough to scare him right off.

Bill’s body goes stiff, the grin falling right off his face. Leonard thinks that might be the end of it, but then Bill relaxes in a moment, a challenge in his eyes. “You’re going to have to do a lot better than that,” he says, spreading his legs a little wider.

Leonard’s not exactly the most competitive person in the entire world, but he can’t back down now. Not with Bill’s eyes intent on his face, Bill’s legs open in a blatant invitation. Leonard slides his hand further up, the denim of Bill’s jeans rough against his palm. He watches the slight flush spread across Bill’s cheeks, the fall of his hair onto his forehead. It’s impossible to tell how far Bill is willing to let this go, but Leonard’s not going to stop until he hits that point.

Bill sucks in a harsh breath when Leonard’s fingers brush his dick through his pants, but he doesn’t pull away. His eyes meet Leonard’s, pupils huge and dark. There’s a hum underneath Leonard’s skin. He’s finding it hard to breathe. And even this isn’t going far enough; there’s a smirk still hovering over Bill’s lips, that brightness in his eyes hasn’t gone away.

Leonard straddles Bill’s lap, his hand drifting up until it hits the inner seam of Bill’s crotch. It’s the only place they’re touching, but their faces are so close they’re breathing the same air. “Is this what you want?” Leonard asks, because he might as well put it out there, so Bill can take it or leave it.

Bill leans back, dimpling the plastic covering of the couch, showing off the line of his neck, the expanse of his chest. “Don’t be stupid,” Bill says. He makes his own move, grabbing Leonard’s half-hard dick through layers of clothes. It surprises Leonard enough that he almost yanks back, but that would mean losing, so he controls his reaction the way he does on set, his expression carefully blank as everything goes crazy around him.

They stare enough other down. Bill’s smirk is fully visible now, enough to be infuriating, and Leonard just wants to wipe it off his face. He closes the space between them, pulling Bill’s lower lip into his mouth, biting down on it, not hard enough to draw blood, but hard enough that Bill gasps and squirms against Leonard’s hand.

Leonard thinks of all the places on Bill’s body he’s never let himself want to touch; the curve of his jaw, the patch of skin just behind his ears, the angle of his cheekbones, his shoulders, his elbows, his feet. He thinks of every time Bill’s winked at him on set and grinned. Leonard’s hard and a little aching right now, not sure how close this is to his own lines he’s crossing, because he doesn’t do this. He doesn’t fuck friends, doesn’t screw around with anyone he’ll want to spend time with later. “Bill --” he starts as he pulls away, trying to get a better hold on the situation.

Bill doesn’t let him. He follows Leonard up, tracing Leonard’s jaw with his lips. “You’re such a pricktease, Nimoy,” Bill mutters against his skin, and Leonard’s breath catches in his throat when Bill squeezes his dick hard through the fabric of his pants.

Fuck, they really were doing this, then. Leonard’s still trying not to come before anyone actually touches his dick when Bill manages to get Leonard’s fly open and shove aside Leonard’s underwear. He’s sitting down, and Leonard’s standing up, his hard-on dark and leaking in Bill’s hand. Bill gives Leonard the same look Kirk gives the camera, cocky and confident and sure. Leonard can’t quite figure out exactly what sequence of events got him to this point. He stiffens a little as Bill tries to draw him closer, but then his whole body relaxes when Bill’s lips slide along Leonard’s dick, hot and dry on Leonard’s skin. Leonard’s fingers end up in Bill’s hair somehow, and they end up a bit sticky from whatever crap Bill puts into his hair. It doesn’t really matter, though, because Bill does something dirty and amazing with his tongue. Leonard’s knees almost buckle underneath him, but he uses Bill’s shoulders to keep himself upright.

Bill’s got a wicked mouth, almost as good as that makeup girl on The Outer Limits, and when Bill swallows around Leonard’s cock, his throat impossibly tight around the head, Leonard’s comes hard, his vision blacking out at the edges. Bill swallows it all down with an enthusiasm usually reserved for cajoling the writers into giving him more lines.

Leonard’s left panting, wrung out, unsteady on his own feet. Bill leans back to show off the obvious bulge in his jeans, and just the sight of it, Bill’s hair mussed from Leonard’s hands, his mouth hanging open as he sucks in deep breaths, a smudge of white fluid lingering on his bottom lip, all of it makes Leonard’s dick twitch. Still, he’s not sixteen anymore, so it doesn’t really mean anything. He just stares, uncertain of what he wants to do next. He could let Bill fuck him over the arm of the arm of the couch. He could drop to his knees and suck Bill off. He could peel off Bill’s clothes and finger fuck him against the flimsy wall of his trailer.

Bill just rolls his eyes at Leonard’s hesitation. “Come on, Leonard. Don’t be a chicken,” he says, and that’s enough to push Leonard into action.

He scrambles to his knees and unbuttons Bill’s shirt with clumsy hands, revealing the smooth, hairless skin of Bill’s chest. Leonard leans in to taste the salt of Bill’s skin, to run his teeth over a hard nipple. Bill hisses, something desperate and needy written all over his face. Leonard could draw this out, make Bill suffer a bit, but he’s not sure he has the patience. Right now, he just wants, wants like he’s been wanting forever, like he’s been wanting since before he even knew what he wanted. He undoes the fly of Bill’s pants, cursing a bit when his hands have trouble with the buttons. He’s completely unsurprised to find out Bill’s not wearing any underwear, though he’s pretty sure that really has to chafe.

“Jesus fuck,” Bill says as Leonard sucks the head of his cock into his mouth. Bills fingers dig into the back of Leonard’s scalp. He’s not going to last long; Leonard’s blown enough guys in his life to tell. He pushes down further, pulling Bill deeper, and Bill starts to babble. Of course he’s not the type to keep his mouth shut. “-- fuck, wanted this, come on, come on -- " spills from Bill’s lips.

Leonard gives a bit of teeth, and Bill’s hips jerk, almost hitting Leonard’s gag reflex. He palms Bill’s balls, rough and hairy in Leonard’s hands, and he can feel Bill’s full-body shudder as he comes. Leonard swallows as much of it as he can.

They don’t say anything for a few moments as they put themselves back together, the silence stretching out between them. Leonard finds himself slumped on the couch next to Bill, his shirt still half-pulled out of his pants, one of his shoes still untied. Bill smirks again. His hair is still mussed. His shirt is buttoned one button off so that he looks rumpled, debauched. He tilts his head back, licks his lips in a way that could only be described as ‘filthy.’ He says, “So, I think we both won that time. Want to play another game back at my place?”

It’s probably the third-lamest pickup line Leonard’s ever heard. This probably means that Leonard’s (admittedly not very logical) strategy has completely failed, and Bill is already back to flirting and ignoring personal boundaries. Though to tell the truth, Leonard’s not finding it quite as annoying as he had before, and besides, personal boundaries do tend to break down when you’ve just had another guy’s dick in your mouth. “Yeah, sure,” Leonard says.

He places a hand on the back of Bill’s neck, sliding his thumb along the skin just behind Bill’s left ear, right where he’s never let himself want to touch.

FIN.