Press Junket - DVD Extras Series
Nov. 21st, 2010 09:30 pm![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
sonora_conejaPairing: Liam/Bradley
Rating: NC-17
Warnings: Possessive!Bradley (take that how you will)
Summary: A fill for this prompt on the kink meme. Inspired by the OP’s attached photo and the A-Team movie premier.
I cruelly miss RPS.
Liam is three times my age but still as hot as hell. Bradley is freakin' cute, and I wonder if someone could write something between them. Anything, I'm not picky.
Bradley Cooper gets attacked by the green-eyed monster at the A-Team premier. He trashes his previous plan for a slow night of romance when he sees Liam flirting with every woman in sight. I have no idea if Brad would really be this pouty, jealous or possessive in RL, but... I’d like to think so!
Brad hates press junkets.
He’s lost count of how many they’d already done for the movie. Interviews with the whole team, with just him and Sharlto, with him and Liam... those were the worst, the ones where he had to sit on one of those uncomfortable chairs, right next to the Irishman, pretend like he was having a good time. And, of course, Liam didn't have to pretend. Liam would sit a little too close, flash Brad those little knowing looks every so often, tease him through the whole fucking thing and everybody smiled, except for Brad. And didn't it seem like the interviewers were always women. Skinny Hollywood women who smiled and simpered, trying to flirt with Brad but mostly with Liam?
Always, always, always flirting with Liam.
And tonight’s more of the same.
Oh, Brad should have been enjoying the premier. He’d gotten to drive a tank and everything, Sharlto fanboying out hard, Rampage generally having a great time, Jessica looking lovely as always. The excitement in the crowd was palpable. It should have been a great time.
But then, there were the interviews. The interviews where everybody wanted to ask stupid questions about how was it working with so-and-so and who are you wearing tonight and, to Brad’s horror, the one right now, so, are you each other’s dates?
He’d been talking about how awesome the tank was - and the tank was pretty damn awesome - and then Liam had come and put an arm up around his shoulders. And the E! anchorwoman just had to start talking about how hot they were and fucking flirting... and she seriously didn’t ask if they were each other’s dates, did she?
Brad feels his heart skip a beat, and Liam’s smiling at him and squeezing his shoulder, so he plays it off. “Yeah, you could say we are,” he says with that smile his old acting coach said the camera loves, and they move on to something else.
Close call. He tries to relax.
But he just can’t.
He tries to say something about it to Liam after that particular one’s done with them, before the next one finds them. But Liam doesn’t let him get that far, giving him some off-handed comment about how they’re talk about it later. Brad knows they have to be careful, and no, he really doesn’t want it to get out, but he’d gladly plant a big, sloppy, wet one on Liam right on, full on the mouth, bending him over in front of god and everybody, if it would get these pathetic vultures to knock it the fuck off.
But he knows that wouldn’t really make it stop. It would probably make it worse, actually. So Brad’s left to sit and stew and pretend like everything’s okay...
Is it just his imagination, or is Liam flirting with every woman in sight? And the man’s so damn calm about it, like he’s picking up fat girls at the local pub. Nothing phases him. Nothing. How does he do that? Doesn’t he know how
Brad’s so incensed by the time they get into the theater that he can barely focus on the film. And when Liam reaches between their seats and starts playing his fingers along the back of Brad’s hand, all the younger actor can think about is how bad Liam’s going to pay for this later tonight.
+++++
By the time he finally gets back the hotel, Brad is very nearly bursting at the seams.
Brad had called Liam’s agent and then had his agent set them up in the same hotel. It had seemed like a good idea at the time. They probably weren’t going to get to see each other very much after the premier. Homes in different parts of the country, different work schedules... he’d already prepared himself for all that, and he’d wanted to surprise Liam with one more night together.
He’d been planning this for a while. Pizza and beer and something gentle and sweet and drawn-out, just like they both like it. Just like it should be, the last time. But after all that bullshit on the red carpet? He could change the plan, right?
Right.
He tells the girl at the front desk that he wants to play a prank on a good buddy of his, and he smiles at her. Maybe it’s the last two hours of watching Face do his thing, cause it works. Brad gets the key. Sure, it’s flirting, which exactly what he’s pissed at Liam for, but the ends justify the means and all that, right?
Right.
He doesn’t really know when Liam’s going to get back as he settles into a chair in the very nice, very dark suite, and he’s not there very long before he wonders if this is really a good idea, and what Liam’s going to do to him over it. If this is really the best way to end their little... fling. If Liam’s going to be really, really pissed. If it isn’t all going to just end in a fight and Liam’s going to throw him out and never talk to him again.
Holy.
Fuck.
That’s a horrible enough thought that Brad gets up and goes for the door. Not worth it, this is so not worth it. He’s going to just go back to his own room, which is a lot smaller than Liam’s, now that he thinks about it, and hit the minibar and pass out and forget that the last few months ever happened, that Liam ever kissed him, that Liam ever...
His hand in on the knob and he’s really going to just go, but he can hear voices outside. One of them’s Liam’s, and that makes him smile just a little before he remembers how incredibly fucked he is now. But the other voice is a female’s.
So Brad sits back down in the nice little Scandinavian armchair and waits. Because he doesn’t care who finds out or what is going to happen when that door opens. Because that shit is not going to fly.
The door creaks on its hinges and there’s Liam, silhouetted against the light of the hallways, fucking laughing with that woman, whoever she is. Liam kisses her hand and she giggles and Brad’s half out of the chair. But the Irishman just backs up, inside now and shuts the door quietly behind, and Brad moves away, wanting to see what he’s going to do
He doesn’t flip on the lights right away, and by the noise, he takes his jacket off. Throws it on the small couch and hits the button that opens the blackout curtains. LA’s revealed in all its splendor, a million points of gold light brightening up the room just enough to see by. Liam stands there for a moment, looking out over it all, his shoulders slumped and his head hanging a little.
Brad learned a lot about this man during the shoot. That means he’s tired. Brad doesn’t care.
“Moving on that fast, Liam?”
Liam’s tall frame stiffens, straightens. “Bradley?” he asks, and goes for the light switch. There’s a little edge to his voice that makes the younger man’s cock twitch. “I’m not in the mood, boyo...”
Brad catches him before he gets there, closing a hand down over Liam’s. He’s not gentle about it. “So what, change your mind? Too tired to fuck her tonight?”
“I don’t know what you’re playing at...”
His other hand’s sliding up the wall to the switch and Brad catches that one, too. He pushes Liam’s hands up against his chest, moving them both backwards, until Liam’s back hits the opposite wall. He leans in, so he can practically taste Liam as he says, “lights stay off.”
“Brad...” Liam warns, trying to push forward.
“Shut up,” Bradley growls and shoves his lover back, lips almost touching. “Just shut up, sweetheart.”
They stare at each other in the near darkness. Just a moment, and then Liam lets his head fall back, eyes closed. Brad's lips crash down and everything, everywhere, just a for a moment, seems to stop.
Then things start going way too fast.
Brad’s not gentle about this. He attacks Liam’s mouth, thrusting his tongue between his lover’s lips, grazing teeth, demanding entrance, demanding compliance. For a moment, Liam tries to push back, but Brad’s not having any of that. His blood feels like it’s boiling, and he’s not sure if it’s from need or desire or anger or frustration or what, but it doesn’t matter. He is going to show Liam who he belongs to, right now. Right now, he’s in charge.
Liam’s still a little resistant, his body fighting the weight of Brad’s, squirming just a little as his hands grope for purchase between their chests. Brad breaks back, dragging his teeth over that perfect lower lip, listening to Liam’s gasps with marked pleasure, and pushes Liam’s wrists up over his head, slamming them against the wall. He pushes a knee between his lover’s legs, shoving them apart.
“Brad, what’s going on?” Liam whispers, voice tinged with... what is that, exactly? Fear? Hesitation? Lust?
Lust sounds good right now.
Brad’s going to go with lust.
The younger actor just grips his wrists tighter and fists a hand in Liam’s hair. “Shut up,” he whispers again, and this time, a shudder runs through Liam and he automatically opens up, surrendering to Brad as their lips meet again with bruising force. It’s intoxicating, devoring Liam like this, feeling the older man go pliant beneath him like this as Brad plunders his mouth, drawing whimpers that seem so out of character for his normally dominate lover.
Soon, too soon, Liam’s trying to say something, fighting against Brad’s hand, and the younger man drops his wrists, bringing that hand down to wrap around Liam’s waist and pull them tightly together, feeling Liam’s fingers ghost over the loose fabric of his suit pants, turning them both around and pushing them back in the direction of the bedroom, never losing contact, mouth and hands busy, roaming, leaving no inch of Liam’s body lonely.
The man’s wearing far too many clothes.
He can feel Liam’s erection pressing against his hip and smiles in the darkness.
“Mmm, Liam, you like this, don’t you?”
“...brat...” Liam manages to gasp before Brad swings him around the wall and half-open double doors to throw him down on the bed and straddle his legs. The Irishman pushes himself up on an elbow, tilting his head back in clear invitation, and Brad nips along his jaw, his throat, as he rips Liam’s shirt open and tugs it clean off.
Buttons hit the carpet in quiet little plops and Liam arches as the fabric’s forced over his head and arms. He’s breathing hard now and Brad smirks, lowering himself onto his hands, pressing the other man back into the bed.
“Do you like the attention, Liam? Letting all those woman throw themselves at you?”
“No...”
Brad licks a hot strip up Liam’s neck, right above the throbbing vein and pushes down against Liam’s erection. “I think you do. I think you need to remember...” He nibbles at Liam’s ear and starts moving down again. “Remember how this works between us.”
"How it works..." Liam sounds dazed, and that only makes Brad's arousal spiral higher.
"I'm yours," he growls, "which means that you're mine."
His lover groans as Brad captures a hard nipple between his teeth, teasing it lightly before clamping down, sucking hard. The noises coming from Liam, the way Liam’s hands shoot up to grab his hair, like he’s hold on for dear life, only serve to spur Brad on. His cock is throbbing, and already he can feel the telltale moisture against his own skin, but he has to ignore it right now, has to let Liam know how he feels about him, about this thing between them... and he bites.
Liam cries out beneath, thrashing, and the younger actor pulls back, startled at himself, feeling a flush beginning to spread up his cheeks. Did he really just do that? What the fuck's wrong with him?
“Oh, fuck, Liam, jesus, I don’t know... fuck...I’m sor...” he starts to say, but then Liam’s hand tugs him insistently back down, moaning, wanton and hot, as he flicks his own thumb over the love bite and brings his mouth up to Brad’s ear and says the hottest thing that Brad’s ever heard him say and he almost comes in his pants, right there, when Liam says...
“Fuck me.”
His hips thrust up and Brad tangles their legs together, pulling Liam closer, letting him feel the hardness between his own thighs. He can’t quite accept what Liam’s just said. His brain won’t quite process it. “What was, that, darling?”
Liam’s eyes are closed and he’s starting to sweat. “Brad, I need you... need you to...to...fuck me...”
It snaps all but his last thread of control. But Brad just can’t resist. He slaps Liam's hands away and sits back on Liam's thighs, just out of reach. “What’s the magic word, Liam?”
To the older man’s credit, there’s not a single second of hesitation. He doesn’t miss a beat. He rears up and fists his hands into Brad's shirt. The American thinks he hears a seam rip. “Please, oh god, Bradley, please fuck me...”
And there it goes. Vanished in the sweet explosion of those words. Self control utterly, utterly gone.
Brad’s not quite how he manages it, but it only feels like a matter of seconds before he’s got Liam stripped and whimpering and gets back over his legs, bracing himself with one arm on Liam’s shoulder. He kisses him one more time, hard and fast and thrilling. He wraps his hand around naked flesh and squeezes as he strokes down, letting a finger trail behind, softer, tracing a fat vein along the underside.
Liam’s magnificent cock is already leaking and he gives the head a light flick before letting his thumb play over the slit. Liam bucks, and only Brad’s hand, holding him down with everything’s he’s got, keeps him on the bed.
“You... fucking tease...”
“Shut up, darling, we’re going at my pace, remember?” Brad growls good-naturedly as he moves to cup Liam’s balls, rolling them in his palm. “You like this, don’t you? Me, here, over you?” Liam makes a strangled little noise as Brad lets down and stands up, fumbling with his belt. “Yeah, you love it. Tell me you love it.”
“Brad, I love... oh, fuck!”
Brad gets his pants down just enough, just far enough to say, “get on your belly right fucking now,” and have enough time to free his own aching length and move back in.
Liam shoves a pillow under his own hips, lifting that perfect ass high into view, as Brad retrieves the lube from his back pocket and slicks himself up. He positions himself, pausing a moment, trying to remember how Liam usually did this, what the best way to...
“Fuck, boyo, I’m dying here...”
Whatever.
He dribbles what he thinks is enough lube right down the top of Liam’s crack, loving the little shiver that runs through the Irishman at the cold sensation. He plays right over the top of Liam’s tight bud for just a second, fingering it, waiting until Liam makes another one of those utterly tasty little sounds again, and pulls his finger away.
“Bradley...”
“Shh, baby,” Brad says and lines up, loving the way the tip of his cock feels, sliding between those slick cheeks. “Shh, I gotcha.”
“I... oh, FUCK!”
Brad grabs Liam’s hips and shoves in in one hard, smooth motion. Tears spring to his eyes at the feel of Liam’s body, softer than he’d expected, opening up around him and letting him in, impossibly tight, incredibly hot, burning...
He pauses, just there, almost all the way in. “Oh, god, Liam...” he moans, and his lover thrusts back against him.
“Fuck me, Bradley Cooper...”
And his courage is back. He sinks all the way in until their hips are touching. Rotates his hips slightly, pulls almost all the way out and slams back in. Pulls out. Back in. Finds a pace, hard, like Liam would take him sometimes, and goes with it.
Liam buries his face in the pillows and wails.
“That’s it, darling,” Brad grunts, stroking the back of Liam’s neck. “I want to hear how good I’m making you feel.”
They’ve actually never done this before, he and Liam. Liam’s always, always topped, and Brad’s been okay with that. More than okay with that. But he’s never had this much control before, never been able to feel his man moaning and pulsing underneath him, around him, naked and exposed, as he pistons into him.
“Want to hear you crying out beneath me...”
He angles a little, and Liam practically screams into the pillows as Brad grazes his prostate.
“...want you to know that this is something no woman is ever going to give you....”
Brad smiles, closes his eyes and lets his head fall back in the darkness, trying to maintain the pace, driving down into his man again and again and again. He could get lost in this, he really could, let himself fall into that wonderful, wonderful warmth...
“...want you to know that we belong with each other, fit together perfectly...”
And when his fingers can feel those little shivers running through Liam, who seems to have lost the capability for rational speech at this point, he makes a decision. The American grits his teeth and pulls out completely, wrapping his hand around Liam’s waist and his cock and squeezes, staving off his lover's impending orgasm.
Drawing a loud wail of protest.
“Bradley, you son of a bitch...”
The younger man leans over, rubbing his still-clothed body all over that glorious expanse of skin as he goes, shifting his weight off Liam. “Turn over, baby,” he says, noticing how deep his own voice sounds, how hoarse, noting the involuntary shiver beneath him, and decides he loves calling Liam that.
He leans a little further, over to the nightstand, sliding that little switch up on its notch...
Soft light floods the room, unobtrusive, still dim, just bright enough to see. Just enough to smile down at Liam and get a good look at him, who looks utterly wrecked and utterly delicious, sweating and flushed, eyes flared wide and mouth slightly open, legs spreading slowly. God, that’s a lovely sight. He wants to remember that forever.
“What... happened to...no lights...”
Brad silences him with a swift slap on the ass and a light kiss, and Liam’s eyes roll back into his head.
The older actor’s cock is standing at full attention. It twitches at the slap and what a shame, a kink they never discovered before, and one they aren’t going to have time to explore now. Oh well, missed opportunities being what they were and everything...Brad maneuvers himself between Liam’s legs and nudges at a knee.
Liam takes the hint, fast, and wraps his legs up and around Bradley’s hips, arching up as Brad thrusts back into that intoxicating heat, so slick and open now...he gasps and pushes Liam’s knees wider with the palms of his hands. God, he’s so close, so close, and the way his lover’s biting his lips and screwing his eyes up, bed shaking on every downward thrust, Brad doesn’t know how much longer he’s going to be able to hold out on this, and then Liam fucking squeezes around him with a soft cry and grins and that’s it, he’s right there...
Panting, he fists Liam’s cock again, just once, and that’s all it takes to send his lover into orgasm, shouting Bradley’s name, squeezing down again, and the combination of those two things sends him over the edge. Liam’s milking Bradley’s own release from him even as he splatters his own all over their stomachs in hard, hot, long pulses, back in control now somehow, but the younger man can’t bring himself to care. Brad moans and stiffens, feeling the wonderful sensation as he fills Liam, knowing how good this always was for him, wondering how good it is for Liam, unable to think of anything except the way this feels, how good, how incredibly fucking good it is...
And he’s not really aware that he’s collapsed until he registers the feel Liam’s arms around him, cool, damp clothes trapping heat trying to escape from flushed skin, a big hand running through his sweaty hair, gasping for breath, muscles sore from exertion. They’re both breathing hard, trying to recover, and for long minutes, there’s nothing but silence.
“Hey,” Bradley finally whispers, smiling up at him, “I can’t believe you let me do that.”
“You and me both, boyo,” Liam says with a little, panting laugh, and strokes Brad’s hair again. He knows all his habits by now, after all those nights during the shoot. “Think you almost killed me.”
“That’s exhausting, topping,” he groans in reply. “I don’t know how you do it...”
“Stamina,” the Irishman says, and starts unbuttoning Bradley’s shirt, pulling it gently off. He pushes up onto his heels, tugging off Brad’s pants and briefs, throwing them off to hit the floor somewhere. Brad sighes as cool air hits his over-heated skin, and wonders at Liam. How in the hell does he recover so fast?
But it doesn’t matter. The aggression’s all burned out, jealousy gone, spilled out. He can relax again, he can relax into Liam as the man slides back up and pulls him in close. Brad sighes again, and lets his head fall back against Liam’s chest. He loves it, the part where Liam holds him like he’s something precious, makes him feel like this was all more than just fun during the shoot. And it has been fun...
“I’m paying you back in the morning.” Liam’s nose tickles his ear. “Ah, I haven’t been...that, that, in years.”
“I’m sorry, I just...”
“There’s nothing wrong, lad. ‘t was good for your first time in the driver’s seat. What got into you? You’ve never...”
“I’m jealous of them,” he admits. “Everybody who looks at you.”
“Bradley, that’s just how it is in our line of work. Everybody wants a piece of you,” Liam says gently, pushing damp locks off his forehead. “And, aye, who wouldn’t want a piece of you, you sexy man?”
“They all want you, Liam.”
“Oh, like who?”
He bites his lip. Might as well admit to it. “Like that woman at the door. I was just going to leave, and then that bullshit...”
Liam starts a little, and then chuckles. “Oh, is that was this was about?”
The flush is definitely back. “I...”
“Bradley, that was one of the maids. She wanted an autograph for her kids.”
Aw, shit.
He’s definitely blushing again, and Liam’s laughing at him now, and he just wants to slink away and hide. God, he’s such an idiot... but Liam tightens his arms and laughs harder, letting him know it’s all forgiven. Telling him that everything’s okay, that they’re right here together now, and isn’t that how it’s supposed to be, and may never be again?
But Brad doesn’t want to think about the future.
Right now is good, just like it is.
Rating: NC-17
Warnings: Possessive!Bradley (take that how you will)
Summary: A fill for this prompt on the kink meme. Inspired by the OP’s attached photo and the A-Team movie premier.
I cruelly miss RPS.
Liam is three times my age but still as hot as hell. Bradley is freakin' cute, and I wonder if someone could write something between them. Anything, I'm not picky.
Bradley Cooper gets attacked by the green-eyed monster at the A-Team premier. He trashes his previous plan for a slow night of romance when he sees Liam flirting with every woman in sight. I have no idea if Brad would really be this pouty, jealous or possessive in RL, but... I’d like to think so!
Brad hates press junkets.
He’s lost count of how many they’d already done for the movie. Interviews with the whole team, with just him and Sharlto, with him and Liam... those were the worst, the ones where he had to sit on one of those uncomfortable chairs, right next to the Irishman, pretend like he was having a good time. And, of course, Liam didn't have to pretend. Liam would sit a little too close, flash Brad those little knowing looks every so often, tease him through the whole fucking thing and everybody smiled, except for Brad. And didn't it seem like the interviewers were always women. Skinny Hollywood women who smiled and simpered, trying to flirt with Brad but mostly with Liam?
Always, always, always flirting with Liam.
And tonight’s more of the same.
Oh, Brad should have been enjoying the premier. He’d gotten to drive a tank and everything, Sharlto fanboying out hard, Rampage generally having a great time, Jessica looking lovely as always. The excitement in the crowd was palpable. It should have been a great time.
But then, there were the interviews. The interviews where everybody wanted to ask stupid questions about how was it working with so-and-so and who are you wearing tonight and, to Brad’s horror, the one right now, so, are you each other’s dates?
He’d been talking about how awesome the tank was - and the tank was pretty damn awesome - and then Liam had come and put an arm up around his shoulders. And the E! anchorwoman just had to start talking about how hot they were and fucking flirting... and she seriously didn’t ask if they were each other’s dates, did she?
Brad feels his heart skip a beat, and Liam’s smiling at him and squeezing his shoulder, so he plays it off. “Yeah, you could say we are,” he says with that smile his old acting coach said the camera loves, and they move on to something else.
Close call. He tries to relax.
But he just can’t.
He tries to say something about it to Liam after that particular one’s done with them, before the next one finds them. But Liam doesn’t let him get that far, giving him some off-handed comment about how they’re talk about it later. Brad knows they have to be careful, and no, he really doesn’t want it to get out, but he’d gladly plant a big, sloppy, wet one on Liam right on, full on the mouth, bending him over in front of god and everybody, if it would get these pathetic vultures to knock it the fuck off.
But he knows that wouldn’t really make it stop. It would probably make it worse, actually. So Brad’s left to sit and stew and pretend like everything’s okay...
Is it just his imagination, or is Liam flirting with every woman in sight? And the man’s so damn calm about it, like he’s picking up fat girls at the local pub. Nothing phases him. Nothing. How does he do that? Doesn’t he know how
Brad’s so incensed by the time they get into the theater that he can barely focus on the film. And when Liam reaches between their seats and starts playing his fingers along the back of Brad’s hand, all the younger actor can think about is how bad Liam’s going to pay for this later tonight.
+++++
By the time he finally gets back the hotel, Brad is very nearly bursting at the seams.
Brad had called Liam’s agent and then had his agent set them up in the same hotel. It had seemed like a good idea at the time. They probably weren’t going to get to see each other very much after the premier. Homes in different parts of the country, different work schedules... he’d already prepared himself for all that, and he’d wanted to surprise Liam with one more night together.
He’d been planning this for a while. Pizza and beer and something gentle and sweet and drawn-out, just like they both like it. Just like it should be, the last time. But after all that bullshit on the red carpet? He could change the plan, right?
Right.
He tells the girl at the front desk that he wants to play a prank on a good buddy of his, and he smiles at her. Maybe it’s the last two hours of watching Face do his thing, cause it works. Brad gets the key. Sure, it’s flirting, which exactly what he’s pissed at Liam for, but the ends justify the means and all that, right?
Right.
He doesn’t really know when Liam’s going to get back as he settles into a chair in the very nice, very dark suite, and he’s not there very long before he wonders if this is really a good idea, and what Liam’s going to do to him over it. If this is really the best way to end their little... fling. If Liam’s going to be really, really pissed. If it isn’t all going to just end in a fight and Liam’s going to throw him out and never talk to him again.
Holy.
Fuck.
That’s a horrible enough thought that Brad gets up and goes for the door. Not worth it, this is so not worth it. He’s going to just go back to his own room, which is a lot smaller than Liam’s, now that he thinks about it, and hit the minibar and pass out and forget that the last few months ever happened, that Liam ever kissed him, that Liam ever...
His hand in on the knob and he’s really going to just go, but he can hear voices outside. One of them’s Liam’s, and that makes him smile just a little before he remembers how incredibly fucked he is now. But the other voice is a female’s.
So Brad sits back down in the nice little Scandinavian armchair and waits. Because he doesn’t care who finds out or what is going to happen when that door opens. Because that shit is not going to fly.
The door creaks on its hinges and there’s Liam, silhouetted against the light of the hallways, fucking laughing with that woman, whoever she is. Liam kisses her hand and she giggles and Brad’s half out of the chair. But the Irishman just backs up, inside now and shuts the door quietly behind, and Brad moves away, wanting to see what he’s going to do
He doesn’t flip on the lights right away, and by the noise, he takes his jacket off. Throws it on the small couch and hits the button that opens the blackout curtains. LA’s revealed in all its splendor, a million points of gold light brightening up the room just enough to see by. Liam stands there for a moment, looking out over it all, his shoulders slumped and his head hanging a little.
Brad learned a lot about this man during the shoot. That means he’s tired. Brad doesn’t care.
“Moving on that fast, Liam?”
Liam’s tall frame stiffens, straightens. “Bradley?” he asks, and goes for the light switch. There’s a little edge to his voice that makes the younger man’s cock twitch. “I’m not in the mood, boyo...”
Brad catches him before he gets there, closing a hand down over Liam’s. He’s not gentle about it. “So what, change your mind? Too tired to fuck her tonight?”
“I don’t know what you’re playing at...”
His other hand’s sliding up the wall to the switch and Brad catches that one, too. He pushes Liam’s hands up against his chest, moving them both backwards, until Liam’s back hits the opposite wall. He leans in, so he can practically taste Liam as he says, “lights stay off.”
“Brad...” Liam warns, trying to push forward.
“Shut up,” Bradley growls and shoves his lover back, lips almost touching. “Just shut up, sweetheart.”
They stare at each other in the near darkness. Just a moment, and then Liam lets his head fall back, eyes closed. Brad's lips crash down and everything, everywhere, just a for a moment, seems to stop.
Then things start going way too fast.
Brad’s not gentle about this. He attacks Liam’s mouth, thrusting his tongue between his lover’s lips, grazing teeth, demanding entrance, demanding compliance. For a moment, Liam tries to push back, but Brad’s not having any of that. His blood feels like it’s boiling, and he’s not sure if it’s from need or desire or anger or frustration or what, but it doesn’t matter. He is going to show Liam who he belongs to, right now. Right now, he’s in charge.
Liam’s still a little resistant, his body fighting the weight of Brad’s, squirming just a little as his hands grope for purchase between their chests. Brad breaks back, dragging his teeth over that perfect lower lip, listening to Liam’s gasps with marked pleasure, and pushes Liam’s wrists up over his head, slamming them against the wall. He pushes a knee between his lover’s legs, shoving them apart.
“Brad, what’s going on?” Liam whispers, voice tinged with... what is that, exactly? Fear? Hesitation? Lust?
Lust sounds good right now.
Brad’s going to go with lust.
The younger actor just grips his wrists tighter and fists a hand in Liam’s hair. “Shut up,” he whispers again, and this time, a shudder runs through Liam and he automatically opens up, surrendering to Brad as their lips meet again with bruising force. It’s intoxicating, devoring Liam like this, feeling the older man go pliant beneath him like this as Brad plunders his mouth, drawing whimpers that seem so out of character for his normally dominate lover.
Soon, too soon, Liam’s trying to say something, fighting against Brad’s hand, and the younger man drops his wrists, bringing that hand down to wrap around Liam’s waist and pull them tightly together, feeling Liam’s fingers ghost over the loose fabric of his suit pants, turning them both around and pushing them back in the direction of the bedroom, never losing contact, mouth and hands busy, roaming, leaving no inch of Liam’s body lonely.
The man’s wearing far too many clothes.
He can feel Liam’s erection pressing against his hip and smiles in the darkness.
“Mmm, Liam, you like this, don’t you?”
“...brat...” Liam manages to gasp before Brad swings him around the wall and half-open double doors to throw him down on the bed and straddle his legs. The Irishman pushes himself up on an elbow, tilting his head back in clear invitation, and Brad nips along his jaw, his throat, as he rips Liam’s shirt open and tugs it clean off.
Buttons hit the carpet in quiet little plops and Liam arches as the fabric’s forced over his head and arms. He’s breathing hard now and Brad smirks, lowering himself onto his hands, pressing the other man back into the bed.
“Do you like the attention, Liam? Letting all those woman throw themselves at you?”
“No...”
Brad licks a hot strip up Liam’s neck, right above the throbbing vein and pushes down against Liam’s erection. “I think you do. I think you need to remember...” He nibbles at Liam’s ear and starts moving down again. “Remember how this works between us.”
"How it works..." Liam sounds dazed, and that only makes Brad's arousal spiral higher.
"I'm yours," he growls, "which means that you're mine."
His lover groans as Brad captures a hard nipple between his teeth, teasing it lightly before clamping down, sucking hard. The noises coming from Liam, the way Liam’s hands shoot up to grab his hair, like he’s hold on for dear life, only serve to spur Brad on. His cock is throbbing, and already he can feel the telltale moisture against his own skin, but he has to ignore it right now, has to let Liam know how he feels about him, about this thing between them... and he bites.
Liam cries out beneath, thrashing, and the younger actor pulls back, startled at himself, feeling a flush beginning to spread up his cheeks. Did he really just do that? What the fuck's wrong with him?
“Oh, fuck, Liam, jesus, I don’t know... fuck...I’m sor...” he starts to say, but then Liam’s hand tugs him insistently back down, moaning, wanton and hot, as he flicks his own thumb over the love bite and brings his mouth up to Brad’s ear and says the hottest thing that Brad’s ever heard him say and he almost comes in his pants, right there, when Liam says...
“Fuck me.”
His hips thrust up and Brad tangles their legs together, pulling Liam closer, letting him feel the hardness between his own thighs. He can’t quite accept what Liam’s just said. His brain won’t quite process it. “What was, that, darling?”
Liam’s eyes are closed and he’s starting to sweat. “Brad, I need you... need you to...to...fuck me...”
It snaps all but his last thread of control. But Brad just can’t resist. He slaps Liam's hands away and sits back on Liam's thighs, just out of reach. “What’s the magic word, Liam?”
To the older man’s credit, there’s not a single second of hesitation. He doesn’t miss a beat. He rears up and fists his hands into Brad's shirt. The American thinks he hears a seam rip. “Please, oh god, Bradley, please fuck me...”
And there it goes. Vanished in the sweet explosion of those words. Self control utterly, utterly gone.
Brad’s not quite how he manages it, but it only feels like a matter of seconds before he’s got Liam stripped and whimpering and gets back over his legs, bracing himself with one arm on Liam’s shoulder. He kisses him one more time, hard and fast and thrilling. He wraps his hand around naked flesh and squeezes as he strokes down, letting a finger trail behind, softer, tracing a fat vein along the underside.
Liam’s magnificent cock is already leaking and he gives the head a light flick before letting his thumb play over the slit. Liam bucks, and only Brad’s hand, holding him down with everything’s he’s got, keeps him on the bed.
“You... fucking tease...”
“Shut up, darling, we’re going at my pace, remember?” Brad growls good-naturedly as he moves to cup Liam’s balls, rolling them in his palm. “You like this, don’t you? Me, here, over you?” Liam makes a strangled little noise as Brad lets down and stands up, fumbling with his belt. “Yeah, you love it. Tell me you love it.”
“Brad, I love... oh, fuck!”
Brad gets his pants down just enough, just far enough to say, “get on your belly right fucking now,” and have enough time to free his own aching length and move back in.
Liam shoves a pillow under his own hips, lifting that perfect ass high into view, as Brad retrieves the lube from his back pocket and slicks himself up. He positions himself, pausing a moment, trying to remember how Liam usually did this, what the best way to...
“Fuck, boyo, I’m dying here...”
Whatever.
He dribbles what he thinks is enough lube right down the top of Liam’s crack, loving the little shiver that runs through the Irishman at the cold sensation. He plays right over the top of Liam’s tight bud for just a second, fingering it, waiting until Liam makes another one of those utterly tasty little sounds again, and pulls his finger away.
“Bradley...”
“Shh, baby,” Brad says and lines up, loving the way the tip of his cock feels, sliding between those slick cheeks. “Shh, I gotcha.”
“I... oh, FUCK!”
Brad grabs Liam’s hips and shoves in in one hard, smooth motion. Tears spring to his eyes at the feel of Liam’s body, softer than he’d expected, opening up around him and letting him in, impossibly tight, incredibly hot, burning...
He pauses, just there, almost all the way in. “Oh, god, Liam...” he moans, and his lover thrusts back against him.
“Fuck me, Bradley Cooper...”
And his courage is back. He sinks all the way in until their hips are touching. Rotates his hips slightly, pulls almost all the way out and slams back in. Pulls out. Back in. Finds a pace, hard, like Liam would take him sometimes, and goes with it.
Liam buries his face in the pillows and wails.
“That’s it, darling,” Brad grunts, stroking the back of Liam’s neck. “I want to hear how good I’m making you feel.”
They’ve actually never done this before, he and Liam. Liam’s always, always topped, and Brad’s been okay with that. More than okay with that. But he’s never had this much control before, never been able to feel his man moaning and pulsing underneath him, around him, naked and exposed, as he pistons into him.
“Want to hear you crying out beneath me...”
He angles a little, and Liam practically screams into the pillows as Brad grazes his prostate.
“...want you to know that this is something no woman is ever going to give you....”
Brad smiles, closes his eyes and lets his head fall back in the darkness, trying to maintain the pace, driving down into his man again and again and again. He could get lost in this, he really could, let himself fall into that wonderful, wonderful warmth...
“...want you to know that we belong with each other, fit together perfectly...”
And when his fingers can feel those little shivers running through Liam, who seems to have lost the capability for rational speech at this point, he makes a decision. The American grits his teeth and pulls out completely, wrapping his hand around Liam’s waist and his cock and squeezes, staving off his lover's impending orgasm.
Drawing a loud wail of protest.
“Bradley, you son of a bitch...”
The younger man leans over, rubbing his still-clothed body all over that glorious expanse of skin as he goes, shifting his weight off Liam. “Turn over, baby,” he says, noticing how deep his own voice sounds, how hoarse, noting the involuntary shiver beneath him, and decides he loves calling Liam that.
He leans a little further, over to the nightstand, sliding that little switch up on its notch...
Soft light floods the room, unobtrusive, still dim, just bright enough to see. Just enough to smile down at Liam and get a good look at him, who looks utterly wrecked and utterly delicious, sweating and flushed, eyes flared wide and mouth slightly open, legs spreading slowly. God, that’s a lovely sight. He wants to remember that forever.
“What... happened to...no lights...”
Brad silences him with a swift slap on the ass and a light kiss, and Liam’s eyes roll back into his head.
The older actor’s cock is standing at full attention. It twitches at the slap and what a shame, a kink they never discovered before, and one they aren’t going to have time to explore now. Oh well, missed opportunities being what they were and everything...Brad maneuvers himself between Liam’s legs and nudges at a knee.
Liam takes the hint, fast, and wraps his legs up and around Bradley’s hips, arching up as Brad thrusts back into that intoxicating heat, so slick and open now...he gasps and pushes Liam’s knees wider with the palms of his hands. God, he’s so close, so close, and the way his lover’s biting his lips and screwing his eyes up, bed shaking on every downward thrust, Brad doesn’t know how much longer he’s going to be able to hold out on this, and then Liam fucking squeezes around him with a soft cry and grins and that’s it, he’s right there...
Panting, he fists Liam’s cock again, just once, and that’s all it takes to send his lover into orgasm, shouting Bradley’s name, squeezing down again, and the combination of those two things sends him over the edge. Liam’s milking Bradley’s own release from him even as he splatters his own all over their stomachs in hard, hot, long pulses, back in control now somehow, but the younger man can’t bring himself to care. Brad moans and stiffens, feeling the wonderful sensation as he fills Liam, knowing how good this always was for him, wondering how good it is for Liam, unable to think of anything except the way this feels, how good, how incredibly fucking good it is...
And he’s not really aware that he’s collapsed until he registers the feel Liam’s arms around him, cool, damp clothes trapping heat trying to escape from flushed skin, a big hand running through his sweaty hair, gasping for breath, muscles sore from exertion. They’re both breathing hard, trying to recover, and for long minutes, there’s nothing but silence.
“Hey,” Bradley finally whispers, smiling up at him, “I can’t believe you let me do that.”
“You and me both, boyo,” Liam says with a little, panting laugh, and strokes Brad’s hair again. He knows all his habits by now, after all those nights during the shoot. “Think you almost killed me.”
“That’s exhausting, topping,” he groans in reply. “I don’t know how you do it...”
“Stamina,” the Irishman says, and starts unbuttoning Bradley’s shirt, pulling it gently off. He pushes up onto his heels, tugging off Brad’s pants and briefs, throwing them off to hit the floor somewhere. Brad sighes as cool air hits his over-heated skin, and wonders at Liam. How in the hell does he recover so fast?
But it doesn’t matter. The aggression’s all burned out, jealousy gone, spilled out. He can relax again, he can relax into Liam as the man slides back up and pulls him in close. Brad sighes again, and lets his head fall back against Liam’s chest. He loves it, the part where Liam holds him like he’s something precious, makes him feel like this was all more than just fun during the shoot. And it has been fun...
“I’m paying you back in the morning.” Liam’s nose tickles his ear. “Ah, I haven’t been...that, that, in years.”
“I’m sorry, I just...”
“There’s nothing wrong, lad. ‘t was good for your first time in the driver’s seat. What got into you? You’ve never...”
“I’m jealous of them,” he admits. “Everybody who looks at you.”
“Bradley, that’s just how it is in our line of work. Everybody wants a piece of you,” Liam says gently, pushing damp locks off his forehead. “And, aye, who wouldn’t want a piece of you, you sexy man?”
“They all want you, Liam.”
“Oh, like who?”
He bites his lip. Might as well admit to it. “Like that woman at the door. I was just going to leave, and then that bullshit...”
Liam starts a little, and then chuckles. “Oh, is that was this was about?”
The flush is definitely back. “I...”
“Bradley, that was one of the maids. She wanted an autograph for her kids.”
Aw, shit.
He’s definitely blushing again, and Liam’s laughing at him now, and he just wants to slink away and hide. God, he’s such an idiot... but Liam tightens his arms and laughs harder, letting him know it’s all forgiven. Telling him that everything’s okay, that they’re right here together now, and isn’t that how it’s supposed to be, and may never be again?
But Brad doesn’t want to think about the future.
Right now is good, just like it is.
