Method Acting
Dec. 30th, 2010 03:55 pm![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
sonora_conejaPairing: Bradley/Sharlto
Rating: NC-17
Warnings: none
Summary: A fill for this prompt on the kink meme.
*nervous*
Sharlto/Bradley RPS?
please? just a little?
Sharlto and Bradley need to work on their chemistry as Murdock and Face. Needless to say this, err, involves chemistry.
Beer in hand, Bradley landed back on the trailer’s small sofa with a grateful little grunt. This was his fourth one of the evening, the alcohol only now beginning to take the edge off what had been a thoroughly unpleasant afternoon. During any movie, there were good days and bad days, and today definitely qualified as the latter. Joe hadn’t been happy with any of the dailies at all, and it wasn’t like they were doing anything extreme. Simple, stuff stuff. Team stuff.
Cut, cut, CUT! Bradley, Sharlto, get with the program...
He grimaced. Sharlto had gotten it worse than he had, a long talk with Joe after wrapping for the day, after which the South African had slunk away. Something to do with the way he was playing Murdock.
He didn’t think there was anything particularly wrong with it. Sharlto had that crazy thing down to an almost scary degree, switched back and forth between accents and personas just like he was supposed to be doing, so what could possibly be the...
“Hey, Brad?”
The American actor felt the world lurch just a little bit as he looked up from the table to see the man himself, Sharlto, standing right there at the door. “Oh, hey, man.”
“Hope this isn’t...”
“Naw, don’t worry about it,” Brad said, patting the seat next to him, and Sharlto locked the door behind him, but just stood there. Didn’t go over. Something to that... and then Bradley noticed the hard drive in the other man’s hand. He kept everything digital. “A-Team?”
“Joe says we’re not quite there with the characters. Chemistry’s not quite working between Face and Murdock yet,” he said, waving the drive. The American noticed he was using his character’s accent, and something about that... “I’ve been doing some research.”
“I thought you had this show memorized or something,” Bradley replied. The other man had some kind of love affair with the A-Team. Favorite show as a boy, he’d always said, and the way he played Murdock certaintly seemed to support that. “You want a beer or something?” he added, taking another long, cold draw off his own bottle.
Sharlto bit his lip and shook his head.
“Then sit down, man. You’re makin’ me nervous.”
“There’s not just the show, though, you know, for research,” Sharlto said with a little grin, and hit the cushion next to Brad. “There’s a lot of stuff we should probably...”
“Like what? The comics?”
“Those are rubbish,” Sharlto said with a little snort. “How old were you during the Gulf War?”
“Good point,” Brad replied. “But then...”
The South African tapped the plastic of the drive. “There are quite, uh, quite a few stories about the team online that...”
“Oh, oh, no,” Brad said, pinching his nose. “You’re talking about fanfic, aren’t you?”
“No,” and the other man actually managed to look injured. “I’m talking about slash...”
He groaned, louder this time. “Jesus, Sharlto. If I had a nickle for every time I’ve seen a story about Phil fucking Alan...”
“You and Galifinakas? Yeah, that’s worse that the stuff about Christopher and me.”
“From District 9?”
Sharlto nodded and smiled a little.
“Before or after the whole...”
“Oh, that all depends. I read a really great one where it sort of happens in between...”
Bradley groaned again, and dropped his head into his hands. Yeah, definitely swimming, and he left the beer alone. . “Not, not an image I needed right now. What does this have to do with...” But it was a stupid question, he realized. Because Sharlto’s hand was on the small of his back, trailing up his spine, and god did that feel good, and of course the damn fangirls would think...
“What about it?” Sharlto asked, the tips of his finger playing along the stubble on Bradley’s neck, soft and insistent, and there was that Texas accent again. He waggled the drive. “Got all my favorites saved. You wanna see what Face and Murdock were really up to?”
Those fingers really were amazing, weren’t they? “Oh, fuck, Sharlto...” the American muttered, and then felt his face go flush. No, no, not that...
He laughed a little and put the drive aside. “Or maybe I can just show you. How’bout it?”
“You can’t base our characters off that! It’s not like it’s canon or...” he tried to say before his fraying self-control finally snapped.
That hand moved a little, around to the front of his face, curling up under Bradley’s chin and pulling him up. “Course it is,” he drawled out in Murdock’s voice. “The show’s full’a UST...”
“UST?”
“Unresolved sexual tension,” Sharlto said, tugging lovingly on every syllable. “And it’s just so darn ‘pparent, dontcha think? Them two’s in love and you know it. That’s what we need...”
He shifted a little on the sofa. It wasn’t like he hadn’t before, wasn’t like he hadn’t thought about Sharlto like that, but still... “I don’t know...”
“Come on, Bradley,” the South African purred, sliding his other hand around the American’s hip, pulling him around until he had to bring a bare foot up on the cushions, and Sharlto scooted forward, trapping it against the back of the sofa. Really, really close. “We gotta get that kind of connection to make this thing work ‘tween Face and Murdock.”
Bradley felt like he was falling backwards, and grabbed a handful of Sharlto’s shirt. Just for support. Of course. “Didn’t know you were such a method actor,” he laughed nervously.
The other man broke into a full-out smile and moved his hand under Bradley’s shirt, tightened his grip on his hair, holding him, and then their lips touched, soft, just once, a little overture, and Sharlto pulled back just enough so Bradley could see the arousal in his eyes. It was a good look on him.
“Yeah?” he asked, and Bradley licked his lips and ran a hand up his arm, feeling a shiver.
“You stayin’ with Murdock there, buddy?” Bradley asked back, just like he thought Face might, and got another quick grin as Sharlto moved in.
There wasn’t anything forceful about it at first, no more kissing quite yet, gentle contact, Sharlto’s hand smoothing down over his stomach, easing out the tension, rubbing his own hand down the other actor’s arm, smiling at the feel of goosebumps as he passed. Brad relaxed into the light contact. What were they doing, Face and Murdock...
“They’re close, those two,” Sharlto murmured in his ear, pressing closer, “and Murdock don’t pay no notice to personal boundaries...”
“Face doesn’t want to hurt him?” Bradley guessed.
“Crazy don’t mean a fella don’t got needs, Faceman,” Sharlto replied, and swung a leg over Bradley’s, so he was sitting right on his thigh, cock quite clearly hardening. “Murdock’s gotta lot of needs...”
“...Face wants...”
“Shh,” and Sharlto laid another of those soft kisses on his lips. “Who’s tellin’ the story here, anyway?”
“Sorry, Murdock,” he whispered back, feeling a stab of heat rush through him with calling Sharlto that. “I just want to help you out.”
“’T’s always cold in the VA, Faceman. Cold and drugs and nothing real and my team ain’t there...”
“I’m here with you now...”
“... wanna feel you, Face...” and Sharlto wrapped himself fully around the other actor, up onto his lap, cheek laying against Bradley’s own. “Can I?”
“Anything, Murdock.”
“I can always come to you,” Sharlto replied, and for a crazy second, right as the other man cupped his face and leaned in for a kiss, Bradley could have sworn it actually was Murdock.
The kiss wasn’t like the first little offer. This was strong and hard, almost desperate, Sharlto conveying every ounce of the relief his character must have felt every time he was reunited with his... best friend? Teammate? Lover?
Bradley didn’t know and he didn’t care, because Face was going to take care of it. It was part of his job, something he didn’t mind, something that didn’t involve lying and guns and killing...
He wrapped his hands down that bundle of warmth in his lap - whoever it was - and slipped lower, pulling his ass up a little. And it must have been appreciated, he noted with an internal grin, because Murdock moaned into him at that, and bit his lip, readjusting, and dove back in, driving his tongue into Face’s mouth, eager and just a little bit sloppy, setting every nerve alight, and both men groaned together. Oh god, Bradley thought to himself, it should be like this between them, just like this...
Bradley pressed Sharlto back a little and felt a scrape of teeth as the other man held onto his lower lip, just a little. The South African was positively edible, eyes half closed and flushed, lips just a little swollen. Unable to resist, the American rubbed his thumb right across and was rewarded with a little nibble, right along the nail.
“What do you need, buddy?” he whispered, leaning against a hard shoulder.
Murdock grabbed Face around the back of his neck and started tearing at his shirt. “Skin...”
Bradley nodded and rid himself of the offending garment. “And yours, buddy,” he said in a low voice, shaking just a little, and started peeling off Sharlto’s layers, Murdock’s costume, the leather jacket and the baseball cap and the I Love Cryptozoology t-shirt that actually might have belonged to Sharlto after all.
Murdock grinned, and dove for Face’s buckle with frenetic strength, sliding away the designer jeans and the briefs and, kicking off his shoes, went for his own.
“Let me,” Face replied with a genuine smile and starting stripping him gently, making sure not to make any sudden moves, trying not to startle what would be a very nervous pilot. Sharlto was grinning though the character, though, and shrugged his shirt off as Bradley worked on his pants, and before long they were both naked and the South African was grinding down on the American’s lap, trapping his cock between them.
“Eager there much, buddy?” Face teased, and tickled his fingers down Murdock’s sides, cupping his ass and tugging him forward, just a little, enough for his rapidly swelling length to spring free. They both groaned as they moved together, finding a position that worked for both of them. Face had to bite back an embarrassing whimper as his now rock-hard erection slid between his best friend’s cheeks. “Oh god,” he managed, “right fucking there...”
The pilot grinned wider, and then Murdock was kissing him again with abandon, hands twisted up in caramel-colored hair, rubbing against every inch of toned, tanned body that he could manage.
When he finally pulled back, panting hard, Face wasn’t sure what to expect. Every nerve was on fire. He ran a hand up and then down through that light chest hair, trying to sit up and recapture that glorious mouth. But the pilot clearly had other plans, because, lightning quick, he darted out of range and reached down to retrieve his jeans.
“What are you...”
“Jus’ lie back, Faceman, I got everything.”
Through the haze of his arousal, the swirling scent of sweat and sex that was filling the trailer, American thought he heard a faint rip, and then he was sure he had, because Sharlto’s hand was on his cock again, smooth and cool and slicking him up. Bradley tried to shoot up again, for different reasons this time, and once again, he was pushed back.
“Hey, man, you don’t have to...”
“’S’all good, buddy,” came the flushed response, and Bradley let himself fall backwards, unaware of how tense he was, and Sharlto gave him a little reassuring squeeze with his thighs, tweaking a nipple. It was too narrow on the couch for this, and Bradley’s leg was hanging off, and Sharlto quite clearly didn’t care about any of that. And honestly, why should he? Murdock wouldn’t. “Want you...”
And before Bradley could vocalize another reason why this was a bad idea, he forgot what it was completely as Sharlto sank down on him in one long, delicious move, hot and tight but not quite as tight he should have been, and he raised an eyebrow even as he let himself be guided to a firm grip on the South African's hips.
“Murdock never can wait,” the other man whispered in his ear, Texan accent gone husky and deep now. He lifted himself up and dropped back down.
“Oh, fuck... neither... can Face,” Bradley choked out, trying not to embarrass himself too much by begging Sharlto to keep going. But he didn’t need to.
Bent at some strange angle, there was one more little kiss and then the other actor was moving above him, on the receiving end but still very, very much in control, and the thought of that turned him on almost as much as the clenching heat, the delicious slide, the obscene sound of flesh smacking down on flesh, and as his senses starting shorting out, one by one, Bradley dimly felt fingers intertwine over his, guiding his hands, wrapping one around his own cock, hot flesh slick with precum.
The two of them worked on that rhythm together, finding it, Sharlto changing the angle and moaning on every thrust as Bradley grew bolder and started meeting him halfway, stroking him in time with every snap of his hips, both of them beyond words until Bradley felt that coil inside him winding tighter, near snapping...
“Oh, fuck... Sharlto, I’m going to...”
“Don’t you dare pull out,” the South African warned, his own voice peeking through the Texan drawl, lost himself, and Bradley felt the other man squeeze down hard, and that was it, he was there, high and whiting out, screaming his release deep into his friend, loving the feel of that body shuddering around him. There was the hot splash of Sharlto’s own against his chest, and all that smooth muscle against his own and it wasn’t until he felt the last weak pulses die down, when he came down to earth again, with the last of his orgasm rippling through his body, that Bradley realized there was a hand held down over his mouth.
He licked up at that palm, and then grabbed, kissing it, grateful for Sharlto’s presence of mind to keep them both relatively quiet. They were still on the set.
“You’re gorgeous,” he murmured as the weight of his friend slid off him and off the narrow little sofa.
Sharlto came back with a wet rag and a smile, cleaning them both off carefully, and laid one last little kiss on Bradley’s lips. “You don’t have to play at it, Brad. We’re done....”
“I mean it, Sharlto.”
That smile faltered a little, like the South African hadn’t thought about this particular outcome to their activities, and Brad couldn’t have that. He brushed his fingers against the other man’s waist again, noting a couple of small little bruises there. “Can I just have, you know, you next time?”
That smile was back, and grew a little wider as the other actor grabbed Bradley’s laptop from its perch on the counter. He brandished the file CD he’d brought over.
“Need some ideas?” he asked. “I’ve got some very nice RPS on this, too. Fangirls are already on it for the movie, you know...”
Bradley cocked hi head just a little, trying to shove his boneless form into some semblance of sitting up. “RPS?” he asked.
Judging from the face-splitting grin, this was going to be good. Or terrifying. Regardless, he didn't have the strength to stop the other man from opening the file. And, if he was honest with himself, he didn't really want to.
At least, not until Sharlto started reading aloud.
Rating: NC-17
Warnings: none
Summary: A fill for this prompt on the kink meme.
*nervous*
Sharlto/Bradley RPS?
please? just a little?
Sharlto and Bradley need to work on their chemistry as Murdock and Face. Needless to say this, err, involves chemistry.
Beer in hand, Bradley landed back on the trailer’s small sofa with a grateful little grunt. This was his fourth one of the evening, the alcohol only now beginning to take the edge off what had been a thoroughly unpleasant afternoon. During any movie, there were good days and bad days, and today definitely qualified as the latter. Joe hadn’t been happy with any of the dailies at all, and it wasn’t like they were doing anything extreme. Simple, stuff stuff. Team stuff.
Cut, cut, CUT! Bradley, Sharlto, get with the program...
He grimaced. Sharlto had gotten it worse than he had, a long talk with Joe after wrapping for the day, after which the South African had slunk away. Something to do with the way he was playing Murdock.
He didn’t think there was anything particularly wrong with it. Sharlto had that crazy thing down to an almost scary degree, switched back and forth between accents and personas just like he was supposed to be doing, so what could possibly be the...
“Hey, Brad?”
The American actor felt the world lurch just a little bit as he looked up from the table to see the man himself, Sharlto, standing right there at the door. “Oh, hey, man.”
“Hope this isn’t...”
“Naw, don’t worry about it,” Brad said, patting the seat next to him, and Sharlto locked the door behind him, but just stood there. Didn’t go over. Something to that... and then Bradley noticed the hard drive in the other man’s hand. He kept everything digital. “A-Team?”
“Joe says we’re not quite there with the characters. Chemistry’s not quite working between Face and Murdock yet,” he said, waving the drive. The American noticed he was using his character’s accent, and something about that... “I’ve been doing some research.”
“I thought you had this show memorized or something,” Bradley replied. The other man had some kind of love affair with the A-Team. Favorite show as a boy, he’d always said, and the way he played Murdock certaintly seemed to support that. “You want a beer or something?” he added, taking another long, cold draw off his own bottle.
Sharlto bit his lip and shook his head.
“Then sit down, man. You’re makin’ me nervous.”
“There’s not just the show, though, you know, for research,” Sharlto said with a little grin, and hit the cushion next to Brad. “There’s a lot of stuff we should probably...”
“Like what? The comics?”
“Those are rubbish,” Sharlto said with a little snort. “How old were you during the Gulf War?”
“Good point,” Brad replied. “But then...”
The South African tapped the plastic of the drive. “There are quite, uh, quite a few stories about the team online that...”
“Oh, oh, no,” Brad said, pinching his nose. “You’re talking about fanfic, aren’t you?”
“No,” and the other man actually managed to look injured. “I’m talking about slash...”
He groaned, louder this time. “Jesus, Sharlto. If I had a nickle for every time I’ve seen a story about Phil fucking Alan...”
“You and Galifinakas? Yeah, that’s worse that the stuff about Christopher and me.”
“From District 9?”
Sharlto nodded and smiled a little.
“Before or after the whole...”
“Oh, that all depends. I read a really great one where it sort of happens in between...”
Bradley groaned again, and dropped his head into his hands. Yeah, definitely swimming, and he left the beer alone. . “Not, not an image I needed right now. What does this have to do with...” But it was a stupid question, he realized. Because Sharlto’s hand was on the small of his back, trailing up his spine, and god did that feel good, and of course the damn fangirls would think...
“What about it?” Sharlto asked, the tips of his finger playing along the stubble on Bradley’s neck, soft and insistent, and there was that Texas accent again. He waggled the drive. “Got all my favorites saved. You wanna see what Face and Murdock were really up to?”
Those fingers really were amazing, weren’t they? “Oh, fuck, Sharlto...” the American muttered, and then felt his face go flush. No, no, not that...
He laughed a little and put the drive aside. “Or maybe I can just show you. How’bout it?”
“You can’t base our characters off that! It’s not like it’s canon or...” he tried to say before his fraying self-control finally snapped.
That hand moved a little, around to the front of his face, curling up under Bradley’s chin and pulling him up. “Course it is,” he drawled out in Murdock’s voice. “The show’s full’a UST...”
“UST?”
“Unresolved sexual tension,” Sharlto said, tugging lovingly on every syllable. “And it’s just so darn ‘pparent, dontcha think? Them two’s in love and you know it. That’s what we need...”
He shifted a little on the sofa. It wasn’t like he hadn’t before, wasn’t like he hadn’t thought about Sharlto like that, but still... “I don’t know...”
“Come on, Bradley,” the South African purred, sliding his other hand around the American’s hip, pulling him around until he had to bring a bare foot up on the cushions, and Sharlto scooted forward, trapping it against the back of the sofa. Really, really close. “We gotta get that kind of connection to make this thing work ‘tween Face and Murdock.”
Bradley felt like he was falling backwards, and grabbed a handful of Sharlto’s shirt. Just for support. Of course. “Didn’t know you were such a method actor,” he laughed nervously.
The other man broke into a full-out smile and moved his hand under Bradley’s shirt, tightened his grip on his hair, holding him, and then their lips touched, soft, just once, a little overture, and Sharlto pulled back just enough so Bradley could see the arousal in his eyes. It was a good look on him.
“Yeah?” he asked, and Bradley licked his lips and ran a hand up his arm, feeling a shiver.
“You stayin’ with Murdock there, buddy?” Bradley asked back, just like he thought Face might, and got another quick grin as Sharlto moved in.
There wasn’t anything forceful about it at first, no more kissing quite yet, gentle contact, Sharlto’s hand smoothing down over his stomach, easing out the tension, rubbing his own hand down the other actor’s arm, smiling at the feel of goosebumps as he passed. Brad relaxed into the light contact. What were they doing, Face and Murdock...
“They’re close, those two,” Sharlto murmured in his ear, pressing closer, “and Murdock don’t pay no notice to personal boundaries...”
“Face doesn’t want to hurt him?” Bradley guessed.
“Crazy don’t mean a fella don’t got needs, Faceman,” Sharlto replied, and swung a leg over Bradley’s, so he was sitting right on his thigh, cock quite clearly hardening. “Murdock’s gotta lot of needs...”
“...Face wants...”
“Shh,” and Sharlto laid another of those soft kisses on his lips. “Who’s tellin’ the story here, anyway?”
“Sorry, Murdock,” he whispered back, feeling a stab of heat rush through him with calling Sharlto that. “I just want to help you out.”
“’T’s always cold in the VA, Faceman. Cold and drugs and nothing real and my team ain’t there...”
“I’m here with you now...”
“... wanna feel you, Face...” and Sharlto wrapped himself fully around the other actor, up onto his lap, cheek laying against Bradley’s own. “Can I?”
“Anything, Murdock.”
“I can always come to you,” Sharlto replied, and for a crazy second, right as the other man cupped his face and leaned in for a kiss, Bradley could have sworn it actually was Murdock.
The kiss wasn’t like the first little offer. This was strong and hard, almost desperate, Sharlto conveying every ounce of the relief his character must have felt every time he was reunited with his... best friend? Teammate? Lover?
Bradley didn’t know and he didn’t care, because Face was going to take care of it. It was part of his job, something he didn’t mind, something that didn’t involve lying and guns and killing...
He wrapped his hands down that bundle of warmth in his lap - whoever it was - and slipped lower, pulling his ass up a little. And it must have been appreciated, he noted with an internal grin, because Murdock moaned into him at that, and bit his lip, readjusting, and dove back in, driving his tongue into Face’s mouth, eager and just a little bit sloppy, setting every nerve alight, and both men groaned together. Oh god, Bradley thought to himself, it should be like this between them, just like this...
Bradley pressed Sharlto back a little and felt a scrape of teeth as the other man held onto his lower lip, just a little. The South African was positively edible, eyes half closed and flushed, lips just a little swollen. Unable to resist, the American rubbed his thumb right across and was rewarded with a little nibble, right along the nail.
“What do you need, buddy?” he whispered, leaning against a hard shoulder.
Murdock grabbed Face around the back of his neck and started tearing at his shirt. “Skin...”
Bradley nodded and rid himself of the offending garment. “And yours, buddy,” he said in a low voice, shaking just a little, and started peeling off Sharlto’s layers, Murdock’s costume, the leather jacket and the baseball cap and the I Love Cryptozoology t-shirt that actually might have belonged to Sharlto after all.
Murdock grinned, and dove for Face’s buckle with frenetic strength, sliding away the designer jeans and the briefs and, kicking off his shoes, went for his own.
“Let me,” Face replied with a genuine smile and starting stripping him gently, making sure not to make any sudden moves, trying not to startle what would be a very nervous pilot. Sharlto was grinning though the character, though, and shrugged his shirt off as Bradley worked on his pants, and before long they were both naked and the South African was grinding down on the American’s lap, trapping his cock between them.
“Eager there much, buddy?” Face teased, and tickled his fingers down Murdock’s sides, cupping his ass and tugging him forward, just a little, enough for his rapidly swelling length to spring free. They both groaned as they moved together, finding a position that worked for both of them. Face had to bite back an embarrassing whimper as his now rock-hard erection slid between his best friend’s cheeks. “Oh god,” he managed, “right fucking there...”
The pilot grinned wider, and then Murdock was kissing him again with abandon, hands twisted up in caramel-colored hair, rubbing against every inch of toned, tanned body that he could manage.
When he finally pulled back, panting hard, Face wasn’t sure what to expect. Every nerve was on fire. He ran a hand up and then down through that light chest hair, trying to sit up and recapture that glorious mouth. But the pilot clearly had other plans, because, lightning quick, he darted out of range and reached down to retrieve his jeans.
“What are you...”
“Jus’ lie back, Faceman, I got everything.”
Through the haze of his arousal, the swirling scent of sweat and sex that was filling the trailer, American thought he heard a faint rip, and then he was sure he had, because Sharlto’s hand was on his cock again, smooth and cool and slicking him up. Bradley tried to shoot up again, for different reasons this time, and once again, he was pushed back.
“Hey, man, you don’t have to...”
“’S’all good, buddy,” came the flushed response, and Bradley let himself fall backwards, unaware of how tense he was, and Sharlto gave him a little reassuring squeeze with his thighs, tweaking a nipple. It was too narrow on the couch for this, and Bradley’s leg was hanging off, and Sharlto quite clearly didn’t care about any of that. And honestly, why should he? Murdock wouldn’t. “Want you...”
And before Bradley could vocalize another reason why this was a bad idea, he forgot what it was completely as Sharlto sank down on him in one long, delicious move, hot and tight but not quite as tight he should have been, and he raised an eyebrow even as he let himself be guided to a firm grip on the South African's hips.
“Murdock never can wait,” the other man whispered in his ear, Texan accent gone husky and deep now. He lifted himself up and dropped back down.
“Oh, fuck... neither... can Face,” Bradley choked out, trying not to embarrass himself too much by begging Sharlto to keep going. But he didn’t need to.
Bent at some strange angle, there was one more little kiss and then the other actor was moving above him, on the receiving end but still very, very much in control, and the thought of that turned him on almost as much as the clenching heat, the delicious slide, the obscene sound of flesh smacking down on flesh, and as his senses starting shorting out, one by one, Bradley dimly felt fingers intertwine over his, guiding his hands, wrapping one around his own cock, hot flesh slick with precum.
The two of them worked on that rhythm together, finding it, Sharlto changing the angle and moaning on every thrust as Bradley grew bolder and started meeting him halfway, stroking him in time with every snap of his hips, both of them beyond words until Bradley felt that coil inside him winding tighter, near snapping...
“Oh, fuck... Sharlto, I’m going to...”
“Don’t you dare pull out,” the South African warned, his own voice peeking through the Texan drawl, lost himself, and Bradley felt the other man squeeze down hard, and that was it, he was there, high and whiting out, screaming his release deep into his friend, loving the feel of that body shuddering around him. There was the hot splash of Sharlto’s own against his chest, and all that smooth muscle against his own and it wasn’t until he felt the last weak pulses die down, when he came down to earth again, with the last of his orgasm rippling through his body, that Bradley realized there was a hand held down over his mouth.
He licked up at that palm, and then grabbed, kissing it, grateful for Sharlto’s presence of mind to keep them both relatively quiet. They were still on the set.
“You’re gorgeous,” he murmured as the weight of his friend slid off him and off the narrow little sofa.
Sharlto came back with a wet rag and a smile, cleaning them both off carefully, and laid one last little kiss on Bradley’s lips. “You don’t have to play at it, Brad. We’re done....”
“I mean it, Sharlto.”
That smile faltered a little, like the South African hadn’t thought about this particular outcome to their activities, and Brad couldn’t have that. He brushed his fingers against the other man’s waist again, noting a couple of small little bruises there. “Can I just have, you know, you next time?”
That smile was back, and grew a little wider as the other actor grabbed Bradley’s laptop from its perch on the counter. He brandished the file CD he’d brought over.
“Need some ideas?” he asked. “I’ve got some very nice RPS on this, too. Fangirls are already on it for the movie, you know...”
Bradley cocked hi head just a little, trying to shove his boneless form into some semblance of sitting up. “RPS?” he asked.
Judging from the face-splitting grin, this was going to be good. Or terrifying. Regardless, he didn't have the strength to stop the other man from opening the file. And, if he was honest with himself, he didn't really want to.
At least, not until Sharlto started reading aloud.
