Measuring Up - DVD Extras
Feb. 10th, 2011 07:01 pm![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
sonora_conejaPairing: Bradley Cooper/Face
Rating: NC-17
Warnings: umm... I don’t even know what to lable this one
Summary: A fill for this prompt on the kink meme
All these RPS prompts recently are very awesome, but we forgot one!!!
Face/Brad!
After the shoot, Bradley Cooper has a little encounter with Templeton Peck.
Bradley dropped his backpack off by his bedroom door and resisted the urge to just fall face-first into bed. His own bed. Thank god. Finally. It'd been far, far too long.
Own bed, own shower, own room, own house. Fuck, the shoot, traveling, long days, long nights, Liam, Hannibal, Face...
At least the shoot was over, he figured as he stripped down, leaving clothes everywhere, and made for his shower. The promotion circuit would begin pretty soon, calls from his agent about new projects, new scripts, trying to get back the groove of things and losing it again. Moving on from one thing, into another.
He was going to miss Face, Bradley realized as he lathered a little too much shampoo into his hair. The arrogant, brash, deadly sexy, oh-so-vulnerable conman had been such a part of him lately...and he looked down at the Ranger's tan, muscle mass, already fading without the constant maintenance he'd had to do during the shoot. Ran a hand down his own stomach, across his arms, everything soapy and slick under the pounding, wonderfully warm water coursing out of no fewer than seven different showerheads built into the wall and ceiling. Face, hedonist that he was, would have loved it. Bradley could just imagine it.
"Oh, did I get us a good place or what?" he would have groaned, and then made a big fuss about getting out his French skin-creams... "Hannibal, come join me for a shower!"
Oh well, Bradley shrugged, that was over now, and scrunched his eyes shut, sticking his whole head under the spray. It was the cheap stuff, the stuff his publicist would yell at him for using...
"You know that's going to dry out your hair, right?"
Brad froze and jerked his head up, opened his eyes, and immediately regretted it. "Aww, shit!" he nearly shouted, suds running into his eyes, stinging something awful. Really, really hurt. And he jumped as he did it and banged his toe and hit his back against the tile wall. It wasn't fair. He was such a klutz sometimes, and Face had been so graceful...
"Shh, Brad. It's okay, here..."
The actor felt soft, wet skin touch his own face. Thumbs wiping the blur of the shampoo out of his eyes, easy and gentle, something iron-hard, right under the surface. He leaned into it a little, remembering how Liam liked to touch him like that sometimes, and his head was tilted back, washing everything clean.
"See? Better?"
Bradley nodded, dashing the extra water out of his face but not wanting to look yet. He knew that voice, his own voice, really, just slightly different, and it didn't make any sense. "Yeah, uh, and..."
"Just, yeah, man, let me get it," his own voice offered, and Bradley just nodded, mute, biting the inside of his cheek.
A washcloth, already warm, still a little dry, ran up from his navel to circle the back of his neck. "Bradley," that voice urged again, "come on, buddy, look at me."
Still afraid to speak, Brad did as he was asked, dropped his head and blinked a few times. Through the blur and his own still slightly smeared vision, he thought he saw somebody else standing in front of him. One hand with the cloth, stroking slowly over his chest. The other resting right beside his head on the wall of the pounding shower. Roughly his height, his size, his smile...
But not his tattoo. Not that body.
"Oh, fuck," he groaned again, and Face's hand left the wall to cup his cheek. Bradley caught it, feeling those strong fingers against his, feeling his breath start to shallow, quicken.
"It's okay," the conman said, words as easy against Brad's face as his hand was. "It's okay."
Bradley gulped. "It is?"
"Yeah. The team just needed a place to crash for the night, and I thought you were still out of town, shooting our movie," Face said, the very picture of innocence.
But Face didn't miss details. Not important ones like that. Brad knew enough about the conman, had spent enough time in the other man’s skin, to know that, and laughed a little. "You knew I was coming home tonight."
And the lieutenant had that cute, little-boy expression, earnest and honest, out on display. But Brad wasn't falling for it, knew him far too well for that, and the other man finally broke as they eyed each other suspicious. "Yeah, well," he mumbled, "I kinda wanted to meet the guy who was playing me."
"And?" Brad asked, a flutter of nervousness running through him, wondering if he was going to...
"Not bad. We kinda look similar, dead sexy and everything. So that's good." He poured more shower gel into the washcloth and started moving a little lower. "But, hmm, I think I need to do a comprehensive inspection, see if we’ve got mutual desires, if you channel the my natural intensity just as well as you bring the irresistable cuteness," Face teased, and, taking a handful of Bradley’s wet hair in his own hand, brought their lips softly together.
It was a quick little brush, but one that left the actor open-mouthed, staring. Face chuckled. "Like that?"
"God, yes."
"Mmm," the lieutenant said and the cloth dipped lower, wrapping, full and lovely, around Bradley's rapidly expanding enthusiasm. "Want more?"
Trying to formulate a response got Bradley nowhere, because that expert hand starting rolling his balls, stroking his engorged shaft. The pressure from that palm, the roughed cotton terrycloth, the way Face moved in and started kissing him again, hints of teeth. It grew a little stronger, more forceful then, some of that lithe body's strength coming into play now, and before he knew what was happening, Bradley found himself plastered against the wall, the warm water sluicing down between them, heightening the sense of everything, unable to do anything but cry out his climax into Face's talented mouth, talented hand.
Gasping for air, Bradley let his head hit back against the tile, a pair of amused night-blue eyes grinning back at him.
"I love coming like that too. Love it in the shower," Face whispered. "So good, we've got that in common."
"Oh," Bradley groaned, feeling the echoes of his orgasm skating under his skin. "You are such a bastard..."
"Yeah," Face murmured, still working Bradley's cock. "And you loved that about playing me, didn't you? Loved the uniform, the guns, fighting, all the fucking..." Face dropped the washcloth at that and ran both hands up, heavy, resting right over the actor's pecs, let his thumbs start playing those nipples into stiff little peaks. His tongue licked a dry path up the actor's neck, right to his ear. Brad could feel himself getting hard again, and fisting his hands, beat them back against the tile. He couldn't even struggle against this.
Face wouldn't let him.
And he didn't want to.
"You enjoyed that most of all, didn't you? Knowing you could take anyone as a Ranger. Knowing that aggression gets brought into my bed, that it’s overpowered, knowing Hannibal takes Face with all of it, everything pushing and mixing and coming together...pure seduction...come on, I want to hear you say it..."
"Say what?" the actor asked and Face wrinkled his nose, like something smelled funny.
"Dude, that Faceman Peck's a sex god," and that hand tightened, "no matter which team he's batting for. And you loved every second of it."
Sex god? Bradley wanted to laugh, but the next kiss from Face, hard and bruising, tongue thrusting, demanding submission, wiped that all from his mind. No matter what Liam tried to do to wipe it from his mind...
“You wouldn’t have found him without me,” Face murmured. "You know that. You loved playing me because I set you free to find him..."
“Who?” Brad asked warily. Could Face read his mind? It would make sense, Face being able to read his mind...
But that cocksure Ranger just kept going, ignoring the question entirely. “Liam was your first, wasn’t he?” Face asked, his words mixing with the melodic fall of the water around them. “That’s good. Hannibal was mine. Bent me over a table in the middle of our first mission, took me, gave me what I needed... that’s how it was for you, with Liam, wasn’t it?”
“Yeah,” Bradley whispered back, feeling another stab of envy. Liam had never truly claimed him, not like what Hannibal had with Face. "That's how it felt."
“He’s a great guy, our man, isn’t he?”
Bradley caught one of the lieutenant’s hands, surprised at the little rise of anger that got out of him. “Liam’s mine.”
But Face must have understood, because he just smiled and kissed Brad again. “And Hannibal’s mine, but don’t tell me you haven’t played around with us before. I know you have, you both have. It’s okay, it’s all okay...if you're jealous of me," Face finished proudly. Those perfect white teeth nipped on his ear. "And now you want to feel it, don't you?"
Brad tried to close his eyes, tried to will this away, but Face's hands were on him, Face's chest on his, groin, thighs, all of it, on him, and he couldn’t think of anything else. "...yes..."
"Awesome." And the conman’s grin was dazzling. “Gonna be so good, Bradley...”
Then Face turned him around, nice and easy, hands roaming, that chest undulating now against his back, driving him harder against the water-slick tile. His cock, rapidly hardening to fullness again, starting filling the conman's hand as he took it up again.
Two fingers slid into the cleft of his ass, right to that clenching ring os muscle, pushed in, soap-smooth and Bradley bucked back into it, moaning. It didn’t take long, Face finding that little pleasure nub, deep inside, barely touching it as he stretched the actor open with long, easy strokes, fisted his cock with equal care.
“I like it tight,” he whispered in Brad’s ear as he worked, withdrew his fingers and lined up, sensual little words easing his passage in. “Tight and almost painful, feels so good like that, love it like that, losing control, letting Hannibal take me, it has to be tight...” Bradley gasped, scrambling for air as Face breached him fully, sunk into him. “...tight like your tight ass, so great, take it all in...”
Bradley squirmed against the tile, wanting to get away from that pressure inside him, wanting to arch back into it, take Face deeper. But the Ranger was on point, and the Ranger was in control, and he couldn’t do anything but sob as that length slid in and out of him, little thrusts in time to to the hand around his cock, everything working together to bring them both to climax, and Brad felt teeth on his shoulder again, felt his own lips against tile, the tension in his gut building and rising and crashing over, splattering his belly and the wall and Face’s hand, Face’s hand, Face’s hand...
Face’s hand? Face? Oh, hell...
He let his forehead hit the wall, kicked at the abandoned washcloth by his foot, and with a slight wince, Brad withdrew his fingers, his own fingers, from his ass. He unwrapped his hand from his own cock. And there, in front of him, melting away down the drain, was the irrefutable evidence of what had just happened. He’d just come. Hard. Twice. Thinking about...
No, not thinking about that. He was not going to think about that.
He was never going to think about that again.
Bradley finished the rest of his shower in the quickest, most utilitarian manner he could manage. Dried off in his bedroom to avoid the mirror in the bathroom. He didn’t even bother pulling on a pair of boxers. His original plan sounded good. Really, really good. And he could blame his little masturbation session on travel and stress and the whole movie-making experience, instead of some unhealthy, bizarre kink, right?
Sounded like a plan, the exhausted actor decided, and punched a pillow into a more pleasant configuration, chasing sleep.
But there, right on the edge of blissful oblivion, in that weird half-state that comes right before tipping off into it fully, Brad made the mistake of glancing over to the doorway of his bedroom, where Face had a towel wrapped around his waist and Hannibal wrapped around his shoulder, catching little moments of their conversation.
“...I think he’s going to make a good Face, boss, look at how hard he came when I...”
“...did you really use the term sex god, kid...”
“...well, I am, aren’t I, Hannibal...”
“...you are such a brat, Temp...”
“...your brat, John, and you fucking love it so don’t even...”
Hannibal just growled and tugged at Face’s hand. Before the lieutenant let himself be led away, before it all faded away, he winked over his shoulder and threw a big thumbs-up in the direction of the bed.
Bradley smiled at that and melted into sleep.
When he woke at three the next day, and came down to the kitchen to grab whatever his housekeeper had stuffed the fridge with, he was a little disappointed not to find Murdock watching cartoons and bickering with BA in the living room, not seeing Hannibal laying out the Plan at the dining room table with satellite images and little green Army men, not to see Face hanging off his shoulder, smiling like the lunatic in love that he was...
Damn, Bradley thought, and sniffed at an open carton of milk from the top shelf, glanced around the mundane space, all the boring moments that stories got to skip over.
He was going to miss those guys a lot.
"There sure as shit better be a sequel," he muttered to himself and got on with his day.
Rating: NC-17
Warnings: umm... I don’t even know what to lable this one
Summary: A fill for this prompt on the kink meme
All these RPS prompts recently are very awesome, but we forgot one!!!
Face/Brad!
After the shoot, Bradley Cooper has a little encounter with Templeton Peck.
Bradley dropped his backpack off by his bedroom door and resisted the urge to just fall face-first into bed. His own bed. Thank god. Finally. It'd been far, far too long.
Own bed, own shower, own room, own house. Fuck, the shoot, traveling, long days, long nights, Liam, Hannibal, Face...
At least the shoot was over, he figured as he stripped down, leaving clothes everywhere, and made for his shower. The promotion circuit would begin pretty soon, calls from his agent about new projects, new scripts, trying to get back the groove of things and losing it again. Moving on from one thing, into another.
He was going to miss Face, Bradley realized as he lathered a little too much shampoo into his hair. The arrogant, brash, deadly sexy, oh-so-vulnerable conman had been such a part of him lately...and he looked down at the Ranger's tan, muscle mass, already fading without the constant maintenance he'd had to do during the shoot. Ran a hand down his own stomach, across his arms, everything soapy and slick under the pounding, wonderfully warm water coursing out of no fewer than seven different showerheads built into the wall and ceiling. Face, hedonist that he was, would have loved it. Bradley could just imagine it.
"Oh, did I get us a good place or what?" he would have groaned, and then made a big fuss about getting out his French skin-creams... "Hannibal, come join me for a shower!"
Oh well, Bradley shrugged, that was over now, and scrunched his eyes shut, sticking his whole head under the spray. It was the cheap stuff, the stuff his publicist would yell at him for using...
"You know that's going to dry out your hair, right?"
Brad froze and jerked his head up, opened his eyes, and immediately regretted it. "Aww, shit!" he nearly shouted, suds running into his eyes, stinging something awful. Really, really hurt. And he jumped as he did it and banged his toe and hit his back against the tile wall. It wasn't fair. He was such a klutz sometimes, and Face had been so graceful...
"Shh, Brad. It's okay, here..."
The actor felt soft, wet skin touch his own face. Thumbs wiping the blur of the shampoo out of his eyes, easy and gentle, something iron-hard, right under the surface. He leaned into it a little, remembering how Liam liked to touch him like that sometimes, and his head was tilted back, washing everything clean.
"See? Better?"
Bradley nodded, dashing the extra water out of his face but not wanting to look yet. He knew that voice, his own voice, really, just slightly different, and it didn't make any sense. "Yeah, uh, and..."
"Just, yeah, man, let me get it," his own voice offered, and Bradley just nodded, mute, biting the inside of his cheek.
A washcloth, already warm, still a little dry, ran up from his navel to circle the back of his neck. "Bradley," that voice urged again, "come on, buddy, look at me."
Still afraid to speak, Brad did as he was asked, dropped his head and blinked a few times. Through the blur and his own still slightly smeared vision, he thought he saw somebody else standing in front of him. One hand with the cloth, stroking slowly over his chest. The other resting right beside his head on the wall of the pounding shower. Roughly his height, his size, his smile...
But not his tattoo. Not that body.
"Oh, fuck," he groaned again, and Face's hand left the wall to cup his cheek. Bradley caught it, feeling those strong fingers against his, feeling his breath start to shallow, quicken.
"It's okay," the conman said, words as easy against Brad's face as his hand was. "It's okay."
Bradley gulped. "It is?"
"Yeah. The team just needed a place to crash for the night, and I thought you were still out of town, shooting our movie," Face said, the very picture of innocence.
But Face didn't miss details. Not important ones like that. Brad knew enough about the conman, had spent enough time in the other man’s skin, to know that, and laughed a little. "You knew I was coming home tonight."
And the lieutenant had that cute, little-boy expression, earnest and honest, out on display. But Brad wasn't falling for it, knew him far too well for that, and the other man finally broke as they eyed each other suspicious. "Yeah, well," he mumbled, "I kinda wanted to meet the guy who was playing me."
"And?" Brad asked, a flutter of nervousness running through him, wondering if he was going to...
"Not bad. We kinda look similar, dead sexy and everything. So that's good." He poured more shower gel into the washcloth and started moving a little lower. "But, hmm, I think I need to do a comprehensive inspection, see if we’ve got mutual desires, if you channel the my natural intensity just as well as you bring the irresistable cuteness," Face teased, and, taking a handful of Bradley’s wet hair in his own hand, brought their lips softly together.
It was a quick little brush, but one that left the actor open-mouthed, staring. Face chuckled. "Like that?"
"God, yes."
"Mmm," the lieutenant said and the cloth dipped lower, wrapping, full and lovely, around Bradley's rapidly expanding enthusiasm. "Want more?"
Trying to formulate a response got Bradley nowhere, because that expert hand starting rolling his balls, stroking his engorged shaft. The pressure from that palm, the roughed cotton terrycloth, the way Face moved in and started kissing him again, hints of teeth. It grew a little stronger, more forceful then, some of that lithe body's strength coming into play now, and before he knew what was happening, Bradley found himself plastered against the wall, the warm water sluicing down between them, heightening the sense of everything, unable to do anything but cry out his climax into Face's talented mouth, talented hand.
Gasping for air, Bradley let his head hit back against the tile, a pair of amused night-blue eyes grinning back at him.
"I love coming like that too. Love it in the shower," Face whispered. "So good, we've got that in common."
"Oh," Bradley groaned, feeling the echoes of his orgasm skating under his skin. "You are such a bastard..."
"Yeah," Face murmured, still working Bradley's cock. "And you loved that about playing me, didn't you? Loved the uniform, the guns, fighting, all the fucking..." Face dropped the washcloth at that and ran both hands up, heavy, resting right over the actor's pecs, let his thumbs start playing those nipples into stiff little peaks. His tongue licked a dry path up the actor's neck, right to his ear. Brad could feel himself getting hard again, and fisting his hands, beat them back against the tile. He couldn't even struggle against this.
Face wouldn't let him.
And he didn't want to.
"You enjoyed that most of all, didn't you? Knowing you could take anyone as a Ranger. Knowing that aggression gets brought into my bed, that it’s overpowered, knowing Hannibal takes Face with all of it, everything pushing and mixing and coming together...pure seduction...come on, I want to hear you say it..."
"Say what?" the actor asked and Face wrinkled his nose, like something smelled funny.
"Dude, that Faceman Peck's a sex god," and that hand tightened, "no matter which team he's batting for. And you loved every second of it."
Sex god? Bradley wanted to laugh, but the next kiss from Face, hard and bruising, tongue thrusting, demanding submission, wiped that all from his mind. No matter what Liam tried to do to wipe it from his mind...
“You wouldn’t have found him without me,” Face murmured. "You know that. You loved playing me because I set you free to find him..."
“Who?” Brad asked warily. Could Face read his mind? It would make sense, Face being able to read his mind...
But that cocksure Ranger just kept going, ignoring the question entirely. “Liam was your first, wasn’t he?” Face asked, his words mixing with the melodic fall of the water around them. “That’s good. Hannibal was mine. Bent me over a table in the middle of our first mission, took me, gave me what I needed... that’s how it was for you, with Liam, wasn’t it?”
“Yeah,” Bradley whispered back, feeling another stab of envy. Liam had never truly claimed him, not like what Hannibal had with Face. "That's how it felt."
“He’s a great guy, our man, isn’t he?”
Bradley caught one of the lieutenant’s hands, surprised at the little rise of anger that got out of him. “Liam’s mine.”
But Face must have understood, because he just smiled and kissed Brad again. “And Hannibal’s mine, but don’t tell me you haven’t played around with us before. I know you have, you both have. It’s okay, it’s all okay...if you're jealous of me," Face finished proudly. Those perfect white teeth nipped on his ear. "And now you want to feel it, don't you?"
Brad tried to close his eyes, tried to will this away, but Face's hands were on him, Face's chest on his, groin, thighs, all of it, on him, and he couldn’t think of anything else. "...yes..."
"Awesome." And the conman’s grin was dazzling. “Gonna be so good, Bradley...”
Then Face turned him around, nice and easy, hands roaming, that chest undulating now against his back, driving him harder against the water-slick tile. His cock, rapidly hardening to fullness again, starting filling the conman's hand as he took it up again.
Two fingers slid into the cleft of his ass, right to that clenching ring os muscle, pushed in, soap-smooth and Bradley bucked back into it, moaning. It didn’t take long, Face finding that little pleasure nub, deep inside, barely touching it as he stretched the actor open with long, easy strokes, fisted his cock with equal care.
“I like it tight,” he whispered in Brad’s ear as he worked, withdrew his fingers and lined up, sensual little words easing his passage in. “Tight and almost painful, feels so good like that, love it like that, losing control, letting Hannibal take me, it has to be tight...” Bradley gasped, scrambling for air as Face breached him fully, sunk into him. “...tight like your tight ass, so great, take it all in...”
Bradley squirmed against the tile, wanting to get away from that pressure inside him, wanting to arch back into it, take Face deeper. But the Ranger was on point, and the Ranger was in control, and he couldn’t do anything but sob as that length slid in and out of him, little thrusts in time to to the hand around his cock, everything working together to bring them both to climax, and Brad felt teeth on his shoulder again, felt his own lips against tile, the tension in his gut building and rising and crashing over, splattering his belly and the wall and Face’s hand, Face’s hand, Face’s hand...
Face’s hand? Face? Oh, hell...
He let his forehead hit the wall, kicked at the abandoned washcloth by his foot, and with a slight wince, Brad withdrew his fingers, his own fingers, from his ass. He unwrapped his hand from his own cock. And there, in front of him, melting away down the drain, was the irrefutable evidence of what had just happened. He’d just come. Hard. Twice. Thinking about...
No, not thinking about that. He was not going to think about that.
He was never going to think about that again.
Bradley finished the rest of his shower in the quickest, most utilitarian manner he could manage. Dried off in his bedroom to avoid the mirror in the bathroom. He didn’t even bother pulling on a pair of boxers. His original plan sounded good. Really, really good. And he could blame his little masturbation session on travel and stress and the whole movie-making experience, instead of some unhealthy, bizarre kink, right?
Sounded like a plan, the exhausted actor decided, and punched a pillow into a more pleasant configuration, chasing sleep.
But there, right on the edge of blissful oblivion, in that weird half-state that comes right before tipping off into it fully, Brad made the mistake of glancing over to the doorway of his bedroom, where Face had a towel wrapped around his waist and Hannibal wrapped around his shoulder, catching little moments of their conversation.
“...I think he’s going to make a good Face, boss, look at how hard he came when I...”
“...did you really use the term sex god, kid...”
“...well, I am, aren’t I, Hannibal...”
“...you are such a brat, Temp...”
“...your brat, John, and you fucking love it so don’t even...”
Hannibal just growled and tugged at Face’s hand. Before the lieutenant let himself be led away, before it all faded away, he winked over his shoulder and threw a big thumbs-up in the direction of the bed.
Bradley smiled at that and melted into sleep.
When he woke at three the next day, and came down to the kitchen to grab whatever his housekeeper had stuffed the fridge with, he was a little disappointed not to find Murdock watching cartoons and bickering with BA in the living room, not seeing Hannibal laying out the Plan at the dining room table with satellite images and little green Army men, not to see Face hanging off his shoulder, smiling like the lunatic in love that he was...
Damn, Bradley thought, and sniffed at an open carton of milk from the top shelf, glanced around the mundane space, all the boring moments that stories got to skip over.
He was going to miss those guys a lot.
"There sure as shit better be a sequel," he muttered to himself and got on with his day.
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no subject
Date: 2011-03-29 01:19 am (UTC)And GOD, how much I loved this and love it still. So damn hot...
Wait. Hm. I remember something now... in one of the later stories, there was a line about this, err, fantasy? encounter? and something about "the time it was only Hannibal" or something? Whatever does that meeeean? ;P
no subject
Date: 2011-03-29 01:23 am (UTC)no subject
Date: 2011-03-29 01:43 am (UTC)no subject
Date: 2011-03-29 01:53 am (UTC)no subject
Date: 2011-03-29 02:03 am (UTC)