Thailand - DVD Extras Series
Oct. 29th, 2010 11:54 pm![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
sonora_conejaPairing: Liam/Bradley
Rating: NC-17
Warnings: none. Unless candlelight and the sound of the ocean is a bit much for you...
Summary: Fill for this prompt on the kink meme.
Not really so much a prompt as a conversation we were having about Liam Neeson getting an invite to do a cameo in The Hangover II. Johnnywalkerblue reuqested her some RPS, and of course, I felt like I just had to make sure this happened.
Oh, and I'm aware Liam *actually* shot his cameo in LA. But fuck that. Thailand's much cooler...
Bradley hasn’t seen Liam in a while and wants him to play a tattoo artist in the Hangover II. This is that that visit to the set.
Brad insists on meeting Liam at the airport himself. It’s ninety-three degrees here in Phuket and beyond humid. The limo he’s hanging out in is decent;y cool, rented from one of the reliable Chinese companies that’s currently robbing the production blind, according to local standards. Still cheaper than California.
He runs nervous palms down his t-shirt, cargo shorts. Zach and Justin and everyone else think he’s starstruck or something, mostly because they’re starstruck. Really excited to be working with the movie legend. Mel would have been nice, but after those tapes came out... Brad hadn’t been able to stop himself from blurting out the man’s name. Turned bright red as he did it, memories surfacing. He’s spent the last few days wondering if anybody knew why he suggested the man, what had gone on, what would shortly be going on.
If Liam isn’t going to kill him.
The driver gets out and the trunk clicks open. Muffled talking, and then the door next to him lets in a blast of Thai afternoon and an already-sweating Irishman, pale suit clinging to him in fascinating ways as he settles into the seat next to Brad.
They stare at each other for a moment.
The divider goes up. The company scans these vehicles every time they use them. Never know when some enterprising jackass is going to install a camera and get something good.
Like this.
Bradley moves fast, knees straddling Liam’s hips on the wide, deep bench, takes his head up in his hands, trembling at the feel of that dark hair under his fingers again, and kisses him. Hard. Needy. Hopeful.
Liam doesn’t do anything in response for a moment, and Brad almost pulls back, but there’s an arm around his waist, tugging him closer, and he practically sobs as the older man opens his lips and it’s electric, the feel of this again. He’d almost forgotten how good it was. Almost.
With lightning speed, Liam flips them around, pressing Bradley back into the limo seat, and Brad sighs, letting those big warm hands wander under the edge of his t-shirt, onto the artificially chilled skin, the kiss deepening, growing a little slower, sweeter, as Liam takes control. It goes on for long minutes, just like that, delicious and fucking perfect.
He was always so considerate, Bradley tells himself desperately. Maybe Liam’s going to just let the other night go...
“How were the Thai girls?”
Shit. No such luck. “It was, er, fine...”
“I’m not mad.”
“You sure?”
“We talked about this after... everything,” Liam growls in his ear, that accent thick. “We both knew we might not see one another for a while.”
That was true. It had just sort of happened during the A-Team shoot, not planned or looked for but there it had been. The American had been curious for years, but there had never been anyone who affected him like Liam did. Nobody had ever gotten under his skin like this man. He’d found himself wanting that back, needing, needing it back.
“That’s why I suggested you,” Brad whispers back. “Wanted to see you. Missed you.” He leans up for another kiss, and Liam pushes him back down.
“You did, did you?” Liam nibbles along his jaw. “So, dragging me halfway across the planet is a solution?”
Brad smiles a little. “All-expenses paid vacation in the tropics with your impossibly hot lover? Complaining much?”
There’s a little intake of breath at the word “lover”, and Bradley wants to do nothing more than rip that jacket and shirt off and go for a nipple, just like Liam showed him. “You’re a brat, Bradley Cooper.”
“You love it, Liam Neeson,” he says.
But that wonderful weight’s off him, and he groans, reaching out for it, but his hands are pushed back into his chest. “Liam...”
“We’re here, Bradley.” He’s grinning, and runs a hand down the fly of the younger man’s pants. “Better get that under control for the lads.”
Not fair. So not fair. “Yeah, they’ve all been dying to meet you,” he replies with an answering smirk. “Come on, Liam. Come say hello.”
“And Brad?”
“Yes, Liam?”
“You’re not off the hook,” he winks, and steps out of the limo.
Double shit.
Shooting’s already over for the day, and everybody’s heading back to their hotel rooms or out to the tourist bars in the little beach town. The director, Tod, insists on taking Liam and the cast out for dinner.
Torture.
Liam keeps bumping Brad’s leg with his foot. He makes little in-jokes, references that only Bradley catches, making him blush. The Irishman even catches him in the bathroom at one point, a hand on his fly.
It’s maddening.
By the end of the meal, Brad’s pretty sure it’s not just the spice in the food that’s making him sweat, and is very aware he’s got a visible erection as they leave. Ed points this out. Everyone has a good laugh. Zach’s going to give him so much shit for this later...
The guys make plans to hit the town, and Liam tries to get out of it, saying he wants an evening to catch up with his good friend Brad. Brad grins. Everyone else nods. They all understand.
But it still takes an hour of heavy drinking in the hotel bar, Liam leveraging that European alcohol tolerance to its full extent, to get everyone else bundled off to their rooms in surrender, leaving him and Brad alone.
“Shit, I do not know how you drink like this,” the American actor observes, lifting his head off the bar. He’s been faking it with club sodas and winks at the female bartender, but he’s pretty damn sure Liam’s drunk at least a gallon of beer at this point and seems to be completely unaffected. And smirking. “What, do they marinate you guys in liquor in-vitro or something?”
“That,” Liam says, banging the last bottle down on the counter, “is an absurd American stereotype.”
“Whatever,” Brad grumbles, low and fast, leaning over so nobody overhears. “So, my room? I can be quiet...”
“Brad, you are incapable of being quiet, and I don’t want to gag you tonight while I pound your sweet ass into the mattress.” Liam’s slipped into that dead sexy variation of his brogue. “We’re going to my room.”
He lets Liam tug him out of the bar, the older man laughing it off to a few curious, lingering crew members about how Cooper’s had a few too many, and takes him straight out of the hotel, onto the beach.
“Liam, where are we going?”
“Oh, I made them pay for this trip,” the older man murmurs. Brad shivers.
The beach is quiet and dark. This hotel’s small and private, and the production company booked the entire place. Except, except for this out here. Nobody, not even Tod, got one of these.
“Liam, how did you...”
“It’s me, darling.”
Fingers trail around his back as Brad stands there, stunned, and Liam moves forward onto the wooden path that leads out to the small cluster of villas built out on stilts over the water. Four are dark, but one has a gold glow spilling from the windows, and as Brad steps inside, he realizes it’s candlelight. The rooms are all hung in undyed silks and cushioned in brilliant hues, the bedroom dominated by a vast four-poster with an old-fashioned mosquito net, more to add ambiance than out of necessity. The ocean’s quiet beneath them. Brad stares.
“This is amazing.”
“You really haven’t been out here?” Liam asks, moving behind him and wrapping his arms around the younger man’s shoulders. His breath is tickling over already heated skin, and Brad’s not sure how much more of this he can take.
“Tod didn’t want us arguing over them.” He leans back, trying to get in contact with as much of Liam as possible, but they’re both still clothed and it’s frustrating. Very frustrating.
“Makes sense. You lads are like schoolboys.” And his lips close down on Brad’s collarbone, sucking lightly, not hard enough to leave marks. Pity. Bradley would love to see the mark of this man, his man, on him again. But no, not here, not like this. Too many questions to answer. Too much to risk.
Brad reaches a hand up to wrap around Liam’s neck, brushing soft nails up into the fine hair there. Dark and fine, damp from the heavy Thai air. And he asks for what he can have, for what Liam's never, ever going to refuse him. “What are you waiting for, Liam? Fuck me.”
“Oh, I do like to hear you beg,” Liam says, pulling the American's shirt up, very slowly, sliding the sweat-darkened fabric over the younger man’s head and tossing it away. “And what do we have here?”
Bradley cringes, a little self-conscious, now that he’s lost all that muscle he had to put on. Even on the promotion tour, he still had some of it. But this, now? Liam’s never seen him like, like he normally looks. Will he...
“You’re beautiful.”
Of course he would know. “You sure you’re not a Jedi?”
Liam laughs and turns Bradley around, hugging him close, lifting his face up for another of those searing kisses. “Show me what you remember, brat.”
Brad remembers how this always worked, on nights where Liam felt like being possessive and gentle. They both get naked, Bradley doing most of the work, peeling off all those layers of clothing between them, like unwrapping a present. Kissing. The feel of skin on skin. That giant cock, insistent and hard on his belly. A hand, soft on his own. More kissing.
The younger man breaks the kiss first, laying a hand on Liam’s chest and pushing himself back, walking slowly backwards until he’s close enough to sit down on the bed. He throws one arm behind him, bracing himself up and he slides back onto the sinfully soft mattress, and he’s very aware of his lover’s gaze as he tilts his hips slightly and runs his free hand down his own aching length.
“Need you, Liam,” he pants. There’s no air conditioning in the little villa, just the sea air, and they’re both still sweating. “I need you...”
“Show me how bad you want it,” Liam replies with that growl of his, moving over, leaning on a bedpost, pushing him all the way down. Brad sinks back, arching a little as his hand speeds up a little. They’d had nights when they just did this, like the first time, when Liam was still worried about hurting him. The sight of older man, naked, intent, watching him is almost enough to send him over the edge, and he’s close, so close, when one of those hands closes down over his own, and he cries out a little, that tightness starting in his belly...
...and then that hand’s squeezing down around the base of his cock, cutting off orgasm, and Brad whimpers in protest.
“Liam, please...”
“Shh. I know what you need, lad.” And the Irishman’s on top of him in one easy motion, that lean, hard body covering every inch of his own. Brad can’t do anything but shudder and moan as Liam attacks his ear, his jaw, his neck with warm, wet little bites, moving down to lave one nipple, then the other. It’s igniting every nerve like nobody else has ever been able to do.
He moves all the way down, settling back between the younger man’s legs, nudging them apart, giving him a smoldering look, and licking a hot path right up the underside of his cock.
Bradley really does cry out at that, body thrashing as Liam braces him down, teasing him with little licks at first, tongue swirling over his leaking slit, mouthing up a little and then back down, moving back down to gently suck on his balls, hand playing against his hip, around to his stomach. Familiar. Wonderfully familiar.
The younger actor’s rendered incoherent for some terrible length of time, dancing right on the edge, wanting more, wanting to thrust into that wonderful heat... and then, then it’s gone and he sobs in frustration as that hand wraps back around.
“Shit, Liam, you can’t keep doing this...”
“Waiting for me,” Liam murmurs, moving back up, swinging them around so Bradley’s sitting on his lap, his cock straight and hard against the younger man’s ass. He runs strong hands across the younger man’s thighs. “I trust you have been?”
It’s a commanding question, but Brad can hear the hesitation under the words, how much his lover needs that answer, how much they both need to know that this is real, that they still have this together, that it's pure... who would ever compare he wants to reply. Who could ever be a stand-in for you? Who loves me like you do...
“Yes, Liam,” he says lightly instead, steering himself around the breaking reef of that little word, rocking back, pulling an appreciative moan from the man beneath him. “Nobody but you, I promise.”
“Let’s find out, shall we?”
A drawer squeaks, a bottle clicks open, and there’s slick pressure at his entrance, circling, not quite pushing in. Bradley groans. “Tease...”
“You love it,” Liam says with a smile, and in goes that finger, all the way to the knuckle. Bradley feels his body clench around it. “Oh, god...”
“Hmm, looks like I can trust you after all.” Brad’s heart soars at both the pleased words and the addition of a second and then a third, scissoring, opening him up. He’s done this to himself, since the last time he saw Liam, but nothing compares. The older man does this little twist, and then he hits that nub, deep inside, bursting white fire, but then... “Don’t you dare come yet.”
Bradley falls forward onto Liam’s chest, sobbing with need as the older man adds more lube and continues to stretch him. He’s been hard since dinner, maybe before, and it’s starting to hurt. The added stimulation across his prostate, Liam’s smile as he preps him, it’s all too much, but he can’t let himself go. A heavy grip on his waist, and Brad knows that Liam’s going to help him with this. Taking his weight on his knees, he rears up and lets the older man guide him back, just a little, until he can feel the head of his cock resting just right.
“You ready, boyo?”
“Since you got in the cab,” he whispers back, and tries to lower himself down, slow and easy, but Liam stops him.
“Do you still remember leaving me on the phone?” he asks conversationally.
Shit. Wrong answer. Brad’s legs are starting to cramp, and he’s been on the edge for too long, and this is pure torture. “Liam, please, there was nothing I could do about that...”
“I’ve been hard since you hung up on me.”
“The guys, what was I supposed to say, we agreed we’d keep this private...”
“Hmm, I wonder if you really want this.”
He’s not really aware of what he’s saying. No time to process words. No time to consider the ugly possibility that everything they've ever said, everything they've ever not said, everything that's happened isn't enough to hold them together now. There's no time for that. No way. Bradley closes his eyes and barely recognizes his voice, coming in little pleading pants. “I do, I do, I’m so sorry, please, Liam, please take me, please fuck me...”
“Hmm,” the older actor says, and then his cock breeches the little ring of muscle
There’s nothing easy about this. Liam pushes all the way up, slow but steady, and Brad bites his lip as he’s filled for the first time in far, far too long, a burn and a little pain but nothing he can’t take. He can take anything this man wants to give him, but he’s aware that there are tears on his cheeks by the time their hips meet flush. “Shit, oh, Liam...”
Those hands are stroking him down now, light caresses that make everything feel better, make him feel... “You okay, darling?”
He has no idea what to say, how to vocalize what he's feeling, what this fucking means to him, so he blurts out the first thing that comes to mind. “I’ve missed you.”
Seems to be exactly what Liam wanted to hear. “Missed you, too. Now move,” that low accent reminds him. It’s breathless, too, and Brad smiles at that.
He complies, rocking forward and then back, little oscillations that grow bigger and faster as his body adjusts and all the initial discomfort turns into pleasure, wonderful sensations running up his spine. Liam lets him go for a little while, the only time he ever really lets Bradley take charge, the only time he ever really wants to, before pulling him down for a quick kiss and letting him back up.
“Deeper?” he asks, voice husky with desire, and Brad nods, letting himself fall backwards, wrapping his legs around Liam’s hips, keeping him buried deep. Liam puts his hands on the younger man’s shoulders, pressing him down, pulls out almost all the way, and slams all the way back in.
Bradley screams, but Liam doesn’t stop. They both know how this goes. Brad whimpers and whines and cries out, heels digging in as the older actor fucks him with hard, long strokes, fast and inconsiderate and perfect and all the more so tonight for the long separation. All those nights of laying in bed, remembering, imagining, can’t compare to the actual feel of his lover inside him, the rough pistoning hips driving deep, deep down, practically hitting his heart with every thrust. And there are those little growls in his ear, mixing with his own, telling him how hot and tight, how beautiful, spread and moaning like a whore, how he knows he owns him. He loves it.
He feels Liam shiver, and the rhythm changes, skips half a beat, and the older man’s close. Bradley thinks he remembers how this works, and squeezes those muscles, drawing a loud groan from the older man.
Bradley grins triumphantly, and when Liam smiles down and whispers, “come with me, luv,” and tickles along the underside of his cock, he thinks it’s the best thing he’s ever heard.
There’s a few more thrusts, more jerks, really, and the man above him stiffens, and there’s the wonderful sensation of his lover’s release shooting into him, hot and endless, and his own spurting out between them, coating both their bellies, until they’re sticky and sated and collapsing down into the rucked sheets.
No words pass between them as they catch their breaths and the sweat starts to cool in the night breeze. Liam gives Bradley a quick kiss on the nose and wraps an arm around him, and Bradley keeps his legs hooked, and they lay there in comfortable silence, drifting off to sleep, as Liam sets the alarm clock for an acceptable pre-dawn hour. Wouldn’t do to get caught. Too much press, too many questions.
But that last word, the luv, keeps echoing in his mind. Maybe it would be okay...
“Can I come visit you in New York?” he murmurs, nuzzling into the older man’s neck.
“Anything you want, Bradley.”
“Damn straight.”
“Go to sleep,” the older man murmurs, and who’s going to argue with that?
Rating: NC-17
Warnings: none. Unless candlelight and the sound of the ocean is a bit much for you...
Summary: Fill for this prompt on the kink meme.
Not really so much a prompt as a conversation we were having about Liam Neeson getting an invite to do a cameo in The Hangover II. Johnnywalkerblue reuqested her some RPS, and of course, I felt like I just had to make sure this happened.
Oh, and I'm aware Liam *actually* shot his cameo in LA. But fuck that. Thailand's much cooler...
Bradley hasn’t seen Liam in a while and wants him to play a tattoo artist in the Hangover II. This is that that visit to the set.
Brad insists on meeting Liam at the airport himself. It’s ninety-three degrees here in Phuket and beyond humid. The limo he’s hanging out in is decent;y cool, rented from one of the reliable Chinese companies that’s currently robbing the production blind, according to local standards. Still cheaper than California.
He runs nervous palms down his t-shirt, cargo shorts. Zach and Justin and everyone else think he’s starstruck or something, mostly because they’re starstruck. Really excited to be working with the movie legend. Mel would have been nice, but after those tapes came out... Brad hadn’t been able to stop himself from blurting out the man’s name. Turned bright red as he did it, memories surfacing. He’s spent the last few days wondering if anybody knew why he suggested the man, what had gone on, what would shortly be going on.
If Liam isn’t going to kill him.
The driver gets out and the trunk clicks open. Muffled talking, and then the door next to him lets in a blast of Thai afternoon and an already-sweating Irishman, pale suit clinging to him in fascinating ways as he settles into the seat next to Brad.
They stare at each other for a moment.
The divider goes up. The company scans these vehicles every time they use them. Never know when some enterprising jackass is going to install a camera and get something good.
Like this.
Bradley moves fast, knees straddling Liam’s hips on the wide, deep bench, takes his head up in his hands, trembling at the feel of that dark hair under his fingers again, and kisses him. Hard. Needy. Hopeful.
Liam doesn’t do anything in response for a moment, and Brad almost pulls back, but there’s an arm around his waist, tugging him closer, and he practically sobs as the older man opens his lips and it’s electric, the feel of this again. He’d almost forgotten how good it was. Almost.
With lightning speed, Liam flips them around, pressing Bradley back into the limo seat, and Brad sighs, letting those big warm hands wander under the edge of his t-shirt, onto the artificially chilled skin, the kiss deepening, growing a little slower, sweeter, as Liam takes control. It goes on for long minutes, just like that, delicious and fucking perfect.
He was always so considerate, Bradley tells himself desperately. Maybe Liam’s going to just let the other night go...
“How were the Thai girls?”
Shit. No such luck. “It was, er, fine...”
“I’m not mad.”
“You sure?”
“We talked about this after... everything,” Liam growls in his ear, that accent thick. “We both knew we might not see one another for a while.”
That was true. It had just sort of happened during the A-Team shoot, not planned or looked for but there it had been. The American had been curious for years, but there had never been anyone who affected him like Liam did. Nobody had ever gotten under his skin like this man. He’d found himself wanting that back, needing, needing it back.
“That’s why I suggested you,” Brad whispers back. “Wanted to see you. Missed you.” He leans up for another kiss, and Liam pushes him back down.
“You did, did you?” Liam nibbles along his jaw. “So, dragging me halfway across the planet is a solution?”
Brad smiles a little. “All-expenses paid vacation in the tropics with your impossibly hot lover? Complaining much?”
There’s a little intake of breath at the word “lover”, and Bradley wants to do nothing more than rip that jacket and shirt off and go for a nipple, just like Liam showed him. “You’re a brat, Bradley Cooper.”
“You love it, Liam Neeson,” he says.
But that wonderful weight’s off him, and he groans, reaching out for it, but his hands are pushed back into his chest. “Liam...”
“We’re here, Bradley.” He’s grinning, and runs a hand down the fly of the younger man’s pants. “Better get that under control for the lads.”
Not fair. So not fair. “Yeah, they’ve all been dying to meet you,” he replies with an answering smirk. “Come on, Liam. Come say hello.”
“And Brad?”
“Yes, Liam?”
“You’re not off the hook,” he winks, and steps out of the limo.
Double shit.
Shooting’s already over for the day, and everybody’s heading back to their hotel rooms or out to the tourist bars in the little beach town. The director, Tod, insists on taking Liam and the cast out for dinner.
Torture.
Liam keeps bumping Brad’s leg with his foot. He makes little in-jokes, references that only Bradley catches, making him blush. The Irishman even catches him in the bathroom at one point, a hand on his fly.
It’s maddening.
By the end of the meal, Brad’s pretty sure it’s not just the spice in the food that’s making him sweat, and is very aware he’s got a visible erection as they leave. Ed points this out. Everyone has a good laugh. Zach’s going to give him so much shit for this later...
The guys make plans to hit the town, and Liam tries to get out of it, saying he wants an evening to catch up with his good friend Brad. Brad grins. Everyone else nods. They all understand.
But it still takes an hour of heavy drinking in the hotel bar, Liam leveraging that European alcohol tolerance to its full extent, to get everyone else bundled off to their rooms in surrender, leaving him and Brad alone.
“Shit, I do not know how you drink like this,” the American actor observes, lifting his head off the bar. He’s been faking it with club sodas and winks at the female bartender, but he’s pretty damn sure Liam’s drunk at least a gallon of beer at this point and seems to be completely unaffected. And smirking. “What, do they marinate you guys in liquor in-vitro or something?”
“That,” Liam says, banging the last bottle down on the counter, “is an absurd American stereotype.”
“Whatever,” Brad grumbles, low and fast, leaning over so nobody overhears. “So, my room? I can be quiet...”
“Brad, you are incapable of being quiet, and I don’t want to gag you tonight while I pound your sweet ass into the mattress.” Liam’s slipped into that dead sexy variation of his brogue. “We’re going to my room.”
He lets Liam tug him out of the bar, the older man laughing it off to a few curious, lingering crew members about how Cooper’s had a few too many, and takes him straight out of the hotel, onto the beach.
“Liam, where are we going?”
“Oh, I made them pay for this trip,” the older man murmurs. Brad shivers.
The beach is quiet and dark. This hotel’s small and private, and the production company booked the entire place. Except, except for this out here. Nobody, not even Tod, got one of these.
“Liam, how did you...”
“It’s me, darling.”
Fingers trail around his back as Brad stands there, stunned, and Liam moves forward onto the wooden path that leads out to the small cluster of villas built out on stilts over the water. Four are dark, but one has a gold glow spilling from the windows, and as Brad steps inside, he realizes it’s candlelight. The rooms are all hung in undyed silks and cushioned in brilliant hues, the bedroom dominated by a vast four-poster with an old-fashioned mosquito net, more to add ambiance than out of necessity. The ocean’s quiet beneath them. Brad stares.
“This is amazing.”
“You really haven’t been out here?” Liam asks, moving behind him and wrapping his arms around the younger man’s shoulders. His breath is tickling over already heated skin, and Brad’s not sure how much more of this he can take.
“Tod didn’t want us arguing over them.” He leans back, trying to get in contact with as much of Liam as possible, but they’re both still clothed and it’s frustrating. Very frustrating.
“Makes sense. You lads are like schoolboys.” And his lips close down on Brad’s collarbone, sucking lightly, not hard enough to leave marks. Pity. Bradley would love to see the mark of this man, his man, on him again. But no, not here, not like this. Too many questions to answer. Too much to risk.
Brad reaches a hand up to wrap around Liam’s neck, brushing soft nails up into the fine hair there. Dark and fine, damp from the heavy Thai air. And he asks for what he can have, for what Liam's never, ever going to refuse him. “What are you waiting for, Liam? Fuck me.”
“Oh, I do like to hear you beg,” Liam says, pulling the American's shirt up, very slowly, sliding the sweat-darkened fabric over the younger man’s head and tossing it away. “And what do we have here?”
Bradley cringes, a little self-conscious, now that he’s lost all that muscle he had to put on. Even on the promotion tour, he still had some of it. But this, now? Liam’s never seen him like, like he normally looks. Will he...
“You’re beautiful.”
Of course he would know. “You sure you’re not a Jedi?”
Liam laughs and turns Bradley around, hugging him close, lifting his face up for another of those searing kisses. “Show me what you remember, brat.”
Brad remembers how this always worked, on nights where Liam felt like being possessive and gentle. They both get naked, Bradley doing most of the work, peeling off all those layers of clothing between them, like unwrapping a present. Kissing. The feel of skin on skin. That giant cock, insistent and hard on his belly. A hand, soft on his own. More kissing.
The younger man breaks the kiss first, laying a hand on Liam’s chest and pushing himself back, walking slowly backwards until he’s close enough to sit down on the bed. He throws one arm behind him, bracing himself up and he slides back onto the sinfully soft mattress, and he’s very aware of his lover’s gaze as he tilts his hips slightly and runs his free hand down his own aching length.
“Need you, Liam,” he pants. There’s no air conditioning in the little villa, just the sea air, and they’re both still sweating. “I need you...”
“Show me how bad you want it,” Liam replies with that growl of his, moving over, leaning on a bedpost, pushing him all the way down. Brad sinks back, arching a little as his hand speeds up a little. They’d had nights when they just did this, like the first time, when Liam was still worried about hurting him. The sight of older man, naked, intent, watching him is almost enough to send him over the edge, and he’s close, so close, when one of those hands closes down over his own, and he cries out a little, that tightness starting in his belly...
...and then that hand’s squeezing down around the base of his cock, cutting off orgasm, and Brad whimpers in protest.
“Liam, please...”
“Shh. I know what you need, lad.” And the Irishman’s on top of him in one easy motion, that lean, hard body covering every inch of his own. Brad can’t do anything but shudder and moan as Liam attacks his ear, his jaw, his neck with warm, wet little bites, moving down to lave one nipple, then the other. It’s igniting every nerve like nobody else has ever been able to do.
He moves all the way down, settling back between the younger man’s legs, nudging them apart, giving him a smoldering look, and licking a hot path right up the underside of his cock.
Bradley really does cry out at that, body thrashing as Liam braces him down, teasing him with little licks at first, tongue swirling over his leaking slit, mouthing up a little and then back down, moving back down to gently suck on his balls, hand playing against his hip, around to his stomach. Familiar. Wonderfully familiar.
The younger actor’s rendered incoherent for some terrible length of time, dancing right on the edge, wanting more, wanting to thrust into that wonderful heat... and then, then it’s gone and he sobs in frustration as that hand wraps back around.
“Shit, Liam, you can’t keep doing this...”
“Waiting for me,” Liam murmurs, moving back up, swinging them around so Bradley’s sitting on his lap, his cock straight and hard against the younger man’s ass. He runs strong hands across the younger man’s thighs. “I trust you have been?”
It’s a commanding question, but Brad can hear the hesitation under the words, how much his lover needs that answer, how much they both need to know that this is real, that they still have this together, that it's pure... who would ever compare he wants to reply. Who could ever be a stand-in for you? Who loves me like you do...
“Yes, Liam,” he says lightly instead, steering himself around the breaking reef of that little word, rocking back, pulling an appreciative moan from the man beneath him. “Nobody but you, I promise.”
“Let’s find out, shall we?”
A drawer squeaks, a bottle clicks open, and there’s slick pressure at his entrance, circling, not quite pushing in. Bradley groans. “Tease...”
“You love it,” Liam says with a smile, and in goes that finger, all the way to the knuckle. Bradley feels his body clench around it. “Oh, god...”
“Hmm, looks like I can trust you after all.” Brad’s heart soars at both the pleased words and the addition of a second and then a third, scissoring, opening him up. He’s done this to himself, since the last time he saw Liam, but nothing compares. The older man does this little twist, and then he hits that nub, deep inside, bursting white fire, but then... “Don’t you dare come yet.”
Bradley falls forward onto Liam’s chest, sobbing with need as the older man adds more lube and continues to stretch him. He’s been hard since dinner, maybe before, and it’s starting to hurt. The added stimulation across his prostate, Liam’s smile as he preps him, it’s all too much, but he can’t let himself go. A heavy grip on his waist, and Brad knows that Liam’s going to help him with this. Taking his weight on his knees, he rears up and lets the older man guide him back, just a little, until he can feel the head of his cock resting just right.
“You ready, boyo?”
“Since you got in the cab,” he whispers back, and tries to lower himself down, slow and easy, but Liam stops him.
“Do you still remember leaving me on the phone?” he asks conversationally.
Shit. Wrong answer. Brad’s legs are starting to cramp, and he’s been on the edge for too long, and this is pure torture. “Liam, please, there was nothing I could do about that...”
“I’ve been hard since you hung up on me.”
“The guys, what was I supposed to say, we agreed we’d keep this private...”
“Hmm, I wonder if you really want this.”
He’s not really aware of what he’s saying. No time to process words. No time to consider the ugly possibility that everything they've ever said, everything they've ever not said, everything that's happened isn't enough to hold them together now. There's no time for that. No way. Bradley closes his eyes and barely recognizes his voice, coming in little pleading pants. “I do, I do, I’m so sorry, please, Liam, please take me, please fuck me...”
“Hmm,” the older actor says, and then his cock breeches the little ring of muscle
There’s nothing easy about this. Liam pushes all the way up, slow but steady, and Brad bites his lip as he’s filled for the first time in far, far too long, a burn and a little pain but nothing he can’t take. He can take anything this man wants to give him, but he’s aware that there are tears on his cheeks by the time their hips meet flush. “Shit, oh, Liam...”
Those hands are stroking him down now, light caresses that make everything feel better, make him feel... “You okay, darling?”
He has no idea what to say, how to vocalize what he's feeling, what this fucking means to him, so he blurts out the first thing that comes to mind. “I’ve missed you.”
Seems to be exactly what Liam wanted to hear. “Missed you, too. Now move,” that low accent reminds him. It’s breathless, too, and Brad smiles at that.
He complies, rocking forward and then back, little oscillations that grow bigger and faster as his body adjusts and all the initial discomfort turns into pleasure, wonderful sensations running up his spine. Liam lets him go for a little while, the only time he ever really lets Bradley take charge, the only time he ever really wants to, before pulling him down for a quick kiss and letting him back up.
“Deeper?” he asks, voice husky with desire, and Brad nods, letting himself fall backwards, wrapping his legs around Liam’s hips, keeping him buried deep. Liam puts his hands on the younger man’s shoulders, pressing him down, pulls out almost all the way, and slams all the way back in.
Bradley screams, but Liam doesn’t stop. They both know how this goes. Brad whimpers and whines and cries out, heels digging in as the older actor fucks him with hard, long strokes, fast and inconsiderate and perfect and all the more so tonight for the long separation. All those nights of laying in bed, remembering, imagining, can’t compare to the actual feel of his lover inside him, the rough pistoning hips driving deep, deep down, practically hitting his heart with every thrust. And there are those little growls in his ear, mixing with his own, telling him how hot and tight, how beautiful, spread and moaning like a whore, how he knows he owns him. He loves it.
He feels Liam shiver, and the rhythm changes, skips half a beat, and the older man’s close. Bradley thinks he remembers how this works, and squeezes those muscles, drawing a loud groan from the older man.
Bradley grins triumphantly, and when Liam smiles down and whispers, “come with me, luv,” and tickles along the underside of his cock, he thinks it’s the best thing he’s ever heard.
There’s a few more thrusts, more jerks, really, and the man above him stiffens, and there’s the wonderful sensation of his lover’s release shooting into him, hot and endless, and his own spurting out between them, coating both their bellies, until they’re sticky and sated and collapsing down into the rucked sheets.
No words pass between them as they catch their breaths and the sweat starts to cool in the night breeze. Liam gives Bradley a quick kiss on the nose and wraps an arm around him, and Bradley keeps his legs hooked, and they lay there in comfortable silence, drifting off to sleep, as Liam sets the alarm clock for an acceptable pre-dawn hour. Wouldn’t do to get caught. Too much press, too many questions.
But that last word, the luv, keeps echoing in his mind. Maybe it would be okay...
“Can I come visit you in New York?” he murmurs, nuzzling into the older man’s neck.
“Anything you want, Bradley.”
“Damn straight.”
“Go to sleep,” the older man murmurs, and who’s going to argue with that?
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Date: 2011-03-29 12:40 am (UTC)Wow, the slow build-up is amazing, how they want to touch each other so badly but the rest of the cast is with them... the scene in the car was great, and this line?
“Brad, you are incapable of being quiet, and I don’t want to gag you tonight while I pound your sweet ass into the mattress.” damn near had be fall off the bed.
And then... gah. I think I told you before, but you have a unique talent for making sex really rough and still sweet and loving at the same time. And angsty... Which, yeah, is pretty much the best thing ever as far as I'm considered, lol!
Loved it, next story now!
PS: How hot is the image of Liam in Hangover II, covered in tattoos? And please let Phil get the tattoo, please let it be Phil... *hopes*
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Date: 2011-03-29 12:45 am (UTC)And I'm not sure where the rough!sweet!angsty! sex has come from, but I think I do write rather a lot of it...
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Date: 2011-03-29 01:00 am (UTC)I most certainly approve of that! XD
I don't think it will be Phil, though. Didn't Brad say he hadn't seen Liam in months? And Liam didn't shoot in Thailand and Brad did, so... meh, one can still hope!