Benefit of Experience - DVD Extras
Feb. 10th, 2011 07:49 pm![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
sonora_conejaPairing: Patrick Wilson/Bradley Cooper
Rating: R
Warnings: none
Summary: A continuation, yes more, of the nutty RPS that just doesn’t seem to stop!
Brad wants some gay sex advice. Patrick dishes.
“Patrick, you gotta help me.”
Patrick barely looks up from his novel, from where he’s sprawled on the sofa in the little editing room, drinking a beer. It’s quiet in here this time of day, once a guy kicks the interns out, and he was really looking forward to a morning of no shenanigans. Not that he doesn’t like the shenanigans. But there seems to be an increasing amount of them between the A-Team guys, and Sosa's B-Team, and everyone, really. They aren’t even a fourth of the way through the production schedule. He suspects it's going to get worse. But at least he’s got beer, he figures. Whatever this is, he'll deal.
“Yeah-huh?”
“I have a problem.”
“What problem...” Patrick pauses to turn a page. It’s definitely Cooper. Only that guy has that kind of sweet panic in his voice that doesn’t seem like it should be anywhere near his conman character, but seems to be working out pretty damn good so far. “... is that?”
“Umm...” and he can almost hear Bradley biting his lip. “Liam fucked me last week. Or, I guess, I...fucked...him. It works both ways, right, I mean, the adjectives, or verbs or whatever, the words for it? Cause it’s like, different, for guys, right?”
That Patrick looks up for. Just for a second. Goes back to his book. When had this happened? There was that kissing incident a while back. Huh. He hadn’t put the pieces together on that one. He’d thought it was just Brad being Brad. Goofy. “Well, uh, congratulations, I guess?”
“Yeah.” Bradley laughs a little. “And it was fan-fucking-tastic. He is hung like a...”
“Cooper, seriously, do you mind? I’m trying to read.”
“What, are you rereading the last Harry Potter book, man?” Bradley’s kneeling down by the edge of the sofa and swats the paperback away. “This is serious.”
"So are Sirius Black's last moments on Earth!"
Bradley makes a little air-clapping gesture with his free hand against the cover of the captured book.
“I think most of us, even the straight guys around here, would give our last nickle to be fucked by Liam Neeson.” Patrick concedes, not going as far as to say he's thought about it, and snatches for his book instead.
Brad keeps it just out of reach, and lays a hand on Patrick’s chest. A little shy. “No, dude, that was like the first time for me, know what I mean?”
The other actor tries not to groan. All the possibilities of deflowering a virgin Bradley Cooper race through his mind, and it makes him a little sad that Liam got there first. And really? Nobody else has ever wanted to, ever tried, ever made the attempt to boldly go there before? “Yeah, usually saying first time makes it pretty clear. What’s the problem?”
“It was awesome.”
“I bet it was.”
“Yeah, it was awesome and it made me realize there’s this whole realm of sexual... whatever out there that I haven’t really explored before because I didn’t think I’d like it and I liked it and...”
Oh, hell, he’s babbling again. Like he always does when he’s nervous. Babbles or shuts down, which makes most of his interviews pretty funny to watch. Patrick rolls his eyes and swings into sitting up on the sofa and puts a finger on his lips to shut him up. First things first here. “Why are you telling me this?”
“I... I don’t know what I’m doing, Patrick.”
“And you think I do?” Bradley raises an eyebrow, and it hits the other man like a sack of bricks. “Because of Angels in America? Because I played a gay guy?”
“Yeah, well, kind of...”
Patrick thinks about this for a minute. Yeah, that had been an incredible, eye-opening experience, led him to figure it out for himself, but still... he’s not going to let Cooper get away with pulling that. Hell no. “My character was a damn Mormon! Repressed out the wazoo! He didn’t really know what to do... and shouldn’t you have this conversation with your parents or something?”
“Like sex ed? Jesus, Wilson, I’m not a fifth grade anymore.”
“Fooled me.”
“Hilarious.”
There’s a hand on his knee, and Patrick does not like the look he’s getting right now. At all.
Damn. He’s going to cave, isn’t he?
“You curious about topping, or did you like being on the bottom?”
Yup, caved. Couldn’t help himself. But he was only asking because he was curio...
“Bottom was really good, but that’s all we did. There’s more to it, right? The Internet says there’s more...”
Patrick groans, despite himself, and tells himself this is all going to be a big favor to a friend, because honestly, does he really want to let Bradley fish around on the Internet for information? That’s like setting a gringo from squeaky-clan Utah loose in Compton to troll for a girlfriend. Not a good place to be doing that sort of thing. Can’t fail a buddy in this regard, not one who’s asking. “Okay, fine, you wore me down, Brad. What do you want to know?”
Bradley’s beaming at him, and Patrick almost wishes he could take that last sentence back.
This is either going to be the most awkward thing ever... or the greatest. Too early to tell, Patrick tells himself, and pats the sofa next to him. “Get up here and let’s talk.”
Brad hops up next to him on the sofa, this contrite little-kid look on his face, and Patrick really wasn’t expecting this when he woke up this morning. Not that it’s not a pleasant, pleasant surprise... “Are you on lunch right now?”
“Got an hour.”
He gets up and locks the door. Then, remembering which intern it was he kicked out of here earlier, tech geek with a serious hard-on for the equipment in here, he jams a chair under the knob. Patrick can tell Bradley’s watching him, waiting, and he wonders if the other man even knows what he wants to ask. There’s some weird shit on the Internet, after all.
So he glides over and sits down on the arm of the sofa. He traces a finger along the edge of Bradley’s jaw, ear to chin to ear, a little circuit. “I’m guessing Liam kissed you?”
“Yeah,” and Brad’s voice catches a little, “there was some kissing.”
“He undress you?”
“Yeah...” and a shiver runs through the other man. Shit, he’s got it bad, Patrick tells himself, and lets his hand start to wander down, onto a shoulder.
“He get naked?”
“No, just, uh, just unbuckled...”
“And he stretched you, opened you up, pushed right in?”
“Yeah. There was a lot of that.”
“Came inside you or did he pull out? Did he touch you while he was doing it? Did you come?”
“Patrick!”
“You asked, man. Info, come on, I need the info.”
Bradley’s blushing bright red now, but he shakes his head. “No, he, uh, he didn’t pull out, and... I came...”
“Yeah?”
“...when he told me to.”
Patrick’s hand, circling Brad’s nipple through the fabric of his shirt, seizes up for a second, the mental image almost too hot to stand, and tries to stay calm. Liam, doing all that, just that, on Bradley’s first go ‘round with this? Kinky. “Hmm.”
“Hmm? That’s all you’ve got to say?”
“Well, I could tell you about my first time - do you want to hear about my first time?” He gets a nod. “So, I had to kiss Ben, the guy who played Louis, for a couple of scenes and I started thinking about it and...” he trails off. No, Bradley doesn’t really need to hear this story, not all the details, the LA gay bars and freaked about being recognized and some of the bullshit that comes along with that whole scene. Nope, none of that. Guy’s just here to have fun, and this sounds like fun. Fun sounds like fun right now. “Anyway, it wasn’t anal the first time around for me.”
“Is that not supposed to happen?”
“There’s no ‘supposed to’ or whatever. If Liam and you were both cool with it, I wouldn’t stress over it.”
Bradley nods and smirks, like he knows just how good he’s got it. And he’s obviously got Liam, what’s he doing here, anyway? Lucky bastard, with this cast... “So, what’d you get?”
“Blowjob.”
Patrick lets himself slip off the arm, landing nearly in Bradley’s lap, and the other actor has to scoots back, fast, to avoid being crushed. It’s awkward, almost uncomfortable, but Patrick kneels up between his knees and rubs, pushing them out. Bradley keeps scooting until Patrick grabs his belt.
“Woah there, killer, where do you think you’re going?”
“What are you doing?”
He smiles at the other man’s unabashed, so eager innocence. Yeah, this is going to be a lot of fun. Tugs on that belt. “Telling you about my first time, Brad.”
Patrick slides in until he’s just comfortable, right to the perfect spot, letting Brad scoot back a little more, against the other arm. Good, right there, and he runs his hands up to circle the other actor’s waist.
“And you are doing...”
What, like he’s taking notes or something? Patrick grins at that. “Okay, now, you can just go for, like a teenage girl in the back of her daddy’s pick-up, which may be a good strategy for you, Cooper, cause you are kind of...”
“Why does everybody keep comparing me to a...” he pouts.
“Because you’re adorable, darling. Now listen up. You can do that, or you can play a little bit.”
“Play?”
Brad sounds uncertain, so Patrick mouths the already appreciable bulge in the younger man’s jeans, letting his teeth drag over the seam of his fly. Now Bradley just sounds aroused, and that’s a truly lovely sound. So Patrick does it again. And again.
“Oh, oh, god...”
“Like that?”
“Fuck...”
“I’ll take that for a yes.” Patrick snaps open the top button of Brad’s jeans. And he just can’t resist, so he grabs the zipper of the other man’s fly with his teeth and drags it down. He can feel Bradley trembling already, and unable to help himself, licks right up already-damp briefs. “Sometimes you want to add a little flair...”
Both of those hands come flying into his hair, like they’re holding on for dear life, as Patrick starts licking and sucking in turn, teasing hard flesh, still trapped inside white cotton. Brad’s gasping and writhing, and almost too late, Patrick realizes he’s close, really close, and lays one last kiss on the fabric before pulling it down and away and wraps his hands around the base of that cock, squeezing just hard enough, just in case.
Brad almost sobs in relief. Patrick wonders if the other man even knows what he’s doing right now. Oh, orgasm denial. Wouldn’t that be a fun lesson?
“Shh, come on, Cooper, you aren’t going to die on me. Now, you wanted to know?”
He watches Bradley swallow, and nod.
“Okay, right, so I’ve got your cock out...”
“Uh, Patrick?”
“What is it, Brad?” he asks, maybe a little annoyed at that point. He can feel his co-star’s erection throbbing in his hand and he really, really wants it in his mouth. Right now. “You okay?”
“Do you have to call it a cock? That word kind of, I don’t know...makes me uncomfortable.”
This last part is whispered. Also, Patrick ignores it.
“So I’ve got your cock out, and little Bradley Cooper here is just begging for some attention. There are so many things, I’m going to do this,” and rotating his hand, he drags his tongue over his thumb and all the way up that erect flesh, base to tip, “a couple of times.”
He does exactly that.
Bradley’s hands are tight enough to start pulling hair, and he rubs a reassuring hand on the other actor’s belly, up under his shirt, smiling to himself at how those abs flutter against his palm. Patrick forces himself to discount his own neediness, his own arousal, and grinds down into the sofa cushions, just a little, needing some friction...
“Don’t forget,” he says, “you want to give the tip some attention.” And swirls his tongue slowly around the leaking head of the other man’s cock, closing the edge of his lips around it, and as he pulls away, licks the beading pre-cum off. “Just like that.”
“Oh, shit, Patrick...”
“Shit? That’s not nice, Brad, considering. Come on here, focus.” Patrick leaves his hand there, stroking lightly. “Feel that?”
“...yeah...”
“Good. Now I’m going to take you in a little.” He closes his hand around the base of Bradley’s cock, Mini Cooper he thinks and almost starts laughing. Works his way down, working his lips until they meet his hand, cheeks hollowing, just for a moment, bobs a few times, and pulls off. “Paying attention? Seeing what I’m doing here? My hand?”
“Patrick...”
He pumps a little. “You won’t be able to do it all at once, so don’t worry about that. Takes time.”
“No, Patrick, please, I’m...”
Oh, right, that.
Patrick takes Bradley in all the way, down to the root, that cockhead nudging up against his gag reflex, just this side of painful, and starts really going for it. Bradley’s hands fall away, the man reduced to a increasingly loud, moaning puddle of need, and Patrick almost considers pulling off again and telling the other actor to keep it quiet, when he feels him tense and make a different noise and then he’s coming.
Hard.
It’s been a few months since Patrick’s had the chance to do something like this, and he swallows eagerly, hand leaving that man’s sculpted belly, coming up to gently roll his sac, coaxing him through his orgasm as he shudders and cries his way through it.
He doesn’t pull off until he’s sure he’s gotten every last drop, and laves the softening flesh clean again. Patrick tucks Bradley back together, and pets that soft caramel hair, waiting for him to come out of it, fight his way back to the surface.
“Mmmpgh,” Bradley says, and eases himself into a more seated kind of position. He reaches up for Patrick hand, holding it against his head, not letting him pull away. “That was awesome.”
Patrick shrugs, and tugs a little on the hem of Bradley’s shirt. “It’s basic vanilla. It’s all about developing your own technique, figuring out what your partner likes, that sort of thing.”
“No. No, really. It was so different, like, really, really good.”
There are a couple of lines from Angels that have stuck with Patrick through the years. He was never as sweet as Joe Pitt was, not by half, but still, some of the stuff is just too classic to not use on the unsuspecting. “Oh honey, that’s just the gay virgin in you talking,” he sighs.
Brad’s eyes get wide. “Does this, uh, does this mean I’m gay?”
Patrick resists the urge to facepalm. “It means you like having sex with men.”
“Yeah, but doesn’t that mean I am supposed to like, uh, do I have get like a feather boa or something now...”
See, Patrick wants to say, do you see, Brad? This is why the Internet is the worst invention in the history of mankind and you shouldn’t be asking it for advice. Fucking stereotypes... “Bradley Cooper, are you seriously going to come to me for sex help, and then ask me existential questions about your sense of identity? Seriously. Take that shit to Liam, he's a serious guy. But if you want to take mini-cooper there out of the garage every so often, I’m here for you, man.”
Brad smirks and leans forward a little, then a little more. Patrick's cock throbs, and he smiles back.
“You’re right, Wilson,” and a nervous, eager hand starts pushing Patrick back into the sofa. “Can we make sure I really understand how to drive stick?”
If Little Patrick wasn’t so amenable to that suggestion right now, full-size Patrick figures he and Brad would have to have a few words about the appropriateness of punning during fucking.
"Gonna take more than one lesson to master, though."
That gets a very, very happy nod.
And as it is, Brad proves himself to be more than able, enthusiasm being eighty percent of this sort of thing and all that, and Patrick just lays back on the couch, happy in the afterglow, as Bradley smiles and skirts around the corner of the door, back to the set.
The intern comes around a moment later, her headphones hanging around her neck, and a confused expression on her face. She looks at Patrick, and then at what must surely be Bradley’s lovely retreating ass, and back to Patrick. “What was he...”
“Would you go get me another beer, sweetheart?” he asks, and holds up the can he was drinking an hour ago. “This one’s gone flat.”
From the little smile that starts spreading on her face, Patrick has the sudden sneaking suspicion that this is going to get all over set. Or TMZ, the blogs, Livejournal, all that bullshit... shit, he’d forgotten about Livejournal.
“Damn the Internet,” he mutters.
He just hopes she’s not one of those types who writes fanfiction. She looks like she might have a Livejournal account. And he's already bracing for the fanfic as it is with this film, the way those idiots act on-camera.
She looks confused. “Patrick?”
He smiles, and points. Confused is good. He’s okay with confused. “Beer. Go. Now.”
On the other hand, the RPS possibilities would be endless, wouldn't they?
Rating: R
Warnings: none
Summary: A continuation, yes more, of the nutty RPS that just doesn’t seem to stop!
Brad wants some gay sex advice. Patrick dishes.
“Patrick, you gotta help me.”
Patrick barely looks up from his novel, from where he’s sprawled on the sofa in the little editing room, drinking a beer. It’s quiet in here this time of day, once a guy kicks the interns out, and he was really looking forward to a morning of no shenanigans. Not that he doesn’t like the shenanigans. But there seems to be an increasing amount of them between the A-Team guys, and Sosa's B-Team, and everyone, really. They aren’t even a fourth of the way through the production schedule. He suspects it's going to get worse. But at least he’s got beer, he figures. Whatever this is, he'll deal.
“Yeah-huh?”
“I have a problem.”
“What problem...” Patrick pauses to turn a page. It’s definitely Cooper. Only that guy has that kind of sweet panic in his voice that doesn’t seem like it should be anywhere near his conman character, but seems to be working out pretty damn good so far. “... is that?”
“Umm...” and he can almost hear Bradley biting his lip. “Liam fucked me last week. Or, I guess, I...fucked...him. It works both ways, right, I mean, the adjectives, or verbs or whatever, the words for it? Cause it’s like, different, for guys, right?”
That Patrick looks up for. Just for a second. Goes back to his book. When had this happened? There was that kissing incident a while back. Huh. He hadn’t put the pieces together on that one. He’d thought it was just Brad being Brad. Goofy. “Well, uh, congratulations, I guess?”
“Yeah.” Bradley laughs a little. “And it was fan-fucking-tastic. He is hung like a...”
“Cooper, seriously, do you mind? I’m trying to read.”
“What, are you rereading the last Harry Potter book, man?” Bradley’s kneeling down by the edge of the sofa and swats the paperback away. “This is serious.”
"So are Sirius Black's last moments on Earth!"
Bradley makes a little air-clapping gesture with his free hand against the cover of the captured book.
“I think most of us, even the straight guys around here, would give our last nickle to be fucked by Liam Neeson.” Patrick concedes, not going as far as to say he's thought about it, and snatches for his book instead.
Brad keeps it just out of reach, and lays a hand on Patrick’s chest. A little shy. “No, dude, that was like the first time for me, know what I mean?”
The other actor tries not to groan. All the possibilities of deflowering a virgin Bradley Cooper race through his mind, and it makes him a little sad that Liam got there first. And really? Nobody else has ever wanted to, ever tried, ever made the attempt to boldly go there before? “Yeah, usually saying first time makes it pretty clear. What’s the problem?”
“It was awesome.”
“I bet it was.”
“Yeah, it was awesome and it made me realize there’s this whole realm of sexual... whatever out there that I haven’t really explored before because I didn’t think I’d like it and I liked it and...”
Oh, hell, he’s babbling again. Like he always does when he’s nervous. Babbles or shuts down, which makes most of his interviews pretty funny to watch. Patrick rolls his eyes and swings into sitting up on the sofa and puts a finger on his lips to shut him up. First things first here. “Why are you telling me this?”
“I... I don’t know what I’m doing, Patrick.”
“And you think I do?” Bradley raises an eyebrow, and it hits the other man like a sack of bricks. “Because of Angels in America? Because I played a gay guy?”
“Yeah, well, kind of...”
Patrick thinks about this for a minute. Yeah, that had been an incredible, eye-opening experience, led him to figure it out for himself, but still... he’s not going to let Cooper get away with pulling that. Hell no. “My character was a damn Mormon! Repressed out the wazoo! He didn’t really know what to do... and shouldn’t you have this conversation with your parents or something?”
“Like sex ed? Jesus, Wilson, I’m not a fifth grade anymore.”
“Fooled me.”
“Hilarious.”
There’s a hand on his knee, and Patrick does not like the look he’s getting right now. At all.
Damn. He’s going to cave, isn’t he?
“You curious about topping, or did you like being on the bottom?”
Yup, caved. Couldn’t help himself. But he was only asking because he was curio...
“Bottom was really good, but that’s all we did. There’s more to it, right? The Internet says there’s more...”
Patrick groans, despite himself, and tells himself this is all going to be a big favor to a friend, because honestly, does he really want to let Bradley fish around on the Internet for information? That’s like setting a gringo from squeaky-clan Utah loose in Compton to troll for a girlfriend. Not a good place to be doing that sort of thing. Can’t fail a buddy in this regard, not one who’s asking. “Okay, fine, you wore me down, Brad. What do you want to know?”
Bradley’s beaming at him, and Patrick almost wishes he could take that last sentence back.
This is either going to be the most awkward thing ever... or the greatest. Too early to tell, Patrick tells himself, and pats the sofa next to him. “Get up here and let’s talk.”
Brad hops up next to him on the sofa, this contrite little-kid look on his face, and Patrick really wasn’t expecting this when he woke up this morning. Not that it’s not a pleasant, pleasant surprise... “Are you on lunch right now?”
“Got an hour.”
He gets up and locks the door. Then, remembering which intern it was he kicked out of here earlier, tech geek with a serious hard-on for the equipment in here, he jams a chair under the knob. Patrick can tell Bradley’s watching him, waiting, and he wonders if the other man even knows what he wants to ask. There’s some weird shit on the Internet, after all.
So he glides over and sits down on the arm of the sofa. He traces a finger along the edge of Bradley’s jaw, ear to chin to ear, a little circuit. “I’m guessing Liam kissed you?”
“Yeah,” and Brad’s voice catches a little, “there was some kissing.”
“He undress you?”
“Yeah...” and a shiver runs through the other man. Shit, he’s got it bad, Patrick tells himself, and lets his hand start to wander down, onto a shoulder.
“He get naked?”
“No, just, uh, just unbuckled...”
“And he stretched you, opened you up, pushed right in?”
“Yeah. There was a lot of that.”
“Came inside you or did he pull out? Did he touch you while he was doing it? Did you come?”
“Patrick!”
“You asked, man. Info, come on, I need the info.”
Bradley’s blushing bright red now, but he shakes his head. “No, he, uh, he didn’t pull out, and... I came...”
“Yeah?”
“...when he told me to.”
Patrick’s hand, circling Brad’s nipple through the fabric of his shirt, seizes up for a second, the mental image almost too hot to stand, and tries to stay calm. Liam, doing all that, just that, on Bradley’s first go ‘round with this? Kinky. “Hmm.”
“Hmm? That’s all you’ve got to say?”
“Well, I could tell you about my first time - do you want to hear about my first time?” He gets a nod. “So, I had to kiss Ben, the guy who played Louis, for a couple of scenes and I started thinking about it and...” he trails off. No, Bradley doesn’t really need to hear this story, not all the details, the LA gay bars and freaked about being recognized and some of the bullshit that comes along with that whole scene. Nope, none of that. Guy’s just here to have fun, and this sounds like fun. Fun sounds like fun right now. “Anyway, it wasn’t anal the first time around for me.”
“Is that not supposed to happen?”
“There’s no ‘supposed to’ or whatever. If Liam and you were both cool with it, I wouldn’t stress over it.”
Bradley nods and smirks, like he knows just how good he’s got it. And he’s obviously got Liam, what’s he doing here, anyway? Lucky bastard, with this cast... “So, what’d you get?”
“Blowjob.”
Patrick lets himself slip off the arm, landing nearly in Bradley’s lap, and the other actor has to scoots back, fast, to avoid being crushed. It’s awkward, almost uncomfortable, but Patrick kneels up between his knees and rubs, pushing them out. Bradley keeps scooting until Patrick grabs his belt.
“Woah there, killer, where do you think you’re going?”
“What are you doing?”
He smiles at the other man’s unabashed, so eager innocence. Yeah, this is going to be a lot of fun. Tugs on that belt. “Telling you about my first time, Brad.”
Patrick slides in until he’s just comfortable, right to the perfect spot, letting Brad scoot back a little more, against the other arm. Good, right there, and he runs his hands up to circle the other actor’s waist.
“And you are doing...”
What, like he’s taking notes or something? Patrick grins at that. “Okay, now, you can just go for, like a teenage girl in the back of her daddy’s pick-up, which may be a good strategy for you, Cooper, cause you are kind of...”
“Why does everybody keep comparing me to a...” he pouts.
“Because you’re adorable, darling. Now listen up. You can do that, or you can play a little bit.”
“Play?”
Brad sounds uncertain, so Patrick mouths the already appreciable bulge in the younger man’s jeans, letting his teeth drag over the seam of his fly. Now Bradley just sounds aroused, and that’s a truly lovely sound. So Patrick does it again. And again.
“Oh, oh, god...”
“Like that?”
“Fuck...”
“I’ll take that for a yes.” Patrick snaps open the top button of Brad’s jeans. And he just can’t resist, so he grabs the zipper of the other man’s fly with his teeth and drags it down. He can feel Bradley trembling already, and unable to help himself, licks right up already-damp briefs. “Sometimes you want to add a little flair...”
Both of those hands come flying into his hair, like they’re holding on for dear life, as Patrick starts licking and sucking in turn, teasing hard flesh, still trapped inside white cotton. Brad’s gasping and writhing, and almost too late, Patrick realizes he’s close, really close, and lays one last kiss on the fabric before pulling it down and away and wraps his hands around the base of that cock, squeezing just hard enough, just in case.
Brad almost sobs in relief. Patrick wonders if the other man even knows what he’s doing right now. Oh, orgasm denial. Wouldn’t that be a fun lesson?
“Shh, come on, Cooper, you aren’t going to die on me. Now, you wanted to know?”
He watches Bradley swallow, and nod.
“Okay, right, so I’ve got your cock out...”
“Uh, Patrick?”
“What is it, Brad?” he asks, maybe a little annoyed at that point. He can feel his co-star’s erection throbbing in his hand and he really, really wants it in his mouth. Right now. “You okay?”
“Do you have to call it a cock? That word kind of, I don’t know...makes me uncomfortable.”
This last part is whispered. Also, Patrick ignores it.
“So I’ve got your cock out, and little Bradley Cooper here is just begging for some attention. There are so many things, I’m going to do this,” and rotating his hand, he drags his tongue over his thumb and all the way up that erect flesh, base to tip, “a couple of times.”
He does exactly that.
Bradley’s hands are tight enough to start pulling hair, and he rubs a reassuring hand on the other actor’s belly, up under his shirt, smiling to himself at how those abs flutter against his palm. Patrick forces himself to discount his own neediness, his own arousal, and grinds down into the sofa cushions, just a little, needing some friction...
“Don’t forget,” he says, “you want to give the tip some attention.” And swirls his tongue slowly around the leaking head of the other man’s cock, closing the edge of his lips around it, and as he pulls away, licks the beading pre-cum off. “Just like that.”
“Oh, shit, Patrick...”
“Shit? That’s not nice, Brad, considering. Come on here, focus.” Patrick leaves his hand there, stroking lightly. “Feel that?”
“...yeah...”
“Good. Now I’m going to take you in a little.” He closes his hand around the base of Bradley’s cock, Mini Cooper he thinks and almost starts laughing. Works his way down, working his lips until they meet his hand, cheeks hollowing, just for a moment, bobs a few times, and pulls off. “Paying attention? Seeing what I’m doing here? My hand?”
“Patrick...”
He pumps a little. “You won’t be able to do it all at once, so don’t worry about that. Takes time.”
“No, Patrick, please, I’m...”
Oh, right, that.
Patrick takes Bradley in all the way, down to the root, that cockhead nudging up against his gag reflex, just this side of painful, and starts really going for it. Bradley’s hands fall away, the man reduced to a increasingly loud, moaning puddle of need, and Patrick almost considers pulling off again and telling the other actor to keep it quiet, when he feels him tense and make a different noise and then he’s coming.
Hard.
It’s been a few months since Patrick’s had the chance to do something like this, and he swallows eagerly, hand leaving that man’s sculpted belly, coming up to gently roll his sac, coaxing him through his orgasm as he shudders and cries his way through it.
He doesn’t pull off until he’s sure he’s gotten every last drop, and laves the softening flesh clean again. Patrick tucks Bradley back together, and pets that soft caramel hair, waiting for him to come out of it, fight his way back to the surface.
“Mmmpgh,” Bradley says, and eases himself into a more seated kind of position. He reaches up for Patrick hand, holding it against his head, not letting him pull away. “That was awesome.”
Patrick shrugs, and tugs a little on the hem of Bradley’s shirt. “It’s basic vanilla. It’s all about developing your own technique, figuring out what your partner likes, that sort of thing.”
“No. No, really. It was so different, like, really, really good.”
There are a couple of lines from Angels that have stuck with Patrick through the years. He was never as sweet as Joe Pitt was, not by half, but still, some of the stuff is just too classic to not use on the unsuspecting. “Oh honey, that’s just the gay virgin in you talking,” he sighs.
Brad’s eyes get wide. “Does this, uh, does this mean I’m gay?”
Patrick resists the urge to facepalm. “It means you like having sex with men.”
“Yeah, but doesn’t that mean I am supposed to like, uh, do I have get like a feather boa or something now...”
See, Patrick wants to say, do you see, Brad? This is why the Internet is the worst invention in the history of mankind and you shouldn’t be asking it for advice. Fucking stereotypes... “Bradley Cooper, are you seriously going to come to me for sex help, and then ask me existential questions about your sense of identity? Seriously. Take that shit to Liam, he's a serious guy. But if you want to take mini-cooper there out of the garage every so often, I’m here for you, man.”
Brad smirks and leans forward a little, then a little more. Patrick's cock throbs, and he smiles back.
“You’re right, Wilson,” and a nervous, eager hand starts pushing Patrick back into the sofa. “Can we make sure I really understand how to drive stick?”
If Little Patrick wasn’t so amenable to that suggestion right now, full-size Patrick figures he and Brad would have to have a few words about the appropriateness of punning during fucking.
"Gonna take more than one lesson to master, though."
That gets a very, very happy nod.
And as it is, Brad proves himself to be more than able, enthusiasm being eighty percent of this sort of thing and all that, and Patrick just lays back on the couch, happy in the afterglow, as Bradley smiles and skirts around the corner of the door, back to the set.
The intern comes around a moment later, her headphones hanging around her neck, and a confused expression on her face. She looks at Patrick, and then at what must surely be Bradley’s lovely retreating ass, and back to Patrick. “What was he...”
“Would you go get me another beer, sweetheart?” he asks, and holds up the can he was drinking an hour ago. “This one’s gone flat.”
From the little smile that starts spreading on her face, Patrick has the sudden sneaking suspicion that this is going to get all over set. Or TMZ, the blogs, Livejournal, all that bullshit... shit, he’d forgotten about Livejournal.
“Damn the Internet,” he mutters.
He just hopes she’s not one of those types who writes fanfiction. She looks like she might have a Livejournal account. And he's already bracing for the fanfic as it is with this film, the way those idiots act on-camera.
She looks confused. “Patrick?”
He smiles, and points. Confused is good. He’s okay with confused. “Beer. Go. Now.”
On the other hand, the RPS possibilities would be endless, wouldn't they?
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Date: 2011-03-29 01:23 am (UTC)Read that before, too - I think before I de-anoned - but it's still awesome. Patrick is kind of a bastard, but I love him!
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Date: 2011-03-29 01:27 am (UTC)I think I would implode from the awesome.
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Date: 2011-03-29 01:43 am (UTC)And I think I might know a new plot for my embarassing "can't sleep" Mary-Sue fantasies... *hides*