Fic: Want Tomorrow, 1/1. Liam/Bradley.
Jul. 16th, 2010 07:37 pm![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
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cjs_owndisclaimer. Not mine and none of the events described here in have any basis in reality.
title. Want Tomorrow
rating. NC-17
pairing. Liam/Bradley
summary. A little too hard, a little too much.
warnings. D/s leanings.
Their first time, Brad goes down on his knees for Liam.
They're both half drunk and Liam's missing his boys, neither one of them is really thinking straight, but Liam is lonely and Brad's tired of the sad look on his face. It's been great while they're filming the betrayal scenes, now it makes his heart ache.
So with the lingering taste of beer on his tongue, Brad pushes Liam back onto the couch in Neeson's trailer, unzips Liam's pants with his teeth, and does his best to make the old man forget his sorrows. Then, after Liam's loose-limbed and curled up for a nap, Brad walks back to his trailer and tries to box away the memories he's just made.
;;
The production is going smoothly as it nears the end and everyone enjoys it – Sharlto gets way too much fun out of pulling pranks (Brad thinks he'll be sixty before he stops finding glitter in uncomfortable places), Quinton gets way too much fun out of impersonating Mr. T, while Liam savors cigars like they're crack. They're a well-meshed cast with a great on-set staff; jokes get made between takes and even during.
"Brad, hey, maybe you want to move a half an inch closer to Liam – your cock wasn't quite close enough to his head," Jack says one day.
They're trying to get the tank scene completed but Sharlto keeps laughing which makes Quinton laugh, so the tech guys – who were supposed to be done by now – are stuck waiting around. They're all kind of grouchy, taking it out on each other and now, apparently, the talent. Which okay, it happens, but today is a crappy day for it with how exhausted Brad is and how frustrated they all are.
"Why don't you shut your fucking mouth?" Brad shoots back.
He's not sure who mutters, "Geez, fucking asshole," under their breath, but he's ready to punch someone. Seriously, he's not a violent guy normally; today, however, he'll make an exception.
"All right, boys," Liam says, breaking into the impromptu conversation, "We're all hot and tired, so let's walk away before someone does something they'll regret." He's looking right at Brad during the last bit and the younger man has the decency to look contrite, like the proverbial little boy with his hand in the cookie jar.
Brad walks away then, snagging a bottle of water from the cooler next to one of the cameras, and slides into his chair. It is where Liam finds him twenty minutes later, telling Brad, "Joe's done with the scene for today. Let's go."
Dutifully, Brad follows behind Liam, muttering away about asshole techs the entire walk back to the trailers. He doesn't acknowledge where they are, doesn't care, until Liam yanks open his trailer's door, pushes Brad inside, and pins him to the wall.
They're sober this time, and it's Brad who's in the foul mood; it's the complete opposite of the first time, but as Brad's about to point out that this time, there won't be the convenient ability to blame the booze, Liam leans in and kisses him. A little too hard, a little too much, and Brad loves it, kissing back as best he can with his head cradled in Liam's hands.
"Don't move," Liam tells him when Brad tries to push a leg between his. "Just... stay there. For now."
"Okay."
The corner of Liam's lip quirks up.
;;
Their second time takes hours, or at least it feels like hours, and Brad's so wrung out afterwards that he can't even bring himself to return to his own trailer.
He tries not to think about if there will be a third time.
;;
Morning brings the weekend and with it, two days off from shooting. This is the only reason Liam lets Brad sleep in, not because of the crap from the day before.
It is also the only reason that Liam crawls back into bed after hunting down some breakfast, curling around Bradley under the blankets. He presses a kiss to the younger man's forehead, runs a hand along the long curve of Brad's back, and then relaxes, closing his eyes.
He dozes for a while, coming awake only when Brad tries to sneak out of the bed. "Where are you going?" he asks pointedly, voice stern.
Brad sighs as he pulls on his shirt, telling Liam, "Look, I... I don't know what happened last night, but I think I should go." He reaches for his pants, only to be yanked back and pushed down on the bed; automatically, he relents, and settles against the mattress.
Liam surprises him by leaning in, kissing Brad much the way he had last night, and when he pulls away, Liam says, "You do not ever tell me again that you 'should go', understand? I will tell you when it is time to leave."
"Yes," Brad nods, unsure why he's doing so really but okay with it anyway.
"Now, go back to sleep." It's an order, not a request, and Brad knows the difference. He wastes no time in shifting onto his side and closing his eyes, chasing sleep though his mind is racing.
;;
The next time he wakes, Brad finds he's a little less apt to immediately get out of the bed and a hell of a lot more confused.
He manages, this time, to get out of the bed without waking Liam and get back to his own trailer where he can have his freak-out in private. He showers to calm his itching skin, manages to find an apple in his mini-fridge that he eats only half of, and then huddles on his couch with his head in his hands.
It's been years since he's even looked at another man, a decade since he last slept with one. He'd sworn off guys when he'd started to make a name for himself, and though he's had slip ups here and there, his manager has kept on him about being seen with girls now and again. It's why he's been seen with Renee more often lately.
God, his manager is going to kill him if she finds out. He doubts she will but Brad wonders sometimes if the woman is actually omnipotent, given the things she knows about him, so he won't be surprised if she does hear that he's been fucked by Liam Neeson.
Fuck...
He rubs at his eyes and lets out a breath, leaning back against the couch until his head is against a cushion and his feet are up on the tiny coffeetable.
"You aren't very good at listening to others, are you?"
Brad's head shoots up and he looks at the man propped against his trailer door. Liam appears to be pretty entertained on the surface, but Brad knows there's an undercurrent of annoyance.
He shakes his head. "Not really."
Liam smirks.
;;
"Oh, fuck," Brad groans, pushing himself up on his hands and knees, trying to gain some leverage. He's sore, but he needs more than he's getting, these slow, measured thrusts, and he wants to feel more than the two points of contact Liam's allowed: Liam's hands on Brad's waist, his cock nestled warm between Brad's thighs. It's a taunt to him, when he would do anything to be pushed down and taken.
Liam shoves him back down by the neck, pulls his hips up and thrusts a handful of times more; he knows Brad is getting frustrated and damned if he doesn't like it – the noises the man makes when he's desperate are beautiful – but he's beginning to need more himself.
The lube is easy to reach, already open from earlier when he'd slicked Brad's thighs and now he wets his fingers with it, pushes them into Brad without hesitation. He hears the grunt, yet knows it is neither one of pain or displeasure. On the contrary, he's enjoying the roughness, the catch of skin, and Liam grins at the knowledge.
With no other prep but a few fingers and the barest use of the lube, Liam presses into Bradley in one long thrust. There's a whimper at first, then Bradley lets out a moan that he will likely deny having made later and he shifts his knees further apart, toes flexing.
"Look at you," Liam breathes between one thrust and the next. "You look like you were made for this... stretched around my cock."
Brad nods, "Fuck yes," as he tries to push back.
Liam nips at his neck, at the juncture between throat and shoulder, and Bradley whispers another curse as Liam bites down, worrying the skin. He leaves a perfect, reddening mark behind; he takes great enjoyment from seeing his mark on Bradley's skin.
"Mine now," Liam tells him, "Mine."
And Bradley comes.
title. Want Tomorrow
rating. NC-17
pairing. Liam/Bradley
summary. A little too hard, a little too much.
warnings. D/s leanings.
Their first time, Brad goes down on his knees for Liam.
They're both half drunk and Liam's missing his boys, neither one of them is really thinking straight, but Liam is lonely and Brad's tired of the sad look on his face. It's been great while they're filming the betrayal scenes, now it makes his heart ache.
So with the lingering taste of beer on his tongue, Brad pushes Liam back onto the couch in Neeson's trailer, unzips Liam's pants with his teeth, and does his best to make the old man forget his sorrows. Then, after Liam's loose-limbed and curled up for a nap, Brad walks back to his trailer and tries to box away the memories he's just made.
The production is going smoothly as it nears the end and everyone enjoys it – Sharlto gets way too much fun out of pulling pranks (Brad thinks he'll be sixty before he stops finding glitter in uncomfortable places), Quinton gets way too much fun out of impersonating Mr. T, while Liam savors cigars like they're crack. They're a well-meshed cast with a great on-set staff; jokes get made between takes and even during.
"Brad, hey, maybe you want to move a half an inch closer to Liam – your cock wasn't quite close enough to his head," Jack says one day.
They're trying to get the tank scene completed but Sharlto keeps laughing which makes Quinton laugh, so the tech guys – who were supposed to be done by now – are stuck waiting around. They're all kind of grouchy, taking it out on each other and now, apparently, the talent. Which okay, it happens, but today is a crappy day for it with how exhausted Brad is and how frustrated they all are.
"Why don't you shut your fucking mouth?" Brad shoots back.
He's not sure who mutters, "Geez, fucking asshole," under their breath, but he's ready to punch someone. Seriously, he's not a violent guy normally; today, however, he'll make an exception.
"All right, boys," Liam says, breaking into the impromptu conversation, "We're all hot and tired, so let's walk away before someone does something they'll regret." He's looking right at Brad during the last bit and the younger man has the decency to look contrite, like the proverbial little boy with his hand in the cookie jar.
Brad walks away then, snagging a bottle of water from the cooler next to one of the cameras, and slides into his chair. It is where Liam finds him twenty minutes later, telling Brad, "Joe's done with the scene for today. Let's go."
Dutifully, Brad follows behind Liam, muttering away about asshole techs the entire walk back to the trailers. He doesn't acknowledge where they are, doesn't care, until Liam yanks open his trailer's door, pushes Brad inside, and pins him to the wall.
They're sober this time, and it's Brad who's in the foul mood; it's the complete opposite of the first time, but as Brad's about to point out that this time, there won't be the convenient ability to blame the booze, Liam leans in and kisses him. A little too hard, a little too much, and Brad loves it, kissing back as best he can with his head cradled in Liam's hands.
"Don't move," Liam tells him when Brad tries to push a leg between his. "Just... stay there. For now."
"Okay."
The corner of Liam's lip quirks up.
Their second time takes hours, or at least it feels like hours, and Brad's so wrung out afterwards that he can't even bring himself to return to his own trailer.
He tries not to think about if there will be a third time.
Morning brings the weekend and with it, two days off from shooting. This is the only reason Liam lets Brad sleep in, not because of the crap from the day before.
It is also the only reason that Liam crawls back into bed after hunting down some breakfast, curling around Bradley under the blankets. He presses a kiss to the younger man's forehead, runs a hand along the long curve of Brad's back, and then relaxes, closing his eyes.
He dozes for a while, coming awake only when Brad tries to sneak out of the bed. "Where are you going?" he asks pointedly, voice stern.
Brad sighs as he pulls on his shirt, telling Liam, "Look, I... I don't know what happened last night, but I think I should go." He reaches for his pants, only to be yanked back and pushed down on the bed; automatically, he relents, and settles against the mattress.
Liam surprises him by leaning in, kissing Brad much the way he had last night, and when he pulls away, Liam says, "You do not ever tell me again that you 'should go', understand? I will tell you when it is time to leave."
"Yes," Brad nods, unsure why he's doing so really but okay with it anyway.
"Now, go back to sleep." It's an order, not a request, and Brad knows the difference. He wastes no time in shifting onto his side and closing his eyes, chasing sleep though his mind is racing.
The next time he wakes, Brad finds he's a little less apt to immediately get out of the bed and a hell of a lot more confused.
He manages, this time, to get out of the bed without waking Liam and get back to his own trailer where he can have his freak-out in private. He showers to calm his itching skin, manages to find an apple in his mini-fridge that he eats only half of, and then huddles on his couch with his head in his hands.
It's been years since he's even looked at another man, a decade since he last slept with one. He'd sworn off guys when he'd started to make a name for himself, and though he's had slip ups here and there, his manager has kept on him about being seen with girls now and again. It's why he's been seen with Renee more often lately.
God, his manager is going to kill him if she finds out. He doubts she will but Brad wonders sometimes if the woman is actually omnipotent, given the things she knows about him, so he won't be surprised if she does hear that he's been fucked by Liam Neeson.
Fuck...
He rubs at his eyes and lets out a breath, leaning back against the couch until his head is against a cushion and his feet are up on the tiny coffeetable.
"You aren't very good at listening to others, are you?"
Brad's head shoots up and he looks at the man propped against his trailer door. Liam appears to be pretty entertained on the surface, but Brad knows there's an undercurrent of annoyance.
He shakes his head. "Not really."
Liam smirks.
"Oh, fuck," Brad groans, pushing himself up on his hands and knees, trying to gain some leverage. He's sore, but he needs more than he's getting, these slow, measured thrusts, and he wants to feel more than the two points of contact Liam's allowed: Liam's hands on Brad's waist, his cock nestled warm between Brad's thighs. It's a taunt to him, when he would do anything to be pushed down and taken.
Liam shoves him back down by the neck, pulls his hips up and thrusts a handful of times more; he knows Brad is getting frustrated and damned if he doesn't like it – the noises the man makes when he's desperate are beautiful – but he's beginning to need more himself.
The lube is easy to reach, already open from earlier when he'd slicked Brad's thighs and now he wets his fingers with it, pushes them into Brad without hesitation. He hears the grunt, yet knows it is neither one of pain or displeasure. On the contrary, he's enjoying the roughness, the catch of skin, and Liam grins at the knowledge.
With no other prep but a few fingers and the barest use of the lube, Liam presses into Bradley in one long thrust. There's a whimper at first, then Bradley lets out a moan that he will likely deny having made later and he shifts his knees further apart, toes flexing.
"Look at you," Liam breathes between one thrust and the next. "You look like you were made for this... stretched around my cock."
Brad nods, "Fuck yes," as he tries to push back.
Liam nips at his neck, at the juncture between throat and shoulder, and Bradley whispers another curse as Liam bites down, worrying the skin. He leaves a perfect, reddening mark behind; he takes great enjoyment from seeing his mark on Bradley's skin.
"Mine now," Liam tells him, "Mine."
And Bradley comes.
