Lazarus Coming (fic) 1/3
Title: Lazarus Coming
Author: Olympia
Rating: NC-17
Genre, Pairing: AU, Dean/Castiel
Warnings: first the spoilery onesfor mentions of child abuse, drug and alcohol abuse ; non-spoilery: for using the characters in inappropriate ways
Disclaimers: they all apply; the characters are not mine, I'm just messing with them for fun :)
Word Count: ca 29.400
Summary: Dean (awesome, funny, but mainly HOT) realises there are more things in life than pron when he meets his new partner (the man usually known as Jimmy, cultured, messed-up, and equally HOT) - or, SPN, the AV version
Chuck is a good guy, bless his soul, but he can’t keep his mouth shut. Two minutes since Dean walked into the set and he’s already getting a headache.
“Got it?” Chuck asks and takes a deep breath, probably getting ready for his next monologue.
“Yeah, yeah, I pick up this guy and then we fuck. It’s a porn film, Chuck, not the Odyssey.”
Chuck’s surprise is short-lived. “Yeah, well, aren’t you the clever one? But this is important, Dean.” And there he goes on and on again about his character’s motivation and all that shit.
Not that Dean doesn’t get how important that is; it may be a porn film, but he has some standards. He doesn’t want to do something he wouldn’t watch - if he ever watched himself afterwards, that is. But what kind of a motivation can his character have when he’s supposed to be picking up a random guy for sex? Chuck makes him laugh.
“And here’s your partner, James Dick.”
Dean snorts, and the guy smirks. “Everyone calls me Jimmy,” he says, giving Dean his hand.
He’s a bit old, in his early thirties in real life, which means he’s almost sixty in porn years. Not that Dean cares; as long as the guy doesn’t give him any trouble, he’s fine with that. “Dean Smith.”
“I know. I’ve seen your work.” Jimmy grins, glances at Dean’s groin for a second, and it makes Dean uncomfortable.
“Great, great,” Chuck starts again, all nervous energy. “Can we start now? Take your places.”
The first scene takes place in a bar. There are a couple of extras just to make the setting more believable, and Dean takes a deep breath. He leans casually on the counter and lets his gaze roam, the way he’d do in a real bar, until he settles on Jimmy. According to the script, Jimmy’s character is a businessman visiting this town for, well, business. Dean smirks, orders a drink for Jimmy and the moment the bartender has left the drink in front of him, he makes his move.
“Do you come here often?”
Jimmy gives him a look that is neither heated nor sultry and-- if this was real, if this was him and Jimmy someone he’d just met, he’d probably never bother further. But then Jimmy dips his finger in his drink, traces his lips before licking it, and Dean feels arousal that has nothing to do with the pay-check waiting for him at the end of this job. This wasn’t in the script.
“Well?”
“No.”
Jimmy sips his drink and that close Dean smells it. Real whiskey, not coloured water. What the fuck? And now Jimmy gives him the ‘come hither’ look, and, damn, it is hot. What was his line? Damn.
“Cut,” Chuck shouts. “What’s wrong with you? Stop staring at each other. Dean, you’re supposed to ask if this is Jimmy’s first time here. Jimmy, you’re supposed to say that it is. Gah!” Chuck runs his hands through his hair in utter frustration, making it even more messy than usual. “Start again. Now.”
&*&*
Since this is a porn film and not the Odyssey, the next scene is immediately afterwards. Set in a non-descript motel room, at the start he’s supposed to be sitting down fully dressed while Jimmy takes off his clothes. Unlike him, dressed in jeans and a tee-shirt, Jimmy is in full businessman mode, with a tan trench coat over a dark blue suit, and the bastard takes his time. Dean cups himself gently, teasing his dick over the fabric, watching as Jimmy takes off one layer at the time, and even places each garment carefully on top of the other. If this was real life… He’d probably never have picked the guy up, since he’s not gay. But if it was a woman there, slowly undressing herself, looking at him shyly behind long, dark lashes with her huge blue eyes, oh, yeah, he’d totally get into that.
When Jimmy finally reveals himself, Dean whistles, even though that wasn’t in the script either. The guy’s not bad-looking. Sure, he has a sweet, innocent-looking face, but he also has the body to match, slender and finely muscled. Naked, he looks younger. “Come here,” he says, in low, gruff tone that is not scripted either.
Jimmy falls to his knees and approaches him crawling slowly, staring at him. Not at his dick; at his eyes. It makes Dean feel weird. Jimmy’s gaze is hot and heavy, and when he licks his lips, his mouth shines dark pink. He’d bet anything that Jimmy’s lips are natural, and yet they look so plump and full he wonders how they could be.
He’s not gay, damn it. But this lust that makes his cock harden is not because he imagines that’s a busty Asian beauty on her knees before him. And when Jimmy nuzzles him, his dick jumps excitedly. It almost gets caught in the zipper when Jimmy starts lowering it with his fucking teeth, still staring up at him with eyes wide, his pupils huge, like deep, black pools of liquid fire. Dean’s scared he’ll drown there, but his dick doesn’t care about a thing.
“Oh,” Jimmy whispers as he kisses the head, his hands warm and reverent wrapped around the shaft.
“You can do better than that,” he whispers. For a moment he places his hand on Jimmy’s head, feeling hair so fucking soft, he wants to pet it. He ends up tracing his fingers down Jimmy’s forehead, over smooth skin and hard bones, and rests his hand on Jimmy’s nape when Jimmy opens his mouth and shows him what he can do with it.
Dean’s been doing this thing for quite some time, and most of the time, it’s a simple thing. In and out, suck, swallow. He’s used to women who prefer to jerk him off and play with the top of his head, intimidated by the size of his dick. He’s used to guys who open their mouths wide and try to take as much of him as possible. He’s used to being stared at longingly while being massaged. He’s used to everything.
But he’s not used to someone looking at him like he’s the best thing that ever happened to them, mouth perfectly open, throat perfectly tight, going down on him like they’ll die if they don’t take him in.
“Yes, yes, that’s it,” he hears himself say. “Good boy, yes. Let me fuck that pretty mouth of yours, open up for me. Yes, yes, that’s it,” he says when Jimmy’s nose presses on his pubic hair. Jimmy still looks at him, unconcerned that Dean’s cutting off his air supply, and god, this is the best thing ever, Jimmy making small, muffled noises in the back of his throat, and his breath is hot on his skin, little puffs of air that burn, burn, burn.
Jimmy pulls back slowly, and Dean feels like Jimmy’s kissing him with every backwards drag of his lips. “Oh, yes, fuck that’s good. Do it again.”
Jimmy laughs, he honest-to-god laughs, and the vibrations, the air, the sound, the amusement, travel all the way from Jimmy’s throat to the centre of his being through his dick. He’s supposed to be a pro, but he won’t last long. But the way Chuck nods, and moves his hands enthusiastically for the cameras to keep rolling, maybe that’s not a bad thing.
Jimmy obeys him and his mouth feels tighter and warmer now. His hands are also busy, one playing lightly with his balls, and the other stroking him firmly at the base of the shaft. “I’m gonna cum,” he says as his balls tighten impossibly at the sudden sensation of being completely engulfed without any warning except the twinkle in Jimmy’s eyes.
A tight fist holds him back, and for the next few minutes Dean feels like he’s there just for Jimmy’s pleasure. Jimmy does whatever he wants to him, playing him like an expert with his hands and his mouth. All he can do is hold on, one hand on Jimmy’s nape, one supporting his weight on the bed, and pray that Chuck is getting all of this, because he won’t survive a second round of this. Not on the same day.
Damn it, the guy is insatiable. He knows a good pro is supposed to look hungry for it, but there’s something about the way Jimmy does it, that makes him think that, yeah, anyone watching this would think this is the real deal. A stranger you’ve met on a bar and turns out to be someone who wants to love you, generously and without any strings attached. Fuck; if he weren’t so busy getting blown away, he’d get a little carried away. Not even his girlfriend looks at him like that.
“I’m…”
This time, Jimmy takes mercy on him. He pulls back for the cum shot, and if he looked good before, with his pretty, full lips wrapped around his dick, he looks even better now, with his cheeks flushed and his lips looking, well, well-fucked, and his skin stained with Dean’s cum, shinier shades of white on Jimmy’s pale face. When Jimmy licks his lower lip for a moment, tentatively, almost innocently trying it for flavor, Dean can’t help himself. He spreads his seed on Jimmy’s face, marking him. And Jimmy blinks at him, as if he’s in love, and loves it.
“Great, great, that’s a wrap,” Chuck shouts, and he sounds happy for a change. “Perfect. God, will you stop staring at each other?”
Dean laughs, awkward and ashamed.
But it’s Jimmy, who stands up carefully, taking a towel from a girl to wipe his face, that brings Dean down to earth. “Happy now?” He asks sourly and doesn’t wait for an answer as he moves towards the dressing room. “Great.”
Chuck takes two steps and then stops. “Er, he’s a bit… That was great,” he says again, obviously deciding not to explain anything to Dean. “You were great. Didn’t I promise you this would be the easiest thing you’d ever done? Wasn’t it? I knew you and Jimmy would be a great pair.”
Dean ignores him as Chuck continues like that for what seems an hour. He’s a pro; he’s not a goddamn amateur to care about what his fuck partner does or not. Screw this noise. He’s out of there.
&*&*
“I’m so glad you agreed to do this,” Chuck starts as he shakes Dean’s hand furiously. “You wouldn’t believe how glad I am. The first movie sold exceptionally well, so a sequel was bound to happen, eh? What do you think?”
“Hm.”
“Great, huh?” Chuck smiles like a madman, but the moment they walk into the set, his grin falters. “Ah, and there’s Jimmy. In character, I see,” and he sounds resigned and angry for a moment. Then he smiles again, a smile that is as fake as the bar they just walked into.
Jimmy’s wearing similar clothes to last time, and he’s already nursing a drink. Dean tries not to notice how slender his fingers are, and yet how competently they are wrapped around the glass, and is tempted to bet that the drink there is real again. “Eh, hi,” he says as he’s pushed next to him.
“Hello.” Jimmy looks at him for a moment and then goes back to his drink.
“How very professional,” Dean mutters under his breath.
“You bet,” Jimmy whispers right back, and glances at him from under long lashes.
Chuck pours himself a glass and downs it like a man dying of thirst. “Now that that’s settled,” he says, looking even more frazzled, “the plot is simple. Jimmy here is visiting again, and you two meet. Only this time, he says ‘no’ and so you slip him a roofie. And then, well...”
Chuck has some oddly bashful moments that made Dean want to smirk. “Yeah, I know, I read the fucking script. But, that’s not me, man. I don’t wanna play some rapist asshole.”
“Come on,” Jimmy snorts. “Don’t tell me you have morals.”
The way he sneers at the word makes Dean feel sorry for him. “What if I do? What’s your problem? I’m all for sex between consenting adults, not,” he makes a gesture that doesn’t begin to cover his disgust at the idea of having sex with someone who didn’t agree to it. Even if it’s in a film.
“Is that it?” Jimmy puts down his glass, slides down from his chair and into Dean’s personal space. Like that Jimmy’s slightly taller than him and Dean can smell his cologne, something fresh and lightly spicy, like orange and caramel and musk. He can smell whiskey too, but it’s a combination that is strangely not off-putting. When Jimmy presses himself against Dean’s chest, he wants to move away, but all those scents make him a little dizzy. Jimmy’s eyes, dark and wild, make him dizzier. Jimmy’s hand, warm and tender on the back of his neck, makes him freeze. Jimmy is about to kiss him, licking his lips for a moment in an unmistakeable foreplay gesture, splaying his fingers to keep him in place. He’s going to kiss him, in front of fucking Chuck, in front of everyone, and he can’t move. God, what’s wrong with him? He’s not attracted to the guy; he’s not gay. He’s just…
Jimmy leans forward, until his forehead rests on Dean’s. “I consent,” he whispers, and he holds Dean firmly now. “I say yes. Fuck me, Dean.”
Dean couldn’t move if he tried. All he knows is that Jimmy really has the bluest eyes he’s ever seen, and the way he almost smiles is like an invitation for a kiss. “Fuck you,” he growls, as he pushes him away.
“That was the point, Dean,” Jimmy drawls, voice smooth as silk and low like whiskey, and moves back to his seat.
Chuck pours himself another drink, shaking his head as if he wants to commiserate with Dean. ‘See what I have to put up with?’ his eyes tell him.
For the first time since he’s known Chuck, Dean is inclined to agree with him. And when he pours himself a drink too, no one says a word.
&*&*
Despite Dean’s protest, the script doesn’t change. Worse, he suspects that the pill he put in Jimmy’s drink is the real thing. Thirty minutes later, and Jimmy has trouble taking his clothes off, eyes dull and blinking in an effort to keep awake. He glances at Chuck, who’s well into his second bottle by then, and Chuck tells him to do his job. So, he does.
Ten minutes after that, and Jimmy is naked and spread before him. He’s not asleep, but he’s definitely high. “You’re so beautiful,” he tells Dean in a voice full of reverence, reaching for him with a shaky hand. When Dean sits beside him, Jimmy smiles softly and dreamily, and he finally touches him. “So beautiful.”
This is not a chick-flick, damnit, and his character is supposed to be a bitter, rejected lover who had to resort to trickery to get what he wanted. He’s not supposed to be affected by Jimmy’s sudden, open smile, so sweet, so welcoming, so lovely. He’s not supposed to smile back, nor reach for Jimmy’s hand, and hold it lightly. He’s not supposed to say, “You’re not so bad-looking yourself,” with a voice that drops low for his lover’s sake.
“Great, great,” Chuck mutters impatiently. “Get on with it.”
Well, if Chuck says so…. Dean’s nothing if he’s not obedient to his director’s orders. “Come on,” he says and doesn’t know why he wants to call him ‘baby’, as if Jimmy’s one of his female co-stars, or worse, his girlfriend. He bites back the urge as he arranges Jimmy’s body so he can look at him in all his naked glory.
Not that it’s easy. Jimmy’s surprisingly and insistently grabby for a person in his condition. For every little, professional, strictly professional, touch of Dean’s, there are ten of Jimmy’s, all exploring and intimate. Dean can’t concentrate on his work, but after a few minutes of this he’s not sure if he cares any more. Because Jimmy’s caresses are as tender as his girlfriend’s, and his fingers land on unexpected places, uncovering erogenous zones and spots Dean never knew he had.
And all the while, Jimmy tells him he’s gorgeous, handsome, beautiful, in a voice that is wrecked and low and just for him. He wonders if the mike will catch a murmur only when it’s all done, as continuous as a heartbeat, as devout as a prayer. He wonders if this is why Chuck puts up with him and his outrageous, unprofessional behaviour, because if the camera manages to capture even one tenth of what he does to Dean, then it will all be worth it. He wonders why he lets himself sit there like an idiot, tracing slow patterns across Jimmy’s muscles, and following the veins on his arms and legs with careful fingers instead of being in control. It’s nothing to do with work and he doesn’t know how to stop it.
When he finally has enough of these almost-innocent touches that send sparks along his nerves, that soft gaze that is so full of desire, and those worshipful, flattering words, instead of taking charge, he presses Jimmy’s hands down on the mattress, and climbs over his body. Jimmy makes a delighted noise low in his throat, and gives him a smile of utter, blinding beauty as Dean discovers how well their bodies fit together.
He hasn’t done that much gay porn, contrary to what critics think, but he’s never been with someone who’s been almost the same height as he, and of such build that Dean didn’t feel too muscular or bulky. But Jimmy he can cover almost completely, and Jimmy can hold his weight perfectly. Jimmy’s toes rub playfully against his, as if it’s all a game. As if they’re fifteen, maybe, and this is the first time they’re together, sneaking away from parents on a sunny afternoon, or during a sleep-over. It’s all new and exciting and Jimmy shifts beneath him, looking happy, so fucking happy, Dean feels like they’re alone in the world, together at last.
Jimmy tilts his head to the side, and Dean’s attracted to that long line of tendon he can see, strong and vulnerable at the same time. When he licks it, the skin is soft. When he bites it, Jimmy thrusts against him, and their dicks slide into place together, two scorching pieces of steel pulled by the same magnet. Or would that be iron that’s attracted to magnet? There’s no time to think; Jimmy cups Dean’s ass and pushes him forward, as if he wants to drive Dean into his body, and Dean can’t think any more. All he can do is slide where Jimmy guides him, seeking heat and friction and more, more, more.
“Pull back if you’re gonna cum, damn it,” Chuck shouts. “You’re ruining my shot like that.”
Fuck; for a moment he’d forgotten this is work. Jimmy’s smile, hazy and lazy and sweet, tells him what he doesn’t need to know; Jimmy has no idea this is work. Jimmy’s eyelids fall, half-cover his eyes, these fucking gorgeous eyes of his, and Dean has to pull back, or he will forget this is work again. “Fuck me,” Jimmy breathes brokenly and Dean wants to oblige, he really does, but Jimmy looks so expectant, and his body is such a perfect cradle for Dean’s that he can’t.
He takes himself in his hand, wanting to press around the base and stop himself from coming, but for some reason, his hand can’t stop moving. Faster and faster his fingers go, and his balls rub against Jimmy’s, and feeling them hard and tight beneath their silken, fragile casing makes him feel powerful. He reaches for Jimmy’s cock and, fuck, yes, his dick is happy to meet his friend again.
“Goddamn it, babe, what you do to me,” he curses softly as his rhythm becomes more frantic.
Jimmy only moans in response, eyes half-closed, head thrown back, and he grabs Dean tightly, one hand still on Dean’s ass, but the other is now on the small of Dean’s back.
“Yes, yes, fuck, that’s it, babe. Come on, babe, cum for me, come on, yes, yes. Fuck.”
Jimmy holds on to him as he cums, and suddenly stares at Dean with perfect clarity. A moment’s perfect surprise is followed by perfect joy written all over his face. Now Dean feels all-powerful, the mightiest man on the world, the world too small for him, and his body burns and arches in the best way ever, cumming like this is his very first time, fumbling teenage enthusiasm giving way to adult knowledge in a single moment of light and fire.
He lets his head drop on Jimmy’s chest, lazily watching drops of sweat glisten on his pale skin. One seems trapped by a pink, raised nipple, and he doesn’t resist the temptation to lick it off. It’s salty - what else would it be? This is real - why wouldn’t it be?
“Ah, forget it,” Chuck announces, disgusted. Is he speaking to them? The crew? The world?
When he looks up, reaching for the towel that an obliging assistant hands him, he sees that Jimmy has fallen asleep. Is that why Chuck looked so angry? He was supposed to fuck him, wasn’t he? Whatever. He feels too good to care. “We can do it again later,” he suggests.
Chuck throws his hands up in the air. “Forget it.” He takes a swig straight from the bottle. “Jimmy’s out for the count and, knowing him, he won’t be in the mood for it for the next two days.”
“Since when do you care about moods?” He catches himself reaching for another sparkly drop, this one on the curve above Jimmy’s top lip, and he stops himself. He puts on a dressing gown more to give himself something to do than to cover his modesty.
“Jimmy’s a special case.” Chuck grimaces like he’s revealed too much, and for a guy who just can’t shut up, is a surprise. “This is officially a wrap for the day, guys.”
“Will you send me a copy of this? When it’s all edited and stuff?”
Chuck looks at him strangely.
He gets right into Chuck’s face. “I fucked up, Chuck, I know I did. I just want to see where I went wrong. Off-script.”
Chuck still looks like he doesn’t believe him, but he finally nods. “Fine. I’ll do it. Go take a shower, you stink. Why on earth did I get into this business? The hours are long, the pay is crap, I never have enough money on my budget and I never get to fuck anyone, people like you drive me to drinking in the middle of the day and…”
Dean tunes him out and goes to have a shower without looking at the way Jimmy is sleeping peacefully in the middle of the bed, sprawling with cum all over his body without any care in the world. Without looking much at him, that is.
When Chuck calls him two days later and tells him that they’ll keep the thing as it was and add it to the new compilation of ‘Hot Businessmen About Town’ they’re preparing, he doesn’t feel upset. Or annoyed. Or anything else for that matter. He feels nothing at all.
When Chuck sends him the edited DVD, for the first time in his life, he watches himself. Then he hides it someplace where Cassie won’t find it. And he still feels nothing.
&*&*
In retrospect, he should have known this would happen. But it had seemed like such a harmless little thing at first, so could he have ever imagined where it would lead? It had started with him watching himself with Jimmy. At least, the first time it had been him watching himself. The second time, it had been watching himself and jerking off at the sight. And so was the third and fourth.
Not that Dean was one of these people who got their freak-on recording and then re-watching themselves having sex. If he were one of them, he would have made home-movies with each and every-one of his girlfriends. His job and personal life were separate, damn it. It was what he’d always told them, and, well, if they liked it, then good for them. It was what he’d told Cassie, anyway.
But, he liked watching himself with Jimmy. He was discovering something new about himself every time he did it. The first time he saw the DVD, he’d been amazed at how surprised he looked. How from the start he’d gone out of character, and instead of being callous and inconsiderate, he’d been almost passive, waiting for Jimmy to give him cues on how and when to proceed. The second time, and the third, and the fourth, he remembered how well he and Jimmy had fitted together, and how obvious it was. He could imagine Chuck moving around them frantically trying to get the best angle and that’s why the result wasn’t a total failure. But instead of feeling amused, he’d become aroused. Jimmy had smelled nice, and he felt good. No harm there, right?
If only Cassie could understand that. “It’s not what it looks like,” he says helplessly, tucking himself in as quickly as possible. She’s early, damn it.
“Really?” She glances at the TV, where Dean is frantically jerking off. Like that, he can see Jimmy’s eyes, content and bright like a cat’s. No, Jimmy is all like a cat, basking in Dean’s desire. “Dean,” she says sharply.
Cassie looks mad and all he can feel is guilty and embarrassed. He wipes his hand, and turns the thing off.
“You told me. You promised me. Your work was one thing, your personal life another.”
“And it is, Cassie, it is. Look, Cass, this is…”
“Shut up.” She paces for a moment and when she sits down, she looked madder than before. “When did you start doing guys?”
“Er…”
“God, Dean, you think this is easy for me?”
“No, but I thought we had an understanding.”
“Yes, but you’d never mentioned men.” Cassie’s anger flares up for a moment. “It’s bad enough knowing what you do for a living, and sharing you with other women, but men too?”
“Cass, darling,” he starts but when he tries to hug her, she slips away from him. “Please, it doesn’t mean anything. It’s just a job, you know that. Gay sex pays better than straight sex, that’s all.”
Cassie shots him an aggravated look. “You wanna tell me you did it for us next? Dean, I just caught you jerking off to…” She shakes her head, her curls hiding her face for a moment. “No, Dean, you don’t get to lie to me any more.”
“Cassie.”
“We’re through.” She pushes him on the couch and stomps towards their bedroom. “We’re done.”
Fuck it, fuck it, fuck.
While Cassie packs he busies himself in the kitchen. When he hears her come out, he tries to talk to her, but she looks at him so broken-hearted, eyes all red and puffy, that he can’t bring himself to say anything. The floor has never been more interesting, and when she closes the door behind her, he doesn’t know what to do with himself.
For a while he studies the DVD cover. It’s not like it’s Jimmy’s fault Cassie broke up with him, but Jimmy can probably make him feel better. Yes, it’s all an act on Jimmy’s part, the way he looks all loving and sweet, as if there’s something going on between them, but he’d take an hour of fake love under the cameras rather than call a hooker, or stay alone for a while. It’s wrong and unprofessional and a shitty thing to do, but he needs someone to lie to him, and he can’t think of a better liar than Jimmy at that moment.
“Chuck, you have to arrange something between me and Jimmy. Fast.”
“What? Who’s that? Dean? Are you drunk? What on earth are you talking about?”
“You heard me. I want you to make a film. With me and Jimmy. Now.”
“Dean, this is not how it works.” Chuck says. “You know tha…”
He cuts him off. “No, Chuck. You listen to me. When have I ever said ‘no’ when you called me? And, Chuck, you call me, not my agent, remember? So, did I ever tell you I was busy, or not feeling like it, or whatever?”
“No, b..”
“No buts, buddy. You owe me. Whenever you asked, I came through for you, didn’t I? And the first time I ask something, you want to screw me over? It doesn’t work like that, Chuck.”
“Dean, listen to me, it really isn’t…”
“No, you listen. I want you to arrange things. As soon as possible.”
“I won’t, I can’t do that,” Chuck protests, but Dean knows he’s winning. Chuck already sounds resigned.
“Yes, you can, because you’re Chuck Edlund, director of AV extraordinaire, and no one says ‘no’ to you. You hear me? You can do this, Chuck.”
“Oh, man. Ca... Jimmy’s gonna kill me.”
“Yes, you can,” Dean sing-songs as he hangs up. He knows Chuck won’t let him down.
&*&*
It takes Chuck a few days to arrange things and Dean feels justifiably smug and annoyed. Someone like Chuck shoots a film a day, maybe every two days if he has more money to spend, and yet it took him almost a week to arrange something for him? Six days during which Dean was sulking and miserable and wondering if maybe he’d been wrong about Cassie in the first place, if maybe she wasn’t the one for him, if she couldn’t handle his work. But, damn, no one had made him feel like she had. There were times in the middle of the night, when she burrowed into his arms and her breath was like sweet music, that he actually thought she was the one for him. And to think he’d even considered introducing her to Sammy. Damn.
But at least Chuck has come through for him, and he hasn’t felt so eager about doing a gig in … no, he’s never felt that eager. But that nervousness he had felt, way back when he was first starting his career. Logically, he knows there’s nothing to be afraid of. But he also knows that he’s basically going to use Jimmy to feel good, and that’s not fair.
Well, tough; he needs this more than anything else. And if Jimmy has no idea, then there’s no harm done.
“Where’s Chuck?” he asks when he arrives at the set, a house on a quiet, suburban neighbourhood that looks perfectly respectable on the outside, and just as respectable on the inside. Furniture that matches the rugs and the curtains, modern paintings, but not outrageously so, on the walls, a couple of real pretty lamps in the living room.
“Calming the beast,” Ruby tells him.
“What?”
“Upstairs, in the bathroom,” she explains, and makes a bubble with her chewing gum that is twice as big as her mouth. “I wouldn’t go there if I were you,” she adds.
It’s already too late. Dean’s climbing the stairs two at the time and when he reaches the upper floor, he looks for the first closed door. As he walks, he sees the bedroom, and fuck, the covers are exactly the same ones Cassie had wanted to buy for their bed, dark brown with a pattern of autumn leaves, red and yellow and russet. Damn.
He passes the study and, thank god, the next door is the bathroom. But as he’s about to knock and make his presence known so they can fucking start already, he hears Jimmy, and, damn, he sounds wrecked. In a bad way.
“Fucking businessman of the year. Can you believe that?”
Chuck must be making soothing noises, nodding, because there’s a moment’s silence. “How did you find out?”
“Raphael sent me the article.”
“Oh.” Chuck must surely be running his hands through his hair now. “Well, I always thought your brother was a bit of an asshole.”
“Hmm.” The noise that follows that is a retching sound. Dean wants to leave, Jimmy throwing up in there makes him feel uncomfortable, but at the same time he’s curious.
“Damn it,” Jimmy says, sounding even worse than before. “I’m not in the mood for this. Not today, Chuck. Please.”
“But we have everything set up,” Chuck says reasonably. “By the time I can get someone to cover you, I’ll have lost most of the day. Come on,” he says, and he’s definitely wheedling him now, “it will be fun. Your favourite kind of script: lovers meeting again after a while. And did I tell you who else will be here? Dean. You remember Dean. You like Dean.”
“Hm.”
“Please? Who cares about that fucking asshole? Or that asshole of a brother of yours? We have a film to do and Dean must be here already. Come on, brush your teeth and, fuck, do you have to drink now? You just threw up, man. This is not good for you.”
“I don’t care,” Jimmy says as sullenly as a five-year-old who’s just had his favourite toy taken away.
“But I do.”
Jimmy snorts and Dean can’t take it any more. He knocks on the door. “Hey, princess, you there?”
“Go away,” Jimmy tells him, trying to sound authoritative and failing miserably.
“Dean, wait, we’ll be right down,” Chuck says at the same time. “Just give us a minute.”
“No, go away, I’m not coming down. I’m not doing anything.”
“Jimmy,” Chuck whines.
Dean opens the door. “You’re such a fucking cliché,” he says the moment he sees Jimmy kneeling by the toilet bowl, like he’s a drug addict or something. Which he probably is, if he’s not an alcoholic, but Dean tries not to think about that too much. He avoids Chuck’s gaze; he’s perched on the bathtub edge like a bird watching over his nest. “I thought you were a pro.”
“Not everyone can be like you.”
Now, that’s ironic. If he really were professional, he wouldn’t have asked Chuck to arrange this for him. And the way Chuck looks up shows that Chuck has exactly the same thought. “What can I say? It’s a talent. Get up.”
“No, I want to stay here and continue being a fucking cliché, thank you very much.” Jimmy’s eyes are blazing, the coldest, iciest fire he’s ever seen.
“Why? Because you want to sit there and mope about whatever happened in Bumfuck, Fuck-All when you little?”
Chuck shrugs when Jimmy looks at him, incredulous. Then Jimmy stands up. “You have no right to talk to me like that. You don’t know anything about me.”
“What I know is what I see. A grown-up man who can’t deal with his responsibilities, and who prefers drinking to facing his problems.”
Chuck nods while Jimmy keeps staring, like the world’s most stunned goldfish.
Dean wants to kiss him so badly he hurts - and he has no idea where the thought came from. “Don’t do that,” he says to Chuck instead. “Nod as if you agree with me. You obviously enable his behaviour.”
“I don’t.”
“You do,” both Dean and Jimmy say. The next moment Jimmy looks away. The sudden color on his cheeks speaks of embarrassment, the glare directed at the floor betrays anger, and Dean wants to make him smile so much. “Can we get on with the show now?”
“If you think I’m doing this sober, you’re mistaken,” Jimmy tells him as he picks up the bottle. “I don’t need to be sober for you to fuck me,” he continues, voice full of venom.
“You sure? You might enjoy it more.” Dean realises he’s giving Jimmy his most seductive smile but doesn’t stop. He wants this.
“I doubt it,” Jimmy says and his eyes are dead. “Fine, let’s do this.” He pushes Dean aside and takes a swig right as he passes in front of him. Then he sticks his tongue out.
Chuck runs behind Jimmy, shaking his head like he wants to forget everything. But Dean doesn’t. He hates that Jimmy is messed-up; he hates that he has to drink before he can face him. He wants…
Oh, screw it. He doesn’t want anything. He came here to do his job; that’s all he wants. All he cares about.
&*&*
The smell of alcohol masks that of vomit well, but when he’s standing right behind Jimmy, hugging him, whispering sultrily in his ear, “Did you start the party without me?” exactly as the script demanded, it doesn’t do such a good job. For a moment, as Jimmy turns around and stares at him almost shyly, he’s scared that Jimmy will kiss him, but then Jimmy moves away and falls on the bed.
“I did, love. What you gonna do about it? Punish me?”
It seems like it’s Jimmy’s turn to ignore the script. Ruby makes a gagging notion from across the room. Usually, she’s a professional, but she’s not acting like that today. Dean smirks. “What if I do,” he says as he kneels between Jimmy’s legs, spreading them apart as he moves forward. “Will you protest? Fight me?”
Jimmy raises both hands and wraps them behind Dean’s neck. It’s like being tied with a warm, heavy fabric, and he can’t raise his head any more. He can only stare down, at Jimmy licking his lips as if he wants to kiss him again. ‘Of course not,’ and ‘don’t be stupid,’ his eyes say. “I’m yours,” he says simply instead, seriously, and fuck if that isn’t the sexiest thing Dean’s ever heard. “Do what you will with me.”
No, that’s the sexiest thing he’s ever heard and fuck if he has any idea who might buy this film when it’s all done, because that’s not a porn line. But it’s a sexy one. A real one. He leans down, and kisses Jimmy and Jimmy freezes beneath him, his hands lock, hard and heavy over Dean’s nape, his mouth stays closed.
When it opens, it is to scream: “Cut.”
“What now?” Dean sits up, and can’t decide if he wants to glare at Chuck for obeying Jimmy’s order, or Jimmy for spoiling things just as they had started to get good.
“Kissing, kissing,” Jimmy shouts, jabbing his finger on Dean’s chest, right where his heart beats. “There’s a no-kissing clause in my contract.”
“Really? Well, maybe you should be grateful someone wanted to kiss you instead of screaming bloody murder. Your mouth stinks.”
“You didn’t mind a moment ago,” Jimmy reminds him with a sneer.
He’s about to protest when Chuck starts shouting too. “Damn, damn, damn. This is really bad for my health, you hear me?” He pauses long enough to drink. “You,” he points at Dean, “no kissing. You, no… whatever. God, haven’t we wasted enough time already?”
“We’re shooting a porn film,” Jimmy says helpfully before Dean can make exactly the same point. “Not Russian Ark.”
“Hey, you watched that?”
Jimmy raises an eyebrow. ‘I’m not stupid,’ he tells him without words.
“I loved that film.” Jimmy’s gone a step further from his stunned goldfish impression, tilting his head to the side like a really curious bird, and Dean can’t shut up. “Best depiction of modern Russian history I’ve ever seen.” He doesn’t say he only went to see it because he was curious about a film shot in one go, nor that he didn’t expect to like it as much as he did.
Jimmy nods a little.
“My thoughts exactly. But on the whole, fantastic. And that scene where…” That’s when he realises that even though Jimmy seems entranced and interested, everyone else has fallen silent and watches him with horrified interest. And Chuck? He looks like’s he’s about to have an aneurysm. “Maybe we can talk about that later?”
“Thank fuck for that,” Chuck mutters, and Dean notices that he’s already drunk one third of the bottle. Perhaps he and Jimmy have their own Alcoholics Anonymous club, and enable each other. “Places, everyone. Three, two, one.”
Because they know Chuck can be exacting when he wants to, they start from the start: Jimmy standing up, a porn magazine on his hands that he studies with fake interest, Dean approaching from behind. Jimmy’s back looks so lonely, and it’s such a weird thing to feel, but that’s how it is. “Did you start the party without me?” he asks again, and this time he stays back, because he still wants to kiss Jimmy.
Jimmy turns around, looking down teasingly. “Maybe.” His finger traces Dean’s hipbone, feather-light, tempting. It rests on the base of Dean’s shaft and then Jimmy looks up again. “But what’s your excuse?”
The ability to maintain an erection under lights and people and follow directions such as ‘lift your leg’ and ‘move your hand’ is what makes Dean a good actor, but playing with Jimmy he’s discovered that he also has a new ability. That of getting fully hard without much help. He used to read skin mags or watch stuff, but now, all it takes is Jimmy’s touch. “Do I need an excuse when I have you?”
It must be the right thing to say even though it’s not scripted, because Jimmy smiles delighted and pulls him down on the bed. They tumble in a blur of limbs that’s probably hell to film, but he doesn’t care, because Jimmy is pressed tightly against him, and has Dean trapped with arms and legs and, damn, he’s flexible. Dean thrusts lazily within his bonds, and Jimmy closes his eyes and nuzzles him, and it’s like waking up next to Cassie, Sunday morning, almost noon, and there’s leftover pizza and pie for breakfast and they don’t have to move.
When Jimmy finally lets him go, and turns around, offering himself, Dean has trouble breathing. Jimmy’s beautiful like this, against these dark covers spread with leaves. His skin is pale and luminous and Dean feels like he’s about to take some forest creature, something wild and not exactly human, that stopped mid-flight and fell in Dean’s arms, and is showing him trust. His hands shake as he reaches for the lube, and when he sees that there’s also lotion on the bedside table, he takes that.
Jimmy’s skin warms under his fingers as he massages the liquid on the small of his back, his buttocks, his thighs. It takes on a warm glow under the lights, and Jimmy makes tiny, content noises that make Dean happy. Jimmy’s a good liar, and Cassie used to lie like that beneath him, and god, he misses her. He wishes this were real. That this was Cassie, or maybe a non-drunk Jimmy. Someone who’d really love him, and let him love them. That’s all he wants, and his hands shake again.
They could have had these bedcovers, and Cassie would have looked black and beautiful against them, a force of nature tamed by his hand. Her hair would curl around his fingers as he would pull her in for a kiss. In the last moment he’d change his mind, and kiss her neck, and it would be soft and warm and smelling like sleep and sunlight and time stopped. “God, I want you so much, so fucking much.”
And Cassie would spread her legs, just like that, and his finger would slide inside her most secret place, and she would arch and moan in the pillow. Just like that. “Yes, babe, you feel so good, now let me make you feel good too,” and he’d twist his finger inside her tight warmth until she pushed back. Only then would he add more lotion, and another finger, and he’d start teasing her again.
“Yes, Cass, open up for me, yes, babe, like that, let me, oh, Cass.” But that’s not Cassie, and he realises he’s whispering in Jimmy’s ear things he never told Cassie when Jimmy freezes again beneath him. But Chuck will kill him if he stops again. Will kill them both. Jimmy glances at him, shocked, and Dean leans down to press an almost-kiss at the side of his mouth. “Sorry,” he murmurs against skin that’s gone cold. “Won’t do it again.”
“It’s okay,” Jimmy whispers back.
He still looks so shocked, still feels so cold, that Dean really wants to kiss him, lick away the terror that lingers in the corners of his mouth, warm the fragile skin of his lips. He slides back and kisses his nape, and, keeping his eyes open, he starts preparing Jimmy again. Has Jimmy just started shivering or didn’t he notice with his hands shaking and his eyes closed? “It’s okay,” he says soothingly, and tries to remember what the fuck was the script about, because this is all new and frightening.
Jimmy nods, and Dean feels something in him uncoil and relax. “Yes, it’s all okay now,” he smiles, and kisses Jimmy again. And is rewarded with a smile, and a soft, tentative motion. When Dean stills, Jimmy nuzzles him, and shudders beneath him, not in fear, not in shock, not surprise, but pleasure. Dean can proceed.
His dick nestles in the space between Jimmy’s balls and the sheets and he can’t decide if he prefers the warm smoothness of flesh, or the cool crispness of fabric. He thrusts helplessly, eager to sink himself into the impossible heat his fingers have just encountered, his fingers are still trying to relax and claim, and can’t wait. But wait he must, until Jimmy is thoroughly slick and open, until Jimmy tells him, lets him know that it’s okay to move.
And when he does, Dean presses himself inside, slowly and carefully, until Jimmy rises up and meets him half-thrust, impatient and careless and as eager as Dean. If he was waiting for a signal, this is it. He steadies himself with one hand on Jimmy’s waist, keeps the other on his side, and puts down one leg, mindful of the camera for a moment and then, he lets himself go. He shuts his eyes, and forgets everything around but Jimmy.
Jimmy is all there is. His hot, tight ass, made just for Dean to fuck. His narrow hips, made just for Dean to hold. His soft skin, made just for Dean to slide against. When Dean moves away, Jimmy follows, and never lets him slip out of his body. When Dean pushes forward, Jimmy is even more insistent, letting Dean know that whatever he does, Jimmy can take it.
“Impatient much?” He laughs as he slows down.
“Yes, yes, please. Fuck me. I need. I…” Jimmy lowers his head, and his voice is dropping too. “Please. I want this. So much. Fuck me. Harder. Please.” The last word is drawn out, as if Jimmy opens up to him more than his body.
“No.”
“No?” Jimmy twists and stares at him. “No?” he says so imperiously and irritated, a spoiled child denied.
“No,” he laughs again and, holding Jimmy still, slows even more. It is a hardship; Jimmy’s really made for him. More than anyone he’s slept with during his career. Perhaps Jimmy fits him as well as Cassie; two sides of the same coin, or something like that, male and female, white and black, fair and dark. Beautiful. And he doesn’t want this to end. It’s so beautiful.
“Please?” Jimmy whines beautifully. He wiggles and shimmies and Dean bites his lips. “You’re mean. You leave me, you interrupt my party, and now you refuse to fuck me.” His voice breaks, and he falls on his elbows, changing the angle of entry. It’s also easier to stare back at Dean like that. “Fuck me, my love. Haven’t I waited enough?”
Like that, Dean can believe that Jimmy has been waiting for him all his life, spread open and eager and ready, all made for Dean, all for the taking. He looks at him like Dean is the answer to all his prayers, his true love, his only love. How on earth can Dean deny him? “Yes, yes, you’re right, babe, forgive me, let me. Let me show you how much I love you. Oh, god, yes, you’re so perfect. Feel this? I want to fuck you so hard you’ll feel me for days. When I’m gone, you’ll still feel this, burning you inside, and it will hurt so good, you won’t regret a thing. Do you feel this?”
“Yes, I do. God, it burns. Harder, love, harder. Faster. Make me hurt, mark me, I’m yours, all yours, fuck me so I don’t want another, now, please, harder. Fuck me. Fuck.”
Jimmy collapses as he cums, his climax robbing him of words, and Dean follows him, his orgasm ripping through him. He’s falling on Jimmy’s back, waiting for Jimmy to support him, as Jimmy does. He breathes Jimmy’s lotion-slicked skin, the sharp scent of sex, feels Jimmy cooling down, and rests his hand on skin that’s still covered in a fine sheet of sweat, glistening in the lights. “Hey,” he says lazily, fighting sleepiness.
“Hey yourself,” Jimmy says, just as lazy, just as hazy, just as happy as Dean. He even smiles at him.
For the longest time, Dean stares at him, and Jimmy stares back. The guy has long lashes, and his gaze is curious, and calm. Makes Dean think of a statue, or maybe a painting. Something strange and valuable. “You don’t look like a Jimmy,” he says, thought coming out of nowhere.
Jimmy snorts. Before he can answer, Chuck shouts. “Will you get up already? We’re still on a schedule. This house is rented by the hour, so the sooner we’re out, the better. Up, up.”
Dean slides off Jimmy reluctantly. The moment he’s up, Jimmy jumps out of the bed. “You can clean yourself in the kitchen,” he tells him haughtily as he runs upstairs, obviously towards the bathroom.
“Damn.”
Chuck grins and then pretends not to. “At least he didn’t hit you with anything. That’s something.”
“Thank god for small mercies.”
“Amen to that. The kitchen is there, by the way.”
Words can’t express his indignation, but it could be worse. Though, at the moment, he can’t imagine what that might be.
Author: Olympia
Rating: NC-17
Genre, Pairing: AU, Dean/Castiel
Warnings: first the spoilery onesfor mentions of child abuse, drug and alcohol abuse ; non-spoilery: for using the characters in inappropriate ways
Disclaimers: they all apply; the characters are not mine, I'm just messing with them for fun :)
Word Count: ca 29.400
Summary: Dean (awesome, funny, but mainly HOT) realises there are more things in life than pron when he meets his new partner (the man usually known as Jimmy, cultured, messed-up, and equally HOT) - or, SPN, the AV version
Chuck is a good guy, bless his soul, but he can’t keep his mouth shut. Two minutes since Dean walked into the set and he’s already getting a headache.
“Got it?” Chuck asks and takes a deep breath, probably getting ready for his next monologue.
“Yeah, yeah, I pick up this guy and then we fuck. It’s a porn film, Chuck, not the Odyssey.”
Chuck’s surprise is short-lived. “Yeah, well, aren’t you the clever one? But this is important, Dean.” And there he goes on and on again about his character’s motivation and all that shit.
Not that Dean doesn’t get how important that is; it may be a porn film, but he has some standards. He doesn’t want to do something he wouldn’t watch - if he ever watched himself afterwards, that is. But what kind of a motivation can his character have when he’s supposed to be picking up a random guy for sex? Chuck makes him laugh.
“And here’s your partner, James Dick.”
Dean snorts, and the guy smirks. “Everyone calls me Jimmy,” he says, giving Dean his hand.
He’s a bit old, in his early thirties in real life, which means he’s almost sixty in porn years. Not that Dean cares; as long as the guy doesn’t give him any trouble, he’s fine with that. “Dean Smith.”
“I know. I’ve seen your work.” Jimmy grins, glances at Dean’s groin for a second, and it makes Dean uncomfortable.
“Great, great,” Chuck starts again, all nervous energy. “Can we start now? Take your places.”
The first scene takes place in a bar. There are a couple of extras just to make the setting more believable, and Dean takes a deep breath. He leans casually on the counter and lets his gaze roam, the way he’d do in a real bar, until he settles on Jimmy. According to the script, Jimmy’s character is a businessman visiting this town for, well, business. Dean smirks, orders a drink for Jimmy and the moment the bartender has left the drink in front of him, he makes his move.
“Do you come here often?”
Jimmy gives him a look that is neither heated nor sultry and-- if this was real, if this was him and Jimmy someone he’d just met, he’d probably never bother further. But then Jimmy dips his finger in his drink, traces his lips before licking it, and Dean feels arousal that has nothing to do with the pay-check waiting for him at the end of this job. This wasn’t in the script.
“Well?”
“No.”
Jimmy sips his drink and that close Dean smells it. Real whiskey, not coloured water. What the fuck? And now Jimmy gives him the ‘come hither’ look, and, damn, it is hot. What was his line? Damn.
“Cut,” Chuck shouts. “What’s wrong with you? Stop staring at each other. Dean, you’re supposed to ask if this is Jimmy’s first time here. Jimmy, you’re supposed to say that it is. Gah!” Chuck runs his hands through his hair in utter frustration, making it even more messy than usual. “Start again. Now.”
&*&*
Since this is a porn film and not the Odyssey, the next scene is immediately afterwards. Set in a non-descript motel room, at the start he’s supposed to be sitting down fully dressed while Jimmy takes off his clothes. Unlike him, dressed in jeans and a tee-shirt, Jimmy is in full businessman mode, with a tan trench coat over a dark blue suit, and the bastard takes his time. Dean cups himself gently, teasing his dick over the fabric, watching as Jimmy takes off one layer at the time, and even places each garment carefully on top of the other. If this was real life… He’d probably never have picked the guy up, since he’s not gay. But if it was a woman there, slowly undressing herself, looking at him shyly behind long, dark lashes with her huge blue eyes, oh, yeah, he’d totally get into that.
When Jimmy finally reveals himself, Dean whistles, even though that wasn’t in the script either. The guy’s not bad-looking. Sure, he has a sweet, innocent-looking face, but he also has the body to match, slender and finely muscled. Naked, he looks younger. “Come here,” he says, in low, gruff tone that is not scripted either.
Jimmy falls to his knees and approaches him crawling slowly, staring at him. Not at his dick; at his eyes. It makes Dean feel weird. Jimmy’s gaze is hot and heavy, and when he licks his lips, his mouth shines dark pink. He’d bet anything that Jimmy’s lips are natural, and yet they look so plump and full he wonders how they could be.
He’s not gay, damn it. But this lust that makes his cock harden is not because he imagines that’s a busty Asian beauty on her knees before him. And when Jimmy nuzzles him, his dick jumps excitedly. It almost gets caught in the zipper when Jimmy starts lowering it with his fucking teeth, still staring up at him with eyes wide, his pupils huge, like deep, black pools of liquid fire. Dean’s scared he’ll drown there, but his dick doesn’t care about a thing.
“Oh,” Jimmy whispers as he kisses the head, his hands warm and reverent wrapped around the shaft.
“You can do better than that,” he whispers. For a moment he places his hand on Jimmy’s head, feeling hair so fucking soft, he wants to pet it. He ends up tracing his fingers down Jimmy’s forehead, over smooth skin and hard bones, and rests his hand on Jimmy’s nape when Jimmy opens his mouth and shows him what he can do with it.
Dean’s been doing this thing for quite some time, and most of the time, it’s a simple thing. In and out, suck, swallow. He’s used to women who prefer to jerk him off and play with the top of his head, intimidated by the size of his dick. He’s used to guys who open their mouths wide and try to take as much of him as possible. He’s used to being stared at longingly while being massaged. He’s used to everything.
But he’s not used to someone looking at him like he’s the best thing that ever happened to them, mouth perfectly open, throat perfectly tight, going down on him like they’ll die if they don’t take him in.
“Yes, yes, that’s it,” he hears himself say. “Good boy, yes. Let me fuck that pretty mouth of yours, open up for me. Yes, yes, that’s it,” he says when Jimmy’s nose presses on his pubic hair. Jimmy still looks at him, unconcerned that Dean’s cutting off his air supply, and god, this is the best thing ever, Jimmy making small, muffled noises in the back of his throat, and his breath is hot on his skin, little puffs of air that burn, burn, burn.
Jimmy pulls back slowly, and Dean feels like Jimmy’s kissing him with every backwards drag of his lips. “Oh, yes, fuck that’s good. Do it again.”
Jimmy laughs, he honest-to-god laughs, and the vibrations, the air, the sound, the amusement, travel all the way from Jimmy’s throat to the centre of his being through his dick. He’s supposed to be a pro, but he won’t last long. But the way Chuck nods, and moves his hands enthusiastically for the cameras to keep rolling, maybe that’s not a bad thing.
Jimmy obeys him and his mouth feels tighter and warmer now. His hands are also busy, one playing lightly with his balls, and the other stroking him firmly at the base of the shaft. “I’m gonna cum,” he says as his balls tighten impossibly at the sudden sensation of being completely engulfed without any warning except the twinkle in Jimmy’s eyes.
A tight fist holds him back, and for the next few minutes Dean feels like he’s there just for Jimmy’s pleasure. Jimmy does whatever he wants to him, playing him like an expert with his hands and his mouth. All he can do is hold on, one hand on Jimmy’s nape, one supporting his weight on the bed, and pray that Chuck is getting all of this, because he won’t survive a second round of this. Not on the same day.
Damn it, the guy is insatiable. He knows a good pro is supposed to look hungry for it, but there’s something about the way Jimmy does it, that makes him think that, yeah, anyone watching this would think this is the real deal. A stranger you’ve met on a bar and turns out to be someone who wants to love you, generously and without any strings attached. Fuck; if he weren’t so busy getting blown away, he’d get a little carried away. Not even his girlfriend looks at him like that.
“I’m…”
This time, Jimmy takes mercy on him. He pulls back for the cum shot, and if he looked good before, with his pretty, full lips wrapped around his dick, he looks even better now, with his cheeks flushed and his lips looking, well, well-fucked, and his skin stained with Dean’s cum, shinier shades of white on Jimmy’s pale face. When Jimmy licks his lower lip for a moment, tentatively, almost innocently trying it for flavor, Dean can’t help himself. He spreads his seed on Jimmy’s face, marking him. And Jimmy blinks at him, as if he’s in love, and loves it.
“Great, great, that’s a wrap,” Chuck shouts, and he sounds happy for a change. “Perfect. God, will you stop staring at each other?”
Dean laughs, awkward and ashamed.
But it’s Jimmy, who stands up carefully, taking a towel from a girl to wipe his face, that brings Dean down to earth. “Happy now?” He asks sourly and doesn’t wait for an answer as he moves towards the dressing room. “Great.”
Chuck takes two steps and then stops. “Er, he’s a bit… That was great,” he says again, obviously deciding not to explain anything to Dean. “You were great. Didn’t I promise you this would be the easiest thing you’d ever done? Wasn’t it? I knew you and Jimmy would be a great pair.”
Dean ignores him as Chuck continues like that for what seems an hour. He’s a pro; he’s not a goddamn amateur to care about what his fuck partner does or not. Screw this noise. He’s out of there.
&*&*
“I’m so glad you agreed to do this,” Chuck starts as he shakes Dean’s hand furiously. “You wouldn’t believe how glad I am. The first movie sold exceptionally well, so a sequel was bound to happen, eh? What do you think?”
“Hm.”
“Great, huh?” Chuck smiles like a madman, but the moment they walk into the set, his grin falters. “Ah, and there’s Jimmy. In character, I see,” and he sounds resigned and angry for a moment. Then he smiles again, a smile that is as fake as the bar they just walked into.
Jimmy’s wearing similar clothes to last time, and he’s already nursing a drink. Dean tries not to notice how slender his fingers are, and yet how competently they are wrapped around the glass, and is tempted to bet that the drink there is real again. “Eh, hi,” he says as he’s pushed next to him.
“Hello.” Jimmy looks at him for a moment and then goes back to his drink.
“How very professional,” Dean mutters under his breath.
“You bet,” Jimmy whispers right back, and glances at him from under long lashes.
Chuck pours himself a glass and downs it like a man dying of thirst. “Now that that’s settled,” he says, looking even more frazzled, “the plot is simple. Jimmy here is visiting again, and you two meet. Only this time, he says ‘no’ and so you slip him a roofie. And then, well...”
Chuck has some oddly bashful moments that made Dean want to smirk. “Yeah, I know, I read the fucking script. But, that’s not me, man. I don’t wanna play some rapist asshole.”
“Come on,” Jimmy snorts. “Don’t tell me you have morals.”
The way he sneers at the word makes Dean feel sorry for him. “What if I do? What’s your problem? I’m all for sex between consenting adults, not,” he makes a gesture that doesn’t begin to cover his disgust at the idea of having sex with someone who didn’t agree to it. Even if it’s in a film.
“Is that it?” Jimmy puts down his glass, slides down from his chair and into Dean’s personal space. Like that Jimmy’s slightly taller than him and Dean can smell his cologne, something fresh and lightly spicy, like orange and caramel and musk. He can smell whiskey too, but it’s a combination that is strangely not off-putting. When Jimmy presses himself against Dean’s chest, he wants to move away, but all those scents make him a little dizzy. Jimmy’s eyes, dark and wild, make him dizzier. Jimmy’s hand, warm and tender on the back of his neck, makes him freeze. Jimmy is about to kiss him, licking his lips for a moment in an unmistakeable foreplay gesture, splaying his fingers to keep him in place. He’s going to kiss him, in front of fucking Chuck, in front of everyone, and he can’t move. God, what’s wrong with him? He’s not attracted to the guy; he’s not gay. He’s just…
Jimmy leans forward, until his forehead rests on Dean’s. “I consent,” he whispers, and he holds Dean firmly now. “I say yes. Fuck me, Dean.”
Dean couldn’t move if he tried. All he knows is that Jimmy really has the bluest eyes he’s ever seen, and the way he almost smiles is like an invitation for a kiss. “Fuck you,” he growls, as he pushes him away.
“That was the point, Dean,” Jimmy drawls, voice smooth as silk and low like whiskey, and moves back to his seat.
Chuck pours himself another drink, shaking his head as if he wants to commiserate with Dean. ‘See what I have to put up with?’ his eyes tell him.
For the first time since he’s known Chuck, Dean is inclined to agree with him. And when he pours himself a drink too, no one says a word.
&*&*
Despite Dean’s protest, the script doesn’t change. Worse, he suspects that the pill he put in Jimmy’s drink is the real thing. Thirty minutes later, and Jimmy has trouble taking his clothes off, eyes dull and blinking in an effort to keep awake. He glances at Chuck, who’s well into his second bottle by then, and Chuck tells him to do his job. So, he does.
Ten minutes after that, and Jimmy is naked and spread before him. He’s not asleep, but he’s definitely high. “You’re so beautiful,” he tells Dean in a voice full of reverence, reaching for him with a shaky hand. When Dean sits beside him, Jimmy smiles softly and dreamily, and he finally touches him. “So beautiful.”
This is not a chick-flick, damnit, and his character is supposed to be a bitter, rejected lover who had to resort to trickery to get what he wanted. He’s not supposed to be affected by Jimmy’s sudden, open smile, so sweet, so welcoming, so lovely. He’s not supposed to smile back, nor reach for Jimmy’s hand, and hold it lightly. He’s not supposed to say, “You’re not so bad-looking yourself,” with a voice that drops low for his lover’s sake.
“Great, great,” Chuck mutters impatiently. “Get on with it.”
Well, if Chuck says so…. Dean’s nothing if he’s not obedient to his director’s orders. “Come on,” he says and doesn’t know why he wants to call him ‘baby’, as if Jimmy’s one of his female co-stars, or worse, his girlfriend. He bites back the urge as he arranges Jimmy’s body so he can look at him in all his naked glory.
Not that it’s easy. Jimmy’s surprisingly and insistently grabby for a person in his condition. For every little, professional, strictly professional, touch of Dean’s, there are ten of Jimmy’s, all exploring and intimate. Dean can’t concentrate on his work, but after a few minutes of this he’s not sure if he cares any more. Because Jimmy’s caresses are as tender as his girlfriend’s, and his fingers land on unexpected places, uncovering erogenous zones and spots Dean never knew he had.
And all the while, Jimmy tells him he’s gorgeous, handsome, beautiful, in a voice that is wrecked and low and just for him. He wonders if the mike will catch a murmur only when it’s all done, as continuous as a heartbeat, as devout as a prayer. He wonders if this is why Chuck puts up with him and his outrageous, unprofessional behaviour, because if the camera manages to capture even one tenth of what he does to Dean, then it will all be worth it. He wonders why he lets himself sit there like an idiot, tracing slow patterns across Jimmy’s muscles, and following the veins on his arms and legs with careful fingers instead of being in control. It’s nothing to do with work and he doesn’t know how to stop it.
When he finally has enough of these almost-innocent touches that send sparks along his nerves, that soft gaze that is so full of desire, and those worshipful, flattering words, instead of taking charge, he presses Jimmy’s hands down on the mattress, and climbs over his body. Jimmy makes a delighted noise low in his throat, and gives him a smile of utter, blinding beauty as Dean discovers how well their bodies fit together.
He hasn’t done that much gay porn, contrary to what critics think, but he’s never been with someone who’s been almost the same height as he, and of such build that Dean didn’t feel too muscular or bulky. But Jimmy he can cover almost completely, and Jimmy can hold his weight perfectly. Jimmy’s toes rub playfully against his, as if it’s all a game. As if they’re fifteen, maybe, and this is the first time they’re together, sneaking away from parents on a sunny afternoon, or during a sleep-over. It’s all new and exciting and Jimmy shifts beneath him, looking happy, so fucking happy, Dean feels like they’re alone in the world, together at last.
Jimmy tilts his head to the side, and Dean’s attracted to that long line of tendon he can see, strong and vulnerable at the same time. When he licks it, the skin is soft. When he bites it, Jimmy thrusts against him, and their dicks slide into place together, two scorching pieces of steel pulled by the same magnet. Or would that be iron that’s attracted to magnet? There’s no time to think; Jimmy cups Dean’s ass and pushes him forward, as if he wants to drive Dean into his body, and Dean can’t think any more. All he can do is slide where Jimmy guides him, seeking heat and friction and more, more, more.
“Pull back if you’re gonna cum, damn it,” Chuck shouts. “You’re ruining my shot like that.”
Fuck; for a moment he’d forgotten this is work. Jimmy’s smile, hazy and lazy and sweet, tells him what he doesn’t need to know; Jimmy has no idea this is work. Jimmy’s eyelids fall, half-cover his eyes, these fucking gorgeous eyes of his, and Dean has to pull back, or he will forget this is work again. “Fuck me,” Jimmy breathes brokenly and Dean wants to oblige, he really does, but Jimmy looks so expectant, and his body is such a perfect cradle for Dean’s that he can’t.
He takes himself in his hand, wanting to press around the base and stop himself from coming, but for some reason, his hand can’t stop moving. Faster and faster his fingers go, and his balls rub against Jimmy’s, and feeling them hard and tight beneath their silken, fragile casing makes him feel powerful. He reaches for Jimmy’s cock and, fuck, yes, his dick is happy to meet his friend again.
“Goddamn it, babe, what you do to me,” he curses softly as his rhythm becomes more frantic.
Jimmy only moans in response, eyes half-closed, head thrown back, and he grabs Dean tightly, one hand still on Dean’s ass, but the other is now on the small of Dean’s back.
“Yes, yes, fuck, that’s it, babe. Come on, babe, cum for me, come on, yes, yes. Fuck.”
Jimmy holds on to him as he cums, and suddenly stares at Dean with perfect clarity. A moment’s perfect surprise is followed by perfect joy written all over his face. Now Dean feels all-powerful, the mightiest man on the world, the world too small for him, and his body burns and arches in the best way ever, cumming like this is his very first time, fumbling teenage enthusiasm giving way to adult knowledge in a single moment of light and fire.
He lets his head drop on Jimmy’s chest, lazily watching drops of sweat glisten on his pale skin. One seems trapped by a pink, raised nipple, and he doesn’t resist the temptation to lick it off. It’s salty - what else would it be? This is real - why wouldn’t it be?
“Ah, forget it,” Chuck announces, disgusted. Is he speaking to them? The crew? The world?
When he looks up, reaching for the towel that an obliging assistant hands him, he sees that Jimmy has fallen asleep. Is that why Chuck looked so angry? He was supposed to fuck him, wasn’t he? Whatever. He feels too good to care. “We can do it again later,” he suggests.
Chuck throws his hands up in the air. “Forget it.” He takes a swig straight from the bottle. “Jimmy’s out for the count and, knowing him, he won’t be in the mood for it for the next two days.”
“Since when do you care about moods?” He catches himself reaching for another sparkly drop, this one on the curve above Jimmy’s top lip, and he stops himself. He puts on a dressing gown more to give himself something to do than to cover his modesty.
“Jimmy’s a special case.” Chuck grimaces like he’s revealed too much, and for a guy who just can’t shut up, is a surprise. “This is officially a wrap for the day, guys.”
“Will you send me a copy of this? When it’s all edited and stuff?”
Chuck looks at him strangely.
He gets right into Chuck’s face. “I fucked up, Chuck, I know I did. I just want to see where I went wrong. Off-script.”
Chuck still looks like he doesn’t believe him, but he finally nods. “Fine. I’ll do it. Go take a shower, you stink. Why on earth did I get into this business? The hours are long, the pay is crap, I never have enough money on my budget and I never get to fuck anyone, people like you drive me to drinking in the middle of the day and…”
Dean tunes him out and goes to have a shower without looking at the way Jimmy is sleeping peacefully in the middle of the bed, sprawling with cum all over his body without any care in the world. Without looking much at him, that is.
When Chuck calls him two days later and tells him that they’ll keep the thing as it was and add it to the new compilation of ‘Hot Businessmen About Town’ they’re preparing, he doesn’t feel upset. Or annoyed. Or anything else for that matter. He feels nothing at all.
When Chuck sends him the edited DVD, for the first time in his life, he watches himself. Then he hides it someplace where Cassie won’t find it. And he still feels nothing.
&*&*
In retrospect, he should have known this would happen. But it had seemed like such a harmless little thing at first, so could he have ever imagined where it would lead? It had started with him watching himself with Jimmy. At least, the first time it had been him watching himself. The second time, it had been watching himself and jerking off at the sight. And so was the third and fourth.
Not that Dean was one of these people who got their freak-on recording and then re-watching themselves having sex. If he were one of them, he would have made home-movies with each and every-one of his girlfriends. His job and personal life were separate, damn it. It was what he’d always told them, and, well, if they liked it, then good for them. It was what he’d told Cassie, anyway.
But, he liked watching himself with Jimmy. He was discovering something new about himself every time he did it. The first time he saw the DVD, he’d been amazed at how surprised he looked. How from the start he’d gone out of character, and instead of being callous and inconsiderate, he’d been almost passive, waiting for Jimmy to give him cues on how and when to proceed. The second time, and the third, and the fourth, he remembered how well he and Jimmy had fitted together, and how obvious it was. He could imagine Chuck moving around them frantically trying to get the best angle and that’s why the result wasn’t a total failure. But instead of feeling amused, he’d become aroused. Jimmy had smelled nice, and he felt good. No harm there, right?
If only Cassie could understand that. “It’s not what it looks like,” he says helplessly, tucking himself in as quickly as possible. She’s early, damn it.
“Really?” She glances at the TV, where Dean is frantically jerking off. Like that, he can see Jimmy’s eyes, content and bright like a cat’s. No, Jimmy is all like a cat, basking in Dean’s desire. “Dean,” she says sharply.
Cassie looks mad and all he can feel is guilty and embarrassed. He wipes his hand, and turns the thing off.
“You told me. You promised me. Your work was one thing, your personal life another.”
“And it is, Cassie, it is. Look, Cass, this is…”
“Shut up.” She paces for a moment and when she sits down, she looked madder than before. “When did you start doing guys?”
“Er…”
“God, Dean, you think this is easy for me?”
“No, but I thought we had an understanding.”
“Yes, but you’d never mentioned men.” Cassie’s anger flares up for a moment. “It’s bad enough knowing what you do for a living, and sharing you with other women, but men too?”
“Cass, darling,” he starts but when he tries to hug her, she slips away from him. “Please, it doesn’t mean anything. It’s just a job, you know that. Gay sex pays better than straight sex, that’s all.”
Cassie shots him an aggravated look. “You wanna tell me you did it for us next? Dean, I just caught you jerking off to…” She shakes her head, her curls hiding her face for a moment. “No, Dean, you don’t get to lie to me any more.”
“Cassie.”
“We’re through.” She pushes him on the couch and stomps towards their bedroom. “We’re done.”
Fuck it, fuck it, fuck.
While Cassie packs he busies himself in the kitchen. When he hears her come out, he tries to talk to her, but she looks at him so broken-hearted, eyes all red and puffy, that he can’t bring himself to say anything. The floor has never been more interesting, and when she closes the door behind her, he doesn’t know what to do with himself.
For a while he studies the DVD cover. It’s not like it’s Jimmy’s fault Cassie broke up with him, but Jimmy can probably make him feel better. Yes, it’s all an act on Jimmy’s part, the way he looks all loving and sweet, as if there’s something going on between them, but he’d take an hour of fake love under the cameras rather than call a hooker, or stay alone for a while. It’s wrong and unprofessional and a shitty thing to do, but he needs someone to lie to him, and he can’t think of a better liar than Jimmy at that moment.
“Chuck, you have to arrange something between me and Jimmy. Fast.”
“What? Who’s that? Dean? Are you drunk? What on earth are you talking about?”
“You heard me. I want you to make a film. With me and Jimmy. Now.”
“Dean, this is not how it works.” Chuck says. “You know tha…”
He cuts him off. “No, Chuck. You listen to me. When have I ever said ‘no’ when you called me? And, Chuck, you call me, not my agent, remember? So, did I ever tell you I was busy, or not feeling like it, or whatever?”
“No, b..”
“No buts, buddy. You owe me. Whenever you asked, I came through for you, didn’t I? And the first time I ask something, you want to screw me over? It doesn’t work like that, Chuck.”
“Dean, listen to me, it really isn’t…”
“No, you listen. I want you to arrange things. As soon as possible.”
“I won’t, I can’t do that,” Chuck protests, but Dean knows he’s winning. Chuck already sounds resigned.
“Yes, you can, because you’re Chuck Edlund, director of AV extraordinaire, and no one says ‘no’ to you. You hear me? You can do this, Chuck.”
“Oh, man. Ca... Jimmy’s gonna kill me.”
“Yes, you can,” Dean sing-songs as he hangs up. He knows Chuck won’t let him down.
&*&*
It takes Chuck a few days to arrange things and Dean feels justifiably smug and annoyed. Someone like Chuck shoots a film a day, maybe every two days if he has more money to spend, and yet it took him almost a week to arrange something for him? Six days during which Dean was sulking and miserable and wondering if maybe he’d been wrong about Cassie in the first place, if maybe she wasn’t the one for him, if she couldn’t handle his work. But, damn, no one had made him feel like she had. There were times in the middle of the night, when she burrowed into his arms and her breath was like sweet music, that he actually thought she was the one for him. And to think he’d even considered introducing her to Sammy. Damn.
But at least Chuck has come through for him, and he hasn’t felt so eager about doing a gig in … no, he’s never felt that eager. But that nervousness he had felt, way back when he was first starting his career. Logically, he knows there’s nothing to be afraid of. But he also knows that he’s basically going to use Jimmy to feel good, and that’s not fair.
Well, tough; he needs this more than anything else. And if Jimmy has no idea, then there’s no harm done.
“Where’s Chuck?” he asks when he arrives at the set, a house on a quiet, suburban neighbourhood that looks perfectly respectable on the outside, and just as respectable on the inside. Furniture that matches the rugs and the curtains, modern paintings, but not outrageously so, on the walls, a couple of real pretty lamps in the living room.
“Calming the beast,” Ruby tells him.
“What?”
“Upstairs, in the bathroom,” she explains, and makes a bubble with her chewing gum that is twice as big as her mouth. “I wouldn’t go there if I were you,” she adds.
It’s already too late. Dean’s climbing the stairs two at the time and when he reaches the upper floor, he looks for the first closed door. As he walks, he sees the bedroom, and fuck, the covers are exactly the same ones Cassie had wanted to buy for their bed, dark brown with a pattern of autumn leaves, red and yellow and russet. Damn.
He passes the study and, thank god, the next door is the bathroom. But as he’s about to knock and make his presence known so they can fucking start already, he hears Jimmy, and, damn, he sounds wrecked. In a bad way.
“Fucking businessman of the year. Can you believe that?”
Chuck must be making soothing noises, nodding, because there’s a moment’s silence. “How did you find out?”
“Raphael sent me the article.”
“Oh.” Chuck must surely be running his hands through his hair now. “Well, I always thought your brother was a bit of an asshole.”
“Hmm.” The noise that follows that is a retching sound. Dean wants to leave, Jimmy throwing up in there makes him feel uncomfortable, but at the same time he’s curious.
“Damn it,” Jimmy says, sounding even worse than before. “I’m not in the mood for this. Not today, Chuck. Please.”
“But we have everything set up,” Chuck says reasonably. “By the time I can get someone to cover you, I’ll have lost most of the day. Come on,” he says, and he’s definitely wheedling him now, “it will be fun. Your favourite kind of script: lovers meeting again after a while. And did I tell you who else will be here? Dean. You remember Dean. You like Dean.”
“Hm.”
“Please? Who cares about that fucking asshole? Or that asshole of a brother of yours? We have a film to do and Dean must be here already. Come on, brush your teeth and, fuck, do you have to drink now? You just threw up, man. This is not good for you.”
“I don’t care,” Jimmy says as sullenly as a five-year-old who’s just had his favourite toy taken away.
“But I do.”
Jimmy snorts and Dean can’t take it any more. He knocks on the door. “Hey, princess, you there?”
“Go away,” Jimmy tells him, trying to sound authoritative and failing miserably.
“Dean, wait, we’ll be right down,” Chuck says at the same time. “Just give us a minute.”
“No, go away, I’m not coming down. I’m not doing anything.”
“Jimmy,” Chuck whines.
Dean opens the door. “You’re such a fucking cliché,” he says the moment he sees Jimmy kneeling by the toilet bowl, like he’s a drug addict or something. Which he probably is, if he’s not an alcoholic, but Dean tries not to think about that too much. He avoids Chuck’s gaze; he’s perched on the bathtub edge like a bird watching over his nest. “I thought you were a pro.”
“Not everyone can be like you.”
Now, that’s ironic. If he really were professional, he wouldn’t have asked Chuck to arrange this for him. And the way Chuck looks up shows that Chuck has exactly the same thought. “What can I say? It’s a talent. Get up.”
“No, I want to stay here and continue being a fucking cliché, thank you very much.” Jimmy’s eyes are blazing, the coldest, iciest fire he’s ever seen.
“Why? Because you want to sit there and mope about whatever happened in Bumfuck, Fuck-All when you little?”
Chuck shrugs when Jimmy looks at him, incredulous. Then Jimmy stands up. “You have no right to talk to me like that. You don’t know anything about me.”
“What I know is what I see. A grown-up man who can’t deal with his responsibilities, and who prefers drinking to facing his problems.”
Chuck nods while Jimmy keeps staring, like the world’s most stunned goldfish.
Dean wants to kiss him so badly he hurts - and he has no idea where the thought came from. “Don’t do that,” he says to Chuck instead. “Nod as if you agree with me. You obviously enable his behaviour.”
“I don’t.”
“You do,” both Dean and Jimmy say. The next moment Jimmy looks away. The sudden color on his cheeks speaks of embarrassment, the glare directed at the floor betrays anger, and Dean wants to make him smile so much. “Can we get on with the show now?”
“If you think I’m doing this sober, you’re mistaken,” Jimmy tells him as he picks up the bottle. “I don’t need to be sober for you to fuck me,” he continues, voice full of venom.
“You sure? You might enjoy it more.” Dean realises he’s giving Jimmy his most seductive smile but doesn’t stop. He wants this.
“I doubt it,” Jimmy says and his eyes are dead. “Fine, let’s do this.” He pushes Dean aside and takes a swig right as he passes in front of him. Then he sticks his tongue out.
Chuck runs behind Jimmy, shaking his head like he wants to forget everything. But Dean doesn’t. He hates that Jimmy is messed-up; he hates that he has to drink before he can face him. He wants…
Oh, screw it. He doesn’t want anything. He came here to do his job; that’s all he wants. All he cares about.
&*&*
The smell of alcohol masks that of vomit well, but when he’s standing right behind Jimmy, hugging him, whispering sultrily in his ear, “Did you start the party without me?” exactly as the script demanded, it doesn’t do such a good job. For a moment, as Jimmy turns around and stares at him almost shyly, he’s scared that Jimmy will kiss him, but then Jimmy moves away and falls on the bed.
“I did, love. What you gonna do about it? Punish me?”
It seems like it’s Jimmy’s turn to ignore the script. Ruby makes a gagging notion from across the room. Usually, she’s a professional, but she’s not acting like that today. Dean smirks. “What if I do,” he says as he kneels between Jimmy’s legs, spreading them apart as he moves forward. “Will you protest? Fight me?”
Jimmy raises both hands and wraps them behind Dean’s neck. It’s like being tied with a warm, heavy fabric, and he can’t raise his head any more. He can only stare down, at Jimmy licking his lips as if he wants to kiss him again. ‘Of course not,’ and ‘don’t be stupid,’ his eyes say. “I’m yours,” he says simply instead, seriously, and fuck if that isn’t the sexiest thing Dean’s ever heard. “Do what you will with me.”
No, that’s the sexiest thing he’s ever heard and fuck if he has any idea who might buy this film when it’s all done, because that’s not a porn line. But it’s a sexy one. A real one. He leans down, and kisses Jimmy and Jimmy freezes beneath him, his hands lock, hard and heavy over Dean’s nape, his mouth stays closed.
When it opens, it is to scream: “Cut.”
“What now?” Dean sits up, and can’t decide if he wants to glare at Chuck for obeying Jimmy’s order, or Jimmy for spoiling things just as they had started to get good.
“Kissing, kissing,” Jimmy shouts, jabbing his finger on Dean’s chest, right where his heart beats. “There’s a no-kissing clause in my contract.”
“Really? Well, maybe you should be grateful someone wanted to kiss you instead of screaming bloody murder. Your mouth stinks.”
“You didn’t mind a moment ago,” Jimmy reminds him with a sneer.
He’s about to protest when Chuck starts shouting too. “Damn, damn, damn. This is really bad for my health, you hear me?” He pauses long enough to drink. “You,” he points at Dean, “no kissing. You, no… whatever. God, haven’t we wasted enough time already?”
“We’re shooting a porn film,” Jimmy says helpfully before Dean can make exactly the same point. “Not Russian Ark.”
“Hey, you watched that?”
Jimmy raises an eyebrow. ‘I’m not stupid,’ he tells him without words.
“I loved that film.” Jimmy’s gone a step further from his stunned goldfish impression, tilting his head to the side like a really curious bird, and Dean can’t shut up. “Best depiction of modern Russian history I’ve ever seen.” He doesn’t say he only went to see it because he was curious about a film shot in one go, nor that he didn’t expect to like it as much as he did.
Jimmy nods a little.
“My thoughts exactly. But on the whole, fantastic. And that scene where…” That’s when he realises that even though Jimmy seems entranced and interested, everyone else has fallen silent and watches him with horrified interest. And Chuck? He looks like’s he’s about to have an aneurysm. “Maybe we can talk about that later?”
“Thank fuck for that,” Chuck mutters, and Dean notices that he’s already drunk one third of the bottle. Perhaps he and Jimmy have their own Alcoholics Anonymous club, and enable each other. “Places, everyone. Three, two, one.”
Because they know Chuck can be exacting when he wants to, they start from the start: Jimmy standing up, a porn magazine on his hands that he studies with fake interest, Dean approaching from behind. Jimmy’s back looks so lonely, and it’s such a weird thing to feel, but that’s how it is. “Did you start the party without me?” he asks again, and this time he stays back, because he still wants to kiss Jimmy.
Jimmy turns around, looking down teasingly. “Maybe.” His finger traces Dean’s hipbone, feather-light, tempting. It rests on the base of Dean’s shaft and then Jimmy looks up again. “But what’s your excuse?”
The ability to maintain an erection under lights and people and follow directions such as ‘lift your leg’ and ‘move your hand’ is what makes Dean a good actor, but playing with Jimmy he’s discovered that he also has a new ability. That of getting fully hard without much help. He used to read skin mags or watch stuff, but now, all it takes is Jimmy’s touch. “Do I need an excuse when I have you?”
It must be the right thing to say even though it’s not scripted, because Jimmy smiles delighted and pulls him down on the bed. They tumble in a blur of limbs that’s probably hell to film, but he doesn’t care, because Jimmy is pressed tightly against him, and has Dean trapped with arms and legs and, damn, he’s flexible. Dean thrusts lazily within his bonds, and Jimmy closes his eyes and nuzzles him, and it’s like waking up next to Cassie, Sunday morning, almost noon, and there’s leftover pizza and pie for breakfast and they don’t have to move.
When Jimmy finally lets him go, and turns around, offering himself, Dean has trouble breathing. Jimmy’s beautiful like this, against these dark covers spread with leaves. His skin is pale and luminous and Dean feels like he’s about to take some forest creature, something wild and not exactly human, that stopped mid-flight and fell in Dean’s arms, and is showing him trust. His hands shake as he reaches for the lube, and when he sees that there’s also lotion on the bedside table, he takes that.
Jimmy’s skin warms under his fingers as he massages the liquid on the small of his back, his buttocks, his thighs. It takes on a warm glow under the lights, and Jimmy makes tiny, content noises that make Dean happy. Jimmy’s a good liar, and Cassie used to lie like that beneath him, and god, he misses her. He wishes this were real. That this was Cassie, or maybe a non-drunk Jimmy. Someone who’d really love him, and let him love them. That’s all he wants, and his hands shake again.
They could have had these bedcovers, and Cassie would have looked black and beautiful against them, a force of nature tamed by his hand. Her hair would curl around his fingers as he would pull her in for a kiss. In the last moment he’d change his mind, and kiss her neck, and it would be soft and warm and smelling like sleep and sunlight and time stopped. “God, I want you so much, so fucking much.”
And Cassie would spread her legs, just like that, and his finger would slide inside her most secret place, and she would arch and moan in the pillow. Just like that. “Yes, babe, you feel so good, now let me make you feel good too,” and he’d twist his finger inside her tight warmth until she pushed back. Only then would he add more lotion, and another finger, and he’d start teasing her again.
“Yes, Cass, open up for me, yes, babe, like that, let me, oh, Cass.” But that’s not Cassie, and he realises he’s whispering in Jimmy’s ear things he never told Cassie when Jimmy freezes again beneath him. But Chuck will kill him if he stops again. Will kill them both. Jimmy glances at him, shocked, and Dean leans down to press an almost-kiss at the side of his mouth. “Sorry,” he murmurs against skin that’s gone cold. “Won’t do it again.”
“It’s okay,” Jimmy whispers back.
He still looks so shocked, still feels so cold, that Dean really wants to kiss him, lick away the terror that lingers in the corners of his mouth, warm the fragile skin of his lips. He slides back and kisses his nape, and, keeping his eyes open, he starts preparing Jimmy again. Has Jimmy just started shivering or didn’t he notice with his hands shaking and his eyes closed? “It’s okay,” he says soothingly, and tries to remember what the fuck was the script about, because this is all new and frightening.
Jimmy nods, and Dean feels something in him uncoil and relax. “Yes, it’s all okay now,” he smiles, and kisses Jimmy again. And is rewarded with a smile, and a soft, tentative motion. When Dean stills, Jimmy nuzzles him, and shudders beneath him, not in fear, not in shock, not surprise, but pleasure. Dean can proceed.
His dick nestles in the space between Jimmy’s balls and the sheets and he can’t decide if he prefers the warm smoothness of flesh, or the cool crispness of fabric. He thrusts helplessly, eager to sink himself into the impossible heat his fingers have just encountered, his fingers are still trying to relax and claim, and can’t wait. But wait he must, until Jimmy is thoroughly slick and open, until Jimmy tells him, lets him know that it’s okay to move.
And when he does, Dean presses himself inside, slowly and carefully, until Jimmy rises up and meets him half-thrust, impatient and careless and as eager as Dean. If he was waiting for a signal, this is it. He steadies himself with one hand on Jimmy’s waist, keeps the other on his side, and puts down one leg, mindful of the camera for a moment and then, he lets himself go. He shuts his eyes, and forgets everything around but Jimmy.
Jimmy is all there is. His hot, tight ass, made just for Dean to fuck. His narrow hips, made just for Dean to hold. His soft skin, made just for Dean to slide against. When Dean moves away, Jimmy follows, and never lets him slip out of his body. When Dean pushes forward, Jimmy is even more insistent, letting Dean know that whatever he does, Jimmy can take it.
“Impatient much?” He laughs as he slows down.
“Yes, yes, please. Fuck me. I need. I…” Jimmy lowers his head, and his voice is dropping too. “Please. I want this. So much. Fuck me. Harder. Please.” The last word is drawn out, as if Jimmy opens up to him more than his body.
“No.”
“No?” Jimmy twists and stares at him. “No?” he says so imperiously and irritated, a spoiled child denied.
“No,” he laughs again and, holding Jimmy still, slows even more. It is a hardship; Jimmy’s really made for him. More than anyone he’s slept with during his career. Perhaps Jimmy fits him as well as Cassie; two sides of the same coin, or something like that, male and female, white and black, fair and dark. Beautiful. And he doesn’t want this to end. It’s so beautiful.
“Please?” Jimmy whines beautifully. He wiggles and shimmies and Dean bites his lips. “You’re mean. You leave me, you interrupt my party, and now you refuse to fuck me.” His voice breaks, and he falls on his elbows, changing the angle of entry. It’s also easier to stare back at Dean like that. “Fuck me, my love. Haven’t I waited enough?”
Like that, Dean can believe that Jimmy has been waiting for him all his life, spread open and eager and ready, all made for Dean, all for the taking. He looks at him like Dean is the answer to all his prayers, his true love, his only love. How on earth can Dean deny him? “Yes, yes, you’re right, babe, forgive me, let me. Let me show you how much I love you. Oh, god, yes, you’re so perfect. Feel this? I want to fuck you so hard you’ll feel me for days. When I’m gone, you’ll still feel this, burning you inside, and it will hurt so good, you won’t regret a thing. Do you feel this?”
“Yes, I do. God, it burns. Harder, love, harder. Faster. Make me hurt, mark me, I’m yours, all yours, fuck me so I don’t want another, now, please, harder. Fuck me. Fuck.”
Jimmy collapses as he cums, his climax robbing him of words, and Dean follows him, his orgasm ripping through him. He’s falling on Jimmy’s back, waiting for Jimmy to support him, as Jimmy does. He breathes Jimmy’s lotion-slicked skin, the sharp scent of sex, feels Jimmy cooling down, and rests his hand on skin that’s still covered in a fine sheet of sweat, glistening in the lights. “Hey,” he says lazily, fighting sleepiness.
“Hey yourself,” Jimmy says, just as lazy, just as hazy, just as happy as Dean. He even smiles at him.
For the longest time, Dean stares at him, and Jimmy stares back. The guy has long lashes, and his gaze is curious, and calm. Makes Dean think of a statue, or maybe a painting. Something strange and valuable. “You don’t look like a Jimmy,” he says, thought coming out of nowhere.
Jimmy snorts. Before he can answer, Chuck shouts. “Will you get up already? We’re still on a schedule. This house is rented by the hour, so the sooner we’re out, the better. Up, up.”
Dean slides off Jimmy reluctantly. The moment he’s up, Jimmy jumps out of the bed. “You can clean yourself in the kitchen,” he tells him haughtily as he runs upstairs, obviously towards the bathroom.
“Damn.”
Chuck grins and then pretends not to. “At least he didn’t hit you with anything. That’s something.”
“Thank god for small mercies.”
“Amen to that. The kitchen is there, by the way.”
Words can’t express his indignation, but it could be worse. Though, at the moment, he can’t imagine what that might be.