...
I Love You (But You're Green)
Chace Crawford/Ed Westwick
NC17
A/N: hey, look. I wrote some Gossip Girl RPF. The title is from a Babyshambles song. A word of caution, though; I'm an Ed fan. A huge one.
*****
It starts like this: "I'm Ed. I play Chuck."
And it's the coolest accent Chace's ever heard, and he wonders if it's even real before he remembers that Chuck's not British.
The younger man slings an arm around Chace's shoulder and puts a hand on his chest. "Well, mate. If we're gonna play best friends, we'd best get started. Fancy a beer?"
And yeah, Chace is in. Over his head, probably.
*****************
Ed kisses like he's got all the time in the world, which is a huge contrast to Chace's urgency.
"Slow down, cowboy." Ed says, pinning Chace's shoulders to the wall behind him and licking slowly, excruciatingly into Chace's mouth and grinning like he's just made the world's best joke about Americans.
"This isn't," Chace pants, between the slow wet glide of Ed's lips on his, "this isn't really method acting."
"Sure it is," Ed quips, retort ever ready, "I bet Chuck and Nate fuck all the time."
*****************
He's chatting with Taylor one day when Ed pounces, grabbing his wrist and pulling him away mid-sentence.
"C'mon," he grins, sending a jaunty little wave in Taylor's direction. Chace plants his feet, but only half-heartedly. He knows they'll end up in his trailer, Ed's tongue knowing and dirty against his neck.
"Wait, Chace, about our scene." Taylor's eyebrow indicates that she knows something. Trouble is, the something she thinks she knows is probably about who spiked the orange juice at Kraft services a few mornings ago. Ed waves her away.
"Later, love." his smile is charming, always so damn charming. "I'll have him back to you in a jiffy."
Taylor shurgs, in no way immune to Ed's infectious, jaunty wink. "Where are you going?"
Ed smiles wickedly, a move that Chace knows Taylor will interpret as that they're going to get up to some sort of on-set mischief. He knows she can't see it as the 'I'm going to see how many times I can get Chace to come before afternoon call' that it is.
Chace shrugs helplessly in Taylor's direction as Ed grips his wrist tighter. "Don't worry about it," Ed tells her before they disappear around the corner, "there's a light on this tree that won't light on one side. I'm taking it back to my workshop, my dear..."
Chace barely hears Taylor's frustrated wail of despair before she's out of sight.
*****************
Ed is like sin in it's purest form and impossibly more annoying. He saunters onto set when he feels like it, hungover and reeking of weed and booze. Dark glasses mask the smirk in his eyes, but it's always there when Ed plunks down beside him in make-up and tilts his paper mug in Chance's direction. Tea, not coffee, but Chace has stopped trying to figure that out long ago.
Ed never talks before he's had at least two cups. Chace knows this from waking up beside him, hazy and out of it before he remembers where he is. Sometimes he asks Ed if it was good for him, too. Mostly, Ed just mutters some unintelligible gibberish and flips over. Sometimes he gets up and leaves the room, and Chace hears the shower running. Either way, there are never any words until after tea.
Ed always offers, and Chace always drinks it, steamy and sweet. He wishes for something more bitter, but he's stopped questioning it.
*****************
Chace is panting and sweating and Ed's not stopping. They've locked the trailer door, but he knows there's a good chance that someone might hear them.
"We should," Chace can't get it out, can't speak, because Ed keeps pressing his hips like that, pinning him down, rubbing them together, and oh fuck it's good. "We should... Ed, stop. We should get going..."
"Not nearly finished with you." Ed says, pressing slow, soft kisses down his chest. "You've only come once."
The air is humming, Chace's sure of it, it's sticky and scorching, swirling around the small space in the trailer. Chace has to focus, breath in and out, sucking in great gulps of the thick air as Ed makes his way lower, swirls his tongue into places nobody's ever taken the time to explore before.
"You're so pretty," he says quietly, "you stupid little fucker." Ed's hands pin his hips down as he presses searing, sucking kisses into his skin, pulling long moans from Chace's lips. Ed seems to like the noises, because he does it again, and again, and Chace is panting hard by the time he stops and finally takes him into his mouth.
Ed is obscene and gorgeous, his pink lips stretched around Chace's over-sensitive cock. Chace isn't proud of the strangled moan that catches in his throat, and he's got his hands in Ed's hair before he even realizes he's moved them.
"Ed, don't," Chace's voice is raw, fucked out, "I can't... too much." He struggles to breath, "it's too much."
Pulling off with a pop, Ed smirks and climbs across him, silencing Chace's protests with his mouth.
"It's not," Ed says between kisses, "You can." and he's got a hand between them. He wraps it around Chace's cock, starts pulling loosely. "You're going to come again. For me."
Chace nearly sobs as Ed starts up a rhythm, deliberate and torturous. He presses his lips to Chace's and leaves them there, ghosting, breathing in his soft gasps.
He's on the edge, impossible, but he can feel the heat coiling in his stomach, slow and aching and he needs more, so he thrusts up and Ed grins and speeds up. "I knew you could do it," he's whispering against Chace's mouth and Chase barely hears it.
He's almost there, almost there, he's got his eyes closed, and then he hears it, low and dirty and American in his ear. "Come for me, Nathaniel."
"Oh, fuck." Chace chokes, and he's lost, spilling against Ed's stomach and thrusting uncontrollably. Ed strokes him until his hips slow, and then he pecks Chace on the lips.
"Better get back." He grins, examining the mess on his hand before wiping it unceremoniously on Chace's discarded hoodie.
Chace struggles to catch his breath as Ed feels around for his jeans. "I hate you." He declares.
Ed just grins and pulls out his package of Marlboro's. "You're a crap liar."
*********************
Chace is the one whose hair is disheveled, when they stumble back onto set. Amidst the whispers and giggles of the cast, Ed glows. He's the epitome of professionalism.
Taylor smiles knowingly as Chace's cheeks color. Ed laughs and tells them all to get on with it.
They do the scenes, take after take, Ed's dialog getting stronger and more furious, like Chuck's supposed to be. Between takes, he shouts out Libertines lyrics and flirts with the lighting PA. Chace can only look on, and shake his head.
And he knows before he even watches the dailies who came out on top of that scene. Like it'd ever be anyone else.
Chace Crawford/Ed Westwick
NC17
A/N: hey, look. I wrote some Gossip Girl RPF. The title is from a Babyshambles song. A word of caution, though; I'm an Ed fan. A huge one.
*****
It starts like this: "I'm Ed. I play Chuck."
And it's the coolest accent Chace's ever heard, and he wonders if it's even real before he remembers that Chuck's not British.
The younger man slings an arm around Chace's shoulder and puts a hand on his chest. "Well, mate. If we're gonna play best friends, we'd best get started. Fancy a beer?"
And yeah, Chace is in. Over his head, probably.
*****************
Ed kisses like he's got all the time in the world, which is a huge contrast to Chace's urgency.
"Slow down, cowboy." Ed says, pinning Chace's shoulders to the wall behind him and licking slowly, excruciatingly into Chace's mouth and grinning like he's just made the world's best joke about Americans.
"This isn't," Chace pants, between the slow wet glide of Ed's lips on his, "this isn't really method acting."
"Sure it is," Ed quips, retort ever ready, "I bet Chuck and Nate fuck all the time."
*****************
He's chatting with Taylor one day when Ed pounces, grabbing his wrist and pulling him away mid-sentence.
"C'mon," he grins, sending a jaunty little wave in Taylor's direction. Chace plants his feet, but only half-heartedly. He knows they'll end up in his trailer, Ed's tongue knowing and dirty against his neck.
"Wait, Chace, about our scene." Taylor's eyebrow indicates that she knows something. Trouble is, the something she thinks she knows is probably about who spiked the orange juice at Kraft services a few mornings ago. Ed waves her away.
"Later, love." his smile is charming, always so damn charming. "I'll have him back to you in a jiffy."
Taylor shurgs, in no way immune to Ed's infectious, jaunty wink. "Where are you going?"
Ed smiles wickedly, a move that Chace knows Taylor will interpret as that they're going to get up to some sort of on-set mischief. He knows she can't see it as the 'I'm going to see how many times I can get Chace to come before afternoon call' that it is.
Chace shrugs helplessly in Taylor's direction as Ed grips his wrist tighter. "Don't worry about it," Ed tells her before they disappear around the corner, "there's a light on this tree that won't light on one side. I'm taking it back to my workshop, my dear..."
Chace barely hears Taylor's frustrated wail of despair before she's out of sight.
*****************
Ed is like sin in it's purest form and impossibly more annoying. He saunters onto set when he feels like it, hungover and reeking of weed and booze. Dark glasses mask the smirk in his eyes, but it's always there when Ed plunks down beside him in make-up and tilts his paper mug in Chance's direction. Tea, not coffee, but Chace has stopped trying to figure that out long ago.
Ed never talks before he's had at least two cups. Chace knows this from waking up beside him, hazy and out of it before he remembers where he is. Sometimes he asks Ed if it was good for him, too. Mostly, Ed just mutters some unintelligible gibberish and flips over. Sometimes he gets up and leaves the room, and Chace hears the shower running. Either way, there are never any words until after tea.
Ed always offers, and Chace always drinks it, steamy and sweet. He wishes for something more bitter, but he's stopped questioning it.
*****************
Chace is panting and sweating and Ed's not stopping. They've locked the trailer door, but he knows there's a good chance that someone might hear them.
"We should," Chace can't get it out, can't speak, because Ed keeps pressing his hips like that, pinning him down, rubbing them together, and oh fuck it's good. "We should... Ed, stop. We should get going..."
"Not nearly finished with you." Ed says, pressing slow, soft kisses down his chest. "You've only come once."
The air is humming, Chace's sure of it, it's sticky and scorching, swirling around the small space in the trailer. Chace has to focus, breath in and out, sucking in great gulps of the thick air as Ed makes his way lower, swirls his tongue into places nobody's ever taken the time to explore before.
"You're so pretty," he says quietly, "you stupid little fucker." Ed's hands pin his hips down as he presses searing, sucking kisses into his skin, pulling long moans from Chace's lips. Ed seems to like the noises, because he does it again, and again, and Chace is panting hard by the time he stops and finally takes him into his mouth.
Ed is obscene and gorgeous, his pink lips stretched around Chace's over-sensitive cock. Chace isn't proud of the strangled moan that catches in his throat, and he's got his hands in Ed's hair before he even realizes he's moved them.
"Ed, don't," Chace's voice is raw, fucked out, "I can't... too much." He struggles to breath, "it's too much."
Pulling off with a pop, Ed smirks and climbs across him, silencing Chace's protests with his mouth.
"It's not," Ed says between kisses, "You can." and he's got a hand between them. He wraps it around Chace's cock, starts pulling loosely. "You're going to come again. For me."
Chace nearly sobs as Ed starts up a rhythm, deliberate and torturous. He presses his lips to Chace's and leaves them there, ghosting, breathing in his soft gasps.
He's on the edge, impossible, but he can feel the heat coiling in his stomach, slow and aching and he needs more, so he thrusts up and Ed grins and speeds up. "I knew you could do it," he's whispering against Chace's mouth and Chase barely hears it.
He's almost there, almost there, he's got his eyes closed, and then he hears it, low and dirty and American in his ear. "Come for me, Nathaniel."
"Oh, fuck." Chace chokes, and he's lost, spilling against Ed's stomach and thrusting uncontrollably. Ed strokes him until his hips slow, and then he pecks Chace on the lips.
"Better get back." He grins, examining the mess on his hand before wiping it unceremoniously on Chace's discarded hoodie.
Chace struggles to catch his breath as Ed feels around for his jeans. "I hate you." He declares.
Ed just grins and pulls out his package of Marlboro's. "You're a crap liar."
*********************
Chace is the one whose hair is disheveled, when they stumble back onto set. Amidst the whispers and giggles of the cast, Ed glows. He's the epitome of professionalism.
Taylor smiles knowingly as Chace's cheeks color. Ed laughs and tells them all to get on with it.
They do the scenes, take after take, Ed's dialog getting stronger and more furious, like Chuck's supposed to be. Between takes, he shouts out Libertines lyrics and flirts with the lighting PA. Chace can only look on, and shake his head.
And he knows before he even watches the dailies who came out on top of that scene. Like it'd ever be anyone else.