What Happens In Paris, by arby_m, Adrian/Milo/Hayden, NC-17
Title: What Happens In Paris
Pairing: Adrian Pasdar/Milo Ventimiglia/Hayden Panettiere
Rating: NC-17 (corruption of a minor)
Spoilers: none
Length: ~3,100 words
Summary/Note: All my RPFs are basically AUs, and this one is no different. This is what if World Tour was more like summer camp, in France. Adrian and Milo and Hayden, frolicking through Paris for a month. Graphic by eryslash, not designed for this story but totally works!
What Happens In Paris
Adrian was married. Happily. This was so widely known, it allowed him to run his hands over his costars with impunity. Hay and Mi, meanwhile, were an item. This was all but official since it wasn’t yet legal til she turned 18.
Adrian didn’t know who he envied more, Hay or Mi. He liked to watch them together ("so lordly in your youth, and roseate in the sunrise of your glory,” he would exclaim like bad Shakespeare) as they tried to avoid getting caught in PDA by the press. He spent half the time with them laughing until he cried. He was probably just overtired, but he hadn’t had so much fun in years.
Hayden was such luscious jailbait, all tiny sprite-like and pretty as a fairy princess or a little china doll, but she was surprisingly smart and strong-willed. Her principled naivete was adorable - Adrian and Milo liked to wind her up with un-PC jokes to see her flush with righteous indignation. Milo was...Milo. Sometimes Adrian got a funny feeling in his stomach when he looked at Milo. He did not know how to attribute it so he kept quiet. They wouldn’t want an old man like him perving in on their babydoll romance, anyway.
He loved hanging out with them because they didn’t make him feel excluded in the least - in fact when he was with them he felt like the cool older brother, the kind the hot little number his brother was dating would secretly have a crush on, and if you were lucky you found out about it two or five or ten years later, and you still wanted to fuck her, and probably always would, she was such a little firecracker in your memory. Either way it was one (or fifty if you counted variations on the theme, with man’s endlessly creative erotic imagination) for the Spank Bank. And if he sometimes found his mind straying when he spanked it, if he sometimes imagined Hay’s face flushed, biting her lips, cornsilk hair trailing across her face as her eyes closed or Mi’s intent gaze coming unglued, or their bodies moving in tandem, muscles tensing and releasing until they peaked and as he did alone in his shower or his huge bed, there was no crime in that, right? As long as he never acted on this, where was the harm?
And Mi and Hay were handsy with each other, which was perfectly normal, but they were also handsy with him, which was...kind of not. Not that he was complaining. Sometimes in her endless enthusiasm for whatever was under discussion, she squeezed his arm, and her hot little grasp growing tighter and then relaxing, like a human blood pressure cuff, excited him beyond all belief. He got to tickle her on the red carpet and if Milo’s constant, elaborately casual caresses sometimes felt a little too real, he chalked it up as a fluke. Maybe they didn’t mean it. This whole World Tour trip was like a month abroad - kids getting a paid vacation - in return for a little Q&A here, a photo shoot there, they got to run amok in France and laugh themselves sick and shop and eat at cafes at 4am. Milo’s French was execrable, Adrian’s even worse. Only Hay could make herself understood by the average Frog, and even the notoriously snotty French couldn’t help but smile, she was that cute. Adrian tried not to think about what he’d do when it was over.
Like that one time, he and Mi had been on either side of this wide street packed with shops, and independently they saw Hay crumple to the ground unexpectedly. They rushed over and finding she had only broken the heel of her shoe, not her ankle, were so giddy with relief that they hefted her (with the bird-like frame she had, it was easy) in a human chair and marched her straight into the nearest shoe store. Hayden was hitting them half-heartedly and blushing demurrals but she was giggling too much to make it stick, shifting in their arms like a wriggly bundle of deliciously silken weighted sunshine, squirmy as a new puppy. People were staring at them for new reasons now, not the usual celebrity freakshow, and Adrian and Milo laughed so hard they almost dropped her more than once. They paraded her around the store in her human chaise longue for a good ten minutes, then took turns bowing with elaborate obsequiousness and handing her random shoes off the rack, each more hideous and inappropriate than the last, and saying “and now, would Mademoiselle like to try on zis paire?” in their thickest, fakest French accents. In retrospect Adrian was surprised they didn’t get thrown out of the store. They wouldn’t even let the real salespeople near her. She ended up with a pair of sneaks with tiny pink & green tennis balls on them - Mi said, “how perfect - you’ve already got mine, in blue”, ducking the anticipated arm-punch expertly - and “my boys” gave her another human chair ride to the taxi because she claimed the shoes didn’t match her outfit.
They treated her like a little princess and a tomboy at the same time, and it was obvious she loved it. When Noah came by, he couldn’t resist shaking his finger paternally at Hay and saying, “You watch out honey, don’t hang out with those boys too much - you know they only want one thing!” At that, Hayden’s eyes met Adrian’s and he saw something flare inside them before she quickly dropped her gaze. He glanced over at Milo, who didn’t look angry, only amused.
Adrian didn’t want to think about boring grownup shit like consequences and propriety and statutory rape laws. He just wanted to lose himself in the endless summer of fun they offered him. Sometimes it felt like the near-constant giddiness of being with them was an expanding gas inside his chest, like his torso was a helium balloon, and the only way to relieve the pressure was to laugh. The only normal way, anyway.
And then one day Hayden got the call, she had to go back to the States for a bit, maybe for good or at least until hiatus was over, and they all went out and got shitfaced to commemorate the last night in their little gang. Around 3am Hay slung her arms languidly around them both and said drunkenly, “My two boys. I love you both so much.” Adrian tried to see how Milo was taking this but couldn’t seem to catch his face in the light. Hayden went on unheeding, “You guys are two of my favorite people in the entire world.” She turned to Mi and kissed him lustily, shamelessly, as if they were alone in the room. Adrian felt his face growing even more flushed than the alcohol excused, and made a motion as if to turn away, but she broke away from Milo and without pausing turned to him, cupping her heated palm against Adrian’s neck possessively, and kissed him in turn, impudently sure of herself, as if she knew he could not refuse her, and she was right. His mouth opened helplessly to her persistence, she tasted like lollipops (that would be the amaretto, some far-off, somewhat sober part of his mind informed him solemnly) and sodapop (the Coke in rum & Coke) and her mouth was so sweet he forgot himself, who he was. He became nothing more than a moment comprised of desire, just melting into her touch, wanting her, and then she stopped. He was afraid to look but when he finally did she was smiling, that wonderful broad grin of hers that made him feel like he’d won the EuroMillions, and she took Adrian’s head in one hand and Milo’s in the other and moved them together and said, “There, now you try it,” with the satisfied yet expectant air of a scientist conducting a long-awaited experiment she knows will be successful.
Adrian didn’t think, couldn’t even process with the helium rising in his chest, and Milo didn’t hesitate for a moment, he leaned over and kissed Adrian hard - too hard in fact, the typical young male tendency to be too aggressive coming out, and Adrian didn’t even know how but somehow he took that energy and transformed it, sent it back to Milo with subtlety and a more sensual conception of sex, where everything wasn’t about scoring points or getting laid - an American football mindset - but into a more tantric zone, where the smallest touch could inflame you for weeks - the rarefied lands of fantasy and suggestion that married people lived in - and as Adrian drew back a bit and ran his tongue lightly over the roof of Milo’s mouth, back to front, Milo gasped satisfyingly and his back arched off his chair in helpless response. Adrian had him then, he knew - whatever came next (or whoever, the crude joke notwithstanding). Hayden was eyeing them hungrily. He recognized that flame in her eye from before; it was hotter than the pure blue hearts of lit Bunsen burners, but this time she didn’t look away from him. In fact she met his gaze, shockingly direct, and licked her lips in a transparent attempt to be seductive. They were so pink and shiny, they could be made out of sweet candyfloss, glossily opalescent as the polish on her little nails, and it was effective nonetheless.
“Guys.” said she, huskily, as if there was no room for hesitation, as if it’d already been decided and they were just waiting for somebody to make the move. “Let’s go upstairs.”
Adrian’s brain was reeling, trying to keep up. Something nagged faintly like a little bell in the back of his mind.
“Hay,” he groaned, unwilling to come back to the real world, but someone had to, “I can’t. There’s a little thing called statutory rape, for one thing.”
Hayden smiled wickedly. “Oh Ade, didn’t you know? The age of consent in France is 15.”
Adrian narrowed his eyes at her. “We’re still Americans and governed by American laws.”
She tilted her head adorably, the burning blue lamps of her eyes lighting his, kindling something in him like tinder. “Ah, but we won’t tell, will we Mi?”
Milo raised his head from her neck, where he’d been sloppily mouthing, and shook his head.
Adrian closed his eyes against temptation. “And then there’s the little fact that I’m married.”
Hayden was not fazed in the slightest by this. “It doesn’t count - like we’re at summer camp. And what happens at summer camp...”
“...stays at summer camp.” Milo finished her sentence for her. He seemed deeply amused by Adrian’s discomfiture. His own eyes were dark pools of dissolution, meltingly caramel.
“It doesn’t have to be me & you, if that makes it any better,” Hay continued inexorably. “I mean, I’d love that, don’t get me wrong,” and her voice dropped on love in a way that went straight to Adrian’s pants, “but even more than that, I want to watch my two beautiful boys get it on,” and she took Mi’s hand and placed it on Adrian’s chest. Milo took the hint and immediately ran it under Adrian’s shirt in that familiar gesture they’d both been indulging in all summer, but now it gave him a new electric thrill.
Adrian tried to think with his upstairs brain. It was a difficult task. Nat would think it was hot, to hear about him and Milo. She wouldn’t be as understanding about Hay. And Mi was at least an adult. It was bad enough to cheat without it being literally illegal as well.
Mi leaned over and began licking Adrian’s ear, delicately, and Adrian didn’t know if he was an incredibly quick study, or maybe he’d been reading some old Tiger Beats, or what, but hot damn if it didn’t make his spine shiver and his crotch tighten deliciously with anticipation. Hayden chose that moment to belie all her fine words about selflessly sharing by sliding bonelessly into Adrian’s lap, warm thighs shifting her weight onto his rapidly stiffening cock so he groaned aloud, rather loudly in fact. Some people at the bar looked over at them, then turned away when they saw what was happening. Those blase Frogs, Adrian half-thought idly. We could be having a full-blown orgy over here and they’d just order some more red wine.
The thought of having a full-blown orgy with these two almost made him cream in his pants like a teenager, like he was Hay’s age. Hay twined her hands in his hair and combed her fingers through to his ears. The light surety of her touch made him even harder, if such a thing were even possible.
She stared into his eyes, a half-smile playing over her candied lips. “So. What sayest thou, sirrah?” They’d had a running joke of occasionally speaking in mock medieval courtly talk since visiting that castle in Lyons.
“Fair childe, I cannot lie with you this night, for I feare to be thrown in the gaol. But I will accept yon fair and sturdy youth in your stead,” nodding at Milo, who lolled against the booth as if waiting for someone to win him, eyes half-lidded as a sybarite’s. Maybe Mi’ll pass out before things get too heavy, Adrian thought. He was vaguely conscious of a distinct disappointment at the prospect.
Hay promptly spoiled ye olde illusion by emitting a mini-shriek of joy and clapping her hands. “Sorry,” she giggled, her entire body quivering slightly in Adrian’s lap. Forsooth, Adrian thought semi-randomly. His dick wasn’t sure whether to protest the jostling or welcome more friction.
He made as if to stand, and scooped her up easily, depositing her on the floor, before holding out his hand to Milo, who glanced up slyly and offered a slanted smile in return. Then Mi took his hand and pulled himself up and wrapped his arm familiarly around Adrian in another customary gesture that had suddenly taken on a whole new meaning. He turned and slurred in Adrian’s ear, “Your room or mine?” His hot breath and the exquisite vibration of his voice resounding down Adrian’s spine distracted Adrian to the point of not even understanding the words for a minute. Then it hit him in a delayed reaction, and he thought, at least as well as he was able. “Yours,” he muttered. If she called, Nat would get the answering service as she had before, or try his cell... he fumbled in his pocket and found it, turned it off.
Mi was holding Hay’s hand and simultaneously draped all over Adrian they made their merry way upstairs. Adrian was conscious of a slight embarrassment as they crossed the lobby, but quelled it by thinking that this was how they acted most of the time anyway.
Soon they were on their floor, the 5th floor, where so often Adrian’d said goodnight at 3, 4, 5 in the morning and Mi and Hay would stagger off clutching each other, sometimes they’d be hot and heavy by this time - that was his signal to skedaddle, turning down his hallway to sleep the fitful, haunted sleep of the intoxicated. He didn’t always remember his dreams, either, which could be lucky or unlucky, when those were better than G-rated. The dreams he’d had were surreal, unbelievably hot - and incredibly distracting when he remembered them while he was trying to act like he was related to either of them, or in public with his coworkers. Other times when Milo and Hayden were just normally touchy-feely, he’d go with them but inevitably ended up passed out on the couch like a teenager. Eventually he’d wake up with a crick in his neck just to stumble back to his bed for a few hours before the next event.
But this time they led him, or he swept them up, he couldn’t tell which, until they were at Mi’s door, and the door opened smoothly like this wasn’t some heinous sin and crime, and they fell on the bed in a heap, laughing. Limbs tangled together until Adrian couldn’t tell whose was whose. Hay tugged at Milo’s shirt until he sat up and ripped it off in an exaggerated motion, making his tats crawl over his skin like snakes. Adrian wanted to follow them with his tongue. Mi lay back and stared lazily at them both, like a great sleepy cat, a tiny smile on his face. He had to know the effect he was having on Adrian.
Adrian leaned over, maintaining the eye contact until the very last minute, and licked his way from Milo’s stomach up to his left nipple, feeling the delicious bud harden beneath his tongue.
Hay leaned into Adrian, caressing his stomach idly beneath his shirt. His stomach did flip-flops like this was his first time. He couldn’t help himself, he stretched up and kissed her neck, slowly, tasting her soft and slightly salty skin, breathing in her intoxicating scent, vanilla and powder and something beneath it that was all Hayden. She mewled like a kitten and her whole body softened into him. He could feel her luscious breasts against his arm like little scoops of melting ice cream. Milo reached over as if this was entirely normal thing to do, and ran his palm down Hay’s side, curving around the tight swerve of her hip, sliding beneath her pants like an anaconda. Hay closed her eyes and licked her lips. Mi leaned forward to kiss her, as if he was compelled, and Adrian could feel the length of Mi’s cock as it pressed against Adrian’s thigh. He slid one hand down between them and squeezed it through the loose fabric of Mi’s jeans. Mi groaned into Hay’s mouth and it was incredibly hot. Hay opened her eyes and when saw where Adrian’s hand was, her electric blue eyes burned even brighter, if such a thing was even possible. She broke away from Milo with an adorable little sigh.
“Ade,” she said breathlessly, “Milo wants to do something for you,” and turning to Mi she continued, “Don’t you baby?”
And Milo looked at him from under those sly lashes and Adrian felt it down his spine like someone whispering in your ear, a buzzing thrum of vibrations humming in your nerves like sound waves on a telephone line. Mi smiled.
Adrian felt his skin ripple with anticipation. Hayden was smiling, and it was infectious. His own mouth slipped into a grin. Milo said in a throaty purr, “Don’t worry Hay, I’ll leave something for you.”
“Oh I’m not worried, I’ll be enjoying the view.”
She sat back with her own inordinately satisfied smirk, cat and canary. “I just knew it would work, I’ve been telling you all summer!”
“Right, right, what do I owe you again?”
“A first-class blowjob, now get cracking!”
Adrian listened to their faux bickering fondly. They were cute kids, and it had been a great summer. He’d miss them. Really.