X-men RPS. Hugh Jackman/Liev Schrieber/Taylor Kitsch. NC-17. 3400 words.
God, tonight he’d be a slut for it if that’s what they wanted.
The hours of mingling and sound bites for the reporters have become a blur, and there’s been more than a couple drinks passed into his hand since the screening officially started. Taylor bounces from group to group, winding through the press of people and never sticking long with any one crowd. None of his friends are here anyway, just industry folks who cared enough to fly into Tuscon. Most of his co-stars have slipped out, a couple to the screening, the rest to who knows where.
Taylor catches one of the ushers for directions to the restroom furthest from the flow of people. A quiet corner and a splash of water on his face should knock him back into the game. He leaves his unfinished drink on a side table and heads down the maze of corridors, up a flight of stairs, the buzz of conversation fading as he turns into hallways that haven’t been decked out like the rest. The calm is welcome, and Taylor breathes a little bit easier with each step.
Unfortunately it seems like janitorial hadn’t bothered to unlock the restrooms this far from the main soiree. He jiggles the door handle, wonders if he ought to go have a smoke instead of trying to shock the last round of drinks and the jet lag out of his system. Halfway through the thought, the handle gives, and he stumbles a step inside. Occupied, fuck. An apology jumps to his tongue, ends up mangled when he recognises it’s his co-stars who’ve taken over the little bathroom. Taylor’s panic eases, thankful at least that he didn’t scare the life out of some poor fan on the toilet.
“Long way from the party,” Liev says, tapping ash from his cigarette into the sink. His gaze flicks to Hugh, standing close at his side. “Thought you’d locked that door.”
“Thought I had.” Hugh’s weight shifts; he’d turned just enough to see Taylor stumble in. His leg nudges up against the edge of the counter as he glances back to Liev. There’s an energy to him, not quite the same as the amped up buzz that’d been there at the main stage, the thrill of seeing the fans that he loved, but it’s just as palpable and oddly infectious.
“Caught you smoking in the little boy’s room,” Taylor says, grinning. The joke falls the slightest bit flat, the chuckle he gets out of Hugh far from the boisterous laugh that it might otherwise have earned. He feels suddenly like his first day at production, only the starstruck nerves had long-since faded, soothed away by Hugh’s ridiculous ability to make even the newest stagehand feel comfortable. But this, this feels like he’s interrupting and doesn’t know the secret password, like it’s not so much the boys’ room as the boys’ club.
“Red handed,” Liev says. The smile that tugs at his mouth flickers between rueful and amused.
A flush hits Taylor’s face with the impact of a tractor trailer going ninety when Liev hangs the cigarette on his lip and drops his hands and there’s the unmistakable sound of a zipper being done up. Shit. This is what he’s walked in on. “I, err, sorry, I’ll—” Taylor shakes his head but nothing more useful finds its way to his tongue and he looks down at where his hand had caught the door before it could swing shut. “I’ll go. I’ll go now.”
The cigarette is back in Liev’s hand when he says, “Stay if you’d like. I don’t mind.”
“Doesn’t what I think factor into the equation?” Hugh says, and there’s a faint tinge of embarrassment on his neck to match Taylor’s. It creeps up to redden his ears when Liev leans in and mumbles something too low for Taylor to catch.
“Look, sorry, I didn’t mean to interrupt.” The heat isn’t all in Taylor’s face, a good amount of blood busy redirecting itself low in his groin, making it obvious in a few slamming heartbeats that he might not have meant to interrupt but he’s really not all that sorry. Not at all, in point of fact, something he’s likely to explore later when he’s got a moment to wrap his head around the idea of his co-stars fucking and then wrap his hand around his dick.
“But here you are.” Liev shrugs, taking it in stride.
“Cat’s out of the bag, I reckon,” Hugh says, and it registers suddenly just how close he is to Liev, pressed up right up to Liev’s side. Handjob, Taylor guesses, and can’t help but look for a shine of spit on Hugh’s hand. “Liev’s right, stay if you’d like, but see if that lock will hold. Not big enough for four in here.”
“Jesus Christ.” The ringing in Taylor’s ears doesn’t lessen. He figures he has about two seconds to make up his mind, and it’s not just the alcohol in his system telling him it’d be stupid to walk out now. If he were a hundred percent straight, he’d have a reason, but Jesus fucking Christ, even if this is a dream he’d probably regret going back out into the hall when the invitation to join the party seems to be an honest one. Filming had been a blast, and he’d looked up to these guys, still does even though he’d gotten to know them well enough. So, hell, this isn’t a sleazy offer, he’s pretty sure if he walks out, that’s that, no hard feelings, just add a couple more guys onto the list who aren’t quite the straight shooters they have to be in the face of the gossip rags.
Liev and Hugh exchange a look that says Taylor’s two seconds have come and gone. His feet have cemented to the floor while his mind spins and goes nowhere fast. Everything, even his heartbeat, comes to a screeching halt when Hugh peels away from Liev’s side. Taylor’s gaze jumps down to Hugh’s fly, button and zip open and the rumpled front of his boxers showing. Maybe a step up from a handjob.
“It’s up to you,” Hugh says, in the same open tone of voice that he used on set the first time it was clear that Taylor was nervous acting opposite him. “Blow off a little steam before you go back out there….”
A dozen feet away, Liev watches, and a trail of red hot ants marches across Taylor’s back.
“In or out,” Hugh says. With one step, he’d be close enough to kiss.
“In,” Taylor breathes, and the slow spread of Liev’s grin sends a shiver through him.
“Maybe we should go out into the hall and have a really good time,” Liev says. After one last drag, he grinds his cigarette out in the sink and leaves it there. “Bet I could get you both off without anyone showing up or seeing a thing.”
“Maybe I told you one day you’d get us caught, so let’s not up the ante,” Hugh shoots back.
Time goes quick then slow, and Taylor feels like a fish on a hook as a shift in Hugh’s posture brings him the barest inch closer. They’re both looking at him, sizing him up in a way that they never had on set, and it’s as if they can tell that the puzzle pieces are tumbling through Taylor’s head, assembling together to form the picture he could’ve seen if he’d thought to look hard enough. They have an ease about them, and it’d been there long before. This little romp in the bathroom sure as hell isn’t a one time thing. Friends for a long time, Taylor remembers, and then he can’t think at all because Hugh’s hand cups over his groin, wide palm and long fingers framing the hardness of his cock.
And on Hugh’s face is this mischievous quirk of a smile, his eyes crinkling at the corners as he massages Taylor’s cock out of the awkward bend in the tight fit of his jeans to let it swell to fullness beneath the denim. All the strength drains out of his knees, his back falling against the door. The heel of his palm stays propped on the handle, the dig of it about the only thing that feels real.
“One way to keep the door shut,” Liev says. He moves up behind Hugh, hands settling comfortable and familiar on Hugh’s sides. He keeps his eyes on Taylor as he puts his mouth to Hugh’s neck, sucks tenderly until Hugh warns him about leaving a mark. Liev doesn’t seem particularly deterred, and a hot prickle goes through Taylor’s neck in roughly the same spot when Liev ignores the warning to raise faint marks on Hugh’s skin.
“Do you like having your dick sucked?” Hugh asks, sounding so very matter of fact that it somehow makes the question all the more dirty.
Taylor is too stunned to move, limbs turned stone. His nerves though are alive and buzzing when Hugh prompts him with a low sound and eases down his fly.
“Shit, yes,” he manages. Who doesn’t, he wants to ask but the question never makes it out of his throat. Hugh’s hand slips inside Taylor’s zip, fingers coaxing his dick out through the slit in his boxers.
“How about a dick in your mouth?” he asks.
It hasn’t happened all that often, but Taylor nods his head, already imagining the feel of a cock bumping past his lips, velvet soft and licked wet until it’s a hot easy slide against his tongue. God, tonight he’d be a slut for it if that’s what they wanted.
Liev whispers something into Hugh’s ear, a fresh grin stretching his mouth into a wicked shape. Hugh’s lips part as if he’s going to respond, but instead he leans forward, eyes searching Taylor’s for any hint of resistance before taking the kiss Taylor is immediately and desperately hungry for. It’s gentle, searching, a teasing nudge of lips on his that has him sucking in a quick breath and losing it through his nose a moment later. Liev’s hands have slid from Hugh’s sides, found Taylor’s waist and dragged down, feeling around to where Hugh is toying with him and then the slow tug on his cock firms, Liev guiding Hugh’s hand while murmuring encouragement against the slope of his shoulder.
“Use your tongue now,” Liev says, voice a step above a rough whisper. Taylor’s not sure what gets him harder: The glide of Hugh’s tongue running wet over his lip or the way Liev shifts enough to see it there. “Take his mouth, nice and easy, suck his lip between yours. Perfect. He taste like that cheap beer he was tossing back earlier? Now both lips.”
The words blur with the sensation, soft tug of his lip being enveloped between Hugh’s and then the scrape of teeth as Hugh tips his head, seals their mouths together for an instant but doesn’t deepen it. Taylor aches for the thrust of Hugh’s tongue and gets only what Liev had asked for, the almost bite as Hugh sucks at his mouth, his lips cushioned between Hugh’s, and finally a slow lick that delves teasingly into his mouth.
“You want to suck on something else, don’t you?” Liev’s hands have stopped guiding Hugh’s, kept busy somewhere else that Taylor can’t quite tell, not with the push of tongue against his own and the way Hugh moans a yes. “Had my cock out but never got a taste.”
Taylor feels the shudder that claims Hugh and through slitted eyes, he watches Liev pull Hugh’s shirt collar back and nip. Hugh’s mouth trembles against his and Taylor presses forward, tastes the desire there and shares in it.
“Are you really going to?” he asks, pulling away, grip finally sliding off the door handle with a loud metal twang that dumps adrenaline into his system for fear of discovery. His heart swells to fill the space of his lungs, straining with a vicious thumping beat, and the rhythm only speeds when Hugh pulls his hands away and sets them to the door on either side of Taylor’s shoulders.
“Really going to what?” Hugh prompts, the crinkling amusement back around his eyes.
“Suck your dick?” Liev says, a similar amused gleam in the shine of his whites. The curve of his eyebrow arches higher, just before he hauls Hugh back, hands on Hugh’s bared hips to bend him near double. Hugh’s hands skid down the door, damp palms squealing on the paint only to thump solidly into place bracketing Taylor’s hips.
“Jesus.” Taylor can’t keep his eyes off the span of Hugh’s back, shirt stretched tight over the breadth of it. Just beyond is the curve of Hugh’s ass, tan melting away to pale skin showing in slivers between the spread of Liev’s hands. There’s another question clinging at the front of Taylor’s brain as he wonders feverishly if this is going in the direction it seems to be heading. He catches a shift in movement, muscles of Hugh’s arms jumping as he props more of his weight on the door. It’s a miracle the poor thing isn’t groaning on its hinges holding both of them up.
“Might be changing my mind,” Hugh says, so very clearly a lie with the way his head dips down and warm breath rushes over the tip of Taylor’s cock.
If Taylor could take a snapshot of Hugh’s mouth hovering there, he would. Not to sell to the tabloids, no matter how much that’d earn, but because he still can’t believe this is happening. His vision wobbles for a second, dizzy like he’s just downed a fresh row of shots, and he can’t control the sound that pours out of him. A low shaky moan rips from his throat when Hugh blows a deliberate puff of air onto his cock, and Liev reaches out, fingers fanning over the back of Hugh’s skull to push him down.
“Quit teasing the kid,” Liev says, and Taylor has a second to agree before the head of his cock drags over Hugh’s cheek and then it’s a wet curl of tongue and pure fucking bliss.
Hugh is no stranger to this, clearly, and Taylor has to fight not to jerk his hips. Normally, he’d see how much he could get away with, fuck past the careful guard of lips over teeth to sink as deep into sweet, soft heat as his partner is willing to give. But this he doesn’t know how to deal with, can’t figure where to put his hands or if the sound choked in his throat should stay there or spill free as obscene as the look on Liev’s face. Something like a whine makes it into the air and Hugh’s encouraging moan and the sloppy lick that follows gets Taylor to slide his fingers into the short strands of Hugh’s hair. It slips like silk beneath his fingers as he pushes it back. Taylor doesn’t mean to treat Hugh like a porn star, but he can’t help it, the need to be able to see the push of his dick disappearing into Hugh’s mouth too strong to do anything else.
He’s so focused on it he misses the sound of Liev’s zip coming open again, and it’s only the shudder that overcomes Hugh that clues him in. Taylor’s gaze jumps instantly to the taper of Hugh’s back, the divots low on his spine and beyond to where Liev’s bare cock rides the cleft of his ass. Somehow he’d missed Hugh reaching back, the eager grip of his hand on the front of Liev’s pantleg.
“Both ends?” Liev asks, thumbs spreading Hugh’s asscheeks wide, showing off just the faintest bit of flushed skin amidst the curl of fine hairs. Taylor chokes when Hugh bucks demandingly against Liev and hums a very agreeable sound without ever pulling his mouth of Taylor’s cock.
“Both ends,” Taylor echoes, like saying it will make it seem less like a crazy dream. It doesn’t, at all, and it’s so damn hard to do anything but groan when Hugh wraps strong fingers around the base of his cock, holds it firm and really starts to suck.
He’s got his hand there for a reason, Taylor finds out, the riot in his system overloaded long before Liev rolls on a condom, lines it up and drives it home. Hugh’s mouth skids down, stops frustratingly short, and Taylor tears his gaze away to steal a look at Liev. Head cast down, furrow between his brows, Liev’s lost the same way Taylor had been. Long seconds pass before he senses the attention, and then Taylor’s eyes are locked to his and Liev’s pleasure-slack mouth pulls into another small smile. He takes solid hold of Hugh’s shirt, slams his hips in quick succession hard enough to shove Hugh forward onto Taylor’s cock each time, but with Hugh pushing back, fucking himself between them, there’s no rhythm to it.
The slippery desperate chaos of their bodies flattens Taylor’s back to the door, his hands gripping tighter in Hugh’s hair, holding him with the desire to bottom out thwarted by Hugh’s grip. It’s good though, having that clutch of fingers tight around him, staving off the pressure that has him ready to pop. He doesn’t even think about warning for it before he can’t avoid it any longer and he comes, all the air gone from his lungs in a single loud groan that drowns under the sound that Hugh makes. Mouth pulling off Taylor after a hasty swallow, there’s nothing to muffle the rising noises that Liev fucks out of him.
Taylor almost falls to a puddle, but his grip stays firm, and he’s free to eat up the flickering play of sensation across Hugh’s face. He sees it when the rhythm Liev settles into starts hitting all the right notes and Taylor’s guts get all twisted up wishing he’d been able to wait and feel the fine shivers that crawl through Hugh and get off on the way Liev urges him in a quiet voice to let go and come. And after a long span of seconds Hugh does, without a hand on him, just the steady push of Liev’s cock and Taylor’s shaky fingers in his hair to tip him over the edge.
“Fuck,” Taylor says, hardly more than a breath.
Hugh walks his hands up the door, back curved to press his chest against Taylor’s. Liev’s rhythm changes, stops entirely, and then Taylor is crushed under Hugh’s weight and the press of Liev behind him.
“Share another kiss for me,” Liev says, spitting on his cock before pushing back in on one long thrust. He grunts softly and slips an arm around Hugh’s chest to find his throat, skim fingers up the stretch of it and tip his head to Taylor’s.
Taylor doesn’t even think to protest, and the taste of his come still thick in Hugh’s mouth isn’t as bad as he would’ve expected. Hugh smiles into the laziness of the kiss, mouth going slack as soon as Liev’s thrusts turn purposeful, and then Taylor is busy swallowing a fresh rush of sound as Hugh’s kiss falters entirely, and he urges without words for Liev to find his release.
It’s over before Taylor’s ready for things to end, and every single twitch and shudder and sound from them seems to sink into his bones. Even after they pull away and Liev is stripping off the condom to flush it, the last few minutes are busy playing on a fast loop in Taylor’s head, triggering his nerves with echoes of a kiss or a touch.
Zipped up, clothes straightened, Liev shakes loose a second cigarette and holds out the pack. “Smoke?” he offers, and Taylor takes it gratefully.
“‘Bout time they’ll be expecting me,” Hugh says, the note of chagrin in his voice Taylor takes as guilt for ducking the crowd for so long. Something that, after a shared look, Taylor guesses neither he or Liev feel the least bit bad about from any angle.