Long Odds

Ocean’s 11. Danny/Rusty. R. 500 words.

“The rumour is you’re getting married.”

Long Odds

“The rumour is you’re getting married.”

“Didn’t you get the invitation?”

“Tess must’ve lost the address.”

“Must’ve. How were the guys?”

“Bored.”

“Cell?”

“Small.”

“Enough foreplay?”

Rusty’s head tilted a few degrees to the left. The hotel hallway lights cast a warm yellow sheen on the pale satin monstrosity masquerading as a shirt. His grip shifted on the bag he carried. Somewhere on the floor a room service cart clattered. “You treat all the girls this way?”

“Only the ones I haven’t seen for a while.” Danny took his hand off the door. It swung inwards on its weight. He rolled his shoulder against the frame giving Rusty enough room to push past, his eyes tracking as Rusty dropped a small duffel bag on the luggage rack.

“You don’t think this’ll turn into another…” Rusty turned and held up a hand, fingers spread and palm stretched smooth.

Danny kicked the door shut with his foot. In two steps he had Rusty’s wrist in a loose grip. He tugged Rusty closer and cocked an eyebrow. “You mean with the-”

“Yeah, with the-”

“Only if you don’t remember to wash your hands.”

“Or we could eat first.”

“We could,” Danny mumbled, words a mess when his tongue was busy exploring the new tattoo curling dark around Rusty’s forearm. “But-”

“Yeah, I know,” Rusty said. He worked at the buttons on Danny’s shirt. Danny returned the favour until the distraction of kissing. Rusty tasted fresh and new, the familiarity all in the shape of his mouth, the response of his tongue, the way he shivered and managed to make such a rough, low laugh sound boyish when Danny’s hands skidded up towards his underarms.

“Married,” Rusty said. His shoes thumped as he kicked them away. “Huh.”

“No one is more surprised than I am.”

“I can’t believe she said yes.”

“What can I say, I’m charming.”

“I can’t believe she was stupid enough to say yes. I always thought she was such a sharp girl.” Rusty lay back on the bed, shirt pooling like liquid around him as his body pulled into one long invitation of its own.

“Even the best of us-” Danny narrowed his eyes. “You don’t have a tux, do you.”

“I don’t have a tux,” Rusty admitted.

Danny’s hand rested at the juncture of Rusty’s thigh, his fingers fanned over the flat angles of Rusty’s hip. A light graze of his thumb sent Rusty’s lashes fluttering. He brushed his nail against the base of Rusty’s cock again to watch another shiver of pleasure race across Rusty’s face.

“Ordered you one already. The fitting is at ten o’clock tomorrow.”

“You were betting that I was going to make parole,” Rusty said. His hand slid under the waist of Danny’s slacks, pausing close enough that Danny struggled not to twist and force himself into the touch. “And that I was going to show up if I did.”

“Even the best of us,” Danny mumbled, sealing his mouth over Rusty’s.

*

End

2 thoughts on “Long Odds

  1. Sam

    The “Enough foreplay?” line made me stop and wonder whether Danny meant enough forplay for *them*, or if he was referring to prison sex.

    Quite sad almost that it’s the best Ocean’s 11 fic I read even when it’s 500 words long, all from their easy communication to Danny’s subtly overblown ego

  2. Pond Post author

    Mwehe. Double entendres for the win.

    You should really check out the Yuletide archive for O11 fic, as there are some damn good stories in there! I highly recommend surfing over and giving it a look through.

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