Laura Stone (stoney321) wrote,
Laura Stone

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WEEE!! I made pretty boys get smooshy and nekkid!

I... My brain has been hijacked. I want all Ewan/Hayden all the time. Or Ani/Obi-Wan. ALL. THE. TIME. But I'm having a hard time finding fic of the same caliber as the writers I love on LJ in my circle. It isn't enough, people! So... I dove back into the world of RPS and wrote a little something. Want to hear it? Hear it goes:

Author: Stoney321
Title: The Wrath at Cannes
Rating: Adult - NC-17?
Pairing: Ewan McGregor/Hayden Christensen - RPS
Disclaimer: RPS is a dream, baby. A lovely, lovely, porny dream. But not real. That I *know* of.
Summary: influenced by the fantastic footage (it's real!! OMG - it's CANON!) of Ewan coming to Hayden in line at Cannes and planting a wet one on his happy, happy face. Mmmm. Can't let it end there, can we?
A/N: unbeata'ed, wrote with a quickness to please my winterlive. Um, did it? :-D

The Wrath at Cannes

Ewan quite enjoyed being European. Having spent a few years on set with several American actors and their masculinity issues, it was fantastic to be back in France where a man could still be a man even if he kissed his co-worker with a stiffy showing through his dress trousers. European men could kiss one another and not fret about their own manhood. American men, on the other hand, were absolutely adorable when those European men kissed them, cameras clicking away. Their shuddering when a tongue stole out to lick the corner of their mouth as lights popped all around them was fantastically sexy.

Ewan delighted in flustering his co-star and getting away with it. And when he was able to do it publicly, he reveled in it. After all, isn't that what big-shot movie stars did? Well, there was that really cool Johnny Depp fellow who didn't, but he used to get around on his sets before he met his French model and stopped all of that sordid behavior.

Ewan made a point of finding a seat in the theater with a view of Hayden after that kiss. He settled in two rows back and a few seats over so he could keep his eye on the boy. So he could smirk while watching the younger man secretly search the theater. So he could rub his hand over the front of his pants as he caught Hayden noticing him while doing the same.

Godammit, did George have to keep every scene? This is going to take forever.

After the showing and the applause, the upper echelon were allowed beyond the velvet ropes to the after-party. It took Ewan three passes to find someone who was serving anything other than champagne. Ah, Glenmorangie. And all the way into a corner of the ballroom, as if the bartender was ashamed of the brown liquid and was hiding behind some potted plants. Ewan got a bit homesick when the pungent liquid hit the back of his throat. Felt his breathing relax, slow. Let his eyes close for a brief moment. When he opened them, Hayden was standing in front of him so closely, in fact, that Ewan had to tilt his head back a bit or relinquish their close quarters.

"What do you think? Did you like it?"

Hayden grinned, "Could have been longer."

"Are you mad? I'd say it was quite long enough."

"Not the movie, dumbass." Hayden's grin spread to his eyes, then suddenly, he dropped his face to his glass and drank his beer quickly, long lashes hiding his bright eyes.

Ewan took note of the lack of revelers around them and leaned forward, letting his fingers tug on the front of Hayden's shirt to draw him closer and down to Ewan's mouth. Ewan traced his tongue over Hayden's full lower lip, gave it a nip, then let the boy go, grinning as he saw Hayden sway on his feet, eyes still at half-mast.

"Really, Hayden. Budweiser? Didn't I teach you anything about ale? For fuck's sake."

"Man, you have got to stop doing that! Anyone could see us."

"Let's just take care of that then, shall we? Top floor of the Ritz, not the Penthouse, though. Top floor of the public rooms. Number 1214. Lovely corner apartment. See you in a few."

Ewan drew a finger down and slightly under the button placket of Hayden's shirt, gave his waistband a tug, and then turned and left. He smiled and waived to the paparazzi lining the street wanting to catch a glimpse of any of the stars there for Cannes, scribbled his mark on a few pictures and T-shirts, laughed as a woman teared up and kissed his hand, then smiled and waved farewell as he climbed into his car. Once safe and moving, he lay back on the seat, hands scrubbing over his face, legs akimbo.

"It's about fucking time," he muttered to himself.

Due to his status, he was allowed a private entrance and elevator to his floor. He laughed to himself thinking of all the girls camped out in the foyer and how they would be crawling all over Hayden when he arrived. Damn. He might chicken out. Ewan punched a few numbers on his cell. Straight to voice mail. Fuck.

"Hayden, it's me. Listen. Go around to the side. There's a private elevator. I'll tell them to expect you. They are the very definition of discreet. See you in a few." A statement, not a question.

Ewan let his things fall off of him as he entered his suite. Shoes kicked off in a half-hop as he headed straight for the shower. With the water as hot as he could stand, and all four shower heads blasting over his body, he finally began to relax. It was as if the past several years were coming to a head. Quickly, he scrubbed himself clean, then remained in the shower as he heard a door open and Hayden thank the bellman. He lingered, hoping Hayden would take the bait. He kept one ear to the door and heard the tinkling of a glass, and the sound of the bed settling as someone sank onto it. Huh. Ewan shut the water off. Maybe this wasn't going to happen after all.

Not if I have anything to say about it.

Ewan came out of the shower, grabbed a towel, and walked into his suite, rubbing his chest dry. He made sure to pass close to the bed, then bend forward and retrieve his robe from the back of the chair where he left it earlier. He wanted Hayden to touch him, but that still didn't prepare him for the tentative fingertips that barely grazed the fine hairs of his backside, nor the cool air when they quickly pulled back.

"I... I'm a little drunk, dude."

Ewan stood and turned towards the bed. Hayden was sitting on the edge, leaning back and resting on his elbows, shirt unbuttoned, skinny, black tie loose around his neck, hair rumpled. His eyes were fighting to stay open, and appeared to be losing. Hayden was a very good actor, with the right material. Ewan took a step so that he was positioned between the boy's legs. Ewan brought the towel up to his head and rubbed his hair dry, body completely exposed. He didn't fail to notice Hayden's eyes widen slightly.

"Are you now? See, I don't think you are, yet. Then again, I'm Scots, so we don't think a man's drunk if he can still grab the floor." He tossed the towel about his shoulders, hands gripping the ends. "Hayden."

Hayden let his arms slide out and crashed back onto the bed, one arm coming up and draping over his eyes. "Fuck, man. What?"

The bed shifted slightly with Ewan's weight. "Hayden."


"Your turn"

Hayden's eyes squeezed tightly shut. "W-what?"

"Kiss me."

"Man, what are we doing?"

Ewan let his fingertips trace down the hardness lying slightly canted to the zipper of Hayden's trousers. When he saw Hayden shift and press his hips down and then slightly upwards against the teasing pressure of Ewan's hand, he spoke again, making sure his long bangs tickled the boy's ear as he spoke, "Hayden."

The smallest of noises. Not quite a gasp, not quite an "oh." The fingertips pressed more firmly, then more gently and they traced their path lower, making small circles. Hayden kept his eyes closed, but let his arm slide off his face, fingers grazing naked, warm flesh. Ewan shifted so his head was closer, bangs tickled ruddy cheeks. Warm breath caressed full, red lips. "Hayden."

The small noise was definitely an "uh." Ewan leaned closer and let his lips skim the tiny puckering of skin at the corner of Hayden's mouth. "Hayden."

Gentle pressure upwards, a hand slid up and behind Hayden's skull, fingertips grazing on the freshly shaved neck and up into the long, slightly wavy hair. The gentle, teasing of Ewan's lips increased their pressure. When Ewan felt a tongue trace the edge of his teeth and stroke his own tongue, he put his weight on both hands to the sides of Hayden's shoulders, holding the boy's head. A leg slid over trousers, thigh muscle flexed over cock, rubbing, sliding, until a naked thigh trapped trousered legs between. Exposed hardness stroked upwards against the silken material, a body strained with the effort of tracing the outline of the boy's cock with his own. Unsure hands reached up and around to grip and then squeeze. Kisses deepened, breathing came in gasps, nips taken are at times gentle, at times meaning to draw blood. Thumbs and fingers soothed away the worst of the bites.

Ewan breathed into Hayden's mouth, "More." He rest his forehead against Hayden's, rocked up as the boy traced fingertips over long lashes, hands moved to travel down and unbuckle pants. Hips rose, pressing bodies together as two sets of hands reached for trousers and briefs, Ewan's foot taking them the remaining distance so his hands could hold Hayden again.

"I... Man, I-"

"Shhh." A kiss to silence, fingertips over skull to soothe, lips on the hollow between collarbones to encourage. Ewan lingered, tongue traced circles to be kissed away. Hands in his hair, gentle at first, gripping and pressure, then gentle again. Ewan settled himself between Hayden's legs and slid downward, fingers raking through trimmed curls. A shuddery gasp from Hayden as a rough tongue traced the distance from base to tip, an exhale as Ewan took him in with fingers outside of his mouth in an O.

Hands no longer gripped Ewan's hair, trying to hold on, maybe to stop this. They began to stroke it, move through it. Ewan laid his left hand flat against the hard belly above him, thumb working back and forth through the fine down. Hayden covers it with his own. Hayden gasped as Ewan began to move up and down more quickly; Ewan's hand left Hayden's to knead and tug gently below. A thumb slipped away and traced tender skin behind. Slipped into a new, secret place. Suddenly as it appeared it's gone only to be wetted in Ewan's mouth, then returns. Hayden gasped and half sits up to cradle Ewan's head loosely in his arms.

Ewan smiled briefly, and swirls his tongue over the tip, then sucked back down hard, his other hand continuing to pump along with his mouth, but with a slight twist and squeeze. The secret thumb moved in and out in time with his other actions.

Hayden began to shake, then stiffened suddenly as he climaxed. As Ewan swallows, his mouth tightened over the boy and the friction elicits a low moan. Ewan snaked two arms around Hayden's narrow waist and rest his cheek against the hard belly there, chuckling to himself as Hayden continued to quake slightly. Hayden rocked him gently, muttering. Ewan pulled back a bit and hears that Hayden is repeating, "Fuck. Me."

Ewan pulled away completely, and sat back on his knees, running his hands through his hair. His comfortably cocky grin spread across his face as he replied, "Oh, I plan on it. That was your turn. Now it's mine."

~TBC, right here, in fact
Tags: ewan-hayden, fic, rps

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  • Sorry not sorry

    Agents of S.H.I.E.L.D. is really bad. Not "Sharknado" bad (because that's so bad it's good) but commits the worse crime of being boring. Of being…

  • THANKyouforcalingInnitech. JUSTamoment.

    Get it? Because someone has a case of the Mondays. Hurr. I sent Miss Emily off to Science Camp for the week, and it was so cute to see all of the…

  • SPAM. Whatever, no one else is posting.

    OH HEY, BOX OFFICE MAGAZINE, THANK YOU! (for the lazy non-clickers: one of the 5 films you have to watch this Halloween? BLOOD ON THE HIGHWAY. Oh,…