Author: Guede Mazaka
It does hurt later. The welts on Gavin’s back aren’t all that bad as long as he keeps pressure off of them, but the ones on the inside of his thighs slither and prickle no matter how he sits. Lean forward, lean back, it’s all wincing and turning that into a smile quick for the flashing lightbulbs. Earlier he’d spent damn near twenty minutes trying to pick out a pair of trousers that wouldn’t chafe but that wouldn’t get the PR handlers mouthing off at him, and he can still feel every rasp, like Keanu had promised.
After the first night, they’d been so busy that they’d more or less just seen each other in the press conference room. Nod, mutter something about the food, and then Gavin’s so busy trying to get himself into the chair without whimpering that he’d barely got enough time to note that yeah, Keanu’s gone without shaving again. He’s not all that sure why—Keanu was scrupulous on the set. Maybe that was because Constantine wasn’t supposed to have stubble, but Keanu even kept it up on the weekend when most other guys, like Gavin, let that go.
Gavin’s not really sure why he keeps noticing this either, except that maybe he’s got a mild case of synesthesia because Keanu’s cheeks look like what Gavin’s inner thighs feel like. Well, not quite as bad today. About four days to rest up and call Gwen, get used to the whole surreally enjoyable dream situation in which he’s somehow landed himself, and he’s starting to feel up to things, like nicely answering the fifteenth reporter who’s asked whether he played guitar on set. “Not if the cameras were rolling, obviously. But I had a spare in my hotel room. I did a little bit—when I wasn’t bone-tired. We have some really physical scenes and Francis wanted to get it just right.”
“Yeah,” Keanu says. He’s slouching back in his seat, dressed down in jeans, and his eyes are narrowed.
Beneath the table Gavin’s suddenly rubbing hard on the inside of his legs and thinking oh, Christ, not now and God, it has been four days it’s about time, and it’s a damn good thing Keanu looks away to charm the reporter right then.
“Yeah. We’re adversaries—we’ve got a lot of intense history between us.” The room titters obligingly as Keanu’s tone sets up the joke, and right on cue a few minutes later, he’s got them all belly-laughing.
Gavin lets out a deep breath and takes a long sip from his cup of water. He almost wishes it were something stronger, like whiskey, but then again, if he gets drunk he might do something stupid like get down between Keanu’s knees and take care of that slouch that’s been nagging at him for a while.
The water’s still pretty cold. He drains the whole cup and crunches the last sliver of ice between his teeth. It’s not exactly a shower, but he can deal. By now he’s a professional at publicity junkets.
He can’t fucking wait till this conference is over. It’s the last one they have for three days, and he’s already toured a couple times in this city so he’s not too interested in anything that lies outside of his hotel room. But Christ, isn’t he being presumptuous? He hasn’t even asked Keanu yet. He’s getting clammy palms just wondering how he’s supposed to ask, frankly; they haven’t exactly gone over that bit since Keanu just…keeps beating him to the maneuvering part. He’s making terrible puns.
“Last question,” warns one of the suits standing behind him, Francis and Keanu.
Thankfully, the last one’s mostly for Francis. Wonderful guy, terribly in love with his graphics team, he keeps them all occupied while Keanu sneaks some candy from a suit and Gavin surreptitiously shifts around on his arse some more. He presses his knuckles into his thighs, thinking maybe what pain needs to kill it is more pain, and of course that’s stupid logic. That just makes him bite on his lip and dart a sideways glance to see if anyone’s caught him at it.
Keanu. Keanu raises an eyebrow, then looks meaningfully at one of the backdoors. Gavin has the sneaking suspicion he might be flushing a little. Well, good—he can excuse himself by saying he needs a little air.
And that’s exactly what he needs, and that’s how he ends up in a grayish service corridor, waiting nervously between a stack of silver-edged black storage chests like the newest groupie in the world. He fiddles with his cell phone: a couple calls from the studio, a text message from Gwen saying she was going out for the night. Nothing to really distract him till a trail of smoke drifts through the door.
After it saunters Keanu, just finishing up his cigarette. He tosses it in a nearby trashcan and stops just short of Gavin, rolling his shoulders and massaging his neck. “Ah, Friday. I thought it’d never come.”
“I know. I should really go out and keep up the rock-star reputation, but I’m so worked over that I think I’ll just stay in,” Gavin says. He pulls at his sleeves till some of the…well, they’re not bruises, really. Not dark enough, but they’re sore and a little puffy if he runs his fingers over them, and a little bit reddish.
“Stupid idea. We get some ridiculously bad movies, fire up the popcorn, and get butter all over the bed.” The slantwise look Keanu gives Gavin is so believably clueless that Gavin buys it. But then Keanu’s laughing beneath his breath, friendliness slipping away to reveal somebody that can back Gavin into the wall just with the force of his stare.
Ow. “Ow,” Gavin mutters, reaching around to rub at his back. He smiles hesitantly at Keanu’s feet, which are moving closer. Stopping when their toes are touching. “How are we getting butter all over the bed?”
“Well,” and Keanu’s voice is smoky and possessive, his breath laced with the burnt prickle of nicotine. His hands come out, then flip so it’s the backs of them he drags up the front of Gavin’s thighs. He goes to Gavin’s waistband, picks teasingly at that and then presses down, thumbs dragging along the inseams so Gavin’s suddenly digging his nails into the wall, breath coming hard. “I’m guessing your ass is feeling fine now. Back’s still giving it to you—what about here?”
His thumbs slash hard and fast right along the edge of the welts lashing Gavin’s thighs, transforming their mild ache to full-fledged burn. Gavin’s eyes snap shut, then flutter a little open so his view of the world’s a sliver of Keanu’s shirt cut up by his lashes. “Um. That’s—there’s still…still…”
Keanu lifts one hand to Gavin’s chin and tips it up, gently commanding, and Gavin trembles through the kiss. His hands are flat on the wall and he’s not going anywhere till Keanu says. Hell, if Keanu wanted to stab him right now, Gavin wouldn’t be able to do a thing to stop him.
The kiss gets harder, deeper, and then Keanu suddenly breaks off, dropping his head to the side. His hand’s still stroking along Gavin’s jaw and he doesn’t look upset, which is a little reassuring. Actually, he looks a little shaky. “Goddamn. You really need to stop doing that where people can walk in on us. And I told myself up and down I wasn’t going to put you in bed for the whole weekend…”
“Do what?” Because as far as Gavin can tell, he hasn’t been doing a damn thing.
Keanu stares at him for a second. Then he shakes his head, smiling like he’s just embarrassed himself, and curls his hand around the back of Gavin’s neck. Gives it just enough of a shake-tug to get them towards the door before his hand slides off to swing easily by his hip. “Never mind. You do go for butter, right? We can get substitute, maybe, but I’ve never found one that was all that great…”
“No, butter’s fine,” Gavin says. He’s still catching his breath. “So how’s the leather version coming along?”
“What?” Blinking, Keanu cocks his head.
Gavin lets himself grin a little bit. He doesn’t answer in words, but just lifts his hand to run it around his neck.
Comprehension dawns in Keanu’s face. Then his eyes narrow and he cuts across Gavin so even though the hallway’s yards wide, Gavin’s forced up against the wall. There’s the slightest touch of stiff short hair as Keanu’s cheek grazes his lips. A quick strip of burn from Gavin’s shoulder to his knee as their bodies slide by each other, and then Keanu’s strolling on, hands tucked in his pockets and whistling like he hasn’t just paralyzed Gavin against the wall. Goddamn probably is the right word.
* * *
“So we have a choice between old-school horror and…” Gavin leans against the bathroom door and has himself a nice, long look. He has to remind himself not to crumple up the list of movies they can order up on the TV.
Keanu’s braced one hand on the edge of the sink and is twisting himself around to scrape at the last patch of frothy stubble. The rest of his face is gleaming with that slight roughness that only comes from freshly-shaven skin, and it makes Gavin’s fingers itch. So does Keanu’s lack of a shirt, but that’s a little different.
“And…” Keanu prompts. The razor glides off and he bends over the sink, rinsing it out under the faucet. After about a minute, he gets tired of waiting for Gavin to remember that yes, conversations require two people talking, and takes a look. Then he takes another look at Gavin, some idea springing into his eyes. A smile snakes over his face as he rubs over his face with a towel. “I knew I forgot something. I’ve got this antique straight razor—very useful. But left that at home.”
There’s no point in asking what for because now Keanu’s standing up and pinning Gavin against the doorframe, hands roaming confidently from chest to belly and then downwards so Gavin groans into Keanu’s mouth. He puts his hands on Keanu’s shoulders and belatedly remembers the list when the paper crunches out of his fingers, but Keanu is laving at the pulse in his neck so he can’t really care. Keanu’s hands press at his thighs and Gavin starts to spread his knees, but he’s not got enough support so he starts to teeter; he backs up farther against the frame so it’s making the crease of his arse even deeper. Hurts a little because of how it’s grinding against his tailbone. Hurts also when Keanu just grabs onto his thigh, digging fingertips hard into the bruising so Gavin’s breath catches. He’s held there while Keanu’s other hand goes wandering, looping over the rising bulge of his prick and then cupping his crotch.
Hot hunger permeates Keanu’s voice. “Use it right here…” he murmurs, rubbing the heel of his hand hard and slow over Gavin’s prick and balls. “Have you limping less but remembering longer. If, you know, you would let me and a straight razor get down there.”
“Christ,” is all Gavin says. He clings harder to his handholds on Keanu’s shoulder and buries his face in Keanu’s neck, licking and sucking like his life depends on it.
“But I forgot it. Too bad.”
Something makes a muffled clicking. Then Gavin’s waistband sags slightly as Keanu slides off his belt. Keanu’s still got that one hand on his thigh, shifting his grip every so often so the burn never quite settles into something that’ll sink out of Gavin’s attention, but his other hand’s avoiding all attempts to get it back on Gavin’s prick. It gets Gavin’s fly undone and his trousers pushed half-down his hips without much more than damnably frustrating butterfly touches.
And then Keanu lets go. He pecks Gavin between the eyebrows and leaves Gavin hanging slackly from the doorframe while he picks up the list Gavin dropped. “Oh, Romero. You feel like zombies?”
At first Gavin hears you feel like a zombie and he’s about to agree with an empathetic yes. Then his mind catches up to him and he’s raggedly gulping air as he holds up his trousers. “Sure. Popcorn’s on the floor—buttery bedsheets are hell to sleep on.”
Keanu tosses him an amused look over one shoulder, Gavin’s belt swinging from one hand. “You speaking from experience?”
“Well, yeah. This one time—” Gavin starts to admit. He stops because Keanu’s eyes have flicked down to his trousers, which he’s stupidly pulling back up.
“Off,” Keanu says. He turns around and flops onto the bed.
Gavin hesitates, then slides his trousers the rest of the way off and hesitantly steps out of them. The cool air hits his legs and squirms against the recently-awakened prickle on the inside of his thigh so he almost wants to walk bowlegged. It’s a weird feeling, going around without anything on his lower half; it’s still half-dressed, but when he’s going shirtless, he doesn’t feel quite so…exposed. His shirt’s a buttondown that doesn’t exactly cover his arse in back, and in front his prick is starting to poke up between the tails. By the time he gets to the bed, he knows he’s blushing.
He gets one hand on the mattress before Keanu reaches out and pulls him the rest of the way, pulling till Gavin’s half-flopped on top of him. Bare skin and firm muscle beneath Gavin’s hands that are still itching to play, and far be it from him to deny them. Nor does it seem like it’s in Keanu’s agenda, since he seems happy to let Gavin paw at him while he fiddles with the remote. “These things always have too many buttons.”
“It might help if you weren’t trying to do it upside-down,” Gavin laughs. He wriggles down so he can rest his chin on Keanu’s collarbone, feather his fingers over the fresh-shaven planes of Keanu’s face.
They’re tender. Once Gavin accidentally catches his nail on Keanu’s skin and Keanu hisses, tenses up. But Gavin’s going stiff and cold, and has to will himself to stroke apologetically over the spot. After a moment, Keanu relaxes and nuzzles at Gavin’s fingertips. Then he goes back to squinting at the remote. “Yeah, you can’t do this upside-down.”
So he rolls them over so Gavin’s stuck beneath him, knees sprawling on either side of Keanu who’s still wearing jeans. The denim rasps at Gavin, rough unyielding fabric moving over his prick. Some of the pocket studs dig into Gavin’s hips, straight through Gavin’s shirt, and as Keanu rocks around, some of them slide hard over his thighs. He hisses, squirms, and one corner of Keanu’s mouth flips up as the man deliberately grinds his hip against Gavin.
The TV’s making weird beeping noises. Gavin’s making little whimpering sounds and propping himself up on his elbows to lick at Keanu’s nipple. In return he gets a nice long press and he licks harder. Curls his tongue around and around it till it hardens, doesn’t let him squeeze it back into the surrounding flesh anymore.
“Got it.” Thud as the remote drops to the floor, and then Keanu’s pulling Gavin back by the hair. He gives Gavin a short shake. “Enough of that.”
Though Gavin manages to get in a little more while Keanu’s fishing up a handful of popcorn, and Keanu’s reprimands are half-hearted. Soon as Keanu’s hand is within reach, Gavin leans over to lick up some of the salty buttery streaks already dribbling down it. “We’re going to make a mess a—”
Crunch. Mouthful of popcorn, which Gavin has to chew on and swallow or else he’ll choke. He’s distracted because Keanu is damned good at doing that, and apparently Gavin’s a bit slow at learning Keanu’s tricks, because leather hisses around his arms and when he’s done eating, he’s staring at his bound wrists.
Keanu plays with the end, bending it up to tickle at Gavin’s nose. Then he uses it to pull in Gavin so he can take his time cleaning off Gavin’s mouth and chin with his tongue. Gavin moans, chases Keanu’s mouth but never quite gets it. He shifts up onto one elbow as best as he can, trying to follow Keanu as the other man leans away, and Keanu slides his fingers into Gavin’s hair again to hold him back. But even then Gavin can’t stop trying, blindly eager like a baby bird.
“That’s what you were waiting for,” Keanu says, half under his breath and half to Gavin.
Somebody screams and they both jump, but it’s just the movie. It doesn’t take long for Gavin to relax again, curled into Keanu like he is. Weird as it is, he is more comfortable like this. No overwhelming sensations to keep him from thinking himself into a nervous wreck, but somehow he’s managing to avoid doing that anyway. Slow and peaceful does have something to recommend it, after all.
“Well, four days.” Gavin shrugs and lies down. He briefly rises again to let Keanu get an arm around his waist, then sprawls.
“And believe me, I wasn’t all that happy about that, either. Junkets are such a pain sometimes.” Keanu’s watching the movie now, occasionally swinging down an arm to snag some popcorn. He drops a puff into Gavin’s mouth whenever Gavin nudges him, lets Gavin suck the butter off his fingers with a slight but definitely self-satisfied smile on his face.
His hand’s drawing light circles on the small of Gavin’s back. Occasionally it wanders lower to get a handful of Gavin’s arse; the first few times, Gavin’s shifting awkwardly and blushing into the mattress without really understanding why. Then he realizes what’s so familiar about this whole set-up: he and Gwen can spend hours like this, just curled up and snickering to each other. Only of course he’s usually the one lounging in trousers, and Gwen’s the one in only a shirt.
He needs this, he decides. He wants this to keep going and for that to happen, it’s got to get to that kind of level. Not that the mindblowing frenzied sex has already gotten stale for him—God, no, and Gavin’s prick is still begging for some more action—but it’s got to have something else behind it. And trust Keanu to pick up on that before Gavin even did. “I didn’t know you liked Romero’s stuff,” Gavin says.
“I always had a thing for apocalyptic worlds. Just look at my résumé sometime,” Keanu laughs at himself. His hand rubs down Gavin’s left buttock and slips in till his fingertips are petting the back of Gavin’s balls.
“Saw Johnny Mnemonic. You were so…cute. All round-cheeked and everything.” Teasing as Gavin sounds, he’s the one wriggling around in growing frustration. He presses back against Keanu’s hand, but all he gets is a fingernail running back from his balls, cutting along the thin strip till it’s glided right over the puckered hole and he’s hissing in disappointment. “I wanted to get you in a head-lock and fuzz that crewcut you had.”
The scrunched face Keanu makes would be priceless, except for the fact that he’s pushed his hand up beneath Gavin’s shirt to pinch hard at Gavin’s nipple. Gavin twists and Keanu grabs the belt-end again, yanks him back. Throws a leg over him and forces him still while his nipple is deftly worked into painful throbbing. It feels like he’s got a red-hot coal set into that side of his chest, and he’s sucking his breath through gritted teeth but he can never get enough. His prick twitches every time Keanu gives his nipple a twist, its tip grazing Keanu’s leg so that’s a torment too. But when Gavin presses forward, hoping for some friction, Keanu shifts back. And back.
“Have some popcorn?” Keanu blandly asks, holding up a few pieces.
Gavin’s breathless and half-melted. He kept rolling over so now his hips are grinding mindlessly into the mattress, but of course he’s not going to get enough pressure that way. “You’re such a cocktease.”
And then, dark and breathy and hot against Gavin’s ear, “Hey.” Keanu’s lips press softly against that dependable weak spot just beneath Gavin’s jaw. “I never tease without following through. Eventually.”
“How about making that a little sooner?” Gavin gasps. He pulls at his wrists, but Keanu’s still got the end. His nipple’s aching badly and the touch of his shirt against it is maddening, but he can’t stretch his hands far enough to undo any of the buttons.
Keanu’s not letting him, that is. He whines and sucks at the edge of Keanu’s jaw, but all he gets when he scoots forward is air.
“Keanu,” Gavin pleads.
And Keanu leans forward and sucks soft and slow at his bottom lip. Glides a hand down Gavin’s front and keeps going till he’s circling the head of Gavin’s prick with a fingertip. “Do you really want it to be that easy?”
Yes, of course, what a stupid question. But that’s what Gavin’s mind babbles. What Gavin actually does is bend his head beneath Keanu’s voice and shiver, a long low small noise slipping from his mouth. He jerks his hips forward and yes, there’s the fingers going around it, but they hold it loosely, make him do all the work. “Please?”
There’s a catch of breath above him, almost drowned out by growling from the TV. “Definitely never gagging you. You sound way too good like this.”
“Please?” Gavin repeats, crawling forward. He kisses the underside of Keanu’s jaw, tracks his mouth slowly along Keanu’s neck. He can feel Keanu’s pulse jumping, but there’s no movement towards him. So he presses his mouth against the hollow at the base of Keanu’s throat, scrapes his teeth there and then Keanu’s hand comes up to caress the back of Gavin’s neck. “Christ—please?”
He reaches for Keanu’s prick, but Keanu’s not letting his hands go that far. All right, well, Gavin can probably stretch. And he can lean down far enough to just flick his tongue against the tip, but that makes his prick slide out of Keanu’s hand so Gavin’s groaning, trying to fuck the mattress of all things, and suckling at the head of Keanu’s prick because he really needs to convince Keanu now.
A hand runs back and forth across his back, following the welts and he arches into it even as he’s dropping Keanu’s prick from his mouth so he can bite at the sheets. “Sssss…oh, fuck. Please, please, please.”
“Please what?” At least now Keanu’s moving, pulling Gavin around so his arse is facing Keanu and yes, Gavin’s so far gone now that he’s plumping it back at Keanu and never mind how whorish that must look.
“Fuck me. God, please.” Four words, four flat hisses that claw their way out of Gavin’s tight throat. He’s pushing back and God, yes, finally, and never mind where the hell Keanu got whatever’s slicking his fingers into Gavin’s arse. Just mattered that they’re prying him apart, working him till his knees skid clumsily apart and he goes face-first into the mattress.
And then there’s a warm wet thing coiling around Keanu’s fingers, running around the edge where Gavin’s flesh is straining to clutch at Keanu’s knuckles, and Gavin just bites down. He goes stiff and when Keanu forces his tongue in alongside his fingers, Gavin goes stiffer and he knows that’ll make it hurt all the more when Keanu jerks them out but he can’t help it.
It burns and he whimpers, going completely slack just as Keanu’s lifting his hips again, and to Keanu’s prick he can’t offer any resistance. He digs his nails into the mattress and feels his hips unhinge, feels himself coming apart in Keanu’s hands, and it’s unfair but he can’t hold back. He can’t and he comes till his vision goes black.
Gavin doesn’t entirely pass out. It’s like having on a blindfold, and having a little bit of cotton stuffed in his ears. He can’t see, his hearing turns everything rough and low—his senses snap down to three. He can smell his come, he thinks, and there’s the salt of their sweat and a trace of the butter-roast of the popcorn threaded through everything so he’s fooled into thinking he can lick it. Ends up dragging his tongue along the sheets, tasting their staleness while Keanu fucks him hard and harder. And Gavin’s hips want to fall, he wants to go limp but Keanu’s prick keeps driving into him, forcing him to push back. Push, pull, push, pull—his muscles are already lost causes and now they’re shredding. He clutches at them, wills them together for a little longer. Somehow he catches up on his breath a little. Even feels heat begin to repool low in his groin, pulse into his prick.
His vision shreds back, a little bit at a time, and he’s seeing color again by the time Keanu finally whips himself into a climax. By then Gavin’s a little less than half-hard, though his limbs are all shaking uncontrollably. The moment Keanu’s out, Gavin is flat on the mattress, boneless and panting for breath.
“My God,” Keanu says breathlessly. “It keeps getting better.”
He rolls back after a second to drape his arm over Gavin, who’s grinning madly into the messy sheets. It’s awkward trying to get all the stickiness mopped up since his wrists are tied, but he doesn’t mind too much. He leaves the trails dribbling from his arse alone for the moment. “I think we can watch the movie now.”
“What? Oh. Oh, right.” Keanu lets his head loll till he can see the screen. He snickers and gives Gavin’s arse a light slap. “Smartass.”
Gavin flinches, then moans because that sent vibrations through his body on top of the aftershocks. The hand on his back starts moving, diving over his hip and beneath him; Keanu lets out an incredulous snort when he feels Gavin’s erection.
“Not till the damn movie’s over this time,” he mutters. “My favorite part’s coming up.”
“Really?” says Gavin’s mouth. Gavin himself is preoccupied with Keanu’s hand, which has slipped back between his thighs and is scraping up the come. Then it leaves and a second later Keanu is holding his hand at Gavin’s mouth.
He sucks in each finger individually, laving his tongue over the knuckles and running it into every crevice. Licks in broad strokes over the back of Keanu’s hand, nips lightly at each fingertip when he’s done.
“Really.” Without warning, Keanu shoves three fingers back into Gavin’s arse. He kisses Gavin’s temple when Gavin slumps back onto the mattress, then turns to the TV. His fingers are moving so slowly—so damned slowly, and Gavin’s so tired he can’t move himself. “So be patient, all right?”
Gavin can’t answer. He’s too busy making desperate little begging noises.
Keanu leans over and gives his slackly open mouth a messy kiss. “Good. Just like that.”