FIC: Therapy (EM/EB, R), for ![[livejournal.com profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/external/lj-community.gif)
50kinkyways
Mar. 9th, 2006 07:52 pm![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
salixbabylonTitle: Therapy
Author:![[livejournal.com profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/external/lj-userinfo.gif)
heartofslash
Fandom: RPS
Characters: Ewan McGregor/Eric Bana
Prompt: 28. Dominant
Word Count: 1927
Rating: R
Author's Notes: There are two sides to every story. Companion piece to Breaking the Rules bysalixbabylon.
Therapy
Eric knows he's been a bit of an arse all week. It's the stunt coordinator's fault - he's got no faith in Eric at all. He treats him like a child. No respect for Eric's skills, his experience. So Eric's in a bad mood.
And he's getting no support on the home front.
Ewan knows how trying this week has been. Ewan knows how much the arsehole is pissing Eric off, but he refuses to cut Eric any slack. Ewan actually told Eric it was his own damn fault in the first place. Not an ounce of sympathy. In fact, he's been downright pissy.
And this from the man who whinges every single day about how his contract forbids him to ride his bike until principal photography is completed.
Well, Eric's not up for that today. He's not taking any more shit, not after all he's had to put up with on set.
Although, Ewan is kind of sexy when he gets all bitchy like that. He gets this superior look on his face and that holier-than-thou attitude brings out the fire in his eyes like nothing else.
It's kind of fun to bring that out just a bit more, enough so Ewan sets his jaw and does that thing where he purses his lips together. More prissy than pissy, but it makes Eric think about doing things that'll make that jaw relax and open in a loud moan...
"You're being a right bitch, mate," Ewan says. "If you want to work some of this off, go and get your collar. If not, get out of my house; I'm not taking this shit any longer."
That wasn't exactly what Eric had in mind. Ewan doesn't do that really sexy moan when he's formally topping. But nothing says that particular moan is the only way to get Ewan's jaw to relax.
Eric grumbles a bit, swears, gives the end of the couch a kick.
He doesn't know if he wants the collar. What he'd really like is to find someone to go ten rounds with him. Beat the crap out of someone. Or have the crap beat out of himself. But he's not allowed to do that until principal photography is completed.
Subbing will have to suffice. Not that there's anything wrong with subbing. Giving up the control means having to give up the angry, which would be healthy at this point. So maybe... maybe giving up control on purpose would be a bit... therapeutic.
"You're right," he says, and he peels off his shirt because there's no sense in letting Ewan think he's holding all the cards. He knows damn well what his naked pecs do to Ewan's sense of dominance.
His collar is in the top drawer beside Ewan's bed. For some reason, Ewan keeps it close. In case of emergency, Eric supposes. He fingers the leather. Lifts it to his face. Takes a deep breath. Loves the smell of the leather.
He holds the collar out to Ewan. It's his job to put it on, not Eric's.
"Do you want this?" Ewan asks impatiently.
Of course Eric wants this; he wouldn't be holding out the collar if he didn't want it. But Ewan isn't taking it from him with his usual certainty. Eric's not entirely sure if Ewan wants this, and if Ewan's not into it, things could turn ugly.
Then Ewan closes his eyes and breathes deeply. Oh, he wants it. He's getting himself ready for it. There's much more conviction when he puts the collar in place, makes sure it's secure, runs the back of his thumb along Eric's jaw. Possessive. Firm. Good.
If Ewan wants it, Eric wants it. That's the beautiful thing about the collar. Eric doesn't have to decide for himself anymore, yet he's not treated like a child. He's not lectured about what is good for him – he simply goes along with whatever Ewan wants. And it's a given that Ewan will know what's best.
Ewan tells Eric to kneel.
Eric glares at him. Fuck. Ewan wasn't listening to a word he said about how that prick of a stunt coordinator was making him do the rolling-out-of-the-moving-car-onto-his-knees thing over and over and over, and he doesn't want to be on his fucking knees anymore today. They're a bit sore and he's not trying to be bad or anything, but a little fucking sympathy would be nice.
In a fast move, Ewan reaches out and pulls sharply on the front of Eric's collar. Eric is jerked off balance and falls to his knees with a heavy crash. Right on the bruises that already hurt.
Eric looks up at Ewan's smirk.
He could use his safeword.
But it doesn't hurt that much.
"Hands behind your back," Ewan commands.
Eric starts, stops, thinks again about using the safeword. Realises that maybe Ewan was listening after all, and that having Eric kneel might be the best way for Eric to get over his indignation about having to kneel so much. Eric clasps his wrists together.
Ewan is in control, not Eric.
"You insignificant little git," Ewan sneers, trying to intimidate Eric. Eric's getting hard, because there's nothing quite like having someone smaller than him loom over him. Now he's enjoying being on his knees, being the little guy for a change.
But Ewan is still not happy. What does it take to satisfy him when he's in this mood? Eric tries to look as meek as possible.
"Eager and compliant for everyone but me, yeah?" Ewan says, pacing back and forth. He's doing that so Eric will look at his thighs and his arse and the bulge in his jeans, Eric thinks. "A willing little bitch for everyone all day but then you come back here to my house and expect me to take this shit from you?"
Now wait a minute. Eric's been putting up with a lot this week too and... but no, that's not what this is about. Save the friendly give-and-take for later. It's Ewan's time to take, Eric's time to be taken from. He starts to agree with Ewan, out loud, but Ewan takes it the wrong way. Probably on purpose. And that's fine with Eric because the next thing Ewan does is to tell him to shut up.
Ewan unzips and pulls out his cock. "I've had enough of your noise. Put your mouth to a better use and suck me."
Fuck, yes. Ewan is so good at this. He always knows what will send a wave of hot lust to Eric's cock. Ewan grabs Eric's head and shoves his cock inside.
Eric lets his mouth be impaled. So good to be used. Oh, yes.
Ewan pushes him away and narrows his eyes.
Shit. Now what? Eric doesn't even see Ewan's hand coming.
Fuck. Ewan's never hit him before. But then, that wasn't really a hit, was it? More of a... hard caress.
Being used isn't enough anymore. He can't just kneel there while his mouth gets fucked. He's got to actively serve. Show Ewan how much he appreciates him. How much he loves being on his knees like this. How much he loves Ewan's cock.
And he does love his cock. It's beautiful, it tastes beautiful, it's hard and long and it's fucking perfect. And it's his.
Eric blinks, looks up at Ewan, who has all the smugness and holier-than-thou fucking attitude Eric could ever hope for. Power is sexy, and it has set Ewan's eyes on fire. They're threatening to melt Eric, and Eric wants to melt so bad.
"That's right," Ewan growls softly. Maybe even purrs. "You're mine. You've been a little fuck all evening and I'm going to do with you as I please, and you're going to bloody well like it."
Like it? Fuck, he's already loving it. This is going to be a great night, as long as those eyes don't kill Eric. They're beaming energy at him, like some exotic weapon from Star Wars. Eric had better be careful. If he does anything to piss of Ewan further, those eyes might make him explode. Between the way Ewan is glaring at him and the words he's using, Eric is exploding a little, inside. That would be imploding. But not really. His brain is careening around in his skull, hot and whirling. Wanting to burst out in the open.
Yours, yours, whatever you want, Eric thinks. He lets Ewan shove his cock in again, move his head, almost choke him. Tries not to pull away from that heavy cock in his throat. Lets Ewan call him names. Use his mouth however he wants.
Finally, Ewan lets him suck in earnest. This is what it all comes down to, isn't it? The sheer joy of giving head. He wants to taste Ewan's come so badly. His cock is aching for it, as if Ewan's come will slide down his throat right down into his cock and jerk him off from the inside out.
"You're not good enough for my come." And Eric's chest is covered in come.
Hey. That was the come he wanted in his mouth. Needs on his tongue. Damn!
But it's good. In fact, it's better than swallowing it. It drips down his chest a bit. Dirty. So dirty. He's dirty. Eric is dirty. He's on his knees, on the floor, covered in come. The anger is gone. He's in the moment.
And it's almost perfect.
"Stay," Ewan orders.
Easy for him to say.
And leaves.
Fuck!
At least there's a carpet. Better than kneeling on wood floor. But then he worries about getting come all over the carpet. It's sliding down his chest. It could stain the carpet. He hates sucking come off the carpet. Little fuzzies between his teeth. He leans back slightly, not enough so Ewan will notice. The slide of the come slows.
There's one particular glob of it moving over his right nipple. It tickles and itches and is cooling. If it spreads out thin enough and dries quickly, it'll pull on his skin.
Eric would do just about anything now to have someone suck his nipple at this moment.
Or his cock.
Oh, Jesus, his cock is hard. It hurts to have his hard cock in such tight jeans.
Ewan comes back. He sits on the couch with his legs spread. So casual. He can't actually feel as casual as he looks. It would be fucking criminal for anyone to feel that casual when Eric was in the room in this state, wouldn't it? And Ewan's just sitting there. Being casual. He could at least tell Eric to crawl over.
"Crawl over here," Ewan orders.
That's right, Eric thinks. Give me everything you got. He shuffles over, keeping hold of his wrists.
"Excellent." Ewan looks so damn pleased. Maybe they're over whatever communication error they've been having all week. A little therapy was all that was needed.
"Let me see your cock. Slow and easy. Show me how a little slut like you plays with himself."
Eric obeys. He'd rather wank hard and fast, but he shoves his jeans and boxers down and pulls his cock out delicately and touches lightly. Not so lightly that it makes him think of Ewan's hair brushing over his skin, but not hard or fast enough to take him over the edge. Yet.
Long enough, though, and he could. He could come from the slow, languid, gentle stroking. He could.
Until Ewan tells him to stop.
And somehow, that's far more brilliant than being told to come.
~end~
Author:
heartofslashFandom: RPS
Characters: Ewan McGregor/Eric Bana
Prompt: 28. Dominant
Word Count: 1927
Rating: R
Author's Notes: There are two sides to every story. Companion piece to Breaking the Rules by
salixbabylon.Eric knows he's been a bit of an arse all week. It's the stunt coordinator's fault - he's got no faith in Eric at all. He treats him like a child. No respect for Eric's skills, his experience. So Eric's in a bad mood.
And he's getting no support on the home front.
Ewan knows how trying this week has been. Ewan knows how much the arsehole is pissing Eric off, but he refuses to cut Eric any slack. Ewan actually told Eric it was his own damn fault in the first place. Not an ounce of sympathy. In fact, he's been downright pissy.
And this from the man who whinges every single day about how his contract forbids him to ride his bike until principal photography is completed.
Well, Eric's not up for that today. He's not taking any more shit, not after all he's had to put up with on set.
Although, Ewan is kind of sexy when he gets all bitchy like that. He gets this superior look on his face and that holier-than-thou attitude brings out the fire in his eyes like nothing else.
It's kind of fun to bring that out just a bit more, enough so Ewan sets his jaw and does that thing where he purses his lips together. More prissy than pissy, but it makes Eric think about doing things that'll make that jaw relax and open in a loud moan...
"You're being a right bitch, mate," Ewan says. "If you want to work some of this off, go and get your collar. If not, get out of my house; I'm not taking this shit any longer."
That wasn't exactly what Eric had in mind. Ewan doesn't do that really sexy moan when he's formally topping. But nothing says that particular moan is the only way to get Ewan's jaw to relax.
Eric grumbles a bit, swears, gives the end of the couch a kick.
He doesn't know if he wants the collar. What he'd really like is to find someone to go ten rounds with him. Beat the crap out of someone. Or have the crap beat out of himself. But he's not allowed to do that until principal photography is completed.
Subbing will have to suffice. Not that there's anything wrong with subbing. Giving up the control means having to give up the angry, which would be healthy at this point. So maybe... maybe giving up control on purpose would be a bit... therapeutic.
"You're right," he says, and he peels off his shirt because there's no sense in letting Ewan think he's holding all the cards. He knows damn well what his naked pecs do to Ewan's sense of dominance.
His collar is in the top drawer beside Ewan's bed. For some reason, Ewan keeps it close. In case of emergency, Eric supposes. He fingers the leather. Lifts it to his face. Takes a deep breath. Loves the smell of the leather.
He holds the collar out to Ewan. It's his job to put it on, not Eric's.
"Do you want this?" Ewan asks impatiently.
Of course Eric wants this; he wouldn't be holding out the collar if he didn't want it. But Ewan isn't taking it from him with his usual certainty. Eric's not entirely sure if Ewan wants this, and if Ewan's not into it, things could turn ugly.
Then Ewan closes his eyes and breathes deeply. Oh, he wants it. He's getting himself ready for it. There's much more conviction when he puts the collar in place, makes sure it's secure, runs the back of his thumb along Eric's jaw. Possessive. Firm. Good.
If Ewan wants it, Eric wants it. That's the beautiful thing about the collar. Eric doesn't have to decide for himself anymore, yet he's not treated like a child. He's not lectured about what is good for him – he simply goes along with whatever Ewan wants. And it's a given that Ewan will know what's best.
Ewan tells Eric to kneel.
Eric glares at him. Fuck. Ewan wasn't listening to a word he said about how that prick of a stunt coordinator was making him do the rolling-out-of-the-moving-car-onto-his-knees thing over and over and over, and he doesn't want to be on his fucking knees anymore today. They're a bit sore and he's not trying to be bad or anything, but a little fucking sympathy would be nice.
In a fast move, Ewan reaches out and pulls sharply on the front of Eric's collar. Eric is jerked off balance and falls to his knees with a heavy crash. Right on the bruises that already hurt.
Eric looks up at Ewan's smirk.
He could use his safeword.
But it doesn't hurt that much.
"Hands behind your back," Ewan commands.
Eric starts, stops, thinks again about using the safeword. Realises that maybe Ewan was listening after all, and that having Eric kneel might be the best way for Eric to get over his indignation about having to kneel so much. Eric clasps his wrists together.
Ewan is in control, not Eric.
"You insignificant little git," Ewan sneers, trying to intimidate Eric. Eric's getting hard, because there's nothing quite like having someone smaller than him loom over him. Now he's enjoying being on his knees, being the little guy for a change.
But Ewan is still not happy. What does it take to satisfy him when he's in this mood? Eric tries to look as meek as possible.
"Eager and compliant for everyone but me, yeah?" Ewan says, pacing back and forth. He's doing that so Eric will look at his thighs and his arse and the bulge in his jeans, Eric thinks. "A willing little bitch for everyone all day but then you come back here to my house and expect me to take this shit from you?"
Now wait a minute. Eric's been putting up with a lot this week too and... but no, that's not what this is about. Save the friendly give-and-take for later. It's Ewan's time to take, Eric's time to be taken from. He starts to agree with Ewan, out loud, but Ewan takes it the wrong way. Probably on purpose. And that's fine with Eric because the next thing Ewan does is to tell him to shut up.
Ewan unzips and pulls out his cock. "I've had enough of your noise. Put your mouth to a better use and suck me."
Fuck, yes. Ewan is so good at this. He always knows what will send a wave of hot lust to Eric's cock. Ewan grabs Eric's head and shoves his cock inside.
Eric lets his mouth be impaled. So good to be used. Oh, yes.
Ewan pushes him away and narrows his eyes.
Shit. Now what? Eric doesn't even see Ewan's hand coming.
Fuck. Ewan's never hit him before. But then, that wasn't really a hit, was it? More of a... hard caress.
Being used isn't enough anymore. He can't just kneel there while his mouth gets fucked. He's got to actively serve. Show Ewan how much he appreciates him. How much he loves being on his knees like this. How much he loves Ewan's cock.
And he does love his cock. It's beautiful, it tastes beautiful, it's hard and long and it's fucking perfect. And it's his.
Eric blinks, looks up at Ewan, who has all the smugness and holier-than-thou fucking attitude Eric could ever hope for. Power is sexy, and it has set Ewan's eyes on fire. They're threatening to melt Eric, and Eric wants to melt so bad.
"That's right," Ewan growls softly. Maybe even purrs. "You're mine. You've been a little fuck all evening and I'm going to do with you as I please, and you're going to bloody well like it."
Like it? Fuck, he's already loving it. This is going to be a great night, as long as those eyes don't kill Eric. They're beaming energy at him, like some exotic weapon from Star Wars. Eric had better be careful. If he does anything to piss of Ewan further, those eyes might make him explode. Between the way Ewan is glaring at him and the words he's using, Eric is exploding a little, inside. That would be imploding. But not really. His brain is careening around in his skull, hot and whirling. Wanting to burst out in the open.
Yours, yours, whatever you want, Eric thinks. He lets Ewan shove his cock in again, move his head, almost choke him. Tries not to pull away from that heavy cock in his throat. Lets Ewan call him names. Use his mouth however he wants.
Finally, Ewan lets him suck in earnest. This is what it all comes down to, isn't it? The sheer joy of giving head. He wants to taste Ewan's come so badly. His cock is aching for it, as if Ewan's come will slide down his throat right down into his cock and jerk him off from the inside out.
"You're not good enough for my come." And Eric's chest is covered in come.
Hey. That was the come he wanted in his mouth. Needs on his tongue. Damn!
But it's good. In fact, it's better than swallowing it. It drips down his chest a bit. Dirty. So dirty. He's dirty. Eric is dirty. He's on his knees, on the floor, covered in come. The anger is gone. He's in the moment.
And it's almost perfect.
"Stay," Ewan orders.
Easy for him to say.
And leaves.
Fuck!
At least there's a carpet. Better than kneeling on wood floor. But then he worries about getting come all over the carpet. It's sliding down his chest. It could stain the carpet. He hates sucking come off the carpet. Little fuzzies between his teeth. He leans back slightly, not enough so Ewan will notice. The slide of the come slows.
There's one particular glob of it moving over his right nipple. It tickles and itches and is cooling. If it spreads out thin enough and dries quickly, it'll pull on his skin.
Eric would do just about anything now to have someone suck his nipple at this moment.
Or his cock.
Oh, Jesus, his cock is hard. It hurts to have his hard cock in such tight jeans.
Ewan comes back. He sits on the couch with his legs spread. So casual. He can't actually feel as casual as he looks. It would be fucking criminal for anyone to feel that casual when Eric was in the room in this state, wouldn't it? And Ewan's just sitting there. Being casual. He could at least tell Eric to crawl over.
"Crawl over here," Ewan orders.
That's right, Eric thinks. Give me everything you got. He shuffles over, keeping hold of his wrists.
"Excellent." Ewan looks so damn pleased. Maybe they're over whatever communication error they've been having all week. A little therapy was all that was needed.
"Let me see your cock. Slow and easy. Show me how a little slut like you plays with himself."
Eric obeys. He'd rather wank hard and fast, but he shoves his jeans and boxers down and pulls his cock out delicately and touches lightly. Not so lightly that it makes him think of Ewan's hair brushing over his skin, but not hard or fast enough to take him over the edge. Yet.
Long enough, though, and he could. He could come from the slow, languid, gentle stroking. He could.
Until Ewan tells him to stop.
And somehow, that's far more brilliant than being told to come.
![[identity profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/openid.png){kind=small}
no subject
Date: 2006-03-10 04:53 am (UTC)And hot, too. Mustn't forget that. *G*
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Date: 2006-03-13 01:40 am (UTC)*gives you a little spank*
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Date: 2006-03-13 01:46 am (UTC)*rubs bum and goes to lie down*
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Date: 2006-03-10 09:46 am (UTC)Little typo... "the next thing Ewan does it to tell him to shut up." ... should it be "is to tell"? Hope you don't mind me asking...
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Date: 2006-03-10 04:59 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2006-03-10 05:31 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2006-03-11 05:19 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2006-03-13 01:42 am (UTC)Images, indeed. What I wouldn't give for a picture of Eric kneeling in front of Ewan...
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Date: 2006-03-13 06:52 am (UTC);)
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Date: 2006-03-10 10:05 am (UTC)I love it :)
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Date: 2006-03-13 01:44 am (UTC)ahem
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Date: 2006-03-10 04:23 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2006-03-13 01:44 am (UTC)And the sex.
And the hard caresses.
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Date: 2006-03-10 08:41 pm (UTC)Jen ;->
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Date: 2006-03-13 01:45 am (UTC)no subject
Date: 2006-03-12 03:49 am (UTC)God, you're killing me woman.
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Date: 2006-03-13 01:48 am (UTC)*cuddles you and promises to train your apprentice for you... no, wait... promises to tell our story to the world... no, wait... tells you to get the fuck off the floor and write me some Elladan/Elrohir because it's my turn to do the dying!*