Fic: Improv (Ewan/Eric, NC17, for ![[livejournal.com profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/external/lj-community.gif)
50kinkyways)
May. 13th, 2007 03:08 pm![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
salixbabylonTitle: Improv
Author:![[livejournal.com profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/external/lj-userinfo.gif)
salixbabylon
Fandom: RPS
Characters: Ewan McGregor/Eric Bana
Prompt: 6. Restraints
Word Count: 1168
Rating: NC-17
Author's Notes: If Eric wants formal, Ewan will give it to him.
Improv
They've been over the fear thing, talking about it with words even. Not that Ewan has a problem with words, just that when it comes to talking about sex, well, he'd rather be doing it than talking about it. Scene negotiations are a thing of the past, now – he and Eric know where the boundaries are. Right?
Right.
Tonight Ewan is trying to make up for the Licorice Whips Incident. He's pulled out all the impressive leather restraints and laid them out on the dressing table in an orderly and hopefully enticing manner. The room is lit by three strategically placed candles, he's kneeling wearing just a leather collar and a hard-on, and he's even put on mood music.
And he's going to behave.
No, really.
If Eric wants formal, Ewan will give it to him. He's an actor and he knows this script. He can do it. He might feel silly, but he will control himself and not laugh, not even one little giggle, for Eric.
He hopes.
Of course just thinking about laughing is already ruining his composure. It's like during a rehearsal when someone gets the giggles and you just have to call a break and let everyone get it out of their systems. Except that shit, Eric's there at the door, and now is not a good time to giggle.
Fuck. Ewan bites his tongue until it hurts a lot and keeps his eyes focused on the floor, imagining the tension leaving his body with each breath, drifting away. He shivers, trying to center himself under Eric's watchful gaze.
"Are you ready?" There a hint of impatience in Eric's tone.
"Yes," Ewan says. "Sir," he adds hastily.
"Up," Eric growls in that sexy fucking dominant don't-mess-with-me-boy voice, jerking his chin at the wall with the eyebolts.
In very little time Ewan is strapped in, facing the wall, wrists crossed above his head, legs spread far apart. He'd be off balance, but luckily the wall is there to hold him up. Eric's also wrapped a long leather strap around his cock and balls, separating them uncomfortably.
Ewan loves being restrained, no doubt about that. He's compliant and willing to let his body be moved around, locked into awkward positions, and can relax into any set of bonds he's ever been put in. It never fails to turn him on - restraints make him feel safe, but also trapped, endangered, and it's a heady mixture of conflicting feelings. His cock throbs where it's crushed up against the wall.
"I think pain and formality go together well, don't you?" Eric asks rhetorically.
Ewan nods.
"Count," comes the command, and then something both flexible and hard, tickly and painful, strikes Ewan's arse.
"One." It doesn't hurt too much, but it feels like it could, and it probably will. By "Four," the sting is building up into a bite, and it's driving Ewan mad that he can't tell what he's being struck with.
So he twists around. And after a moment or two of wide-eyed gawking, he laughs.
Not just a little chuckle or giggle either. Nope, a full out, deep-belly, thoroughly scene-ruining, misbehaving laugh.
Eric has acquired a new toy, it seems. A red flogger, made of a million tiny rubber threads, which look quite similar to licorice strings.
Who could resist laughing at something like that?
"Fuck!" Ewan shouts as Eric smacks him with the flogger, hard. His laughter dies because motherfucker - that hurts.
"'Five,' I think you meant," Eric growls.
"Six" and "Seven" bloody hurt and Ewan's breathless laughter is gone, although he's still gasping for air. His eyes are not watering from giggles now, but from the sharpness of the pain.
"Eight" is almost unbearable. "Nine" makes him gasp "Please, Sir, I'm sorry," in a rush before Ten can fall.
The red candy-like strands brush over Ewan's throbbing arse and thighs, soothing with their cool silky strands.
Ewan leans his hot face against the wall. His prick nudges against it, too. Always happy, his prick, any time Eric is near. And a little pain never spoils things either. There's a lesson in this, but he can't think because now Eric's spreading his abused arse open and fucking him with two fingers.
God, it's good. But Ewan's knees are buckling and he feels like he's going to pass out if there's any more sensation.
"Please, Eric- Sir," he corrects himself. "I can't..." he scrambles against the wall with his fingers as his knees buckle. How can you fall against a wall that you're leaning on? he wonders absently as he does it.
Eric's got his arms around Ewan's waist, unhooking the restraints and moving them to the bed. He's fucking carrying Ewan, but Ewan's too far gone to be indignant about that. He's hard and he's hot and he feels off-balance and dizzy from the laughing and the crying.
And he wants Eric to be pleased with him. Really, truly pleased. He feels bad about laughing, although he also feels tricked into it – Eric had to know that any reminder of the licorice would do that. This scene keeps shifting, though, too fast for him to keep up. He meant to be good, and everything was going according to the script, but then Eric had to go and throw in that fucking red flogger...
Bloody comedians. Always improvising.
Eric wipes away the tear tracks on Ewan's face, looking thoughtful.
No - looking lustful.
Ewan is not surprised to find himself suddenly rolled over, with Eric's prick sliding into his arse. He moans as everything in the universe reduces to this, just this – fullness and overwhelming pleasure. Being fucked by Eric is the most magnificent thing ever.
He must have mumbled that, because Eric smacks him on the bum with a chuckle. "Thank me," he says.
Ewan does, enthusiastically, and without needing to be prompted to add 'Sir' at the end.
Eric gives him another little slap, a perfect counterpoint to the liquid pleasure melting Ewan's brain. "Say 'Please, Master, may I have another?'" Eric tells him.
Ewan laughs, a broken sound punctuated by one well-timed thrust of Eric's huge prick. "Oh God, please Master, please may I have another?" he begs and he's only half-acting.
"You may," Eric grants in a regal tone, and proceeds to fuck the giggles right out of Ewan. He makes Ewan beg for a hand on his cock, and again to be permitted to come, stopping when Ewan fumbles and forgets to add 'Master.'
Ewan finally gets the words out properly and the next few minutes are a haze of relief and orgasm and hot sweaty man collapsed on top of him.
Heavy hot sweaty man.
Once Eric has been shoved aside, Ewan stretches out, basking in afterglow. Until his eyes light on the red flogger again and he snickers, in a satiated sort of way.
Eric follows his line of sight. "I didn't want you just following a script – you'd get bored," he grins.
"I definitely wasn't bored," Ewan agrees, "Sir."
~end~
at Eros Boutique
Author:
salixbabylonFandom: RPS
Characters: Ewan McGregor/Eric Bana
Prompt: 6. Restraints
Word Count: 1168
Rating: NC-17
Author's Notes: If Eric wants formal, Ewan will give it to him.
They've been over the fear thing, talking about it with words even. Not that Ewan has a problem with words, just that when it comes to talking about sex, well, he'd rather be doing it than talking about it. Scene negotiations are a thing of the past, now – he and Eric know where the boundaries are. Right?
Right.
Tonight Ewan is trying to make up for the Licorice Whips Incident. He's pulled out all the impressive leather restraints and laid them out on the dressing table in an orderly and hopefully enticing manner. The room is lit by three strategically placed candles, he's kneeling wearing just a leather collar and a hard-on, and he's even put on mood music.
And he's going to behave.
No, really.
If Eric wants formal, Ewan will give it to him. He's an actor and he knows this script. He can do it. He might feel silly, but he will control himself and not laugh, not even one little giggle, for Eric.
He hopes.
Of course just thinking about laughing is already ruining his composure. It's like during a rehearsal when someone gets the giggles and you just have to call a break and let everyone get it out of their systems. Except that shit, Eric's there at the door, and now is not a good time to giggle.
Fuck. Ewan bites his tongue until it hurts a lot and keeps his eyes focused on the floor, imagining the tension leaving his body with each breath, drifting away. He shivers, trying to center himself under Eric's watchful gaze.
"Are you ready?" There a hint of impatience in Eric's tone.
"Yes," Ewan says. "Sir," he adds hastily.
"Up," Eric growls in that sexy fucking dominant don't-mess-with-me-boy voice, jerking his chin at the wall with the eyebolts.
In very little time Ewan is strapped in, facing the wall, wrists crossed above his head, legs spread far apart. He'd be off balance, but luckily the wall is there to hold him up. Eric's also wrapped a long leather strap around his cock and balls, separating them uncomfortably.
Ewan loves being restrained, no doubt about that. He's compliant and willing to let his body be moved around, locked into awkward positions, and can relax into any set of bonds he's ever been put in. It never fails to turn him on - restraints make him feel safe, but also trapped, endangered, and it's a heady mixture of conflicting feelings. His cock throbs where it's crushed up against the wall.
"I think pain and formality go together well, don't you?" Eric asks rhetorically.
Ewan nods.
"Count," comes the command, and then something both flexible and hard, tickly and painful, strikes Ewan's arse.
"One." It doesn't hurt too much, but it feels like it could, and it probably will. By "Four," the sting is building up into a bite, and it's driving Ewan mad that he can't tell what he's being struck with.
So he twists around. And after a moment or two of wide-eyed gawking, he laughs.
Not just a little chuckle or giggle either. Nope, a full out, deep-belly, thoroughly scene-ruining, misbehaving laugh.
Eric has acquired a new toy, it seems. A red flogger, made of a million tiny rubber threads, which look quite similar to licorice strings.
Who could resist laughing at something like that?
"Fuck!" Ewan shouts as Eric smacks him with the flogger, hard. His laughter dies because motherfucker - that hurts.
"'Five,' I think you meant," Eric growls.
"Six" and "Seven" bloody hurt and Ewan's breathless laughter is gone, although he's still gasping for air. His eyes are not watering from giggles now, but from the sharpness of the pain.
"Eight" is almost unbearable. "Nine" makes him gasp "Please, Sir, I'm sorry," in a rush before Ten can fall.
The red candy-like strands brush over Ewan's throbbing arse and thighs, soothing with their cool silky strands.
Ewan leans his hot face against the wall. His prick nudges against it, too. Always happy, his prick, any time Eric is near. And a little pain never spoils things either. There's a lesson in this, but he can't think because now Eric's spreading his abused arse open and fucking him with two fingers.
God, it's good. But Ewan's knees are buckling and he feels like he's going to pass out if there's any more sensation.
"Please, Eric- Sir," he corrects himself. "I can't..." he scrambles against the wall with his fingers as his knees buckle. How can you fall against a wall that you're leaning on? he wonders absently as he does it.
Eric's got his arms around Ewan's waist, unhooking the restraints and moving them to the bed. He's fucking carrying Ewan, but Ewan's too far gone to be indignant about that. He's hard and he's hot and he feels off-balance and dizzy from the laughing and the crying.
And he wants Eric to be pleased with him. Really, truly pleased. He feels bad about laughing, although he also feels tricked into it – Eric had to know that any reminder of the licorice would do that. This scene keeps shifting, though, too fast for him to keep up. He meant to be good, and everything was going according to the script, but then Eric had to go and throw in that fucking red flogger...
Bloody comedians. Always improvising.
Eric wipes away the tear tracks on Ewan's face, looking thoughtful.
No - looking lustful.
Ewan is not surprised to find himself suddenly rolled over, with Eric's prick sliding into his arse. He moans as everything in the universe reduces to this, just this – fullness and overwhelming pleasure. Being fucked by Eric is the most magnificent thing ever.
He must have mumbled that, because Eric smacks him on the bum with a chuckle. "Thank me," he says.
Ewan does, enthusiastically, and without needing to be prompted to add 'Sir' at the end.
Eric gives him another little slap, a perfect counterpoint to the liquid pleasure melting Ewan's brain. "Say 'Please, Master, may I have another?'" Eric tells him.
Ewan laughs, a broken sound punctuated by one well-timed thrust of Eric's huge prick. "Oh God, please Master, please may I have another?" he begs and he's only half-acting.
"You may," Eric grants in a regal tone, and proceeds to fuck the giggles right out of Ewan. He makes Ewan beg for a hand on his cock, and again to be permitted to come, stopping when Ewan fumbles and forgets to add 'Master.'
Ewan finally gets the words out properly and the next few minutes are a haze of relief and orgasm and hot sweaty man collapsed on top of him.
Heavy hot sweaty man.
Once Eric has been shoved aside, Ewan stretches out, basking in afterglow. Until his eyes light on the red flogger again and he snickers, in a satiated sort of way.
Eric follows his line of sight. "I didn't want you just following a script – you'd get bored," he grins.
"I definitely wasn't bored," Ewan agrees, "Sir."
at Eros Boutique
![[identity profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/openid.png){kind=small}
no subject
Date: 2007-05-14 12:47 am (UTC)How overwhelmed (if that's the right word) Ewan is by the scene is great. Eric's "punishment" for Ewan laughing at the licorice-like whip works so well especially when it's clear the choice of flogger was deliberate (and he probably expected that kind of reaction). And I love the playful formality he introduces at the end, knowing how formal words and rituals are often difficult for Ewan.
no subject
Date: 2007-05-14 05:28 pm (UTC)Poor Ewan - he thinks he's got a script and then Eric goes and changes it on him. Glad you liked it!
no subject
Date: 2007-05-14 07:08 am (UTC)Oh dear....that was too hot for words. It's monday morning and I'm going to be thinking about that all day while I'm in work.
Like that's a bad thing. ;)
Jen ;->
no subject
Date: 2007-05-14 05:42 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2007-05-14 10:48 pm (UTC)Jen ;->
no subject
Date: 2007-05-14 02:14 pm (UTC)I lovced the mix between pain and pleasure, the laughing and the crying. And the fact that Eric carried Ewan to the bed. Somehow that image is stuck to my head.
^_^
no subject
Date: 2007-05-14 05:44 pm (UTC)It's a nice image, isn't it? Eric's so big and strong... *melts*
no subject
Date: 2007-05-14 06:29 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2007-05-22 01:57 am (UTC)no subject
Date: 2007-05-23 07:44 pm (UTC)Glad you liked the combination. I imagine with Eric's comedic background, there would be a lot of humor in their bedroom...
no subject
Date: 2007-05-22 05:56 am (UTC)Cheers, [smack]
no subject
Date: 2007-05-23 07:47 pm (UTC)(Which part was new to you? That kind of flogger?)
no subject
Date: 2007-05-23 08:45 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2007-05-24 03:17 am (UTC)