Fic: Something Different (Ewan/Eric, NC-17, for ![[livejournal.com profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/external/lj-community.gif)
50kinkyways)
Aug. 27th, 2007 10:58 am![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
salixbabylonTitle: Something Different
Author:![[livejournal.com profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/external/lj-userinfo.gif)
heartofslash
Fandom: RPS
Characters: Ewan McGregor/Eric Bana
Prompt: 49. Writer's choice - Feet
Word Count: 1547
Rating: NC-17
Author's Notes: As their time together draws to a close, Eric decides it's time for something completely different. Ewan doesn't seem to mind. Much.
Something Different
It's always that way near the end. It had been the longest day of the shoot. The luxury of time is spent. No more experimentation or playing about. Time to get serious. He was exhausted and sore.
The weather had finally been perfect for a location shot: run down an alley, up a flight of concrete stairs, jump over a short wall onto a tar and gravel roof, run across the roof to a broken skylight, climb down where the panes were missing, land on a scaffold.
Cut.
Repeat.
Seventeen fucking times.
It had taken most of the morning to set up the four cameras that would capture the action on one (seventeen) smooth take(s). During the set-up, he'd gone some lengths to complain about the boots and ask that they be replaced, to no avail. Sometimes that's the way it goes.
It wasn't that they didn't fit. They did. And they were the same boots he'd worn in all the other scenes that took place on the same day in the script. And they looked nice enough, Italian, black leather, zip on the side - not biker boots but dress boots. Chic. Classy. Completely inadequate thin soles with no padding.
Seventeen takes.
He got out of the shower and fell face first on the bed. He lay there with sore, pink feet handing over the edge of the mattress, and he groaned.
Eric feels sorry for him. He's experienced his share of unforgiving costumes. He doesn't know exactly how Ewan's feet feel, (because he could never squeeze his feet into those little boots) but he has a pretty good idea, because Ewan would not stop fucking whinging about it all through dinner.
He'd thought about gagging Ewan and fucking him until he forgot all about the bloody boots, but it didn't seem right, not when Ewan is suffering so.
It's not the time for games. They've only got another week. Eric wants to do something special, something he's never done before. This could be his last chance.
He kneels at the end of the bed and holds one foot gently. He cradles it for a moment, warming it. Ewan's whimpers are of the encouraging sort, so Eric slides his thumbs from the heel to the toes. The whimpers turn to sighs.
Eric works methodically, massaging the heel first, then the instep. He runs his thumbs in circles around the ball of the foot, then presses a little harder below the big toe, at the centre of the foot, pushing a little under the ball.
"Oh, God, don't stop!" Ewan groans. He almost sounds as if he's having sex.
Almost.
Eric gives the foot an affectionate squeeze and lets go.
"Aw, for fuck's sake, I said don't stop!" Ewan whines.
"Other foot," Eric explains, a little shocked by how soft his own voice sounds.
Ewan rolls over and stares past his toes at Eric.
"If you want them both to feel good, I have to do them both equally."
Ewan's eyes narrow to green-grey slits.
Eric can't imagine why. It's not as if he's playing around. "On your stomach so I can massage the other foot properly."
He doesn't argue. He rolls over so Eric can repeat the process. This time, when Eric lets go, Ewan's legs fall apart a bit.
"Slut," Eric murmurs affectionately. He takes a foot in each hand and rubs his thumbs up and down the soles. Then he starts to massage the ankles with his fingers. He kneels up and tucks Ewan's feet against his stomach. He starts at the back of the heel and works his way up the tight calves.
The "ahhhh" that comes out of Ewan tells Eric that the bottoms of Ewan's feet are not the only parts of him that sustained damage. Eric feels around and finds two identical knots near the peaks of Ewan's calves, and swears. "Footwear is meant for more than looking sharp," he mutters.
Eric's a big guy, and he does a fair bit of training, so he understands the need for strong, supportive shoes. He looks down at the floor and sees Ewan's socks crumpled beside the pile of clothing. Red with yellow and green stripes, and pathetically thin. At least if he'd been wearing proper athletic socks he'd have had a bit of padding. They just don't make the kinds of bright, slightly goofy socks that Ewan favours in decent thicknesses.
Eric massages the knots away and makes sure the calf muscles go nice and loose.
Ewan mumbles and his toes curl, tugging the hairs on Eric's stomach. Eric has to think about keeping his cock calm. If those fidgety toes keep tickling his belly, he's going to want stuff Ewan is in no shape to supply. As he massages the backs of Ewan's heels he can't help thinking about those feet moving a little further down. He's never had a full-on foot job before, but the idea of toes on cock is compelling. Almost enthralling.
But it's not the time for that. Ewan wouldn't enjoy it with his feet so sore.
It would be a good idea to get Ewan's feet away from his belly. It would be a good idea to finish the foot massage. It would be a good idea to be a little less selfish.
"Roll over," he says, shuffling back half a foot.
He can just make out a muffled, "'M okay, thanks."
"I'm not finished."
Ewan tucks his head to one side so Eric will hear him clearly. "Well, I am. Done like fucking dinner."
"Come on; roll over," Eric insists. He nudges Ewan's right leg.
"Leave it off," Ewan snaps.
Eric grabs both ankles and flips him over. Ewan actually rises off the bed mid-flip and lands hard on his back.
Hard is the operative word.
"Involuntary, I assure you," Ewan mutters.
"Nothing to be shy about, mate. You just like foot massages."
"You slid your hands up my calves."
"You were a little hard before that."
"I didn't notice."
"I noticed."
"You always notice."
True.
"When it's your hard-on, yeah, I notice... Still nothing to be ashamed of," Eric says.
"I'm not ashamed. I'm just tired. I don't understand why... I mean, I don't have the energy. And they're just feet."
"They're nice feet."
"But they're feet."
"Yeah. So? That's what goes in boots," Eric points out.
Ewan's cock twitches. "Boots are leather."
Ewan does have a thing for leather.
Eric slides his thumbs to the balls of Ewan's feet. "Don't need leather," he says. He presses on those particular spots, below the big toe, working the pads of his thumbs up into the balls.
"Fuck! Jesus!" Ewan yelps. "That's attached to my cock!"
Eric smiles. "Lie back," he says. "Enjoy," he croons. He works the spot deftly, relishing the way that Ewan's cock is still lengthening, still swelling, head pushing out past the foreskin, pink and gleaming.
Ewan swears some more, but the words are fast overtaken by panting as Eric's thumbs suddenly slide down to a spot just above the heels on the inside edges.
"Fuck!" Ewan gasps. "My--!"
Oh, yes. Your asshole, Eric thinks. He strokes that spot as if he's stroking Ewan's prostate. Ewan reaches up and grabs the sides of his pillow. Eric watches his chest rise and fall, his cock rise up off his belly, his hips shimmy as his prostate is caressed by remote control. Fucking beautiful. The gasps turn to whimpers and they're back at the beginning but it's better than the beginning ever was.
Eric lets his fingers play over the toes while his thumbs keep digging in. Ewan starts to thrash, so he refocuses his attention on the spot that makes his cock jerk. It jerks. It jerks and Ewan groans, and it pulses in the air and Ewan's mouth drops wide open, and Eric does this thing that he couldn't describe to you if you asked him but it seems like the perfect thing to do with his thumbs and Ewan says his name when he comes.
Eric watches, fascinated by the strings of glittering come and the way the bottoms of Ewan's feet are twitching in time with the shudders of his cock, and how perfect Ewan's abs look when they're curled up a bit like that and his cock is spurting come all over them, and how long Ewan's neck looks when he arches it and throws his head back like that.
Fucking beautiful.
Ewan finally goes still and Eric gets up to get a warm flannel to wipe his stomach. Ewan gives one more whimper as the moist cloth rubs over him, then he curls up on his side, spent. Poor guy. What a day.
Eric wriggles out of his pants and is a bit annoyed by the persistent erection that springs out. "Not now," he growls to himself. He tugs the blanket and sheet down under Ewan, who is so far asleep he doesn't even notice, and crawls into the bed behind him.
Ewan does notice that. He snuggles against Eric, and sighs, and lets out a soft snore.
Eric closes his eyes and breathes in the smell of Ewan and his hair and his shampoo and his come, which is faint but lingering.
That was different.
~end~
Author:
heartofslashFandom: RPS
Characters: Ewan McGregor/Eric Bana
Prompt: 49. Writer's choice - Feet
Word Count: 1547
Rating: NC-17
Author's Notes: As their time together draws to a close, Eric decides it's time for something completely different. Ewan doesn't seem to mind. Much.
It's always that way near the end. It had been the longest day of the shoot. The luxury of time is spent. No more experimentation or playing about. Time to get serious. He was exhausted and sore.
The weather had finally been perfect for a location shot: run down an alley, up a flight of concrete stairs, jump over a short wall onto a tar and gravel roof, run across the roof to a broken skylight, climb down where the panes were missing, land on a scaffold.
Cut.
Repeat.
Seventeen fucking times.
It had taken most of the morning to set up the four cameras that would capture the action on one (seventeen) smooth take(s). During the set-up, he'd gone some lengths to complain about the boots and ask that they be replaced, to no avail. Sometimes that's the way it goes.
It wasn't that they didn't fit. They did. And they were the same boots he'd worn in all the other scenes that took place on the same day in the script. And they looked nice enough, Italian, black leather, zip on the side - not biker boots but dress boots. Chic. Classy. Completely inadequate thin soles with no padding.
Seventeen takes.
He got out of the shower and fell face first on the bed. He lay there with sore, pink feet handing over the edge of the mattress, and he groaned.
Eric feels sorry for him. He's experienced his share of unforgiving costumes. He doesn't know exactly how Ewan's feet feel, (because he could never squeeze his feet into those little boots) but he has a pretty good idea, because Ewan would not stop fucking whinging about it all through dinner.
He'd thought about gagging Ewan and fucking him until he forgot all about the bloody boots, but it didn't seem right, not when Ewan is suffering so.
It's not the time for games. They've only got another week. Eric wants to do something special, something he's never done before. This could be his last chance.
He kneels at the end of the bed and holds one foot gently. He cradles it for a moment, warming it. Ewan's whimpers are of the encouraging sort, so Eric slides his thumbs from the heel to the toes. The whimpers turn to sighs.
Eric works methodically, massaging the heel first, then the instep. He runs his thumbs in circles around the ball of the foot, then presses a little harder below the big toe, at the centre of the foot, pushing a little under the ball.
"Oh, God, don't stop!" Ewan groans. He almost sounds as if he's having sex.
Almost.
Eric gives the foot an affectionate squeeze and lets go.
"Aw, for fuck's sake, I said don't stop!" Ewan whines.
"Other foot," Eric explains, a little shocked by how soft his own voice sounds.
Ewan rolls over and stares past his toes at Eric.
"If you want them both to feel good, I have to do them both equally."
Ewan's eyes narrow to green-grey slits.
Eric can't imagine why. It's not as if he's playing around. "On your stomach so I can massage the other foot properly."
He doesn't argue. He rolls over so Eric can repeat the process. This time, when Eric lets go, Ewan's legs fall apart a bit.
"Slut," Eric murmurs affectionately. He takes a foot in each hand and rubs his thumbs up and down the soles. Then he starts to massage the ankles with his fingers. He kneels up and tucks Ewan's feet against his stomach. He starts at the back of the heel and works his way up the tight calves.
The "ahhhh" that comes out of Ewan tells Eric that the bottoms of Ewan's feet are not the only parts of him that sustained damage. Eric feels around and finds two identical knots near the peaks of Ewan's calves, and swears. "Footwear is meant for more than looking sharp," he mutters.
Eric's a big guy, and he does a fair bit of training, so he understands the need for strong, supportive shoes. He looks down at the floor and sees Ewan's socks crumpled beside the pile of clothing. Red with yellow and green stripes, and pathetically thin. At least if he'd been wearing proper athletic socks he'd have had a bit of padding. They just don't make the kinds of bright, slightly goofy socks that Ewan favours in decent thicknesses.
Eric massages the knots away and makes sure the calf muscles go nice and loose.
Ewan mumbles and his toes curl, tugging the hairs on Eric's stomach. Eric has to think about keeping his cock calm. If those fidgety toes keep tickling his belly, he's going to want stuff Ewan is in no shape to supply. As he massages the backs of Ewan's heels he can't help thinking about those feet moving a little further down. He's never had a full-on foot job before, but the idea of toes on cock is compelling. Almost enthralling.
But it's not the time for that. Ewan wouldn't enjoy it with his feet so sore.
It would be a good idea to get Ewan's feet away from his belly. It would be a good idea to finish the foot massage. It would be a good idea to be a little less selfish.
"Roll over," he says, shuffling back half a foot.
He can just make out a muffled, "'M okay, thanks."
"I'm not finished."
Ewan tucks his head to one side so Eric will hear him clearly. "Well, I am. Done like fucking dinner."
"Come on; roll over," Eric insists. He nudges Ewan's right leg.
"Leave it off," Ewan snaps.
Eric grabs both ankles and flips him over. Ewan actually rises off the bed mid-flip and lands hard on his back.
Hard is the operative word.
"Involuntary, I assure you," Ewan mutters.
"Nothing to be shy about, mate. You just like foot massages."
"You slid your hands up my calves."
"You were a little hard before that."
"I didn't notice."
"I noticed."
"You always notice."
True.
"When it's your hard-on, yeah, I notice... Still nothing to be ashamed of," Eric says.
"I'm not ashamed. I'm just tired. I don't understand why... I mean, I don't have the energy. And they're just feet."
"They're nice feet."
"But they're feet."
"Yeah. So? That's what goes in boots," Eric points out.
Ewan's cock twitches. "Boots are leather."
Ewan does have a thing for leather.
Eric slides his thumbs to the balls of Ewan's feet. "Don't need leather," he says. He presses on those particular spots, below the big toe, working the pads of his thumbs up into the balls.
"Fuck! Jesus!" Ewan yelps. "That's attached to my cock!"
Eric smiles. "Lie back," he says. "Enjoy," he croons. He works the spot deftly, relishing the way that Ewan's cock is still lengthening, still swelling, head pushing out past the foreskin, pink and gleaming.
Ewan swears some more, but the words are fast overtaken by panting as Eric's thumbs suddenly slide down to a spot just above the heels on the inside edges.
"Fuck!" Ewan gasps. "My--!"
Oh, yes. Your asshole, Eric thinks. He strokes that spot as if he's stroking Ewan's prostate. Ewan reaches up and grabs the sides of his pillow. Eric watches his chest rise and fall, his cock rise up off his belly, his hips shimmy as his prostate is caressed by remote control. Fucking beautiful. The gasps turn to whimpers and they're back at the beginning but it's better than the beginning ever was.
Eric lets his fingers play over the toes while his thumbs keep digging in. Ewan starts to thrash, so he refocuses his attention on the spot that makes his cock jerk. It jerks. It jerks and Ewan groans, and it pulses in the air and Ewan's mouth drops wide open, and Eric does this thing that he couldn't describe to you if you asked him but it seems like the perfect thing to do with his thumbs and Ewan says his name when he comes.
Eric watches, fascinated by the strings of glittering come and the way the bottoms of Ewan's feet are twitching in time with the shudders of his cock, and how perfect Ewan's abs look when they're curled up a bit like that and his cock is spurting come all over them, and how long Ewan's neck looks when he arches it and throws his head back like that.
Fucking beautiful.
Ewan finally goes still and Eric gets up to get a warm flannel to wipe his stomach. Ewan gives one more whimper as the moist cloth rubs over him, then he curls up on his side, spent. Poor guy. What a day.
Eric wriggles out of his pants and is a bit annoyed by the persistent erection that springs out. "Not now," he growls to himself. He tugs the blanket and sheet down under Ewan, who is so far asleep he doesn't even notice, and crawls into the bed behind him.
Ewan does notice that. He snuggles against Eric, and sighs, and lets out a soft snore.
Eric closes his eyes and breathes in the smell of Ewan and his hair and his shampoo and his come, which is faint but lingering.
That was different.
