Fuck Me

Title: Fuck Me Part 1/2
Author: drainbamage954
Rating: R/NC-17
Fandom: The Boondock Saints/ Sean Patrick Flanery and Norman Reedus
Genre: Humor, Romance, PWP
Wordcount: 6,971
Warnings: PROFANITY! (swearing and bad bad bad language) Some sexual stuff (more in part two) and stupidity
Summary: Who knew filming this movie could be so goddamn difficult. Nude scenes have never been this hard, no pun intended.
Disclaimer: I don't own The Boondock Saints or Sean Patrick Flanery or Norman Reedus or any of the others... though I sure as hell would like to. Anyone know if they're up for sale? I buy that in a HOT second.
Notes: Set during the first BDS filming and inspired from the deleted scene Ma Calls from Ireland *go watch it if you haven't. Parts will make more sense then.* This was waaay too much fuckin' fun to write.


Fuck Me.

Norman-

I knew it the moment I stepped on set. I knew that the only way I could get through this scene was to be completely in character, never leave being Murphy and turn back into Norman. If I turned back into Norman, well, let's just say brothers aren't really supposed to act that way towards each other.

Make up took almost no time, what with the fact that Sean and I didn't need anything really, aside from the tattoos. We were, after all, going to be naked the whole scene.

Set was just as always, laughing, joking, poking fun, and Sean. Sean being completely ridiculous. I've never really been able to do voices and stuff like that but Sean, Christ, every five minutes he's doing either another accent or impersonating some form of creature. It's a miracle we're not laughing in every fucking scene.

And right now, he's completely naked and I have to be Murphy because Jesus Christ Murphy wouldn't think of his brother that way.

...would he?

Don't go there Norman. Don't even start.

Everything was going perfectly until we go to the floor scene. It's one thing to be Murphy standing up, yelling at Connor for the goddamn phone while the girl to the side reads off what our crazy drunk mother is saying over the phone is the most obnoxious monotone voice. That wasn't too hard, as long as I concentrated on the scene and yelling at Connor to give me the goddamn phone. But now, now we're lying on the floor, skin against skin and chest to the cement, practically wrapped around each other as we press to the phone and God all I can think about is his skin against mine and holy shit I need to be Murphy right now.

"CUT!" I fucking hate Troy right now. Can't he see I'm literally on the verge of destruction here? I suppose not, considering everyone on the set thinks I'm straight and would never have those sort of reactions to Sean. No, of course it's fine to yell cut when Sean is almost lying on top of me, when I can feel my skin on fire where his meets mine, when I can hear and feel his breathing, heart rate, him and I NEED TO STAY IN CHARACTER.

Just breathe, Norman. Just fuckin' breathe.

Of course Sean's not helping me in the slightest. Brushing up against me, shoving me playfully (honestly he's a seven year old), cracking jokes and doing those goddamn voices. Like now.

We're stretched on the goddamn floor, about to shoot the scene. He turns to me and gives me his most shit eating grin. Does he even realize how goddamn sexy he is? Then he's off, doing yet another voice and I'm losing it. I can't help it. Honestly, I can't help but laugh.

"Live off the Boondock Saints." I'm laughing, bowing my head to the floor and I accidentally let myself relax, let my guard down. "Th-thanks very much for coming out." I'm trying not to let it continue, actually laugh and holy shit he's nuzzling into me. I realize it's necessary considering we're supposed to be brothers but, fuck why did I let my guard down.

On instinct, I clear my throat and we prop up, ready to do the scene. "Fuck me," I say almost automatically, using Murphy's voice and glance at him. Is it too much to hope that he'll take that comment seriously? Judging from that serious expression, not only is Sean not paying attention, but he's Connor. And Connor would never do that to Murphy. They're twins for gods sake.

But Sean's not my brother or my twin.

And I really need to stop thinking like that.

To the rest of the set, nothing seems strange, we continue the shot, going through the sequence with the girl reading in a monotone while Sean and I are Connor and Murphy, talking with our daft mother back in Ireland. We've kept it together so far, only the occasionally joke here and there, for the most part no more big stuff. Sean's finally keeping the voices to a minimum.

"Ah doncha worry Ma, I beat the hell outa her fer ya." Then he hits me and fuck that hurt. "Ow Fuck!" I say almost instantly and he's laughing and it's fucking contageous. In retaliation I whack him a few times in revenge and he's still fucking laughing. Fucking sadistic moron. I just have to keep reminding myself we're almost done with the scene when he rolls back into me. I'm trying to concentrate on the goddamn phone and scene but it's incredibly difficult with Sean pressed there, against my side, his laughter fanning against my face. No, Connor is pressed against Murphy and is laughing because they're brothers and do this sort of shit all the time. Flick him in the face for good measure.

I almost lose it when he stands up after the phone call and I'm lying on my back looking up at him. I'm Murphy. I'm Murphy. I'm fucking Murphy MacManus who does not want his brother to fuck him into next Tuesday. His fucking twin brother to fuck him into next Tuesday. Fuck.

"Oh don't even start, I've had ice on mine, alright?" Connor snaps at me with a defensive expression before stalking away grumbling under his breath.

"CUT!" Troy yells and I could almost kiss him. "Excellent," he says as Sean and I turn to him, me pushing myself off the floor. Troy's smiling. "I think we're good. That was perfect." Oh thank god.

Sean grins at me as he throws on a robe, finally covering that delicious body. How I went that whole time without my eyes wandering that I have no idea. I shrug on my own robe as well before we consult with Troy for the next scenes we have to do.

I'm exhausted. I don't think any scene I've ever done has required that much restraint. I'm still surprised I made it through that whole thing without doing something stupid, like tackling Sean in his state of undress or coping a feel and blaming it on the proximity. Probably for the best anyway, considering he's a freaking black belt and I'd probably find myself learning whole new ways my body could bend painfully if I had done so. Still would have been worth it.

When we're clothed it's not as hard (no pun intended). When I can't see that golden expanse of taught skin and muscle, laid bare to the world, it's a lot easier to keep myself in check. Well, it was. Now, when I look at him, I get flashes of him bare in front of me. I'm Murphy. I'm Murphy. I'm Murphy fucking MacManus who does NOT want to screw his twin brother.

We're both exhausted by the time the day is over. As we're leaving set, Sean turns to me. Just Sean, though he's still dressed as Connor. He grins and fuck me he's too gorgeous for it to be legal. I'd love to be the police officer that gets to arrest him for that. Slam him down on the hood of my patrol car, pin those strong tan arms behind his back as I lean down to growl in his ear as his breath puffs against the cold metal and I really need to stop thinking things like that if I know what's good for me.

"You busy tonight?" Sean asks, still grinning as we begin to make our way towards our trailers to change. I shrug because I don't really trust myself to talk right now. He turns away to look ahead, still grinning, as we walk. "Interested in going out for a drink or two?"

I shrug again, digging in my pocket for Murphy's pack of smokes. I wonder if Troy realizes that the reason Murphy almost never has any is because I always smoke them when not on set. "Sure," I say, trying to be noncommittal, not be eager and practically scream yes at him before going breathless. "Why not, I could use a pick me up after today."

Sean laughs lightly, stretching slightly as we walk and looking over at me. "What? Normy's tired?"

"Fuck you," I say, though I'm grinning. He laughs and I shove him slightly. If he's a seven year old I'm an eight year old. He shoves back and we scrapple for a minute before leaving to our trailers to get out of Connor and Murphy and finally be Sean and Norman again.

I'm barely there for twenty minutes, chasing images of naked!Sean from my mind and angrily lighting a cigarette when someone's pounding on my door. "Who is it?" I shout, not really wanting to bother opening the door. I'm comfortable on my couch and screw you if you expect me to answer the goddamn door.

"Ah, hello, is Norman Reedus there?" a weird slightly lilting voice calls from behind the door. Before Boondock I would have been curious as to who was behind the door. Now I know better. Or at least I hope I do. Either way, I'm playing along.

"What?" I shout, trying hard not to let my grin show in my voice.

"Ah, yeah, Norman Reedus?" the voice says again, a slight draw at the end. "I'm looking for him. This is Anthony Harkenstein."

I'm smiling from the couch as I watch the door. I can't see Sean from my window but I'm positive he's outside my door. "What do you want?" I call.

"Hey," 'Anthony Harkenstein' calls. "Uh, how're you doing, babe?" I'm trying to swallow a laugh. "I've missed you. You wanna open the door or something? This whole talking to a door thing really isn't my thing. I like to look at the gorgeous men I talk to."

I have to hold my cigarette and bite my fist to keep from laughing audibly. Finally, I manage to yell back. "Who are you?" Sean's the only one I'll play this game with. It's fun, it's stupid, and it's undeniably Sean.

I hear a sigh from outside the door. "It's Anthony Harkenstein! C'mon! How can you not remember me! After all that passion? Don't do this to me, Norman, I'm a fragile being. I have feelings you know, feelings of which apply to you." How Sean manages to do this shit without laughing I'll never know.

"What happens in Vegas stays in Vegas, babe," I shout back, grinning to myself. As far as I know, no one Sean has ever done this to actually has played completely along. Usually I'm watching him when he's on the phone, outside a door, or something else, when the other person has no idea who it is. It was only a matter of time before he tried it on me.

It's quiet for a moment. "Are you telling me that what we shared meant nothing to you? Because I thought we had something, I thought we had established something together. Are you backing out on me, Normy? Because I just can't accept that."

I'm biting my fist again, wiping a hand across my mouth as I finally stand up and walk towards the door, grinning as I'm being as quiet as possible. "What's there to accept?" I say before wrenching the door open and coming face to face with-

Not Sean.

Holy shit.

I'm usually a pale person. The opposite of Sean's gold, but fuck if I'm probably not paper white right now. It takes me a moment to recognize one of the extras from set before Sean jumps out from the side and throws an arm around each of us, myself and the extra, laughing like a madman.

"Ha Ha! Holy shit you should have seen your face, Norman!"

I think I'm in shock.

The other guy is laughing, obviously having enjoyed playing along with Sean and his retarded prank. Sean finally releases us and I'm able to try to find my feet, which I think I left in the trailer. I can't help but laugh a bit myself and grin at Sean even as I whap him a few. He laughs as he dances out of harms way, me following at just a few feet, grinning as we, yet again, scuffle. I swear to god he's going to be the death of me some day.

Going out for a few drinks somehow became a big affair, half the crew and cast all trudging to a bar for drinks and frivolity. Sean and I are next to each other at the bar, joking and laughing. He's four drinks in. I'm seven. I'm just thinking to myself that this will be a fun night, my internal voice laced with sarcasm, when Sean flings an arm over me, leaning close.

Oh Fuck me.

How is it that every time I go drinking with Sean I manage to forget that he gets extremely handsy and touchy-feely, always keeping contact. I know we're friends but Christ if he keeps doing that he might not like where it leads him. Not that I'm entirely complaining. It's one of the few times I can touch him and enjoy it, knowing he'll never remember it later. And God is it nice to just feel him there, against me, skin searing hot even through clothing. Not for the first time do I wish things were different. That maybe he felt the same sort of pulling want, need, desire, fucking draw that I do towards him.

But I know it's one sided. Sean is straighter than the Washington Monument and, even if he wasn't, wouldn't be interested in me in the slightest.

That doesn't mean I can't enjoy my own little fantasies here and relish in these touches. Having him pressed against me, his hair brushing my neck and face, his hand gently wrapped around my shoulder, knees touching under the bar. Smiling to myself, I silently slip my arm around his waist and shift gently, allowing for him to move further against me as I lean towards him, expecting him to make some sort of stupid comment.

"I'm the older brother."

The fuck?

My confusion apparently showed on my face because he grinned that fox grin of his and looked at me with eyes which either suggested arrogance or sex. Or both. I don't care at this point I just don't want them to leave mine.

"I'm the older twin."

Oh fuck me he's talking about the movie, the brothers, the competition to see whose older which Ma basically finally revealed today when she told them it was the one with the bigger-

Oh.

Sean's grin gets even more devious as he sees comprehension draw over my face before I scowl at him. Turning away and trying extremely hard not to blush, I rock away just slightly and glare at him. "Fuck you," I growl out, though there's no real malice in it. What does he know? I was in a fuckin' towel for almost the entire scene. Might as well point that out. "Like you know," I jibe. "I was in a fuckin' towel, not giving a show like you."

I'm trying to figure out if that came out wrong as he's laughing slightly and taking another gulp of beer, grinning at the bartender before turning back to me. "Putting on a show? You calling me an exhibitionist?"

Sean as an exhibitionist. I don't think it's at all safe for my mind to go in that direction. Too late.

His eyes widen a fraction before he grins like it's fucking Christmas. I turn away and look as hard as I can at my drink. Maybe seven drinks was too much. Or too little. I flag down the bartender for another shot, quickly throwing it back and specifically ignoring Sean.

"Want me to put on a show for you?" Fuck, now his voice needs to be illegal too. The image of myself shoving him against the patrol car flashes again and I hate alcohol for clouding judgement because my body obviously no longer knows it's a bad idea to react to him when he's so close. When his breath is fanning against my face, his arm draped over me and his thigh pressed against mine. "Want ta actually find out who th' real older brother is? Where yer not wearing a fuckin' towel, who cares about th' fuckin' hot water, an' M'not icing meself?" He's slipped into Connor's voice, the irish lilt sending a jolt up my spine.

But that's all I need and I'm suddenly Murphy, talking with my brother at the bar. "As long as ya don' go crying ta Ma when ya find out I'm the oldest." I turn to him, smirking as his eyes widen slightly before he scowls.

"Don't do that," Sean says, still frowning at me.

I raise my eyebrows. "Do wha'?" I ask. Murphy's confused. Norman's drunk and wanting and Murphy's confused because Sean's suggestive and gorgeous and Connor's being difficult. Who are we again?

"That!" Sean snaps, now Sean again. "It hurts my feelings." And he's 'Anthony Harkenstein' again.

I shrug. "What happens in Vegas stays in Vegas, babe," I say, repeating the line from earlier tonight.

Sean is silent for a moment (that's rare), his face contemplative. Now Norman's confused and doesn't know who Sean is. "We're not in Vegas," he says, eyes never leaving mine. I'm suddenly even more aware of how close we are. Our arms around each other, legs toughing, my face literally less than a foot from his. He's one of those rare people that can pull of a scruff.

I swallow. "So." Please tell me that this is real and not just the alcohol.

Sean just looks at me. Is it possible to drown in someone's eyes? Because I think I'm doing that. Or I'm just finally feeling all the alcohol I've had tonight. I could honestly sit and look at him all night. Of course, I'd love to do more than that, but, honestly, if that's all I can do, I'm more than happy just losing myself in those eyes.

"Oh fuck me." It slips out before I can stop myself, the words having been repeating around in my head for the last ten minutes and finally now gaining freedom. Is it really possible to eat your own words? I'd love to do that right about now.

Sean's eyes flicker for a moment before he grins, that hint of mischief visible in his eyes. "Are you offering?"

My ass hurts. So does my head and elbow. I'm staring up at the ceiling of the dimly lit bar, one leg still hooked over the bar stool while the other is at an extremely odd angle. And Sean's looking down at me, laughing heartily. How the fuck did I get on the floor?

"Did you seriously just fall out of your own fucking chair?"

Ask and you shall receive.

Scowling I push myself up, groaning slightly as I feel my head, elbow, and posterior twinge unpleasantly. Half the bar is laughing now, members of the crew and cast delighting in the scene as Sean is practically crying he's laughing so hard.

"Shut the fuck up," I snap though I'm trying not to laugh myself as I use the bar to haul myself up.

Sean grins. "If I knew saying that would make you fall over yourself I'd have done it sooner!" he exclaims. And fuck if I don't lose my grip and fall over again, sending Sean into yet another bout of laughter along with the whole bar.

Finally managing to properly get to my feet, I nod to all of them, grimacing slightly and waving them off. "Yeah, yeah, laugh it up." They're so good at following directions.

I'm finally seated again, the bartender grinning as Sean gets control of himself. I steal his drink and down it in retaliation. He just thinks that's funny too the damn bastard.

"I think you should cut him off," Sean say to the bartender, grinning at the man.

The man shakes his head slightly. "And miss shit like that? No way." Such kind people around me. "You two are too entertaining anyway."

"Don't tell him that," I say, leaning over the bar slightly and pointing at him meaningfully. The fact that I'm swaying slightly is just emphasis. "You'll just make his head bigger that it already is." Sean pouts at me. I shrug.

"You popping my balloon?"

"Well, I can't pop your cherry so it's the next best thing." Oops.

Sean gives me the most interesting look I have yet to see on him. Kinda a mix between confusion, surprise, disgust, and fascination. It has me snorting into my new drink. I've never snorted beer out my nose and I don't want to start now, though that was a close one. The bartender at least thought it was funny.

Sean shakes his head, trying to pry the beer from my hands. Oh now that's not fair. "I think you've had enough," he tells my scowling face. I'm eight years old and he's not seven.

"You're not my mother," I pout at him.

"Yer right," he smirks, leaning towards me. "I'm yer brother."

I scowl. I don't want Connor right now. I want Sean. I've wanted Sean since we started this. Since I shadowed him, trying to make sure we actually seemed like brothers. I've wanted him. Not Connor. "No you're not," I grind out as he hauls me to my feet, beginning to shove me across the bar and to the door. He's only have four drinks. I've had nine. Wow, balance is seriously an issue. Who knew the room could spin like that. Sean catches me as I pitch towards a table. "You're my Sean." It came out unintentionally and once again I want to eat my words.

Sean stills in mid push, eyes searching me as I turn slightly, trying to hide the sudden red blooming on my face. No way would that pass as alcoholic flush. I scowl at him, hoping maybe that'll distract him from what I just said. He leans towards me slightly, making me swallow as his breath ghosts across my face, over the bare skin of my neck and ear.

"You're right," Sean says quietly. "I'm your Sean. Now let's go."

I think my brain shut down. I can do nothing but nod and let him guide me out of the bar. I don't really notice the cast and crew as I leave, and, thankfully, they don't really notice us. Accustomed to seeing Sean and Norman hanging out together, being friends and often dragging one of the other's drunk ass back to the motels at night. But even if they had been staring at us blatantly I wouldn't have noticed or cared.

Walking was, for some reason, incredibly simple in the bar. However, once I get out, it's like walking a fucking tightrope with an elephant. I think my feet are on strike. Or legs. They just don't work. I'm almost to the ground when Sean catches me, hauling my arm over his shoulder so we can properly walk back to the motel we're all staying in. By properly I mean he does most of the walking while I lean heavily against him and make it has hard as possible for him to keep his balance.

I'm silent for a grand total of two minutes and seventeen seconds. "Does that make me your Norman?" I blurt out. I'm going to pretend that wasn't slurred.

Sean, hauling me again to make sure I don't fall, flashes his gaze to me for a moment. "Of course not," he says and, if it weren't for him holding me up, I'd have fallen to the ground. As it is, I just stop using my legs all together. He stumbles for a moment, staring at my now limp body before looking at me. He suddenly chuckles. "You're my Normy."

It takes me a moment before I shove him lightly, once again using my legs. He laughs and pokes me. I nuzzle into his neck. He stills. I don't notice it until I realize we're not walking anymore. That we're standing in the middle of a sidewalk, he holding me up and me with my face buried in his neck. He smells wonderful, a slight spice and citrus emanating from that golden skin. Also a slight smoke smell mixed in with it. Unbidden, a small contented sound hums from my throat.

"Norman."

My eyes are closed and I don't draw away. I hum in response to him, not moving from his wonderfully smelling skin.

"You're smelling me."

"Astute observation, Captain," I mumble against his skin. "Anything else you'd like to point out?"

Sean's quiet for a moment. "You're drunk."

I frown slightly. I'm sure he can feel it against his skin. "You're point?"

Sean turns slightly towards me. I can feel the stubble of his jaw brush against the edge of my face. "Let's just get you back to the motel before you do something stupid then."

I draw away from him then, pouting slightly at him. "Like what?"

Sean stares at me for a second and I can feel my skin heat up slightly. Even in the dark, where everything is in shadow, he's still gorgeous, still glowing gold. Fucking adonis. "Something you'd regret in the morning."

I blink at him. My arm is still wrapped around his shoulders and his is still firm around my waist, keeping me upright. Right now, since we're not moving, it's pretty much unnecessary. I can stand fine. It's the walking I have a hard time with. Not that he needs to know that. "I can't think of anything I'd do tonight I'd regret in the morning," I say, unconsciously tightening my arm around his shoulder. I pause. "Except falling off that barstool," I concede, delighted at the light laugh and smile I earn. "That hurt. I would regret that."

"Crazy bastard," Sean mutters, once again dragging me towards the hotel. Grinning, I shove him lightly. He shoves back and we're seven and eight again with much poorer balance.

I've always loved how fast or slow things go when you're drunk. Conversations seem to last for hours when they're only ten minutes. Hour long walks take five seconds, and you only just leave a building before you're halfway across town. So, to me at least, we were barely walking for five minutes from the bar to the motel before we're pushing open the doors. Sober, the walk would have been a half hour.

Though I've sobered up a bit, I still turn to Sean, grinning widely. "I'm a fucking super hero," I tell him, feeling immensely proud of myself.

Sean laughs, waving at the lady at the info desk who simply shakes her head at us, smiling. "A super hero?"

"I've got super speed!" I declare, gesturing impressively as he continues to drag me down the hall we both are staying on. The entire walk we didn't change much, instead traveling the whole way with me leaning on him to walk and him dragging my drunk ass down streets. I did an excellent job trying to trip him and definitely touched places I couldn't if either of us were sober.

Sean laughs and rolls his eyes. "Sure you do," he says slightly patronizingly. "And I can climb up walls."

I laugh and shake my head. "So you're a ninja and Spiderman," I say, shoving him slightly which earns me a shove right back. We're halfway down the hall, passing him room as he drags me to mine at the end of the hall.

"And you're retarded and drunk," Sean says, grinning.

"Worse super hero name ever," I said, face dropping to dead serious as I stop and look at him. We last seven seconds before bursting out laughing. Somehow we separate, him bent over slightly as he laughs as I lean against the wall, giggling uncontrollably as I slide down to the floor, watching him.

"Oh fuck me," I said quietly to myself when we've finally calmed down, running a hand through my hair and not even considering standing up. I know it'll be a bad idea. Sean's grinning as he flops down opposite me.

"You keep saying that I'll think you mean it," Sean says, smirking stupidly opposite me, one of his legs bent at the knee as the other stretches out towards me.

I pause then let my arm flop down into my lap as I look directly at him. "It's not like you'd take me up on it," I mutter turning away slightly. The door to my room is about twenty feet down the hall. It'll take me about eighteen minutes to haul myself there if I want. Half an hour if I'm feeling lazy. Maybe I'll just sleep here.

I hear Sean shift but don't look up until I feel something brush against my face, causing me to jerk my head around. Holy fuck when did Sean get that close. I swallow heavily as I look up at him, hovering a few inches above me, one hand braced on the wall behind me and the other propped on the floor. I don't know where his legs are and I don't care. His eyes are half lidded and I'm drowning again.

"Are you actually offering?" God, his voice needs to be illegal for what it does to my nerves and blood pressure. I think I already made it illegal though. Who gives a fuck, it's illegal all over again.

I can't form words, just stare at him as I feel my breath begin to pick up, my heart beat faster as my eyes flicker from his eyes to his mouth back to his eyes and oh fuck me I'm losing it. I lean up slightly, mouth parted a little and groan as he jerks back.

"Don't do something you'll regret in the morning," Sean practically breathes against my lips, the warning getting lost in that sensation as I feel my arms begin to itch, begin to ache, my body's temperature rising and it's all his fault.

"Shut up," I growl, swiftly bringing my hands up to bury forcefully in his hair and yank him forward to me, my mouth finally crushing against his almost painfully. I don't care that this technically shouldn't be real, that he's supposedly straighter than the Washington Monument, that he'd never want someone like me, that it's probably one sided. I'm drunk and horny and fucking want him so bad it hurts.

I groan against him, relishing in the feel of his mouth against mine and holy fuck he's intoxicating. Sean's smell is all I can smell, my fingers buried in his hair with a grip that I'll never let go. I don't know when my eyes closed but it doesn't matter. I'm drowning in heat and want and Sean. He groans and I feel like my stomach just dropped off of Everest when his mouth opens slightly, mine instantly doing the same as our tongues come out to join the fun and God he tastes good. I can feel his arms twine around me and I want nothing more than to pull him down to the floor with me and roll about. I want us to be as naked as we were earlier today, no towel this time, no fucking phone, just us. No Connor or Murphy, just Sean and Norman.

"Jesus Christ, you serious?" Sean says breathlessly. Apparently I just said all of that out loud.

I groan. Way to go Norman. Don't act wanton or desperate or anything. Oh fuck me.

"If you insist," Sean says, grinning as he crashes his mouth against mine again. I really need to work on keeping my thoughts in my head and not vocal. Though, right now, they seem to be fine with the light of day.

I don't know if he picked me up or dragged me up but we're suddenly standing and falling through the door to his room, hands excitedly roaming over each other as out mouths engage in some sort of primal battle of dominance. It's dark and I'm blind as a bat in here as Sean steers me somewhere. Not that I'm complaining, just as long as he doesn't take his hands off of me. His hands that I've wanted to feel against me for too long now. Hands that are tugging at my shirt insistently.

"Absolutely," I say without even being asked and swiftly ripping off my shirt before diving for his, my mouth latching onto his neck as soon as it's laid bare, sucking and lapping at his gorgeous skin.

"Holy fuck," Sean moans out, hands running along my skin and tugging here and there as I pull him as hard against me as possible. Fortunately we've reached the bed, because I've lost my balance and we're sprawling over the mattress in a tangle of limbs and curses and lust. Then we're fighting, rolling over each other and trying to pin the other to the bed. "What happened to 'fuck me' huh?" Sean pants out against my skin as we roll against each other yet again, him finally pinning me to the bed.

Lurching up, I suck the lobe of one of his ears into my mouth, teething it gently as I roll my hips against him, delighting in the groan it entices. Releasing his ear and licking the skin gently, I begin trailing kisses along his jaw and neck. "What, you thought I wouldn't put up a fight?" I breathe against his heated skin, shivers wracking my spine as he grinds down into my rolling hips, creating a delicious friction that has me almost trembling under him.

"Fuck you," Sean gasps, biting harshly at my skin as he grinds against me again, a light sheen of swear beginning to form from out activities.

I grin up at him. "You offering? Don't do something you'll regret in the morning." I'm spitting his words back at him. He stares at me a moment before smirking and leaning down so our noses barely touch, rolling his hips leisurely against mine and holy fuck that's just torture.

"Who says I'll regret it?"

If I ever wondered if I could take off my pants in under ten seconds, I've now discovered that, yes, it is possible. I can also take off Sean's pants in under seven. Well, almost, he's still wearing fucking shoes. I'm sure I just moved in some ways even Mr. Martial arts here would be impressed by. I'm driven and lust is at the wheel with Sean riding shotgun. I hiss when skin finally touches skin and holyfuckyesohfuckohgodmore.

Above me, Sean's grinning and setting us into some sort of rhythm, my hands digging into his sides as white heat races up my body, reaching every fucking pore and all I can think, say, breathe, is Sean.

"Eager?"

Coy ass hole.

"Fuck." I have the worse responses.

"We're getting there," Sean rasps out, hands groping against my skin and all I want is more. That is, until he slaps my face.

"Norman!"

Fuck that hurt! I glare up at him but something's wrong. He's still a fucking adonis, but he's not naked.

I'm being slapped again.

I'm not naked.

"NORMAN!"

We're both not naked, Sean's looking concerned, and this definitely isn't his motel room.

Fuck.

Me.

I groan to signify life and attempt to push myself up. Sean helps me, a hand on my back and head, which hurts like a bitch by the way. We're still in the goddamn bar with the bartender looking at me curiously and Troy and Sean looking like they're about to shit themselves. This is fucking fantastic. On the good side, at least the humiliation and sinking horror have killed my libido. I knew I had a creative mind and imagination (it's the artist in me I guess) but who knew it would go that far. Remind me not to drink after long exposure to an exposed Sean.

"What happened?" I ask, though I'm pretty sure I can figure things out, just don't know where it all started. I wince and bring a hand up to my head. Fuck that hurt, whatever I did, at least according to my head and side it really fucking' hurt.

Sean sighs and runs a hand over his face, his eyes still scanning over me as if he expects me to go limp or explode on him. It'd be fun to freak him out and just go ragdoll. He'd kill me for it later though. "I was trying to get you home when you suddenly decided to make friendly with a table, then some chairs and finally the floor. Couldn't catch you in time."

Oh yeah. Vaguely, I remember seeing some swiftly traveling tables and chairs while Sean pushed me across the bar except according to my brain Sean did catch me and then walk with me back to the motel where my pants really need to be less tight right now or I need to STOP letting myself think shit like that around Sean. I groan.

"What happened to your ninja reflexes?" I grind out, attempting to push myself to my feet. Troy is still looking at me worriedly. Though, judging from his glazed eyes, he's fuckin' tanked. Wonderful. Sean is pushing me back down, still looking concerned.

"They only go so far when your friend and costar decide to plow into local furniture," Sean says, a smile quirking his mouth. "The way you went down was with determination. I don't think I could have stopped you if I wanted."

"Fuck you," I growl out, once more trying to get up. Sean, once more, pushes me back down. "What the fuck, let me up already."

Sean scowls. "You might be seriously injured."

I just want to get to my room and away from you so I don't fucking jump you in a goddamn bar. I just want to be left in my own humiliation and not have you watch it. I want to never face the reality that what my drunken mind supplied me will never be a reality. Of course I'm not going to say that out loud. "I'm fine," I snap, shoving him away and hastily pushing myself to my feet, making my way determinedly from the bar, not bothering to look behind me as I leave.

I can fucking feel Sean following me.

"Norman!"

I ignore him as I fish around for my pack of cigarettes, placing one of them between my lips and quickly lighting it with expertise that only comes with years of practice. Please don't follow me please don't follow me please don't-

A hand on my shoulder forces me to turn around and face Sean's concerned and angry face. "What the fuck?"

Oh how easy would it be to just lean forward and claim those lips like I had supposedly, according to my brain, already done once tonight. "I'm fine Sean, just tired. I'm going to bed."

Obviously Sean's not pleased with that response. "Like hell you are," he snaps out.

I'm losing patience and self restraint. "What, you want to come with me or something?!" Something must seriously be wrong with me.

Sean stares at me for a second and I'm probably blushing like a teenage girl. Feeling embarrassed, stupid, and way too tempted, I turn from him and walk down the sidewalk. Fuck this shit.

"You might have a concussion!" Sean yells, once again catching up with me as I take a swift drag from my cigarette.

"I'm fine," I snap, my resolve about to do the same. Apparently Sean is having stupendous difficulty in understanding that I'm trying to get away from him. Technically, I'd like to get closer to him, but since that's pretty much impossible, I'll settle for getting away.

"You don't know that," Sean counters.

"So what, you want to give me a fuckin' physical?" I stop and glare at him. I can't do it for too long, can never be mad at Sean for too long, not when he looks at me with those eyes and that expression, and holy fuck he's beautiful.

"I'm concerned," Sean places both hands on my shoulders and shakes me slightly, leaning towards me a little and the last of my resolve snaps. He's just so close, right there in front of me, and it'd be so easy to just lean in slightly and press my lips to his.

Like I'm doing right now.

Oh.

Sean's eyes go wide and I realize what I'm doing, jerking back with a gasp and backing away from him. "Sorry," I say instantly though, really, I'm not sorry at all. I'm looking anywhere but at him though I can feel his eyes on me. He hasn't moved at all, his arms simply limp by his sides as he looks at me. I take a drag from my cigarette, fidgeting slightly. This is painful, this awkward whatever-the-fuck-it-is. I can't be here right now. I'm walking before I know it, the world still moving at a few odd angles but really, I could care less right now. Just want to put some distance between myself and that sure to be accusatory look and confusion and holy fuck what did I just do.

"Norman."

Fuck.

My legs stop on their own but fortunately I don't turn around. I don't think I could if I wanted. I take another drag in hopes to calm myself. Sean says nothing else and, after a beat or two, I continue walking, walking back to the motel, alone this time, to collapse into bed and try not to strangle myself in the sheets with how completely and utterly retarded I am.

Fuck. Me.


TBC....


A/N: Please review. I like reviews.