On and Off

Title: On and Off
Author: drainbamage954
Rating: NC-17
Fandom: The Boondock Saints, Sean Patrick Flanery and Norman Reedus
Genre: PWP, Romance, General
Wordcount: 8,037
Warnings: Yaoi, slash, men being naughty with each other, language.
Summary: It's been two weeks since this whole thing began and there's a huge difference between what it's like on and off set. Well, a huge difference that only they know about.
Disclaimer: I do not own The Boondock Saints nor do I own Sean or Norman. They own themselves.... or each other. I dunno. I just love them.
Notes: This is set directly after 'Fuck Me.' Sadly, unlike 'Fuck Me' it is not a two shot. I got lazy and it's just a oneshot. Twoshots will continue in this series. This is way before 'It's Ethics' by the way. I'm gonna do the inbetween stuff now. Try to build their relationship a bit. Enjoy!


On and Off


It had been two weeks.

Two weeks since I had woken up to the telephone ringing like an angry cat in the lazy sunlight. Two weeks since I had groaned, rolling over to freeze at the other occupant in the bed before swiftly answering the phone. Two weeks since Troy's voice had come down the line, telling me to get up for filming in a few hours and go drag Sean out of bed because the bastard wasn't answering his phone.

It had been two weeks since I hung up the phone.

Since Sean groaned beside me, face down in bed, stretching like a feline before turning his face to squint in the morning light at me, smiling tiredly. Two weeks that I watched him with stunted breath, waiting. "Good Morning" was all he said before soundly kissing me, washing away any doubts I had about the previous night being something he would want to forget.

Sean proved he didn't want to forget about last night's interesting turn of events two times that morning. Once immediately after the good morning kiss and again when I came out of the shower, making it so I had to take another one with an incredibly sore back.

We were both late arriving on set that day.

Troy didn't ask why, he just gave us a searching look and shook his head. He didn't want to know.

The rest of the cast and crew wrote it off as a hangover.

"Well, you were pretty drunk last night," Sean said to me very audibly as we set up to shoot the next scene.

"You're one to talk," I said, smiling slightly.

Sean grinned back, that spark of mischief in his eyes making me feel slightly giddy. "I wasn't the one who plowed into a table and chairs."

It had been two weeks since we returned to Boondock after our night of revelation. Exploration one might say. Two weeks since he began coming to my room when no one would see him, closing the door quietly behind him. The first night, I was in the bathroom and he assaulted me, landing us both ass over teakettle falling into the bathtub. It left a nasty bruise on my thigh and him laughing hysterically.

A week ago, Troy told us we'd be finally moving to a location instead of musty motels that had god knows what growing under the beds.

A week ago that we got separate trailers on opposite sides of the area from each other.

A week ago that Sean caught my eye over Troy's shoulder and raised an eyebrow.

It's been two weeks of furtive glances, unseen touches, a small smile no one else knows the meaning of. It's been like being kids, playing a game of hide and seek, keeping a secret from everyone else and only between us. It's a game that isn't a game and I never want to stop playing.

I woke up alone this morning feeling stiff in bed and despising the ineffective blinds of the trailer. It was colder than other mornings and I swore when I realized the time was as late as it was. Throwing on something I didn't bother checking, I hurried to the make up trailer just about the same time Sean leaves.

The collision has hot coffee and a donut decorating both of us in sugar, hot liquid, and sprinkles.

"Holy fuck!" Sean yells as the coffee hits, me yelping about the same time. A minute later he's laughing though, myself smiling despite the burning liquid currently dribbling down my front.

"You know, I thought I'd be nice and bring you breakfast, considering you didn't seem to be with the living yet," Sean says, using the handful of napkins he had been carrying with the donut to try to mop the coffee from himself. "Just goes to show how good deeds go rewarded."

"You're idea of a nice wake up was spilling hot coffee on someone?" I said, smirking at him as we both turned to walk back into the make up trailer. "Pretty skewed idea of a nicety."

Sean cuffs me up the back of the head, letting his hand rest there for a moment before he ruffles my hair. The small touch doesn't go unnoticed. He's grinning at me and I can't help but smile back. Then his eyes widen as he looks me over.

"Fuck," he breathes, suddenly pushing me backwards and out of the trailer. I can see the makeup girls giving us odd looks. I shake my head at them, giving them an 'I don't know, he's just weird' look in explanation.

Once outside he's pushing me hurriedly back to my trailer, which is the exact opposite of where we're supposed to be.

"You wanna tell me the problem?" I said in a hushed voice, turning half sideways as we walk, being jolted forward as he shoves me again, looking around in what I can only describe as a covert manner.

"You're wearing my shirt," Sean says with a raised eyebrow and look of urgent amusement on his features. I look down and, sure as fuck, I am. Not only that, but it's the same shirt he wore yesterday. A slightly steely blue, now with a giant brown coffee stain down the front but, still, unmistakable in ownership.

There's no way I own a shirt like that. Especially since it's slightly tight on me, something I didn't notice when I threw it on this morning.

It's the shirt he threw off at some point last night in my tailer. The shirt he forgot when he stumbled out early this morning before I woke up, probably just wearing one of mine or a sweatshirt.

"Well shit," I say, not really thinking of anything else to say at the moment.

"Yeah, shit," Sean confirms, shoving me through the door of my trailer and up the steps before he turns at the door, waving at someone outside and grinning. "Just giving a lesson in proper attire," he shouts before slamming the door behind him and running up and directly into me.

I groan from the floor with him on top of me. "We seem to have developed this habit of colliding frequently," I say, wincing slightly as I feel my hip dig into the floor uncomfortably. He's lying on top of me, face somewhere around my shoulder blade as his arm is in my face.

He tries to say something but it's kinda hard to distinguish, considering he says it while his face is still pressed against my back. "You might want to repeat that," I suggest, smiling slightly to myself as he harumphs and moves enough that he's no longer speaking into my back.

"I said we should work on our coordination," Sean tells me, half propped above me as I try and reason out my bodies position on the floor.

I grin up at him, head half propped on an arm. "I dunno, I kinda like where this lands us," I say, ignoring the fact that I'm lying on the floor of a trailer and instead paying attention to the man perched above me.

Sean's smile is as beautiful as I've ever found it, full of good humor and potential mischief. "You like finding yourself on the floor?" he says, glancing around briefly. "Well, I'll have to keep that in mind. When in doubt, throw Norman to the floor."

I'm laughing as he pushes himself off of me and groans slightly. He gives me a look as if to say 'you gonna just lie there?' to which I simply grin. I'm still learning him and he me. We're in that so-called honeymoon phase I suppose. Where everything is light and fluff and sparkly.

Well, maybe not sparkly.

Sean would smack me if he knew I called this sparkly.

We're decidedly not sparkly.

"You're still wearing my shirt and we're still late for having girls put shit on our faces," Sean tells me, looking down at me and smiling slightly.

"I know," I say from the floor. I roll just enough so I'm completely on my back, looking up at him with my hands behind my head, probably stretching out his shirt a bit. "I can tell them you were fussing over coloring."

Sean snorts, rolling his eyes as he steps over me towards my bedroom. Almost our bedroom considering the number of times he's slept there in the past two weeks. Well, week considering we just got these trailers a week ago. Either way, that's six days out of seven. I roll over onto my stomach, watching him as he disappears around the corner of the door, obviously headed towards the pile of shit known as my clothing selection.

"I do not fuss over your clothes," Sean hollers to me from the room as I grin on the floor, simply waiting for him to reappear. "There's nothing to fuss about. You wear the same goddamn thing almost every day."

"It works for me," I call back to him, noticing a stain on the carpet I know I didn't make. Nothing I own is that green nor do I know of anything in this trailer which could stain something that green. "I don't really have to think about what I wear. I just put something on."

Sean pokes his head around the side of the door, a raised eyebrow in my direction. "Like this morning when you put on my shirt."

I wave my hands indifferently. "Simple mistake."

Sean rolls his eyes as he disappears, returning a moment later with two shirts, tugging his own over his head. I raise my eyebrows at this. "I thought we had to be on set five minutes ago."

Sean nudges me with his foot at the comment, tossing his shirt onto the couch I dragged in two days ago absently. "Get up and stop stretching out my shirt," he says, dropping a dark blue shirt on my head as he steps over me, tugging one of my few gray shirts over his head. "And get your mind out of bed. I can't walk around topless. That'd just be mean."

"I don't see why not," I said, sitting up and finally taking off the coffee decorated shirt and throwing it at him. "I'd certainly enjoy it." He frowns at me patronizingly. "Or were you referring to it being cruel and unusual punishment for all the people who can't have you because you're off limits."

Sean points a finger at me meaningfully. "Keep that attitude behind closed doors, Normy," he says, a serious glint in his eye. "Let's not go parading around and break all those poor peoples dreams of ever having us." I sigh, knowing this conversation wont go the way I want it to no matter how much I try. Mainly, in the direction Sean just came from, with an unmade bed and pile of laundry. Grunting slightly, I push myself to my feet and face him, hands gesturing briefly.

Sean grins, obviously pleased I've rallied. "Good Normy," he says, patting me lightly on the cheek before turning to walk down the steps and out of the trailer. He knows that, despite my tolerance of his nickname for me, I'm not exactly partial to it. To enforce this, I give him a sharp slap on the ass.

A pretty good hit if I say so myself. A hit which has him freezing and turning slowly around to face me, face unreadable as I smirk at him.

He knows why I slapped him.

He hesitates for a moment before bringing up a hand to my face, hovering there for a moment before wrapping around the back of my neck and bringing my face to his, eyes falling closed on instinct as his mouth closes over mine. I don't hesitate when I feel his lips part against mine, instead freely letting the kiss deepen and intensify, bringing my hands up to wrap around his arm and thread through his hair.

I could never tire of this.

After a moment, he draws away, both our eyes opening, slightly hazed, as his hand still rests at the back of my neck, mine tangled in his short hair. He grins cockily and points at me with his free hand. "Save that sort of behavior for later," he says, suddenly bright and teasing. "Right now we're late."

He gives me two short taps with his hand at the back of my neck, making me jerk slightly and almost groan in annoyance as he turns from me and practically bursts from the trailer. With Sean, it's always about either work or doing something. When we're not filming, he's practicing his karate shit, going over the script, exploring the goddamn city. Getting him to sit still is like getting a dog to walk on his hind legs.

But it works somehow.

I suppose it's why I'm so attracted to him. He balances me. I'm more laid back, intraverted, and calm where he's always energetic, doing something, excitable. There's never a dull moment with Sean. Also, all his activity isn't to say he's neglectful. In a way, concerning the way things are currently, they're almost a necessity. I'm sure if he spent as much time with me as I want and hope he wants to, we'd be glaringly obvious. It would take no time at all for the crew and cast and, eventually, the press, to get ahold of the story that Sean and Norman aren't as straight as people thought and definitely not straight for each other.

Yeah, that'd be just what both of us need.

And so, on set and most of the time, Sean and I are just friendly, me returning to my trailer to be all artsy and stuff, smoking my way into an early death while he goes off and does more things than normal humans are capable of. To the rest of the world, we're friends. Good friends, but friends none the less.

Except for the spare looks we give each other between takes. The knowing glances and unseen touches behind the camera that no one knows about but us.

No one knows that Sean typically sneaks into my trailer in the middle of the night to poke me awake during a REM cycle, grinning like an idiot before I haul him into bed with me. Granted, we haven't done a whole lot since, well, the first night, but that's not to say we've been innocent. I just needed a bit of time to recuperate.

No one knows that Sean will sneak out of bed in the early morning hours back to his own trailer, both of us significantly more mussed than usual, half groggy with sleep before even the faintest traces of dawn hit the sky.

No one knows this but us.

Smiling softly to myself, I follow him out of the trailer, letting the door slam behind me carelessly as we make our way to the makeup trailer again. We're immediately greeted by the girls, now slightly annoyed at the time, shoving us into our seats and beginning to put shit on our faces before almost throwing us into costume.

Troy's clearly not happy with us when we finally get on set, me smiling apologetically while Sean laughs and rubs the back of his neck. However, instead of being chewed out, we just get immediately to filming. We did the meat packing plant and bar fight the last two weeks, working on locations and angles and getting a day or two off while moving around locations.

Now, today, we're finally doing the scene that has had Sean and myself excited and nervous for.

The scene which has us standing in high combat boots, boxers, and bathrobes in the set of our nasty loft apartment.

I think Troy likes putting the brothers in various states of undress.

Either that or he's already thinking of fanservicing.

We know the drill, know our characters fairly well by now, know what to do to slip into character and become the MacManus twins, waking up after a long night of drinking and fighting.

"Action!" begins what is a long and exhausting day. Full of yelling and mobsters and fake blood and nasty water everywhere. The scene is serious, making joking a bit more difficult, though it is possible for us. Well, humor is never a far stretch with Sean in the room.

Troy tolerates it until we're finally outside in the alley.

We can only really shoot this scene once he tells us. So get it right goddamnit.

"Why can we only shoot it once?" Sean asks, sniffing slightly in the slightly chilly air. I'm standing beside him in my own bathrobe, absently biting my nails.

"Because we only have one goddamn toilet," Troy says in his Troy way, giving Sean a pointed look before turning back to the ass bandaged actor who plays Chekov.

"That sounds like a constipated man's nightmare," Sean mutters under his breath, turning from Troy as he looks up the fire escape to where he'll be standing. I think I'm the only one who hears the comment, seeing as I'm the only one around snorting with laughter into the sleeve of the nasty bathrobe. Sean looks sideways at me and grins.

The problem wasn't shooting the scene itself. That went off without a hitch.

The problem was the scenes surrounding it. The build up with Murph being thrown behind a dumpster (Chekov kept screwing up his lines and Sean slipped once on the barrels on the fire escape). Then Troy kept stopping us mid scene immediately after the jump and drop. Repositioning cameras, people, lights, props. I had to pick up Sean about fifteen times, slinging him over my shoulder, before Troy was happy with it.

One of them Sean burst out laughing halfway and accused me of tickling him.

Another time I tripped over one of the bags of garbage and it took the crew twenty minutes to get all the crap off of me.

However, finally, Troy told us we were done and told us to get cleaned up as he moved in the next batch for filming. We wished Willem and Bob luck as we passed them, the other actors already on set or making their way.

"Well, that was fun," Sean commented as we made our way to the costume and make up trailer (the Russian actors were still on set, being used for the detective scenes being shot).

"Yeah," I said somewhat sarcastically, absently rolling my shoulders and cracking my neck. "Picking you up about fifteen times is a blast."

Sean smirked and threw an arm around my shoulder, jerking me to him jovially as his hip subtly brushed mine. "Consider it exercise you never get," he said, grinning as the makeup trailer came into view. "Besides," he continued, lowering his voice just slightly. "You can't say you didn't enjoy it."

Despite the slow beginnings of an ache in my shoulders, I smile at him. "Maybe for the first few times," I admit, bumping him slightly. "Though you really didn't have to pinch so hard," I added, lowering my voice significantly. "I'm almost positive that'll leave a mark."

Sean said nothing, simply grinned deviously as we finally entered the makeup trailer, letting the girls get to fussing about us, taking the costumes and removing the fake blood from Sean. Needless to say, I was done and released to the solitude of my trailer much before he was, settling to taking a particularly warm and comfortable shower. I had just been contemplating actually attempting to contend with the mess of laundry in the corner when there was a knock on the door.

Curious, because at this point, Sean would be in his own trailer showering and absent until later tonight for either festivities or breaking and entering, I answered the door.

I raised an eyebrow at his not exactly trust worthy grin, arms braced on the frames of my door. "Mind if I use your shower?" Sean asked, motioning with his arms which currently hosted a few clothes, some soap and shampoo, and a towel. "Mine wont work for some reason."

Sighing as if resigned, I stepped back and let him in, closing the door behind him with a soft click. I turned to him, mouth opening to ask what was wrong with his shower onto to find myself being suddenly shoved against the now closed door quite enthusiastically as Sean insistently plundered my mouth. Giving a slightly shocked sound that only made it to the back of my throat, I immediately fumbled for the lock in the door, securing the thing before I risked being pushed through it.

Arms and hands, no longer holding towels, clothes, and shower supplies were roaming hotly up my sides, down my back, along my arms and teasing the hem of my shirt. With the door locked, I brought my own arms up to tangled in his short hair, pulling him to me greedily as I tilted me head, allowing for the kiss to expand, a soft moan bubbling up in my throat as I did so.

Panting, Sean drew back momentarily, resting his forehead against mine, noses just touching as our breathes mingled. "Sorry," he whispered against my mouth, eyes closed as his fingers gently rubbed through the fabric of my shirt, resting just along my waist and hips. "But do you have any idea how delicious you look in a bathrobe?"

I breathed a laugh against his lips, faint from the heat rising in my body. "Probably not as good as you did handcuffed," I breathed back, nudging my nose against him so our lips just barely touched, grazed each other sending them tingling as I felt my skin prickle. Seconds later I was gasping, hands fisting in his hair and mouth open wide as he ground hard against me, pushing a leg between my own and giving a firm and deliberate roll of his hips against mine.

"You're not allowed to talk like that," Sean growled against me, fingers firm and demanding as he pressed me hard against the door, the pain digging into my shoulders surprisingly arousing and making my heart pound even harder in my ribcage.

"I'm not allowed to tell you how fuckin' hot you looked, cuffed and vulnerable in only a fuckin' bathrobe and boxers?" I say, smirking against his mouth, enjoying it as his breathes become slightly ragged and his teeth grit. "I can't tell you that today was the first time I ever considered combat boots sexy?"

"Fuck," Sean spits out, wrenching me from the door and instead dragging me up the short flight of stairs and ripping my shirt up, his hands pushing up fabric as they run over my already heated skin, his mouth latched onto my neck. Moaning, I drop my head to the side, mouth open as my hands deftly pull at his shirt, dragging it up to his shoulders as my blunt nails dig into his skin.

I'm burning with a fire which is racing over my skin, fueling my racing pulse and gasping lungs, the arousal fogging my mind and senses. Sean's torturous mouth trails along my jaw, down my neck, and nips along my collarbone, his hands splayed over my chest.

It's still day, the light still outside. Sean usually doesn't come over until night, under the cover of darkness, slipping into bed with me to talk, caress, stroke, kiss, and move just to that point of stopping. It's as if he's been afraid to cross the line we did the first night. As if he wants to wait. At first I was grateful, not sure if I was ready. But then I wasn't, instead disappointed when he stopped.

Being brought off is never the same thing as sex.

He draws back for just a moment, just long enough to rip my shirt from me, growling slightly as he does so, eyes open and hazed, fogged with desire that I can feel pulsing in my body. He doesn't give me the chance to remove his own shirt before his mouth is back on mine, teeth clacking against each other and tongues sliding. I let out a slight moan of disappointment, my fingers pulling at the shirt currently bunched around his shoulders and chest. He bites my lip in response and grips my hips tightly, pulling me hard against him as he grinds slowly and deliciously against me.

I don't care if we fucking screw on the floor, I want him and I want him now.

Giving a firm and deliberate thrust of my hips which has him shudder slightly, I give a sharp tug at one of his belt loops, growling slightly in the back of my throat. Almost instantly he stills, hands freezing on my hips though still digging firmly into my skin, hips pressed together firmly and mouth breathing heavily against mine. Slowly, his eyes open, as if he's been collecting himself.

Swallowing, Sean breathes and his eyes close briefly, still pressed close to me. "Fuck Norman," he exhales as I can feel our bodies thrumming, electric with want. Blue eyes open to meet mine.

"I was thinking along those lines, yeah," I say breathlessly against him, giving a slight tug at his belt loop again, this time less insistent and more suggestive, accompanied by a slight roll of my hips which has his eyes closing again and breath hitching.

"It's the middle of the day," Sean says, as if he's trying to reason with himself more than me. It has me feeling annoyed and frustrated in both meanings of the word.

Usually, Sean's the one who's in control. I let him, have no problem letting him run the show, being the one shoving me against walls, pushing me down into the mattress at night, being the older brother. I let him.

But there reaches a point where I can't wait for him anymore, wait for him to take over. I wont wait for him anymore.

He's no more of a man than I am.

His eyes go wide when he hears my snarl and is thrown against the wall leading to my bedroom, surprise written across his features at my hands fisted in his bunched up shirt, pressing him hard to the wall as we reverse roles. Suddenly, he's the one being pressed hard against a wall, trapped between the architecture and my body, my hands firmly fisted in his shirt, keeping him in my possession, my mouth plundering his, dominating for once.

I'm tired of waiting, being patient. If he wont do something, then goddamnit I will.

He lets out a startled gasp as I bite harshly on his lip, dragging it between my teeth, a hand going up to fist in his hair as I thrust my hips forward harshly, enjoying the shudder that travels through his body from the contact. His eyes have drifted closed again, mouth responding eagerly to my advances, hands dragging down my sides and back, kneading the skin sensuously.

He barely opens his eyes, mouth open in a gasp, when I drag him along the wall, through the doorway and into the confines of my room, kicking off my shoes and finally ripping his shirt off of him. It's been on for far too long. He moans when I loop my thumbs into his jeans and drag him forward, rocking against him harshly, creating intoxicating friction.

If he's at all under false impressions of where this is going, they aren't going to last.

With a hook of my foot, I have him losing his balance, tumbling back into my bed with a grunt, myself falling on top of him on the way down and pinning him there, resting between his legs and slowly rocking. Kissing down his chest has him gasping softly, hands resting in my hair, lightly tugging as his eyes remain closed. Deftly, my fingers tickle along the waistband of his jeans, resting at the front where they easily pop the button and have him letting out a soft sigh. Beneath the fabric of his jeans I can feel his erection straining.

I can feel it in my own jeans as well. It's almost painful, only lessened by the reality of an impending release.

Finally dragging his pants off leaves him mostly naked, the front of his boxers tented and needing. The only problem is his pants wont come off.

"Goddamnit!" I swear, realizing the moron's still wearing his fucking shoes. Sean opens his eyes to my annoyed face and sits up slightly. "The fuck are you wearing shoes for!" I snap, propping myself above him with my arms and glaring down at his flushed skin and panting face.

"You're wearing pants," Sean says simply, frowning slightly as he tugs at them pointedly.

"Pant's aren't shoes," I growl, lowering myself slightly so I'm right above him. I've never been so annoyed at shoes in my entire life. I'm hot, I'm horny, and the only thing in my goddamn way is a fucking pair of shoes he forgot to take off. "How the fuck are we supposed to fuck if I can't get your fuckin' pants off!"

"So we're actually going to have sex," Sean clarifies and I've had enough. Snarling in frustration and animalistic need, I throw myself off him to the floor, harshly yanking off his shoes and pants in about three seconds before throwing myself back onto the bed and on top of him, one hand firmly gripping his hips as the other hastily undoes my own pants and jerks them off.

"Jesus fuck slow the fuck down!" Sean snaps, brows creased and hands braced against my shoulders, eyes flashing between my face and where I'm position between his legs.

"I'm tired of waiting," I pant out, finally kicking off my pants and dropping on top of him, pressing our chests flush against each other, the skin burning at the contact and sending a whole new wave of desire through me. "Fuck, Sean, please," I breathe out, pressing urgent kisses to his shoulders, collarbone, and neck, gasping at our hips move on their own accord. "I want you, need you so bad."

"Finally," Sean breathes and the next thing I know, I'm on my back, Sean straddling me and pressing my wrists into the mattress. He's leaning down over me, grinning that mischievous grin that has an entirely different meaning in these situations, sending a violent shudder along my spine and electrifying nerves and skin.

Hypersensitivity via facial expression.

"You have any idea how much I've wanted to hear that from you?" Sean breathes against my mouth, digging his hips into mine, pushing me hard into the mattress with such beautiful pain I'm seeing stars. "Too." Thrust. "Fucking." Grind. "Long." Roll of the hips has me moaning.

"Why the fuck didn't you do something?" I ask in what was supposed to be a demanding tone but which comes out breathy and weak. Goddamn him.

Sean says nothing for a moment, eyes closed and mouth panting against mine as he sets a slow rhythm which is torturous for me between our hips, stilling every time I buck to try to go faster. "I didn't know if you wanted to or were ready."

"Fuck you," I grit out, raising myself off the bed enough to press flush against him, he pushing back instinctively, hands strong around my wrists as I try to pull them from their confines.

"Other way around," he breathes as he shifts enough, slides down enough to push his way between my legs, legs which part against my will, making room for him. I want to growl, throw him off and reverse positions, but I can't. I'm too aroused and my body has a mind of it's own, delighting in the commanding presence Sean exudes, throbbing in anticipation as he switches his hold on my hands to be able to trail fingers down my arm, over my chest, and to my hips, pulling tantalizingly at the hem of my boxers.

I can't see, can't breathe, can't do anything but gasp and shudder as the cruel drag of fabric travels down my skin, over sensitized and burning. Can't do anything but moan when I feel him shift, feel him move back over me and lie down, pressed bare and flush against me, our erections meeting in a violent flash of color that has my back arching off the bed. The unmade sheets from this morning.

I've never been this vulnerable before, this pliant, with anyone. Sean's the first and only person who can get me this wanting, needing, goddamn crazy enough to almost beg, to have my body burning so badly I'd giving anything for release.

"Oh god," the words fall from my lips in drops of breath. "Fuck. Fuck fuck fuck. Now. God oh fuck." They don't make sense, just a string of profanity but I don't care. I just want, need, can't settle with just the friction between our two members.

I need more and have wanted more for a week now.

I'm tired of waiting.

Growling slightly, I thrust up hard against him, rolling my hips in a way I've learned he enjoys particularly. Internally I grin at the gasping moan that escapes his lips.

"Supplies," he moans, finally picking up the pace and rolling with me, releasing my wrists to grip almost my hips enough to bruise.

"Table," I gasp out, just trying to breathe when he shifts slightly, reaching to the table near my bed and fumbling for what I know is in there. I bought it as soon as we left the hotel, ensuring we'd have the necessities should the time arise. Like now. A moment later, I feel a slick finger press against me and arch involuntarily, mouth open.

He stops and I almost yell in annoyance. Gritting my teeth and finally opening my eyes, I use my now free hands to grab him by the back of the neck and drag him to face me. "If you stop now, I swear to fucking God I will kill you," I grind out to his slightly surprised face. He blinks once before kissing me hard, the invading digit pressing swiftly into me and making me moan.

It's not that it's comfortable, it's that I know what's coming. The second digit also would have been painful. Would have been if I didn't experiment on my own and figure out how to do this myself. Something I would never tell Sean but which, I imagine, will be beneficial in the long run.

The third finger has me impatient. It's not exactly painful but not really comfortable and I'm acutely aware that all the time preparing could be spent doing something much more satisfying.

"Goddamnit Sean," I say, pushing a hand between our bodies and wrapping it around our cocks. Mouth open in a momentary gasp, he looks up at me. Fuck, he's goddamn beautiful. "Fuck. Me," I say deliberately, pressing down against his fingers and rolling suggestively.

"Jesus Fuck," Sean moans withdrawing his fingers from me with a feeling that has me almost whimpering at the loss. He shifts, leaving me waiting for a moment, before I feel him finally press against me, something which has my pulse, breath, and overall system put on speed, chest hitching and lifting off the bed slightly. He presses in slowly, as if afraid I'll break and I remember why we take time to prep because that blunt object is not three fingers.

Fully inside, he pauses, waiting for me as I gasp for breath, hands gripped at his sides and feeling him shuddering with the effort to stay still. Licking my lips, I crack my eyes open and look at him, his own eyes on me as he breathes hot and heavy against my mouth. "Move."

Like a well trained dog, he does, drawing back slowly, dragging against me, before pushing steadily back in, setting up a slow constant rhythm that I really don't want right now. "Move," I hiss out again, rolling against him and gritting my teeth, trying to urge him to go faster.

"I am," Sean grinds back, his tone slightly annoyed but with the poorly veiled layer of concern beneath.

"Sean," I say, looking at him steadily and seriously as he slowly and almost gently continues to move within me. He looks back, face slightly strained with an effort I know is holding back and it all makes sense.

He's trying to protect me, take care of me. He's doing everything he can not to hurt me. It's why we haven't done more than jerk each other off for two weeks, why he always stopped, why he's so hesitant now.

The realization has me relaxing slightly, the tension leaving me slightly as I feel him pause, watching my face carefully. Gently, I lean up and kiss him, deep and slow and passionate, breaking to leave us both breathless. "I'm not going to break," I tell him, giving a light squeeze to his hips.

Sean lets out a breath I know he's been holding for a long time. He's impulsive, outgoing, and passionate but, in this situation, he's not. He does what he wants, letting emotion and desire get ahold of him upon entering my trailer and immediately attacking me, letting go for a fraction. But this isn't a fraction, this is much more serious.

Something we only did when drunk before.

Something he can't be impulsive about.

At my words, I can feel the restraint, the tension and grip in his body ease, slipping away as he resumes the slow pace he began, thrusting evenly into me and gradually picking up speed. Slowly, but apparent. I can feel him moving, angling slightly, searching for a spot he hit two weeks ago. A spot I still can't find on my own but which we both know is there.

I rock with him, meeting his thrusts and matching his pace, keeping us together in this one continuous motion of building lust. Our mouths meet, long and drawn out at first, exploring and deep, then breaking to breathe as he picks up slightly, eyes opening to half way, looking down at me. Neither of us speak.

And then he shifts, just a certain angle, and I'm off the bed, arching and mouth open in a silent scream as that sought for feeling blasts up my spine and exploding behind my eyes in a shower of sparks and blacking vision.

It's all the cue either of us need and all the slow build up, pace setting, careful preparation are forgotten, replaced by the white burning race of pleasure streaking through both of us as he forgets gentle and just moves, as I forget understanding and just writhe. We're a mess of limbs and movement, gasps and moans, the bed creaking as a pace which doesn't resemble anything builds and burns.

I'm gasping into his mouth, hands digging hard into his back, blunted nails digging nonexistent crescents into his skin as I hold on, try to find a platform to fall off of into the building cosmos of impending orgasm. "Oh fuck, god, Sean, fuck so good," I moan out, frame wracking from shots of pleasure and his thrusts which have me rocking hard back to meet him, sweat shining on both of us.

Sean pants above me, eyes barely open or focused, one hand gripping my hip and the other buried in my hair. "Fuck, Norman. You feel so good. So fucking good. God, you're beautiful baby." The words are gasped breathlessly, lips dragging over mine in speech before they trail along my jaw to nip at my neck frantically, pushing closer and closer to that release.

I'm close. I'm so fucking close and I can feel the coils in my stomach about to snap, about to burst as he loses his pace, instead frantically thrusting into me without reserve, wracking my body already so close to bliss. "Touch me," I breathe, unable to do so myself for fear of falling off the precipice I'm on, unable to let go of him. His sweat slicked skin providing my only support. "I'm so fuckin' close, Jesus please touch me. Fuck."

Biting gently against my shoulder, Sean moves the hand gripping my hip over my stomach, the exact direction I need it to go, moaning as he does so. "Fuck, Norman, I'm right there with you baby. I'm gonna cum. So close." The words have my fingers chenching harder against him, head thrown back as his fingers close around me, the oversensitive and almost painful skin forcing a small cry from my lips.

The next second I'm lost to that sea of white and black and LSD colors, slamming into my body at cataclysmic velocities as my whole body goes rigid, back arching hard off the bed and mouth open in a scream too powerful for my lungs to produce. Sean seizes at almost the same moment, driving hard into me and letting out a gruff yell, face buried in my shoulder, teeth sunk into the skin there. I'm spinning, imploding and exploding to the sensations burning through me, slamming me hard and removing me from reality, from the ground I thought I had a grip on Sean's back.

Coming back down consists of a slow return to lungs burning with gasping breathes, a mouth dry and loose, hands gripping hot skin and a body buzzing pleasantly with electricity. The warm gentle and solid weight of Sean over me has me swallowing, slowly flexing my fingers against his skin and closing my eyes. Sean's face is still buried in my shoulder, his hot breaths against my bare skin as I feel his body softly shivering in the aftermath of his own climax.

After a moment, he takes a sharp inhale of breathe, pausing before finally shifting, moving slightly off of me to look at me, hand uncurling from my now limp member and fingers gently beginning to brush back the hair by my face. A soft smile graces his face, slightly tired and clearly sated before he leans down and kisses me, deep and slow, carrying as much passion as the others but without quite the degree of desperation. It's more significant in a way, a kiss which has my eyes closing and hands moving from his back to his arms and hair.

When our mouths break, our eyes remain closed, simply sharing breaths and lips just touching. "That was fucking fantastic," Sean breathes against my, fingers gently dragging along the side of my face and through the short hair there. I hum in agreement, trailing fingers softly over his shoulder and biceps, our skin cooling slowly from the heated glow.

For a long time we don't move, simply lying there, tangled in limbs and unmade sheets, breathing contentedly and fingers softly brushing skin and hair. Eyes closed and gentle. Then he finally moves, groaning at he pulls himself from me, a moan of discomfort and loss emitting from my lips unbidden before he drops down beside me, dragging me into his arms and wrapping me completely, burying his face in my hair and inhaling deeply.

Face pressed against his chest, I finally let my eyes flutter open, heavy still with exhaustion and relaxation. "You know, if you came here for a shower and leave looking like you need one even more, people might get the wrong idea," I murmur against the skin of his chest, nose pressed against the blonde sparse hair.

I can feel and hear Sean's soft laugh as it travels up his chest. "I think they'd probably get exactly the right idea," he says, voice heavy with tired. "Which might be the problem." His grip around me shifts just slightly, his face nuzzling slightly more into my hair. "We should probably both get cleaned up then."

"Mmmm," I agree, not at all willing to get up. You tend to forget how exhausting sex is until you go through a mind blowing experience again. Then it hits you like the apocalypse. It'd be so much nicer if we could just lie here, wrapped in each other, and wake up tomorrow for filming without Sean having to sneak off to his trailer in the early morning hours.

With a disapproving groan, Sean finally pulls himself from me, pulling me up with a glower on my face. He slaps me good naturedly on the side of the face, stretching slightly. "You're the one who needs to get cleaned up," he says, eyes drifting to my stomach before returning to my face. "C'mon," he holds out a hand. "Shower time for Normy."

Trying not to look at the obvious mess on my abdomen, I accept Sean's hand as he hauls me to my feet and drags me to the bathroom, turning on the water for a shower and closing the door, pushing me under the spray before stepping in after me. I raise an eyebrow at him. So far, we've never showered together. He shrugs. "Water conservation," he says before dunking my head under the spray, grinning as I sputter under the water.

"Plus," he says, pressing close behind me and wrapping arms around my waist, letting the water fall over both of us. "You're dead sexy when you're wet." I smirk slightly as my eyes close, tilting my head to the teeth which gently capture an ear lobe.

"On one condition," I say, turning in his arms to face him and letting my hands rest on his hips. He quirks an eyebrow at me. "Call me 'baby' again and I'm never letting your near me."

Sean chuckles lightly, leaning in to lightly kiss the corners of my mouth, pulling me closer to him. Despite my earlier exhaustion, I can feel my body already beginning to heat up again, respond to him despite the recent exertion. "Empty threat but I'll do my best," he purrs against my lips before capturing them in a drawn out kiss.

Water conservation my ass.


-end-


A/N: Hoorah! This took way to long to get out. I have about five other stories all stewing at the moment which are all stuck, in need of rewrite, or just plain hating me at the moment. To top if off, I've been meaning to write something more for this series for a long time. Basically, here's how it's gonna work. The next few stories (approximately 6) are going to be PRE- It's Ethics and then things will all be POST- It's Ethics. It's confusing and shit but I wanted their relationship to be more than FUCK!, ANGST!, MEN!, pwp shit.

About the whole baby line, I'm sorry but I hate, hate, HATE, when people call partners and stuff baby. It makes me feel so gross for some reason, especially in slash parings. Skin crawly feeling I guess. I know it's a term of endearment but to me it feels so demoralizing. Thus, for those wondering, neither of them will refer to the other as baby. NO MATTER WHAT YOU ASK!
Next installment will be Sean POV and not sex..... I think.... we'll see. XD
I LOVE YOU AND PLEASE REVIEW!