"Yeah, fine," Karl lied. "I'm needed back on set in a bit anyway." "Don't." Harry sighed, and Karl could imagine him pinching the bridge of his nose, glasses off, floppy hat pushed back off his forehead. "I want to see you, alright, but we're in pre-production and I can't just --" "I said, it's alright." "You do understand, yeah?" "Course I do," Karl replied, forcing the laugh. "I'm an actor. I get the film business." "Call me later?" "Yeah." "Love you." "You too." Karl hung up and hurled the phone across the room. It hit with a satisfying thud on the opposite wall, making a dent in wretched brown and tan wallpaper. A definite improvement. Karl was bombarded as soon as he walked out of his trailer -- changes in some lines and blocking, tomorrow's shooting schedule, did he want anything from the local coffee joint -- and he fought back the scream. Pasted his best, patented grin and threw himself into work. Tried to ignore the hammering in his head. * * * "Some guy popped by to see you," Karl's aide -- Brian something, Karl was horrible with last names -- said as he trotted after Karl on their way back to the hotel. "Yeah?" Karl wasn't really interested. Just wanted a long shower and a large bottle of something strong. Maybe some food. He wouldn't turn down a massage. "Said he was a friend. Big fella. Dark skin, dark hair, accent." Awareness prickled along the back of Karl's neck. No. Couldn't be. "He give a name?" "No, sorry," Brian replied, somewhat breathlessly. "He just said he'd catch you later." "Alright. Thanks for the info." "Oh, my pleasure, Mr. Urban." Karl simply nodded as he let himself into his room. And promptly stopped. Lawrence. Big frame sprawled comfortably on his sofa like he fucking lived there. "How the hell did you get in?" Karl asked. He crossed the small living room to the kitchenette, took a bottle of water from the mini-fridge. The cold was a balm to his heated nerves. "And hello to you, too," Lawrence replied, standing and following Karl. He leaned against the doorjamb, smile easy and open, taking up entirely too much fucking space. "Aren't you going to give me a proper welcome?" "No." Lawrence caught Karl's arm when Karl made a move to walk past him. "C'mon, mate. That's not a very nice greeting." Karl shook off Lawrence's hand, and glared into smirking, toffee-colored eyes. "I didn't fucking invite you, and if you think you're staying, think again." "You gonna kick me out, is that it?" "If I have to." Lawrence laughed, raised his hands in a gesture of surrender. "Bit touchy, aren't you? I just flew across the world to visit my good friend and this is the welcome I get. No manners these days." "We were never good friends," Karl said, stepping into the living room. Not enough oxygen, and fuck Lawrence for taking it all. Fuck him for a lot of things. At least he was here... "No, we weren't." Lawrence sat back on the sofa, all trace of arrogance gone from his features. "I miss you." "No, you don't." Karl's gaze was level. Keep it cerebral, keep the anger. The worn denim of Lawrence's jeans stretched when he straightened his legs, and Karl's eyes darted, drawn to the play of muscle. He hated himself for looking. He flew all this way just for you... "I'm not talking about this," Karl said, raking a hand through his hair. "And you need to leave." "You can't tell me that Harry gives you what I can. Has he ever made you scream, made you beg, forced you to your knees, choked you --?" "Shut the fuck up, Lawrence." Each word was a hammerstrike in Karl's head. Dark memories, tumbling end over end -- Lawrence, thick and full inside him, bruising, sleek kisses, large hands framing his hips, lips that sought and exploited without mercy. "Struck a nerve?" The smirk was back on Lawrence's face. "What Harry and I have is none of your business." Lawrence stood, loomed over Karl, dark eyes boring, seeking. "You don't belong to him." He stepped closer, chest brushing Karl's, and Karl bit back the moan welling in his throat. "I don't belong to you, either," he said, and willed himself to believe the words. "That's where you're wrong." Lawrence cupped Karl's chin, the touch delicate. "I could have you on your knees right now, sucking me dry, and we both know you'd love every minute of it." The next words were out before he could call them back. "Or I could have you on yours." Lawrence didn't give Karl a chance to apologize, to back away. He pressed close, bent his head until Karl could feel Lawrence's breath, moist against his lips. "Is that what it would take?" Lawrence was on his knees a second later, pulling his t-shirt over his head. He knelt before Karl, chest and back bare, head bowed -- the perfect picture of submission. "Don't think. Just do it." Karl threaded his fingers through the silky fall of Lawrence's hair, stared down at the muscled, dark body, at the arousal straining Lawrence's jeans. Felt the dark pull, the shimmer, heavy throb between them. He knew what he should do, could see it so clearly in his mind's eye. Pull Lawrence up, tell him no, shove him out the door, call Harry back... yeah. Call Harry. He started unbuttoning his jeans with steady, sure fingers. Lawrence wasted no time taking the hint. Full lips made a tight suction around Karl's cock, took him deep, curled his tongue around, over, and it took all Karl had not to make a sound. He wasn't surrendering that easily. Not this time. "That's it," he murmured, fisting Lawrence's hair tightly. "Suck my cock like the good whore you are." He thrust his hips forward, had the dark satisfaction of hearing Lawrence's choked moan. "Too much?" Didn't wait for an answer, didn't care. He wasn't interested in Lawrence's feelings or concerns. Fucker thought he could waltz in here and have Karl right where he wanted him...well, fuck that. Fuck everyone who didn't get it, didn't get him. Starting with Lawrence. His hips snapped forward again, cock hitting the back of Lawrence's throat. Here was satisfaction, here was control. Karl yanked on Lawrence's hair, started fucking his mouth, barely giving Lawrence a chance to breathe or move. Another choked moan -- lovely sound, almost as lovely as the wet heat surrounding him. "You look pretty with my cock in your mouth," Karl rasped, voice thick with need. "But it's not what I want." He pulled back, and Lawrence made a small noise of protest. Karl simply tightened his hold in Lawrence's hair, forced dark eyes to meet his. "Hands and knees." Lawrence's eyes widened again. "Karl, I don't --" "I don't care what you don't. You started this. Hands and knees." For a second, Karl was positive Lawrence was going to say no, to get up and leave. He wasn't sure if he was more relieved or disappointed when Lawrence finally nodded and dropped to all fours, back arching gracefully as he offered himself, every single dark, unfulfilled fantasy come to life. A path straight to hell paved in mocha skin glistening in the fading light from the open curtains. Karl dropped to his knees behind Lawrence. He reached around for Lawrence's zipper, jerking his jeans down in one swift motion. A truly superb ass awaited Karl's touch, muscled and curved, with skin like crushed velvet, and he spent a minute running his hands along Lawrence's lower back, refamiliarizing himself with the heat, noting the contrast of his own lightly tanned skin next to the dark, rich color of Lawrence's. Unbelievably erotic in its immorality. This wasn't anything like Har...no. No. Karl wasn't going to think beyond this, beyond finally having Lawrence like this, supplicating, meek, black hair falling in a curtain around his face, limbs trembling with the effort of holding still. Karl stuck two fingers in his mouth, laving them with saliva -- didn't want to walk to the bathroom for the lotion. If he left this space, he'd start to think, might change his mind. Karl didn't want to change his mind. He just wanted to do this, get it over with. He slid his slicked-up fingers deep inside Lawrence, ignored the muffled yelp of pain, and grabbed Lawrence's hip with his free hand to hold him in place. "Relax...take it," he murmured, fingers twisting and curling until he found the small bundle of nerves. Lawrence's yelp turned into a broken moan of need and Karl pressed down, scissored his fingers, widening the tight passage. "There you go," he said, making another deliberate sweep over Lawrence's prostate. Smiled when Lawrence moaned again, started to move back under Karl's fingers. "You really are a whore, aren't you?" Karl asked, his smile dark, dangerous. He replaced his fingers with the head of his cock, sitcky-slick with spit, shoved forward, slid into tight muscle, unbelievable heat. Lawrence whimpered again, pushed back as Karl pushed forward. Karl looked down at their joined bodies when he slid forward, seating himself completely inside Lawrence's ass, watching the slow movement of his cock as he rocked back and forth. "Karl, ple--" "No." He didn't want to hear it, didn't want to know. He drove himself deep inside Lawrence to silence further words. The only sounds that filled the room were Karl's harsh breathing, Lawrence's choked moans and the dull sounds of flesh slapping on flesh as they moved together. Karl gripped Lawrence's hips tightly, as he rode him deep and hard. Felt fucking incredible -- the give and play of muscles clamping down around him, the heat decimating all rumination, all shame. He rotated his hips, slammed forward. One more thrust -- two, three, and "Fuck yes" – he fractured apart, blood pounding in his veins. Karl stared down at his trembling hands, felt the slam of reality as soon as he let go of Lawrence's hips. Ohfuckohfuckohfuck... "Karl?" Karl looked up, startled to see genuine concern in Lawrence's eyes. "I, um--" He stopped, unable to form another word, dropped his eyes back to his hands and cock, still glistening with come. Fuck. He closed his eyes, unable to look, tried to keep the room from spinning. When he opened them again, he was alone. Karl looked around, but he didn't see a trace of Lawrence anywhere. He thought maybe he might've dreamed the whole thing except for the heavy satisfaction in his body and the ripping pain in his chest. He spent far too much time in the shower, scrubbing and rinsing, scrubbing and rinsing. Maybe, if he did it often enough, he'd start to feel regret. He gave up after about twenty minutes. He dialed the familiar number once he'd dried himself off, waited patiently through the clicks and rings. The voice on the other end sounded very far away. "Hello?" "Hey, Harry." "Hey." Karl heard the shuffling of papers and the tinny musical notes that meant Harry was shutting off his computer. "I was hoping you'd call." "Were you?" "Yeah...um...about earlier..." Karl squeezed his eyes shut. "It's alright." "No, it's not. I'm sorry." "Yeah, me too," Karl whispered. "For everything." "Look, I'll take a few days," Harry said. "Fly out. See you." "You don't have to…" "I want to. You're important, Karl. More important than some damn film." Karl let his head fall back against the headboard. "So're you," he breathed. "Miss you so much." "You alright?" "No. Not really." "Wanna talk about it?" "Not really." "Alright," Harry replied softly, and Karl clutched the phone tighter. Wanted to crawl through the phone line into familiar, welcoming arms. "Tell me about your day. Please?" "Alright." Karl concentrated on the soothing sounds of Harry's voice until it finally blocked out the sounds of whimpers and moans. Until it blocked out the sound of Lawrence's voice assuring him that he could run, but he could never hide.
|