Colin turns and meets eyes the color of purest steel as nimble fingers pluck his cigarette from his hand. "Goin' on a year now, yeah." He doesn't question why Gerry just can't say 'hello, can I borrow a fag' like a normal person. Fucking Scots for ya, always having to make an entrance. "Pity that." Gerard makes shrugging a sexual act, the finely-cut fabric of his jacket hugging his shoulders and arms like a lover as he puts the cigarette between his lips. On him, it looks like an advertisement for oral sex. "I was lookin' forward to buying ye a drink to congratulate ye on yer big win." Which is about as blatant an invitation as Colin's ever had, and he's had plenty of them over the years. "Well, don't need alcohol for celebrations, now, do we?" "Suppose not, though it's always more fun." "Not always." Colin's lips quirk in a smile when Gerard just gives him a disbelieving smirk. "C'mon, let me show ya." He flicks at Gerard's tie and cants his head towards the door. Two can play at this game, and not for nothing does Colin have the reputation he does. "Is this going to involve debauchery?" Gerard asks, voice low and rough as he exhales. Colin wonders if he'll sound like that after sex. "Because I'm only interested in lechery and vice." "Play yer cards right, and it could involve all three." "I'm great at cards," Gerard grins, and it's the sort of panty-wetting grin that Colin's very familiar with, as he has the exact same one. Oddly enough, it totally works on him, too. An hour later (it's never an easy thing extracting oneself from the watchful eyes of one's agent, especially when you happen to be holding a shiny statue), when they're both finally back at Colin's suite, lounging against the railing of the balcony and watching the pool party twelve stories below, Gerard gives Colin another one of those come-fuck-me-grins. Somewhere along the way, Gerard's lost his jacket and tie, which is a right shame, as Colin had been looking forward to peeling him out of it. "Johnny Depp or Leonardo DiCaprio or Brad Pitt?" Colin raises an eyebrow at Gerard. Gerard returns the favor. "Johnny, definitely," they say in unison. "Although I'd fuck Robert Downey Jr. over Johnny any day. That man's in fine damn form these days despite doing more drugs than me and Mickey Rourke combined," Colin adds, with a lusty sigh. "Tag team?" Gerard suggests. His eyes twinkle with dark promises. "I like the way you think," Colin says thoughtfully. "I could be in the middle of that." "And can we keep that Jake Gyllenhaal as our boytoy?" This might be the most enjoyable foreplay Colin's ever indulged in. "Excellent plan, that. Cheers." Colin taps their fists together. "Cheers, mate." Their eyes meet and hold once again. Colin finds it hard to catch his breath at the way Gerard's just looking at him like he's a particularly tasty morsel, but he's always been good with challenges. And if his voice is slightly husky when he speaks, well, he figures it only adds to his appeal. "Now, seriously, were ye actually planning on buggerin' me blind, or was this just a wind up?" Gerard lets out a low chuckle that ripples through Colin like a caress. "Do I look daft to ye? 'Course I was planning on the buggerin'. But yer Irish. You lot like all that wooing." Scots logic. It's a wonder they ever get laid, even when they do look as good as Gerry. "That's only when we're trying to woo women." "Ah, well, in that case, get naked, get on the bed. Been thinking about that arse of yours for the better part of the night." Gerard delivers the last with a light-hearted smack at Colin's ass that takes him from semi-hard to fuck-me-now in .5 seconds. He yanks off his tie and jacket, then starts on the buttons of his vest, surprised he remembers motor skills. "Good, since I've been thinkin' about yer cock in it for about as long." The next moment, their lips meet in a messy tangled kiss. Then another. And another after that. They don't quite make it to the bed the first time. For that matter, they can't even be arsed to get completely naked. During the second round, they finally make it inside the room proper, and have lost the clothes, except for one of Colin's socks, which is pretty stubborn about staying on his foot, and he's not really in a position to remove it. By the third go 'round, they're both pretty much in love with the carpet, and have decided to hell with it, beds are overrated. If Colin wakes up with rug burn on his knees that matches the stubble burn between his thighs, he figures the pain's well worth the reward. Onto Bound
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