RocknRolla Fic, Tell Me Now, How Do I Feel, Bob/One Two, NC-17
Title: Tell Me Now, How Do I Feel
Fandom/Characters: RocknRolla, Handsome Bob/One Two
Word Count: 1252
Disclaimer: I don't own. Guy Ritchie does, though. I wrote in this sadly non existent fandom just for fun.
Warnings: DUBIOUS CON OF A VERY DUBIOUS NATURE. Name calling with words I would never actually say to a person. Some cruelty. Angst. A beautiful, beautiful man in pain. Seriously, this isn't for everybody, and I get that.
A/N: I expect, oh, maybe two people to read this? This is written for filthgoblin who shares my lust for all things Tom Hardy and with whom I have been having heated, if I wore panties I'd need to change them type chats with over Tom, specifically Tom all broken like. I didn't get the gun porn in there, but the rest is. I hope you like it, darling, Arthur to my Eames ;)
Clip of RocknRolla and some movie spoilers under cut, before fic
Oh, and...if you've not seen RocknRolla (and why haven't you? It is fucking fabulous), you only need this clip to catch up (if you have a problem with embarrassment and the like, this probably isn't for you). Takes place after One Two (Butler) finds out Bob (Hardy) hasn't gone to jail, and right after a clip not shown, when Bob meets and sizes up Thandie Newton's gay husband, and One Two, he doesn't really like it. (Told you it was a good movie;) )
"New friend didn't want to come with you then?" One Two asks from across the dark flat.
"One Two? The fuck are you doing here, mate?" Bob turns on the light, tosses his keys and phone onto the cluttered counter.
"Taking it slowly? That what you poofs do?" One Two doesn't get up from the edge of the messed up bed. "I thought it was all 'How you doing, man, you queer too? Let's get to it then."
"The hell are you on about, One Two?" Bob is walking towards the bed, trying to grab the bottle of Stoli away from One Two.
"The hell am I on about? The hell am..." One Two grabs the bottle back from Bob, "The hell are you on about, that's what I'd like to know. I mean that's what I'd really like to fucking know, Bob."
"You're drunk, mate," Bob tries again to grab the bottle, touches his hand to One Two's shoulder, "let's get you home, right? We can talk about this in the morning."
"I'm not your mate, man. How can you call me that?" One Two is shrugging off Bob's hand, grabbing at it and twisting his fingers, "I'm not your anything."
"Don't say that. You're drunk and angry with me, I get it. I shouldn't have said anything..."
One Two shoves him, pushes Bob so hard he falls to the floor. "You're fucking right you shouldn't have said anything," he's looking down at Bob, angry at all the shit he can see in his face reflected back at him. "You think we're mates, Bob? You think we're fucking best mates? We are nothing, you and me, you fucking got that, right? You and your new fucking toy, Freddy the flamer, you be his mate, all right? You fucking tell him how you want to suck his dick, okay? Tell him how you roll around in your filthy bed right here," One Two picks up a handful of sheets, throws it at Bob, "and toss off to him every night."
One Two gets up, stumbles back on to the bed when Bob grabs around his legs. "I'm sorry," Bob tells him, crack in his voice, "don't go." He clambers to his knees, tangling in the sheets pooled near him on the floor. "Don't go," he says again, tentative head on One Two's knee.
One Two is tense against Bob, hands quick on his shoulders to push him away but Bob stops him, grabs a hand and puts it on the back of his skull as his head moves further down One Two's leg, as his own hands come up to rub up against and clutch higher at One Two's legs. "I'm not fucking Freddy," is what he says, "I don't roll around in my bed, tossing off to that guy," his head moves further down One Two's parted thighs, stopping just short of his crotch, One Two's hand still on the back of his head. He breaths out hard, swallows harder and looks up at One Two, "I don't want to suck his dick."
One Two closes his eyes, can't or won't look at Bob, not like this. He clutches at the short hair on the back of Bob's head, grunting when his face brushes up against his hard, traitorous dick. He shoves at Bob, shoves again when he doesn't move, pulls at his stupid, halfway opened shirt when he meets resistance, pulls him up from his knees and throws him face down on the bed.
He climbs up on the bed, knees on either side of Bob and hard, unmistakable length rubbing up against his back. "You want me to get it up for you? Get off on you? You want to feel like your dirty cocksucking lips got me hard and ready to go?"
Bob doesn't move under him, doesn't struggle or say let go, doesn't tell him to stop when he hears the tell tale clink of a belt buckle.
"Off," One Two says as he leans back to pull his own pants down to his knees, "I said take 'em off," he demands when Bob doesn't move.
"Take them off, I told you," he growls then, leaning forward and forcing his thumbs into Bob's mouth even as Bob finally unbuttons and unzips and undoes.
One Two thrusts his thumbs in and out of Bob's mouth, tells him to drool on them like it was his cock, tells him he's so good at it, that he must have had a lot of practice, that he must be some kind of cock whore. Bob is mostly silent still, a breathy moan and a wet pop when One Two pulls his fingers out of his mouth, a hiss when One Two rips his jeans down to bare his ass, a gasp when One Two lay his palms flat on each cheek and pulls.
"Well, look at that," One Two mocks. "Not so big, Bob. Thought you'd be all stretched out," his fingers press hot into Bob's skin, thumbs grazing at Bob's hole. "Looks like this might hurt, then."
His thumbs are pushing into Bob, covered in nothing but Bob's own spit, pushing harder at the caught breath, harder still as Bob pushes back, stopping only when he can go no further, when he finally forces a choked off cry.
"Is this what you wanted, Bob?" One Two asks, harsh voiced question punctuated by an even harsher, sharp thrust of his thumbs. "Is this what you wanted to do to me?"
He answers with a grunt, his fingers in a tight fist beside him.
"Not gonna answer me, Bob?" another brutal thrust of thumbs and another bitten off, quiet noise out of Bob. One Two twists his thumbs out, reaches for the bottle of girlie smelling lotion on the floor next to them and pours it out onto Bob's ass, smears it between his cheeks. A grab again at Bob's too short hair and an angry tug back on his ears brings him up on all fours, dull pressure pushing too fast inside of him.
"God, you're tight," One Two grits between his teeth, punishing rhythm already set. "Tight like no other man's been here," One Two says close to Bob's ear and Bob whimpers, a small cry at One Two's words, at the implication. "That's it then, is it? Handsome Bob does all pushing? That right?" One Two is thrusting deep, sliding in as far as he can before pulling quick back out and quicker back in, his own words coming out nothing but wrecked and ragged. "Is this what you wanted, Bob? Handsome poof Bob?" One Two asks again, fire ripping through his belly and blazing between his legs, cutting through the drunken fog like a flame thrower.
"I want you to come," Bob whines, thrusting back at One Two, working him from the bottom and covering One Two's hands with his own. He cries out at the moan he wrenches out of One Two, honest to god whimpers his reply, finally, a broken yes, a plead for One Two to fuck him harder, to come inside him and then One Two is shaking, biting his lip at Bob's name. Bob thrusts back one last time, pushes One Two back with his body until he's sitting on top of him, pulling furiously at his dick, grabbing One Two's hand to cover it as he pulses his release.
Fandom/Characters: RocknRolla, Handsome Bob/One Two
Word Count: 1252
Disclaimer: I don't own. Guy Ritchie does, though. I wrote in this sadly non existent fandom just for fun.
Warnings: DUBIOUS CON OF A VERY DUBIOUS NATURE. Name calling with words I would never actually say to a person. Some cruelty. Angst. A beautiful, beautiful man in pain. Seriously, this isn't for everybody, and I get that.
A/N: I expect, oh, maybe two people to read this? This is written for filthgoblin who shares my lust for all things Tom Hardy and with whom I have been having heated, if I wore panties I'd need to change them type chats with over Tom, specifically Tom all broken like. I didn't get the gun porn in there, but the rest is. I hope you like it, darling, Arthur to my Eames ;)
Clip of RocknRolla and some movie spoilers under cut, before fic
Oh, and...if you've not seen RocknRolla (and why haven't you? It is fucking fabulous), you only need this clip to catch up (if you have a problem with embarrassment and the like, this probably isn't for you). Takes place after One Two (Butler) finds out Bob (Hardy) hasn't gone to jail, and right after a clip not shown, when Bob meets and sizes up Thandie Newton's gay husband, and One Two, he doesn't really like it. (Told you it was a good movie;) )
Click to view"New friend didn't want to come with you then?" One Two asks from across the dark flat.
"One Two? The fuck are you doing here, mate?" Bob turns on the light, tosses his keys and phone onto the cluttered counter.
"Taking it slowly? That what you poofs do?" One Two doesn't get up from the edge of the messed up bed. "I thought it was all 'How you doing, man, you queer too? Let's get to it then."
"The hell are you on about, One Two?" Bob is walking towards the bed, trying to grab the bottle of Stoli away from One Two.
"The hell am I on about? The hell am..." One Two grabs the bottle back from Bob, "The hell are you on about, that's what I'd like to know. I mean that's what I'd really like to fucking know, Bob."
"You're drunk, mate," Bob tries again to grab the bottle, touches his hand to One Two's shoulder, "let's get you home, right? We can talk about this in the morning."
"I'm not your mate, man. How can you call me that?" One Two is shrugging off Bob's hand, grabbing at it and twisting his fingers, "I'm not your anything."
"Don't say that. You're drunk and angry with me, I get it. I shouldn't have said anything..."
One Two shoves him, pushes Bob so hard he falls to the floor. "You're fucking right you shouldn't have said anything," he's looking down at Bob, angry at all the shit he can see in his face reflected back at him. "You think we're mates, Bob? You think we're fucking best mates? We are nothing, you and me, you fucking got that, right? You and your new fucking toy, Freddy the flamer, you be his mate, all right? You fucking tell him how you want to suck his dick, okay? Tell him how you roll around in your filthy bed right here," One Two picks up a handful of sheets, throws it at Bob, "and toss off to him every night."
One Two gets up, stumbles back on to the bed when Bob grabs around his legs. "I'm sorry," Bob tells him, crack in his voice, "don't go." He clambers to his knees, tangling in the sheets pooled near him on the floor. "Don't go," he says again, tentative head on One Two's knee.
One Two is tense against Bob, hands quick on his shoulders to push him away but Bob stops him, grabs a hand and puts it on the back of his skull as his head moves further down One Two's leg, as his own hands come up to rub up against and clutch higher at One Two's legs. "I'm not fucking Freddy," is what he says, "I don't roll around in my bed, tossing off to that guy," his head moves further down One Two's parted thighs, stopping just short of his crotch, One Two's hand still on the back of his head. He breaths out hard, swallows harder and looks up at One Two, "I don't want to suck his dick."
One Two closes his eyes, can't or won't look at Bob, not like this. He clutches at the short hair on the back of Bob's head, grunting when his face brushes up against his hard, traitorous dick. He shoves at Bob, shoves again when he doesn't move, pulls at his stupid, halfway opened shirt when he meets resistance, pulls him up from his knees and throws him face down on the bed.
He climbs up on the bed, knees on either side of Bob and hard, unmistakable length rubbing up against his back. "You want me to get it up for you? Get off on you? You want to feel like your dirty cocksucking lips got me hard and ready to go?"
Bob doesn't move under him, doesn't struggle or say let go, doesn't tell him to stop when he hears the tell tale clink of a belt buckle.
"Off," One Two says as he leans back to pull his own pants down to his knees, "I said take 'em off," he demands when Bob doesn't move.
"Take them off, I told you," he growls then, leaning forward and forcing his thumbs into Bob's mouth even as Bob finally unbuttons and unzips and undoes.
One Two thrusts his thumbs in and out of Bob's mouth, tells him to drool on them like it was his cock, tells him he's so good at it, that he must have had a lot of practice, that he must be some kind of cock whore. Bob is mostly silent still, a breathy moan and a wet pop when One Two pulls his fingers out of his mouth, a hiss when One Two rips his jeans down to bare his ass, a gasp when One Two lay his palms flat on each cheek and pulls.
"Well, look at that," One Two mocks. "Not so big, Bob. Thought you'd be all stretched out," his fingers press hot into Bob's skin, thumbs grazing at Bob's hole. "Looks like this might hurt, then."
His thumbs are pushing into Bob, covered in nothing but Bob's own spit, pushing harder at the caught breath, harder still as Bob pushes back, stopping only when he can go no further, when he finally forces a choked off cry.
"Is this what you wanted, Bob?" One Two asks, harsh voiced question punctuated by an even harsher, sharp thrust of his thumbs. "Is this what you wanted to do to me?"
He answers with a grunt, his fingers in a tight fist beside him.
"Not gonna answer me, Bob?" another brutal thrust of thumbs and another bitten off, quiet noise out of Bob. One Two twists his thumbs out, reaches for the bottle of girlie smelling lotion on the floor next to them and pours it out onto Bob's ass, smears it between his cheeks. A grab again at Bob's too short hair and an angry tug back on his ears brings him up on all fours, dull pressure pushing too fast inside of him.
"God, you're tight," One Two grits between his teeth, punishing rhythm already set. "Tight like no other man's been here," One Two says close to Bob's ear and Bob whimpers, a small cry at One Two's words, at the implication. "That's it then, is it? Handsome Bob does all pushing? That right?" One Two is thrusting deep, sliding in as far as he can before pulling quick back out and quicker back in, his own words coming out nothing but wrecked and ragged. "Is this what you wanted, Bob? Handsome poof Bob?" One Two asks again, fire ripping through his belly and blazing between his legs, cutting through the drunken fog like a flame thrower.
"I want you to come," Bob whines, thrusting back at One Two, working him from the bottom and covering One Two's hands with his own. He cries out at the moan he wrenches out of One Two, honest to god whimpers his reply, finally, a broken yes, a plead for One Two to fuck him harder, to come inside him and then One Two is shaking, biting his lip at Bob's name. Bob thrusts back one last time, pushes One Two back with his body until he's sitting on top of him, pulling furiously at his dick, grabbing One Two's hand to cover it as he pulses his release.