LOVE ME TENDER
Title: “Love Me Tender”
Author: Gwenknight
Pairing: James McAvoy/Michael Fassbender
Rating: NC17
Warnings: RPS, M/M sexing, severe lack of knowledge of Scottish/Irish slang, unabashed fluff
Notes: This came out of an interview that James did, in which he claimed sex with Fassy four times but bemoaned the fact that he was not a tender lover…..no afterglow spooning, or smooching, leaving James to take care of himself. I couldn’t be quite that mean to James, but did what I could.
Disclaimer: No profit, no harm intended, and no knowledge at all that McFassy really exists, other than James proclaiming it everywhere he goes.
This is a much, much, much belated birthday prezzie for mrstotten , whom I love dearly and who shares the love of McFassy with me.
The door is barely closed when Michael slams James back against it. He dimly hears James’s head hit the door as Michael presses up against him and kisses him hungrily but, from the low moan he hears and the feel of James’s definitely interested cock pressing against his own, he supposes he’s okay. Still, he licks a silent apology into James’s mouth and then can’t help but groan himself when James returns the kiss with enthusiasm ….and lots of tongue….while walking them backwards towards the bed.
A long, long day of press for the film has landed them back at their hotel and Michael thinks he deserves a fucking award for making it this far before jumping James in front of God, the interviewers, and whomever the hell else happens to be around. Damn, cheeky, little shit with his endless sexual innuendoes. Sitting so fucking close to Michael in his stupid tight sweater rolled up over his stupid hot forearms. Constantly running his hands through that hair, turning his eyes….those goddammed blue, blue eyes….. innocently in Michael’s direction, smiling that porn star smile of his that holds a million filthy promises, and going on about bromances and shipper names, and the epic love of Charles and Erik. It had been all Michael could do to stammer out answers and try not to blush while James just leisurely crossed his legs, leaned in Michael’s direction just enough that his arm brushed Michael’s, and grinned that smug, insufferable grin he only ever uses when he has Michael over a barrel.
They’d done solo interviews at the end of the day and Michael had finished first, waiting in the wings for James to do his last one. He’d sat out of sight on a folding chair, idly smoking and listening to James effortlessly charm the interviewer, as always. It was when he heard James mention his name that his ears perked up and he began to pay closer attention. When James was finished, had shaken the interviewer’s hand and come around the corner to find Michael waiting, Michael calmly stubbed out his cigarette, smiled, walked with James to the car, and began to plot his revenge.
Which had brought them to this point, the part where they tumble, half-undressed, onto the bed in Michael’s hotel room. The one they share, not feeling a bit guilty about never using the two rooms booked by the studio for them at every stop on this lengthy press junket. They tug hurriedly at each other’s clothing between kisses until Michael is able to get the offending tight sweater off James and throws it to the far corner of the room. He plans to keep it so James can wear it only when they’re alone. The rest of their clothes sort of get the same treatment until, God, *finally*, he has James naked and laid out underneath him, eager and pushing up against Michael, impatient, horny boy that he is.
And, as much as Michael feels that same impatience, that same hunger, that same fuck-me-the-fuck-*now* feeling racing through him? He has other plans tonight. Mr. McAvoy is about to be schooled.
“Shh!” Michael catches James’s hands in his, presses his body against James to still his movements, and whispers in his ear. “Be still.”
Michael will never, ever admit how scorchingly hot it is that James instantly obeys. He does, however, file it away for future reference.
For now, he’s content to kiss James, long and deep and slow and lazy. Tangling his tongue with James’s, drinking up every sigh he makes. He lets go of James’s hands slowly, squeezing his wrists once, firmly, to make sure he’s made his point. Which he must have, because James just rests his hands at Michael’s waist, softly kneading the skin there, and moans as Michael runs his tongue along the smooth column of James’s throat. James has broken out in a thin sheen of sweat and Michael licks up the salty taste of him, bites at his collarbone just to feel him shiver. Loves it when James sucks in a breath and calls on Jesus Christ when Michael’s teeth close around his nipple. Michael takes his time, pressing open mouthed kisses along James’s chest, tracing his ribs with his tongue, licking the hollows of his hips. He bites a bruise onto James’s inner thigh and smiles against his skin when James curses fluently, probably consigning Michael to some dark corner of hell, although it’s hard for Michael to tell because James’s accent always thickens when he’s aroused. Still, he knows James doesn’t mean it, on account of the way he’s squeezing Michael with his legs and tugging at his hair, trying to move him to the particular part of his body that’s begging for attention.
In answer, Michael lays an arm across James’s hips to hold him down and wraps a hand around the base of his cock. And, then, waits. He tries not to laugh at James’s incredulous expression as he sputters and stammers.
“What the fuck, Fass? Are you going to suck me or no?”
Then he frowns that stubborn Scottish frown he has and Michael squeezes until James’s eyes sort of roll back in his head and he whines. Actually whines.
“All in good time, James. Now, you were being still, yes?”
“Yes, yes, fuck, yeah. Whatever you want. Just…”
Michael lets go of James’s cock and studiously ignores the sound that might be a sob while he reaches for the lube on the night stand. He’s back at his post quickly, though, fingers lubed and ready, and starts to slowly open James up. He takes his time, savoring the feel of James, tight and warm and pushing against his hand. Listens as his breath quickens. Watches as he shakes his head restlessly, damp hair falling over his eyes, his hands fisting the sheets. As he bites his lower lip and screws his eyes shut.
He’s so fucking gorgeous and all his, and Michael looks away and takes a deep breath and tries not to come right then and there. James is more than ready, though, and Michael settles between his legs as James opens up for him. Lines himself up and holds James’s thighs steady as he pushes into him as slowly as possible. Inch by excruciating inch, holding his breath and not allowing James to hurry the process. Makes it last and last and last until he’s seated deep inside James, surrounded by him, consumed by him.
James looks up at him, watches him with eyes that seem to see all the way inside him, uncovering every secret Michael ever had, laying him wide open and Michael doesn’t care. James can have this, he’s the only one Michael has ever let in this far, and he. doesn’t. care. No fears, no worries. He’ll give James anything. Everything. Whatever he wants.
Right now, James wants to be fucked. Michael leans in to kiss him, soft and easy, trembling when James breathes his name into the kiss. He leans up again and begins to move. He fucks him slow and deep, as slow as he can manage and as deep as he can get, his breath catching at the way that James arches into his thrusts, taking everything he has and giving it right back, his legs closing around Michael, warm and strong.
Michael wraps his hand around James’s cock, jacking him in long, smooth strokes, taking his time, savoring the way that James hangs on until he can’t any longer, until he’s sweating and shaking, his hands gripping Michael’s arms tight, until he’s moaning and whispering Michael’s name over and over and over again like a prayer. Until Michael pushes into him hard and deep and he breaks apart, come spilling thick and warm over Michael’s hand, his fingers digging into Michael’s arms, his pale skin flushed and slick with sweat.
Michael fucks him through it and James presses up into him, urging him on, “ harder, please God, fuck me, Michael, do it, so good baby….” until Michael feels James tighten around him and he presses deep, muscles trembling as he comes inside James, holds on, and tries to remember how to breathe.
Long minutes later, they lay side by side, breath coming back, sweat cooling on their skins, bodies loose and sated. James sighs and ‘hmmmms” and Michael knows the signs of a well-satisfied, sleepy James. He chooses that moment to reach out and slap him sharply on the ass.
“All right, then, off you go.”
James grabs his ass, jumps, yelps, and stares at Michael indignantly.
“What the fuck?”
Michael raises one eyebrow elegantly, a trick he’s learned watching Bond films. “We’re done here, yes?”
James turns from indignant to bumfuzzled quickly and Michael thinks there’s maybe nothing so adorable as a bumfuzzled James.
“Um. Finished?”
Michael gives a nonchalant shrug. “Yes. You came, I came, all God’s children came. It’s been a long day and I’m tired.”
He turns his back to James and makes like settling down to sleep. Fights not to laugh when James makes a strangled, sort of disbelieving noise.
“What, I’m supposed to go to the other room? Now?”
Michael gives another exaggerated sigh. “Sure. I mean, you’re not after wanting a “tender lover”, right? Or, else you wouldn’t be here with *me*, right?”
He holds his breath while silence reigns for a full minute before James speaks up eloquently.
“Oh. Fuck.”
Michael continues, because he’s on a roll. “I mean, you can’t actually expect me to “spoon” or “smooch”, can you? Being as I’m just not the tender type. Of course,……
That’s all he manages to get out before James pushes him onto his back, climbs unceremoniously on top of him, and kisses him senseless. For a long-ass time. Wet and sloppy and totally adorable.
“Bastard. You were listening. *And*, I was taking the piss out of the interviewer and you know it.”
Michael laughs. “You mean you love me even if I don’t spoon?”
Another kiss that makes Michael’s stomach do a funny flip. “You’re the best spooner ever and, yes, I love you.”
With that, he rolls off Michael and turns his back to him. Michael throws an arm over him and kisses the damp curls at the back of his neck.
“Night, sweetheart.”
*************
Finis
Author: Gwenknight
Pairing: James McAvoy/Michael Fassbender
Rating: NC17
Warnings: RPS, M/M sexing, severe lack of knowledge of Scottish/Irish slang, unabashed fluff
Notes: This came out of an interview that James did, in which he claimed sex with Fassy four times but bemoaned the fact that he was not a tender lover…..no afterglow spooning, or smooching, leaving James to take care of himself. I couldn’t be quite that mean to James, but did what I could.
Disclaimer: No profit, no harm intended, and no knowledge at all that McFassy really exists, other than James proclaiming it everywhere he goes.
This is a much, much, much belated birthday prezzie for mrstotten , whom I love dearly and who shares the love of McFassy with me.
The door is barely closed when Michael slams James back against it. He dimly hears James’s head hit the door as Michael presses up against him and kisses him hungrily but, from the low moan he hears and the feel of James’s definitely interested cock pressing against his own, he supposes he’s okay. Still, he licks a silent apology into James’s mouth and then can’t help but groan himself when James returns the kiss with enthusiasm ….and lots of tongue….while walking them backwards towards the bed.
A long, long day of press for the film has landed them back at their hotel and Michael thinks he deserves a fucking award for making it this far before jumping James in front of God, the interviewers, and whomever the hell else happens to be around. Damn, cheeky, little shit with his endless sexual innuendoes. Sitting so fucking close to Michael in his stupid tight sweater rolled up over his stupid hot forearms. Constantly running his hands through that hair, turning his eyes….those goddammed blue, blue eyes….. innocently in Michael’s direction, smiling that porn star smile of his that holds a million filthy promises, and going on about bromances and shipper names, and the epic love of Charles and Erik. It had been all Michael could do to stammer out answers and try not to blush while James just leisurely crossed his legs, leaned in Michael’s direction just enough that his arm brushed Michael’s, and grinned that smug, insufferable grin he only ever uses when he has Michael over a barrel.
They’d done solo interviews at the end of the day and Michael had finished first, waiting in the wings for James to do his last one. He’d sat out of sight on a folding chair, idly smoking and listening to James effortlessly charm the interviewer, as always. It was when he heard James mention his name that his ears perked up and he began to pay closer attention. When James was finished, had shaken the interviewer’s hand and come around the corner to find Michael waiting, Michael calmly stubbed out his cigarette, smiled, walked with James to the car, and began to plot his revenge.
Which had brought them to this point, the part where they tumble, half-undressed, onto the bed in Michael’s hotel room. The one they share, not feeling a bit guilty about never using the two rooms booked by the studio for them at every stop on this lengthy press junket. They tug hurriedly at each other’s clothing between kisses until Michael is able to get the offending tight sweater off James and throws it to the far corner of the room. He plans to keep it so James can wear it only when they’re alone. The rest of their clothes sort of get the same treatment until, God, *finally*, he has James naked and laid out underneath him, eager and pushing up against Michael, impatient, horny boy that he is.
And, as much as Michael feels that same impatience, that same hunger, that same fuck-me-the-fuck-*now* feeling racing through him? He has other plans tonight. Mr. McAvoy is about to be schooled.
“Shh!” Michael catches James’s hands in his, presses his body against James to still his movements, and whispers in his ear. “Be still.”
Michael will never, ever admit how scorchingly hot it is that James instantly obeys. He does, however, file it away for future reference.
For now, he’s content to kiss James, long and deep and slow and lazy. Tangling his tongue with James’s, drinking up every sigh he makes. He lets go of James’s hands slowly, squeezing his wrists once, firmly, to make sure he’s made his point. Which he must have, because James just rests his hands at Michael’s waist, softly kneading the skin there, and moans as Michael runs his tongue along the smooth column of James’s throat. James has broken out in a thin sheen of sweat and Michael licks up the salty taste of him, bites at his collarbone just to feel him shiver. Loves it when James sucks in a breath and calls on Jesus Christ when Michael’s teeth close around his nipple. Michael takes his time, pressing open mouthed kisses along James’s chest, tracing his ribs with his tongue, licking the hollows of his hips. He bites a bruise onto James’s inner thigh and smiles against his skin when James curses fluently, probably consigning Michael to some dark corner of hell, although it’s hard for Michael to tell because James’s accent always thickens when he’s aroused. Still, he knows James doesn’t mean it, on account of the way he’s squeezing Michael with his legs and tugging at his hair, trying to move him to the particular part of his body that’s begging for attention.
In answer, Michael lays an arm across James’s hips to hold him down and wraps a hand around the base of his cock. And, then, waits. He tries not to laugh at James’s incredulous expression as he sputters and stammers.
“What the fuck, Fass? Are you going to suck me or no?”
Then he frowns that stubborn Scottish frown he has and Michael squeezes until James’s eyes sort of roll back in his head and he whines. Actually whines.
“All in good time, James. Now, you were being still, yes?”
“Yes, yes, fuck, yeah. Whatever you want. Just…”
Michael lets go of James’s cock and studiously ignores the sound that might be a sob while he reaches for the lube on the night stand. He’s back at his post quickly, though, fingers lubed and ready, and starts to slowly open James up. He takes his time, savoring the feel of James, tight and warm and pushing against his hand. Listens as his breath quickens. Watches as he shakes his head restlessly, damp hair falling over his eyes, his hands fisting the sheets. As he bites his lower lip and screws his eyes shut.
He’s so fucking gorgeous and all his, and Michael looks away and takes a deep breath and tries not to come right then and there. James is more than ready, though, and Michael settles between his legs as James opens up for him. Lines himself up and holds James’s thighs steady as he pushes into him as slowly as possible. Inch by excruciating inch, holding his breath and not allowing James to hurry the process. Makes it last and last and last until he’s seated deep inside James, surrounded by him, consumed by him.
James looks up at him, watches him with eyes that seem to see all the way inside him, uncovering every secret Michael ever had, laying him wide open and Michael doesn’t care. James can have this, he’s the only one Michael has ever let in this far, and he. doesn’t. care. No fears, no worries. He’ll give James anything. Everything. Whatever he wants.
Right now, James wants to be fucked. Michael leans in to kiss him, soft and easy, trembling when James breathes his name into the kiss. He leans up again and begins to move. He fucks him slow and deep, as slow as he can manage and as deep as he can get, his breath catching at the way that James arches into his thrusts, taking everything he has and giving it right back, his legs closing around Michael, warm and strong.
Michael wraps his hand around James’s cock, jacking him in long, smooth strokes, taking his time, savoring the way that James hangs on until he can’t any longer, until he’s sweating and shaking, his hands gripping Michael’s arms tight, until he’s moaning and whispering Michael’s name over and over and over again like a prayer. Until Michael pushes into him hard and deep and he breaks apart, come spilling thick and warm over Michael’s hand, his fingers digging into Michael’s arms, his pale skin flushed and slick with sweat.
Michael fucks him through it and James presses up into him, urging him on, “ harder, please God, fuck me, Michael, do it, so good baby….” until Michael feels James tighten around him and he presses deep, muscles trembling as he comes inside James, holds on, and tries to remember how to breathe.
Long minutes later, they lay side by side, breath coming back, sweat cooling on their skins, bodies loose and sated. James sighs and ‘hmmmms” and Michael knows the signs of a well-satisfied, sleepy James. He chooses that moment to reach out and slap him sharply on the ass.
“All right, then, off you go.”
James grabs his ass, jumps, yelps, and stares at Michael indignantly.
“What the fuck?”
Michael raises one eyebrow elegantly, a trick he’s learned watching Bond films. “We’re done here, yes?”
James turns from indignant to bumfuzzled quickly and Michael thinks there’s maybe nothing so adorable as a bumfuzzled James.
“Um. Finished?”
Michael gives a nonchalant shrug. “Yes. You came, I came, all God’s children came. It’s been a long day and I’m tired.”
He turns his back to James and makes like settling down to sleep. Fights not to laugh when James makes a strangled, sort of disbelieving noise.
“What, I’m supposed to go to the other room? Now?”
Michael gives another exaggerated sigh. “Sure. I mean, you’re not after wanting a “tender lover”, right? Or, else you wouldn’t be here with *me*, right?”
He holds his breath while silence reigns for a full minute before James speaks up eloquently.
“Oh. Fuck.”
Michael continues, because he’s on a roll. “I mean, you can’t actually expect me to “spoon” or “smooch”, can you? Being as I’m just not the tender type. Of course,……
That’s all he manages to get out before James pushes him onto his back, climbs unceremoniously on top of him, and kisses him senseless. For a long-ass time. Wet and sloppy and totally adorable.
“Bastard. You were listening. *And*, I was taking the piss out of the interviewer and you know it.”
Michael laughs. “You mean you love me even if I don’t spoon?”
Another kiss that makes Michael’s stomach do a funny flip. “You’re the best spooner ever and, yes, I love you.”
With that, he rolls off Michael and turns his back to him. Michael throws an arm over him and kisses the damp curls at the back of his neck.
“Night, sweetheart.”
*************
Finis