A THOUSAND TINY PIECES
TITLE: A Thousand Tiny Pieces
AUTHOR: gwenknight
PAIRING: James McAvoy/Michael Fassbender
RATING: NC-17
WARNINGS: Male/male smexing; unadulterated schmoop
SUMMARY: James is wound too tight. Michael comes to the rescue. Control is transferred. Stress is relieved. Futures are wrapped up.
DISCLAIMER: No profit, no harm intended, just good clean fun.
A/N: This is a birthday fic for my darling Miri, hope you had a fantastic one!! Betad byj2sammich, my partner in crime; Also, LJ is being a bitch, so I hope the formatting comes out okay.
Michael watches as James stalks off the set after loudly and uncharacteristically telling the second assistant director, in no uncertain terms, to sod off. He sips his coffee thoughtfully, stepping aside as James strides past him without a glance, barking orders into his phone to have a car ready, as he’s done for the day. The poor AD is left looking more puzzled than pissed off. Understandable, too, because James is rarely less than courteous to everyone on set, from producers to craft services.
Michael has seen this coming for days. Seen it coming and should have headed it off. In fact, he’s actually surprised it’s taken this long for James to erupt. They’ve been filming X-Men for months and, though it’s an ensemble cast, the bulk of the work has fallen to Michael and James as the leads. During the weeks of pre-production, they’d worked hard to make the younger cast members feel at home on set, helped mold them into a close knit group who learned to support each other through long, arduous days of filming when tensions could and did run high at times. The two of them shouldered the bulk of the scenes themselves, as well as the publicity appearances, and now, with filming nearing its end, they would handle most of the post-production press junket as well.
Michael has taken most of it in stride. He’s just naturally a laid-back kind of guy and sort of takes each day as it comes. James, however, is another story. For all his easy charm and reckless flirtation, James keeps a large part of himself locked away from the rest of the world. He’s intense and a right perfectionist. He frets and worries and is more than a little bit insecure underneath that seemingly effortless smile he gives the public. That insecurity, which Michael knows was forged at a very young age when James was abandoned by the very people who were supposed to care for him above anything or anyone, compels him to push himself past his limits in order to be everything for everyone, no matter the cost to himself. It’s that very trait that makes him the success that he is. It’s also, Michael knows, what drives him past his breaking point at times like this.
Another reason Michael has been at ease is because he’s had James. Literally had him, in the most biblical sense of the word. Almost from the moment they met, they’d recognized kindred spirits in each other and a magical working relationship had led to friendly fucking about, which had then led to a rather strong codependency that neither one of them had expected, but both of them welcomed. Currently, they both studiously seem to be ignoring the fact that this film is in its last weeks and there are decisions to be made soon.
For the moment, though, he knows James well enough to know exactly what he needs. Michael can fix this.
A short word with the director gets Michael the rest of the day off and shooting is rearranged to focus on the younger cast members. He quickly changes into jeans, t-shirt and a jacket to ward against the cold December wind, calls a car and is on his way to the hotel.
He quietly lets himself into James’s hotel suite with his key card and finds him sitting on the bed, his back against the headboard, legs stretched out in front of him. He’s wearing black pajama pants and one of Michael’s t-shirts, which sort of makes Michael’s breath catch. Leaning against the bedroom doorjamb, Michael takes a minute just to watch him.
James has his eyes closed and is smoking, sending smoke rings towards the ceiling in a lazy trail. He’s the very picture of relaxation. Except to someone who really knows him. Michael happens to be one of those people and what he sees is a James in distress, stretched to his limits and hanging on by a thread.
He can see the tension in James’s shoulders, in the lines of his body. Can see the faint, purplish shadows beneath his eyes, the fine tremor in his hand as he stubs the cigarette out in the ash tray on the bedside table and looks up to see Michael.
“I’m sorry.” His voice is rough with smoke and fatigue and with the weight of trying so damn hard to be everything he thinks he needs to be.
Michael slowly pushes off the doorjamb, crosses the room and nudges James’s legs over so he can sit beside him.
“What for?”
He reaches out to brush a stray lock of James’s hair away from his eyes. “You’re not Superman, you know.”
James shrugs, avoiding Michael’s gaze. “I’m not trying to be. It’s just…..there’s so bloody much……”
“And it’s not all yours to handle, James.”
With that, James frowns and looks up, eyebrows drawn together, ready to argue. “But…..”
Michael stops him, shaking his head and leaning in closer, his lips inches from James’s. “Shhhhh.”
He kisses James quiet. Wraps him up and rearranges him until he’s spread beneath Michael. Kisses him slowly and thoroughly until James is pressing against him, restless and impatient.
Michael breaks away, shushes him again and pretends to ignore the little frustrated moan James gives. He captures James’s hands in his and places them on the pillow next to his head.
“Do you trust me?”
“What?” James stills. “Of course I do.”
Michael can feel James’s pulse beating rapidly beneath the skin of his wrists as he looks up at Michael with his ridiculous blue eyes and Michael takes a deep breath and silently counts to ten, hoping like hell he’ll be able to keep his own body in check long enough to take care of James. Under Michael’s steady gaze, James squirms a little.
“Be still.” Michael tightens his grip on James’s wrists just enough to make his point. “Do you *trust* me?”
James settles immediately and answers without the slightest hesitation. “Yes.”
“Good.” He gives him a quick kiss for reassurance. “Don’t move. Not a muscle. Do exactly as I tell you, nothing more and nothing less. Understand?”
James frowns and starts to speak, but Michael places a hand firmly over his mouth.
“No questions, James. “ He leans closer, whispers into James’s ear. “You know I’d never hurt you. Trust.”
James nods his assent and Michael stands to undress, quickly and efficiently, his gaze never leaving James’s face. He climbs onto the bed and reaches for the hem of James’s t-shirt. He pointedly ignores the little thrill than runs through him when James raises his arms for the shirt to come off and then obediently places his hands back in position without comment. Michael finishes undressing him, throwing his clothes haphazardly to the floor, and settles between James’s legs.
He kisses him, slowly and deliberately, taking his time. Nips at James’s lower lip, maps James’s mouth with his tongue like he’s moving in and laying claim, swallowing the soft, contented sigh James makes.
His hands find James’s, coaxing until James opens his fist and Michael threads their fingers together as he mouths at the smooth skin of James’s neck, licks at the hollow of his throat, bites at his collarbone, lazy exploration like he’s got forever and he’s rewarded when James tilts his head to give Michael better access. He allows it because James doesn’t move otherwise, even though Michael rests his hand lightly over James’s heart and feels it beating double time, hears James’s breath becoming fast and shallow.
He lets go of James’s other hand and slides down to close his teeth lightly around James’s nipple. Smiles when he feels James fighting the urge to arch up against Michael’s mouth. James is successful, but makes up for it by muttering colorful slurs against Michael’s ancestry.
Which doesn’t deter Michael a bit from marking a slow, torturous path down James’s body with his hands, his tongue, his teeth. He bathes James’s nipples in wet kisses, teeth tugging at them just past the point of pain before soothing them with his tongue. He licks a stripe down the center of James’s chest, savoring the taste of him, painting his pale skin with whispers that alternate between declarations of love and filthy descriptions of his intentions to fuck James into next week and then some.
He mouths at the hollows of James’s hips, his hands smoothing their way down his sides. He purposefully steers clear of James’s cock, which is hard against his belly and leaking profusely and James is cursing again. When Michael places a soft kiss on the inside of James’s thigh, he can feel him trembling, can hear the soft, broken sounds he’s making and knows he himself won’t be able to last much longer.
He kneels up and reaches to the nightstand, his eyes remaining trained on James’s face. He drops the foil condom packet on James’s stomach, coats his fingers, and begins to prepare him slowly, with more care than is strictly necessary. James is clenching and unclenching his fists, his chest is rising and falling rapidly as he struggles to control his breathing. His pale skin is flushed and dark curls, wet with sweat, stick to his forehead. His eyes are bright with want and need and Michael has never seen anything more beautiful.
“Michael….please, God…..hurry…..I need……”
Michael closes his eyes for a minute to gain control himself. Draws his fingers back and smooths on the condom with shaking hands. Leans in and whispers against James’s mouth.
“No talking, remember?” Gives him a kiss filled with intention. “Easy, baby, I’ve got you. Hold on for me.”
He enters him slowly, holding his breath, and pushes in inch by inch until he’s balls deep and James is hot and tight around him. Holds steady for a long minute until he feels James trembling beneath him. Then, he starts to fuck him, slow and easy, with deliberate, measured strokes, as deep as he can get with every thrust, over and over and over. James is keening now, his body slick with sweat. Their low moans and desperate whispers break the silence of the room.
Finally, Michael wraps long fingers around James’s cock, causing him to gasp and arch up but James immediately gets back into position.
“Sorry, sorry……”
It’s almost Michael’s undoing and he starts jerking James off in earnest, just the way he knows James likes, and it’s only a matter of minutes before James is spilling hot over his hand, whispering Michael’s name like a prayer, while Michael strokes him through it. James’s body is flushed and shaking and he’s watching Michael with such naked want and need in those blue, blue eyes and Michael is gone, thrusting into him hard and fast and deep until he comes harder than he ever remembers coming, until all he’s aware of are James’s arms around him, James’s voice in his ear, James’s hands smoothing up and down his back, bringing him down.
They lay sprawled across the bed, hands by their sides, fingers barely touching. Night is coming on and the room is bathed in shadows, the silence broken only by their breathing as they begin to relax. Michael turns to look at James, who looks tousled and sleepy and well-fucked. He’s gorgeous and brilliant and has the biggest heart in the world and Michael is hit with the realization that he loves this man with everything he has.
James reaches for Michael’s hand and his voice is so quiet Michael almost misses it. “Stay with me.”
Smiling, Michael hums his agreement. “Mmmm, yeah. We’ll eat and then we’ll sleep and then we’ll…..”
‘No.” James squeezes Michael’s hand until he has his full attention. “I love you. *Stay* with me.”
Michael doesn’t hesitate, just gathers James up and kisses him until they are forced to come up for air.
“You only ever had to ask.”
finis
AUTHOR: gwenknight
PAIRING: James McAvoy/Michael Fassbender
RATING: NC-17
WARNINGS: Male/male smexing; unadulterated schmoop
SUMMARY: James is wound too tight. Michael comes to the rescue. Control is transferred. Stress is relieved. Futures are wrapped up.
DISCLAIMER: No profit, no harm intended, just good clean fun.
A/N: This is a birthday fic for my darling Miri, hope you had a fantastic one!! Betad byj2sammich, my partner in crime; Also, LJ is being a bitch, so I hope the formatting comes out okay.
Michael watches as James stalks off the set after loudly and uncharacteristically telling the second assistant director, in no uncertain terms, to sod off. He sips his coffee thoughtfully, stepping aside as James strides past him without a glance, barking orders into his phone to have a car ready, as he’s done for the day. The poor AD is left looking more puzzled than pissed off. Understandable, too, because James is rarely less than courteous to everyone on set, from producers to craft services.
Michael has seen this coming for days. Seen it coming and should have headed it off. In fact, he’s actually surprised it’s taken this long for James to erupt. They’ve been filming X-Men for months and, though it’s an ensemble cast, the bulk of the work has fallen to Michael and James as the leads. During the weeks of pre-production, they’d worked hard to make the younger cast members feel at home on set, helped mold them into a close knit group who learned to support each other through long, arduous days of filming when tensions could and did run high at times. The two of them shouldered the bulk of the scenes themselves, as well as the publicity appearances, and now, with filming nearing its end, they would handle most of the post-production press junket as well.
Michael has taken most of it in stride. He’s just naturally a laid-back kind of guy and sort of takes each day as it comes. James, however, is another story. For all his easy charm and reckless flirtation, James keeps a large part of himself locked away from the rest of the world. He’s intense and a right perfectionist. He frets and worries and is more than a little bit insecure underneath that seemingly effortless smile he gives the public. That insecurity, which Michael knows was forged at a very young age when James was abandoned by the very people who were supposed to care for him above anything or anyone, compels him to push himself past his limits in order to be everything for everyone, no matter the cost to himself. It’s that very trait that makes him the success that he is. It’s also, Michael knows, what drives him past his breaking point at times like this.
Another reason Michael has been at ease is because he’s had James. Literally had him, in the most biblical sense of the word. Almost from the moment they met, they’d recognized kindred spirits in each other and a magical working relationship had led to friendly fucking about, which had then led to a rather strong codependency that neither one of them had expected, but both of them welcomed. Currently, they both studiously seem to be ignoring the fact that this film is in its last weeks and there are decisions to be made soon.
For the moment, though, he knows James well enough to know exactly what he needs. Michael can fix this.
A short word with the director gets Michael the rest of the day off and shooting is rearranged to focus on the younger cast members. He quickly changes into jeans, t-shirt and a jacket to ward against the cold December wind, calls a car and is on his way to the hotel.
He quietly lets himself into James’s hotel suite with his key card and finds him sitting on the bed, his back against the headboard, legs stretched out in front of him. He’s wearing black pajama pants and one of Michael’s t-shirts, which sort of makes Michael’s breath catch. Leaning against the bedroom doorjamb, Michael takes a minute just to watch him.
James has his eyes closed and is smoking, sending smoke rings towards the ceiling in a lazy trail. He’s the very picture of relaxation. Except to someone who really knows him. Michael happens to be one of those people and what he sees is a James in distress, stretched to his limits and hanging on by a thread.
He can see the tension in James’s shoulders, in the lines of his body. Can see the faint, purplish shadows beneath his eyes, the fine tremor in his hand as he stubs the cigarette out in the ash tray on the bedside table and looks up to see Michael.
“I’m sorry.” His voice is rough with smoke and fatigue and with the weight of trying so damn hard to be everything he thinks he needs to be.
Michael slowly pushes off the doorjamb, crosses the room and nudges James’s legs over so he can sit beside him.
“What for?”
He reaches out to brush a stray lock of James’s hair away from his eyes. “You’re not Superman, you know.”
James shrugs, avoiding Michael’s gaze. “I’m not trying to be. It’s just…..there’s so bloody much……”
“And it’s not all yours to handle, James.”
With that, James frowns and looks up, eyebrows drawn together, ready to argue. “But…..”
Michael stops him, shaking his head and leaning in closer, his lips inches from James’s. “Shhhhh.”
He kisses James quiet. Wraps him up and rearranges him until he’s spread beneath Michael. Kisses him slowly and thoroughly until James is pressing against him, restless and impatient.
Michael breaks away, shushes him again and pretends to ignore the little frustrated moan James gives. He captures James’s hands in his and places them on the pillow next to his head.
“Do you trust me?”
“What?” James stills. “Of course I do.”
Michael can feel James’s pulse beating rapidly beneath the skin of his wrists as he looks up at Michael with his ridiculous blue eyes and Michael takes a deep breath and silently counts to ten, hoping like hell he’ll be able to keep his own body in check long enough to take care of James. Under Michael’s steady gaze, James squirms a little.
“Be still.” Michael tightens his grip on James’s wrists just enough to make his point. “Do you *trust* me?”
James settles immediately and answers without the slightest hesitation. “Yes.”
“Good.” He gives him a quick kiss for reassurance. “Don’t move. Not a muscle. Do exactly as I tell you, nothing more and nothing less. Understand?”
James frowns and starts to speak, but Michael places a hand firmly over his mouth.
“No questions, James. “ He leans closer, whispers into James’s ear. “You know I’d never hurt you. Trust.”
James nods his assent and Michael stands to undress, quickly and efficiently, his gaze never leaving James’s face. He climbs onto the bed and reaches for the hem of James’s t-shirt. He pointedly ignores the little thrill than runs through him when James raises his arms for the shirt to come off and then obediently places his hands back in position without comment. Michael finishes undressing him, throwing his clothes haphazardly to the floor, and settles between James’s legs.
He kisses him, slowly and deliberately, taking his time. Nips at James’s lower lip, maps James’s mouth with his tongue like he’s moving in and laying claim, swallowing the soft, contented sigh James makes.
His hands find James’s, coaxing until James opens his fist and Michael threads their fingers together as he mouths at the smooth skin of James’s neck, licks at the hollow of his throat, bites at his collarbone, lazy exploration like he’s got forever and he’s rewarded when James tilts his head to give Michael better access. He allows it because James doesn’t move otherwise, even though Michael rests his hand lightly over James’s heart and feels it beating double time, hears James’s breath becoming fast and shallow.
He lets go of James’s other hand and slides down to close his teeth lightly around James’s nipple. Smiles when he feels James fighting the urge to arch up against Michael’s mouth. James is successful, but makes up for it by muttering colorful slurs against Michael’s ancestry.
Which doesn’t deter Michael a bit from marking a slow, torturous path down James’s body with his hands, his tongue, his teeth. He bathes James’s nipples in wet kisses, teeth tugging at them just past the point of pain before soothing them with his tongue. He licks a stripe down the center of James’s chest, savoring the taste of him, painting his pale skin with whispers that alternate between declarations of love and filthy descriptions of his intentions to fuck James into next week and then some.
He mouths at the hollows of James’s hips, his hands smoothing their way down his sides. He purposefully steers clear of James’s cock, which is hard against his belly and leaking profusely and James is cursing again. When Michael places a soft kiss on the inside of James’s thigh, he can feel him trembling, can hear the soft, broken sounds he’s making and knows he himself won’t be able to last much longer.
He kneels up and reaches to the nightstand, his eyes remaining trained on James’s face. He drops the foil condom packet on James’s stomach, coats his fingers, and begins to prepare him slowly, with more care than is strictly necessary. James is clenching and unclenching his fists, his chest is rising and falling rapidly as he struggles to control his breathing. His pale skin is flushed and dark curls, wet with sweat, stick to his forehead. His eyes are bright with want and need and Michael has never seen anything more beautiful.
“Michael….please, God…..hurry…..I need……”
Michael closes his eyes for a minute to gain control himself. Draws his fingers back and smooths on the condom with shaking hands. Leans in and whispers against James’s mouth.
“No talking, remember?” Gives him a kiss filled with intention. “Easy, baby, I’ve got you. Hold on for me.”
He enters him slowly, holding his breath, and pushes in inch by inch until he’s balls deep and James is hot and tight around him. Holds steady for a long minute until he feels James trembling beneath him. Then, he starts to fuck him, slow and easy, with deliberate, measured strokes, as deep as he can get with every thrust, over and over and over. James is keening now, his body slick with sweat. Their low moans and desperate whispers break the silence of the room.
Finally, Michael wraps long fingers around James’s cock, causing him to gasp and arch up but James immediately gets back into position.
“Sorry, sorry……”
It’s almost Michael’s undoing and he starts jerking James off in earnest, just the way he knows James likes, and it’s only a matter of minutes before James is spilling hot over his hand, whispering Michael’s name like a prayer, while Michael strokes him through it. James’s body is flushed and shaking and he’s watching Michael with such naked want and need in those blue, blue eyes and Michael is gone, thrusting into him hard and fast and deep until he comes harder than he ever remembers coming, until all he’s aware of are James’s arms around him, James’s voice in his ear, James’s hands smoothing up and down his back, bringing him down.
They lay sprawled across the bed, hands by their sides, fingers barely touching. Night is coming on and the room is bathed in shadows, the silence broken only by their breathing as they begin to relax. Michael turns to look at James, who looks tousled and sleepy and well-fucked. He’s gorgeous and brilliant and has the biggest heart in the world and Michael is hit with the realization that he loves this man with everything he has.
James reaches for Michael’s hand and his voice is so quiet Michael almost misses it. “Stay with me.”
Smiling, Michael hums his agreement. “Mmmm, yeah. We’ll eat and then we’ll sleep and then we’ll…..”
‘No.” James squeezes Michael’s hand until he has his full attention. “I love you. *Stay* with me.”
Michael doesn’t hesitate, just gathers James up and kisses him until they are forced to come up for air.
“You only ever had to ask.”
finis