MMOM Day 26-"Hero Envy" RPS Jude Law/Robert Downey Jr. Wordcount-1000
Title: Hero Envy
Fandom: RPS
Pairing: Jude Law/Robert Downey Jr.
Rating: R
Wordcount: 1000
WARNINGS: RPS-Real people. Read at the your own risk.
Notes: Written for MMOM 2012, Day 26. Unbeta'd. Posted late. Comments, concrit and Brit-checking welcome.
Summary: Jealousy and memories of Hong Kong.
Jude never thought he would hate the internet so much. Or his Iphone. Or Hollywood. Or his former “BFF,” Robert Downey, Jr. Rob had warned him it would happen.
“You do know the minute we start publicity for Avengers, it’ll be like Holmes never happened? Fangirls have very short attention spans.”
Jude had brushed it off. He’d be thrilled to be off the PR merry-go-round and get back to being considered a serious actor, rather than just an object of speculation for giggling nitwits. Yes, he was grateful to Guy and Rob. Being Watson and the attendant flurries of media coverage for the two movies had finally managed to take him from an Academy Awards punch line to a genuine international celebrity. Of course, in the UK, he was still paparazzi bait, mostly for being the idiot who’d gotten caught shagging the nanny.
Guy and Rob had tried to explain what the fans would expect; what Rob and Jude could do to build up interest in a certain segment of population. Jude thought he had this one in the bag. He’d been in Wilde right there with Stephen Fry. He was a British actor, for fuck’s sake; camp was his birthright. He’d be happy to talk to the Advocate, go on Ellen, make sure the gay community knew that there was a deep connection between Holmes and Watson, wink wink nudge nudge.
The smirk on Rob’s face told him it was going to be a bit more than that. He’d asked him if he knew what “slash” was, and then he pointed him to some choice links on the internet. Thus began Jude’s education in the ways of fangirls.
It was fun, at first. Just another role, right? The British actor with a man-crush on his American co-star. Flirting on Graham Norton. Practically cooing about Robert on Wossy. By the time they got to Jay Leno, they were sitting in each other’s laps and tweeting nearly round the clock. It was even more intense when the second movie came out. Maybe it was the way the script itself had gone beyond subtext to nearly spelling it out, or the fact that things had been a little tense with Sienna back home or maybe it was just that Robert Downey Jr. was just that goddamned sexy.
Seeing every bloody interview with Rob and Mark, or Rob and Chris or even Rob and Tom…Tom of all people, made him feel so…stupid, so empty, so….jealous. All that in spite of the fact that no matter how well he played the game, Jude really was straight, and nothing had ever happened. Well nothing that anyone would call anything. So why did it bother him so much? Why did he seethe at the clips of Rob talking about Chris Evans’ physique, or the way Rob looked at Mark on the red carpet? He half wanted to call up Mark and tell him to keep his Hulk-sized paws off Robert. Then he wanted to get so drunk he could forget ever feeling this way.
The better part of a good bottle of scotch later, Jude was very drunk, but no less jealous. He was also exceedingly horny.
He’d avoided wanking while thinking of Rob; that would be too close to making it real. As real as what had happened in Hong Kong, which of course hadn’t really happened. Not when he was that drunk and knackered from jet-lag. He didn’t even know what time it was, but every paper in Asia and Middle East would have reporters in the lobby at 10AM. If he was going to play his part in the Jude and Robert Show, he needed a few hours of sleep and it wouldn’t come.
It was always nice of these five-star hotels to provide scented cream as part of their amenity package. The Mandarin Oriental’s version was especially luxuriant. Soft in his hands, smooth and silky as it coated his prick. He didn’t have a particularly fantasy in mind, just a few idle images of Sadie, Sienna, random woman. His cock was hard, his hand was moving, but it wasn’t enough. He bit down hard on his upper lip and suddenly he was thinking about Robert, about their scene on the train, lying on top of each other…all good fun, just acting, Guy with his big goofy smirk. It meant nothing at the time, now suddenly it meant too much.
He must have moaned a bit too loudly or called out Robert’s name. Or maybe Robert was thinking of him the same way. Either way, there he was. In Jude’s bedroom, and then in Jude’s bed. Rob’s unique scent, his deep rumbling groan in Jude’s ear, followed by a few encouraging obscenities. Within seconds Jude had a clear of Robert fucking him and everything fell into place. He gripped himself harder, stroked fasted, and soon had a perfect storm of arousal building in his balls.
“Come on, babe. For me,” Robert growled and soon the scented cream was mixed with Jude’s own stickiness. Jude let his head fall back in exhausted satisfaction as Robert slipped out of his bed, tossing a “Sleep tight,” over his shoulder as he left.
Somehow it was the affection of the “Sleep tight,” in his memory that got him going now, as he replayed the scene in his head, and elsewhere. Good thing he’d hung to that hand cream. It still came in handy. Robert hadn’t actually touched and they’d never mentioned it. Jude wasn’t a hundred percent sure it had even happened. It almost didn’t matter. It mattered that he had that memory. That he was coming now, again, still thinking of Rob, and if it had happened then he was that far ahead of Mark, Tom, and two Chrisses. Suck on that Hiddleston, he thought, cleaning up maybe a bit too roughly.
Maybe he should make that call to Mark after all. Remind him that fangirls have short attention spans, and so does Robert Downey Jr.
Fandom: RPS
Pairing: Jude Law/Robert Downey Jr.
Rating: R
Wordcount: 1000
WARNINGS: RPS-Real people. Read at the your own risk.
Notes: Written for MMOM 2012, Day 26. Unbeta'd. Posted late. Comments, concrit and Brit-checking welcome.
Summary: Jealousy and memories of Hong Kong.
Jude never thought he would hate the internet so much. Or his Iphone. Or Hollywood. Or his former “BFF,” Robert Downey, Jr. Rob had warned him it would happen.
“You do know the minute we start publicity for Avengers, it’ll be like Holmes never happened? Fangirls have very short attention spans.”
Jude had brushed it off. He’d be thrilled to be off the PR merry-go-round and get back to being considered a serious actor, rather than just an object of speculation for giggling nitwits. Yes, he was grateful to Guy and Rob. Being Watson and the attendant flurries of media coverage for the two movies had finally managed to take him from an Academy Awards punch line to a genuine international celebrity. Of course, in the UK, he was still paparazzi bait, mostly for being the idiot who’d gotten caught shagging the nanny.
Guy and Rob had tried to explain what the fans would expect; what Rob and Jude could do to build up interest in a certain segment of population. Jude thought he had this one in the bag. He’d been in Wilde right there with Stephen Fry. He was a British actor, for fuck’s sake; camp was his birthright. He’d be happy to talk to the Advocate, go on Ellen, make sure the gay community knew that there was a deep connection between Holmes and Watson, wink wink nudge nudge.
The smirk on Rob’s face told him it was going to be a bit more than that. He’d asked him if he knew what “slash” was, and then he pointed him to some choice links on the internet. Thus began Jude’s education in the ways of fangirls.
It was fun, at first. Just another role, right? The British actor with a man-crush on his American co-star. Flirting on Graham Norton. Practically cooing about Robert on Wossy. By the time they got to Jay Leno, they were sitting in each other’s laps and tweeting nearly round the clock. It was even more intense when the second movie came out. Maybe it was the way the script itself had gone beyond subtext to nearly spelling it out, or the fact that things had been a little tense with Sienna back home or maybe it was just that Robert Downey Jr. was just that goddamned sexy.
Seeing every bloody interview with Rob and Mark, or Rob and Chris or even Rob and Tom…Tom of all people, made him feel so…stupid, so empty, so….jealous. All that in spite of the fact that no matter how well he played the game, Jude really was straight, and nothing had ever happened. Well nothing that anyone would call anything. So why did it bother him so much? Why did he seethe at the clips of Rob talking about Chris Evans’ physique, or the way Rob looked at Mark on the red carpet? He half wanted to call up Mark and tell him to keep his Hulk-sized paws off Robert. Then he wanted to get so drunk he could forget ever feeling this way.
The better part of a good bottle of scotch later, Jude was very drunk, but no less jealous. He was also exceedingly horny.
He’d avoided wanking while thinking of Rob; that would be too close to making it real. As real as what had happened in Hong Kong, which of course hadn’t really happened. Not when he was that drunk and knackered from jet-lag. He didn’t even know what time it was, but every paper in Asia and Middle East would have reporters in the lobby at 10AM. If he was going to play his part in the Jude and Robert Show, he needed a few hours of sleep and it wouldn’t come.
It was always nice of these five-star hotels to provide scented cream as part of their amenity package. The Mandarin Oriental’s version was especially luxuriant. Soft in his hands, smooth and silky as it coated his prick. He didn’t have a particularly fantasy in mind, just a few idle images of Sadie, Sienna, random woman. His cock was hard, his hand was moving, but it wasn’t enough. He bit down hard on his upper lip and suddenly he was thinking about Robert, about their scene on the train, lying on top of each other…all good fun, just acting, Guy with his big goofy smirk. It meant nothing at the time, now suddenly it meant too much.
He must have moaned a bit too loudly or called out Robert’s name. Or maybe Robert was thinking of him the same way. Either way, there he was. In Jude’s bedroom, and then in Jude’s bed. Rob’s unique scent, his deep rumbling groan in Jude’s ear, followed by a few encouraging obscenities. Within seconds Jude had a clear of Robert fucking him and everything fell into place. He gripped himself harder, stroked fasted, and soon had a perfect storm of arousal building in his balls.
“Come on, babe. For me,” Robert growled and soon the scented cream was mixed with Jude’s own stickiness. Jude let his head fall back in exhausted satisfaction as Robert slipped out of his bed, tossing a “Sleep tight,” over his shoulder as he left.
Somehow it was the affection of the “Sleep tight,” in his memory that got him going now, as he replayed the scene in his head, and elsewhere. Good thing he’d hung to that hand cream. It still came in handy. Robert hadn’t actually touched and they’d never mentioned it. Jude wasn’t a hundred percent sure it had even happened. It almost didn’t matter. It mattered that he had that memory. That he was coming now, again, still thinking of Rob, and if it had happened then he was that far ahead of Mark, Tom, and two Chrisses. Suck on that Hiddleston, he thought, cleaning up maybe a bit too roughly.
Maybe he should make that call to Mark after all. Remind him that fangirls have short attention spans, and so does Robert Downey Jr.