(no subject)
Title: Boy
Pairing: Michael Fassbender/James McAvoy
Rating: NC-17
Warning: Explicit sex, age play/role play, spanking, PWP
Summary: It's not like James has done this before, [at least not in front of a camera and a room full of people,] but he needs the money and it seemed like a good idea at the time. But the guy he's just been introduced to is looking at him like he's dinner and he's starting to think he's in a little over his head.
Note: This is the first time I've written anything McFassy, but I've been lurking for a while. I saw the AU prompt fest and knew I should start writing. This is for prompt number 45 and I hope it's what she/he was looking for. I'm a little nervous for you guys to read it. Please excuse any errors, by the way. I've read it a few times and then my eyes began to cross. Enjoy.
Laid off from work, bills weeks passed due, James desperately needs a job. However, The Fates are once again cruel and he’s denied the position of managing the corner candy store. That’s the fifth interview he’s bombed and his confidence is breaking.
He loosens the light pink slick tie around his neck with a quick jerk and immediately regrets it when the tense, tight muscles in his shoulders feel the pull. “Damn, the luck,” he hisses as he stomps to the bus bench. Small pale hands run through thick dark locks, making him look more disheveled than he already feels.
It is twenty minutes before the next bus runs by and he decides to read the flyers left on the lamp post beside him. He has no interest in the local music scene since it’s filled with doe-eyed dreamers with bad voices and sub-par musical talent, so his eyes quickly dart away from those. There are ads for selling gold, cars, and unused cell phones and if he had any of those, he would take the bait. Then, as if the Universe was apologizing, he spots a flyer for a low budget film looking for ‘youthful looking men over the age of 18’.
James is well into his twenties, but he doesn’t look it. His face is soft, with nearly cherubic cheeks, a round chin and large blue eyes. He doesn’t find himself incredibly attractive, but he thinks he’s decent enough, especially when he finds himself with a nice catch when he’s out at the bars. Nevertheless, he’s been told he looks rather boyish and because of his smaller stature, he’s carded wherever he goes. He doesn’t find it flattering now, but he imagines in another decade or so it will be an ego booster.
With a few acting experiences in high school and some through college, he thinks of giving it a shot. He snatches the flyer from the pole and pulls out his mobile. With slightly shaking hands, more from annoyance of his day than nerves, James dials the number given and waits impatiently with his foot bouncing lightly off the concrete in his knock off designer dress shoes.
“Bacon Productions, this is January, how may I help you today,” comes of the voice from the other end. The lady sounds more irritated than helpful, but James pushes passed it and answers her.
“Uh, hi. Yes. I just saw your advert while waiting for the bus,” he gushes, cringing at his honesty, but continues, “I know the auditions for your -- ah-- movie are today, but is there any way I could squeeze myself in at some point? I-I don’t have any, oh damn, what are they called? Pictures or -- or headshots, there we go, or anything like that…” He trails off awkwardly, his freckled nose wrinkling with slight discomfort.
There’s a pause on the other end and James’s foot begins to bounce faster. He sees the bus rounding the corner and curses mentally. “That’s fine,” January finally replies, “we’ll take some here. Your name?”
“James McAvoy.”
“Mr. McAvoy, we’ll see you in an hour.” She quickly gives him the address before promptly hanging up.
James looks at his watch as the bus pulls to the curb and quickly does a layout of the city and the time he has to get where he needs to be. His apartment is on the way and if traffic’s good enough, he can stop by and change out of his suit into something more appropriate. The doors open with an exhausted sigh, the bus sounding much like how he’s feeling. He shoves the paper into his pocket and climbs aboard. He pays the fare before plopping in the first seat available.
He idly wonders why he set himself up for a movie role when his talents lie somewhere else, but if by some miracle he gets the part, it just means easy money for easy working. Besides, it would give himself time between failing interviews.
The bus stops in front of his flat and James hops off quickly, taking the stairs two a time before he stumbles into his crappy apartment. It’s a bachelor pad if there ever was one, but he doesn’t have time to think of cleaning up last night’s pizza and beer bottles. He runs into his bedroom and nearly rips off his suit - the only good one he has - and plucks through the pile of what he assumes are clean clothes.
He settles for a pair of faded jeans and a light blue dress shirt which he leaves open with the sleeves rolled up and he slips on a pair of boots. After quick trip to the bathroom to relieve himself and mess his hair to make himself appear more ‘boyish’, James sets back out with the flyer in hand and catches the bus for downtown just before it pulls away.
According to his watch, he has another thirty minutes to get to where he needs to go. Traffic midday can be bad and for the most part, today it is. The bus pulls and pushes with little complaint from its passengers. James checks his watch again and finds that it has only been ten minutes and they’re still a few blocks away from where he needs to be. When he finally feels the bus isn’t moving fast enough, he tugs on the string and gets off at the next time, hoofing it.
The office for Bacon Productions is in the middle of the business district, hidden in a maze of small offices of tiny companies trying to make due. Suite F3 is where he finds himself and a simple sign is glued on the door to tell him he’s in the right place. Timidly, he knocks and waits, not for very long, when a tall blond cup of sex answer the door with her seductive smile and pretty blue eyes. “You must be Mr. McAvoy,” she states rather than asking, her tone not matching her expression. She still seems to be annoyed, but James doesn’t mind if he can stare at her long pale legs that fall from her white mini skirt. January seems to know what’s going on in his head and lets out a laugh before she steps aside to let him in.
James stumbles forward, catches himself and clears his throat as he absently straightens his shirt. “Yes. Yes, I am,” he finally answers, standing just a few feet away from a desk, presumably January’s. He takes a quick look around the office, there only two doors that leads from where he’s standing. One door reads ‘Kevin Bacon, Producer’, the other door is bare.
January catches him staring at the naked door and she motions for him to go to it. “We’ll take your pictures next to it while Mr. Bacon finishes up with his current audition.” She moves gracefully to her desk, pulls out a digital camera and moves to stand in front of him. “Smile,” she says almost mockingly before she snaps a picture that James wasn’t ready for. “Dreadful. Stand up straight and be ready.”
He stands up as he’s told, clutching the hem of his open shirt shyly as he attempts a smile for her. The flash goes off and she looks down into the tiny screen, her face nearly glowing at what she sees. “A few more. Act natural.” James stands there, feeling a little self-conscious, but gives her half smiles and does his best to try and avoid her gaze. “Great. Have a seat.”
With a heavy sigh, he takes a spot near the blank door and watches it warily. The thought of turning tail and running crosses his mind, but he reminds himself that nothing venture means nothing gained, so he shifts in his seat and frowns.
The only sounds in the room are of his watch, slowly ticking away and reminding him of how impatient he is, and the other is of January, clicking away at her small laptop, ignoring him. James decides that it isn’t polite to stare, even if the woman is beautiful and finds the pattern of the carpet interesting, if not dizzying.
Tick, tick, tick, he mimics in his mind, counting the seconds before the door opens. A young man steps out, one not much younger than himself, and shakes who James can only assume is ‘Kevin Bacon, Producer’s’ hand. They exchange quiet words before the man. Boy. Man-boy exits the office.
“You’re next,” Kevin announces as January hops from her desk to bring her boss the camera. James stands to join them as the older man clicks through the photos, snorting as the slide by before heading into the unlabeled room. “On the stool,” he instructs and James takes the instruction well, flopping onto it. “Have you done any acting, kid?” Kid. The title causes James to quirk a brow and that’s when Kevin finally locks eyes with him. “Well?”
“Oh. Some in high school, a bit in college,” he answers. He hoists one foot to catch on a rung of the stool. The heel of his boot snags it and he leans forward on his grounded leg, one hand on his knee, the other rubbing nervously on his stretched leg. “Never in a movie or anything like that.”
Kevin’s silent for a moment, watching James as if he’s judging every inch of him, every movement, and he is. “Are you gay?”
The question takes James by surprise and he chokes a little. “I’m sorry. What?”
“Are you gay,” Kevin repeats, his tone slightly impatient. “Have you slept with other men before? Are you gay?”
“Well, I’ve taken a few blokes home before-I’m sorry,” he pauses, giving an empty apology, “but what does this have to do with anything?”
“Ever tried your hand at age play,” Kevin presses on. “Pretend you’re older, younger, during sex?”
James stares at the two openly, a look of pure confusion upon his face. “I think I’m in the wrong place,” he starts to say, getting up from his seat. “I’m sorry to waste-”
“The job pays a grand and a half for a day,” Kevin mentions, eyes still trained on him, “it won’t go longer than two days, maybe not even one if everything goes smoothly. If you’re good, there are other roles you’d be good at.”
Fifteen hundred for the day, that could pay the rent and his bills; double that could fill up his savings until he finds a real job. There’s a not so uncomfortable silence in the room as January and Kevin allow him to think over the offer. “What exactly is this movie about?”
“It’s an age play porn. You’ll be the young school boy handled by your headmaster. Ever been to prep school,” Kevin asks, laughing. The lines around his eyes are tinkling and the lines around them are deep, his face seems too mirthful to be in the porn industry. He could be a mall Santa if his hair turned white.
“When I was younger in Scotland,” James responds idly, the idea of being in porn making him slightly dizzy. “And you expect me to have sex in front of a camera with a total stranger?”
Kevin laughs again, this time joined by January. “That’s the idea. Though, you can meet him if you want. Michael enjoys breaking in fresh ones.” They stand up from the desk and walk around to him. The older man slaps a hand onto James’s shoulder before he pulls him into one armed hug as he leads him out of the room. “You’ve got potential, kid. Your naïve, innocent look can get you into a lot of gigs. Just stick with me, alright?” They stop at January’s desk and Kevin scribbles down an address in writing that is neater than most before he hands to it James. “Be there tomorrow at eight. Eat a good breakfast; you’ll need your stamina.” He barks another laugh before he releases James and shoves him gently towards the door.
The rest of James’s afternoon is a blur. He finds himself at his favorite diner, eating a burger he doesn’t remember ordering. It is hard for him to come to terms with the fact that he agreed to be in a skin flick. He has indulged himself in many a movie, some even homosexual, but to be in one was something else entirely.
He moves around the rest of the evening, his mind still in the clouds, before he goes to bed after another night of drinking alone. The alarm wakes him out a quarter after seven and he sleepily beats it into silence. The morning turns out to be like the past evening and James goes about showering, dressing and eating a jellied crumpet with his black coffee. It wasn’t as good as Kevin expected it to be, but James doesn’t mind.
The address he was given was on the outskirts of the city in a well-to-do neighborhood. The cab pulls in front of a large home with a well-manicured lawn and wrought iron fence to block out the public. James pays the driver and steps the gate, peering in before he presses the intercom. A deep voice rings from the other end, asking who he was and what his business was. After a quick exchange and a wait for verification, James is buzzed in and the gate slowly opens.
He makes his way up the driveway to the elaborate double oak doors and gives one knock before they open. January greets him once again, this time in flattering top and tight jeans. “On time again,” she notes, “a very good impression.” She gives him a genuine smile this time and leads him inside.
The foyer is large; a den leads off to the left, a living area leads off to the right and in front of him is a grand stair case. The floors are marbled and the walls are a matching oak to the doors. “Who owns this place?”
“Mr. Vaughn’s grandfather,” she replies, her heels clacking against the floor as they move passed the staircase and down the hall. James hears voices and banging in the room they’re approaching, but she veers to the left instead and opens the door to what was once a bedroom, he assumes, but the furniture is replaced by mobile clothes racks and two vanities.
The racks are filled with jackets, slacks and ties. “Those were my school colors,” he admits softly, walking to the nearest jacket to examine it. It’s a navy blazer embroider with gold, on the breast a crest of a small lion roaring up at him makes James laugh to himself. He puts the coat back and turns to January, still feeling a little frazzled.
“Don’t worry about it, hunny,” she tries to soothe him. “Porn’s as easy as it looks. Just do what Mr. Vaughn says and follow Michael’s lead, everything will be fine.” She takes her leave as the stylists walk in and begin to transform boyish future businessman James into a schoolboy.
The khaki slacks are tight on him, cupping the areas that pornographic movies focus on, much to James’s discomfort. The dress shirt and blazer are fitted, clinging close to his tiny frame as they could get it without making him look like the Hulk. “I feel stupid,” he complains, looking into the mirror as they play with his hair and brush him over with makeup. “I look stupid.”
He wears the sour look out of the dressing area and into the actual movie set, to use the term loosely. It was a large study with a heavy oak desk near a row of bay windows. Shelves lined the room, shoved carefully with books and James wonders idly if they have been read at all. It takes him a moment, but he soon remembers that this is similar to his old headmaster’s office and he starts to feel uncomfortable.
Matthew Vaughn strides up to James, all business but with a smile and shakes his hand. “I knew Kevin would find me the right guy. Matthew Vaughn, I’ll be your director.” He holds James by the shoulders and takes a step back as if he was admiring a masterpiece. A delighted noise climbs out of Matthew’s throat and he almost throws his arms up giddily, but checks himself and simply lets James go. “You’re perfect, just as I’d imagine. Now, there is no written dialogue, so just go with what you feel is best. Michael will guide you along,” he’s told for the third time, “so just follow his lead and we’ll make magic.”
“I still haven’t met this… Michael,” James pipes up, looking around as the production crew busy themselves with lighting and angles.
“Oh,” Matthew blinks and spins around to find a large man speaking with January and Kevin. He excuses himself to grab him and bring him over. “This is Michael Fassbender,” he introduces, “Michael, this is…”
“James,” he squeaks, eyeing the taller man before he clears his throat, “McAvoy. James McAvoy.”
“James,” the man repeats, holding out a large hand, “a pleasure to meet you. I’m looking forward to working with you.” A smile comes, one so wide that James swears he can see Michael’s molars. The man towers over James and the rest of his body is proportional to that. The tight fitting slacks that he is also forced to wear leaves little to the imagination of what James is in store for and his backside is already sore from the thought.
It's not like James has done this before, at least not in front of a camera and a room full of people, but he needs the money and it seemed like a good idea at the time. But the guy he's just been introduced to is looking at him like he's dinner and he's starting to think he's in a little over his head.
By the time he realizes that their hands were still locked, Michael moves away and back to Kevin. “L-looking forward to it, too,” James says numbly, aware the moment he says it that no one is around him. The set is buzzing and he can barely hear Matthew shouting out orders over the sound of blood in his ears.
He soon finds himself sitting in a chair in front of the desk, Michael sitting behind it with his smile still there, now with an air of smugness. James is staring at Michael as Matthew explains their scene and what he wants, but it falls on deaf ears. He can tell that Michael is lost in his eyes, just as he is with Michael’s, both in their own world until the word ACTION is yelled.
The smile on Michael’s face is gone in a flash and is replaced with a look of utter disappointment. James’s heart breaks at the look and he slouches in his seat a bit, slowly sinking into the role. “Do you know why you’re here, Mr. McAvoy,” Michael’s Irish brogue oozes as he sits back in the large leather chair, his hands templed in front of him and one long leg crossed over the other.
“I-I,” James stutters, suddenly feeling small and defenseless at the sheer level of dominance Michael is displaying. “I was caught,” he finishes, his rosy bottom lips juts out in a form of a pout and he looks at his lap.
“You were caught,” Michael repeats harshly, loud enough to make James jump. “And what were you caught doing?”
James is silent, afraid to answer for fear of what punishment it might bring. He hears the ticking of the clock on Michael’s desk and his heartbeat slows down with it, matching the pace as he thinks.
“Well,” Michael presses, unhooking his legs to lean forward onto the desk.
“I was,” James says softly, daring to look up at Michael with his blue eyes sparkling with shame and regret, “smoking in the boys’ room.”
“Smoking. In. The. Boys’. Room,” Michael parrots pointedly, the scowl on his face deepening and it twists at James’s chest tightly. “Do you know that is not only against the school rules, but it is also a fire hazard and poor for your health?”
James continues to watch Michael, his eyes roaming the sharp edges of the man’s face, the firm muscles that sets his jaw. “Yes,” he responds weakly, “yes, sir, I know.”
“Then why, Mr. McAvoy, did you do it,” Michael spits, his hands dropping onto the wood, his head tilted with curiosity.
“I wanted to know,” James starts, but his voice gets caught in this throat and he swallows thickly.
Michael waits for James to finish, but he doesn’t and that only makes Michael’s temper flare. He stands from his chair and rounds the desk. His long, lean body looms over the smaller boy and his smolder blue eyes bore down on the kid as if he were trying to burn the confession out of him. “You wanted to know what?”
“I wanted to know,” James tries again; his gaze finally tears away from Michael’s and he stares at the hardwood floor instead. “I wanted to know what it felt like… to be a man.”
“You wanted to know what it felt like to be a man,” Michael echoes, laughter in his voice. “Mr. McAvoy, there are other ways to do that.” James looks up at him, surprised at the statement. “Up.”
Instantly, James is out of his seat. There is little room between them now, Michael’s large body a breath away from James’s smaller one and the air between them is thick and hot. “Pants down and bend over the desk. Ten lickings for the smoking should do it.”
There is little protest from James as he moves to the desk and he quickly undoes his slacks and wiggles them to his knees. He bends over, his plump behind nearly completely visible in the excessively tight briefs.
Michael produces a paddle from seemingly nowhere and stands behind James, his eyes on the firm behind. “Count them, if you please, Mr. McAvoy.” He pulls the paddle back and swats James on the bottom producing a yelp of ‘one’ from the small man. “Louder.” Michael swings again, this time the paddle smacks the fat and it jiggles from impact.
“Two,” James shouts, his fingers digging into the wood of the desk. The paddlings come slow and hard, Michael thankfully giving James enough time to recover from one before the next one comes. At ten his ass is on fire and Michael seems to be satisfied.
The paddle is set down next to James and the boy is spun around to face Michael. He’s pinned against the desk, the dark oak pressing against his sore bottom and Michael’s fit body pushing at his front. He can feel the evidence of Michael’s excitement press against his bare thigh and he’s surprised at his own as it rubs against Michael’s hip.
A large hand grips at his jaw and James whimpers, his eyes unsure of what Michael wants from him, but he’s sure the punishment isn’t over. “Beautiful,” Michael whispers as his grip loosens and his fingers run down James’s flushed cheeks. “You’re still young, Mr. McAvoy, why would you want to grow up so quickly?”
James is shaking, his body hot and needy, but he finds the strength to answer. “S-So… So I can… b-be with… with you, M-Mr. Fassbender.”
The reply doesn’t seem to shock Michael, instead he just chuckles as if it wasn’t the first time he’s heard those words from his students. “So you can be with me. Mr. McAvoy, you don’t need to grow up for that.”
Before James can breathe, Michael’s lips are on his, hard and heavy as if they were trying to suck the very life out of him. The large hands on him roam his tiny body with an eagerness that he’s never felt before. He’s unsure of what to do with his own, so he places them on Michael’s arms. He can feel the man’s biceps straining against the fabric enclosing them and that alone sends a hot wave of white heat through James’s body and a moan ripples from his throat.
Michael bites at his lips, forcing him to open up and James obliges before a tongue is shoved into his mouth. It’s demanding and possessive, so unlike the kisses James had before. He melts into Michael, allowing the man to use every bit of his power and body to take over him. He’ll give Michael want he wants as long as he’s forgiven.
They part for air. James is flushed and panting, his hands now on the desk behind him to keep himself steady. He watches Michael as the man starts to remove his jacket and tie, tossing them somewhere unimportant. A look tells James to do the same and he does, discarding his blazer and tie. As an afterthought, he toes off his loafers and kicks off his pants, leaving him standing there in a white undershirt and straining briefs.
“On the desk,” Michael commands as he works at his belt. “Sit.”
Obedient, James hops onto the desk, kicking his feet lightly as he waits. Michael’s shirts are gone leaving him in a pair of open slacks. His chest is toned, void of hair, and James can’t keep his eyes off of it. Timidly, he reaches out to run a hand down the smooth contours of the muscles and smiles coyly when he sees Michael visibly shiver.
There’s a growl and Michael’s on him again, another rough kiss, but James is ready this time. He offers his mouth freely and arches his body to meet Michael’s. This time their cocks brush together and James feels the teeth from Michael’s zipper as well as the lump hidden beneath boxers. They moan, nearly in unison and James happily grinds against the man, which in turn, rubs his raw behind against the smooth wood of the desk and sends a thrill down his spine. It hurts, but it’s a good hurt.
Michael leaves his mouth and kisses along his jaw, down to his neck. When he finds himself face to face with fabric, he pulls back and rips the thin cotton down the middle to reveal James’s pale, flat chest. He’s nothing compared to Michael, but doesn’t seem to stop the man as he readily latches onto a pale nipple and sucks it greedily into his mouth.
James openly moans, bowing his back to bring himself closer to those eager teeth and tongue. His hips move on their own accord, thrusting and rocking in a rhythm they set together. He does his best to steady himself with one hand and bring the other to dive into the tick ginger curls on top of Michael’s head. He gives with a tug and sends Michael into a frenzy. The mouth is gone from his chest and back onto his in a desperate kiss. “I’m going to fuck you, Mr. McAvoy,” Michael growls. “I’m going to make you into a man.”
Butterflies flutter in James’s stomach as Michael pulls away long enough to grab what looks like an old fashion ink well. There’s no explanation given, instead, Michael’s fingers loop into the waistband of James’s briefs and tugs them down and off. He hisses when his erection is exposed to air and his abused ass meets cold wood.
Michael eyes the free cock, watching it bounce up and down, waving for his attention. He licks his lips and smiles, that predatory look is back upon his face and James swallows hard.
James watches as Michael takes the stopper from the ink well and dips a finger at a time into it. When they emerge, there is no ink covering them, just a thick clear goo and is coating them generously. “Something tells me that I’m not the first student on this desk, Mr. Fassbender,” James notes, a slight look of annoyance slides onto his face.
“No, Mr. McAvoy, you’re not,” Michael admits as he drops to his knees, “but you’re the one that I wanted most.” This seems to please James as he beams down at him and Michael returns the smile before his mouth swallows James’s cock whole.
James nearly squeals when he’s taken fully, but he does fall back onto the desk. He throws an arm over his eyes, but his free hand is back into Michael’s hair, pulling and encouraging him as his head begins to bob. Without coaching, James’s legs find themselves bent, his feet on the edge of the desk, opening wide for Michael to see.
He’s so caught up in the way Michael caresses his swollen flesh with his warm tongue that he doesn’t realize that a cold gelled finger is prodding at his hole. It’s too late to stop it as the finger pushes in, a long, slender digit that seems never ending. James removes the arm from his face and props himself up onto one elbow, staring down at the man between his legs.
The finger works him, slicks him up and James soon forgets about the prickling pain he feels from the intrusion. He focuses on the wet heat the surrounds him when the second and third fingers find their way in. James mewls and whimpers, sounds he’s never made before now, and simply allows himself to be taken.
The mouth sucks and licks, bobs and bounces as the fingers stretch and pull James wide. He can feel the tingle in his toes, the heat pool in his stomach and the white start to take over his vision. It’s there, the edge that he needs and he starts to tumble over it, but then it’s all gone. Lost. The fingers and the mouth are gone.
James stares at Michael, mouth slack as if the man just committed the ultimate sin. “What--?”
Michael says nothing and just drops his pants and boxers to the floor, finally freeing his own erection from its prison. It’s thick, long, and James swears he can see it throbbing. It will tear him in two if they weren’t careful, but Michael’s face softens and grabs the ink well again. “I’m gentle,” he assures, “in the beginning.” He turns the inkwell upside down and dumps the lubricant onto his cock, coating it just as well as his fingers. His large hand wraps around himself and pumps. Michael loses himself in the motion, his eyes dark with lust stare at James, how wonton and willing he looks.
“Stop,” James cries out, sitting up to grab Michael’s arm. “Not before you fuck me,” he adds softly, the words sounding much hotter in his Scottish drawl.
“A+ for you, Mr. McAvoy,” Michael replies, pulling James to the edge of the desk. He’s tall enough, just barely, to do this without any strain. He lines himself up and stares at James, blue on blue, before he slowly pushes in. There’s a groan, but he’s not sure from whom, as the tight, welcoming muscles all but pulls him inside. It’s almost too much to bear and Michael forces himself to take it slow, take a few deep breaths and for fuck’s sake don’t look into James’s eyes.
“B-B-Big,” James whimpers as his already sore bottom screams with pain. He was right; he’s going to be split in two. “Big. Big. Cock, oh fuck,” he moans, his hands on Michael’s biceps again, holding on for dear life as he tosses his head back from pure ecstasy.
“Language,” Michael reprimands smoothly, though he’s not sure how since it’s taking all his will power to not slam into the smaller man.
“S-Sorry, Mr. F-Fassbender,” James breaths, his head upright and staring apologetically at the man. “I just… I just… oh.”
Michael seats himself inside James and wraps one arm possessively around the boy’s small waist, keeping him in place. “I understand,” he says softly, his free hand brushing a stray hair from James’s face. “I’m going to fuck you properly now. Are you ready?” He’s gentle as he said he would be, but once James gives him the green light, it’s nearly gone.
He holds himself steady with one hand on the desk as the other still is wrapped around James. Michael pulls out of the boy, hissing as the muscles work against him, trying to keep him inside. He grunts and thrusts back in, rocking James’s body hard as he does and it makes the smaller boy mewl with pleasure.
The pace is set and it’s almost brutal, but James doesn’t seem to mind. His legs spread wider as his hips push down, doing his best to keep up with Michael and force him deeper. “Yes. Yes yes yes,” he moans, his pale skin now glowing a bright red. “Harder. H-Harder,” he demands, his fingers clawing at Michael’s bear arms.
“Disrespecting your elders,” Michael growls, a sharp thrust accompanying it, “shameful, Mr. McAvoy; shameful, indeed.” But that doesn’t stop him from giving James what he wants. He pushes inside the boy, as deep as he could go with harsh snaps of his hips. The desk groans underneath them, protesting the abuse it’s taking, but neither care. “Be a good boy, Mr. McAvoy, and touch yourself.”
James happily obeys. A hand falls between them and wraps around the neglected cock, desperately tugging at it at a frantic pace. “Oh. Oh oh oh, M-Mr. F-Fassbender,” he whimpers, his body shaking as his toes curling. His body tenses and clamps down onto Michael’s prick as he comes, his body locking in an arch as he sprays between them.
Michael isn’t far behind. He’s there two thrust after, burying himself as deep as he could go and fills James up.
They ride out their high, panting as their eyes lock. Michael’s still hilt deep when Matthew shouts, “CUT. Beautiful!” But, for them, the world’s gone and they’re still lost in each other.
“Dinner,” Michael asks, pulling out of James with a sigh.
“I’d love some,” he replies, dropping his legs from the desk, “After a shower, of course.”
“Mind if I join you?”
James eyes him carefully, unaware of the assistance rushing around them, handing them towels and robes. After a moment, he smiles and nods, “Sure.”
Pairing: Michael Fassbender/James McAvoy
Rating: NC-17
Warning: Explicit sex, age play/role play, spanking, PWP
Summary: It's not like James has done this before, [at least not in front of a camera and a room full of people,] but he needs the money and it seemed like a good idea at the time. But the guy he's just been introduced to is looking at him like he's dinner and he's starting to think he's in a little over his head.
Note: This is the first time I've written anything McFassy, but I've been lurking for a while. I saw the AU prompt fest and knew I should start writing. This is for prompt number 45 and I hope it's what she/he was looking for. I'm a little nervous for you guys to read it. Please excuse any errors, by the way. I've read it a few times and then my eyes began to cross. Enjoy.
Laid off from work, bills weeks passed due, James desperately needs a job. However, The Fates are once again cruel and he’s denied the position of managing the corner candy store. That’s the fifth interview he’s bombed and his confidence is breaking.
He loosens the light pink slick tie around his neck with a quick jerk and immediately regrets it when the tense, tight muscles in his shoulders feel the pull. “Damn, the luck,” he hisses as he stomps to the bus bench. Small pale hands run through thick dark locks, making him look more disheveled than he already feels.
It is twenty minutes before the next bus runs by and he decides to read the flyers left on the lamp post beside him. He has no interest in the local music scene since it’s filled with doe-eyed dreamers with bad voices and sub-par musical talent, so his eyes quickly dart away from those. There are ads for selling gold, cars, and unused cell phones and if he had any of those, he would take the bait. Then, as if the Universe was apologizing, he spots a flyer for a low budget film looking for ‘youthful looking men over the age of 18’.
James is well into his twenties, but he doesn’t look it. His face is soft, with nearly cherubic cheeks, a round chin and large blue eyes. He doesn’t find himself incredibly attractive, but he thinks he’s decent enough, especially when he finds himself with a nice catch when he’s out at the bars. Nevertheless, he’s been told he looks rather boyish and because of his smaller stature, he’s carded wherever he goes. He doesn’t find it flattering now, but he imagines in another decade or so it will be an ego booster.
With a few acting experiences in high school and some through college, he thinks of giving it a shot. He snatches the flyer from the pole and pulls out his mobile. With slightly shaking hands, more from annoyance of his day than nerves, James dials the number given and waits impatiently with his foot bouncing lightly off the concrete in his knock off designer dress shoes.
“Bacon Productions, this is January, how may I help you today,” comes of the voice from the other end. The lady sounds more irritated than helpful, but James pushes passed it and answers her.
“Uh, hi. Yes. I just saw your advert while waiting for the bus,” he gushes, cringing at his honesty, but continues, “I know the auditions for your -- ah-- movie are today, but is there any way I could squeeze myself in at some point? I-I don’t have any, oh damn, what are they called? Pictures or -- or headshots, there we go, or anything like that…” He trails off awkwardly, his freckled nose wrinkling with slight discomfort.
There’s a pause on the other end and James’s foot begins to bounce faster. He sees the bus rounding the corner and curses mentally. “That’s fine,” January finally replies, “we’ll take some here. Your name?”
“James McAvoy.”
“Mr. McAvoy, we’ll see you in an hour.” She quickly gives him the address before promptly hanging up.
James looks at his watch as the bus pulls to the curb and quickly does a layout of the city and the time he has to get where he needs to be. His apartment is on the way and if traffic’s good enough, he can stop by and change out of his suit into something more appropriate. The doors open with an exhausted sigh, the bus sounding much like how he’s feeling. He shoves the paper into his pocket and climbs aboard. He pays the fare before plopping in the first seat available.
He idly wonders why he set himself up for a movie role when his talents lie somewhere else, but if by some miracle he gets the part, it just means easy money for easy working. Besides, it would give himself time between failing interviews.
The bus stops in front of his flat and James hops off quickly, taking the stairs two a time before he stumbles into his crappy apartment. It’s a bachelor pad if there ever was one, but he doesn’t have time to think of cleaning up last night’s pizza and beer bottles. He runs into his bedroom and nearly rips off his suit - the only good one he has - and plucks through the pile of what he assumes are clean clothes.
He settles for a pair of faded jeans and a light blue dress shirt which he leaves open with the sleeves rolled up and he slips on a pair of boots. After quick trip to the bathroom to relieve himself and mess his hair to make himself appear more ‘boyish’, James sets back out with the flyer in hand and catches the bus for downtown just before it pulls away.
According to his watch, he has another thirty minutes to get to where he needs to go. Traffic midday can be bad and for the most part, today it is. The bus pulls and pushes with little complaint from its passengers. James checks his watch again and finds that it has only been ten minutes and they’re still a few blocks away from where he needs to be. When he finally feels the bus isn’t moving fast enough, he tugs on the string and gets off at the next time, hoofing it.
The office for Bacon Productions is in the middle of the business district, hidden in a maze of small offices of tiny companies trying to make due. Suite F3 is where he finds himself and a simple sign is glued on the door to tell him he’s in the right place. Timidly, he knocks and waits, not for very long, when a tall blond cup of sex answer the door with her seductive smile and pretty blue eyes. “You must be Mr. McAvoy,” she states rather than asking, her tone not matching her expression. She still seems to be annoyed, but James doesn’t mind if he can stare at her long pale legs that fall from her white mini skirt. January seems to know what’s going on in his head and lets out a laugh before she steps aside to let him in.
James stumbles forward, catches himself and clears his throat as he absently straightens his shirt. “Yes. Yes, I am,” he finally answers, standing just a few feet away from a desk, presumably January’s. He takes a quick look around the office, there only two doors that leads from where he’s standing. One door reads ‘Kevin Bacon, Producer’, the other door is bare.
January catches him staring at the naked door and she motions for him to go to it. “We’ll take your pictures next to it while Mr. Bacon finishes up with his current audition.” She moves gracefully to her desk, pulls out a digital camera and moves to stand in front of him. “Smile,” she says almost mockingly before she snaps a picture that James wasn’t ready for. “Dreadful. Stand up straight and be ready.”
He stands up as he’s told, clutching the hem of his open shirt shyly as he attempts a smile for her. The flash goes off and she looks down into the tiny screen, her face nearly glowing at what she sees. “A few more. Act natural.” James stands there, feeling a little self-conscious, but gives her half smiles and does his best to try and avoid her gaze. “Great. Have a seat.”
With a heavy sigh, he takes a spot near the blank door and watches it warily. The thought of turning tail and running crosses his mind, but he reminds himself that nothing venture means nothing gained, so he shifts in his seat and frowns.
The only sounds in the room are of his watch, slowly ticking away and reminding him of how impatient he is, and the other is of January, clicking away at her small laptop, ignoring him. James decides that it isn’t polite to stare, even if the woman is beautiful and finds the pattern of the carpet interesting, if not dizzying.
Tick, tick, tick, he mimics in his mind, counting the seconds before the door opens. A young man steps out, one not much younger than himself, and shakes who James can only assume is ‘Kevin Bacon, Producer’s’ hand. They exchange quiet words before the man. Boy. Man-boy exits the office.
“You’re next,” Kevin announces as January hops from her desk to bring her boss the camera. James stands to join them as the older man clicks through the photos, snorting as the slide by before heading into the unlabeled room. “On the stool,” he instructs and James takes the instruction well, flopping onto it. “Have you done any acting, kid?” Kid. The title causes James to quirk a brow and that’s when Kevin finally locks eyes with him. “Well?”
“Oh. Some in high school, a bit in college,” he answers. He hoists one foot to catch on a rung of the stool. The heel of his boot snags it and he leans forward on his grounded leg, one hand on his knee, the other rubbing nervously on his stretched leg. “Never in a movie or anything like that.”
Kevin’s silent for a moment, watching James as if he’s judging every inch of him, every movement, and he is. “Are you gay?”
The question takes James by surprise and he chokes a little. “I’m sorry. What?”
“Are you gay,” Kevin repeats, his tone slightly impatient. “Have you slept with other men before? Are you gay?”
“Well, I’ve taken a few blokes home before-I’m sorry,” he pauses, giving an empty apology, “but what does this have to do with anything?”
“Ever tried your hand at age play,” Kevin presses on. “Pretend you’re older, younger, during sex?”
James stares at the two openly, a look of pure confusion upon his face. “I think I’m in the wrong place,” he starts to say, getting up from his seat. “I’m sorry to waste-”
“The job pays a grand and a half for a day,” Kevin mentions, eyes still trained on him, “it won’t go longer than two days, maybe not even one if everything goes smoothly. If you’re good, there are other roles you’d be good at.”
Fifteen hundred for the day, that could pay the rent and his bills; double that could fill up his savings until he finds a real job. There’s a not so uncomfortable silence in the room as January and Kevin allow him to think over the offer. “What exactly is this movie about?”
“It’s an age play porn. You’ll be the young school boy handled by your headmaster. Ever been to prep school,” Kevin asks, laughing. The lines around his eyes are tinkling and the lines around them are deep, his face seems too mirthful to be in the porn industry. He could be a mall Santa if his hair turned white.
“When I was younger in Scotland,” James responds idly, the idea of being in porn making him slightly dizzy. “And you expect me to have sex in front of a camera with a total stranger?”
Kevin laughs again, this time joined by January. “That’s the idea. Though, you can meet him if you want. Michael enjoys breaking in fresh ones.” They stand up from the desk and walk around to him. The older man slaps a hand onto James’s shoulder before he pulls him into one armed hug as he leads him out of the room. “You’ve got potential, kid. Your naïve, innocent look can get you into a lot of gigs. Just stick with me, alright?” They stop at January’s desk and Kevin scribbles down an address in writing that is neater than most before he hands to it James. “Be there tomorrow at eight. Eat a good breakfast; you’ll need your stamina.” He barks another laugh before he releases James and shoves him gently towards the door.
The rest of James’s afternoon is a blur. He finds himself at his favorite diner, eating a burger he doesn’t remember ordering. It is hard for him to come to terms with the fact that he agreed to be in a skin flick. He has indulged himself in many a movie, some even homosexual, but to be in one was something else entirely.
He moves around the rest of the evening, his mind still in the clouds, before he goes to bed after another night of drinking alone. The alarm wakes him out a quarter after seven and he sleepily beats it into silence. The morning turns out to be like the past evening and James goes about showering, dressing and eating a jellied crumpet with his black coffee. It wasn’t as good as Kevin expected it to be, but James doesn’t mind.
The address he was given was on the outskirts of the city in a well-to-do neighborhood. The cab pulls in front of a large home with a well-manicured lawn and wrought iron fence to block out the public. James pays the driver and steps the gate, peering in before he presses the intercom. A deep voice rings from the other end, asking who he was and what his business was. After a quick exchange and a wait for verification, James is buzzed in and the gate slowly opens.
He makes his way up the driveway to the elaborate double oak doors and gives one knock before they open. January greets him once again, this time in flattering top and tight jeans. “On time again,” she notes, “a very good impression.” She gives him a genuine smile this time and leads him inside.
The foyer is large; a den leads off to the left, a living area leads off to the right and in front of him is a grand stair case. The floors are marbled and the walls are a matching oak to the doors. “Who owns this place?”
“Mr. Vaughn’s grandfather,” she replies, her heels clacking against the floor as they move passed the staircase and down the hall. James hears voices and banging in the room they’re approaching, but she veers to the left instead and opens the door to what was once a bedroom, he assumes, but the furniture is replaced by mobile clothes racks and two vanities.
The racks are filled with jackets, slacks and ties. “Those were my school colors,” he admits softly, walking to the nearest jacket to examine it. It’s a navy blazer embroider with gold, on the breast a crest of a small lion roaring up at him makes James laugh to himself. He puts the coat back and turns to January, still feeling a little frazzled.
“Don’t worry about it, hunny,” she tries to soothe him. “Porn’s as easy as it looks. Just do what Mr. Vaughn says and follow Michael’s lead, everything will be fine.” She takes her leave as the stylists walk in and begin to transform boyish future businessman James into a schoolboy.
The khaki slacks are tight on him, cupping the areas that pornographic movies focus on, much to James’s discomfort. The dress shirt and blazer are fitted, clinging close to his tiny frame as they could get it without making him look like the Hulk. “I feel stupid,” he complains, looking into the mirror as they play with his hair and brush him over with makeup. “I look stupid.”
He wears the sour look out of the dressing area and into the actual movie set, to use the term loosely. It was a large study with a heavy oak desk near a row of bay windows. Shelves lined the room, shoved carefully with books and James wonders idly if they have been read at all. It takes him a moment, but he soon remembers that this is similar to his old headmaster’s office and he starts to feel uncomfortable.
Matthew Vaughn strides up to James, all business but with a smile and shakes his hand. “I knew Kevin would find me the right guy. Matthew Vaughn, I’ll be your director.” He holds James by the shoulders and takes a step back as if he was admiring a masterpiece. A delighted noise climbs out of Matthew’s throat and he almost throws his arms up giddily, but checks himself and simply lets James go. “You’re perfect, just as I’d imagine. Now, there is no written dialogue, so just go with what you feel is best. Michael will guide you along,” he’s told for the third time, “so just follow his lead and we’ll make magic.”
“I still haven’t met this… Michael,” James pipes up, looking around as the production crew busy themselves with lighting and angles.
“Oh,” Matthew blinks and spins around to find a large man speaking with January and Kevin. He excuses himself to grab him and bring him over. “This is Michael Fassbender,” he introduces, “Michael, this is…”
“James,” he squeaks, eyeing the taller man before he clears his throat, “McAvoy. James McAvoy.”
“James,” the man repeats, holding out a large hand, “a pleasure to meet you. I’m looking forward to working with you.” A smile comes, one so wide that James swears he can see Michael’s molars. The man towers over James and the rest of his body is proportional to that. The tight fitting slacks that he is also forced to wear leaves little to the imagination of what James is in store for and his backside is already sore from the thought.
It's not like James has done this before, at least not in front of a camera and a room full of people, but he needs the money and it seemed like a good idea at the time. But the guy he's just been introduced to is looking at him like he's dinner and he's starting to think he's in a little over his head.
By the time he realizes that their hands were still locked, Michael moves away and back to Kevin. “L-looking forward to it, too,” James says numbly, aware the moment he says it that no one is around him. The set is buzzing and he can barely hear Matthew shouting out orders over the sound of blood in his ears.
He soon finds himself sitting in a chair in front of the desk, Michael sitting behind it with his smile still there, now with an air of smugness. James is staring at Michael as Matthew explains their scene and what he wants, but it falls on deaf ears. He can tell that Michael is lost in his eyes, just as he is with Michael’s, both in their own world until the word ACTION is yelled.
The smile on Michael’s face is gone in a flash and is replaced with a look of utter disappointment. James’s heart breaks at the look and he slouches in his seat a bit, slowly sinking into the role. “Do you know why you’re here, Mr. McAvoy,” Michael’s Irish brogue oozes as he sits back in the large leather chair, his hands templed in front of him and one long leg crossed over the other.
“I-I,” James stutters, suddenly feeling small and defenseless at the sheer level of dominance Michael is displaying. “I was caught,” he finishes, his rosy bottom lips juts out in a form of a pout and he looks at his lap.
“You were caught,” Michael repeats harshly, loud enough to make James jump. “And what were you caught doing?”
James is silent, afraid to answer for fear of what punishment it might bring. He hears the ticking of the clock on Michael’s desk and his heartbeat slows down with it, matching the pace as he thinks.
“Well,” Michael presses, unhooking his legs to lean forward onto the desk.
“I was,” James says softly, daring to look up at Michael with his blue eyes sparkling with shame and regret, “smoking in the boys’ room.”
“Smoking. In. The. Boys’. Room,” Michael parrots pointedly, the scowl on his face deepening and it twists at James’s chest tightly. “Do you know that is not only against the school rules, but it is also a fire hazard and poor for your health?”
James continues to watch Michael, his eyes roaming the sharp edges of the man’s face, the firm muscles that sets his jaw. “Yes,” he responds weakly, “yes, sir, I know.”
“Then why, Mr. McAvoy, did you do it,” Michael spits, his hands dropping onto the wood, his head tilted with curiosity.
“I wanted to know,” James starts, but his voice gets caught in this throat and he swallows thickly.
Michael waits for James to finish, but he doesn’t and that only makes Michael’s temper flare. He stands from his chair and rounds the desk. His long, lean body looms over the smaller boy and his smolder blue eyes bore down on the kid as if he were trying to burn the confession out of him. “You wanted to know what?”
“I wanted to know,” James tries again; his gaze finally tears away from Michael’s and he stares at the hardwood floor instead. “I wanted to know what it felt like… to be a man.”
“You wanted to know what it felt like to be a man,” Michael echoes, laughter in his voice. “Mr. McAvoy, there are other ways to do that.” James looks up at him, surprised at the statement. “Up.”
Instantly, James is out of his seat. There is little room between them now, Michael’s large body a breath away from James’s smaller one and the air between them is thick and hot. “Pants down and bend over the desk. Ten lickings for the smoking should do it.”
There is little protest from James as he moves to the desk and he quickly undoes his slacks and wiggles them to his knees. He bends over, his plump behind nearly completely visible in the excessively tight briefs.
Michael produces a paddle from seemingly nowhere and stands behind James, his eyes on the firm behind. “Count them, if you please, Mr. McAvoy.” He pulls the paddle back and swats James on the bottom producing a yelp of ‘one’ from the small man. “Louder.” Michael swings again, this time the paddle smacks the fat and it jiggles from impact.
“Two,” James shouts, his fingers digging into the wood of the desk. The paddlings come slow and hard, Michael thankfully giving James enough time to recover from one before the next one comes. At ten his ass is on fire and Michael seems to be satisfied.
The paddle is set down next to James and the boy is spun around to face Michael. He’s pinned against the desk, the dark oak pressing against his sore bottom and Michael’s fit body pushing at his front. He can feel the evidence of Michael’s excitement press against his bare thigh and he’s surprised at his own as it rubs against Michael’s hip.
A large hand grips at his jaw and James whimpers, his eyes unsure of what Michael wants from him, but he’s sure the punishment isn’t over. “Beautiful,” Michael whispers as his grip loosens and his fingers run down James’s flushed cheeks. “You’re still young, Mr. McAvoy, why would you want to grow up so quickly?”
James is shaking, his body hot and needy, but he finds the strength to answer. “S-So… So I can… b-be with… with you, M-Mr. Fassbender.”
The reply doesn’t seem to shock Michael, instead he just chuckles as if it wasn’t the first time he’s heard those words from his students. “So you can be with me. Mr. McAvoy, you don’t need to grow up for that.”
Before James can breathe, Michael’s lips are on his, hard and heavy as if they were trying to suck the very life out of him. The large hands on him roam his tiny body with an eagerness that he’s never felt before. He’s unsure of what to do with his own, so he places them on Michael’s arms. He can feel the man’s biceps straining against the fabric enclosing them and that alone sends a hot wave of white heat through James’s body and a moan ripples from his throat.
Michael bites at his lips, forcing him to open up and James obliges before a tongue is shoved into his mouth. It’s demanding and possessive, so unlike the kisses James had before. He melts into Michael, allowing the man to use every bit of his power and body to take over him. He’ll give Michael want he wants as long as he’s forgiven.
They part for air. James is flushed and panting, his hands now on the desk behind him to keep himself steady. He watches Michael as the man starts to remove his jacket and tie, tossing them somewhere unimportant. A look tells James to do the same and he does, discarding his blazer and tie. As an afterthought, he toes off his loafers and kicks off his pants, leaving him standing there in a white undershirt and straining briefs.
“On the desk,” Michael commands as he works at his belt. “Sit.”
Obedient, James hops onto the desk, kicking his feet lightly as he waits. Michael’s shirts are gone leaving him in a pair of open slacks. His chest is toned, void of hair, and James can’t keep his eyes off of it. Timidly, he reaches out to run a hand down the smooth contours of the muscles and smiles coyly when he sees Michael visibly shiver.
There’s a growl and Michael’s on him again, another rough kiss, but James is ready this time. He offers his mouth freely and arches his body to meet Michael’s. This time their cocks brush together and James feels the teeth from Michael’s zipper as well as the lump hidden beneath boxers. They moan, nearly in unison and James happily grinds against the man, which in turn, rubs his raw behind against the smooth wood of the desk and sends a thrill down his spine. It hurts, but it’s a good hurt.
Michael leaves his mouth and kisses along his jaw, down to his neck. When he finds himself face to face with fabric, he pulls back and rips the thin cotton down the middle to reveal James’s pale, flat chest. He’s nothing compared to Michael, but doesn’t seem to stop the man as he readily latches onto a pale nipple and sucks it greedily into his mouth.
James openly moans, bowing his back to bring himself closer to those eager teeth and tongue. His hips move on their own accord, thrusting and rocking in a rhythm they set together. He does his best to steady himself with one hand and bring the other to dive into the tick ginger curls on top of Michael’s head. He gives with a tug and sends Michael into a frenzy. The mouth is gone from his chest and back onto his in a desperate kiss. “I’m going to fuck you, Mr. McAvoy,” Michael growls. “I’m going to make you into a man.”
Butterflies flutter in James’s stomach as Michael pulls away long enough to grab what looks like an old fashion ink well. There’s no explanation given, instead, Michael’s fingers loop into the waistband of James’s briefs and tugs them down and off. He hisses when his erection is exposed to air and his abused ass meets cold wood.
Michael eyes the free cock, watching it bounce up and down, waving for his attention. He licks his lips and smiles, that predatory look is back upon his face and James swallows hard.
James watches as Michael takes the stopper from the ink well and dips a finger at a time into it. When they emerge, there is no ink covering them, just a thick clear goo and is coating them generously. “Something tells me that I’m not the first student on this desk, Mr. Fassbender,” James notes, a slight look of annoyance slides onto his face.
“No, Mr. McAvoy, you’re not,” Michael admits as he drops to his knees, “but you’re the one that I wanted most.” This seems to please James as he beams down at him and Michael returns the smile before his mouth swallows James’s cock whole.
James nearly squeals when he’s taken fully, but he does fall back onto the desk. He throws an arm over his eyes, but his free hand is back into Michael’s hair, pulling and encouraging him as his head begins to bob. Without coaching, James’s legs find themselves bent, his feet on the edge of the desk, opening wide for Michael to see.
He’s so caught up in the way Michael caresses his swollen flesh with his warm tongue that he doesn’t realize that a cold gelled finger is prodding at his hole. It’s too late to stop it as the finger pushes in, a long, slender digit that seems never ending. James removes the arm from his face and props himself up onto one elbow, staring down at the man between his legs.
The finger works him, slicks him up and James soon forgets about the prickling pain he feels from the intrusion. He focuses on the wet heat the surrounds him when the second and third fingers find their way in. James mewls and whimpers, sounds he’s never made before now, and simply allows himself to be taken.
The mouth sucks and licks, bobs and bounces as the fingers stretch and pull James wide. He can feel the tingle in his toes, the heat pool in his stomach and the white start to take over his vision. It’s there, the edge that he needs and he starts to tumble over it, but then it’s all gone. Lost. The fingers and the mouth are gone.
James stares at Michael, mouth slack as if the man just committed the ultimate sin. “What--?”
Michael says nothing and just drops his pants and boxers to the floor, finally freeing his own erection from its prison. It’s thick, long, and James swears he can see it throbbing. It will tear him in two if they weren’t careful, but Michael’s face softens and grabs the ink well again. “I’m gentle,” he assures, “in the beginning.” He turns the inkwell upside down and dumps the lubricant onto his cock, coating it just as well as his fingers. His large hand wraps around himself and pumps. Michael loses himself in the motion, his eyes dark with lust stare at James, how wonton and willing he looks.
“Stop,” James cries out, sitting up to grab Michael’s arm. “Not before you fuck me,” he adds softly, the words sounding much hotter in his Scottish drawl.
“A+ for you, Mr. McAvoy,” Michael replies, pulling James to the edge of the desk. He’s tall enough, just barely, to do this without any strain. He lines himself up and stares at James, blue on blue, before he slowly pushes in. There’s a groan, but he’s not sure from whom, as the tight, welcoming muscles all but pulls him inside. It’s almost too much to bear and Michael forces himself to take it slow, take a few deep breaths and for fuck’s sake don’t look into James’s eyes.
“B-B-Big,” James whimpers as his already sore bottom screams with pain. He was right; he’s going to be split in two. “Big. Big. Cock, oh fuck,” he moans, his hands on Michael’s biceps again, holding on for dear life as he tosses his head back from pure ecstasy.
“Language,” Michael reprimands smoothly, though he’s not sure how since it’s taking all his will power to not slam into the smaller man.
“S-Sorry, Mr. F-Fassbender,” James breaths, his head upright and staring apologetically at the man. “I just… I just… oh.”
Michael seats himself inside James and wraps one arm possessively around the boy’s small waist, keeping him in place. “I understand,” he says softly, his free hand brushing a stray hair from James’s face. “I’m going to fuck you properly now. Are you ready?” He’s gentle as he said he would be, but once James gives him the green light, it’s nearly gone.
He holds himself steady with one hand on the desk as the other still is wrapped around James. Michael pulls out of the boy, hissing as the muscles work against him, trying to keep him inside. He grunts and thrusts back in, rocking James’s body hard as he does and it makes the smaller boy mewl with pleasure.
The pace is set and it’s almost brutal, but James doesn’t seem to mind. His legs spread wider as his hips push down, doing his best to keep up with Michael and force him deeper. “Yes. Yes yes yes,” he moans, his pale skin now glowing a bright red. “Harder. H-Harder,” he demands, his fingers clawing at Michael’s bear arms.
“Disrespecting your elders,” Michael growls, a sharp thrust accompanying it, “shameful, Mr. McAvoy; shameful, indeed.” But that doesn’t stop him from giving James what he wants. He pushes inside the boy, as deep as he could go with harsh snaps of his hips. The desk groans underneath them, protesting the abuse it’s taking, but neither care. “Be a good boy, Mr. McAvoy, and touch yourself.”
James happily obeys. A hand falls between them and wraps around the neglected cock, desperately tugging at it at a frantic pace. “Oh. Oh oh oh, M-Mr. F-Fassbender,” he whimpers, his body shaking as his toes curling. His body tenses and clamps down onto Michael’s prick as he comes, his body locking in an arch as he sprays between them.
Michael isn’t far behind. He’s there two thrust after, burying himself as deep as he could go and fills James up.
They ride out their high, panting as their eyes lock. Michael’s still hilt deep when Matthew shouts, “CUT. Beautiful!” But, for them, the world’s gone and they’re still lost in each other.
“Dinner,” Michael asks, pulling out of James with a sigh.
“I’d love some,” he replies, dropping his legs from the desk, “After a shower, of course.”
“Mind if I join you?”
James eyes him carefully, unaware of the assistance rushing around them, handing them towels and robes. After a moment, he smiles and nods, “Sure.”