Grand Prix
Pairing: Eric Murphy/Vincent Chase [Entourage]
Date Written: August 31-September 13, 2008
Notes: For un_love_you prompt #17: Wish I didn't love you.
Eric wakes up to slowly come to the realization that he has no fucking idea where he is right now. It's not his room in Vince's new house, in fact, he's pretty sure that it's not even a room in anyone's house. In the hazy light filtering through some drapes, it looks like a hotel room. No, Eric thinks as he notices a huge water stain on the ceiling, a motel room. He glances around and everything he sees confirms that: old TV on a battered dresser, puke yellow everything and the sound of either porn or people in the room next-door fucking.
In his final sweep of the room, he finally catches on to the fact that someone is in bed with him. Someone male, judging by the broad back and narrow hips, which are about all he can discern with the cheesy gold bedspread thrown over the guy. The hair looks kind of girly though, all curly and shit, kind of like Vince's.
At that, Eric's heart freezes in his throat. Either he's in bed with Vince or some guy who looks like Vince, but either way, that cannot be good. He slips out of the bed and sneaks into the bathroom where he locks the door, pisses, and then paces a bit, trying to piece together the night before.
Okay, so he and the boys had been at a bar somewhere. There was a fight. Yeah, Eric thinks as he looks in the mirror and sees a bruise on his jaw, a fight. So they got kicked out and then what? Only Eric doesn't remember all that, it's just speculation. So what really happened?
He doesn’t have time to figure it out though because someone is banging on the door.
"E?"
Vince. Well, that solves one part of this nightmare. "Yeah."
"Let me in, man. I've gotta piss."
Eric unlocks the door to find Vince standing there with a sheet wrapped around his waist. It's not like Vince to be so modest, but then again, he's got bruises on his arms and since when does Vince get involved in fights? Really, this is too much to handle with a hangover, so Eric lets Vince in and walks out into the main room. He manages to find most of his clothes and puts them on then sits down on the edge of the bed and waits. Maybe Vince remembers what happened because he sure as hell doesn't.
Ten minutes later, Vince emerges from the bathroom, still with the sheet around his hips. He looks blankly around the room at everything but Eric.
"Tell me you know why we're here, because I sure as fuck don't," Eric mutters while Vince bends down to pick up a pair of boxer shorts.
"You don't remember?" Vince's voice trembles just a bit and that scares Eric.
"Just tell me."
Vince slips on the boxers and sits down next to Eric. "You were drunk. We were both drunk. So let's just forget it, okay?"
"Forget what?!" Eric throws up his hands in frustration.
Slowly, Vince turns to stare at him, his eyes wide with disbelief. "I can't believe that you don't remember."
"I can't believe you won't fucking tell me what I don't remember."
With a sigh, Vince flops back on the bed. "We were drunk."
"Yeah, you keep saying that," Eric says dryly as he glances over his shoulder at Vince.
Vince grabs Eric's arm and yanks him back so he's lying down and then rolls on top of him. "This ring a bell?"
Eric's hands go up to push Vince away and that's when he notices how perfect they fit the bruises he noticed earlier. "Oh, fuck."
"Now you're getting it," Vince laughs wearily. He rolls off Eric and starts pulling on the rest of his clothes. "We were drunk. We fucked. Whatever."
Eric sits up and grabs Vince's wrist. "But why don't I remember any of it? Was I that drunk, really?"
"I don't know. You did kind of pass out afterward. Does it really matter?"
The look Vince is giving him makes Eric shake his head. Vince doesn't want to talk about it, so they won't. Eric touches one of the bruises on Vince's arm. No, they have to talk about this.
"I did this?"
"You were pretty rough." He shrugs with a little awkward lift of his shoulders, and that more than anything tells Eric that Vince is trying so very hard to be cool about this.
"Does it hurt? Did I… I mean, are you bad off?"
Vince sighs and sits back down next to Eric. "I'm fine. Okay? Let's not have a Catholic boy guilt trip over it. It was just sex."
Just sex doesn't end with both people bruised in Eric's experience. He touches another set of bruises at Vince's throat and is overwhelmed by the urge to press his thumb into them. Vince makes this half-moan, half-hiss sound and Eric remembers that. He remembers his fingers digging into Vince's collarbone, pinning him against the door to this room, kissing him with a fierce hunger and Vince just submitting to it without protest, begging Eric to fuck him, to make him feel alive.
"Fuck," Eric whispers.
The images in his head repulse him and turn him on at the same time. He just can't believe he would get so rough, even if Vince was willing. Without thinking, Eric leans in and kisses the mark.
"E," Vince murmurs. "This was a one-time thing."
"Yeah?"
"Yeah," Vince affirms, but then he rubs his cheek against Eric's. "You know it can't be anything else."
Eric swallows hard. "Vince, you know I--"
Vince presses a finger to Eric's lips. "I know you do. I know how you work. But you have to know how this will end too."
"Yeah," Eric says shakily, as he pushes Vince's hand away, because he does. He may be Vince's guy, but Vince doesn't belong to anyone; he's not built like that. "I know, Vin, I know."
"So we're good?"
Vince doesn't wait for an answer, probably doesn't even expect one. What else could Eric possibly say? Vince will always be Vince and Eric being miserable isn't going to change that.
Date Written: August 31-September 13, 2008
Notes: For un_love_you prompt #17: Wish I didn't love you.
Eric wakes up to slowly come to the realization that he has no fucking idea where he is right now. It's not his room in Vince's new house, in fact, he's pretty sure that it's not even a room in anyone's house. In the hazy light filtering through some drapes, it looks like a hotel room. No, Eric thinks as he notices a huge water stain on the ceiling, a motel room. He glances around and everything he sees confirms that: old TV on a battered dresser, puke yellow everything and the sound of either porn or people in the room next-door fucking.
In his final sweep of the room, he finally catches on to the fact that someone is in bed with him. Someone male, judging by the broad back and narrow hips, which are about all he can discern with the cheesy gold bedspread thrown over the guy. The hair looks kind of girly though, all curly and shit, kind of like Vince's.
At that, Eric's heart freezes in his throat. Either he's in bed with Vince or some guy who looks like Vince, but either way, that cannot be good. He slips out of the bed and sneaks into the bathroom where he locks the door, pisses, and then paces a bit, trying to piece together the night before.
Okay, so he and the boys had been at a bar somewhere. There was a fight. Yeah, Eric thinks as he looks in the mirror and sees a bruise on his jaw, a fight. So they got kicked out and then what? Only Eric doesn't remember all that, it's just speculation. So what really happened?
He doesn’t have time to figure it out though because someone is banging on the door.
"E?"
Vince. Well, that solves one part of this nightmare. "Yeah."
"Let me in, man. I've gotta piss."
Eric unlocks the door to find Vince standing there with a sheet wrapped around his waist. It's not like Vince to be so modest, but then again, he's got bruises on his arms and since when does Vince get involved in fights? Really, this is too much to handle with a hangover, so Eric lets Vince in and walks out into the main room. He manages to find most of his clothes and puts them on then sits down on the edge of the bed and waits. Maybe Vince remembers what happened because he sure as hell doesn't.
Ten minutes later, Vince emerges from the bathroom, still with the sheet around his hips. He looks blankly around the room at everything but Eric.
"Tell me you know why we're here, because I sure as fuck don't," Eric mutters while Vince bends down to pick up a pair of boxer shorts.
"You don't remember?" Vince's voice trembles just a bit and that scares Eric.
"Just tell me."
Vince slips on the boxers and sits down next to Eric. "You were drunk. We were both drunk. So let's just forget it, okay?"
"Forget what?!" Eric throws up his hands in frustration.
Slowly, Vince turns to stare at him, his eyes wide with disbelief. "I can't believe that you don't remember."
"I can't believe you won't fucking tell me what I don't remember."
With a sigh, Vince flops back on the bed. "We were drunk."
"Yeah, you keep saying that," Eric says dryly as he glances over his shoulder at Vince.
Vince grabs Eric's arm and yanks him back so he's lying down and then rolls on top of him. "This ring a bell?"
Eric's hands go up to push Vince away and that's when he notices how perfect they fit the bruises he noticed earlier. "Oh, fuck."
"Now you're getting it," Vince laughs wearily. He rolls off Eric and starts pulling on the rest of his clothes. "We were drunk. We fucked. Whatever."
Eric sits up and grabs Vince's wrist. "But why don't I remember any of it? Was I that drunk, really?"
"I don't know. You did kind of pass out afterward. Does it really matter?"
The look Vince is giving him makes Eric shake his head. Vince doesn't want to talk about it, so they won't. Eric touches one of the bruises on Vince's arm. No, they have to talk about this.
"I did this?"
"You were pretty rough." He shrugs with a little awkward lift of his shoulders, and that more than anything tells Eric that Vince is trying so very hard to be cool about this.
"Does it hurt? Did I… I mean, are you bad off?"
Vince sighs and sits back down next to Eric. "I'm fine. Okay? Let's not have a Catholic boy guilt trip over it. It was just sex."
Just sex doesn't end with both people bruised in Eric's experience. He touches another set of bruises at Vince's throat and is overwhelmed by the urge to press his thumb into them. Vince makes this half-moan, half-hiss sound and Eric remembers that. He remembers his fingers digging into Vince's collarbone, pinning him against the door to this room, kissing him with a fierce hunger and Vince just submitting to it without protest, begging Eric to fuck him, to make him feel alive.
"Fuck," Eric whispers.
The images in his head repulse him and turn him on at the same time. He just can't believe he would get so rough, even if Vince was willing. Without thinking, Eric leans in and kisses the mark.
"E," Vince murmurs. "This was a one-time thing."
"Yeah?"
"Yeah," Vince affirms, but then he rubs his cheek against Eric's. "You know it can't be anything else."
Eric swallows hard. "Vince, you know I--"
Vince presses a finger to Eric's lips. "I know you do. I know how you work. But you have to know how this will end too."
"Yeah," Eric says shakily, as he pushes Vince's hand away, because he does. He may be Vince's guy, but Vince doesn't belong to anyone; he's not built like that. "I know, Vin, I know."
"So we're good?"
Vince doesn't wait for an answer, probably doesn't even expect one. What else could Eric possibly say? Vince will always be Vince and Eric being miserable isn't going to change that.