fanfic: A Merely Professional Discussion
Title: A Merely Professional Discussion
Author: txorakeriak
Fandom: The Libertine RPS
Pairing: Johnny Depp/Jack Davenport, Rochester/Harris implied if you squint
Rating: PG-13 for real person slash
Disclaimer: I’m fairly certain none of this actually happened, so don’t sue me.
Summary/Author's Notes: An interlude on the set of “The Libertine”, written for sandssavvy because she made me do it asked so nicely and the bunnies obliged. Further blame goes to curry_chicken for having posted the gorgeous Johnny/Jack photo of the set.
Beta courtesy goes to the adorable tiggothy, who spent her precious time correcting my meager writings. *glomps you*
Length: 1,142 words
*****
“I want to kiss you.”
Of all the sensible and recommendable things Jack could answer to that, like “Whatever for?” or “Why me?”, he had to answer, “What - now?”, of course, and immediately regretted the words the second they were out. Why Johnny’s presence still made him nervous and say so immensely stupid things, he didn’t know. After all those years. After having spent so much time with him on the “Pirates” set. It was incredible. Incredibly ridiculous.
Johnny stared at him, which looked rather funny since they were still in their costumes, Johnny wearing the quite silly long wig, his brown coat and the huge black boots of Rochester’s, Jack the long red coat of Harris. “Why no, not now - in the movie!” he said and a grin was slowly spreading on his face.
“Ah. I’m sorry-“ Jack hurried to say, unsuccessfully defeating a blush.
“Don’t be,” Johnny interrupted him with a smile. “I just didn’t expect that question, is all.” He leaned back against the requisite wall, careful not to tear it down as he continued. “You know, I understand that I can’t kiss you in a Disney movie - we wouldn’t want to scare the kids, right? Even though I must say that Captain Jack Sparrow has quite a thing for the Commodore.” He winked. “But I’m Lord Rochester, damn it. None of us expects kids to watch that movie - and for the love of ... whoever, dear John Wilmot fucked everything that walked and wasn’t up a tree in time. I’m bloody entitled to kiss you.”
Jack swallowed. He certainly didn’t like where this conversation was going and he felt more uncomfortable and nervous with every word. “But,” he said, rather weakly, “you get to kiss Rupert - I mean, I’m sure he’s feeling very honoured and will do his utmost best-“
“Oh, please.” Johnny waved his hand. “Don’t give me that, Jack. Rochester died of syphilis. One would expect he kissed more than just one bloke in his life, let alone do other things.”
“But,” Jack started again, trying to ignore his racing heart, “what about Cock? Why not him? Why me?” The excitement that was crawling through him and heating his body up was ridiculous, utterly ludicrous - it wasn’t as if the director did everything Johnny suggested, even though he refused him very little. His heart beat even faster at that notion and he cursed himself, exasperated. He had actually intended to calm himself down.
Suddenly, Johnny was very close, and Jack couldn’t tell which of them had, in fact, moved. He could smell a faint trace of perfume mingled with the scent of Johnny’s strong cigarillos and the dusty, ancient smell of the costume and make-up. It was the moment his brain stopped thinking entirely and he was breathing too loud, hands were shaking all of a sudden-
And then Johnny kissed him.
His soft, full lips brushed against Jack’s first, almost weak, unsure, before they locked to his completely, let go again, brushed. Then Johnny was nibbling at Jack’s lower lip and Jack was convinced he’d burst into pieces if that was going on for much longer. It felt amazing, tasted like no kiss he remembered and was so much Johnny that Jack doubted he could take it. The man was too great to be allowed on this earth, really; not just a brilliant actor but also a brilliant kisser, as it seemed. Soft but daring, tasting and allowing to be tasted - and he didn’t stop, he just kept going on...
Far too soon, it was all over and Johnny pulled back, giving Jack that cocky smile while all Jack could do was stare, incredulous.
“You see,” Johnny said after a while, his voice complacent, “that’s why. You feel too bloody good. And it’s a damn shame to keep that from our audience.”
Jack couldn’t help blushing at that. Damn him, it meant nothing! Johnny’s words were flattering, of course, but they were both professionals! He hadn’t come this far by misinterpreting compliments! And he had to say something, something completely innocent and ordinary - maybe return the compliment or make some modest remark - but he couldn’t.
When he spoke again eventually, all he could ask was, “And what of the other things?” He could have slapped himself. Good God, Johnny was seeing someone, had kids - and he, Jack, was married! He was no young lad to flirt with Hollywood heartthrobs - or damn good actors, at that. What the devil was he thinking?
Johnny raised an eyebrow, visibly amused by that question, but immediately afterwards, his face went blank, earnest, showing the professional that he was. Jack almost expected to be chided or at least reminded him of his place - in a friendly and polite way, of course, but still.
No such thing. “Of course I cannot decide that now,” Johnny said, seriously. “I don’t know you that well and-“
Hastily, Jack interrupted him, feeling so immensely stupid, “I’m sorry, so sorry! I don’t know what came over me! You must excuse-“
Johnny put a hand on his shoulder, shaking him slightly until he looked up at Johnny’s face and started drowning in that smirk again. “Really, Jack,” he said in a playfully chiding voice, “did your mother never teach you to let people finish what they're saying?”
That left Jack at a complete loss for words. Really, he had expected many things, would have considered many possibilities of how Johnny could have replied, but he would never have thought of cheerful joking. Not knowing what else to do, he just stood there, his mouth slightly agape and his heart racing like a subway train - yes, he had by now given up getting it back under control - as he was staring at Johnny, almost through him, waiting for clearer words. The man couldn't respond to his flirtatious comment. He simply couldn't.
”What I mean is,” Johnny continued, as seriously as before, “that you can’t really tell from a person’s appearance, gorgeous though it might be, how they fare between the sheets.” Suddenly, a wicked little smile started to crawl along his lips. “I’d have to ask for a full demonstration.”
[sequel: A Merely Professional Performance]
Author: txorakeriak
Fandom: The Libertine RPS
Pairing: Johnny Depp/Jack Davenport, Rochester/Harris implied if you squint
Rating: PG-13 for real person slash
Disclaimer: I’m fairly certain none of this actually happened, so don’t sue me.
Summary/Author's Notes: An interlude on the set of “The Libertine”, written for sandssavvy because she made me do it asked so nicely and the bunnies obliged. Further blame goes to curry_chicken for having posted the gorgeous Johnny/Jack photo of the set.
Beta courtesy goes to the adorable tiggothy, who spent her precious time correcting my meager writings. *glomps you*
Length: 1,142 words
*****
“I want to kiss you.”
Of all the sensible and recommendable things Jack could answer to that, like “Whatever for?” or “Why me?”, he had to answer, “What - now?”, of course, and immediately regretted the words the second they were out. Why Johnny’s presence still made him nervous and say so immensely stupid things, he didn’t know. After all those years. After having spent so much time with him on the “Pirates” set. It was incredible. Incredibly ridiculous.
Johnny stared at him, which looked rather funny since they were still in their costumes, Johnny wearing the quite silly long wig, his brown coat and the huge black boots of Rochester’s, Jack the long red coat of Harris. “Why no, not now - in the movie!” he said and a grin was slowly spreading on his face.
“Ah. I’m sorry-“ Jack hurried to say, unsuccessfully defeating a blush.
“Don’t be,” Johnny interrupted him with a smile. “I just didn’t expect that question, is all.” He leaned back against the requisite wall, careful not to tear it down as he continued. “You know, I understand that I can’t kiss you in a Disney movie - we wouldn’t want to scare the kids, right? Even though I must say that Captain Jack Sparrow has quite a thing for the Commodore.” He winked. “But I’m Lord Rochester, damn it. None of us expects kids to watch that movie - and for the love of ... whoever, dear John Wilmot fucked everything that walked and wasn’t up a tree in time. I’m bloody entitled to kiss you.”
Jack swallowed. He certainly didn’t like where this conversation was going and he felt more uncomfortable and nervous with every word. “But,” he said, rather weakly, “you get to kiss Rupert - I mean, I’m sure he’s feeling very honoured and will do his utmost best-“
“Oh, please.” Johnny waved his hand. “Don’t give me that, Jack. Rochester died of syphilis. One would expect he kissed more than just one bloke in his life, let alone do other things.”
“But,” Jack started again, trying to ignore his racing heart, “what about Cock? Why not him? Why me?” The excitement that was crawling through him and heating his body up was ridiculous, utterly ludicrous - it wasn’t as if the director did everything Johnny suggested, even though he refused him very little. His heart beat even faster at that notion and he cursed himself, exasperated. He had actually intended to calm himself down.
Suddenly, Johnny was very close, and Jack couldn’t tell which of them had, in fact, moved. He could smell a faint trace of perfume mingled with the scent of Johnny’s strong cigarillos and the dusty, ancient smell of the costume and make-up. It was the moment his brain stopped thinking entirely and he was breathing too loud, hands were shaking all of a sudden-
And then Johnny kissed him.
His soft, full lips brushed against Jack’s first, almost weak, unsure, before they locked to his completely, let go again, brushed. Then Johnny was nibbling at Jack’s lower lip and Jack was convinced he’d burst into pieces if that was going on for much longer. It felt amazing, tasted like no kiss he remembered and was so much Johnny that Jack doubted he could take it. The man was too great to be allowed on this earth, really; not just a brilliant actor but also a brilliant kisser, as it seemed. Soft but daring, tasting and allowing to be tasted - and he didn’t stop, he just kept going on...
Far too soon, it was all over and Johnny pulled back, giving Jack that cocky smile while all Jack could do was stare, incredulous.
“You see,” Johnny said after a while, his voice complacent, “that’s why. You feel too bloody good. And it’s a damn shame to keep that from our audience.”
Jack couldn’t help blushing at that. Damn him, it meant nothing! Johnny’s words were flattering, of course, but they were both professionals! He hadn’t come this far by misinterpreting compliments! And he had to say something, something completely innocent and ordinary - maybe return the compliment or make some modest remark - but he couldn’t.
When he spoke again eventually, all he could ask was, “And what of the other things?” He could have slapped himself. Good God, Johnny was seeing someone, had kids - and he, Jack, was married! He was no young lad to flirt with Hollywood heartthrobs - or damn good actors, at that. What the devil was he thinking?
Johnny raised an eyebrow, visibly amused by that question, but immediately afterwards, his face went blank, earnest, showing the professional that he was. Jack almost expected to be chided or at least reminded him of his place - in a friendly and polite way, of course, but still.
No such thing. “Of course I cannot decide that now,” Johnny said, seriously. “I don’t know you that well and-“
Hastily, Jack interrupted him, feeling so immensely stupid, “I’m sorry, so sorry! I don’t know what came over me! You must excuse-“
Johnny put a hand on his shoulder, shaking him slightly until he looked up at Johnny’s face and started drowning in that smirk again. “Really, Jack,” he said in a playfully chiding voice, “did your mother never teach you to let people finish what they're saying?”
That left Jack at a complete loss for words. Really, he had expected many things, would have considered many possibilities of how Johnny could have replied, but he would never have thought of cheerful joking. Not knowing what else to do, he just stood there, his mouth slightly agape and his heart racing like a subway train - yes, he had by now given up getting it back under control - as he was staring at Johnny, almost through him, waiting for clearer words. The man couldn't respond to his flirtatious comment. He simply couldn't.
”What I mean is,” Johnny continued, as seriously as before, “that you can’t really tell from a person’s appearance, gorgeous though it might be, how they fare between the sheets.” Suddenly, a wicked little smile started to crawl along his lips. “I’d have to ask for a full demonstration.”
[sequel: A Merely Professional Performance]