Say You Want Me
Richard had wanted him the first moment he’d seen him, something stirring low in his belly at the sight of those fucking dark eyes sliding over to him and that mouth curling upwards with a lazy smile.
Honestly, he couldn’t really be blamed because he defied anyone to look at Kit in the eyes and not want him, not want to push him to his knees and have that mouth do something other than smile at him.
And it wasn’t really fair, thinking of Kit like that, when Kit had been nothing but friendly. Ok so perhaps, in Richard’s warped mind, he had been a little too friendly, what with the way he liked to touch people all the time, his hands sliding over Richard’s skin, ruffling Maisie’s hair, clapping Richard on the shoulder, tickling Sophie, touching Richard. It was like he couldn’t stop touching Richard and it was driving Richard slightly crazy.
Especially because he’d never actually thought of another man like that before and now it was all he could think about.
And then Kit’s hair had to grow, and it grew with these thick, dark curls that hung over his forehead and Kit would angrily swipe them away, not used to having long hair and Richard would want to brush them back off his forehead, push his fingers through the curls and tilt Kit’s head back till he could lick at Kit’s neck...
See? Slightly crazy.
For the whole season he had tried to ignore it. Tried to ignore the want when he, Kit and Alfie had gone out and gotten stinking drunk after filming wrapped, and Kit had been all hands and Alfie had watched with knowing eyes and a slight smirk on his face. It had taken every single ounce of will power Richard had ever owned not to haul Kit into the bathroom and fuck him right through the flimsy stall door. Especially when Kit had pillowed his head on his hands on the table, a far off smile on his face and gazed up at Richard, his eyes so fucking dark, one of those annoying curls falling across his forehead as he’d sighed out “take me to bed Rich, I’m drunk.” Richard had groaned then, tried not to but it slipped out and Alfie had choked on his beer, the knowing smirk getting wider as Richard stuttered, a ridiculous blush no doubt growing over his cheeks.
Richard was almost glad when they all went home, and he got the gig on Sirens. Months away from Kit even though his stomach still knotted whenever he thought of him, but months away from the temptation. Although, it didn’t really help that Ashley was gay and it meant that he would be kissing guys and wishing they were Kit.
God he was so fucking screwed.
He was getting used to it though, getting used to the slightly sick feeling as he wrapped his hand around himself in the mornings and imagined Kit’s face. And it’s one such morning when his phone rings loudly on the table next to his bed.
“What?” He snaps, squeezing his hand around the base of his dick. There’s a chuckle down the phone.
“Alright mate?” Alfie asks, amused. And no, he isn’t alright, he’s far from alright. He’s basically up shit creek without a fucking paddle.
“Shit Alf, sorry mate,” he stammers, wrenching his hand away from his dick in disgust at himself and sitting up, running a hand over his face.
“Catch you at a bad time?” Alfie asks knowingly and Richard can see the smirk on his face.
“Oh you know, morning glory and all that,” Richard admits and Alfie laughs loudly down the phone.
“Richard, mate, you have got to stop thinking about me like that, you know I don’t swing that way.”
“Fuck you Allen,” Richard counters good-naturedly, scratching at his chin. His beard itches and god he wants a shave. He also wants to whack one out in the shower with the image of Kit in his mind but it doesn’t look like that’s going to happen right now.
“You wish. Anyway, how’s it all going?” Alfie asks sounding genuinely interested and Richard frowns slightly. Not that Alfie isn’t a great guy, he’s hilarious and brash but he isn’t the kind to phone up out of the blue and ask how things are going.
“Great, the guys are brilliant, it’s really challenging and...” Richard begins and Alfie interrupts with a snort.
“Cut the Radio Times bullshit Richard, how’s it going?”
“It’s going really well, Alf, cheers. Looking forward to getting back to you guys though, wielding a sword around and playing at soldiers,” he says pressing his palm into his crotch as he shifts on the bed, the sheets rubbing in just the right way. He stifles a groan.
“Oh speaking of us guys, you spoken to Kit recently?” Richard freezes, hand still pressing into his crotch. Fucking Alfie Fucking Allen, always knows exactly what to say to get a rise about of people and he has just hit the nail completely on the head with that one phrase.
“Not since before you guys went to Glastonbury, why?” Richard tries not to think about Kit in that red t-shirt with his hair swept back off his face and that smile plastered across his lips. And no, Richard had not Google searched Kit thank you very much.
“Oh, no reason. Shit mate, I gotta go, speak later yeah?” The dial tone is almost too loud in his ear and Richard clutches at his phone.
“Yeah ok,” he says to himself, trying to decipher what Alfie’s up to. There was something calculating in Alfie’s tone, but Richard can’t put his finger on it. He looks down at his still hard dick. He rolls his eyes. Honestly, if talking to Alfie isn’t enough to make it go down, then nothing short of his own hand is going to help.
~*~
“Hey, guess what?” Rhys asks as Richard walks onto set that morning. It’s the standard greeting from Rhys that Richard has come to expect, and usually followed up by some menial factoid that Richard has no interest in knowing. Doesn’t mean he doesn’t like the guy though. Rhys is funny, they work well together and Richard enjoys his company.
“What?” he asks, suppressing a sigh. The cold shower this morning wasn’t really enough to satisfy him, neither was the orgasm he managed to have, and there is still the dull throb in his groin that’s beginning to get on his nerves. Today is not going to be a good day.
“You’ve got a new love interest,” Rhys says, raising an eyebrow at him as he pulls the EMT uniform over his shoulders. The good thing about Sirens is that the costumes are much less cumbersome, easy to just throw on and wear all day without feeling like you’re suffocating in fur. Although he has to admit to missing seeing Kit dressed in fur and leather on pretty much a daily basis.
“Oh?” he replies, feigning disinterest. He isn’t massively interested, but it’s always nice to be told these things before, to mentally prepare himself, so to speak, to check out the guy before he has to play at being gay with him.
“Yeah, apparently he’s sticking around too,” Rhys continues with a smirk and Richard wonders what the hell is going on with his friends at the moment and why they keep smirking at him.
“Ok then,” is about as non-committal as he can muster up and Rhys raises his eyebrow again.
“You up for more gay loving?” Kayvan asks as he saunters in. Richard sighs.
“Jesus, you’re as annoying as Rachid,” he grins as Kayvan grins back at him.
“And you’re as gay as Ashley,” Kayvan dodges the shoe that Richard throws at him and dances out of the trailer humming to himself. Rhys snorts as he pulls on his EMT uniform and raises an eyebrow at him.
~*~
His day isn’t getting any better. He’s stumbled over lines more times than he ever has before and when they break for lunch Richard realises there’s a headache building at the back of his head.
“What’s your problem?” Rhys asks and Richard shakes his head, lowering it to the table and resisting the urge to slam it down over and over again.
“Dunno,” he mutters as Kayvan slips into the seat next to him.
“You know,” he says, pointing a carrot stick at Richard who glares up at him, “sexual frustration is a powerful thing. Maybe you need to get laid,” he finishes with a grin as he bites at the carrot. Richard rolls his eyes again and groans as he sits back up.
“I’m just tired, I need coffee,” he says, planting his hands on the table to lift himself up.
“And a shag,” Kayvan mutters and Richard smacks him on the back of the head as he walks over to the coffee machine. He smiles to himself as he picks up a mug and reaches out for the pot. His hand collides with someone else’s though and he mutters an apology as he snatches it back.
“No problem,” says the hand and Richard knows that voice, he’s dreamt of that fucking voice breathing out his name, breath against his ear and hot hands pressing into his skin. His eyes snap upwards and lock onto dark ones staring back at him.
Fuck. Fuckity fuck fuck.
“Hey mate,” Kit smiles easily, a genuine grin on his face.
“Kit,” Richard breathes out and it’s kind of pathetic the way he can’t get the words he wants to say out, like holy shit I missed you, or can we go find a cupboard somewhere and make out. Kit makes a move, takes half a step towards him, his arms lifting out and Richard steps to him, wraps his arms around him and pulls him as tight to him as is allowed in a public place. He resists the urge to close his eyes and just breathe, Kit’s hands pressing into his shoulder blades, and pulls away.
“What are you doing here?”
“Did no one tell you?” Kit asks, running his hand through those curls and Jesus Richard had almost forgotten how mesmerising they were. He drags his eyes away from Kit’s hair.
“Tell me what?” he asks and Kit smiles, a secret curling on his lips as he drags his teeth over the bottom one. Holy Christ alive, he’s going to be the death of Richard one of these days.
“Rich mate, get me a fucking coffee,” Kayvan shouts over the hustle and bustle of the break room and Kit darts a look over at the table. Kayvan raises a hand in greeting and Rhys grins, mirrors Kit’s nod of acknowledgement.
“What the hell is going on?” Richard asks and Kit laughs, claps him hard on the shoulder.
“I’m your new love interest.”
Well fuck it, Richard thinks, isn’t that just the crappy icing on a shitty day.
~*~
Turns out he’s right.
He spends the rest of the day flirting with Kit. Although not the way he really wants to, as himself, but as Ashley and Kit as, whatever the fuck his name is, Richard doesn’t really care, it’s not important. All he cares about is that Kit’s character is a huge flirt and spends a lot of time drawing attention to his mouth.
Richard doesn’t even need to pretend to stare. Nope, he’s doing that all on his own. And not that he can be blamed really, he’s spent the last few months trying not to think about Kit and his mouth and now he’s here in front of him with a pen between his teeth smiling at him shyly, his eyes twinkling. And honestly what Richard wouldn’t give for a comfort break right now.
He manages to find a few blissful minutes peace at the end of the day, locks himself in a bathroom and wraps his hand around his dick that’s been half hard all fucking day. And he doesn’t even want to think about how wrong it is to imagine Kit in his Firemen’s outfit (yes, he’s playing a fucking Fireman, can anyone say cliché?).
“Rich...you up for a drink?” Kayvan’s voice shouts at him and Richard curses.
“Fuck,” Kayvan laughs and Richard hears Rhys and Kit in the background too.
“You bashing one out mate?” Kayvan asks and Richard pulls his uniform back up and wrenches open the bathroom door.
“No,” he says, hoping that none of them pick up on the truth, and the slightly flushed feel of his face. Kit raises a knowing eyebrow and Richard glares at him, willing him to shut up about the time he caught him on set with his trousers around his ankles and his hand wrapped around himself.
It’s Kit’s fault anyway.
“What’s wrong with you?” Rhys asks, laughing and Richard sighs, slams his head against the nearest hard surface. Kit’s hand is warm on his shoulder when he pats him gently.
“Come on, let’s get wasted.”
~*~
In hindsight it probably isn’t a good idea to get totally fucking fall down drunk in his current mindset. Especially not with Kit there doing that whole sleepy drunk thing he does so well, all handsy and leaning on Richard and all Richard wants to do is drag him over the fucking table and fuck him.
And he can’t remember when this became about wanting to fuck Kit rather than just kiss him senseless and find out what his mouth tastes like but Richard is well aware he’s now got a one way ticket to hell.
“Wonder if we’re going to have sex,” Kit slurs, like he’s read Richard’s mind as Richard props him up outside his hotel room and fiddles with the key card. He’s surprised the card doesn’t snap in his hands the way he jams it into the slot, brain almost short circuiting at the thought of actually getting to do that.”
“Tonight?” He asks as he hefts Kit up into his arms and manages to get them both through the door without breaking anything. Kit laughs, a waft of hot air against Richard’s neck, and winds his arms around Richard tighter.
“No silly, in the show,” he says and it’s a testament to how drunk Richard is that he doesn’t even associate Kit’s comment with filming. His dick stirs in his pants when Kit shifts against him and Richard practically throws him down onto the bed, disgusted with himself. Kit glares up at him as he sits, sways slightly and pulls his t-shirt over his head. And holy fucking shit, Kit Harington is half naked in front of him and there isn’t a thing he can do about it. Kit flops back down, his stomach muscles flexing as he breathes, one arm flung over his eyes. His hand is resting on his stomach, fingers just dipping into his waistband and he lifts his arm, looks up at Richard.
“You staying?” He asks and Richard really doesn’t think he should, there is no way he could be held responsible for his actions if he stays another second in this hotel room with Kit looking like that.
“No I uh...I...I gotta go,” He stammers and Kit pouts, honest to god pouts, his bottom lip sticking out and it takes almost every ounce of self control not to launch himself at Kit.
“Aww come on man,” Kit whines and seriously he has got to stop doing stuff like that because Richard’s dick is far too interested right now. Kit hauls himself to his feet and sways slightly, and Richard can’t help himself from reaching out and wrapping his fingers around Kit’s arms. Kit grins lopsidedly. “Let’s drink some more,” he says and Richard really wants to kiss him right now. Kit licks his lips and pulls the bottom one between his teeth and Richard moves slightly, leaning towards him.
“I need a piss,” Kit announces and tugs himself out of Richard’s grasp. He rebounds off the bathroom door.
“Shit,” Richard is well and truly screwed now.
~*~
Makes sense that he would have one of the worst hangovers he’s had in a long time when he opens his eyes. Also makes sense that he wakes with a raging hard on as well. The memory of Kit looking up at him with his lip between his teeth and talking about having sex and asking Richard to stay; he’s said it before and he’ll say it again, it really isn’t his fault.
He’s too hungover to jerk off in the shower, his head pounding as he leans against the wall and wills the water to leach through his skin back into his blood stream.
He gets a taxi to work and slumps in the back seat resisting the urge to vomit every time the car goes over a speedbump, pressing his cheek to the cool glass.
“Morning sunshine,” Kit sings at him as he makes it onto set. He’s got a mug of coffee wrapped in his hands and it looks like he had a shower here, his hair still slightly damp, curling madly around his face.
“How the hell are you still alive?” Richard glares at him and steals his coffee, slumping down into a seat in the break room.
“Awww is Richard a little hungover?” Kit laughs, ruffling Richard’s hair and sliding into the seat next to him. Richard shifts away slightly not wanting to tempt himself with the feel of Kit’s thigh pressed up against his. Kit frowns slightly but smiles at Rhys as he joins them. Rhys takes one look at Richard and laughs, loudly.
“Wow, you look like shit.”
“Why thank you very much,” Richard snaps back and puts his head in his hands. Kit rubs absently at his back in a way that’s meant to be soothing but ends up somehow being erotic, his fingers climbing higher and skimming over the skin at the back of his neck. Richard automatically arches into the touch and Kit’s fingers stop moving. He risks a glance at Kit, his jaw is clenched and he’s not looking at Richard, in fact he’s looking anywhere but Richard, his jaw muscles twitching.
“You guys stay up late?” Rhys asks oblivious to the sudden change in mood and Kit clears his throat, stands up, his hands sliding off Richard’s skin. He shifts uncomfortably and Richard frowns. Kit spares him one last look and for the first time since Richard’s known him he has no idea what he’s thinking.
“I say something?” Rhys asks through a mouthful of bacon and Richard shrugs as he watches Kit push through the crowd of people in the break room.
~*~
Kit spends the rest of the day effectively ignoring Richard. Which is pretty hard considering they have to spend most of the day pretending they’re trying to get into each other’s pants. At least for Kit it’s pretending. Richard wants nothing more than to rip that fireman’s outfit off and have his wicked way with him. Although there is something troubling Kit, Richard can see it in the way he chews on his bottom lip when Victor calls cut, the way he picks at his nails and shifts uncomfortably whenever Richard comes near. It’s kind of driving Richard crazy because no matter what sick thoughts are going through his head right now whenever he looks at Kit, Kit is still his friend and they spent many nights wrapped up in blankets on the set of Game of Thrones, clutching mugs of tea and talking between takes with their shoulders pressed together and Kit would come and watch Richard even though he had to be up early and could have done with the sleep, he would stand behind the camera with a small smile on his face, just watching.
But Kit’s been hiding all day. Richard can’t even find him at lunch and he snaps at Kayvan when he asks where Kit is.
It’s been one day and Richard misses him. And honestly, he wasn’t this pathetic before he met him. He never wanted to kiss another man before either and he wonders how the hell Kit has ruined him, how he’s managed to do it in such a short space of time. He resists the urge to slam his head against the nearest hard surface and digs around in his pocket for the beaten up packet of cigarettes he’s been nursing for two weeks, saving them for a moment exactly like this when he needs to dull his senses with nicotine.
“I thought you quit,” Richard jumps guiltily and turns. Kit’s got his arms crossed over his chest but there’s a smile on his face. Richard glares at him because he’s been messed up all fucking day and here he is acting like nothing happened.
Gorgeous bastard.
“I did,” he says and Kit frowns, stepping towards him looking concerned.
“What’s up?”
“What’s up? I could ask you the same question Mr. I’m going to Ignore Richard Today,” Richard snaps and he hates the way he sounds like a jealous 15 year old girl, he honestly does but there isn’t anything he can do to help it. Kit bites on his bottom lip again and bumps shoulders with him, a small smile tugging at the corner of his mouth.
“Guess I was more hungover that I thought, think I was still drunk this morning,” he says and Richard risks a glance at him. Kit is looking at him again, his eyes so fucking dark and intense, and there is something he’s not saying but Richard lets it slide as Kit leans over and plucks the cigarette from Richard’s hands. His fingers graze over Richard’s and he takes a drag before throwing it on the floor and stepping on it. He blows a smoke ring between them and says, “you’ve quit now.” Richard smiles, he can’t help it, because Kit is talking to him again, and smiling at him, and meeting his gaze and Richard hasn’t felt this light all day.
~*~
It’s a miracle Richard doesn’t kill someone that afternoon. Yeah ok so he’s in a good mood cos Kit’s talking to him again, but he has to spend the rest of the afternoon pressed up against Kit with Kit all smiles and hands and smelling like his fucking shampoo and Richard, true to God, hates the fact that he sounds like a fucking girl when it comes to Kit Harington.
“Alone at last,” Kit says, with an arch of his eyebrow and a wiggle of his hips and Richard’s line completely leaves his head.
“Shit,” he mutters and Kit laughs, “sorry,” he calls across the set as Victor calls cut, for the 5th time. Kit steps back, away from him and Richard’s hand twitches, like he wants to pull him back in.
“You know what? Take 15 Richard, have a fag, have a wank, just…” Victor huffs and waves him off set and Richard sighs, presses his fingers to the bridge of his nose.
“So you going to smoke or wank? Cos depending on your answer I might join you,” Kit asks, amused, teasing voice right by Richard’s ear, breath hot against his skin, his hand pressed into Richard’s shoulder to keep him steady as he stands on tiptoes to speak into his ear. Something in Richard just snaps, he sees red, gets to the point of no return, whatever the correct analogy is, but he can’t fucking take this anymore, the constant ache in his stomach, the need to know how Kit tastes, and he wraps his fingers around Kit’s wrist and hauls him outside.
Thank God it’s raining because there is no one else to see Richard pushing Kit up against the wall and killing his surprised “what the fuck Rich” by slamming his lips over Kit’s.
Kit freezes, his hands pressed into Richard’s arms and Richard angles his head, deepens the kiss for a second, licking into Kit’s mouth. Kit’s fingers curl into his uniform and tugs once, but then he’s pushing and Richard takes a step back. Kit stares at him, face expressionless but his eyes are wide and shocked.
Richard grimaces, running a hand through his hair, his lips still tingling as he licks at them.
“Ok so in hindsight that might have not been the best idea…” Richard starts, trailing off and waiting for Kit to stop him, to say it was ok, to say its not ok, to say anything. Kit just blinks at him, “fuck,” Richard takes a step backwards again, half turning away and Kit seems to shake himself, curls his fingers into Richard’s shirt, and just holds him at arms’ length. His eyes search Richard’s face and they darken when he licks his lips and Richard watches his pink tongue peek out.
A slow smile breaks out over Kit’s mouth.
“About bloody time you did that,” Kit says, then kisses him again, sliding his hands under the EMT outfit, pressing his palms to Richard’s waist and groaning up into the kiss.
Richard could spend the rest of his life like this, die a happy man as long as Kit’s tongue keeps doing that thing that’s making Richard’s knees go weak but something occurs to him and he wrenches his mouth away from Kit’s, presses their foreheads together.
“Wait,” Richard mutters and Kit groans again, tries to catch his mouth again, “you’ve been waiting for me to do that?” He asks and Kit nods, his fingers playing with the buttons on Richard’s shirt. “Why the fuck didn’t you say anything?” Kit shrugs, winds his fingers into Richard’s hair and pulls him close.
“Didn’t know you wanted it,” he murmurs, his lips making their way across Richard’s jaw. Kit nips at him, his teeth catching on Richard’s stubble and Richard groans this time, his hands tightening around Kit’s arms.
“Fuck I want it,” he says and Kit laughs, a low chuckle, his tongue flicking out across the shell of his ear. And, Jesus Christ on a bike, that feels good. “Do that again,” he mutters and Kit pulls his ear lobe between his teeth and bites down gently. Richard shudders, actually shudders and it would be embarrassing if not for the fact that Kit shudders too, pulls his mouth away and blows gently on his ear.
“We’ve got 8 minutes,” he says and Richard winds his hands into Kit’s hair, pulls his head back far enough to press a kiss to his throat. He feels Kit swallow.
“That’s not enough time for what I have planned,” he replies and Kit pulls away and arches an eyebrow at him.
“Oh really?”
“Yeah, it’ll just have to wait till later,” Richard replies and Kit bites his lip to stop himself from smiling and arches upwards, pressing their hips together. Richard nearly bites through his own lip and kisses Kit again, pressing his thigh between Kit’s.
“Later will be now if you keep doing that,” Kit groans and Richard laughs.
“No more waiting for me to make the first move,” he says suddenly sobering and Kit picks up on it, runs his fingers down Richard’s face, the tip of his index finger tracing the curve of Richard’s bottom lip.
“First move’s already made Rich,” he smiles slightly and the serious mood is gone when he slaps at Richard’s face lightly, “but no more ignoring me when I blatantly ask you to stay.”
“You drank enough to down an elephant. You remember that?” Kit laughs and nods, winds his fingers into the hair at the back of Richard’s neck.
“It’s a little blurry but I do remember you turning me down...” he kneads the back of Richard’s neck and there’s a fond smile on his face. “You’re an idiot,” he tugs gently and Richard goes willingly, because, hello, it’s Kit Harington pulling him down for a kiss.
“Yeah I’m starting to figure that out,” Richard mutters against Kit’s mouth and he feels Kit smile, his fingers still tugging at Richard’s hair as Richard slides his mouth along his jawline, sucking gently at the skin.
“2 minutes,” Kit mutters and Richard tears himself away. Kit looks up at him, lips a little swollen and there is a suspect mark on his jaw that he can’t help but press his fingers to. Kit smiles again.
“Come on, let’s get this done,” Richard says, wrapping his hand around Kit’s and tugging him towards the set, “you and me have a date later,” Kit pulls his hand out and flutters his eyelashes, clasping his hands together as he simpers at Richard.
“Ooh a date, you going to woo me, Madden?” He laughs as he drops his hands, walks past Richard.
“You fucking wish, Harington,” he kicks at Kit’s heels and Kit stumbles, flashes a grin at him over his shoulder as he pushes the set door open.
Ok, Richard is man enough to admit that he’s kind of terrified that he’ll fuck this up, that it won’t work out and it will ruin everything but that grin is enough to tell him he’s going to try his fucking hardest to make sure it does work.
Because it’s Kit Harington, and he’s kind of fucking worth it.