Entourage/Gossip Girl FF: Backroom [Eric Murphy/Chuck Bass; NC-17]
Reposting from oxoniensis's Porn Battle VII.
Title: Backroom
Fandom: Entourage/Gossip Girl
Pairing: Eric Murphy/Chuck Bass
Rating: NC-17
Length: 770 words
Disclaimer: Entourage belongs to Doug Ellin and HBO; Gossip Girl belongs to Josh Schwartz and the CW.
Spoilers: Entourage to 5.12, Gossip Girl hints at a spoiler for the current series.
Summary: Eric goes location scouting in Victrola and finds Chuck instead. Prompt was 'power corrupts', originally here.
If anyone asks, this is location scouting. Victrola is dark, and the air is thick with alcohol and sex. Vince and the guys are making nice with a group of NYU girls, out for the evening and luckier than they would have dreamed of getting. Eric has half his attention on them, and half on the phone conversation. He has to raise his voice. “Tell Joel we want input on international distribution. Yes, I’m fucking serious! And veto on the girl, and the posters, and I want an exec producer credit and all that comes with it.” He hangs up.
A hand rests on his arm and squeezes. “Your friend is causing something of a stir.”
“Yeah? He does that. What do you care?”
Eric turns in time to see the smirk: cool arrogance on features too young to properly support it. The kid says, “Well, it’s my club he’s invaded, and my patrons he has all twisted up.”
“Your club? Or your Dad’s?”
His expression turns, resting at hurt for just a second before hitting angry. “Mine,” he bites.
“Okay then,” Eric answers easily. “We’re looking at movie locations, what do you think?”
The kid holds out his hand. “Chuck Bass.”
“Eric Murphy.”
Chuck snaps his fingers, and drinks appear. Eric walks, and the crowds move out of his way. Chuck slides into a table in the corner, and the chairs either side of him clear. They drink, and talk, and sometimes their gazes slide across the room, and neither of them asks who the other is watching.
Chuck says, “Would you like to see the back?” He slides the bouncer some notes with practiced ease, and leads Eric out.
“You have to tip your employees for access?”
“I pay for a little discretion. It’s worth the price.”
The music from the club spills through, muted. Chuck leans against the wall, reaches out his hand, and locks the door.
If anyone asks, Eric isn’t doing this. He’s not like every other asshole in Hollywood, ready to fuck the first good-looking teenager willing to put out a little. He’s never been that guy. He pushes Chuck against the wall, hands sliding on his fly, but remembers to ask “You sure about this?”
Chuck bites his neck in response. They’re both too good at this. Eric slips Chuck’s designer slacks down his hips; Chuck unbuttons Eric’s pants with one hand and glides the other under his shirt. Chuck has soft hands - he’s never worked a day in his life. But then Eric’s hands wield nothing more deadly than a BlackBerry nowadays. He wraps his hand around Chuck’s cock, thumbing the head and unable to stop himself smiling at the way the kid gasps.
They’re already too far gone to stop when Eric starts to repent. He doesn’t fuck teenagers. Not even ones who know what they’re doing, who respond too eagerly to his hasty ministrations. Eric’s still a young guy, supposed to be in his fucking sexual prime. Not like Vince, maybe, who’s in everyone’s sexual prime, but still. It’s still not like this anymore. He’s remembers wanting it like this, like every orgasm was the first and last, leaving marks even when you tried to slow down. Alone in your room, back to back with your best friend, first fumbling contact with a girl. Just wanting, no matter how many times you’d done it already.
Chuck’s eyes close - “Fuck!” - and he comes all over Eric’s hand. It’s still flattering.
Eric takes a little longer, but Chuck’s hand is slick now, and he’s lost some of the urgency. He puts his mouth on Eric’s, tasting of smoke and alcohol. He murmurs, conversationally, “My step-brother’s called Eric too. But I’ve grown out of corrupting the innocent. Corrupting fellow sinners is just less hard work.”
Eric opens his mouth to say something cutting, but Chuck’s fingers slide back, and push him over the edge.
After, Eric pulls the red handkerchief from Chuck’s top pocket. Heavy rich fabric, and Eric uses it to wipe away their mingled come. Chuck takes it back with a raised eyebrow. “I could say my housekeeping will be shocked by this, but-” He shrugs.
Eric unlocks the door, and motions ahead of him for Chuck to walk out. He rests his hand on Chuck’s shoulder, following his line of sight. He whispers, “Word of advice. Stop falling for straight guys and unavailable women. Life gets a whole lot easier that way.” Eric trails his hand down Chuck’s side and slips him a card the same way Chuck had slipped the bouncer money. “I’ll call about the movie.”
FIN
Title: Backroom
Fandom: Entourage/Gossip Girl
Pairing: Eric Murphy/Chuck Bass
Rating: NC-17
Length: 770 words
Disclaimer: Entourage belongs to Doug Ellin and HBO; Gossip Girl belongs to Josh Schwartz and the CW.
Spoilers: Entourage to 5.12, Gossip Girl hints at a spoiler for the current series.
Summary: Eric goes location scouting in Victrola and finds Chuck instead. Prompt was 'power corrupts', originally here.
If anyone asks, this is location scouting. Victrola is dark, and the air is thick with alcohol and sex. Vince and the guys are making nice with a group of NYU girls, out for the evening and luckier than they would have dreamed of getting. Eric has half his attention on them, and half on the phone conversation. He has to raise his voice. “Tell Joel we want input on international distribution. Yes, I’m fucking serious! And veto on the girl, and the posters, and I want an exec producer credit and all that comes with it.” He hangs up.
A hand rests on his arm and squeezes. “Your friend is causing something of a stir.”
“Yeah? He does that. What do you care?”
Eric turns in time to see the smirk: cool arrogance on features too young to properly support it. The kid says, “Well, it’s my club he’s invaded, and my patrons he has all twisted up.”
“Your club? Or your Dad’s?”
His expression turns, resting at hurt for just a second before hitting angry. “Mine,” he bites.
“Okay then,” Eric answers easily. “We’re looking at movie locations, what do you think?”
The kid holds out his hand. “Chuck Bass.”
“Eric Murphy.”
Chuck snaps his fingers, and drinks appear. Eric walks, and the crowds move out of his way. Chuck slides into a table in the corner, and the chairs either side of him clear. They drink, and talk, and sometimes their gazes slide across the room, and neither of them asks who the other is watching.
Chuck says, “Would you like to see the back?” He slides the bouncer some notes with practiced ease, and leads Eric out.
“You have to tip your employees for access?”
“I pay for a little discretion. It’s worth the price.”
The music from the club spills through, muted. Chuck leans against the wall, reaches out his hand, and locks the door.
If anyone asks, Eric isn’t doing this. He’s not like every other asshole in Hollywood, ready to fuck the first good-looking teenager willing to put out a little. He’s never been that guy. He pushes Chuck against the wall, hands sliding on his fly, but remembers to ask “You sure about this?”
Chuck bites his neck in response. They’re both too good at this. Eric slips Chuck’s designer slacks down his hips; Chuck unbuttons Eric’s pants with one hand and glides the other under his shirt. Chuck has soft hands - he’s never worked a day in his life. But then Eric’s hands wield nothing more deadly than a BlackBerry nowadays. He wraps his hand around Chuck’s cock, thumbing the head and unable to stop himself smiling at the way the kid gasps.
They’re already too far gone to stop when Eric starts to repent. He doesn’t fuck teenagers. Not even ones who know what they’re doing, who respond too eagerly to his hasty ministrations. Eric’s still a young guy, supposed to be in his fucking sexual prime. Not like Vince, maybe, who’s in everyone’s sexual prime, but still. It’s still not like this anymore. He’s remembers wanting it like this, like every orgasm was the first and last, leaving marks even when you tried to slow down. Alone in your room, back to back with your best friend, first fumbling contact with a girl. Just wanting, no matter how many times you’d done it already.
Chuck’s eyes close - “Fuck!” - and he comes all over Eric’s hand. It’s still flattering.
Eric takes a little longer, but Chuck’s hand is slick now, and he’s lost some of the urgency. He puts his mouth on Eric’s, tasting of smoke and alcohol. He murmurs, conversationally, “My step-brother’s called Eric too. But I’ve grown out of corrupting the innocent. Corrupting fellow sinners is just less hard work.”
Eric opens his mouth to say something cutting, but Chuck’s fingers slide back, and push him over the edge.
After, Eric pulls the red handkerchief from Chuck’s top pocket. Heavy rich fabric, and Eric uses it to wipe away their mingled come. Chuck takes it back with a raised eyebrow. “I could say my housekeeping will be shocked by this, but-” He shrugs.
Eric unlocks the door, and motions ahead of him for Chuck to walk out. He rests his hand on Chuck’s shoulder, following his line of sight. He whispers, “Word of advice. Stop falling for straight guys and unavailable women. Life gets a whole lot easier that way.” Eric trails his hand down Chuck’s side and slips him a card the same way Chuck had slipped the bouncer money. “I’ll call about the movie.”
FIN