Author: exposeyou
Pairing: Ewan McGregor/Jonny Lee Miller, Jude Law/Ewan McGregor
Rating: NC - 17
Summary: How Ewan met Jonny, and the realisation of a dirty fantasy. In an alleyway. With leather trousers.
Notes: This is a prologue to Bow Ties & Black Eyes, the fic that is currently nameless, and White Lies & Weddings although you don't need to have read any of them to enjoy this. If you want to, they are at my LJ (also exposeyou) and will soon be uploaded here.
Disclaimer: Never happened, no profit made, no harm intended.
Jonny isn’t actually the first man that Ewan has slept with, but really, he’s the first one that counts. Sure, he’s had a couple of fumbles, teenage ‘exploration’, and the odd one night stand since coming to London, but Jonny is really the only man he’s liked as a person – and before they fucked, too.
+++
The first time he remembers seeing Jonny Lee Miller was as he stumbled out of a flat in Camden at six in the morning. As Ewan was making good his escape from the bed of last night’s conquest, Jonny was coming home. Their hair was in similar states of just-been-fucked disarray, but as they did an awkward little dance, weaving around each other in the hallway, Ewan couldn’t help but think he was the boyfriend of whoever the hell he just screwed. In a flustered attempt to avoid getting punched in the face, he blurted out something ridiculous about the weather. Quite how he thought that would avoid a “who the hell are you?” confrontation, he didn’t know, but it worked. The tall, platinum-haired stranger instead leaned against the doorframe, squinted, and said “Ewan, right?”
“Yeah, how do you...” he momentarily entertained the crazy idea that this bloke might have seen him in rep, might be a fan.
“You gave me a light at an audition for...some ITV shit? It was months ago now”, he added almost apologetically.
Ewan was equally apologetic – as much as he thought he would remember this rangy, charming guy, he doesn’t have any recollection of him. The name Jonny didn’t help, it’s nowhere near as distinctive as his own. Then Jonny, as it was, scrubbed a hand through his fringe and made a noise of realisation. “Oooh. It’s the hair. I was natural back then. Had to dye it for a film”. Ewan remembers envying the nonchalant way that he tossed that piece of information out there. As a struggling actor, filming a Hollywood blockbuster was the stuff of dreams. Hell, he was lucky to be living at Jude’s parents’ flat; otherwise a job that meant he could pay the rent would be the stuff of dreams.
It was this veneer of glamour and success that made Jonny stick in the mind the second time around. When he spotted him in a bar in Primrose Hill a few weeks later, he was sure to say hello, and put extra emphasis on his name, flush with the triumph of having remembered it. Jonny bought him a pint and told him he’d got his own place now, with the money from Hackers, just down the road. Would he maybe like to come to his flat-warming? He didn’t know many people around here, but it was the place to be, wasn’t it? Full of creative types.
Ewan went to the party, with Jude. There was an awkward moment when they arrived, both reacting to the look on Jonny’s face with assurances that they weren’t dating that only managed to make it seem as if they were lying.
++++
Four hours later, Jonny kisses him up against the kitchen counter. Ewan stumbles back with the force of it, grabs at the worktop, plunges his hand into a trifle. They laugh at the absurdity of it. Why the fuck does Jonny have a trifle just sat there? Why did Ewan’s hand have to find it? They laugh about it, Ewan licks the cream and jam off of his fingers, and they return to the party.
They wind up being good mates – drinking in the same pub, sharing takeaways – but they don’t touch each other like that again until Trainspotting.
+++
When Ewan finally fucks Jonny, it’s the culmination of a month of outrageous flirting. He knows it’s a stupid idea, to fuck his co-star, but Jonny is so eager to thank him for talking Danny into giving him the part Ewan is actually starting to feel rude refusing...He did try to ignore the obvious innuendo, the suggestive smirks, and the overt touches, but at the end of the day, he’s only human. As two gay men in the same business living five miles apart, he figures it was only a matter of time, really. So he stops resisting temptation, as unprofessional as it is, and soon they have a nice, chilled- out arrangement going on. They do their job, cool as ice on set, then as soon as they’re both off-duty, it’s a matter of minutes before they’re in a trailer and Jonny’s hand is working its way into his jeans.
Its bloody perfect, Ewan thinks. Away from home, Jonny is his Jude. A mate that he really clicks with, can have a good time with, and, as an added bonus, a really good fuck. And he really is good. He’s eager and responsive and shudders and moans under Ewan’s hands and mouth like a porn star. He knows how to make a man feel valued, that’s for sure. And when he returns the favour, eyelashes fluttering and tongue working the head of his cock, he’s bloody brilliant. Ewan’s worried to find himself a bit addicted to this, to frantic, furtive fucking every time there’s a lull in filming, but why should he turn down a good time?
+++
Soon Ewan realises just how adventurous Jonny is. The man amazes him; he seems to be a connoisseur of sex. He’s been everywhere and tried everything, which explains his obvious talent. He asks Ewan to tie him up, they mess about with leather and feathers and knives and candlewax, and pretty soon he’s hooked. Just as he thinks they’re losing steam and the fling has run its course, Jonny will pull something new out of the bag to keep his interest going. When shooting wraps and they get back home to London, he doesn’t even bother going out on the scene to pick up casual fucks. Jonny’s a sure thing. A sure thing with handcuffs.
+++
Shivering on the dark street corner, Jonny wonders why the fuck he agreed to this. Sure, it seemed like a hot idea at the time, this rent boy fantasy, but now, stood by the carefully selected alley in skin-tight leather trousers and a tank top so flimsy he’s sure his nipples are visible through the thin cotton, he feels ridiculously self-conscious. He crosses his arms over his chest and leans back against the wall. Where the fuck is Ewan? He knows that the entire point is that he looks like a prostitute, but the reality is pretty uncomfortable. What if someone sees him? This isn’t Notting Hill, this is an appropriately rough part of town, and he is practically asking to be beaten up for being a pouf. This is supposed to be fun, turning him on, not making him feel sick. He has goosebumps on his arms, bare in the night, and sweat on the back of his neck. He watches a pair of teenagers walk past on the other side of the road nervously. Stuff it. He’s going to have a smoke, and if Ewan hasn’t showed by the time he’s done, he’s leaving. It takes him a couple of minutes to fish his cigarettes out of the practically painted-on trousers, which pisses him off even more, so he’s grateful when he finally gets one alight, closing his eyes as he enjoys that first drag. The nicotine soothes his nerves. They snap back when a low voice rumbles near his ear.
“Got a light, mate?”
Ewan. Somehow he had sneaked up whilst he was distracted. Jonny can’t hold back a relieved grin, then he remembers what they’re doing here and gets into character. He is an actor, after all.
“Sure I can’t offer you something else?” Now it’s Ewan’s turn to grin. “Well...that depends on how much you charge”.
He plays the hard-bitten whore, stating his terms, and they haggle for a few minutes before Ewan caves, too desperate to touch him to argue any more. Jonny deliberately counts the wad of notes slowly to drag out his frustration – a petty revenge for making him wait for him. Satisfied with the “payment”, he licks his lips and leads Ewan into the alleyway. He can feel his eyes burning into his back and knows now that this is going to be worth it.
Ewan doesn’t kiss him; he bites his lips hard enough to bruise instead. He twists his hand through Jonny’s hair, looking incandescent in the dark, forces him to his knees, fucks his throat. He’s in the role, playing cruel like he was born to do it, but it’s worth it a few minutes lately, when he gives up on teasing and finally fucks Jonny.
His face pressed up against the brick, Ewan deep in his arse, hissing in his ear “you little bitch, you slut, you whore.” Jonny doesn’t even care that he feels cold and dirty, that voice sends him right over the edge.
It isn't love, but it feels good.