[MOVIE STAR AU]

[homosexuals]

MODERN CINEMA AU

hollywood is a place where they'll pay you a thousand dollars for a kiss and fifty cents for your soul...

Comments

[homosexuals]

[that's the funny thing - hawk hasn't been this happy or even hopeful in a long time either. sure, there's been fleeting moments that have bolstered him like promising numbers for the studio and earning smith's admiration. but everything has felt fleeting - as fickle as the public's attention span and just another reminder that he's got to keep working harder, faster in case his heart gives out and he never gets to do the one thing that will cement him as a fixture in hollywood in his own right. someone who made it better. having embry at his side feels like finding a diamond in the rough, overlooked in his own right until hawk plucked him up, gave him a good polish and reminded him that it doesn't matter what happened in the past - all that matters is that he keep shining and he'll earn that adoration and get back up on that pedestal.

but embry feels like something one-of-a-kind, somehow an oxymoron for the way he can play sultry bad boy in the papers and come into his office with a wounded innocence that begs for protection. the worst part about it is he's got hawk wrapped around his finger and doesn't even know it - because hawk would put himself on the line to make sure embry gets to be the star he deserves. to see him on top of the world, to chase away whatever darkness eats at him from the inside out and draws him into the recklessness he's fallen into before. but he hasn't done any of that lately, which has to count for something. has to mean he's finally coming around into his own, that there's a contentment here he's willing to keep chasing. hawk has never been one to fall for a simple pretty face - because honestly, there's plenty of those in the city of angeles that are a dime dozen. but somehow, in the slow stupor that's working over him as he watches embry cup at his shoulders and murmur into his ear in a way that makes a shudder run down his spine in a liquid ripple of want - he realizes he's gone and done it anyway.

there's little he can do to deter much of anything right now, nodding along in an agreeable state to whatever embry wants, because embry should get anything he asks for when he's standing there looking like sin in heels. so hawk lets himself be tugged towards the food, idly picking up a ladyfinger that's meant to resemble and actual finger before embry sticks out his tongue in a way that sends his pulse skyrocketing. fuck. he reaches for it before he can think any better, stupidly getting a brief feel of warm wetness on his fingertips.]

Oh, very impressive Mr. Moore.

[it comes out in lazy drag, complete with a half-lidded smirk as he takes the water gratefully and sucks it down with the same enthusiasm he'd taken the shot. his heart feels like it might beat out of his chest and take its place among the table of crude and creepy snacks, free for embry to pick and pry at his leisure since it already rests in his delicate hands. yeah he needs to fucking sit down and try to get his shit together - this isn't like him at all. he should get out of here, maybe go to smith's office or one of the unoccupied rooms upstairs to try and smoke the cigar and get out of doge.

that doesn't mean he has to leave embry to do it. but he's already being lead away somewhere, a little quieter, a little darker, less bodies colliding and making him sweat. he sinks down into the chair, head lolling back and eyes slipping closed for a minute in brief relief until embry makes him meet his gaze again, fingers light and practically electric against his jaw. have his lips always looked so goddamn kissable?]

Forget about the drinks for a second. C'mere. Sit down.

[there's only once place to do that without armrests, even if his brain hasn't fully processed the repercussions of that with a tap to one thigh.]

[hymen]

[ does he really mean — embry's heart leaps somewhere in his throat, threatening to choke him, but hawk's definitely looking at him with expectation in his liquid eyes, and embry feels his pupils dilate, feels every brush of tight leather and lace rubbing against his heated skin, and — fuck, he just wants hawk to touch him so badly. he'd kill for it, like he's starving, like he's never, ever been touched before. it has to be the drugs making him crazy right now, but he has the feeling that it's mostly just his desire for hawk driving him up the wall, reaching a point that can't be ignored for much longer. he's so goddamn horny. ]

Mr. Fuller —

[ it comes out in a whispered rush, teetering against his good sense. he should walk away. his cock has grown half-hard, and there's no way to hide it in his skimpy clothes and especially not if he actually sits down, but there's something commanding in the way hawk says it, in the way he looks at him, and embry suddenly eases forward, placing a hand on hawk's shoulder to balance himself. hawk looks devastatingly sexy, loose-limbed and just on the right side of disheveled. embry sinks down into his lap, little stitches of breath escaping his parted lips.

he looks closely at hawk's eyes, reaching up slowly to brush a gentle hand through tiny bits of his hair, to trace the dark outline of his brows. he tries not to move his hips at all, to avoid friction between his cock and hawk's thigh even if it's painful to be still. in his peripheral he can see other pairs of people gyrating against each other, mouths and hands and hips moving, snatches of sighs and soft groans filtering in the lulls of music. embry has been heedless with sex for a long time, so to refrain now feels like the most difficult thing in the world, like being edged against his will. he feels terribly exposed, like one wrong move will shake out all his secrets — the ones from his past and the ones he's presently keeping from hawk, a culmination of all the things that make him intensely undesirable. ]

Mr. Fuller. [ he's close now, close enough to catch hawk's vetiver scent, close enough that he barely has to speak above a whisper. he's never been inside hawk's home, but he's exhausted all his snooping options in his office, now that the cameras are there. ] Will you take me back home with you?

[homosexuals]

[when's the last time hawk wanted something? not something - someone - this goddamn bad? it's not just the simple kind of want that can be forgotten and tucked away under the name of professionalism either - it's the kind that aches deep enough that sometimes hawk thinks he might be having another one of his episodes the way it squeezes in his chest and makes his limbs tremble in restraint. it's wrong to think of embry like that, like he's the perfect imitation of all the other sleazy directors and executives who think hollywood is just their playground of easy pickings. but sometimes he's not so sure embry sees it that way - not when he seems to find every spare moment to put himself in hawk's presence. ever since he'd stopped seeing greer the naps in his office and late nights to steal bits and pieces of hawk's dinner when he used to spend that time alone working himself to the bone has experienced a significant uptick.

sometimes the tension is unbearable, just like the way light of the waning la skyline looks across the curve of embry's immaculate profile or the tumble of his curls begs to be touched.

like right now - the way he settles into hawk's lap with a careful easy, hand warm against his shoulder and weight somehow perfect against his thigh. if hawk weren't so fucking drunk he might notice the way embry's pupils are blown too wide, how all of this should feel wrong. he might be more cognizant of what's going on around him instead of letting it all fade to a dull roar and a blur of motion that begins and ends with embry as the only constant, grounding him with his delectable figure in reaching distance. hawk slides an arm around the back of him, fingers lightly resting against his waist to steady him so he doesn't fall back. and then, stupidly, he lets his other hand skim against his knee, brushing against the tease of skin under fishnet as he lets his thumb hook against the back of one absently.

mr. fuller, he says, so sweetly it's almost too much to bear. there's something palpable in his gaze, and up this close hawk can feel the wash of his soft exhales like it's the only air he's meant to breathe in turn. everything feels like it's moving in slow motion and too fast all at once, and he can't believe he's this drunk after downing that glass. what the hell is going on? is what the last shred of decency and self-preservation in his brain tries to nudge him with.

what is he supposed to say to embry's inquiry anyway? he wants to say yes with ever fiber of his being. and right now, he's having a hard time denying himself under such pleasurable circumstances. embry could ask him to empty his wallet, his bank account - to get on bended knee and declare his devotion right now, and hawk doesn't think he'd have the wherewithal to say no.]

We might give these fine folks the wrong idea, you know?

[as if any of them are fine, and as if hawk has even lifted his head away from the sultry creature in his lap to notice any of them.]

I don't want to say no to you.

[he shakes his head as if trying to clear it, but the cat's already outta the bag. hawk's head slumps forward, nudging against embry's chest with a heavy exhale while he can barely keep it upright for a moment. the silk fabric is soft against his cheek, even more frustrating temptation.]

A nightcap and a smoke. C'n get you a car after.

[hymen]

[ his heart races as hawk nestles against his chest, his hands cradling his strong jaw as if he's holding something precious. hawk's pulse jumps and flutters beneath his fingers while embry soothes his hands through his hair, tracing his brows, his cheekbones, and finally, the bow of his lips, tilting his face up towards his. hawk is so painfully handsome in the way of old hollywood glamour, like he should be on black and white movie posters instead of the name left off of each one. embry's thumb touches the corner of his eye, stroking the lines that betray his years in the industry while the hot flame of jealousy licks at him, that there might have been a dozen others before him to catch hawk's gaze, dozens and dozens of stars that have already felt his mouth or his body or his cock. ]

A nightcap and a smoke.

[ embry smiles, agreeable to that part, not so much to getting kicked out after, but there's room to negotiate once he's there. all he feels right now are the lines of hawk's body, hawk's thumb hooked in his fishnets, and he wishes he'd just tear a hole in them, that he'd start unlacing his corset right here and now, and there's no fucking way hawk doesn't feel how hard embry is, his breath tightly measured as his forehead comes to rest against hawk's. ]

I've been thinking about this. [ their noses brush as embry squirms in his lap, closer and closer and closer. ] You. I think about you all the time. I think about —

[ he swallows, his breath damp and hot against hawk's cheek as he nuzzles against him, his mouth gravitating toward hawk's lips. he thinks his heart might tumble right out of his chest with how badly he aches for him.

he finishes in a whisper — ] Kissing you. If you'd want me to. If you'd like it.

[ he pauses for a fraction of a moment, waiting for hawk to shove him away, for him to tell him to stop, that he's read all of this wrong, but — it doesn't come fast enough, so embry crushes their mouths together in a desperate, hurried motion, pressing hawk into the back of the chair with the force of his desire. he tastes better than liquor, better than any pill he's popped, tonguing into hawk's mouth like he's the only person in the room. ]

[homosexuals]

[the moment he feels the heaviness underneath leather and silk is what drives his eyes to flutter open in realization - maybe not quite shock, because this thing between them has been utterly fucking electric for months now - but understanding that embry is hard, and even if he's gotten to a point where he's practically deliberately obtuse, embry seems to want this. badly. as badly as him? well, they'll have to figure that out.

except - no. no, this is the point where he should carefully lift embry off his lap and settle him down on gazelle-long legs, politely extricating himself and telling him its been fun, but he's got a headache and a whole stack of paperwork to get to tomorrow morning. he'll catch him in his office, during working hours, not perched pretty like the bunny to his high with big blue eyes and practically begging hawk to take the thing he's been steadfast in ignoring this long. this whole thing has been a walking red flag, a siren blaring at him to turn back now before he crosses the line he can't come back from. but that's because he'd expected embry to be like everyone else walking through his door: wanting something from him and measuring up how to best get it, looking past the man that is hawkins fuller and instead just needing the prestige. it's ironic then that embry wants the one thing he doesn't fucking need hawk's help with, and now? now he just wants hawk.

it's all wrong. for someone so wrapped up in the intricacies of a hollywood lot, hawk never tires of the way his daydreams easily fall into what could easily be playing off a silver screen. he'd pictured bending down one day, tipping embry's chin up from where he was splayed at his knees and chatting about things that wouldn't matter months from now - the movie shoots for the day, his best angles (as if the answer isn't all of them), asking hawk why he liked one steakhouse over another, prying for his seeming preferences in the personal. one day hawk thought about shutting him up with his lips, hoisting him up onto his desk and letting the tension bubble over until they were both sweaty and panting and definitely needed to replace a few copies of paperwork on top of solid oak.

it's not supposed to be with embry half naked in his lap, hawk feeling strung out beyond belief, surrounded by colleagues and opportunists who would sell them short in a heartbeat.

but it is, and who is he to deny this exquisite creature? if you'd want me to, if you'd like it - christ, who fucking wouldn't, he almost says - moments before he meets embry in the middle and leans in at the same time embry does. it makes the impact of their kiss one of hunger, hawk nipping at his lips before slipping his tongue along embry's like he might lick the taste of whatever the hell that was they'd drank out of his mouth. the hand at his waist lowers, gripping the meat of his ass and upper thigh to pull him in closer and shift the way he's seated closer to something truly face to face. it's a miracle he doesn't fucking dry hump him right here - particularly with the way embry too will now get the reciprocation of something hard burgeoning beneath his slacks. his fingers flex against the supple flesh, refusing to pull away from something less gentlemanly than his waist while his other hand shifts up to cup at the back of his neck and deepen it.

the lipstick is the last thing on his mind. so is the bevy of photographers waiting outside the estate. but he pulls back anyway after what feels like mere seconds, groaning in dissatisfaction at his own dazed sensibility.]

You got it?

[because yeah, that should answer all of embry's questions. he's been thinking about it too. he wants it. he likes it.]

Shouldn't -

[we shouldn't do this at all, is what he should say.]

Not here.