𝚑𝚊𝚠𝚔𝚒𝚗𝚜 "𝚑𝚊𝚠𝚔" 𝚣. 𝚏𝚞𝚕𝚕𝚎𝚛 (![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png)
homosexuals) wrote2022-03-10 10:11 pm
homosexuals) wrote2022-03-10 10:11 pm[MOVIE STAR AU]
MODERN CINEMA AU
hollywood is a place where they'll pay you a thousand dollars for a kiss and fifty cents for your soul...
homosexuals) wrote2022-03-10 10:11 pm
no subject
I'm fine.
[it's the default to everything: his mother's pestering when she gets onto the subject of his condition over the phone, smith when he's cavalier in suggesting hawk take some time off instead of driving himself insane over this mole, tim when he offers to take a stack of paperwork off his desk because it's starting to look cluttered. of course he's fucking exhausted. of course he should be in the office right now, poring over files and security footage and trying to solve this and put a guaranteed end to maybe half his stress. instead he lets his eyes flutter shut for a few moments, not objecting to the way embry is overly familiar in his touch because it feels too damn good, and boundaries have been something dodgy between them ever since he started napping on his couch. actually - fuck - it feels really good. there's a surprised hum, slipping into a groan of appreciation that he hopes won't be heard over the din of chatter and clinking glasses.]
Shit. You've got another career prospect lined up - that's nice. Real nice. [his better sense kicks in, eyes fluttering open as he clears his throat and sits up a little straighter.] Nice of you to worry about me, I mean, but I'm fine.
[strange, the way his limbs suddenly feeling loose and pliant from a mixture of kneading fingertips and the open collar. oddly he feels...some sort of combination of calm and sluggish settling in. maybe he really is more tired, and embry's apt observation that he's barely sleeping is dead on. except he's much more concerned with curve of his brow, the earnest way he admits to something that sounds close to jealousy or nervousness at being potentially replaced. it seems like a goddamn crime to let embry continue under that assumption, and one of hawk's arms slides around his waist without even thinking as he drags him slightly closer on the armrest so he can lean up and look him dead in the eye.]
That's all they are. Rumours, you got that?
[any of the common sense he has seems to have receded somewhere else - on the outskirts of his brain as he doesn't even look around to see who's watching, what they must think of him having a scantily clad movie star practically in his lap. but hawk's eyes go half-lidded, lips pulling in a lazy smirk.]
Don't tell anyone - but you're my favorite. Top secret, though, so take it to your grave.
[before he can stop himself, somehow encouraged by the continued rub of nimble fingers, hawk lets one of his velvet monogrammed loafers kick under the sharp stiletto of one of embry's heels, lifting it upward to stretch out both their legs together so he can look at it from a better angle. the slash of red he can see underneath patent letter makes his blood run hot, suddenly curious how those might look tipped up if embry ended up on his knees - jesus fucking christ. stop it, hawk. fuck's sake.]
If I didn't know any better I'd say you'll be the one needing magic hands at the end of the night. These look - killer.
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Your favorite? You mean it? [ it's a balm to all of his other rejections that have worn him down and left doubt festering beneath his skin. he mimes locking his lips and throwing away the key, then laughs as he throws a glance backwards at their tangled feet, hawk's loafers and his ridiculous louboutins together like a badly scripted man and wife. ] You could take me wherever you go later, so you'll have the chance to look after my feet. You could take me with you for the rest of your life.
[ his voice softens at the end, and that's — fuck, that's way too much, his eyes lowering and his heartbeat skipping as he tries to rein his emotions back to a manageable trot. his hands slip down hawk's chest, adjusting his tie, and then he reaches for his drink and downs the rest. ]
Don't think I forgot about our dance. Come on.
[ he smiles again, slipping out of his lap and pulling hawk to his feet. the world tilts a little in that pleasant way it does when his brain is firing in haphazard directions, when the lights are glitzy and bright, when he's hyper-aware of every touch and sensation beneath his fingertips and against his skin. smith's big house is a box of light and this room is the center, right where hawk is, his hands warm where their fingers curl together, embry steadying him with practiced ease as he walks him backwards into the sea of happily dancing bodies.
he doesn't give hawk a chance to protest, because embry wants this too badly, their connection sizzling like a fiery gift thrown into his lap. no one pays them any attention, or maybe it's that embry doesn't give a shit about anyone else in the room but hawk, throwing his arms over his shoulders, his high cheekbones flushed with warmth and his stained mouth curving with laughter. their bodies press together, embry's hips swaying to the tacky halloween music swirling through the air. ]
I'm glad you came. [ it's even louder here, and this time his mouth brushes hawk's cheek on the way to his ear, leaving a lipstick stain. he thumbs at it softly, stroking the crescent of his cheek. ] There's no one else I want to dance with.
no subject
god, it's been awhile. maybe he just - needs to get laid. far far away from la and hollywood and maybe even outside of california altogether. he can take a long weekend and get smith off his back, let the new security cameras he's installed do their work...but that means letting embry think he's running, or he's somehow developed a new favorite. and well, that just won't stand.]
Have I ever lied to you? I'm not about to start now.
[he must be hearing things. the rest of his life? his mouth opens for a minute, partly in disbelief and the other half too quick before he's had time to facilitate a response. if hawk weren't halfway to more inebriated than he's been in maybe a decade, he wouldn't second guess it. but he covers with another flex of his fingers, a fond squeeze around embry's waist before he reaches up to tweak the faux bunny ear that's bent downward.]
Just like I could hardly be a gentleman and leave you to tend to anything tonight. I'll get you back home in one piece. A little sore, maybe, but I promise.
[before he can protest, embry has him up on his feet, hand-in-hand and suddenly in the middle of a very loud, very crowded dance floor. the moment hits him like a fucking mac truck: heart suddenly rabbiting so hard in his chest it would have him immediately rushing to his office. but the funny offset of it now is that it feels more dreamlike than anything - embry surrounded by bright lights like some ethereal creature in the midst of mediocrity, his thoughts and processing time slowing to a crawl. his head feels like he's been stuck underwater, all the noise a muffled garble except for the crystal clear voice in his ear. everything else barely registers against his person - the jostling, the shoulders shoving and the heat of bodies packed into an admittedly large but not large enough space for this crowd - except embry's lips against his ear, the fingers along the contour of his face.]
Glad I didn't leave.
[christ, is he slurring his words? what was in that drink? it's hard to care when he time seems to zero in on the sway of embry's hips, the long and lean stretch of his figure thrown to wild abandon and even the prowess he seems to manage in those ridiculous heels. hawk's far more subtle, cigar tucked into his breast-pocket for safekeeping as he lets his shoulders do most of the moving under the soft press of embry. it only seems natural for his own hands to gravitate back towards his waist, somehow. there's a lurch where he half stumbles forward, off-balance even as his heartbeat thunders in his ears and his own lips nearly brush the shell of embry's ear too in turn.]
Pretty sure everyone wants to dance with you, though.
no subject
and now he's here, in a starring role, dancing with smith's golden boy who seems only to have eyes for him. it can't possibly be real. every whisper hawk breathes into his ear skates shivers down his spine. his mouth feels dry from everything he's taken tonight, but he thinks that can be solved by kissing hawk, although — he can't. he can't. they're not there yet, even though he wants desperately to be. he wants desperately to just be his, to be his star and his muse forever, to act in every part he finds for him, to make hawk bigger than all the other producers out there, because he's better than all of them. smarter. harder-working. more handsome by a long shot. he makes embry forget all the troubles knocking at his flimsy door.
hawk presses into him, seemingly by drunken accident, but embry smiles and strokes his fingers against the short hairs at the nape of his neck to steady him. or maybe just because he's wanted to do that all night. ]
Only a little sore? [ his voice lowers to a playfully silky purr, words meant only for hawk to hear. ] Do your worst, Mr. Fuller.
[ he keeps his fingers gently at hawk's nape, gliding along his skin and brushing at his pulse which he finds erratically fast, out of the norm for hawk's usual steely demeanor. could it be that embry's finally having a real, honest, longstanding effect on him? they reach the edges of the room, where embry stops at the banquet table to help himself to the spread of elegantly spooky finger foods all doused in red dribbles of sweet sauces to emulate the look of blood. he pops a cherry in his mouth and works his jaw for a moment, then sticks out his tongue to offer hawk the stem wrapped in a bow. ]
You're the only one I want to dance with. [ hawk looks hot around the collar, a sheen of sweat glistening at his temples, so embry offers him one of the little flutes of sparkling water nearby. ] Drink this. Do you want to go sit down?
[ he's already pulling him towards the next room, pushing him into the closest empty seat, a comfortably plush, armless chair. embry looks around for another to drag close, but they're all annoyingly taken — then he does a double take when he realizes how many people are making out in this room, straddling the other guests and grinding straight into their laps. his cock reacts instantly, blood rushing to his groin while his face heats up, lightheaded from the visceral changes his body insists on putting him through. ]
Hey. [ maybe hawk won't notice a thing about their surroundings. gently, he tips his fingers to hawk's jaw, lifting his chin. ] Think I need another drink. You want one?
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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.]
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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?
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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.
no subject
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. ]
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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.