FIC: It's True About the Noses (Lotrips, Sean B/David W, NC-17)

[telesilla.livejournal.com]

Title: It's True About the Noses
Author: helens78 and telesilla
Rating: NC-17
Fandom/Pairing: Lortrips, David W/ Sean B.
Archive: ask first please.
Summary: Sean's being a jerk and David knows why and thinks that what Sean really needs is a little distraction.
Disclaimer/Warnings: Not RL; didn't happen. If you think this has anything to do with the real actors involved, then you need to put down the crack pipe.



Sean's depressed. Or he's just a moody bastard. Or someone just killed his dog. One way or the other, the look on his face isn't a good one, and he's not even making an effort to look happy for the sake of the cast and crew around him. It's fairly obvious that he's not happy about being back in New Zealand, and even though the scene's a good one and he's glad to be taking part in it -- once you're dead, you're dead, after all, so a flashback is unexpected and welcome -- he's been growling at people all day long.

After the tenth exasperated yell of "cut" from PJ, David's had enough. So has John, who leans in and mutters. "I thought you were supposed to be the one I don't like."

"Wanker," David replies, trying not to snicker. John's actually a funny guy and he's damn good too, he and David had been talking about motivation and character as well as Australian rules football and they had a rapport going. And here was Bean fucking that up.

This scene is bloody important and Bean's just coming in here and pissing everyone off, David thinks as PJ gives Bean a long look and then mildly suggests everyone break for lunch a little early. All right, time to have a talk with the man.

Waiting until Bean is sitting outside the big warehouse that serves as a studio, David walks up to him. "Mind telling me what crawled up your ass and died?" he says bluntly. It's not easy because the closer he gets to the man the more aware he is of Bean's sheer presence. Do not think with your cock, David.

Sean grunts and looks up at David, scowling before he realizes what he's doing. Stop that. David's not your problem here. He shakes his head, the scowl dissipating. "It was a long fucking flight out," he says, hoping that covers him. "Still jetlagged, still recovering from thirty hours on a plane. Am I making things so hard for everyone, then?"

"You're not making it easy," David says bluntly. "I think everyone understands the reason but...." He sighs. "Well that was tactful of me, sorry." He's not though. Everyone is tiptoeing around Sean and David thinks that's a little insulting to Sean not to mention that it's encouraging what David sees as unprofessional behavior.

Sean rolls his eyes, then shakes his head. "No," he murmurs. "No, you're right." He stands up with a clang of plate mail and tilts his head back, closing his eyes for a moment. "All right. Make you a deal. I get through the rest of the day without growling at anyone--" Green eyes fix on David's, and the glare on Sean's face is icy. "And you never fucking bring him up again."

Oh so it's like that is it? "OK," David says aloud. "But I get to add one more condition then. Come have a pint or two with me after?"

The look on Sean's face is so stunned it actually breaks the ice somewhat, and Sean shakes his head, laughing. "Yeah," he says. "Remember today, little brother. Today... you talked a bitter man out of his foul mood. Come on."

Sean's steps seem at least a little lighter as he gets back to his mark and starts the next take, and the affection Boromir feels for Faramir seems a great deal less forced. It's a better take, and the people around both men breathe quiet sighs of relief. Some of the people here remember Sean, and they don't remember him being such an asshole.

Now that's more like it, David thinks. He'd watched every scrap of footage of Sean as Boromir that he could get his hands on; wanting to give himself as much to go on as he could. And now Sean was back in character again. And yeah ... life was good. It'd be better if I could get him to shag me of course.

"Whatever you said," John says at one point during a break, "did the trick. Buy you a pint after work?"

"Can't; I'm meeting up with Sean."

John shoots David a shrewd glance, looking very much like Denethor for a minute. "Be careful there; he's a damned unhappy person."

"I can take care of myself, Dad," David teases and then the AD is calling them back to their places and the cameras are rolling.

It's very odd watching David talk to John; Sean's not jealous of the rapport they seem to have going, of course, but it's such a reversal of what's happening in the script that he can't help wondering if he's been more of a wanker than he realized.

On the other hand, if I am, they can always watch the end of Fellowship and watch me get killed again...

Sean's exhaustion when he gives the line about Denethor's inability to give the brothers one moment's peace is not forced. Sean doesn't normally consider himself a Method actor, but it's not hard channeling the sensation of frustration and irritation that accompanies that line. It'll be good getting out of here for the night.

"See you in the car park after wardrobe," David says as he heads for his trailer.

He's quick and is leaning against his Range Rover when Sean strides across the car park looking like a man headed to his own execution rather than a casual beer with a co-worker. "If you'd rather not," David offers when Sean reaches him. He has to fight back offering a challenge with his words; he doesn't know why he seems to want to get in Bean's face so much. Pants. Let's try for getting in his pants instead.

"We made a deal," Sean says, trying not to grouse. It's late and he wants to go back to his hotel room -- the hotel room he chose over renting his house again, because it was only supposed to be a week of filming and that goddamned house has too many memories.

But a deal's a deal, and maybe Sean's not ready to be alone just yet. He clears his throat. "We made a deal," he repeats. "I'm for keeping it, if you can put up with me for that long."

"Try me," David says blandly, opening the car door.

"So," he says as he starts the car up. "There's a place that I found down the street from my place; just a regular pub. Or there's the Hobbit's pub of the week."

Christ, not the Hobbits. Sean shakes his head. "Down the street from your place sounds good," he says, leaning back into the car's seat, sighing softly. Tired. Why the fuck am I so tired?

"Okay," David says. He drives in silence, hoping his brusque attitude hasn't pissed Sean off too much. Maybe I should try being a little nicer, he thinks and then dismisses the thought. Coddling people isn't my style and I'm not going to do it now just to get laid.

Once at the pub he buys the pints and shoves one across the small table at Bean. "So," he asks, searching around for a safe topic. "How's the team doing?" The question is accompanied by a slight jerk of his chin toward the shoulder that bears Bean's Blades tattoo and David has to fight a sudden urge to groan. And just how, Mr. Wenham, do you know where he's tattooed?

Sean grunts at the question, shaking his head. "We'll do better next season," he says firmly. "Though it's been good being able to get to a match once in a while." He leans back in his chair, legs falling apart slightly wider as he tips his pint back. "Look, you were right earlier. I've been a cunt today. I'm sorry about that. I hope I didn't fuck you over too badly."

"You weren't a total cunt and you pulled your head out when you needed to," David replies, leaning forward a little. "And it's got to be weird; coming in like this and everyone's on a different page than they were when you left.' He doesn't mean Viggo; he promised not to talk about that and so he won't until Sean needs to.

"Reports of my death have not been greatly exaggerated," Sean jokes, "so yeah, it's more than a little strange." He looks around, and spots a waiter, orders another pair of drinks. "I'll be going home. Maybe not soon enough, but I'll be gone."

"Pity we're not doing more," David says. "You were good this afternoon; I liked working with you." And Sean was good too; once he put aside his irritation, he proved to be professional and even inspiring. Even more so because the guy started out so pissed off.

Sean knows that tone. Oh yes. He's seen it in costars pretty much since Sharpe started up, and in New Zealand it was more the rule than the exception.

Not that it'd mattered; as soon as Viggo snapped his fingers, Sean had--

--shite.

"Thanks," Sean mutters, a bit more gruffly than he has to, and scratches at the back of his neck. "I liked working with you, too. Felt more real than I expected. Like looking at me own brother, if he happened to be Australian."

Brother, David thinks a little glumly as he drinks his beer. He thinks of me as an Aussie brother. Joy.

"It's the nose isn't it?" he says, turning to show off his profile. "John and I are sure it's about the noses."

"You know what they say about noses," Sean says automatically, smirking. "Could have a point."

"No," David says with mock innocence, "what do they say about noses?" He laughs and drinks more beer. "It's God's own bloody truth in my case."

Sean smirks over his beer. "Prove it," he says. He's not really sure where the impulse comes from. Only -- it'd be good not fucking pining for the week he's in New Zealand.

Just like that, huh? David rises to his feet without a word and heads off to the men's room. Although it's not easy, he doesn't bother to look behind to see Sean's reaction. I can always give him grief about it if he doesn't follow.

Sean follows David into the loo and looks around to make sure no one is in any of the stalls. He leans up against the door, shoulders pinning it shut, and sticks his thumbs through the belt loops of his jeans. "You first or me?" he asks.

"That depends," David replies grinning. "Are we actually just comparing or are we fucking or is one of us going to suck the other off?"

"Fuck, you're direct," Sean says. And he's thinking about his first time with Viggo, and how matter-of-fact everything was that first time around, how easy Viggo made it. How about I just suck you off and we figure out what comes next later...?

He comes forward and digs his fingers into the top of David's waistband. "It's been a while," he murmurs, "and I could use a good shag." He nods at the stalls. "Now? Here?"

Looking around and then back at Sean, David shrugs a little trying not to show how affected he is already by Sean's closeness. "Here's good. Or my flat's nearby."

Here really isn't all that good -- this is a local pub and David likes the place; he'd like to come back. But he'd trade that for Sean doing him hard and good in a stall and he's strong enough to admit that to himself.

"Do I look like a slut?" David asks, dipping a hand in his pocket and coming up with a condom and a sample sized lube packet. "Beloved by gay men everywhere," he says with a grin as he lets Sean maneuver him into the stall.

"Don't ask questions if you don't want to hear the answer," Sean smirks, kicking the stall door shut behind them and snagging the condom and lube out of David's hand. "Good boy."

There's no room in the stall, really, and that's part of the appeal; Sean wraps an arm around David's waist from behind and tugs him closer, if that's possible. His teeth scrape lightly along the back of David's neck. "You want me to fuck you?" he murmurs.

"Hell yeah," David says. The teeth at the back of his neck and that "good boy" are affecting him more than expected and he reaches down and unbuttons his jeans quickly, wondering what Sean'll say when he discovers that David's not wearing underwear.

Sean doesn't have anything to say at all about it; it doesn't occur to him that there's anything unusual about a man going commando. Viggo always did. He helps David get his pants around his thighs, then follows suit with his own, slicking the condom over his cock and popping the lube capsule open.

"Come here -- like this--" Sean takes a step back, hissing as his arse hits the cold metal wall of the stall, but it's worth it for the way he can tug David's hips backwards another step, bend him over just a little as he faces the wall. "Think we can be quiet?" Sean asks, just before he thrusts three hard fingers into David, no preamble whatsoever.

David puts one arm against the stall wall, right at mouth level and his teeth sink into his forearm just in time to muffle his grunt when Sean pushes his fingers in. Holy fucking God but that hurts ... feels fucking good too. He arches his hips as much as he can to encourage Sean.

Sean snarls, low in his throat, and gives David just one more thrust before he's pulling his fingers back and guiding his cock into him. He doesn't say a word, instead bending forward and biting harder at the back of David's neck while his hips lunge forward, the metal of the stall wall rattling with every thrust.

This is what he needs. Just someone nearby. Someone who wants it. Someone who's not bloody Viggo, and Sean's teeth sink down hard as he keeps moving, nearly lifting David off his feet.

David winces, not sure which he feels the pain of more, his own teeth or Sean's or the brutal way Sean is fucking him. But it's good ... so goddamned good and the physical effort isn't the only thing that's making him grunt in time with each thrust.

God yes... oh fuck yes ... Jesus... he thinks as he reaches down to grab his cock.

"You want to come with me fucking you, you better do it soon," Sean warns; he's close, already, the sound of both men's breath soft in the room but loud enough to make his vision grey out.

The almost desperate quality of Sean's voice is enough to set David off. A couple more rough strokes to his cock and he's coming hard, the thick jets spattering against the metal wall. David can hardly breathe and he can taste blood in his mouth from where his teeth broke the skin on his arm.

Sean grunts one more time and comes, shoving David forward, all but collapsing him, and he wraps an arm around David's waist and pulls him close, keeping him upright as the last spasms take him.

Finally letting his mouth fall away from his arm, David takes a long unsteady breath. "Holy Christ, mate, but that was good," he says as soon as he thinks he can talk again. He leans his forehead against the wall and tries to come back to himself.

Sean grunts agreement as he slides out of David, hand at the base of his cock to catch the condom so he can slide it off, knot it and throw it into the toilet. Easier done in a place with more room, but there are worse places to be. He grimaces as he pulls his pants back up and wrestles his way out of the stall, heading to the sinks to wash his hands.

OK like that is it? David's fine with brusqueness, and if Sean's gone beyond brusque to downright rude, well he has reason to as far as David's concerned. He doesn't know what happened with Viggo but someone will surely be able to clue him in. He takes a deep breath, grabs some toilet paper to clean himself up and then buttons up his jeans and comes out to wash his own hands.

"Fancy a round of pool or darts?" he asks, his voice completely carefree.

Sean, actually startled by the offer, looks up into the mirror and blinks at David. "All right," he says, shrugging. He really is feeling much better; the fuck certainly took the edge off. And if he was fucking the wrong man, it doesn't matter.

The pool table is in use but the dart board is free and David fetches another round before collecting the darts from the barman. "So how's that armour feel?" he asks as he throws. "I don't have mine yet."

"Heavy," Sean admits, starting to grin. The armor was the first part of his trip out that felt new, that didn't have the taint of memory all over it. "Heavy all over, but fucking fantastic. Too bad I didn't get to wear it while I was fighting all the bloody goddamned orcs--"

So much for keeping away from the taint of memory. Sean shakes his head and steps back to the line in front of the dartboard, lining up his shot.

"Yeah," David agrees after Bean takes his shots, "But Billy told me it was bloody hot that week. You were probably better off without it." He takes his own shots, pleased with the throws.

"Probably," Sean is forced to agree. Sean's terrible at darts, and the game seems more an excuse to cool off a bit, let some of the day's stress go, than anything else. For a while, he can forget about being in bloody New Zealand again. And David -- David's very fucking cute, all things considered.

"Mate, listen," Sean murmurs as David walks past him to retrieve his darts. "Sorry about being such a fucking prick earlier--" And he tries hard not to snort at himself for the turn of the phrase. "Make it up to you?"

"More than you already did?" David asks, grinning as he comes back to the line. "And just how to you propose to make it up to me, big brother?"

"Let you fuck me?" Sean suggests over David's shoulder. And he steps away to give David a little more room.

"Horny bastard," David mutters affectionately, throwing his darts. "Again tonight?" he asks just before sauntering off to pull them out of the board.

"Are you doing anything else?" Sean asks archly.

"Besides beating you at darts?" David asks grinning. "Not really. But this time we go to my place or yours, OK?"

"Fair enough," Sean agrees. "How about yours?"

In reply, David pulls his car keys from his pocket and tosses them up in the air, catching them as the come back down. "Shall we?" he asks gesturing toward the door.

"Why not?" Sean asks, following David out.

What with getting out of the bar car park and the one red light and then parking again, it actually takes longer to drive to David's place than it would have taken for them to walk there.

"Flat, sweet flat," David says as they climb the stairs to the third floor. "It's not much," he adds, opening the door, "but I rather like the place." It's a fairly standard one bedroom flat; the living room and dining area are good sized and the kitchen is passable. What David likes about it is that the walls are painted in dark colors; the living room is done in a dark brick red, the bedroom in dark green. It's just a little unusual and although with the dark wood of the furniture it's kind of moody in a way that suits him.

"Can I get you a beer? Something else?" he asks.

"A beer, yeah," Sean agrees, taking a look around. David's place feels comfortable; the decoration's a lot like Sean would have picked out. It's not paint splattered or covered in messy papers everywhere, and the counters in the kitchen don't look like a war zone. This surprises Sean for some reason, but he doesn't really want to think about why. "Nice place," he adds.

"Thanks," David says, getting a couple of beers out of the steel fridge. "I really like it. I'm subletting; the owner's in the UK teaching for a year." He grins. "This whole project is like a fucking dream you know?"

"Oh, yeah. Whole new world," Sean agrees. "It was interesting going back home and loading the dishwasher while I was thinking of everyone else at Helm's Deep..."

The time difference had been so warped then as to make trying to call impossible, Sean remembers. He wonders if that was when things started falling apart, and what would have happened if he'd just said fuck being home, whether he could have come back to New Zealand and just taken care of his lover while he was half-losing his mind to night shoots and endless rain and fight sequences.

"Anyway," Sean murmurs. "We here to talk?"

"Depends," David replies, guessing that Sean was thinking of Viggo. He's not sure if he should mind Sean thinking about Viggo or not. He doesn't really, because he's the one getting fucked and Viggo is off doing whatever it is that Viggo does -- to be honest, David's never cared much.

"I'm a good host, so if you want to talk, we can talk," he tells Sean. "Or I have a bed, a sturdy dining table and a couch that cleans up nicely."

"Could do with a bed for a change," Sean admits. He tries to grin. "Bet your sheets even match."

"Of course," David says, leading the way to the bedroom. "They're fabulous darling!" he adds, rolling his eyes at the overt affectation.

Sean laughs. "I can take fabulous," he says, surprising himself a little -- he was expecting to want rough and half-desperate, like he gave David in the loo at the pub, but now that he's here in David's house it doesn't seem quite so important to snarl.

"We're both such screaming queens after all," David teases, unbuttoning his shirt as they move into the bedroom. He's glad Sean lightened up; hopefully the quick fuck in the loo took off some of the other man's tension.

Sean actually sits down on the foot of the bed and watches as David gets his shirt off. David looks damned good naked, freckles all over, and all that blonde hair -- the two of them together are going to be pretty as hell. Sean's glad he's going to get the opportunity to enjoy it this time around.

On the other hand, it was also nice that I could just haul him off for a fuck in the loo. Best of both worlds.

Grinning at Sean while he kicks his trainers off, David then puts a bit of a wiggle into his hips as he slowly takes his jeans off. One hand on his hip, he poses. "You like?"

"What's not to like?" Sean asks, trying not to laugh. "You ever work as a stripper, Dave?"

"You think I should?" David asks, doing a bit of a bump and grind. "I wonder if the money is better than acting."

"Depends on how often you work and who your clients are," Sean grins back. He curls a finger and beckons David over. "Get your cock over here and fuck me."

I really get to fuck him? David had thought that Dean's earlier words were just a tease, but he's never been one to turn down a chance to fuck someone as hot as Sean. Or a chance to be fucked by someone as hot as Sean. Wenham? you're a slut.

Grinning, he moves over to the bed and moves behind Sean, sliding his hands over Sean's shoulders and down across his chest. "How do you like it, then?"

Sean catches David's hand in one of his and grins, turning his head half over his shoulder to look at David. "Up me arse," he jokes. "More specific than that, it doesn't matter."

"Wanker," David says, laughing. He lies back on the bed and grabs for the lube and a condom. "Get over here and ride me then," he suggests, rolling the condom on quickly. He pours a generous amount of lube in his hand and casually strokes his cock, waiting to see if Sean will go for this or not.

It sounds just fine to Sean. He grins down at David, crawling down the bed so he can straddle David's legs, tugging David's hand out of the way and holding the base of his cock steady. "Been ages since I've been fucked," Sean grins. And he begins fitting himself down over David's cock, grunting quietly as he stretches and burns and fits David inside him.

"Oh fuck yeah ... I can tell," David gasps. "You're fucking tight mate ... 's fantastic." It's shocking really; even though David can feel himself inside Sean, can look up and see Sean above him, it still surprises him that he's here with Sean Bean in his bed. "Fuck," he groans. "Fuck....."

"Stating -- the obvious there," Sean grins. He leans forward, gets his hands on David's wrists, and starts riding his cock hard, tongue poking out between his teeth in concentration. His breath picks up as he goes -- Christ, David feels good in him -- and he's smiling before he realizes it.

"Oh yeah," David moans when Sean's hands close on his wrists. He struggles just a little, enough to be sure that Sean's going to keep holding him down and then concentrates on matching Sean's rhythm. Sean's using him, he knows and he doesn't mind it as much as he probably should.

"So maybe it's -- true what they -- say about the -- noses," Sean grunts out, grinning hard. He pushes down hard on David's cock, keeping David pinned down, and tugs one of David's hands down, wrapping it around his cock and starting to stroke. "Fuck mate, that's good..."

"Greedy bastard," David says. Not that it's a problem, he thinks as he works Sean's cock over, squeezing just a little as he pumps it. He's gone still otherwise; it's obvious Sean wants to ride him without any help from David and yes he'll admit that there's something a little hot about being used like this.

"And you're not?" Sean fires back. But they're the last words he can get out before he's coming, hard, all over David's hand, jerking and gasping as he feels his whole body shudder.

"Fuck!" David yells, and even Sean's weight on his hips can't keep him from thrusting up once as he comes, struggling against Sean's hold on his wrist. "Fuck," he says again softly this time, as he relaxes back on the bed.

"There now, that was good," Sean grins -- can't help it, even though it must look smug as hell -- and he settles down on David's chest, resting his head against his shoulder, letting his breath come back to him.

"Fucking tops," David agrees, surprised but very pleased that Sean wants to be close. Maybe I shouldn't be pleased, but fuck it. Even broken hearted, he's a great shag. He tries to tell himself that that's all he cares about and, with Sean's weight on him like this, he manages. For the most part.

It's so easy. David makes it so easy just to stay here like this, just to hold on, pretend someone gives a fuck. Sean presses his face hard to David's neck and takes a long breath. It's the wrong man's skin, the wrong man's sweat, but it's real and here, and that's a hell of a lot better than going home alone and pining after the one man on set who doesn't want a fucking thing to do with Sean anymore.

Shifting them both a little, David runs his hands up and down Sean's back. He can think of plenty of things to say, but they all involve mentioning a name he knows isn't welcome here. So instead, he contents himself with offering silent support.

-FIN-