Now

Author: Kerry ~Aja
Pairing: Sean Bean/Harry Sinclair
Rating: NC17
Summary: Sometimes you just have to live for the moment. PWP.
Note: An incredibly plotless ficlet for my gorgeous Limey Girls. (We sound like a cartoon or something.. Anime.. Limey Girls to the Rescue. Live and Let Lime. Lime Another Day. License to Lime. needs sleep The Lime Is Not Enough. You Only Lime Twice. The Man With The Golden Lime. Limefinger.)
Disclaimer: Not true. Not even close to being true.
For more smut like this, and other, PG-rated stuff: http://www.dreamreaver.com/showcase

NOW


Outside of his circle of antipodean friends, there was nobody who really knew Harry. Well, Viggo said hello a couple of times, even had a deeper conversation about Aragorn and Isildur. But, they hadn't gone out for drinks or anything.

So maybe the little gathering at Peter's was for his benefit, maybe it wasn't.

There had been no time to think too hard about it then, because there was Elijah, star of the show, being beautiful and witty. Elijah could, if he wasn't so obviously attracted to two much younger and better-looking members of the cast, charm the pants off Harry. More than once that night, the sight of all that pale skin left Harry feeling a little hot under the collar. But he's too old for silly crushes, so he had to just try not to think about it.

Elijah had said something to him, possibly about Orlando's delightful shirt, but Harry hadn't really been listening because hello, don't think I saw you around before. Perhaps it was because Elijah noticed, or maybe he was just being polite, but he'd suddenly turned and shouted, "Bean!"

Ah, of course. Harry probably should have guessed. He had seen this man, from a distance, talking with Viggo.

"Elijah," Sean had said, smiling at Harry and thrusting out his hand. "Nice to finally meet you, too, Mr Sinclair."

"Harry," Harry had corrected, shaking his hand. Hadn't said anything more because he didn't really trust himself.

"Harry," Sean repeated. He hadn't let go of Harry's hand.

Elijah had grinned up at the both of them. "Well, I'm gonna.. uh.. See ya."

"That kid's a right little shit," Sean had said, as soon as Elijah was out of earshot.

"Excuse me?"

"He left out the part about you being so.." Sean had tightened his grip a bit, searching for a word as Harry felt a blush creeping up his neck. "Tall," he finished.

"I don't think I've seen any of your work," Harry had blurted out. What the hell was wrong with him?

"That's alright, mate. I 'aven't seen any of yours either."

"Shall we go somewhere else? Right now?"

Sean had just shrugged and smiled, the curve of his lips making Harry want to moan and just fucking grab him right there. Instead, he'd nodded and followed Sean down to the driveway. Glad for the amount of people at the party, because it meant nobody had noticed them leaving.

Now, Harry's hissing soft obscenities as Sean's tongue dips into his ear again. Digging his heels into cotton sheets as Sean's skilled hand moves over his cock.

"Can I fuck you?" Sean asks, biting at Harry's throat. "May I?"

Harry's forgotten the word 'yes', so he drags Sean onto him as his reply.

Now they're really fucking. This is hello, can I stay, I love you, goodbye and it feels good, better than good, great. Harry's knuckles are white, fingers curled tight over the fists of Sean's hands. He's pinned, the imprint of his body on the sheets deepening with every hard fast thrust of Sean's hips, every smooth deep slide of Sean's cock.

Now everything in Harry's vision is just black and red and white and blinding. He's gasping, suffocating, thrashing under violent waves.

Now Sean's heavy on top of him, sticky in places. But it doesn't seem to matter right now, because Harry's eyes have rolled back and he can't truly feel anything beyond the buzzing in his veins.

Now Harry's clean, still damp from the shower, laid on crisp new sheets. Exhausted. He looks up as Sean exits the en suite. Ah, right, he thinks. Time to go. But Sean asks if he has plans for Sunday, tomorrow.

Harry doesn't. Sean smiles and lifts one knee onto the edge of the bed, runs fingertips that smell of toothpaste over Harry's lips. "Well," he says. "You do now."


END