I feel like this prompt was directly inspired by Tim Roth's quote:

"Well, as far as I’m concerned, Harvey [Keitel] could have done anything to me right then and there. He’s the man for me. I think he’s one of the best actors in the world."


Yes. You pliant thing. Let Harvey do whatever he wants with you.

First time fill, also first time writing a RPF (feels so unethical). I hope I'm doing this right. If anyone comments, I'll keep writing.

xxx

When Tim woke to a gentle rapping at the door, he had to shake off the feeling that he was back home in England. And he wasn’t in his crap apartment in New York. And he wasn’t in his mediocre apartment in Hollywood. And he wasn’t on the floor of the warehouse passed out in a pool of cherry-flavoured stage blood, too sticky to peel himself away for a cup of coffee. He was in his trailer. And once he had his head wrapped around that, his next response was that he had no idea how long he’d been asleep or which scene he was supposed to be prepped for.

He stumbled to his feet, tripping on the shoes he forgot that he’d taken off, and swung open the plastic door. But it wasn’t the 2nd A.D. there to tell him he was due for blocking 20 minutes ago. It was just Harvey. One of those people who felt weirdly like home. Maybe because he’d been watching his films back in England. The man was nostalgic.

Tim exhaled.

“Hello,” said Harvey, as if he were surprised to see him there.

“Oh hey man, what time is it?” By the end of the sentence, he was American.

“Past your bed time,” Harvey teased, tapping a rolled-up copy of the script in his palm. “I called your apartment but there was no answer. Can I talk to you for a minute?”

Tim nodded, noting that it was dark out already, and stepped aside to let Harvey in. Now he remembered that they’d wrapped for the day. He didn’t remember deciding to sleep in his trailer though. He really wasn’t supposed to be there.

“I think the wardrobe department was looking for that,” Harvey remarked, taking a seat on the chair across from the narrow bed.

Tim looked down and realized that he was still Mr. Orange. “Fuck.” Then he saw the red smears on his pillow. “Everything I touch becomes a crime scene.”

“Spoken like a true method actor,” joked Harvey, sifting through the papers in his hand.

“Come on, you know I don’t buy into that shit,” he mumbled, catching Harvey’s eyes briefly. “No offense,” he offered, recalling that Harvey was of the Stanislavsky persuasion. To each his own. Tim sat down on the bed and loosened his tie. “How did you feel about today?”

Harvey nodded. “Good. You?”

“Pretty good.” He pulled the tie over his head.

“Good.”

“Oh hey, I love what you did with the uh...” Tim snapped his fingers, trying to remember what they shot that day, trying to come up with something nice and easy and casual to talk about. Easy and casual had been an extra effort ever since they started shooting in the warehouse. It had been a pretty fucking brutal week and every time they left the set he was having a harder and harder time shaking it off. He had to work extra hard to keep it light so he wouldn’t sink into a black hole. “Your shit with Madsen,” he remembered. “That was tense.”

Harvey smiled politely. “Thanks.”

“I mean I didn’t see you, I just heard you, but it sounded really good.” Orange had been passed out for a couple days now, for the most part. “I’m basically set dec with a pulse these days.”

“The set dec still gets paid more than we do,” Harvey joked, and Tim smiled. “I know it’s not easy to do what you do all day,” Harvey continued without looking up from his script. “Being still like that? I’d be going nuts.”

“I am going slightly nuts, yeah,” Tim admitted. “I keep having these dreams that I’m dead.” Harvey met his eyes with what appeared to be concern, so he kept talking. “What did you want to see to me about? Everything cool?” He wasn’t sure if he was talking to Harvey-the-producer or Harvey-the-actor, though most of his work as a producer had been done long before they started shooting.

“I just wanted to get your take on the scene tomorrow.”

“I’m glad you said that.” He wasn’t glad. It was seriously uncomfortable and he preferred to just dive in hard and messy, and get right back out. Shit. He had to stop agreeing with everything Harvey said. “Sorry, but mind if I grab a shower first? I’m a bloody disaster.”

“By all means.”

“I’ll be super-quick.” Everything was super-everything now, when it wasn’t super-cool, and so it would be until it was time to pick up different obnoxious phrases from another script and forget about this one. But he had a feeling that this was going to be one of those projects that really got inside him. It was already different.

He got up and closed himself into the tiny bathroom, stripping down quickly with the moves he’d choreographed to avoid bumping his elbows on anything, and then he slipped into the Roth-sized shower.

Tim never really exhaled all day until the weak stream hot water hit him, finally able to scrub away Orange and crawl back into his own skin. The problem was that he was having a hard time remembering who he was these days. He almost never left the set, and he absolutely never stopped thinking or talking about work. He didn’t know which continent he belonged to. He hadn’t seen his friends in... he couldn’t even remember. There weren’t really that many of them and it shouldn’t have felt like a chore. The music he listened to was exclusively prescribed by Quentin. When he did make it out to see a movie or have a drink, it was always with cast or crew. Being that they were in a movie town, people often recognized him when they saw him (even more often than in New York or back home), and through their eyes he was someone other than himself again. ‘You’re American – how and why did you see that film?’ he wanted to ask, every time. Temporary financial stability was a relief that almost forgave his utter lack of existence outside his films. When people looked at him, he knew they were seeing someone who didn’t really exist. ‘You were great in this. I loved you in that.’ Here and now were abstract concepts.

Harvey advised him that it would get much worse if he kept up the good work. But Harvey saw who he was rather than who he was pretending to be. Maybe that’s why the man felt like home. The kind of home he had to make for himself... not the kind he had as a child. A lot of the actors he worked with were competitive by nature. ‘What have you done?’ ‘Who are you with?’ ‘Where did you train?’ ‘What are you doing next?’ He hated answering those questions. He hated feeling evaluated and sized up by people who he wanted to consider equals. On the other hand, Harvey Keitel had every right to brag if he wanted to. He was a real American movie star. But instead of pestering Tim about his history and his future, engaging in that discrete contest of who could drop a bigger name, he literally took Tim under his wing and held him there, respecting him as an equal and a friend. And he was always, always honest. A good listener. Able to give and take ideas without wasting time to consider whose opinion was more valuable. When he talked about work, it was to the point and never indulgent. All his charming anecdotes about life were just that... about life outside of the industry. The man had certainly lived.

Maybe that was Tim’s problem. He didn’t have another life.

Tim turned off the water, his briskly-shampooed hair hanging in his eyes. The length used to irritate him but he kept it that way to look younger. There were times when he enjoyed hiding behind it.

Tomorrow was the death scene. Of course on this film, every day was a death scene for someone, but theirs was The Death Scene. It was the punch line that lived up to its punch. So far they’d been getting on really well. Harvey was easy to work with. He was raw and vulnerable, totally open with not an ounce of judgement. It was every actor’s dream to work with someone so totally unafraid like that. Maybe it was simply in the nature of the scenes they had together, but there was a profound trust between them. He couldn’t have done the job without that. Tim was actually a little surprised by what Harvey was pulling out of him, making it look like Tim was responsible for all his own choices.

Once he’d toweled himself off he realized he hadn’t taken his clean clothes from that morning into the bathroom with him. Reluctantly, he wrapped the towel around his waist and slipped back into the little den of the trailer.

Tim almost stopped himself as he unclasped his hands, then almost stopped himself again when he placed one hand over Harvey’s.

Yes, this blocking did make the difficult choices easier. If Quentin put them face to face tomorrow, he would have to turn away.

A chill crawled through his guts as Harvey slowly pulled his hand out from under Tim’s. That was inevitable. Tim sat up to give him some space, but Harvey’s fingers twisted tightly into his damp hair before he could stand. With his free hand, Harvey made a finger-gun, pointing it right at his bare chest. The fingertips against his chest might as well have been a real gun because suddenly Tim felt like he was in trouble. Shit, he’d made it weird. He shouldn’t have touched his hand like that, it was too much.

“I’m bigger than you,” Harvey stated. Tim wanted to find it funny, but it wasn’t.

“I know that.” Tim felt like a wet noodle next to Harvey Keitel. Intellectually, he knew Harvey wanted to intimidate him as a tactic. Maybe the discussion had come too easily for the actor’s liking. Maybe he wanted a little more tension, more debate. Tim understood Harvey’s method, why he was trying to disarm him, but it didn’t make uneasy feeling any less real.

“I may not have a loaded gun, but I could hurt you if I wanted to.” He gave Tim’s hair a short tug, making him blink with a start. “Very easily.”

“I – I know,” Tim stammered. “I get it.” For the first time since they’d started working together, Tim tried to pull away, genuinely.

But he couldn’t. So he sat there on the edge of the cot with his pulse racing beneath the man’s fingertips.

“I’m under the impression that you’re not taking this seriously.”

“Yes I am!” This was probably the biggest job he’d ever had, and he knew it. “Christ. I told you, I get it, will you let me get dressed already?” Tim wasn’t sure if he was trying to get angry, but his voice came out thin and uncertain.

“You and I may have a comfortable working relationship, but we are two very different people. Don’t get too comfortable.”

Tim just nodded. Harvey was making a point about their characters. It was his own goddamn fault for calling Harvey by his character name. It was very generous, what the man was giving him now, but it wasn’t easy to know what to do with it. Without anything left to offer, he said it again: “I’m sorry.”

I’m a cop. I’m so sorry, Larry.

Tim watched the scene play out in his head. He was so deep inside his own mind in that moment that he didn’t realize it at first when Harvey’s ‘hand’-gun dissolved, and his fingers moved around his arm instead. Tim sucked in a sharp breath between his teeth when Harvey tugged a handful of his hair, but his instinct was to ask for more – not to stop it.

Of course. There it was.

“Okay, okay,” Tim sighed, his neck straining against the grip in his wet hair. “You win.” Fucking method actors.

Harvey pulled him closer. “What do I win?”

Tim swallowed hard, wondering when Harvey was going to drop the act. The man’s grip only tightened, their eyes locked together so hard that Tim had to close his before... he wasn’t even sure what. Before something bad happened. Before he saw something he couldn’t handle.

“Why are you doing this,” Tim managed to ask, just above a whisper.

Harvey didn’t respond right away. “Because now I know that you want me to.”

Tim gasped loudly in utter surprise, pulling away reflexively when he felt lips brush his throat.

“Whoa.” Tim tensed up all over, the little hairs on his arms standing on end. He blinked his eyes open... then immediately relaxed into what could have been considered an embrace to the untrained eye, despite nearly a foot of space between them. Harvey’s hands at his thigh and in his hair were steady, but hungry.

“I’m just messing with you,” Harvey spoke quietly, his voice a little rough. “You know that, right?”

Tim shook his head. Then nodded. He didn’t know what he knew anymore, but he knew that this wasn’t normal. Even for actors.

“I lost my senses back there,” Tim confessed, unable to place the vague familiarity of his own words. “But I’m fine now. I get it, all of it, don’t worry. I’m just... stressed. But I’m not confused.”

Harvey pushed Tim’s damp hair back from his forehead again, just helping himself. It was that shameless confidence that drew Tim in even deeper. But then the hand cupped his face and froze, as though Harvey was catching himself.

“You’ve got to tell me to back off.” Harvey, as usual, was pretending to be less generous than he really was. He was giving Tim the opportunity to put an abrupt end to this behaviour without feeling he was letting anyone down. He could obey the verbal cue or he could obey the physical cue. It was Tim’s choice and Harvey wasn’t giving him space to be wrong. “Just say the words. Tell me to stop.”

Tim shook his head. They couldn’t stop now.

Harvey’s hand was around the back of his neck suddenly, pulling him in, pressing their mouths together. It was eager, natural and hungry. Tim couldn’t remember the last time he’d kissed a man but he knew it had never felt this good or right. Tim dipped his head away for a moment, catching the breath that had rushed out of him, but even as little as the tip of Harvey’s nose touching his cheek pulled him back into the kiss, deeper and wetter.

Tim felt he should say something responsible, or slow down at the very least. Harvey had a lady, although that was as good as over, from what little Tim knew. He wanted to say that this would make working together difficult, but he knew they could deal with it. They had already established a certain level of intimacy, so what was a few more nudges?

Once his hand found Harvey’s firm chest and felt his heart slamming against his palm, that was it. No questions. No answers. Just the two of them.

He tore at Harvey’s shirt, hardly willing to break away from his lips long enough to peel the fabric over his head. He wanted to touch him and see him. Their bodies were so complimentary.

“You’re really built,” Tim murmured, running his fingers over the man’s firm, smooth chest once he had stripped him of his t-shirt. The first time he saw Taxi Driver, it was impossible not to imagine how Jodi Foster must have felt with those big, solid arms wrapped around her. It was a novel thought, but he was far from star-struck, despite the fact that this person had given one of the performances that made him want to become an actor. That was years ago. Here and now, this was just Harvey... the generous, warm, hardworking guy he was doing a gig with. Surely it didn’t matter that his heart was about to explode from his chest under the tender, needy caress of his hands and lips. They were having some fun. No big deal.

“I like the way you’re built,” Harvey told him with a genuine admiration.

“Ah fuck, Harvey... I must be outta my mind,” Tim stammered, straddling Harvey’s lap as the man guided his thighs and peeled his towel away. Tim was loosely aware that he’d lost his American accent again but he didn’t bother trying to find it.

“You and me both,” said Harvey. His mouth was all over Tim’s chest, tonguing his nipples, arms sliding around his back. “You’re so sexy...”

“Shut up.” Tim turned his face away when he felt it redden with annoyance, his hair falling into his eyes.

“I know you don’t know it. It’s true.” Harvey’s hand came up to his cheek to bring him down nose to nose again. “Remember that night after your non-audition? You wouldn’t read the scene so Quentin started getting you drunk...”

Tim laughed, spreading his fingers across Harvey’s shoulders. “Yeah. You got pissed off and left.”

Harvey shook his head with an amused grin forming at the corner of his mouth. “I had to get out of there. You get pretty damn friendly when you drink and I just...” Any airy laugh burst out of him. “I had to leave.”

Tim felt his smile fade a little, but the muscle in his chest only pounded away at his ribs even harder. It was strange. Finding himself naked in Harvey’s lap had come on somewhat spontaneously for him. Perhaps it put them on level ground though. Harvey had wanted him since they met, if he understood correctly, but Tim had been admiring the other man on screen for over ten years, with absolutely no real fantasy of knowing him personally.

Tim quieted his mind and moved his fingers to the belt at Harvey’s jeans.

“What makes you feel good?” Harvey asked. He was so focused on Tim that he barely seemed to notice when his belt and fly were open, making no attempt to help Tim slide them off.

“This. You.” Tim leaned in to press a kiss beneath Harvey’s jaw.

“Mm.” Harvey laced his fingers through Tim’s hair, encouraging more of the attention he was getting from the lips and tongue at his neck. “What else? Tell me what you’re into, I’ll make it happen.”

“I... I’m up for anything.” If he was too indifferent Harvey would see through him, so he decided to be honest. “I don’t do this very often. What do you want?”

“I wanna fuck you till you scream,” Harvey groaned, seeming completely unbothered by Tim’s lack of experience with this kind of situation. His hands trailed down to squeeze Tim’s ass.

Tim drew in a deep, shaky breath, almost painfully hard now, leaking all over the man’s rough jeans.

“Shit, Harvey. I think there’s people around...” As soon as he said it he hoped it was taken at face value and not a rejection to the idea as a whole. Harvey’s words made him feel weak and crazy and he wanted it so bad. He wasn’t sure how he felt about doing it in his trailer though, at work.

“We’re all alone,” Harvey assured him, running his hands up and down Tim’s thighs. “We can take this elsewhere but you do realize you’re really gonna come to your senses as soon as you get some fresh air.”

“This isn’t an illusion,” Tim said, more to himself than to Harvey. “I really want you. Just not... here.” They were both going to have to make their way back home after anyway so why not do this comfortably? He leaned in and tasted Harvey’s mouth again, just for a moment. “Anyway, I don’t... have anything... in my trailer.”

When Harvey wrapped his arms around him and deepened the kiss once more, Tim knew that they could finish themselves off in under two minutes right then and there without much fuss, but he wanted more. He really did. And maybe one or both of them really would come to their senses somewhere along the way between the set and home but it was worth risking that for real privacy and a real bed. It was worth knowing if this was a choice that Tim and Harvey were making, or if it was only their characters and exhaustion eating away at their judgement.

Tim pressed his forehead to Harvey’s, zipped up the man’s pants and buckled his belt for him again. His fingers were craving the warm, hard flesh he hadn’t had a chance to experience yet. It wasn’t easy to walk away from this, even temporarily. Not just from Harvey, but from the intimacy he hadn’t had off-camera in a long time.

“You get dressed,” Harvey suggested as Tim crawled off his lap. “I’ll get a taxi.”

Hi! I'm so glad you're reading and enjoying this, I'll finish it right up! :D

Holy crap, someone is reading! I'll try to finish this up today, thanks for commenting. :)

Yaaay thanks! I'm posting the rest in a few hours. :D Was so not prepared for anyone to actually read...

Lips and tongue between his shoulder blades made him shiver. When Tim felt Harvey’s warm, firm cock pressing against his ass he groaned hard into his pillow, the needy ache in his belly clenching like a fist.

“When’s the last time you got fucked by a guy?” Harvey straddled the backs of Tim’s thighs and ran his hands up and down his back and shoulders, before finally landing on his ass, grabbing kneading a handful of flesh.

“Not recently,” Tim answered quickly. “But I’ve dated some pretty liberal chicks.”

Harvey laughed in sincere amusement and pat his ass affectionately. “That’s cute, but it’s not the same.”

No, it wasn’t the same.

“But you’ve done this before?” Harvey slid his thumb between Tim’s buttocks and rubbed his hole.

Tim’s cock throbbed against the mattress. “Yeah, but I’m not telling you about it.”

“You like it?”

He didn’t know why Harvey was so reluctant to be convinced that he was okay with this. Tim nodded, but it wasn’t a matter of liking it. It was a matter of needing it. Sex distilled everything into one clear time and place that he really existed in. Being fucked, feeling another person inside him, the pain and satisfaction... that’s what he was most desperate for. He tried to push his hips up and spread his legs open, but Harvey had him pinned in place, leisurely thumbing the rim of his hole.

Tim groaned in frustration and arousal, but then he felt Harvey’s thick, rough fingers nudging at his lips. He turned his head and gratefully accepted them into his mouth, running his tongue between and around them, generously coating the fingers with saliva, ready to feel them press into the tight muscle between his legs.

Harvey pulled his fingers out from between Tim’s eager lips with a wet smack, but instead of sliding his slick fingers into the his ass, Harvey shifted his body further down Tim’s legs, pulled his hips up higher, and reached around to swipe the saliva all over his hard cock.

Tim twisted his fist into the pillow and moaned while Harvey spread his spit and precome around his hard cock before he started pumping him, slow and steady.

“Fuck...” Tim rocked his hips against the hand, trying to get more friction. He wanted Harvey to get closer, frustrated by the air against his bare ass. “If you don’t fuckin fuck me, I swear I’m gonna go fuckin mental...”

“Let’s see you go mental.”

He twisted around, about to protest, but Harvey let go of Tim’s cock and caught his chin with wet fingers.

“Kidding,” Harvey whispered before kissing him and stuffing his face back down into the pillow.

Tim sighed, trying to be patient. His lips were still humming from the kiss. Every touch left a deep impression. A part of him must have known that this wouldn’t happen twice, so his body savoured everything.

When those warm lips moved to the back of his neck and it almost angered him the way that such a gentle touch could drag such immense feelings out of him. Every inch of his body was throbbing with anticipation as those lips traced down his spine. Around the time a barely-stubbled chin brushed just above Tim’s tailbone, Harvey wrapped his arm around his waist and pulled him up onto his knees.

The shock of a wet tongue sliding between his buttocks pulled a short, startled cry from Tim’s lips, muffled into the pillow. Christ, he was not expecting that, and it had been a long time since he’d experienced it. His legs began to shudder, and immediately two strong hands wrapped around his thighs and held him steady.

“Do you like that?” It was a frank question.

How could he not like it? “Yeah,” Tim quickly panted, pushing himself up onto his elbows and arching his back.

Harvey was generous with his lips, tongue and saliva, delivering long, slow laps of his tongue, massaging Tim's thighs with needy hands. Every time the tip of his tongue prodded gently at his hole, Tim’s dick twitched, aching for some attention, but he didn’t touch himself... he was too turned on and he was afraid to end it. The soft, wet heat of Harvey’s tongue wiggling around his asshole was almost enough to get him off as it was. After a minute or so he lost any sense of the modesty he was still clinging to and couldn’t help but to push himself back against Harvey’s mouth. The man’s hands responded by pulling him even closer, fingertips digging almost painfully into his flesh and he really fucking hoped that it would bruise. That eager tongue threatened to slide into his body at any moment, but he held off with persistent, relentless teasing.

Tim didn’t even realize he was holding his breath behind clenched teeth until his head started spinning. When he let go, he couldn’t keep his desperate pleas down. Whimpers and curses and moans streamed form his lips, eyes squeezed shut, fists twisting into the sheets, raw pleasure searing through his veins with every swipe of the tongue working behind him. It wasn’t just what he was doing, but that he was doing it. The man had been casually touching him on a regular basis over the past few weeks, and Tim was always subtly leaning in for more. Now that it seemed they couldn’t possibly get any closer, he was still desperate and aching for as much as he could get.

“Come on, come on...” Tim reached back frantically and tore Harvey’s fingers from one of his thighs, tugging at his hand. “Fuck me. I want your dick.” His own voice sounded so completely foreign. As usual, Harvey was getting him to say and do things he didn’t even know he had in him.

Harvey’s hand pulled free of Tim’s and moved it around to grab his aching cock again, lips turning to the flesh of his buttocks, licking and sucking. Finally, he placed one more kiss at the small of his back, and sat up.

“Grab some lube.”

Tim reached for his bedside table. Lubrication was probably the main reason he’d opted for home instead of his trailer. At first he couldn’t find what he was looking for in the dark so he had to crawl out of Harvey’s grasp to dig through the back of the drawer. He was relieved when his fingers curled around the plastic bottle – not that it would have stopped him if he couldn’t find it – and just to be on the safe side, he grabbed a condom.

He turned back to Harvey, shoved the accoutrements into his palm, and crawled onto his lap. Two broad arms closed around him as he kissed and licked the man’s neck, careful not to leave any marks above the collarbone, despite the fact that they had a makeup artist on set. Rubbing his nose beneath his jaw, the smell of Harvey’s aftershave was sharp and familiar. Tim prayed that it wouldn’t give him a hard-on the next day while he was lying on that ramp with him, sticky and exhausted... Would people be able to tell that something was different? Quentin’s enthusiasm was bottomless. He would probably love it.

Tim turned his head, twisting around and touching Harvey’s face, bringing him into a deep and hungry kiss. A moan vibrated against his tongue, and just knowing that he could make Harvey feel good almost put him over the edge. He kissed him harder, deeper, using his teeth, trying to set the pace, until finally he began to chip away at the other man’s restraint, bridging the gap between how his lover felt he should treat him and his base instincts to fuck, use, take.

Harvey broke the kiss with a strained moan, thrusting harder (but not too hard) and stroking faster (but not too fast). “You’re so...”

“What?” Tight? Quiet? Impatient? Tim could hardly breathe. The sting, ache and throbbing pleasure were overwhelming, not to mention the immeasurable satisfaction of bringing Harvey to speechlessness.

“So goddamn beautiful.”

Once the words sank in, Tim turned his face into the pillow again, his guts knotting up and his chest tightening. After ten or so years of being evaluated by total strangers, being reminded time and time again that he was too much of something and not enough of something else for the camera, it was hard to take a compliment. ‘Sexy’ he could almost figure out how to handle, but ‘beautiful’ was a fucking fabrication. But something nagging inside told him that maybe there was a possibility that Harvey really might have somehow believed it.

Harvey pressed his forehead to the back of Tim’s shoulder. “You’re so good,” he whispered. “Are you gonna come for me?”

Tim felt himself rushing towards a climax at the very words, unable to resist Harvey’s suggestion, but he tried desperately to hold on a little longer. “Yes,” he whined. Desperate to grab on and hold something, he pulled his pillow from under his head and into his arms, against his chest. He buried his face and his fingers into the bag of foam.

When he felt the pillow being eased out of his white-knuckled grip he was reluctant to give it up at first, but then Harvey let go of his cock to hook his hand under Tim’s knee and carefully eased him around onto his back, never withdrawing, until he had both legs hooked over his shoulders. Tim gratefully wrapped his arms around Harvey’s back, letting the man fold him in half, and pressed his face into the his firm, broad shoulder.

“Come on, Freddy,” Harvey coaxed, returning his hand to his cock, with more purpose this time. “It’s easy to let it go.” He pressed his nose into Tim’s hair. “I can fuck you all night if you want me to, but you’ve been holding on too long. I can feel it.”

Tim dropped his head back against the pillow, holding down a sob, completely helpless. He clenched his teeth and curled his toes, trying not to let himself fall apart. He wanted to be angry with Harvey for pretending to know what he needed, but he did know. He knew everything. He was really inside him.

“Oh god, don’t – please – yes—“ Tim stammered, panting, refusing to give in, dying to draw it out just a little longer. He wanted to take it rough, nasty, mean... totally unprepared for this man to reframe what being fucked was supposed to feel like. This was slow, even, deliberate, controlled. It felt too good, and it made him hate that he’d convinced himself that there was only one way to enjoy it.

Harvey pressed a kiss to Tim’s cheekbone. “You okay?”

Tim nodded. “I’m... I...”

A few sparks of pleasure shot through his belly, sending currents trough his veins, and he was just too weak to hold on. His hands moved desperately to grab on to the other man anywhere he could. His balls tightened, his ass clamping down hard around Harvey’s thick cock, and for a few seconds he couldn’t breathe. He cried out, hard and desperate, and all it took was a soft, easy kiss to muffle his voice and nudge him right over the edge. Harvey fucked him slow and steady through his climax. He heard himself sobbing and moaning through his nose against the man’s cheek, shaking as the ecstasy rushed through him, vaguely aware of his come shooting onto his chest, swimming in the entire sensation until he slowly sank to the bottom of it and felt it all roll out like a tide. He was fuckin’ beached, and all he could think was:

Yes. Finally.

Harvey reluctantly broke the kiss and began to slow his thrusts, but Tim put his hands on the back of the man’s thighs. “Keep going,” he told him, his voice cracked and raw.

Harvey let go of Tim’s fading erection to brace his hand on the mattress, moving his relatively clean one to cup Tim’s face. Harvey dropped is head and kissed Tim’s throat, stroking his hair. Now that every muscle in Tim’s body had liquefied, he felt totally open and Harvey’s thrusts felt deeper. He never stopped kissing him or stroking his hair, whispering a few appreciative, loving words in his ear, but it was all a fog for Tim. He just opened himself to his lover’s affection, enjoying his body... the way his muscles contracted underneath his fingers, the way his voice was so familiar but so new, the way his warm breaths became more laboured and uneven as he inched towards a climax.

“Ah, Freddy—“

“Tim,” he whispered, giving himself up, getting high on the reality of his existence.

“That’s right. I know you, Tim. I’ve gotcha...”

If he hadn’t already been spent, hearing his name on his lover’s tongue with such care and pleasure would have done it. Harvey sank into Tim’s raw body a few more times before he groaned hard against his neck, a few curses bleeding from his lips as his climax gripped him. Tim held him tight while he came, the man in his arms hardening all over, dick twitching deep inside, voice straining, until finally his entire body began to weaken and soften again.

Harvey’s chest was heaving against Tim’s, their hearts drumming violently against one another. He seemed to catch himself giving Tim his weight and unhooked his ankles from his shoulders, sitting back with a deep, cathartic sigh.

Tim just lay there, legs splayed open, half of Harvey’s softening cock still inside him, blood hot and alive in his veins. As Harvey’s soothing hands stroked his thighs and his chest, sliding through the come on his skin, Tim could barely move. He had just enough strength to slip the pillowcase off his pillow and toss it at Harvey. There was no way he was walking all the way to the shower now. He was done.

Harvey half-grinned at Tim’s laziness, or perhaps his thriftiness, and mopped up the fluid from his chest with the pillowcase. Tim lay there like a banana peel, limp and useless, letting him do everything. Then, with a steady hand on his hip, Harvey carefully withdrew and wiped the excess lube away from both of them, then dried his hands and unrolled the condom.

Tim’s body contracted a little when he was empty, but he could still feel the deep impression and the satisfactory ache that would be gone by morning. He gestured for Harvey to hand him the condom, then rolled over and dropped it into the waste bin by his bed. Then he took the damp pillowcase, gently dried Harvey’s cock with it, and tossed it into the same bin.

Tim relaxed onto his back and Harvey eased onto the bed next to him with a deep sigh. They were both still for a moment, the real question of what was supposed to happen next finally starting to sink in, but when Tim grazed his knuckles against Harvey’s ribs absent-mindedly, the man took his wrist and pulled him into an embrace. All consideration for the future disappeared.

Tim yawned against Harvey’s chest, a soothing hand in his hair stroking gently and an arm tightening around his waist. This felt normal. He knew what it felt like to be held by the man, regardless of whether or not they were usually naked while it was happening.

“Wanna stay over?” Tim offered, trying not to sound too hopeful.

Harvey sighed reluctantly. “Early call. I don’t think I’ll have much time to get to my place and back to set in the morning. I should probably go...”

Tim nodded, feeling a little foolish for asking. It was kinda inappropriate. He tried to peel himself off the man’s chest, but Harvey’s arm tightened around his waist, and the hand in his hair slipped down around the back of his neck.

“But Lawrence is on set tomorrow,” he amended, stroking Tim’s neck with his thumb. “So you and I can probably add four hours onto that call time.”

Tim closed his eyes, exhaled, and let the rise and fall of Harvey’s chest lull him to the edge of sleep. “I’m glad we had this talk.”

“Me too, kiddo.”


xxx


Thanks for reading! I hope I posted this correctly, this thread is a little difficult to follow. Turns out that writing RPF just feels wrong and abusive so I won't be doing it again, but as an actor and a Reservoir Dogs fan, I saw this prompt and just couldn't help myself. Yay rimming. Yay identity issues. :)

Thank you so, so much! :D I'm really happy that you enjoyed, thanks for reading and making me feel better about abusing poor Tim and Harvey. Thanks for using the word "authenticity"!

Thank you so much for posting this awesome prompt and the kind, insightful comment! I'm really glad you liked it and that you looked beyond the rimming to the themes and issues and whatnot. :P