Just This Once

~500 words :: Jude Law/Ewan McGregor, Jude Law/Robert Carlyle :: 4/12/05
Jude is up from London. Ewan doesn’t know what Carlyle’s got over Jude, but he’s got something. Has to have. Jude is mechanical when Carlyle cups his chin, turns his head, kisses him. Ewan thinks he could make Jude lose that detachment, but he’s not sticking around, and no way is he crossing Carlyle anyway.


Some of the other blokes stick around after scoring. Ewan used to. Carlyle’s place is nice enough, nicer than Ewan’s anyway. But Ewan called him Carla once, just taking the piss, and ended up with a black eye and a lump on the back of his head where he hit the corner of the coffee table when he fell. He doesn’t trust himself being high around Carlyle anymore. He forks over the cash and gets the hell out of there.

Jude is up from London. Ewan doesn’t know what Carlyle’s got over Jude, but he’s got something. Has to have. Jude is mechanical when Carlyle cups his chin, turns his head, kisses him. Ewan thinks he could make Jude lose that detachment, but he’s not sticking around, and no way is he crossing Carlyle anyway.

He’s not sticking around and he’s not crossing Carlyle, but Jude’s smile when Ewan says something stupid isn’t forced like the one he gives Carlyle, and Ewan finds himself slipping the baggie out of his pocket and picking up the razor blade off the table and thinking just this once. He’ll stick around just a little while.

Everything’s different when he’s high. He knows he can take Carlyle, and it’s so obvious that Jude wants him as much as Ewan wants Jude. Maybe more. Chatting up Jude under Carlyle’s nose seems like a brilliant idea that could never go wrong and it’s a surprise when he finds a knife at his throat and a fist in his hair and Carlyle’s mouth to his ear saying, “Fucking cunt, you lay a finger on him and you’re dead.”

In his head, Ewan is calling him Carla and telling him to fuck off as it’s obvious it’s Ewan Jude wants. He’s not quite stupid enough to say it out loud.

Carlyle pulls the knife away and lets him go with a shove. He smirks at Ewan and gives Jude a smack on the arse. It’s some sort of signal, or maybe Carlyle said something too low for Ewan to catch. Whatever happened, Jude is unbuttoning his fly, shoving his jeans down around his thighs. He bends over the table, braces himself, and Carlyle comes up behind, dick already out. He spits in his palm and it’s obvious that’s all Jude’s going to get.

Jude’s eyes open wide as Carlyle works his way in. His mouth is pulled tight in a grimace and even from where he’s standing, Ewan can see his knuckles are white. Ewan can also see he’s not hard, not anywhere near it, but for some reason Ewan is. Carlyle doesn’t last long, and when he’s grunting out his orgasm, all Jude looks is relieved.

Carlyle zips up, a self-satisfied smirk on his face. Jude is slower getting his jeans up, and Ewan can see he’s trembling. He doesn’t look at Ewan at first, and when he does, his eyes drop to the obvious bulge in Ewan’s trousers and his expression goes flat.

The next time Ewan’s over, he’s afraid Jude will have left. Jude’s still there, but the smile he gives Ewan is no different from the one he gives everyone else.