Paying for It

~800 words :: Jude Law/Ewan McGregor :: 9/30/04
“My nose! You’ve fucking broke my nose!”


A muffled, plastic crack gives Ewan a start; his fingers still for a moment, Jude’s fly only halfway down. Jude’s muttered “fuck” is loud in his ear.

“What? What’d you step on?”

“Video, feels like,” Jude says, pushing him back towards the bed.

“Video? Oi, if it’s a porno you’ve ruined, you’re bloody paying for it.”

“‘s not my fault,” Jude protests, making a small, desperate sound in the back of his throat as Ewan works one hand under the waistband of his pants. “What the fuck’ve you got videos under all these clothes for anyway?”

“You should’ve turned on the light.”

“Fuck you.”

Ewan’s about to say “working on it,” only Jude’s mouth is on his then, tongue inside as soon as his lips part to speak, and he doesn’t want to say anything anymore, except maybe “oh God” or “fuck, but these jeans are uncomfortable.”

His fingers close around Jude’s cock, and then the backs of his knees hit the bed and they fall back. Jude’s teeth close hard on Ewan’s lower lip and he yelps, the sharp metallic tang of blood filling his mouth.

And they’re still kissing.

Jude is fumbling with Ewan’s fly, the awkward angle and too much beer slowing him down, and Ewan’s tempted to bat his hands away and do it himself when the button finally pops open. The zipper slides down easily, as if to mock their earlier trouble.

Now they’re cock to cock, writhing, in too much of a hurry to spend any more time undressing. Each thrust pushes Ewan up towards the headboard until he can feel it pressing his hair down. Too close, he thinks, but he’s too close to coming to care.

And then it all happens at once. One moment he’s clutching Jude’s jumper, eyes screwed shut and panting as their hips pump faster, and the next his head is slamming against the headboard hard enough to bring tears to his eyes. And the moment after, he’s jerking up and his forehead smashes into something squishy, and there’s blood dripping down as Jude howls in pain.

“My nose! You’ve fucking broke my nose!”

When Jude pulls back, kneels up on the bed, Ewan can see his cock’s gone soft, hanging limply over half-shoved down pants, and somewhere in the back of his mind, he notes that even with his newly acquired headache, he himself is still hard.

“I never did,” Ewan says, but his words lack conviction. Sitting up, he leans over and turns on the desk lamp. Jude’s face – what he can see of it that’s not covered by shaking hands – is a mess of tears and blood. “You made me hit my head,” he adds petulantly, trying to shift the blame.

“Fuck you,” Jude chokes out. “You fucking broke my nose.”

“Lemme see.” Shuffling closer, Ewan reaches out to pull Jude’s hands away. “I bet it’s not broken.” He hopes to God it’s not.

Gently, he tugs one hand away and then the other, peering at Jude’s nose. It’s swollen, and bloody snot is still dripping slowly down over his lip, but, “I think it’s all right,” Ewan says, reaching up.

“Don’t touch it,” Jude cries, jerking back.

“Sorry…”

“Just…don’t.”

“I said sorry,” Ewan says sullenly. It’s not like he’d done it on purpose. Pushing off the bed, he skims out of his shirt and jeans. “I’ll get some ice.”

He pads down the hallway and into the sitting room, nearly tripping over his trainers. It’s not fair, he thinks, rubbing the back of his head and kicking a shoe into the kitchen. It’s not like Jude’s the only one in pain. At least his erection’s finally gone down. Perhaps it’s finally realised it won’t be getting any tonight. There’s not a whole lot of ice in the freezer, but Ewan takes what’s there, and grabs a towel from the bathroom to wrap it in on his way back.

Naked now, but for his pants, Jude looks small, crouched in the middle of Ewan’s bed. Small and like the kid he’s only just grown out of being. “Here,” Ewan says awkwardly, crawling up next to him and holding out the towel-wrapped ice cubes.

“It doesn’t even feel cold,” Jude complains, pressing it gingerly to his nose.

“Well, it’s better’n nothing, isn’t it?”

Jude’s “yeah” is so soft, Ewan almost doesn’t hear it, and then he looks at Ewan over the towel, puffy eyes crinkling up in a smile, and adds, “You’re a mess.”

“Not as bad as you.” When Ewan grins back, he can feel the dried blood stiff on his skin and the sting as his cut lip pulls open. “Anyway, it’s only what you deserve for breaking my video.”

“Fuck you.”