No Good at Subtlety

~2400 words :: Ewan McGregor/Jonathan Rhys Meyers :: 9/28/04
Ewan hooks up with a hot bartender. (Note: Co-written with Hilary.)

Jonny slings his little towel over his shoulder and leans a hip on the bar. There he is again, that bloke; he comes in a lot. Not a barfly, no, but a regular enough customer that it’s easy to tell who he looks for. Not girls, that’s certain.

Just enough to give a guy some hope in the world. But he’s seen enough blokes get turned down, as well. Ah, well. He fixes someone a gin and tonic and pours someone else a scotch, after debating the merits of ice in the thing. In the end, of course, he does as the customer wants, shaking his head good-naturedly and leaning over to grin some more and let a girl flirt uselessly with him. She’s pretty enough to look at; she buys one drink, then another, and then wanders off to be coy, looking over her shoulder. He spreads his hands apologetically and slings the towel off his shoulder to wipe at an imaginary spot on the bar. It gives him a chance to glance up again, then around, disappointed, as he realizes he’s lost sight of the bloke.

Outside, Ewan stands by the door, patting his pockets. Just a quick smoke on the way to the tube is all he wants and he can’t find the bloody things. He had a nearly full pack, too. Bloody hell. No one he fancies enough to cop off with and now he’s lost a pack of cigarettes, to boot. Of all the shit luck…

Where’d he have them last? That’s the question. At the bar, maybe; he had a beer and a smoke not that long ago. He’s not getting his hopes up about them still being there – if it were me found a pack of fags on the bar, I’d nick ’em – but it can’t hurt to check.

He makes his way back inside, over to the bar, waits for the bartender to finish with a couple of girls who’re obviously more interested in making eyes at him than getting drinks. Ewan doesn’t blame them. This bloke, his hair is nominally tied back, but it gives the impression of desperately trying to escape, strands falling forward into his face, and he makes no move to push them out of the way. It’s the sort of hair you want to wrap around your hands, tug hard when you’re coming…

Once he’s extricated himself from the girls, Jonny turns about and–well. He gives a big, slow smile and leans over the counter. Jesus, everything this guy’s got on is tight or well-worn or both, and it looks like if Jonny blew on him wrong his pants’d just fall right off.

Realizing he’s staring, Jon blinks and shakes his head. He probably looks like a lovestruck teenager, but he can’t be arsed to stop it. “Getcha something?” he asks, probably sounding more like he’s offering an obscene act than a drink.

Ewan blinks his way out of his daydream, straightens up. “Oh, yeah…erm.” He’s almost forgot what he came back for – oh right, the fags. “You didn’t see a pack of smokes here, did you?”

“About a dozen a day,” Jonny quips, but he glances around under the bar anyway, eager to help. “Ah!” He spots them and reaches for them, tucked just to one side of the taps. “But what’ll you give me if I give ’em back?” Jonny taps one out and pokes it between his lips, grinning. He figures he’ll get a bitching-out if he doesn’t give ’em back, but then again, this guy seems relaxed enough, and Jonny likes the slow way his eyes roam.

“I dunno,” Ewan says, suddenly wondering why he’s never done this before, “what time’re you finished here?” Elbows on the bar, he reaches out and plucks the package from the bartender’s hand. “Maybe I’ll think of something.”

“Oh,” Jonny says quite seriously, “I hope you will.” He glances at the clock behind him. “I’m first out; give me another hour?” Christ, this is shaping up well, and Jonny really hopes the guy’ll stick around that long.

“An hour?” Digging in his pocket, Ewan pulls out his lighter, lights up and then offers it to the bartender. “I s’pose I can stick around a bit longer.”

Grinning like a fiend, Jonny leans in and accepts the light, eyes never leaving those bright ones of his new friend. “Goody,” he says after a drag. He has no idea, really, what’s about to happen, but he can’t wait.

Jonny’s always so bloody glad when he doesn’t have to wait for the patrons to clear out. Tonight, he’s lucky enough to get to skip out early as things slow down, and hasn’t he got something to look forward to! He slings his jacket over his shoulder and angles his head toward the back door.

“Car’s this way,” he tells the guy with a private little leer. “I’ll drive you home.”

“Oh, you’ve a car,” Ewan says. “Brilliant!” Things are certainly looking up now. Not only has he managed to cop off after all, but he doesn’t have to take the tube, either. As they make their way out to the small car park out back, it suddenly occurs to him that he doesn’t even know this bloke’s name. “I’m Ewan, by the way.”

“Jonny.” But he doesn’t stick his hand out, just gives a little nod. Seems odd to shake with a bloke he’s likely about to have one off with. Proper introductions can be done later. The thought makes him grin as he unlocks the car, and he supposes he starts it up and pulls out a bit quicker than he normally does when he’s just heading off home.

Ewan gives Jonny directions to his flat – it’s really pretty straightforward and not all that far from the club by car – and then lights up again, rolling the window down once he’s got everything stuffed back in his pockets. “So…now I guess I owe you for the ride and finding my fags,” he says, grinning.

“Mmmm,” Jonny pretends to consider. “I suppose I’ll have to find a way for you to repay me…” He shoots Ewan a sidelong glance and a lewd smile, taking a turn and then watching the road again.

Flicking ash out the window, Ewan laughs. “I’m no good at subtlety,” he says after a moment. “You want a beer and a shag?”

“Absolutely,” Jon says immediately, seriously, and follows in that vein by asking, “Top? Bottom?”

“A little from column A, a little from column B.” Ewan flashes Jonny a grin that slides into a leer the longer he eyes him. “More A than B.”

“I meant now, tonight.” Jonny grins back, taking another turn onto a little road, and then just answers his own question. “All right then, Mr. More A than B, you go on and top and then when you find out how brilliant I am, we’ll do three out of four.” He sticks his tongue out between his teeth at Ewan, too glad to finally get at him to be picky about how.

“Oh, how brilliant you are, eh?” Ewan laughs and takes one last drag on his cigarette, tossing the butt out the window and rolling it back up. “Well, we’ll see about that.”

“Yes, we will,” Jonny murmurs, managing not to add “finally”. He’s glancing about at houses, now. “Which one?”

“Up a bit further. That block of flats at the end there,” Ewan says, pointing. Now they’re here, he can hardly wait to get upstairs. Fuck the beer. The beer can come after. What he wants is a shag. Now.

The universe is conspiring against him, though, and it takes what seems like ages to find a parking spot, and then to fumble with his keys before finally getting the door open. He mutters something to that effect under his breath and kicks the door shut behind him.

“Impatient?” Jonny asks, grinning. “Me, too,” he confesses easily. He follows Ewan’s lead, straight up the stairs. No mucking about, no faltering…Jonny likes that a great deal. Straight to bed. Brilliant.

Another bit of fumbling with another key – though this one is more cooperative – and finally they’re inside. “Well, this is it,” Ewan says, waving his hand at the room as he closes the door. Toeing out of his shoes, he grins at Jonny. “Now, I believe there’s the little matter of repayment…”

Jonny shoves out of his own shoes and grins back. “There is, there is.” He moves a little closer, unsure how to touch Ewan; is Ewan one of those blokes who just wants the deed itself, or should Jonny just grab him and kiss him as he wants to?

In the end, that wins out. Jonny takes another step, slides a hand around the back of Ewan’s neck and kisses him, licking at the taste of smoke and beer.

Moaning, Ewan kisses back, wrapping his arms around Jonny, one hand drifting down to cup his arse. He gives it a squeeze and grinds against him, not hard yet, but getting there fast. Over Jonny’s shoulder he can see the sofa, not far at all. With just a few steps he’s got the backs of Jonny’s legs against it and then they’re tumbling down, Ewan landing hard on top of him, barely pausing in his exploration of each Jonny’s mouth.

A short burst of laughter gets out of Jonny’s mouth around the kiss. He slides a hand up into Ewan’s hair, combing and petting, and drags the other one down over Ewan’s back to grip the back of one thigh, high up so he can pull on it. Ewan feels awfully good over him, all wiry and hard and somehow more real than the boys Jonny’s been with lately. It’s better than Jonny could’ve fantasised in all his nights of staring.

Worming his hand between them, Ewan cups Jonny’s cock through his jeans, pressing his palm down hard as he flicks the button open with his thumb. “You’ve got way too many clothes on,” he mumbles, grinning.

“So d’you,” Jonny hisses out, pressing up against Ewan’s hand. It feels good, all hot and close, and Jonny has to wonder just how Ewan fucks if he’s this aggressive on the couch with all his things still on. He tugs at the back of Ewan’s shirt to get it a little out of the way, then slides his hands up under it, dragging his nails down over the skin.

“I better do something about that, then, eh?” Ewan’s working on the zipper now and it doesn’t want to come down easily. There, finally. It’s down and his hand is inside, wrapped around Jonny cock. His own is throbbing, trapped uncomfortably in his jeans, and after a few strokes, he pulls back, sits up and quickly undoes his fly, shoving his jeans down around his thighs. “Oh fuck, that’s better,” he says, scrambling up so he can push them off all the way.

“Absolutely that’s better,” Jonny agrees, worming out of his own jeans and shorts and skinning his shirt off, too, for good measure. He hates this part, the battle with the clothes, but then they’re both naked. “C’mere. I liked that.” He grins and tugs at Ewan’s hand, wanting him on top again that way.

“Me, too.” Grinning, Ewan stretches out over Jonny and, oh fuck, that’s so much better. Tangling his hands in Jonny’s hair, he grinds against him, kissing him hard and deep, tongues sliding together, matching the rhythm of their hips.

Oh, fuck yeah. Jonny moans hungrily and slings one leg out and around Ewan’s, hooking his heel at the back of Ewan’s thigh and pulling. He’s so bloody glad Ewan forgot his fags at the bar tonight.

Ewan reaches down between them, wrapping his hand around both their dicks and holding them together as he thrusts. He vaguely remembers wanting to fuck Jonny at one point, but that seems like so much trouble now, and this is more than good enough. This is brilliant. Maybe he’ll ask Jonny to stay the night and fuck him later, maybe not. It doesn’t really matter now, not when his balls are so tight and he can barely breathe it feels so good. So close.

Gasping and twisting under Ewan, Jonny only just manages to moan, “Fuck, Ewan, don’t stop,” before he’s grabbing Ewan even tighter and coming, hips driving up all the harder as orgasm rips yelping cries out of his throat.

“Christ!” Ewan can feel Jonny’s cock pulsing in his hand, against his own cock, and he closes his eyes, grinding against him. Just a few more thrusts and then – there! – his fingers claw at Jonny’s shoulder and coming, forgetting to breathe as it goes on for what seems like forever.

Trembling, he collapses against Jonny, hand still trapped between them, the ragged sound of their breathing loud in the small flat. “Fuck…”

Unable to help it, Jonny starts to laugh. “That was brilliant,” he huffs out, slinging an arm around Ewan’s waist. “Makes me glad you’re a regular at the club.” He grabs Ewan’s head and kisses him, still chuckling.

“Why?” Ewan pokes Jonny in the ribs. Grinning, he wriggles around so he’s between Jonny and the sofa cushion. “You gonna nick my fags again so I have to ‘repay you’ for your kindness in returning them?”

“I didn’t nick your fags!” Jonny protests, but laughs again. “Good idea for next time, though.”

“Oi! I’m onto you now.” With a mock punch to Jonny’s chest, Ewan levers himself up on one elbow and grins down at him. “Luring young boys back to your…to their own flats and having your wicked way with them. You oughta be ashamed.”

“Ah, I’m found out,” Jonny sighs. “The real peril is now I know where you live.” He winks and leers, squirming a bit to get more comfortable on the narrow sofa. “Never know when I might turn up wanting to toss you off or God knows what.”

“God knows what, eh? Well, you could always do that later. If you want to stay, I mean. You can.”

“Yeah?” Jonny looks pleased. “That’d be all right, then. I’d like that.”

“Brilliant,” Ewan says, and then, sitting up and making a sweeping gesture towards tiny sitting room, adds, “Welcome to my humble abode.” He grins and nudges Jonny with his knee. “The bed’s nearly twice as wide as the sofa.”