You I Thought You Knew Me

~1600 words :: Jude Law/Ewan McGregor :: 3/31/10
Jude gets a few odd looks. Of course he does. He’d be more surprised if people didn’t stare. After all, he’s got three days worth of stubble and he’s wearing a push-up bra. He’s packing today, too, but the breasts tend to draw more attention than the crotch.

Jude gets a few odd looks. Of course he does. He’d be more surprised if people didn’t stare. After all, he’s got three days worth of stubble and he’s wearing a push-up bra. He’s packing today, too, but the breasts tend to draw more attention than the crotch.

A woman looks at him like she just got a whiff of something rotten and he scowls back at her until she looks away. Fucker. He should be able to wear a bra if he wants to. He shoves his hands in his pockets and tries not to think about how it’d only take a few minutes to run back to his flat and exchange the bra for his binder.

He spots Ewan then, and a few seconds later Ewan spots him, comes running over with a huge grin on his face and yells, “Judy!”

And Jude punches him.

Ewan clutches his jaw, gives him that wounded-puppy-dog look he’s so good at, and says, “I was just kidding.”

“Well, don’t.” Jude’s knuckles hurt. He’s never punched anyone that hard before. He’s glad he didn’t tuck his thumb under.

People are staring now. More than they were before. He grabs the sleeve of Ewan’s t-shirt and tugs him along. Ewan is still massaging his jaw. Jude thinks about it turning purple, about how pretty it will look on Ewan’s pale skin.

At some point, he’s let go of Ewan’s sleeve and taken his hand instead, clutched it tightly.

Finally Ewan says, “I’m sorry,” and Jude says, “I know,” and loosens his grip on Ewan’s hand.

“I wasn’t thinking.”

“I know,” Jude says again, automatically. “I don’t want to talk about it.”

And that’s part of the problem, isn’t it?

He lets go of Ewan’s hand, hooks his thumbs in his pockets. “You hungry?”


“Anything in particular you want?” He glances sidelong at Ewan, who just shrugs.

They end up getting McDonald’s. It leaves Jude’s stomach feeling queasy, but Ewan wolfs down two burgers and almost all of Jude’s chips as well as his own. It’s hard to stay pissed off watching him.

He knocks his knee against Ewan’s under the table and Ewan grins at him, then winces and pokes gingerly at his jaw. It shouldn’t be hot. Not when Jude hit him out of anger. His body doesn’t seem to care, though, if the rush of heat to his crotch is any indication.

He wants to take Ewan back to his, spread him out on the bed and pinch and bite and suck at his skin until he’s covered in bruises. His cheeks go hot and he twists a napkin to pieces while Ewan finishes his Coke.

Ewan leans back in his chair, his shirt riding up as he stretches. “When’s your class?”


“What time’s it now?”

Jude digs in his pocket for his mobile and glances at the screen. “Half one. D’you have to get back to work?”

“Nah. They changed my shift again.” Ewan pops off the lid of his Coke and starts crunching on the ice. “Mornings only on Tuesdays.”

“Not really time for a film,” Jude says, starting in on another napkin. “Is there anywhere you want to go? Or…”

Ewan raises his eyebrows. “Or?”

It’s stupid to beat around the bush about it, but Jude feels his cheeks heating up again and he shrugs. “Or we could, uh. Go back to mine.”

Ewan claps a hand over his mouth and says loud enough for people to turn and stare, “Why you naughty boy! What are you suggesting?”

“Ewan!” Jude glares at him. “Keep it down!”

Grinning, Ewan stands and picks up his tray. He’s not even paying attention to anyone around them. “Well?”


“I’m going back to your place, are you joining me or what?”

Jude gets up slowly, hunches his shoulders as if that makes his chest any less obvious. He empties his tray into the bin and keeps his eyes on the ground as he follows Ewan to the door.

He doesn’t notice the kids til they’re brushing past him, a couple boys maybe fifteen, sixteen. One of them look Jude up and down, lip curled, and says, “What the fuck are you?”

“Hey!” Ewan whirls around, already reaching for the kid, but Jude just mutters don’t and pushes Ewan out the door.

“Let’s just go,” he says, heart racing. “Let’s just go.”


Please,” he says, and Ewan drops it, but he gives Jude that stupid wounded-puppy look again that makes Jude want to kick him.

Jude crosses his arms over his chest, doesn’t look back until they’re halfway down the street. There’s no sign of the kids, but his heart’s still pounding. Ewan slides an arm around his waist, kisses the corner of his jaw and says, “You look really hot, you know.”

“Thanks,” Jude mumbles.

“I should’ve said.”

Jude stiffens and Ewan says, “Now what?”

“Nothing,” he says, because he doesn’t want to know if it’s some weird girls-like-compliments thing or what. He pulls away a little and straightens up. He hooks his thumbs in his pockets and glares at everyone who looks at him funny.

It only takes a few minutes to get back to his flat. Ewan stands behind him at the door, hands on Jude’s hips and lips on the back of his neck. It takes him three tries to get the key in the door.

“D’you want a drink or something?” he says when they’re inside.

“I want you,” Ewan says, grinning. “Does that count as something?”

His mouth is on Jude’s before Jude can think of anything to say that doesn’t sound totally stupid, and then he’s backing Jude up against the wall, undoing Jude’s belt and jeans and tugging them down around his knees. He cups Jude’s packer through the lace, and Jude can’t remember if Ewan’s seen him packing before. Maybe in jeans or his usual boxer briefs, but not like this. Not this exposed.

But Ewan barely pauses, pulling Jude’s knickers down quickly, the packer falling out onto the carpet. Ewan drops to his knees, presses a kiss to Jude’s belly and grins up at him, eager as always. Jude runs his fingers through Ewan’s spiky hair and pushes his head down further, hard already and so wet Ewan’s fingers slide in easily. He moans when Ewan wraps his lips around his cock, his head falling back against the wall with a thunk. Ewan works his tongue and his fingers, and Jude tightens his grip on Ewan’s hair, heels coming up off the ground as he strains forward. His thighs are so tense they’re trembling.

He’s silent when he comes, his whole body going slack as he slumps against the wall. Ewan stops sucking but waits until his dick stops pulsing to pull off.

Jude’s hands are sticky with whatever Ewan puts in his hair. He wipes them on his thighs and pulls his t-shirt over his head while Ewan shoves his jeans and knickers the rest of the way down. Ewan gets up then and starts getting undressed, and Jude steps out of the tangle of shoes and jeans and knickers and leaves everything in a pile, pulling his socks off on the way to the bedroom.

He stumbles and narrowly misses falling and cracking his head on the coffee table, and Ewan grabs him from behind to steady him, arms wrapped around his waist, dick hard against his arse. Ewan cups one breast hesitantly, like he’s not sure if he should or maybe just not sure what to do. Jude turns in his arms and kisses him, reaches down for Ewan’s dick, and he does know what to do.

When they’re on the bed, Jude on his hands and knees and Ewan rolling on a condom behind him, Ewan says, “I’ve never fucked a guy wearing a bra before,” and Jude says, “You’re not wearing one now.”

Ewan snorts and works his lube-slick fingers into Jude’s arse. He’s quick about it, just in and out and then a pause to lube his dick before Jude feels the head of it nudging at his arsehole. Jude pushes back against it, inhaling sharply as Ewan presses in, stretching his hole tight. This is the best part, the part where there’s nothing different. Nothing different about him, nothing different about what they do.

Ewan grips his hips tightly, fucking him hard and fast, and Jude bites his lip until he can’t stand it anymore. Burying his face in the pillow, he reaches down and rubs frantically at his dick. He comes before Ewan, clenching tight around him and making him gasp, and Ewan doesn’t last much longer.

Afterwards, Ewan pulls him close, lips pressed to the back of his neck and one leg hooked over Jude’s. They’re both too sweaty for it to for it to really be comfortable, but Jude doesn’t mind. He waits until Ewan’s breathing is deep and even, until he’s half-asleep himself, before he says, “I’m sorry. About earlier.”


“For hitting you.”

“Oh,” Ewan says, like he didn’t expect an apology. He trails his fingers over Jude’s belly and yawns. “Don’t worry about it.”

“My dad still calls me Judy. It’s…” Ewan’s yawn is catching, and Jude falls silent afterwards, then finally says, “He says I’ll always be his little girl.”

“I don’t think you’re a girl.”

“I know.”

“I don’t fuck girls.”

“I know.”

“I won’t call you that again. Not even as a joke.”

Jude smiles, twists around to kiss the bruise forming on Ewan’s jaw. “Thanks.”

Read the sequel: The Best Way to Be Happy.