"Bite chunks out of me, you're a shark and I'm swimming."

[starkhasaheart]

The interview had been changed from eight in the evening to five at the last minute. Robert had had all of an hour’s notice, which was annoying. It meant that the five o’clock dinner reservation had to be cancelled. It meant he had to find something to eat at home to tide him over until after, when he could catch a late dinner instead. He’s irritable when he shows up, but he tries to shake it off. It’s not long before he all but forgets his own inconvenience about the change in time because, as he chats with Tom as they’re getting the microphones set up and doing camera tests, it’s becoming apparent that the time change was more than just inconvenient for him. He asks him if he’s alright, and Tom says he’s fine, just fine. But he’s not fine. In fact, he’s far from it.

Robert was almost certain that no one else noticed it, but he had. Tom’s on edge in a way he’s never seen him, and if he didn’t know any better, he’d wonder if he was riding a particularly nasty drug high. But it’s not that kind of high, it’s something else entirely. Something that, from the looks of him, hadn’t gone as planned. Robert had wondered in passing if Tom was into, shall we say, kinky extracurricular activities. How could he not at least think it? To watch the man playing Loki was captivating, and he could see, in nuances of his performance, how he put something distinctly dominant into the role. Here again he feels like he might be the only one to see it, the only one to wonder — at least he thinks that anyone else who wonders has to be equally as familiar with the lifestyle as he is.

Robert knows from experience that sometimes people who are generally submissive can turn the tables (so to speak) with incredible skill. Either by switching, topping on occasion, or in acting, embodying the kind of Dom they look for, the kind of mannerisms and behaviors that really turn them on. Robert sees that in Tom, sees the sexuality that he brings to Loki, sees the darkness there and the desire in how he embodies what he wants to find. Maybe he’s found it. He’s found something, anyway, because from the looks of him today, he’d come in to the interview right out of the middle of a scene that he hadn’t had time to see through to the end. He’d certainly not had time to come back down, but as the interview is about to start, he’s not so sure that he’d even had time to finish. He’s out of it in such a strange way, like he’d been yanked right out of that moment where he starts to leave his body and forced to re-inhabit it without the release that let him come back down naturally.

He wonders if Tom knows that he suspects. If he does, there’s no way to talk about it now. All thought of how awkward the interview would be otherwise aside, he reaches over to let his hand simply rest against his upper back to soothe some of his jangling nerves. Not for the sake of the interview, but just to help him settle. He guessed that being unable to take the time to come back down, having to skip all of the aftercare, that he was in need of some simple touch, at the very least. It certainly seems to help, though he’s definitely different through the whole interview than he’s seen him before. Like he’s not quite sure of himself, not quite inside his own body quite right, and he keeps looking over at him, talking to Robert as though he needs the reassurance sometimes when he answers.

They’re nearly to the end and it seems as though Tom is doing better. He seems calmer, more himself, more able to focus, and so he pulls his hand away. He’d be lying to say that part of pulling away hadn’t been a kind of test, curious to see if he’d been right before and wrong now, to see if Tom was still desperate, still needed to curl into something outside of himself to quiet his nerves. And from the looks of it, he was. Practically the instant he pulls away, Tom is diving for his hand like he wants to pull his arm back around him like a blanket. Robert doesn’t give him the chance, just moves back to where he’d been, a soothing hand rubbing over Tom’s shoulder blade before settling there, thumb gently trailing back and forth.

But now he knows. In the next moment their eyes lock, he feels certain that Tom can tell. And if he can’t? Then he will. Because there’s no way he’s walking out of this interview without asking. Without ascertaining if Tom’s alright, if he has plans to finish this, and if not, if perhaps he can lend a hand, among other things he’d be willing to lend him.

Comments

[starkhasaheart]

He can practically feel the need coming off of Tom in waves. He agrees to the offer so fast and Robert can’t help but wonder if this was a really bad idea, but it’s already too late, so he nods in answer to that quick agreement. And he trusts himself to know that however much he wants this, he won’t abuse Tom’s vulnerable state. He’s going to make sure of what it is that he wants, and he’s also a pretty good read when it comes to things like this. And when it comes to Tom especially, apparently. He had, after all, figured out what was going on just from looking at him, from knowing him throughout the time they’ve worked together. For the record, he’d wondered about Tom’s extracurricular activities, thought they might be along these lines for a while. At least since that scene where Tom had to grab him by the throat and he’d finally pushed him to squeeze harder, in part to sell it for the camera, but it had definitely partly been to see his reaction because he’d suspected even then. His reaction hadn’t told him for certain that he was right, but the look he saw in his eyes as he gave him what he asked for seemed to him to be begging to have the tables turned. He wonders now if perhaps this is a conversation they should have had sooner. Robert doesn’t know about Tom’s arrangements, but it seems somewhat open and at the same time, somewhat inconsistent. Robert’s no stranger to inconsistency. He’s had some partners off and on, here and there, but none recently. It’s harder to keep a regular thing going with a busy filming schedule, and he’s let it fall by the wayside.

Then Tom asks that question, and while it definitely needed to be addressed, it wasn’t the next thing that Robert was going to ask, if it had been up to him. But then it’s there. His gaze drops over Tom’s body then, as if he needs to look at him again to know his answer, which comes low and not quite as evenly as he might have liked, “Yeah.” There’s a punch of emphasis in that single word answer that would suggest that’s an answer that would have been exactly the same if he’d asked him months prior, suggests that maybe Robert’s had an eye on him since the start.

The way Tom had asked that question was just dripping with need, and it would seem to leave no question as to Tom’s own feelings on the matter, but he’s still going to ask. As much about this as is compromised, he’s going to seize whatever he can make crystal clear. “Do you want me to fuck you?” he asks him then, seriously, and keeping his attention on Tom’s face, his eyes. “Because this can just be about the scene… impact play and whatever else you need. I’m not expecting anything from you that you don’t want to give.”

[hiddlesgasm]

It was sort of order of priority for Tom. Starting with the fact that Robert was -- like something out of those dark wet dreams he never talked about -- actually interested in taking him through a scene. Then was the question of whether he'd fuck him, if he'd touch him, although it wasn't necessarily the sex so much as establishing that he wanted to. He could, and had, done scenes without the sex. What he couldn't do, was scenes without that edge of desire, hands that wanted to feel his body as much as hurt him.

And then there's his answer: yeah. It's simple, but there's an emphasis to it that catches Tom's breath. He says it like it's hardly a thought, and for a moment Tom wonders if he's not the only one that's wanted. He doesn't remember for quite how long he's been attracted to Robert, but once they were working together, the tenor of it had changed. He was so vibrant, with that hint of darkness at the edges of his eyes, and Tom didn't dare to think he was actually into the lifestyle, but god he couldn't stop thinking of those strong hands wrapping his thin wrists in leather cuffs. Of what he'd look like when he was kneeling, or how his almost lazy voice would sound in between the snap of a riding crop. And Robert says yeah like it's maybe the most obvious question Tom could have asked.

And then Robert asks him back, and Tom looks at him, a rueful curve of his lips as he looks at him with those intense eyes, shadowed a little with desire. "You have to ask?" He shakes his head as Robert clarifies. "I don't want it to be just the scene," he murmurs, his voice low and hot. He can't resist reaching out, dragging thin fingertips against the sides of Robert's jaw with a look that says he knows he's crossing a line, that he's not supposed to touch.

A look that almost asks if he's going to punish him.

"I've wanted you almost since we started shooting," he admits with a flush that looks like it might be actual embarrassment. Like something he didn't quite mean to admit to, but he has no walls, no pretense, no ability to hide what he was in moments like this. "So, yes." There's a beat, a pause, the way he closes the distance so their bodies are almost touching, leaning in so the height difference isn't as obvious, so he can look into his eyes. Body contact like he might try and push him against the wall, but he doesn't. "I want you to fuck me when my skin's still stinging and there's tears in my eyes. I want your cock inside me like my only anchor and the only thing that still makes sense."

He takes a step back then, eyes glittering and a smile curving his mouth. "If you want."

[starkhasaheart]

Robert shouldn’t really be surprised to find that Tom is like this. Pushy, especially now when he’s so on edge, so wound up and desperate to be taken outside of himself so that he can fit back in his skin after. Robert has tried so hard to keep this part of it as level headed as possible. The space is neutral, and he’s keeping a safe enough distance, hands in his pockets, to keep Tom from having an easy way to take his hand, but also to keep himself from reaching out for him without thinking better, without being able to stop himself. He’d tried so hard, but they’re quickly leaving neutral territory here. Tom moves closer and though Robert probably should have stepped back to keep a buffer of space between them while they spoke, he didn’t. He held his ground as Tom comes in and caresses down the line of his jaw. Robert doesn’t move away, doesn’t flinch, just meets him with a narrow eyed gaze that says that this is something for which he’ll pay. That he’s keeping score, and this is one check mark against him.

But he doesn’t move to stop him, to push him away. He just lets it ride, sees how far Tom will step across the line, and waits to call him on it because he knows that he knows. The look in his eyes makes it clear that he’s playing, he’s toeing the line fully aware of what he’s doing. The man is damn near begging to be punished.

It’s not until Tom is moving in, crowding his personal space, practically plastering his long, lean body up against his that Robert starts to lose some of his cool. Not completely, but he feels it sway, feels Tom creep in beneath the surface, feels a flare of desire that doesn’t stop in the surge of warmth he feels in his chest, but continues downward, pulling at the front of his trousers. Tom’s blunt and forward, he’s lewd and explicit, and it takes him by surprise to hear it. To hear those words from a man he’s worked with, considered a friend, and it would be a goddamned lie to say that he wasn’t half hard in his pants right now. It’s all he can do to keep from obviously reacting, to stop himself from gasping at the image he paints with those words.

Then he moves back with a tease, playing coy like he’s a bloody cocktease. Like he thinks this is a game. If you want. Robert lets out a rather heavier breath than he’d realized he was holding. “Brat,” he scolds him, voice lower than it was the last time he’d spoken. But there’s a nod of acknowledging that, yes, he does want that, and yes, Tom’s message has come across loud and fucking clear.

He’s determined to finish the conversation before he lets this really begin, because someone has to, and it’s clear that Tom isn’t capable of it. After a breath, he says, “We’ll use the stoplight system. I’ll check in periodically to make sure you’re still okay… but I’m also going to use my judgment about how far is too far.” He doesn’t say it out loud, but he knows that it’s easy to get to a place where you’d agree to continue even when you’re not actually okay, and he trusts that he can recognize that line. He’s seen it before, navigated it before, and unfortunately, made the wrong call before. It’s not something he’s keen to repeat, but it would seem that he’s very good at reading Tom so he’s confident he’ll know if they get there. His hands are still in his pockets, and he jingles his keys, thinking. There’s probably more they should discuss, but he’s rapidly losing focus. It’s a good thing they have a drive ahead of them. It’ll give him time to cool off. Maybe.

“Alright,” he says before pulling out his keys and spinning them around a finger, “Come on, I’m driving.”