Anonymous asked: Hi. Gormitage. After the Hobbit, the cast move on to other projects. Dean has signed to do a little indie film where he plays a gay character (again) and his lover? No other than his own old cast member Richard Armitage. Richard is nervous since this is his first time playing a gay character. Dean helps him relax and 'get into character'. After the 'love scene' Richard can't ignore his new feelings toward Dean and the tightness in his jeans. :-)
A/N: Aye aye, anon! I’m always all too happy to write Gormitage, teehee. I turned this into a five-parter, coz it was just easier to tell much more of the story that way. It’s also a lot less smutty than I had first planned, but I’ll remedy that in the future. :P
Also: to everybody else, I’m going to be very busy this entire week, and I’ve got a backlog of prompts like you wouldn’t believe. So for now, I’m temporarily closing prompts. I need to focus at work (which is when I have the most time to write fic, LOL), and also I have to catch up on the prompts first. Watch this space to know when I’m going to open prompts again. Thanks for reading my fics, everyone!
Richard is happy. Immeasurably happy. It’s a good script, a good role and a good cast, at least so far as his co-star is concerned. Dean is not only a familiar face, he’s a close friend. They already have chemistry, and they’ve already worked together before. Somehow, Richard thinks things will be loads easier this time around without all the Dwarf make-up, hair and costume between them.
“…And that’s when he gives in and kisses him.”
Except for that part.
Richard has no problems at all with homosexuality in general. He’s got friends that are gay, for fuck’s sake. But this is his first gay role ever. EVER. And the interaction between his and Dean’s characters don’t stay completely chaste for very long after they meet. Their characters kiss. Several times. Their characters make love. Twice.
Richard supposes it shouldn’t probably be a problem. He’s done those kinds of scenes before. Just…not with another man. He knows no one would peg him as gay just by looking at him, or running down the roster of characters he’s played in the past 5 years alone. And that’s where the problem truly lies. That’s what’s making him nervous. What if it doesn’t work? What if it isn’t believable because he’s worrying about what it must look like?
He looks across the table at Dean, who is taking in everything with the calmest expression on his face. When he sees Richard looking, he offers him a tiny wave and a little smile. “Later,” he mouths, pointing to his watch. Richard nods, understanding.
It’s a good cast, at least as far as Dean is concerned.
“No, you really don’t wanna do that, mate,” Dean says through a mouthful of muffin.
“Why not?” Richard asks, sipping from his coffee, “Wouldn’t it be good exposure?”
Dean shakes his head. “Not really,” he replies, “Those kinds of scenes never look the same in anything they’re done in. I’ve done my fair share of them, and none of them look like each other, trust me. It’s different for every project. It’s really easiest to just go with the flow. Besides, the early 90’s wasn’t a good look for me, hehe.”
“Weren’t you nervous?” Richard inquires, picking at his French toast with his fork, “When you did your first gay scene?”
“Sure,” Dean shrugs, picking up his napkin and dabbing at the bottom of his lip, “All the questions are there. ‘What’s everybody going to think?’ ‘Does this look good?’ ‘Is this really what happens?’ Things like that. But if you dwell, you’ll definitely not get anything done. You tend to get used to it after a while. I think the key is to not think about it from the perspective of two men, but from the perspective of two people. That’s where the reality is.”
“Don’t you mean ‘realism?’” Richard chuckles, but Dean shakes his head with a tiny grin.
“No, I mean ‘reality,’” Dean confirms, “Realism is an impression. Reality is the truth. Find the truth in the relationship, and you’ll be just fine, you’ll see. We’ll help each other out, no worries.”
Dean gives him a bright, reassuring smile. Dean holds out his fist over the table, and Richard meets it with his own, chuckling a little as Dean makes a fake explosion with his hand, complete with a fake explosion noise. Richard can’t help the smile on his face, believing that, somehow, everything will be okay.
Re-writes aren’t new anymore to Dean and Richard, especially not after having worked on a Peter Jackson movie, where re-writes could come as early as a week before, or as late as the morning before the scene is to be shot. So when they both leave the set that day with re-writes for their first romantic scene to be shot in two days, they’re the only ones not really panicking.
Still, Richard is tense. He had spent the time leading up to the day trying to convince himself to “find the truth,” as Dean had advised him, but had been having difficulty wrapping his head around the image of himself kissing another man.
The thought of him kissing Dean, however, is much easier to accept. He’s warm, intelligent, friendly and thoughtful, and he’s definitely enjoyed falling in love with him.
Richard keeps forgetting to include that phrase. “Pretending to fall in love with Dean.” Well, Dean’s character. There’s hardly any difference anyway, because it seems like the role had been tailor-made for Dean that it’s sometimes hard to tell when he’s still acting in the scene. Or maybe Dean is just trying to ease him into the whole thing by giving Richard someone familiar, or easier to connect to. Either way, Richard finds that saying “falling in love with Dean” is a lot easier to say than “pretending to fall in love with Dean’s character.”
He knocks on Dean’s hotel room door, and within seconds Dean is standing in the open doorway, grinning in that way that’s so innately Dean. “Hey, you came,” Dean greets warmly, stepping aside to let Richard through, “Thought you might be too tired or something.”
“I’m fine,” Richard replies, “I needed this anyway. It’ll be easier on the day, I think.”
“I think so too,” Dean says, closing the door behind Richard.
Over dinner, they talk about the changes to the scene, discussing how best to play it, and how their characters should interact. Dean talks about his character’s emotions and thought processes so intimately and so truthfully that Richard can’t help but listen and let him keep talking. Dean is mesmerizing like this. It’s clear to him that Dean loves this character. Dean is mesmerizing like this. It’s more than just an acting job to him, it’s an art form. Reality over realism.
“How are you feeling about the end of the scene?” Dean asks Richard, bringing him out of his reverie.
“Fine,” Richard says with a small nod, “I think.”
“Are you sure?” Dean replies, “Coz we can talk about it, if you want to.”
Richard laughs a little. “ I think that might make it a little worse,” he answers, “It’s like you said, it’s easier to not think about it, and just let it flow. It can’t really be that big of a deal, can it?”
Dean cocks his head a bit to one side, regarding him with slightly squinted eyes. Richard finds he can’t look him in the eye while he’s doing that, so he settles for Dean’s mouth, until he realizes the irony of training his gaze on the exact thing they were just talking about.
Dean gets up from his chair, and tells Richard to do the same. When Richard looks askance at him, he repeats the urge again. “Trust me,” Dean adds.
Richard does. He stands up, and lets Dean move him until they’re standing in front of each other. “Close your eyes,” Dean tells him.
“Why?” Richard asks, but chuckles.
“Just do it,” he says simply, “Close your eyes, Richard.”
Shrugging compliance, Richard closes his eyes. Richard gradually becomes very conscious of the silence of the room, of the closeness between the two of them, of the intimacy of the moment. He feels Dean take his wrist, and place his hand over his chest. Dean’s hand finds Richard’s own chest.
“You feel that?” Dean says softly, “That’s my heartbeat. I can feel yours too. That’s what matters, because that’s what’s real. And so is this.”
Dean’s lips meet Richard’s softly, only slightly uncertain. When Dean’s lips slide along Richard’s gently, sweetly, Richard kisses him back, finding it almost too easy to lose himself in the moment. Dean’s hand moves slowly up Richard’s chest until it’s clutching at the back of his neck, and Richard feels and hears him sigh as the kiss deepens. Richard holds Dean closer, pressed so deeply together that it would not surprise him if they melded into each other at that point. He has never been kissed like this before by anyone. His mind and his pulse are racing, but at the same time he feels blissfully numb and light. That, he thinks, accounts for how Dean manages to maneuver them both until he has pinned himself between Richard and the wall. The kiss intensifies, consuming Richard’s thoughts and coherency. But when Dean tugs at Richard’s shirt, his palm finding contact with Richard’s muscled torso, Richard wrenches himself away from the kiss, regretting the action almost immediately.
“I can’t…” Richard breathes, “Dean, I don’t…”
Dean’s shoulders drop, and it seems to Richard like he’s fighting to keep disappointment from showing on his face. “No, of course you don’t,” Dean says, letting go of him, “That’s…That’s kind of the whole point of you being here tonight, isn’t it?”
“No, it’s not that,” Richard reassures him, “I just…Something’s happening right now, and I don’t quite understand it just yet. I think…I may need time.”
“….Oh,” Dean replies quietly, “Time. Yeah, of course. That was silly and presumptive of me. I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to —”
“Don’t be sorry,” Richard answers, giving him a tiny grin, “Please. I’d be lying if I said I didn’t like it. It was…easy. Easier than I thought it would be.”
Dean’s expression changes, but Richard can’t quite explain it. “All the same,” Dean says, “I should probably let you go home now, before this gets awkward.”
“Yeah,” is all Richard can think to say. Neither of them moves for what feels like an eternity but was only really a couple of seconds. In that small space of time, Richard seriously considers kissing Dean again, just to get that feeling of warmth and lightness back, but then Dean is moving away to the table to clear it away.
“I’ll see you in the morning then?” Richard offers, trying to dissipate the tension in the air between the two of them.
Dean looks up at him, and gives him a warm smile. “Sure,” he answers, “See you in the morning.”
Richard leaves, and as the door clicks behind him, he thinks he might have just figured himself out.
It had not been an easy day for either of them.
The morning had gone on just fine, but after lunch, they had to shoot their characters’ first bedroom scene. They both knew all too well that there was nothing glamorous, sexy or particularly romantic about simulating such an intimate act in front of at least 10 other people, one or two of which are directing the moment, telling them when to start and when to stop, and when to start again. They’d had a few laughs together in between takes, that’s for sure, but the technical aspect of it had made things pretty damn awkward.
No, they hadn’t spoken about that night in Dean’s hotel room either. It had happened over two weeks ago, and between then and today, they’d already kissed a few times for the cameras. But not once – not once – has Dean brought it up again. As a matter of fact, he acts like it didn’t happen at all. Richard can’t understand how Dean manages to do that, not when it weighs on his mind every single time they shoot a kiss. With each kiss, Richard remembers how soft Dean’s lips had been that night, how familiar it had felt, how perfectly Dean’s body fit into his, how warm and pliable he had been, especially when they were against the wall. None of their onscreen kisses have felt as intimate and as real as that moment, and Richard found himself trying to get that feeling back, but unable to explain why it just wasn’t happening in front of the cameras.
Today though…Today continues to be hell on his brain.
Richard’s trying to get some sleep now, but all he can think about is Dean. They had been naked in bed together all afternoon, with modesty patches covering their cocks in case the sheets slipped off. Richard hadn’t thought that he would be worrying about anything showing until they started shooting. Dean had started to move underneath him, looking him right in the eye, moaning and groaning with unabashed need. He had clawed and clutched at Richard, his legs locked tight around him as their skin rubbed together. When they had taken a shot over Richard’s shoulder of Dean moving down his body to go down on him, Dean had looked up at him with such seemingly real lust in his eyes that when Dean’s lips touched his belly, there had been some degree of truth in the moan that Richard had let out, and it had taken every bit of Richard’s strength to keep himself in control. Dean had found it easy to crack jokes after the director called cut on every take, but Richard’s thoughts had been all over the place.
He had been relieved to finally be wrapped for the day, and had locked himself in his hotel room since arriving there. A cold shower had not helped at all, and now he’s lying in bed, eyes closed tight as he begs sleep to come and take him, but to no use. With the memory of Dean and Dean’s body and Dean’s voice and Dean’s kisses fresh in his mind, his hand moves slow and tight on his erection, and the better it gets, the more he’s whispering Dean’s name into the cold air around him. But it’s when he brings up the memories of their very first kiss, in Dean’s hotel room, that it starts to get really good. He tightens his grip, and quickens his wanking, and when he comes with a hard growl, it’s to the memory of Dean breathing out his name desperately, even though he can’t remember when that happened.
By the time his orgasm has died down, and he feels sleep starting to creep up on him, Richard has finally found his reality.
Dean can’t keep the surprise off his face when he opens his door to find Richard standing there, a divine smile on his face.
“Hello,” he says brightly.
“Hello,” Richard greets back. Then without another word, he bends and kisses Dean deeply, and all Dean can do is let him. They make it past the threshold, one of them managing to actually shut the door, before Dean’s back collides with the wall, his front pressed into Richard’s, for the second time in a month. Richard kisses him hotly, hands roaming Dean’s body until he’s pulling his hips towards his, pressing a knee between Dean’s legs.
“Oh God,” Dean breathes against Richard’s mouth, “Richard, what’s happening?”
“Don’t ask me yet,” Richard says breathlessly, “I don’t want to think just yet.”
“Good idea,” Dean replies, pulling him down for another kiss, just as needy as the first. His hand moves down until he’s cupping the hardening bulge in Richard’s pants, and he can’t help but smile a little when Richard gasps.
“Is that for me?” Dean asks, amused.
“Only if you want me to be,” Richard tells him sincerely, looking him in the eye.
Dean chuckles. “You oblivious little shit,” he laughs, “I’ve wanted you longer than I can say.”
“That’s real, is it?” Richard asks him.
Dean just smiles, taking Richard’s hand and placing it above his heart. “I can’t even tell you how real it is,” he promises.
“Show me, then,” Richard tells him, “Show me how real it is.”
Before the night is over, neither of them are left in any doubt.
~ END. ~
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