Disclaimer: I do not know any of these people, have no idea about their sexuality but suspect
Ian McKellen might possibly be gay. No profit is made nor offence intended.
Elijah Wood/Brendan Fraser - just cos
NC17 for sex and swearing
AN: Just another Elijah and a Big Man story
Ian was to blame for Elijah having to show up at one of those damned parties he usually avoided like the plague. His natural instinct would have had him wriggling away to go clubbing instead. But no, Ian asked him specifically and he never - well, rarely - refused Ian anything. After all, hadn't Ian introduced him to Patrick Stewart in Vancouver last year? And hadn't that been a hot, hot threesome? God yes.
But now he was there in the "Cadogan Suite" of a hotel stuffed with stuffed shirts and bri-nylon and cummerbunds... and he so wanted to just go home.
But then Ian was strolling over, unhurried, cigarette in hand. And he was smiling beatifically and Elijah forgave him everything. He even managed a wave at Mr. President of Big Film Studio Recently Conglomerated With Another Big Studio, smiled dutifully at Mr. Vice-President of Blockbuster Disaster Movies, and his doe eyed redheaded bimbo wife.
Ian leaned down slightly and kissed Elijah's cheek, very lightly. No one batted an eyelid - Ian was British, a thespian... Elijah did what he always did in public with Ian; he leaned into the gentle kiss almost imperceptibly. It was enough for the two of them. Random acts of full-throttle sex in private were one thing but in company they had perfected their elder statesman/adoring pupil act. Even Sean Astin believed it. Ha!
"So, Ian. Why did I have to come here tonight?" Elijah asked. The smoke from Ian's cigarette was making him long to light up himself, but he had promised his mother he would make one more attempt at stopping. His stomach cramped, though, his lungs expanding to inhale as much of the secondary smoke as he could. Ian put his arm tenderly around Elijah's shoulder.
"A friend of mine is here, touting a concept. He wants to try his hand at producing, has some really excellent ideas. He asked if you might be interested in one of his projects," Ian propelled Elijah through the throng. Elijah's heart sank. Another actor trying to be a producer... of course, there were some very good ones, but in the main they couldn't organise a piss up in a brewery, to use Bean's phrase. But he smiled graciously, allowing himself to be steered with a deft hand to a corner wherein was sitting a big man nursing a beer.
"Elijah, you have heard me talk about Brendan," Ian said, grinding his cigarette out in the chunky cut glass ashtray. The big man rose to his feet and towered over Elijah, extending a hand. Elijah took it. Of course he had heard Ian talk about Brendan, that was definitely an understatement. Ian adored Brendan...
Elijah looked up into big blue eyes. He did a quick itinerary - strong features, pouty mouth, broad shoulders... He quickly sat down next to Brendan, still holding onto that big, warm hand.
"Yes, Ian talks about you all the time," he said in what he hoped approximated a normal voice.
"I'll get us some drinks, back in a mo," Ian said and left. Ian had such great timing, Elijah thought. And a great choice in friends. Of course, Elijah knew of the body of Brendan's work, the good and the bad, the "Gods and Monsters" and the "Bedazzled" of his CV. He had always thought him attractive without giving it a lot of thought. With a start, he realised Brendan had been speaking. Words. A lot of words.
"... so, what I envisage is a down and dirty, totally realistic take on the whole thing. Should be radical, angsty and yet smart. What do you think?"
Elijah was thinking that Brendan had very good teeth, slightly imperfect... nice. Brendan leaned forward in his chair, hands clasped between his knees, shirt straining under a conservative jacket and over what had to be rippling muscles. Elijah loved the concept of rippling muscles. Muscles were made to ripple, it was their motivation.
"Pardon?" he asked, coming down to earth as he realised Brendan was waiting for an answer. "Well, I think it sounds fascinating. Just the kind of thing I see myself doing," he bluffed.
Brendan seemed mildly surprised, then very happy, slapping his thigh and beaming.
"I knew you would! Everyone thought I was crazy but I knew you would go for it. You, Elijah Wood, are one very cool and amazing person. And brave, very brave. I salute you." Brendan leaned back in his chair and clasped his hands behind his head, exhaling deeply.
Oh fuck.
Rewind. Focus. Ignore twinkling, dewy eyes and rippling muscles... concentrate. No, it wouldn't come. What the hell had he just agreed to? It didn't matter really, he supposed - this was an informal chat, not a contract negotiation. Still, he didn't like to let people down. And Brendan seemed so ecstatic, fidgeting in his chair, clasping his long hard thighs. He swallowed in an earnest way, trying to control his excitement. It just made Elijah even hornier to see Brendan all serious now, trying to contain his exuberance.
"I sort of see filming taking, maybe, six weeks max. Nature of the project means not a great deal of post-production. Costumes obviously not an issue. The script is just incredible, I mean we are talking awards-"
"Costumes not an issue?" Elijah interrupted. He was in a daze but not entirely stupid.
"As in there being none, really," Brendan said slowly. He frowned. "That is kind of central to the whole concept, Elijah. Does full frontal nudity bother you?" Now he was leaning in again, very close and Elijah could smell a subtle, musky cologne.
"Well, no. I mean, I don't think so. I just haven't done any before..." Elijah said, weakly. Oh he wanted to bridge that gap and plant a big wet kiss on Brendan's pretty mouth. He was vaguely aware that Ian had returned and placed drinks on the table. He didn't join them, however, muttering something about having to go collar some octogenarian playwright from Bratislava who owed him money. Elijah didn't believe it for a minute.
"I have a good handle on the financing, Elijah. Getting you onboard will secure a chunk of the rest. But billing may be an issue. I have to be honest about that. Would it be a big stumbling block for your people, the billing?" Brendan was talking words again but Elijah was hearing only half of them, enthralled as he was at the glimpses of pink tongue, the hairs curling on Brendan's white collar, the very big feet which he tapped nervously on the carpet between them.
"No problem, no problem at all. Just get your people to talk to my people. No worries," Elijah wondered how he was going to get Brendan alone. He had to be alone with him.
"You really are a very accommodating guy, you know that? No edge to you at all! I mean, Ian said you were but... I must be getting cynical, been in the business long enough now to constantly expect the bullshit to appear at any moment... but you're just in it for the work, you know." Elijah was startled to see what looked suspiciously like a tear threaten to plop down Brendan's beautiful cheek. What the fuck? Now he squirmed in his seat.
"Well, yes, I want to make movies which will have resonance in the years to come, which explore new territory... I want to work with directors of vision... goes without saying, Brendan. I don't want to be just known as Frodo." He risked patting the big man's knee, half expecting to be repulsed, to have the knee jerked away from him. It wasn't.
"Elijah, you are a revelation," Brendan whispered. The room full of people had disappeared and it was just the two of them plotting and planning the glorious future of indie cinema in a dark corner of the Cadogan Suite; conspirators in cinematic endeavour. Elijah caressed Brendan's knee, his eyes fixed firmly on Brendan's.
"We can make this happen," Elijah breathed. "Let's make it happen, Brendan. The movie and..."
"And?" Brendan asked, blinking, then he took a deep breath and his eyes darkened a shade, one eyebrow shooting up into the roots of his scalp. "Are you propositioning me, Elijah?"
Oh. Not good. Elijah had always been careful, had never risked actual rebuff. He was usually on the receiving end of such attention so there was little need to rationalise it or worry about being wrong. He lifted his hand from Brendan's knee.
"Because if you aren't, well that's okay with me," Brendan said, unsmiling, his voice low and deep. "But if you are - that's even better."
"What was it like, making The Mummy?" Elijah asked. They were heading towards the bank of elevators as quickly and discreetly as possible, walking close but not glued together.
"Hot." Brendan replied, pushing the button. "Hot and dry. But Rachel was fun. And Arnold is one hunk of man. We had some, shall I say, nice downtime during filming. Would you believe, though, he fancied himself as the reincarnation of some long lost Pharaoh - expected me to join him in his hot little fantasies about concubines and stuff."
"Oh, that's just sick," Elijah grimaced, following Brendan into the elevator. They were the only occupants and he was oh so tempted to barrel into the big guy and pin him against the mirrored interior, but this was an express elevator and there was simply no time. He locked eyes with Brendan's reflection and they both smiled.
Brendan's suite was as impersonal as expected. He was obviously a pretty neat guy, Elijah noted, looking around.
"So, Ian and you?" he asked, taking the glass of scotch offered him and sitting on the big comfy sofa. Brendan sat next to him and they clinked glasses.
"No, no Ian and me. Just friends. Good friends. I learned a lot from Ian, and I don't mean in the way you think," Brendan said, wistfully. "He's an amazing guy." He took hold of Elijah's hand and raised it to his mouth, planting a soft kiss on the palm.
"Yes, yes he is. We are agreed we are both in awe of Ian..." Elijah sipped his drink.
Brendan took the glass out of Elijah's hand and placed it carefully on a coaster on the side table. With agonising slowness, he began to unbutton Elijah's shirt. Whether it was the scotch settling in his stomach or the warm hand which was now teasing his nipples, Elijah wasn't sure, but he felt an incredible sense of well-being and utter relaxation, which was at odds with his heavy cock. He reached up and pulled Brendan down on top of him on the sofa. Elijah adored weight, the sensation of being pinned down, and Brendan had everything he needed in that department. He worked his fingers through the older man's dark tresses, holding his head so their eyes locked.
"You're very beautiful, you know that?"
"I don't know about that, I think I'm pretty funny looking, actually," Brendan replied. He flicked his tongue out to caress Elijah's nose, swipes which worked down until he was licking Elijah's mouth, lips on lips, teeth on teeth. Elijah felt himself being lifted slightly so that Brendan could encircle him fully, working his back with large, agile fingers. Automatically, his legs opened to accommodate his partner. They kissed; deep, lingering kisses which developed as they grew accustomed each to the needs of the other. Elijah had been kissed by experts, but this was something else.
Reluctantly, they separated so that they could shrug out of their remaining clothes. Naked, Brendan was superb and Elijah felt, as he always did when making out with big men, well, small. Not below the belt: he was pretty confident about that, but everywhere else. Holding hands, they made their way over to the bed.
"Elijah, look at you. So supple, so smooth..." Brendan lost his train of thought. "When we're working on the project, we'll be able to spend lots of time together. Does that excite you or worry you?" Elijah loved the vulnerable side of Brendan.
"Are you kidding? We get to do this on a regular basis. And that might worry me?" He reached up and cupped the big man's shapely jaw, then climbed into his lap, straddling his meaty thighs.
Brendan nuzzled Elijah's neck, caressing his nipples and kneading the flesh of his back. For his part, Elijah concentrated on Brendan's gorgeous biceps, his chest, everywhere that muscles shimmied underneath smooth, tanned skin. He squeezed his hand down between Brendan's thighs and began to stroke his cock, tentatively at first and then with the whimpered sounds of approval, with more urgency and delight.
"Have you got anything?" he gasped, struggling to get closer to Brendan's questing fingers which were now itemising the cheeks of his ass. "You know, lube?"
Brendan pulled away and stared hard into Elijah's eyes. Now Elijah worried he had overstepped another mark, been presumptuous... but Brendan was smiling, and reaching over to extract a sachet from underneath his pillow.
"You were pretty confident you'd score tonight," Elijah said, slightly uneasy. "Or is that all part of your basic boyscout training?" He shifted on the bed.
"A bit of both. Ian said he had got you to come tonight, and I just figured I might get lucky and get you to come tonight..." Brendan smiled, tearing open the precious sachet. "Shall I do the honours?"
Elijah licked his lips ravenously. "Oh please do. How do you want me?"
Brendan laughed, which caused some of the lube he had on his fingers to drip on the coverlet. "You mean, how do you want me?"
Elijah's eyes opened wide. "You bottom?" he asked, incredulously. All those muscles, that height, those broad shoulders... instantly, he regretted it. Brendan looked crushed.
"I like being the receiver, but if it's a problem, Elijah..." he said, and to Elijah he suddenly looked very young for his thirty five years, and sad. Immediately, Elijah wrapped his arms around the big guy, holding him tight.
"No problem. I can top, I can... just don't get the chance very often..." he cooed, rubbing Brendan's back. Now, how to do this? He felt like a novice jockey being given the reins of a thoroughbred. Luckily, his cock seemed taken with the idea and was good and rigid. "Lube me up, Brendan, I'm going in," he said, decisively.
Brendan brightened considerably and began to apply sticky lubricant to Elijah's cock, making welcome noises of appreciation about its size and shape and weight. Elijah found himself wondering why he didn't top more often, or, indeed, ever. Now, should he blow Brendan first...?
But his partner was being assertive again, turning onto hands and knees and presenting a very firm ass for Elijah's delectation and delight. Elijah assumed the position at the rear and inserted a lubed finger into the beckoning hole, perhaps a little too eagerly, given the way Brendan jerked and bent his head round to glare. "Sorry," Elijah said, bashfully. He tried again, aiming for smooth and steady and making the grade this time round, judging by the girly squeak emanating from the top of the bed. He pushed a second finger in and allowed both digits to roam around in Brendan's ass for a little while, bending and stretching, limbering up the arena.
Dom liked to go in on a smooth glide and Elijah had always liked that. Ian preferred a go-stop-go, feel-your-way round approach, and Elijah liked that, too. So, bringing all his vast experience as a bottom to the fore, Elijah entered Brendan in what he hoped would become known as the "Elijah Manoeuvre".
"Yeeeeeees," Brendan keened, clutching at the sheets. Marvellous! Elijah thrust in a little more, then deeper until he was sucked in and welded to Brendan's ass for probably the rest of his natural life. In this position, he could caress Brendan's back, plant little kisses in the sweat trail. Outside in the hotel corridor, a drunk was proclaiming his love for someone called "Cindy" and Elijah and Brendan giggled, but it was only a temporary lull. Elijah pumped in and out, carefully, steadily. His mount was snickering a little beneath him, tiny mewly gasps which could have been of pleasure or pain, it was hard to tell.
When Elijah bottomed, which was always, he found himself occasionally exasperated at times - like, how difficult could it be to maintain a nice rhythm and achieve some degree of endurance whilst shagging? Now he realised he had totally underestimated the power of the clutch, the irresistible urge to go harder, deeper, faster... Beneath him, Brendan was moaning, the back of his neck turning a suffused shade of red which alarmed Elijah at the same time as it spurred him on to greater effort.
"Coming..." he cried out, unable to resist any longer, urging his cock into one last heroic charge. Brendan arched his back, groaning as he felt the wave hit. Elijah saw stars, constellations of stars, felt his body emptying into Brendan completely. He collapsed, Dom-like, across the big man's spine, laying his cheek on Brendan's damp back, sighing deeply. Look at me; Ma, I'm a Top, he thought weakly, before closing his eyes.
He felt himself being shifted, Brendan turning and easily dislodging him from his perch. He was rolled over onto his back and then Brendan's full mouth was on his.
"That was good," Brendan said, smiling. God, he was pretty. Such blue eyes. Stop this now, Elijah Wood, you are not falling for this man. No, you are not.
"We should clean up and go back downstairs. You can shower first, I have a couple of calls to make," Brendan said, standing. Elijah realised he hadn't blown him, was mortified at his lack of manners, but the white snailtrail on the big man's belly told its own tale. Oh well, there would be other times...
Elijah waddled off to the bathroom, beaming. He caught sight of himself in the mirror and grinned.
"And Elijah, thanks again for agreeing to the production. I know you won't regret it, man," Brendan called after him.
"Smackhead Rentboy" will be your best work ever."
The End