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elrhiarhodanTitle: Five Times Tim DeKay Touched Matt Bomer's Ass
Author:![[livejournal.com profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/external/lj-userinfo.gif)
elrhiarhodan
Fandom: White Collar
Rating: R (Sexual content, but no graphic descriptions)
Characters/Pairings: Tim DeKay (as a fictional character), Matt Bomer (as a fictional character), other people associated with White Collar, Magic Mike, and other movies and television shows, as fictional characters.
Spoilers: None
Warnings/Enticements/Triggers: None
Word Count: ~4000
Beta Credit:coffeethyme4me
Summary: Seriously - five times that Tim DeKay touched Matt Bomer's (perfect) ass.
Written for Promptfest VII, forcoffeethyme4me’s prompt – “Peter touches Neals’s ass”. I went RPS and then very literal.
__________________
I. It's a Kind of Magic
Technically, Tim didn't touch Matt's ass.
He had just rested his hand at the small of the other man's back as they were walking down the stairs on the White Collar office set - one of the walk-and-talks that were quickly becoming a hallmark of the show. He didn't think twice about it until they ran the dailies, and the camera focused for a few brief seconds on the placement of his palm on Matt's lower back and the way his fingers were spread so his pinkie looked like it was lined up with his …
His asshole.
Tim blushed hot and hard and hoped no one noticed.
He always understood that his sexuality was fluid, but this was - he swallowed hard - unacceptable. Matt was gay and while the people that mattered didn't care about it, they didn't because Matt kept his private life under wraps. Besides Matt was in a committed relationship, all but legally married. And he was legally married.
These thoughts flew out of his head when Matt turned around and grinned at him. “Look at you, the courtly gentleman!”
Tim smiled back weakly. “Sorry.”
“No, don’t apologize. I like it – it really sets a tone for the relationship.” Matt turned back to the monitor and Tim tried to relax.
But what kind of tone?
It was going to be bad, and Tim knew that he’d have to be very, very careful from now on.
:::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::
II. The Show Must Go On
This was supposed to be an important episode – the midseason finale. USA split their season into two parts – the first two thirds ran during the summer and the last third in the winter, usually starting up just before February sweeps. But because White Collar had only started airing in October, they weren’t looking at a long break, just a little more than a month between the two halves.
Eastin, their showrunner, was structuring the series around a season-long arc of mythology, and this episode, Free Fall was going to have an impact on how the show would continue through the back half and through next season – if they were renewed. The read was important - they needed to hit it out of the park.
But Matt was being a big goof today.
Normally, his co-star was extremely professional, in a good-humored way. Yet, today at the table read, he was all kinds of misbehaving. Tim (and everyone else) chalked it up to the stellar ratings for the premier. Out of the box, White Collar was going to be a huge hit and they were all feeling the love. But Matt was like a toddler on a sugar high, he was a little too exuberant, song-bombing the cast and crew with the lyrics to the Tom Petty classic, Free Fallin’, whenever there was even a moment's lull. Natalie, who had just a handful of lines in this episode, kept picking up the harmony, and they were altering the words in amusing and, well, unseemly ways.
Tim could have sworn he heard “free ballin’” substituted in the lyrics more than a few times. Yes, definitely, when both Sharif and Noah burst out laughing. Even their director, Kevin Bray, started to chuckle. Tim, himself, had a hard time keeping the smile off his face, and he had to admit it was clever as much as it was distracting.
Matt kept looking over at him, waiting for him to say something. They’d been working together for almost two solid months – five days a week, sometimes for fifteen hours a day. He liked Matt, liked him a lot, and their obvious on-screen chemistry was an extension of the bond he felt with the younger actor.
But sometimes, that chemistry threatened to become something else. There was always that thing he’d felt since the first weeks of filming - hell, since they shot the pilot. Tim could swear that Matty knew exactly what it was. And on days like today, he was playing up to it, stoking it.
Stroking it, damn it.
And I’m free, free ballin’ … Yes I’m free, free ballin’ Matt’s tenor and Sharif’s baritone mingled pleasantly, but the words set Tim on edge. In his head, he could see Matt’s … what – unit – swinging freely, bumping out against his tight wardrobe.
Kevin called the room to order, again, and they tried to run the scene, but Tim was too damn distracted, and wouldn’t you know that Matt was humming that damn song.
A little fed up, a little aroused, he turned to Matt and hissed, "Are you looking for a spanking?"
The room fell silent, no one breathed and Tim wondered if he just tanked his career. But Matty, beautiful, unstoppable Matty Bomer just turned back to him with a wide, irrepressible grin and said, "And I bet you're just the man to give it to me."
To Tim's shock and the room's delight, Matt stood up, pushed Tim's chair back and draped himself over his thighs.
"I'm ready when you are." Matt wriggled around, as if he were trying to get comfortable.
Tim looked around the room, and wouldn't you know, Tiffani started clapping and shouting, "Spank him, spank him." Of course, the rest of the cast joined in, even Matt - for chrissakes - and he had to.
He hit him, not really a spank, but not really just a tap either. His hand didn't linger, but in that quick contact, he could feel the heat through the soft fabric. Heat and muscle and oh my god, what the HELL was he doing?
"There! Are you going to be a good boy now?" Jeez, was that his voice, so deep, so stern? He sounded like … like - he didn't know what he sounded like, but it wasn't like he normally sounded.
Matt got up, graceful as a gazelle, rubbed his ass, took a bow and sat back down in his own chair. The tension in the room was broken and they fell back into the familiar rhythms of the table read.
Two hours later, when Kevin called "done" and everyone pushed back and left, Tim found himself still sitting at the table, at a loss.
"You okay?" It was Matt.
He closed his binder with a snap. "Yeah - just … fine."
"Hey - look, I'm sorry about before. Sometimes I get a little carried away."
Tim looked up. Matt's face was cast in lines of utter sincerity but something told him that his co-star was a little less than contrite. He licked his lips and smiled.
"You know, Matt, you do have a splendid ass. It's a pity that White Collar's a basic cable show, because it should be shared with the whole world."
Matty blushed and laughed. "Maybe it will, someday."
III. Another One Bites the Dust
Matt stretched and luxuriated in the hotel bed linens, tendons and joints popping. He turned and looked at Tim, who was still sleeping.
It had taken a surprisingly long amount of time and effort to seduce his co-star. Maybe because Tim was married and ostensibly straight, and also because he was so deliciously honorable that even if he had his wife’s blessing (which he did - she just wanted to see them kiss on occasion), that he wouldn't touch him without Simon’s approval.
And even then, it wasn’t a done deal. It had gotten to the point that Matt was wondering if Tim was just playing hard to get.
He could have gotten Tim drunk - but he suspected that Tim could drink him under the table and all the way to China. Besides, he wanted something more than sloppy groping – at least for the first time.
But last night, the stars were perfectly aligned. The panel presentation went exceptionally well, and he and Willie went off to play while Tim patiently sat for interview after interview. Then they got snagged by a photographer for TV Guide, and did an impromptu photo shoot - which was fun. The guy got them into all sorts of crazy poses, their heads together in a few, and one where they were in a clichéd "boyfriend-girlfriend" pose - with their hands in each other’s back pockets.
Matt doubted that one would ever see the light of day.
God - the memory of the feel of Tim’s hand through the well-worn denim was enough to send his dick a-twitching. He loved Tim’s hands - they were big and hard and strong and more than a little rough. The hand in his pocket seemed so innocent, until it cupped his muscles and squeezed for just a second.
He looked up and Tim winked and the camera flash blinded him. They changed poses for another set of shots, then the photographer wanted him for a few solos.
By the time he was finished, Tim was the one to wander off. Matt didn’t know if that was a good or a bad thing. He kept thinking about that brief contact - not even skin-on-skin - and that wink. Maybe Tim was finally coming around. Maybe …
Matt plotted and planned and found his way into one of the gaming rooms. There were a bunch of demos set up and the noise level was incredible. A few fans approached him and he absently autographed stuff, all the while looking for his co-star. Finally, someone said that he should head over to the DDR booth - maybe he and Tim could take a turn on the stage. He turned and saw Tim, head and shoulders above the crowd. Tim must have spotted him, because a huge smile blossomed on the man’s face, and Matt’s heart stuttered just a bit.
It took a little pushing and shoving to get across the room, but suddenly he found himself on the stage with Tim. And a little kid. Someone pushed a Wii controller into his hand and the music started.
Ke$ha’s voice in Tik-Tok throbbed and screeched and he didn’t really care about following the on-screen motions - it just felt so good to let it go. He hadn’t danced like this since his days as a bachelor in New York, hitting the clubs and rocking his body to the house music.
It was a good thing that that kid was between him and Tim (who was an utter dork as he tried to mimic the on-screen moves), because Matt might have forgotten where he was and done something he might have regretted. Particularly since he could see about a dozen smart phone cameras raised above the crowd on the floor, recording them for YouTube posterity.
The song came to an end; he handed his controller over to a staff member and left the stage. Tim looked so damn delicious, flushed and a touch sweaty and Matt wanted to bury his face in all the secret places on that man’s body - and the not so secret spot at the base of his throat.
They made their way out of the room. The relative quiet of the hotel corridor was a relief after the heat and noise of the game room.
“I think I’m done for the day. You?”
Matt had to agree. Comic-Con was fun but he didn’t think he wanted to spend anymore time here.
“There’s a shuttle to the hotel. Or we could walk?”
Tim grinned. “Where do you think we are, New York?”
They didn’t walk - even though there hotel was less than a mile, it was California and there were too many roads impassable for foot traffic.
Matt’s room was on twelve, but he stayed on until it reached the fifteenth - Tim’s floor. The other man didn’t even look at him; they just walked side-by-side until they reached the room.
Tim said nothing until the door was locked behind them.
“This could be a huge mistake.”
Matt knew that. “I don’t really care.”
Tim’s lips twitched, as if he were trying to suppress a smile. “I don’t quite believe you.”
“But …”
“But …” Tim’s eyes narrowed as the humor was replaced by something dark. Matt shivered. “Get out of those clothes and go kneel on the bed.”
Matt hurried to obey; this was going to be so much better than he’d ever hoped.
IV. I'm Going Slightly Mad
Matt wondered if he was going slightly mad. Or, as they might say back home, bug-nuts crazy.
He and Tim had this thing. Just in New York. Except for that one time in San Diego, where it all started.
But lately, they weren't really hooking up. It was a bad convergence with a storyline that kept them out of each other's scenes, a few weekends shuttling back to Los Angeles for work on In Time, a major annoyance since his on-screen time totaled less than fifteen minutes.
Tonight, though - he wasn't going to let anyone or anything keep him from Tim.
Except, apparently, Tim himself.
He rang the bell at Tim's Brooklyn apartment - a loft in the Red Hook area, and rang and rang. Of course Tim didn't answer, the moron had Hernando's Hideway playing at full volume. He was practicing for his big tango scene. The building was a recent conversion in a still relatively industrial neighborhood, and had only one tenant - Tim. No neighbors meant he could play his music as loud as he wanted, and obviously he was.
Matt waited until the song finished and leaned heavily on the button, and yes - Tim finally heard it.
The door lock buzzed and Matt let himself in and took the creaking elevator up to the third floor, and he could hear the opening bars of the tango over the grinding of the ancient gears.
It was quite a sight that greeted him as he stepped into the loft. Tim dancing around the wide open living space, his arms holding an invisible partner. He had done the blocking with Madchen this morning, and it hadn't gone very well. They were both stiff and a little ill at ease.
Matt couldn't put his finger on the problem, but it was almost as if Tim didn't like this week's guest star. Despite Jeff's enthusiasm for the episode, the idea of a humorous story about a serial killer wasn't cutting it. But that wasn't to say that the episode was falling flat - far from it. It was just that – well - a definite lack of chemistry and a poorly drawn character were combining to pull everyone down.
Tim was a consummate professional, and even if he had loathed Madchen (which he didn't), it wouldn't affect his performance. Which was why, after a full day of rehearsals and shooting, at ten to midnight, he was practicing his tango.
"Dance with me?" Matt stepped into the room as the music came to an end.
Tim smiled and it was like the dawn. He held out his arms and Matt walked into them. It felt so good, Tim's warm body against his from torso to thigh, pressing into him, forcing him back against his arm. The music started again and Matt wondered if he'd ever be able to hear Hernando's Hideaway ever again without feeling Tim's arms around him.
The song picked up tempo and they moved in perfect coordination, as if they'd been practicing. Well, in a way they had - wasn't the tango supposed to be an expression of dominant/submissive sex?
Matt's breath hitched as Tim swept his hand down from the traditional position at the waist, to cup his ass. God, that felt so damn good. Matt didn't know why - but from the very beginning - even before they were fucking - he loved Tim's hand on his ass. He loved the casual possessiveness of it, the feeling of being owned.
And Tim knew this and took advantage whenever he could. There were days that Matt was surprised that he hadn't destroyed his costume after Tim let his hand just rest there - at the sweet spot. High enough to be decent, just low enough to make him crazy.
Tonight, though - Tim wasn't worrying about being decent. He was pushing Matt around the room, working him into a frenzy. The music, pulsing like sex, left him breathless. When it finally stopped - again - Matt broke their embrace, and tried to steer Tim towards the sleeping area.
"Come on - enough is enough."
"You think?" Despite his words, Tim seemed to agree, stripping off his shirt and pulling Matt back into his arms, letting his hands rest on his hips. Matt casually pushed them back. To where they belonged.
On his ass.
V. Good Old Fashioned Lover Boy
"Remember when you said I had a splendid ass, and it should be shown to the whole world?"
Tim looked up from his script, mildly annoyed at the interruption. They were getting ready to shoot the episode he was going to direct, and his prep work was much more involved than usual. "Of course I do. I think I’d just spanked you, in front of everyone."
Matt grinned. "Of course, a man never forgets his first spanking, right?"
Tim shook his head, amused but puzzled. "Unless you're looking for a repeat performance, why bring that up now?"
"Do you remember what I said?"
Tim furrowed his brow, trying to recall Matty's glib answer. At the time, he'd been a little disturbed by his own intense reaction to the playful administration of discipline. In the years since, he had learned a lot about himself. It finally came to him. "You said - maybe, someday, it will."
Matt sat back, looking like he just won the lottery.
"What have you done?" Tim ran through the possibilities … an underwear campaign didn't seem quite Matt's style, and television had become much more conservative since the days when David Caruso bared his ass on NYPD Blue. "A movie with a nude scene?"
"Not quite." Matt tossed a script at him.
"What's this?" Tim looked at the cover page. "Magic Mike?"
:::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::
Matt wasn't sorry that he did Magic Mike, not by a long shot. His role was small - but unlike that waste of time, In Time, he got to play something other than a version of every role he had ever done. Ken was a sleeze and Matt reveled in it. Everyone, including himself, had made a big deal about the dance scenes and what they had to do to get ready for it - the interview he did with MTV about his wardrobe problems and the waxing was still making the rounds.
But it was the bedroom scene - with his wife, the drugs, the complete lack of morals - that made the movie worth doing.
That made for putting up with all of the good-natured shit from the White Collar cast and crew. Willie was doing a good job making him crazy - but at least the film crew got it on tape - and if there was any justice is the world, that little clip would make the gag reel for Season Four.
Tim had stayed above the fray - laughing with the gags, but not participating. There was a reason for that. A good one.
When he had told Tim about the role and all that it entailed, Tim extracted a promise from him. Of course, Matt had been tied up, on his knees and carrying his leash in his mouth.
Tim was going to get a private showing of any (and maybe all) of the routines that Matt had to learn and perform for the movie. At Tim’s convenience and pleasure.
The thing was, Matt had to be prepared – and by that – Tim didn’t mean that he had to be ready to perform at a moment’s notice. He had to be in the same condition he’d been in for the movie. In other words, his body needed to be just as smooth – his entire body. He had joked about waxing, but it wasn’t as bad as he made it out to be. Except for the Brazilian, but Simon had loved it so much that Matt had kept it up and honestly, it did get better. He just kept everything up – ass and legs as well as the pubes – and prayed that no one would notice. It wasn’t as if his wardrobe was going to put those areas on display.
They had wrapped the fifth episode late. It was a fun one – low angst and a nice change-up from their usual work, with a lot of location shots in Brooklyn; which was why he was ending the day at Tim’s Red Hook loft. Matt could have easily taken a car back to his apartment in Gramercy, but Tim had given him a look.
That look.
The one that made him just about pop wood in a heartbeat. “Tonight?”
Tim just nodded.
Early in the season, Matt had left the pieces of a costume at the loft, just to be ready: a Hawaiian shirt, a few pairs of tear-away pants and a peach-colored thong. Just what he needed for the “Living Doll” routine.
He had the key to the loft (just as Tim had one to his apartment), and was there before Tim. It didn’t take much to get ready – he’d done the EW photo shoot last week, a press tour and another round of interviews. So he was certainly in the right frame of mind.
He set some music to play - Paper Planes. It wasn't a track from the movie, but, as his grandmother would have said, close enough for government work. The beat was just right. He was good to go, all of the snaps and velcro on the tear-away clothes properly set and ready for the rip. He had warmed up, and his body was limber and weirdly alive. He hadn't felt like this when he was on the movie set - maybe it was because this was private, forbidden (well, not really - but sort of). Of course, there was anticipation of what would follow - particularly since Tim had such a thing for his ass.
On that thought, the elevator started to creak. Matt knew from experience that it would take about a minute to reach this floor. He dimmed the lights and reset the music, his breathing slowed and as Tim opened the elevator door, he started dancing.
He had the sweater draped around Tim's neck, pulling him into the room. It didn't take much effort to get him on his knees. Unlike the girl in the movie, Tim didn't pretend to mouth his cock, which was now stone hard. A few quick moves and he tossed away the shirt, toying with his nipples. That was just for Tim, an improvisation. He could hear his lover's growl of appreciation over the music.
He rocked his hips hard, bumping into Tim's mouth, and Neal hoped there'd be bruises tomorrow. When Tim reached up to grab his ass, Matt danced away. There was no "audience" to play to, and he took his time, bumping and grinding to the gunshots in the music before pulling off the white shorts.
He wasn't down to a thong quite yet - there were a pair of tiny red shorts to get rid of first. Matt took his time, always dancing out of reach of Tim's grabby hands. He adored taunting his lover like this, and he turned around, grinding his butt cheeks in his face. Tim wasn't waiting any longer - he pulled on the shorts - and Matt just danced away.
Tim's shocked expression was priceless - he didn't expect to be left with a handful of red spandex. Matt took pity on him and turned off the music. "Enough?"
Tim looked up at him, eyes glowing. He dropped the fabric and cupped his hands around Matt's ass, working his fingers under the straps of the thong and pulling it down, freeing his cock. "This …" He kissed him. "Is more than enough."
FIN
Author:
elrhiarhodanFandom: White Collar
Rating: R (Sexual content, but no graphic descriptions)
Characters/Pairings: Tim DeKay (as a fictional character), Matt Bomer (as a fictional character), other people associated with White Collar, Magic Mike, and other movies and television shows, as fictional characters.
Spoilers: None
Warnings/Enticements/Triggers: None
Word Count: ~4000
Beta Credit:
coffeethyme4me Summary: Seriously - five times that Tim DeKay touched Matt Bomer's (perfect) ass.
Written for Promptfest VII, for
coffeethyme4me’s prompt – “Peter touches Neals’s ass”. I went RPS and then very literal. I. It's a Kind of Magic
Technically, Tim didn't touch Matt's ass.
He had just rested his hand at the small of the other man's back as they were walking down the stairs on the White Collar office set - one of the walk-and-talks that were quickly becoming a hallmark of the show. He didn't think twice about it until they ran the dailies, and the camera focused for a few brief seconds on the placement of his palm on Matt's lower back and the way his fingers were spread so his pinkie looked like it was lined up with his …
His asshole.
Tim blushed hot and hard and hoped no one noticed.
He always understood that his sexuality was fluid, but this was - he swallowed hard - unacceptable. Matt was gay and while the people that mattered didn't care about it, they didn't because Matt kept his private life under wraps. Besides Matt was in a committed relationship, all but legally married. And he was legally married.
These thoughts flew out of his head when Matt turned around and grinned at him. “Look at you, the courtly gentleman!”
Tim smiled back weakly. “Sorry.”
“No, don’t apologize. I like it – it really sets a tone for the relationship.” Matt turned back to the monitor and Tim tried to relax.
But what kind of tone?
It was going to be bad, and Tim knew that he’d have to be very, very careful from now on.
II. The Show Must Go On
This was supposed to be an important episode – the midseason finale. USA split their season into two parts – the first two thirds ran during the summer and the last third in the winter, usually starting up just before February sweeps. But because White Collar had only started airing in October, they weren’t looking at a long break, just a little more than a month between the two halves.
Eastin, their showrunner, was structuring the series around a season-long arc of mythology, and this episode, Free Fall was going to have an impact on how the show would continue through the back half and through next season – if they were renewed. The read was important - they needed to hit it out of the park.
But Matt was being a big goof today.
Normally, his co-star was extremely professional, in a good-humored way. Yet, today at the table read, he was all kinds of misbehaving. Tim (and everyone else) chalked it up to the stellar ratings for the premier. Out of the box, White Collar was going to be a huge hit and they were all feeling the love. But Matt was like a toddler on a sugar high, he was a little too exuberant, song-bombing the cast and crew with the lyrics to the Tom Petty classic, Free Fallin’, whenever there was even a moment's lull. Natalie, who had just a handful of lines in this episode, kept picking up the harmony, and they were altering the words in amusing and, well, unseemly ways.
Tim could have sworn he heard “free ballin’” substituted in the lyrics more than a few times. Yes, definitely, when both Sharif and Noah burst out laughing. Even their director, Kevin Bray, started to chuckle. Tim, himself, had a hard time keeping the smile off his face, and he had to admit it was clever as much as it was distracting.
Matt kept looking over at him, waiting for him to say something. They’d been working together for almost two solid months – five days a week, sometimes for fifteen hours a day. He liked Matt, liked him a lot, and their obvious on-screen chemistry was an extension of the bond he felt with the younger actor.
But sometimes, that chemistry threatened to become something else. There was always that thing he’d felt since the first weeks of filming - hell, since they shot the pilot. Tim could swear that Matty knew exactly what it was. And on days like today, he was playing up to it, stoking it.
Stroking it, damn it.
And I’m free, free ballin’ … Yes I’m free, free ballin’ Matt’s tenor and Sharif’s baritone mingled pleasantly, but the words set Tim on edge. In his head, he could see Matt’s … what – unit – swinging freely, bumping out against his tight wardrobe.
Kevin called the room to order, again, and they tried to run the scene, but Tim was too damn distracted, and wouldn’t you know that Matt was humming that damn song.
A little fed up, a little aroused, he turned to Matt and hissed, "Are you looking for a spanking?"
The room fell silent, no one breathed and Tim wondered if he just tanked his career. But Matty, beautiful, unstoppable Matty Bomer just turned back to him with a wide, irrepressible grin and said, "And I bet you're just the man to give it to me."
To Tim's shock and the room's delight, Matt stood up, pushed Tim's chair back and draped himself over his thighs.
"I'm ready when you are." Matt wriggled around, as if he were trying to get comfortable.
Tim looked around the room, and wouldn't you know, Tiffani started clapping and shouting, "Spank him, spank him." Of course, the rest of the cast joined in, even Matt - for chrissakes - and he had to.
He hit him, not really a spank, but not really just a tap either. His hand didn't linger, but in that quick contact, he could feel the heat through the soft fabric. Heat and muscle and oh my god, what the HELL was he doing?
"There! Are you going to be a good boy now?" Jeez, was that his voice, so deep, so stern? He sounded like … like - he didn't know what he sounded like, but it wasn't like he normally sounded.
Matt got up, graceful as a gazelle, rubbed his ass, took a bow and sat back down in his own chair. The tension in the room was broken and they fell back into the familiar rhythms of the table read.
Two hours later, when Kevin called "done" and everyone pushed back and left, Tim found himself still sitting at the table, at a loss.
"You okay?" It was Matt.
He closed his binder with a snap. "Yeah - just … fine."
"Hey - look, I'm sorry about before. Sometimes I get a little carried away."
Tim looked up. Matt's face was cast in lines of utter sincerity but something told him that his co-star was a little less than contrite. He licked his lips and smiled.
"You know, Matt, you do have a splendid ass. It's a pity that White Collar's a basic cable show, because it should be shared with the whole world."
Matty blushed and laughed. "Maybe it will, someday."
III. Another One Bites the Dust
Matt stretched and luxuriated in the hotel bed linens, tendons and joints popping. He turned and looked at Tim, who was still sleeping.
It had taken a surprisingly long amount of time and effort to seduce his co-star. Maybe because Tim was married and ostensibly straight, and also because he was so deliciously honorable that even if he had his wife’s blessing (which he did - she just wanted to see them kiss on occasion), that he wouldn't touch him without Simon’s approval.
And even then, it wasn’t a done deal. It had gotten to the point that Matt was wondering if Tim was just playing hard to get.
He could have gotten Tim drunk - but he suspected that Tim could drink him under the table and all the way to China. Besides, he wanted something more than sloppy groping – at least for the first time.
But last night, the stars were perfectly aligned. The panel presentation went exceptionally well, and he and Willie went off to play while Tim patiently sat for interview after interview. Then they got snagged by a photographer for TV Guide, and did an impromptu photo shoot - which was fun. The guy got them into all sorts of crazy poses, their heads together in a few, and one where they were in a clichéd "boyfriend-girlfriend" pose - with their hands in each other’s back pockets.
Matt doubted that one would ever see the light of day.
God - the memory of the feel of Tim’s hand through the well-worn denim was enough to send his dick a-twitching. He loved Tim’s hands - they were big and hard and strong and more than a little rough. The hand in his pocket seemed so innocent, until it cupped his muscles and squeezed for just a second.
He looked up and Tim winked and the camera flash blinded him. They changed poses for another set of shots, then the photographer wanted him for a few solos.
By the time he was finished, Tim was the one to wander off. Matt didn’t know if that was a good or a bad thing. He kept thinking about that brief contact - not even skin-on-skin - and that wink. Maybe Tim was finally coming around. Maybe …
Matt plotted and planned and found his way into one of the gaming rooms. There were a bunch of demos set up and the noise level was incredible. A few fans approached him and he absently autographed stuff, all the while looking for his co-star. Finally, someone said that he should head over to the DDR booth - maybe he and Tim could take a turn on the stage. He turned and saw Tim, head and shoulders above the crowd. Tim must have spotted him, because a huge smile blossomed on the man’s face, and Matt’s heart stuttered just a bit.
It took a little pushing and shoving to get across the room, but suddenly he found himself on the stage with Tim. And a little kid. Someone pushed a Wii controller into his hand and the music started.
Ke$ha’s voice in Tik-Tok throbbed and screeched and he didn’t really care about following the on-screen motions - it just felt so good to let it go. He hadn’t danced like this since his days as a bachelor in New York, hitting the clubs and rocking his body to the house music.
It was a good thing that that kid was between him and Tim (who was an utter dork as he tried to mimic the on-screen moves), because Matt might have forgotten where he was and done something he might have regretted. Particularly since he could see about a dozen smart phone cameras raised above the crowd on the floor, recording them for YouTube posterity.
The song came to an end; he handed his controller over to a staff member and left the stage. Tim looked so damn delicious, flushed and a touch sweaty and Matt wanted to bury his face in all the secret places on that man’s body - and the not so secret spot at the base of his throat.
They made their way out of the room. The relative quiet of the hotel corridor was a relief after the heat and noise of the game room.
“I think I’m done for the day. You?”
Matt had to agree. Comic-Con was fun but he didn’t think he wanted to spend anymore time here.
“There’s a shuttle to the hotel. Or we could walk?”
Tim grinned. “Where do you think we are, New York?”
They didn’t walk - even though there hotel was less than a mile, it was California and there were too many roads impassable for foot traffic.
Matt’s room was on twelve, but he stayed on until it reached the fifteenth - Tim’s floor. The other man didn’t even look at him; they just walked side-by-side until they reached the room.
Tim said nothing until the door was locked behind them.
“This could be a huge mistake.”
Matt knew that. “I don’t really care.”
Tim’s lips twitched, as if he were trying to suppress a smile. “I don’t quite believe you.”
“But …”
“But …” Tim’s eyes narrowed as the humor was replaced by something dark. Matt shivered. “Get out of those clothes and go kneel on the bed.”
Matt hurried to obey; this was going to be so much better than he’d ever hoped.
IV. I'm Going Slightly Mad
Matt wondered if he was going slightly mad. Or, as they might say back home, bug-nuts crazy.
He and Tim had this thing. Just in New York. Except for that one time in San Diego, where it all started.
But lately, they weren't really hooking up. It was a bad convergence with a storyline that kept them out of each other's scenes, a few weekends shuttling back to Los Angeles for work on In Time, a major annoyance since his on-screen time totaled less than fifteen minutes.
Tonight, though - he wasn't going to let anyone or anything keep him from Tim.
Except, apparently, Tim himself.
He rang the bell at Tim's Brooklyn apartment - a loft in the Red Hook area, and rang and rang. Of course Tim didn't answer, the moron had Hernando's Hideway playing at full volume. He was practicing for his big tango scene. The building was a recent conversion in a still relatively industrial neighborhood, and had only one tenant - Tim. No neighbors meant he could play his music as loud as he wanted, and obviously he was.
Matt waited until the song finished and leaned heavily on the button, and yes - Tim finally heard it.
The door lock buzzed and Matt let himself in and took the creaking elevator up to the third floor, and he could hear the opening bars of the tango over the grinding of the ancient gears.
It was quite a sight that greeted him as he stepped into the loft. Tim dancing around the wide open living space, his arms holding an invisible partner. He had done the blocking with Madchen this morning, and it hadn't gone very well. They were both stiff and a little ill at ease.
Matt couldn't put his finger on the problem, but it was almost as if Tim didn't like this week's guest star. Despite Jeff's enthusiasm for the episode, the idea of a humorous story about a serial killer wasn't cutting it. But that wasn't to say that the episode was falling flat - far from it. It was just that – well - a definite lack of chemistry and a poorly drawn character were combining to pull everyone down.
Tim was a consummate professional, and even if he had loathed Madchen (which he didn't), it wouldn't affect his performance. Which was why, after a full day of rehearsals and shooting, at ten to midnight, he was practicing his tango.
"Dance with me?" Matt stepped into the room as the music came to an end.
Tim smiled and it was like the dawn. He held out his arms and Matt walked into them. It felt so good, Tim's warm body against his from torso to thigh, pressing into him, forcing him back against his arm. The music started again and Matt wondered if he'd ever be able to hear Hernando's Hideaway ever again without feeling Tim's arms around him.
The song picked up tempo and they moved in perfect coordination, as if they'd been practicing. Well, in a way they had - wasn't the tango supposed to be an expression of dominant/submissive sex?
Matt's breath hitched as Tim swept his hand down from the traditional position at the waist, to cup his ass. God, that felt so damn good. Matt didn't know why - but from the very beginning - even before they were fucking - he loved Tim's hand on his ass. He loved the casual possessiveness of it, the feeling of being owned.
And Tim knew this and took advantage whenever he could. There were days that Matt was surprised that he hadn't destroyed his costume after Tim let his hand just rest there - at the sweet spot. High enough to be decent, just low enough to make him crazy.
Tonight, though - Tim wasn't worrying about being decent. He was pushing Matt around the room, working him into a frenzy. The music, pulsing like sex, left him breathless. When it finally stopped - again - Matt broke their embrace, and tried to steer Tim towards the sleeping area.
"Come on - enough is enough."
"You think?" Despite his words, Tim seemed to agree, stripping off his shirt and pulling Matt back into his arms, letting his hands rest on his hips. Matt casually pushed them back. To where they belonged.
On his ass.
V. Good Old Fashioned Lover Boy
"Remember when you said I had a splendid ass, and it should be shown to the whole world?"
Tim looked up from his script, mildly annoyed at the interruption. They were getting ready to shoot the episode he was going to direct, and his prep work was much more involved than usual. "Of course I do. I think I’d just spanked you, in front of everyone."
Matt grinned. "Of course, a man never forgets his first spanking, right?"
Tim shook his head, amused but puzzled. "Unless you're looking for a repeat performance, why bring that up now?"
"Do you remember what I said?"
Tim furrowed his brow, trying to recall Matty's glib answer. At the time, he'd been a little disturbed by his own intense reaction to the playful administration of discipline. In the years since, he had learned a lot about himself. It finally came to him. "You said - maybe, someday, it will."
Matt sat back, looking like he just won the lottery.
"What have you done?" Tim ran through the possibilities … an underwear campaign didn't seem quite Matt's style, and television had become much more conservative since the days when David Caruso bared his ass on NYPD Blue. "A movie with a nude scene?"
"Not quite." Matt tossed a script at him.
"What's this?" Tim looked at the cover page. "Magic Mike?"
Matt wasn't sorry that he did Magic Mike, not by a long shot. His role was small - but unlike that waste of time, In Time, he got to play something other than a version of every role he had ever done. Ken was a sleeze and Matt reveled in it. Everyone, including himself, had made a big deal about the dance scenes and what they had to do to get ready for it - the interview he did with MTV about his wardrobe problems and the waxing was still making the rounds.
But it was the bedroom scene - with his wife, the drugs, the complete lack of morals - that made the movie worth doing.
That made for putting up with all of the good-natured shit from the White Collar cast and crew. Willie was doing a good job making him crazy - but at least the film crew got it on tape - and if there was any justice is the world, that little clip would make the gag reel for Season Four.
Tim had stayed above the fray - laughing with the gags, but not participating. There was a reason for that. A good one.
When he had told Tim about the role and all that it entailed, Tim extracted a promise from him. Of course, Matt had been tied up, on his knees and carrying his leash in his mouth.
Tim was going to get a private showing of any (and maybe all) of the routines that Matt had to learn and perform for the movie. At Tim’s convenience and pleasure.
The thing was, Matt had to be prepared – and by that – Tim didn’t mean that he had to be ready to perform at a moment’s notice. He had to be in the same condition he’d been in for the movie. In other words, his body needed to be just as smooth – his entire body. He had joked about waxing, but it wasn’t as bad as he made it out to be. Except for the Brazilian, but Simon had loved it so much that Matt had kept it up and honestly, it did get better. He just kept everything up – ass and legs as well as the pubes – and prayed that no one would notice. It wasn’t as if his wardrobe was going to put those areas on display.
They had wrapped the fifth episode late. It was a fun one – low angst and a nice change-up from their usual work, with a lot of location shots in Brooklyn; which was why he was ending the day at Tim’s Red Hook loft. Matt could have easily taken a car back to his apartment in Gramercy, but Tim had given him a look.
That look.
The one that made him just about pop wood in a heartbeat. “Tonight?”
Tim just nodded.
Early in the season, Matt had left the pieces of a costume at the loft, just to be ready: a Hawaiian shirt, a few pairs of tear-away pants and a peach-colored thong. Just what he needed for the “Living Doll” routine.
He had the key to the loft (just as Tim had one to his apartment), and was there before Tim. It didn’t take much to get ready – he’d done the EW photo shoot last week, a press tour and another round of interviews. So he was certainly in the right frame of mind.
He set some music to play - Paper Planes. It wasn't a track from the movie, but, as his grandmother would have said, close enough for government work. The beat was just right. He was good to go, all of the snaps and velcro on the tear-away clothes properly set and ready for the rip. He had warmed up, and his body was limber and weirdly alive. He hadn't felt like this when he was on the movie set - maybe it was because this was private, forbidden (well, not really - but sort of). Of course, there was anticipation of what would follow - particularly since Tim had such a thing for his ass.
On that thought, the elevator started to creak. Matt knew from experience that it would take about a minute to reach this floor. He dimmed the lights and reset the music, his breathing slowed and as Tim opened the elevator door, he started dancing.
He had the sweater draped around Tim's neck, pulling him into the room. It didn't take much effort to get him on his knees. Unlike the girl in the movie, Tim didn't pretend to mouth his cock, which was now stone hard. A few quick moves and he tossed away the shirt, toying with his nipples. That was just for Tim, an improvisation. He could hear his lover's growl of appreciation over the music.
He rocked his hips hard, bumping into Tim's mouth, and Neal hoped there'd be bruises tomorrow. When Tim reached up to grab his ass, Matt danced away. There was no "audience" to play to, and he took his time, bumping and grinding to the gunshots in the music before pulling off the white shorts.
He wasn't down to a thong quite yet - there were a pair of tiny red shorts to get rid of first. Matt took his time, always dancing out of reach of Tim's grabby hands. He adored taunting his lover like this, and he turned around, grinding his butt cheeks in his face. Tim wasn't waiting any longer - he pulled on the shorts - and Matt just danced away.
Tim's shocked expression was priceless - he didn't expect to be left with a handful of red spandex. Matt took pity on him and turned off the music. "Enough?"
Tim looked up at him, eyes glowing. He dropped the fabric and cupped his hands around Matt's ass, working his fingers under the straps of the thong and pulling it down, freeing his cock. "This …" He kissed him. "Is more than enough."
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Date: 2012-10-16 08:43 pm (UTC)btw i enjoy the song hernando's hideaway. And I like tango as coded d/s way more than as coded sexist relations lol.
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Date: 2012-10-16 08:49 pm (UTC)Yeah - that's my interpretation of the tango, because traditionally, it was a dance between two men.
:D