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Title: The Edge of Glory
Author: [ profile] tourdefierce
Pairing: Colin/Bradley (Merlin RPF)
Rating: NC-17
Warnings: Slight D/s, bondage, slight breath play, unprotected sex in a monogamous relationship, talk of bloodplay and fisting, intense fluff, bottom!Bradley, language and a brief mention of sex toys. This fic fully lives out its warnings. You have been warned. (God. If I missed any warnings, PLEASE PM ME.)
Word Count: 7,000 (embarrassing)
Summary: Colin is inspired by the red cape Bradley wears as King Arthur.
Author’s Note: Um, once again, this is all [ profile] eloquent_toast’s fault. It was her birthday this past week and so, because she’s so lovely, I wrote filthy porn. It’s obscenely long and ridiculous and I’m a little embarrassed. Many thanks to [ profile] vesperdivum and [ profile] lemniciate for the beta work, because this fic needed it. All remaining mistakes are mine. The title was shamelessly stolen from Lady Gaga and I’ve been listening to the live, piano only version of this song on repeat for days (I would link you, but youtube has taken it down). ♥ I do hope that you all enjoy this massive porny ficlet.

The cape this entire fic is based on this photo from S4. (I don't think it's spoilery. It's just Arthur in a cape, being a royal BAMF but click at your own risk.)

"We're wrapped for the day!"

Colin smiles behind his cup of coffee, watching as all the boys gather round each other—most of them wearing those ridiculous sunglasses that make them all seem vastly cooler than they are. Bradley, of course, is among them. So often is he with the boys, the knights, now that filming has started and most of Bradley's scenes are with at least one knight or another. It's nice to have them around, but it's harder to find alone time when Bradley is constantly playing football or going to the pub—always trying to drag Colin along—when Colin mostly just wants to go back to the hotel, shower, have some spectacular sex and go to bed.

They haven't had more than a mutual wank in the morning for nearly a week. Even then, it had been at some godawful time, before one of them had to rush out to catch the bus.

It's been torture. Colin's always been a bit of a nympho, especially now that Bradley's all his in private, but the lack of time they’ve been able to spend together as of late makes their public affection even more charged. Combined with a whole week of watching costume crews and stylists of all sorts, not to mention all the boys rough housing in the French sun—all of them getting to touch and laugh and relax with his Bradley—it's all a bit much to be honest.

Colin is feeling slightly neglected.

But it's no matter because Colin has a plan.

See, if there’s one thing that Colin loves, it’s seeing Bradley all dressed up as King Arthur. Bradley, fantastic man that he is, looks gorgeous in red. Colin thinks they must have had that in mind as they cast for the perfect Arthur: must look good in red had to have been on the casting call. For the past week, all Bradley has talked about is how Costumes has been on him all the time about keeping the long, sweeping, fantastically gorgeous red cape from getting dirty. Considering the cape is quite long and Bradley is a fucking goofy man, this is near impossible. But Costumes are paid to nag.

And so, Bradley's spent the week in Pendragon red and it's left Colin ready for the weekend. Saturday is a late call for everyone and Sherry, who just happens to work in Costumes, owes Colin a favor.

"All right, Colin?"

"Perfect," he replies to Angel, before catching Sherry’s eye and following her to the back, near the trailers.

It's all part of the plan.


Colin gets to the hotel before Bradley. This isn't unusual on days when the storyline is mostly Arthur intensive, with Merlin playing around merrily in the background. He picks up both their sides for tomorrow, smiling kindly at the front desk woman and walking as quickly as possible to the lift. There's no reason to feel like he's doing something naughty. Technically, the item inside his backpack isn't supposed to leave the filming site but Sherry has made that point moot and even though Colin knows that technically he's not doing anything wrong, the plans he has are positively sinful.

He doesn't meet any of the crew on the way up and reads through him and Bradley’s sides for any changes that need attention. It's quiet, most of the crew still at the site or already in their showers, getting ready for a night at the pub to meet friends or family for dinner. The Beeb still books them two rooms, even though everyone who needs to know is informed about the status of their relationship. It wasn't always like this but after they spent a whole season sneaking around, Colin had left feeling dirty and used and absolutely awful. It had almost torn them apart. But when Bradley had shown up on the off season, with his adorable face and his honest smile, declaring that he just might love Colin, secret or not..

Anyway, they have two hotel rooms but they only use one.

Colin gets into the room and takes his backpack off, leaving it on the bed. He eyes it for a moment before shaking himself and going into the bathroom to wash up. The shower is quick, his knees knocking a little in anticipation—his cock already hard, curling up to bounce against his stomach. God, it amazes him how much Bradley can effect him, without having to even be in the room. Colin's already hard thinking about Bradley’s toothy-grin shifting into a desperate moan or the way his playful 'mates' tone goes soft around the edges when they're alone and how it gets low and desperate when he needs Colin.

"Christ," Colin mumbles, barely able to towel off as the cloth is too rough on his sensitive dick. He doesn't bother getting dressed, just pulls out the bright red cape—the yards of soft, almost silky, thick fabric—and shoves the backpack onto the floor.

There's a quick scramble for the lube in the nightstand before he's doubled over, knees pressed against the cape covered mattress as he jerks his cock. He hisses, his hand too sensitive on his cock, but he's been hard all day watching Bradley parade around looking regal and lovely but not being able to touch him or speak to him much. Instead, he had to watch Eoin, Rupert and a dozen other strikingly handsome men touch and laugh and be around Bradley—the jealousy rages through him and he slicks his hand, shifting to lean his other on the mattress.

The new position gives him more leverage. His hips jerk, fucking his fist with desperate snaps that wrenches a moan from his lips. He's not going to last—not like this, not when he's been watching people touch something that is his without comment. He doesn't know when he got so possessive over Bradley, maybe after they told people, and yet, everyone continues to touch Bradley like he isn't already spoken for. Whatever it is, it hasn't stopped and has inspired more than one quick fuck on set.

The red fabric seems to pulsate underneath of him, completely dominating his vision. It just makes Colin moan, working his cock fast and furious as it leaks from being so close to orgasm. He's always been kind of a hair trigger but being with Bradley is even worse and when they first started dating, Colin had wanked before every date. Eventually, Bradley had caught him, walked in on Colin hastily arching into his fist and biting out Bradley's name.

Now, Bradley watches most of the time or offers up his mouth for Colin to thrust into.

"Oh fuck," he moans, hips stuttering as he leans down to smash his face into the cloth. The last time they fucked, Colin was so worked up—so hot from Bradley's flushed cheeks and easy laughter at the pub—that they had snuck off to the loo and Colin had fucked Bradley's throat. It wasn't kind or polite, but Colin had been so close that he had only slid his cock down Bradley's clenching, choking, throat a dozen times before he was coming messily. Afterwards, Colin smeared his come all over Bradley's face and sucked on his tongue until Bradley was laughing, hard and beautiful, murmuring, "yours" in such a way that had Colin dragging him back to the hotel and fucking him over the side of the bed until they both came, crying and screaming with release.

Because that's the thing, isn't it? Bradley will do whatever he can to make sure Colin lasts long enough to fuck him.

"Oh, oh," Colin gasps, mouth wet and hot and desperate into the fabric as he spills over his fist. His hips jerk, knees aching a little, as he strokes himself through the orgasm. When he rolls over, he's still got the cape underneath of him.

There's an oddly shaped wet mark from his mouth and he traces it with his fingers. Lower on the cape, there are streaks of his come that dominate the centre of the red fabric and the sight makes his dick twitch with interest.

He's always been prone to jealousy. But never like this, never like the way he aches for Bradley—to mark his skin with blotchy hickeys or hold his hand in public or streak his skin with come. It's just—Colin is so consumed with what he feels for Bradley half the time that he can't fucking stand it.

It doesn't help that Bradley will do anything for Colin—from eating vegetarian to staying up late so Colin has someone to ride back to the hotel with, to doing whatever Colin needs to come first, before calming down enough to take care of Bradley and give him the fuck he loves.

That's the crux of it though—Bradley loves to be fucked by Colin's dick. Colin's always been perfectly comfortable switching top and bottom in all his relationships. When he and Bradley had crossed that bridge, he thought Bradley would be uncomfortable with bottoming but after the first time, Bradley had confessed, with his head buried in the pillows, that he didn't really want to top anymore—that all he wanted to do was stuff Colin's cock in him, anyway he could get it.

The thought alone, now, even after he's come once already, has him burning with faint arousal. He can't help himself, he runs his hands that are sticky with lube and come over the soft but heavy weight of the red cape. Just the sight of the stains, his come, streaking and claiming Bradley's cape have him panting a little—calming the place inside of him that always needs release so quickly and settling deep inside his belly that yes, Bradley is his and yes, he'll wear the cape Saturday afternoon (washed of course) but Colin will know what had been there before.

He rubs his wet, sticky come into the fabric, watching it darken, and breathes in deeply, the scent of sun and Bradley invading his nose and draping over him like the long, sweeping folds of the cape around Bradley's shoulders do during the day.


Bradley's hand is running through the short hairs at the nape of his neck when he wakes. He's curled in on himself, legs splayed over the red fabric and his face turned into the cape.

"Hey," Colin mumbles, still hazy from his orgasm and the light doze.

"God, Colin," is the reply he gets. The hand scratching at the back of his neck is a little forceful and Colin can't help but smile. "You couldn't wait?"

Colin rolls over. "Been hard all day," he says lazily, taking in Bradley's face, eyes sharp with his arousal and fluttering all over Colin's naked body. "Needed to take the edge off," he continues. He catches Bradley's hand and brings it around to kiss his palm. "I have plans for you."

Bradley groans, hand moving to trace Colin's mouth with his fingertips. Colin doesn't give, just breathes quietly and watches Bradley watch him.

"How'd you get this from Costumes?"

Colin smiles. "Sherry likes me," he says, moving to grip Bradley's wrist tightly.

Bradley, easy fuck that he is, moans.


"Hush," Colin says, still watching the way Bradley's gaze roams over his body, hand flexing in Colin's grip. "Come here."

Bradley scrambles and fuck, he’s always so fucking eager for Colin’s touch. He’s plainly unashamed of his desire. Not like Colin—who has always had trouble getting over his hair-trigger and had been so embarrassed by it that it took him nearly two months of jacking off alone before Bradley caught him. No, Bradley isn't ashamed by his unequivocal need for Colin.

"Christ, Colin," Bradley moans, pressing his cheek to Colin's and breathing in sharply. "You look amazing."

Colin grins, smoothing his hands over Bradley's shoulders and making room to tangle their legs together. "Not as good as you, prancing around set with this bloody cape around you. You look so fucking good—so in charge—it makes me want to bend you over and show everyone just how much Prince Arthur likes my cock."

Bradley huffs out a laugh that twists into a moan. "You're jealousy is showing again, Cols," he says, smiling into Colin's jaw.

"Can't help it," he replies, arching his hips to push tight into Bradley's hard cock. "I want you."

This time, Bradley makes a pained sound, nuzzling his way into Colin's neck, where he breathes deeply. Colin traces the whipcord muscles of his shoulders and rubs at the knots when he finds them. Their hips are lazily rubbing together, the friction feels good on Colin's bare skin but he's hungry for more—the way Bradley's tanned skin always feels feverish, how the hair of his legs feels rough against Colin's waist when he tugs his thighs apart or the way his chest flushes with desperation as Colin pushes inside him—Colin's hungry for it all. But it takes time. It always does.

At the beginning, sex was complicated and neither of them communicated exactly what they wanted. It was good, fuck, of course it was, but not as good as it is now. After Bradley had brazenly admitted to preferring to bottom they had navigated a bit more clearly where they wanted to be in the bedroom. It was here, in French hotel rooms, that they discovered that just as Bradley enjoys putting on the airs of Prince Arthur, he loves to take them off. Here, beneath Colin's hands, he's someone that Colin will take care of.

Bradley's breathing eventually evens out and the tension in his gorgeous biceps eases away. Colin smiles, content and happy, already getting hard between them. Bradley whimpers when he drags a hand over Bradley's arse. It's a breathy, needy, sound that makes a switch flicker inside of Colin. Most of the time, it's Bradley bustling around like an eager puppy—trying to please everyone—and he's always insisting on taking care of Colin. But here, when Bradley's breath goes reedy with desire, that need to please takes a different route.

"Bradley," Colin says, voice low and patient.

Bradley whimpers again, pushing his hips up and moaning into Colin's neck. "Show me," Bradley whispers, voice small. "Show me how much you want me."

Colin can't help but contort to kiss the soft spot behind Bradley's ear that always makes him melt before he pushes him onto his back. Bradley's eyes are glazed, already trusting and spacey, so Colin kisses him. It's soft and exploring because Colin can't ever get enough of Bradley's mouth. It's not a lazy kiss, but it's not driven or demanding. It's not a prelude. It's not a tease. The kisses between them can stand alone.

"You're such a gorgeous thing," Colin says against Bradley's mouth, licking at the corner. "So fucking pretty."

When he reaches up to wrap himself around Colin's naked body, Colin diverts Bradley’s hands up to his face.

Bradley doesn't look confused, just impatient, as he strokes the cheekbones he goes on about so often. "Let me take care of you," Colin says. It’s not a question but a request and Bradley pauses, fingers tracing the planes of Colin's face as if to memorise him forever.

Bradley doesn’t reply. Not with words. He simply nods and lets his arms fall back above his head, body loose, pliant with trust and desire—all for Colin. The sight sends a shiver down his spine and Colin is grateful that he’s taken the edge off because seeing Bradley like this could give him an orgasm all on its own. Instead, he smiles as widely as he can and leans down to kiss Bradley's mouth.

"So good," Colin whispers against his lips. "So good for me."

Bradley just breathes and Colin gets to work.

He tugs until the cape is free. His fingers run over the fabric a few times but he doesn't let himself get distracted—it's mostly just for Bradley's benefit. He makes a show of laying the cape out, noticing how Bradley follows the movement of his hands with careful attention. Once it's straightened out, Colin gathers it at the top and ties it to the headboard, leaving the stain of his come at the bottom of the now rope-like cape. He gets the trailing fabric out of the way, pushing it above Bradley's head and settles to one side of him.

"There we go, love," Colin says, pushing Bradley's well-worn t-shirt up his chest. Bradley doesn't help, letting Colin move his arms where he wants. He whimpers, gently pushing into Colin's touch when Colin grazes at his nipples, but otherwise stays silent, eyes wide with lust and something quieter that has him turning to nuzzle his face into Colin's body whenever he's near enough.

The t-shirt gets thrown off the side of the bed and Colin unbuckles Bradley's belt without any fanfare. His jeans are loose around his hips when Colin undoes the button and zip to trace the warm strip of skin just below his waist line.

"Lift up," Colin orders and Bradley's hips rise enough to get his jeans and boxers off with ease. Colin takes his time pulling them off Bradley's thick thighs and strong calves. He pushes his hands into the muscles all the way down until the denim pools in his lap. The jeans and pants go off the bed as well, leaving Colin with a naked Bradley—except for his socks.

Which are mix-matched and one of them is Colin's.

"Have problems this morning?" he asks, trailing fingers up Bradley's calf. He presses his face into Bradley's ankle. It's practically the only boney part of his body, everything else is toned with muscle, but here at the ankle, he's bare of anything his trainers have tried to build him up with. "Come on now," Colin whispers into Bradley's ankle, licking the skin there. "Answer my questions before you can’t any longer."

Bradley moans and Colin smiles a secret, sharp smile. He knows that Bradley's thinking about their ballgag and the way it stretches his mouth but Colin doesn’t have any plans for that toy tonight.

"You were still sleeping," Bradley says, voice wet. "Socks had run off again."

Colin nods, sucking on the sharp curve of Bradley's ankle as a reward. He pulls the sock off with care, tossing them to lie with the rest of Bradley's discarded clothing. He strokes the bottom of Bradley's feet a few times, stopping to rub at the arch, before he moves on. Bradley's other foot gets the same treatment, a curl of pleasure heating in Colin's spine at the sight of his sock on Bradley's foot. He lavishes attention to both ankles, sucking on the skin until it reddens and then sucking harder, watching Bradley gasp into the sensation—he sucks until he knows there will be purpling bruises there in the morning and then he scrapes his teeth over both marks like he's christening them.

He pushes Bradley's legs wide, enough where he can kneel there and keep distance between their cocks. Colin's too sensitive now, too hard for Bradley and he doesn't want this to end anytime soon. His recovery time is good but he's not sixteen anymore—two orgasms in a short period of time is his limit. He just sits, watching Bradley for a few moments, stroking his hip. A little bubble of precome beads at the tip of Bradley's cock and Colin can't help but lean up to kiss Bradley’s upper lip.

"That's good," Colin mouths into him. "I like it when you're wet for me."


"Hush, I'll take care of it," he promises and kisses Bradley's brow until his eyes shutter closed.

And he will.

Colin turns the cape's fabric once or twice, gathering it together. He winds it around Bradley's wrists, not tightly, just weaving them to bind his hands above his head, before he laces it down Bradley's arm. The fabric settles softly against Bradley’s arm and there are teasing strips of tanned skin between the bright red fabric.

Colin licks and nips, too light for marks, at the skin peaking out between the candy stripe of the cape. Bradley makes a soft sound, arm taunt as he flexes his hands around some of the fabric between his wrists.

He brings the cape down the front, skirting Bradley's armpit. Colin has no choice but to drag his teeth there too, down the taut line of Bradley's outstretched arm and teething the line between armpit and chest. Colin inhales, smells the musky smell of Bradley—almost cedar smelling combined with all the familiar scents that the cloak holds. He pulls it tight across Bradley's chest, pressing it into his side as he bites at the nipple the fabric is covering.

"Fuck, Colin, fuck," Bradley says, writhing. Colin bites harder and sucks through the cloth. The fabric is rough and heavy against his tongue. The feeling of it, wet with his spit and rubbing harshly against Bradley's nipple, makes him moan and he releases it with one final nip. "Fuck yes, yes, oh god Colin," Bradley moans, but it's more of a whisper than anything else.

Finally, the fabric gets wrapped around Bradley's solid waist. Colin makes it tight as he can, watching as Bradley feels the uncomfortable pull on his diaphragm and shushing him when he whimpers, hips making desperate little circles, vying for Colin's wrist.

"Needy," Colin murmurs with humour. He tugs the red fabric a few times, making sure it's constricting, and then lets the rest go up Bradley's chest to settle at his neck. There is only a hands-worth of fabric left but it has its use. That part, the last few centimetres, is a darker colour and Colin has to squeeze the base of his cock because he has plans for that section of fabric that nearly make him breathless with anticipation. "You look—"

Bradley moans, wrenching into the pull of the fabric and gasping. Colin leans back to watch him writhe and struggle against the taut strain of the cape. Bradley bends his legs, pushing against Colin's hold on his hips, thrusting his leaking cock into the air.

"You're so fucking pretty," Colin repeats, watching as Bradley's head thrashes back and forth—the tight way the fabric pulls around his waist already leaving him panting and a little breathless.

"Cols," Bradley whines out, pushing his face into his wrapped arm. "Cols, need you."


Bradley whines and sobs a bit, just a breathy, wet gasp into his bicep. "Need you, so much. Take care of me—you said you’d take care—"

Something blooms a little hotly inside his chest and causes Colin to squeeze harder at Bradley's hips, knowing that in the morning, there will be fingerprint bruises there. He presses until Bradley whines again.

"You do," Colin replies. "You need me very much."

"Yes, yes, Cols, oh please—"

Colin dips, curling in on himself, suckling at the tip of Bradley's cock. It's salty, bitter on his tongue, and he knows it must hurt when he sucks this hard but he's not nearly done with Bradley yet. It's nice, to hear Bradley yell like this, like he's in pain, for everyone in this godforsaken hotel to hear.

He pulls off for a moment and Bradley curses, eyes wild as he stares down at Colin.

"Fuckin' hell, Colin, hurts," Bradley moans, mouth red and shiny.

"You taste good," Colin says, eyes closing as he mouths at the tip of the Bradley’s cock. He feels a little vindictive, a little addicted to the sounds Bradley makes when he's riding the edge of pain and pleasure. He bends down and tongues the foreskin of Bradley's cock back, scraping his teeth against the sensitive head and sucking down hard when Bradley’s yelps turn into strangled screams, just a little louder for Colin and the whole hotel to hear.

"Wanna hear you," he whispers, pulling off to nose at Bradley's cock. "Wanna make sure the whole hotel knows who you belong to."

The next time Colin sucks down, teeth dragging hard on the underside of Bradley cock, he keeps his eyes open. Bradley arches back, chest constricting against the tug of the fabric against his stomach. He's gasping for breath, head thrown back to bare his throat for Colin—Adam’s apple bobbing desperately as his throat works to swallow down his cries. But the sounds Bradley makes are only harsher, more wrought with pleasure and spiking pain.

When Colin backs off, Bradley's cock leaks precome all down the shaft and there's a desperate way about him that says he needs more or he might break. Colin licks, tiny flicks of his tongue, until he laps away the bitter liquid and continues with wet, open kisses until Bradley stops sobbing so garishly.

"You're doing so well," Colin says, smoothing his hands down Bradley's twitching thighs. "Screaming so nicely for me."

"God," Bradley chokes out. "Cols, what—"

Colin shakes his head. "I'll fuck you soon, love."

"I need, Cols, I need—" but he's cut off with a cry as Colin sinks his teeth into the fleshy part of Bradley's inner thigh. The bite is hard enough to make Bradley curse, back bowed hard, when Colin starts to suck. The mark turns dark purple under Colin’s care and Bradley jerks as if he's been shocked. "Cols, please, please, please."

Colin licks his lips.

"I know what you need, Bradley," Colin says lowly, watching as Bradley's eyes finally focus on him. "You don't have to tell me."

"Then why—"

Colin tilts his head and scratches his blunt nails down the thick cord of Bradley's outer thigh. "Because, Bradley, sometimes reminders are useful. For you and for everyone else."

With that, he shoves two fingers into Bradley's mouth. It's dry, from all the yelling Bradley's been doing, but it gets wet fast because Bradley knows exactly where these fingers are headed.

"You don't have any horse scenes tomorrow," Colin says idly, using his other hand to roll Bradley's balls in his hand. "Not ‘til Monday. Did you know?"

Bradley moans around the fingers, eyes very wide.

"It means," Colin says, "you can have as little fingers as you want, Bradley. I won't force slick inside of you or more than two fingers. I'll fuck you open exactly the way you need to be, with only my cock."

Bradley keens as Colin pops his fingers out of Bradley's wet mouth and slides one, immediately, into the tight entrance to his body. There aren't really words coming out of Bradley's mouth, just a long line of mindless noises that communicate his pleasure when Colin twists his finger into the tight channel of his body.

"There's a lad," Colin soothes, jack-knifing his finger into Bradley's hole and watching him bliss out, eyes unfocused and mouth stretched when he moans. "I know exactly what you need, love."

The second finger slides in easily enough but Colin scissors them to stretch Bradley. He knows that Bradley would prefer it if he didn't, if he just fucked him with two and then split him open on his cock but they're not on break and when Colin fucks him like that, no prep or less prep than tonight, Bradley's sore for days. There are times that Colin plans it all out and fucks him like he desperately wants, raw friction that burns his cock and makes them both come embarrassingly fast. Those times, god, those times—Colin licks him out afterwards and tastes the faint copper of blood tangled with the come leaking out of Bradley's body like a warrior.

Tonight though, tonight Colin takes his time with the second finger. He watches at Bradley uses the leverage the cape gives him to push back and ride the fingers as much as he wants. He watches Bradley curse and spit and whine, enjoying the sounds that Bradley makes when he's taking all the love Colin has for him without hesitation. It's lovely.

"Cols, Colin! Fuck, you—oh you, god," Bradley whines, hips grinding back on Colin's fingers like he wants nothing more than to take his entire hand. Colin moans as the sight.

"You'd like that," Colin says, taking his other arm to pin Bradley's ridiculously flexible legs to his chest. He can see more clearly the way Bradley's hole quivers around his fingers, desperate for more and wanting, so very badly, to swallow him whole. "You'd like it if I put my entire fist inside you, wouldn't you?"

Bradley pauses, head back, body bowed back. Colin watches as he thinks it over, rolls the idea in his head while Colin curls his fingers suddenly, putting unyielding pressure against Bradley's prostate.

"It'd feel like this, except it'd be my entire fist, slamming inside you and god, you'd probably want more," Colin says, a little in love with the idea. "It wouldn't be enough until I stroked off and came all over my wrist so you could sit on my fist and gobble that up too, you greedy boy."

Colin doesn't stop pressing on Bradley's prostate and Bradley starts to kick. "You fuck, god Colin, you're such a fucking—ohgodyes—such a fucking wanker."

He doesn't slap Bradley across the face but he desperately wants to. Instead, he takes his fingers back and spits in his hand. Bradley's still cursing, eyes wild and thrashing against the bonds of the fabric and this is the place that Colin loves the most: when Bradley falls apart and begs him to pick up the pieces and fuck him back together. Bradley has always been so easy, so ready for Colin to do whatever he pleases but there is a point when Bradley fights back before he completely loses himself to what he needs—what Colin is more than willing to give him. That moment is nestled here, with Bradley angry because he's empty and struggling against this bonds and choking himself on his need.

Colin doesn't do anything. He lets Bradley struggle for a bit and returns to lavishing open kisses on Bradley's ankles while Bradley fights with everything he has. Bradley builds himself up, until he's flushed all over and almost yelling in his furious desire.


And that's it. Colin's had quite enough.

He pulls Bradley back onto his cock without hesitation. Bradley is cut off, mid-curse, eyes going impossibly wide as Colin slams into him and seats him, balls tight against the curve of Bradley's delicious arse.

"Enough," Colin says quietly, pressing his body down to hold Bradley's bucking legs. "Enough, love."

Then he takes the come-stained spot on the cape, that's been so nicely lying on Bradley's neck just waiting for him, and stuffs it into Bradley's mouth. He keeps going, keeps ramming the come-soaked fabric into Bradley's gaping mouth until there isn’t any fabric left slack. There's sputtering, Bradley choking to breathe through his nose and attempting find out where his tongue is supposed to go and Colin just smiles and kisses him. The fabric is in the way, dominating Bradley's mouth and stretching his lips wide over the spot.

"Shush now," Colin says, softly. He kisses around the fabric before he pulls his hips back and fucks into Bradley exactly how he needs it.

Bradley is still tight, practically strangling Colin's cock but it feels too good to focus on it. Colin needs to distance himself from the raw drag of Bradley's spit-slick arse clinging to him like a glove or he’ll come too quickly. Instead, he tries to focus on giving Bradley exactly what he needs. He twists his hips, grinding and thrusting into Bradley with every strangled breath Bradley attempts. It's mesmerising to watch the struggle still go on inside him, twisting and snarling. The fabric is even wetter now from Bradley's spit, and Colin traces it with his fingers. He presses hard, watching Bradley choke a little as he strokes the darkened red fabric.

"You're mine," Colin says, leaning down to lap softly at Bradley's nipple, in strong contrast to the brutal slap of their hips together. "Bradley, love, you're all mine."

That seems to do it. Bradley stills slightly, pupils dilating, before he relaxes and becomes completely undone. He unravels, until he's hardly there anymore. His eyes are unfocused, hooded and Colin can do nothing but watch. It's the most beautiful thing that Colin has ever seen and he never wants to stop being able to witness this as much as he wants. Bradley's gone, to wherever he goes, and Colin feels something resonate inside of him. He has this privilege to give Bradley whatever he needs to go to that special place that Colin has never been before, doesn't even know if he can go, but it's enough that Colin put him there. It’s phenomenal.

Colin keeps up the pace but he doesn't last long. He finds the angle that pushes out soft groans from Bradley's chest, that makes his eyelids flutter and his body bow, and Colin keeps it with the brutal thrust of his hips. He tries to push down the pleasure building in his spine but it's impossible when he sees the tears streaming down Bradley's cheeks. He looks so blissed out, so fucking happy that pleasure slams into Colin from all angles and stutters his hips with the intensity. He’s frantic now, fucking into Bradley like he's trying to break him open and crawl inside this brilliant man. He knows, he knows, there will be bruises from his hipbones on backs of Bradley's thighs, up where they meet his arse. There will be pretty little bruises from Colin's too-skinny hips and tomorrow night, Colin will lick them and not be able to stop tracing them.

It only takes four hard jerks of his hips before Bradley is coming wordlessly, choking on the fabric in his mouth and spilling between their hips. Colin moans, watching as Bradley’s orgasm seems incredibly long, his thick cock jerking and smattering his stomach, still wrapped in that luscious cape, with streams of come splattering his chest. The sight is enough to pull Colin's second orgasm out of him.

He comes, hips stilling for a moment, before they resume their frantic grinds into Bradley's fucked-out hole. Colin gasps, moaning as he empties himself inside Bradley. He stays there, hips stroking leisurely while he kisses Bradley's face. He licks at the tears tracking down Bradley's cheeks and streaming into his hair until Bradley blinks and whimpers around the make-shift gag.

"So beautiful, my beautiful boy," Colin murmurs, when he pulls the cloth out of Bradley's mouth. He unwraps him slowly, mostly because Bradley hates it when Colin pulls out too fast and that means that Colin's too-sensitive cock is still buried inside Bradley's come-slick arse, keeping him grounded and full. Colin has to be careful not to move too much as to avoid slipping out and over-stimulation on both their parts. Finally, he untangles all of Bradley from the long, billowing fabric of the cape. Bradley's still gone, eyes closed and breathing slowly returning to normal. He whimpers every once in a while, flinching at Colin’s touch, but other than that, he's pliant—still gone to that lovely place he so desperately needs Colin to take him.

Colin wants, very pathetically, to kiss every single patch of Bradley's skin. Instead, he pushes the cape around until he finds a spot not wet with sweat, tears, spit or come and pours water from an abandoned glass onto it. He wipes down Bradley's face with care, kissing his cheeks and his eyelids with chaste pecks and whispered words that are very embarrassing—no doubt if Bradley had ever heard Colin call him baby and darling, he'd take the piss for so long. But here, in this tender place, Bradley says nothing; just curls his body ever closer to Colin's and keens softly.

Finally, Colin stretches Bradley's legs out and lets his cock slip out.

"Cols," Bradley whispers, a strangled sound, but Colin hushes him.

"You're lovely," Colin replies. He strokes his hand down Bradley's side and rubs his thighs, checking for cramps. None come and after some whining from Bradley's part, Colin slips a finger inside him. Bradley sighs contently and Colin finds himself blushing. "Christ, Bradley."

Bradley just moans happily, so satisfied to have just Colin's finger sitting inside him that he turns his head into the pillow to hide his smile.

Colin cleans the spunk from Bradley’s belly and wipes down the rest of him with tender hands, paying special attention to the crease of his groin and the backs of his thighs, all with his finger cradled inside the sticky heat of Bradley's body. Colin isn't as careful with himself. He swipes at his cock, which is covered in his own release, and a few other spots. They're both filthy and disgusting and in desperate need of a shower but it can wait until the morning.

"Bradley," Colin whispers, nosing at Bradley's face until his eyelashes flutter open. "Can I have my hand back now?"

God, of course, now Bradley pouts, his hole clenching possessively around Colin's finger. He doesn't look like he wants to let go but Colin's getting a cramp and he doesn't want his hand to jerk inside Bradley. He's too sensitive.

"S'fine," Bradley slurs out, pressing his face against Colin's. There's a beat and when Bradley exhales, Colin pulls his finger out. "Mm, miss you," is what Bradley whines out, unconsciously pushing back where Colin's finger used to be.

"God, I fucking love you," Colin says, pressing his face into Bradley's neck and feeling a little overwhelmed.

Bradley just hums his response and turns over, tucking Colin beneath him in a neat little roll that almost has them falling off the bed. Their legs tangle together but Bradley is vastly more bulky and built than Colin and engulfs Colin with his warm heat.


Colin stops the smooth caress of his hand over Bradley's back and the idle way his other hand is playing with Bradley's hair. "What's it?"

"Nothing," Bradley mumbles into his neck, "just—love you too."

After that, Bradley falls asleep, snoring at a truly unfathomable decibel. Colin, total sap that he is, doesn't stay awake for much longer. He falls asleep cocooned by Bradley’s warmth and with a smile stretched across his face.


The next day, there will be lazy morning blowjobs and rimming for Bradley’s sore hole before they go in for filming. Colin will spend the entire day with his chest fit to burst with the knowledge that Bradley is riddled with evidence of their love-making and that Bradley can't keep the ridiculous smile off his face. The only person with a death wish will be Katie, and so, she'll be the only one to tease Bradley about the noises he made last night. Colin will blush, feel a little bit like he might hate Katie sometimes because she doesn't know a damn thing about him and Bradley but it’ll turn out fine. Bradley will push her into the mud and they’ll bicker like siblings until everyone laughs and no one remembers how the fight was started.

In the end, Bradley will hold Colin’s hand during all the breaks and bring him a vegan cupcake when he accidentally breaks the boom-mic.

It’ll be a good day.

When Sherry comes to ask for the cape, Colin will tell her he's not interested in giving it back, to hell with the wrath of Costumes. Surprisingly, she won’t push the subject and Bradley will ambush him outside the trailer to make out like teenagers before it starts to rain.

♥ ♥ ♥

Happy Saturday.
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December 2011

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