A Steady Gaze
Alan Tudyk/Sean Maher
NC-17, light dom/sub warning
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*Look now.* It was like a game between them, adolescent and silly, sure. But Alan got something of a thrill playing it, on and off between takes in shooting, day in and day out on different sets, different costumes--well more Sean in different costumes than himself, since his character was pretty much a one shirt kind of fellow. Sean had some pretty fancy ones, though. And yes, Alan would admit it. He'd sneaked a peak or two into the dressing room to watch Sean change.
As he glanced over, he caught the flutter of Sean's eyelashes, the slight blush in the cheek. Alan could *swear* the man had a sixth sense, to know whenever he was looking at him. He waited, until he could see just a hint of Sean's dark irises, his head turning, before looking away himself, feeling the heat of the gaze fall squarely on him. Alan couldn't help grinning. It was all just in fun, right?
At least, that's what he tried to tell himself.
Sometimes, at night, however, alone with his hand moving under the covers, however . . . he wished it might be . . . something more.
Couldn't think those thoughts on set. Not that anyone would really give a hoot; okay maybe Nathan, because Nathan was All American Standup Ladies Guy and all that, and they all liked to joke about it. But hell, the girls were all over each other. And Sean? Well he was more queen than the ladies, sometimes. No repression there, nuh uh.
Meanwhile, Alan was . . . okay, the truth? He'd never admit it out loud. But he was kinda shy. Didn't exactly help matters either that he hadn't really done anything with a guy since like early adolescence, hadn't taken a shine to someone of the same sex . . . before now. So, he had to be casual. After all, boys could be boys--if it was all a joke, right?
*Well,* Alan thought, as the set manager called for Nathan, Gina, and Jewel to head over to the cargo bay studio, *enough playing around for today*. He had a scene coming up, doing some fancy flying--and he hadn't figured out yet how he was going to do the 'busywork' of the engine's gadgets and buttons. He headed on over to the cockpit set, still feeling Sean's steady gaze on his back. Once inside the little enclosed space, Alan chuckled to himself. When he first arrived on set, he remembered asking Joss 'So, how does this thing fly?' And he remembered laughing when Joss told him he hadn't any clue. Since then they'd worked out a system--this doo-dad does such and such, and so on. It was more about what looked good to the camera than anything else.
He went through a few motions--it was supposed to be a breakneck chase, and naturally they'd be suffering multiple systems failures, so it had to look complicated. And jostled. After a few combinations, he found something that should work--and allow him to bump into a few of the others, which was always a bonus. Especially if one of them was Gina--or Sean.
Alan sat fiddling with the controls, a little smile on his face, allowing his mind to drift, imagining he could feel that heat again . . . when suddenly . . . he could. Like there was a furnace beating at his backside, sending sparks of heat up his spinal column. A light scuff on the floor alerted him that he wasn't alone in the little set. He started to get up out of the pilot's chair to turn around, but a hand on his shoulder stopped him. Oh he recognized that frilly cuff. Sean.
He looked up. Sean was staring at him, and there was an intensity to his gaze that told Alan that this was *not* fun and games, not at the moment at least. Was he angry? He opened his mouth to speak, but again, Sean gave him no opportunity. The hand moved, sliding up from Alan's shoulder to his chin, holding him firmly there. Alan swallowed, feeling--well? A bit like a peeping Tom who'd been caught.
"Are you just playing with me?" Sean asked the question, but it just as easily could have been Alan himself--this was not exactly where he'd expected the game to go!
He swallowed again, intending to answer, feeling the blush creep into his cheeks (damn that fair complexion), feeling things, err, tightening below . . .
Sean's eyes tore into him with that gaze, that steady gaze. Whatever they saw, seemed to give him an answer. The next thing Alan knew, Sean was leaning down, hand holding his shoulder like he'd slither away, and then Sean's lips were on his, hot and demanding, and Alan thought he would combust on the spot, mouth opening up to the kiss, boots sliding on the floor as he sought to raise himself up a little, give back into that kiss. Sean gave him no quarter, tongue invading, teeth scraping his bottom lip and Alan moaned, brain fizzled, cock straining at his pants, eagerly begging for attention.
*What if someone sees us?* Alan thought distractedly, as the kiss lengthened, Sean's mouth lapping at his tongue, and that thought fizzled out as well, because . . . because . . . so good. Sean was really good at this. He let his eyes closed, let the worries just drift away, as Sean's hand moved down from his shoulder, down his chest, down to press against the insistent bulge in his pants. Alan moaned.
When Sean's hand slipped inside his trousers, however, Alan paused, eyes opening, giving an unmanly squeak. "I-uh--people--" Not that he didn't like the attention he was getting--oh no--but, so much, so soon . . . not to mention the location . . .
"They're all filming Nathan's scene at the moment. Nobody will see us," Sean calmly assured him, bringing out Alan's cock, stroking it, eyes holding him just as securely as his hands had a moment earlier. "You've been teasing me for weeks. So this--" Alan gasped as Sean's fingernails grazed up the shaft-- "This is payback." Sean smiled, dark and hungry, and Alan knew suddenly that 'this' was only the beginning.
Alan groaned, fidgeting, afraid to move. Sean's hand began moving faster, harder, and Alan found his hips rocking up, helplessly feeling his balls start to tighten, pleasure coiling in his gut. Sean brought his head down, kissing him again, roughly, teeth scraping over lips, tongue plunging in to take possession. That brought a whimper. Holy Christ; he was going to kill him here! Alan struggled, but it was more for his peace of mind than anything else; his cock thought this was all a marvelous idea, twitching in Sean's grasp, as the man began doing this incredible twisting motion around the head.
All of a sudden he realized it was coming, heading towards him fast. And there was nothing he could do to stop it. With a cry, Alan began climaxing, spilling into Sean's hand, eyes squeezing shut as the pleasure raced through him. Afterwards he was left trembling, clinging onto Sean. "Jesus . . ." He could hardly remember such a powerful orgasm before.
Sean smoothly let him go, wiping his hand on the pilot seat--oh, and who was going to clean that up, Alan wondered? Sean was smiling like the cat who'd had his cream. "Well you looked like you enjoyed that." He leaned in closer, lips brushing Alan's ear. A hard shiver went all through him. "If you ever want to continue . . ." He stepped away. "You know where to find me." And with that, he walked away, leaving Alan staring. Oh God. He'd never get the man out of his thoughts *now*.
The scene with Nathan must have finished, then, because he could hear the crew starting to return. Shamefacedly, he tucked himself away, straightened himself up. Tried to tell his heart to stop pounding and the blood to leave his face. If he wanted to continue? Did he?
He went through his routine one more time, because Sean's little visit had pretty much wiped it out of his mind, before he finally went back to join the others. Sean was standing with the other cast members, as innocent-looking as if he'd never snuck up on a fellow cast member and jacked him off to orgasm. Alan glared at him, but Sean just smiled and gave him a 'who me?' look. Gina raised an eyebrow at him, and Alan had to abandon that game.
So what would the game be now? What was he going to do? Pretend that it had never happened, go on with the shooting, just . . . forget about it? He snuck a glance over at Sean, and found the man staring straight at him. His stomach lurched, and that wasn't the only thing.
No. Wasn't going to work.
So no more games, then, he decided abruptly. No more trading glances, no more . . . holding back. He returned Sean's look, and headed for his trailer as the group broke for lunch.
It wouldn't be long, he knew. And this time, they would finish things.
Sean's gaze was steady, when he opened the door. And this time, so was Alan's.