and this is junkyard love A Little Beasts Fic (7.6k)
“I’m not doing this here.”
“Doing what, Buck? Taking an afternoon stroll? Last I checked you aren’t supposed to be turning away the needy and the godless. Did I miss Mass already? Or am I early.”
“What can I do for you, John,” Gale says, as flatly far from a question as he can manage.
Silently exhaling air through his lips, John makes a wounded face, though there’s something sharp to it too. The beginning signs of John rising to the confrontation. “Hell of an attitude, Father– sorry for swearin’.”
There’s a faint ringing in the deepest recesses of Gale’s ears, like distant tornado sirens. Something like hunger sits at the back of his throat, oily and slick. “You’re never sorry.”
“Maybe I mean it this time.”
“I have better things to do than play games, Egan.”
“Somebody piss in your Communion wine?”
“Jesus, John,” Gale breaks, frustration crackling into his voice.
John clicks his tongue at him, one eye squeezing shut and a finger coming up to aim a perfect shot between Gale’s eyes. “I came for Confession.”
“You pulled that one already, remember?”
thank you to @the-ghost-of-jason-todd and @elleviral for their lovely beta work and @whiskeygospel for a truly STUNNING graphic
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Austin watches the shirt stretch over Callum’s back, emblazoned with a cheap, welcoming logo,“What brings you all the way to New York?”
Callum pauses, then looks over his shoulder, face creasing into the sort of smile that belongs on magazine spreads. He isn’t that much taller or bigger than Austin, but he seems to fill up the kitchen, hogging all the air and energy like he’s daring Austin to not share the space. “Came out here to do some modeling. Become an actor. Pizza’s just a side gig when the casting calls aren’t coming.”
Austin watches Callum sling flour across a counter, drizzling it with practiced flicks of his wrist. “How are the calls comin’?”
Callum grins, grabbing a scraper and using it to dislodge a circular wad of dough from a bowl, dropping it onto the flour and beginning a complicated series of kneading and pulling to spread it out thin. His biceps are still mostly soft, but there’s a pleasant flex to them as he works the pizza dough into a circle with deft hands. “About to be the best damn pizza you’ve ever had, mate.”
Austin grins, rubbing his cheek and looking down.
An Archive of Our Own, a project of the Organization for Transformative Works
thank you to @elleviral for editing this lil smut one shot and helping me name it. Sorry it made u want pizza
im not gonna write callum/austin but if i WERE it would look something like this:
"You gotta pass these tips on," Austin says.
The interviewer laughs
---
Callum's shoulders were as broad as an ox. Firm under Austin's hands. Wide and muscled like the men on his grandfather's ranch who put him on the backs of horses and sent him off. Big and heavy and work-rough, the older men with their sun-lined faces and shirts that were always starched and woody with cologne, and the rotating cast of younger hands bronzed, handsome, loose and wild. Different each year Austin went back, curious-eyed and begging to be put on the horse again and again. Each summer until finally he came back in a suit. And then never again.
He'd sucked his first cock out there. Too young to be doing so if he wasn't already an actor and more than aware of what everything entailed.
Hands slide up Austin's waist, trim and leaned out to the point of rangy for his next role. Scratch at the muscle of his hipbones, press into the flat of his stomach with warm, rough palms. There was something to Callum that reminded him of those old cowboys. The way he walked, roadman rhythm and self-containment even though he had been taught Queen and Joni Mitchell and Stevie Nicks by the queens his mother befriended.
Austin paws at his shoulders, slides up the width of his neck to snake through the cropped curls at the back of his head, slightly damp with sweat and scratchy at the base where he'd recently been lined up. Callum groans, presses his kiss deeper, tongue stroking the top of Austin's mouth, over the ridged, sensitive flesh again and again. Pulls away to needle at the hinge of Austin's jaw with gentle teeth.
"George Clooney teach you that?" Austin asks breathlessly.
Caustin role play wherein austin makes blushy suggestions and let's callum fill in the blanks, which are that he wants to pretend to be a male escort and have callum solicit his services. He thinks callums forgotten but then a week later callums like 'let's go for a midnight drive' and stops at the far end of some shady car park, austins starting to put two and two together and is already more turned on than he's ever been in his life. Anyway, because he has a slight degradation kink and he can't think beyond the immediate need to get callums hands on him his prices are absurdly low which callum, the perfect scene partner, doesn't fail to make him feel like every bit of a perfect, cheap slut for, and as such it all ends with him riding callum with six dollars total and three of callums fingers in his mouth.
They make a habit of doing this as often as they can and even arrange pickups and hotel rooms if they want to be elaborate, but the car/public at night is always their favorite.
It's for a role, Austin says over the phone, nervous and flighty. Speaker so he can lay on his bed, palms pressed to his thrumming chest, phone between his spread thumbs.
"You got cast without telling me?" Callum asks, voice throaty. Austin hears him exhale heavy, vape smoke or maybe a cigarette- the Paris weather was nice enough for it.
"Something I'm reading for," Austin admits, pulse belting, ceiling a swirl as his eyes tried to pick out patterns.
Callum hums, "Your method acting is a real problem, mate."
━━━━━☆━━━━━
Cal T (12:07 a.m.): Drive?
Austin (12:10 a.m.): Sure.
Cal T(12:10 a.m.): Be ready in fifteen.
It's not the first time Callum's hit him up for a late-night drive. It had been frequent habit during filming, back when their quarantine bubble at been little more than themselves, the isolation maddening, sinking them so deep in their roles, sometimes Austin woke up sweating and panicked from nightmares of falling from a burning sky, marching until his feet bled. Dreams of the fake sweat flecking Callum's sweat as they prepped him for his intimate scene. It was supposed to be a closed set that day, Austin had wandered in by accident while they were setting up, turned around and not where he was supposed to be. It had made an impression.
But that was a handful of years in the past now, their last midnight drive an award season ago, Austin so caught up in his nerves he'd nearly been sick. It was his habit, Callum a type of easy steady that couldn't be faked.
The Paris night is chill, too cold for the thin t-shirt Austin wore, sweatpants low enough the air licks at his bare stomach. He shivers, arm wrapped around his midsection for warmth, keys and wallet dangling. He could have waited in the warm lobby, under the watchful eye of the valet. But he liked it like this, a quick slip in the dark into Callum's sleek car. He'd taken it over on a ferry, just so he didn't have to worry about adjusting the seats of the rental- or so he said. Austin thought he just had a particular attachment to the sleek elegant Z4 he'd bought with his MoTa money. It was a familiar glide up under the gas lamps, kept traditional the way Europe seemed to value. Tinted windows, Austin knew the license plate by heart, he doesn't even wait for the window to roll down to reach for the handle, slip inside into the heated interior.
Soft music thumps from the radio, Callum's dressed in similar comfort, a slightly sturdier shirt than Austin, soft over the swell of his chest, track pants vicing into his belly, a step down from the fashion week ensemble of earlier in the day. It had been some months since they've seen each other, Callum's put on muscle somewhere along the way. Austin watches him lick his lips and pull out from the curb, onto the still busy Parisian streets, navigating through the traffic with one-handed ease.
He smelled like a fresh shower and cigarettes.
"You alright?" Austin asks quietly.
Callum spares him a glance, brows raised, "Fine."
He seems uninterested in speaking further, and Austin is normally content to sit in silence with just about anyone, but tonight there's a thread of tension in the car. The air sits heavy, the vents blowing recycled warmth through the cabin, the neon interior lights set to a soft purple, Callum's watch reflecting the streetlights above. He takes them outside the main hub of the city, to where the lights were fewer between, the streets less populated by partygoers and more full up of sleepy suburban houses, trees covering the streets and giving away eventually to a quiet little park. Nothing more than a fountain, a few benches, an abandoned playground, and a lot of grass that people probably enjoyed picnicking on, during brighter and warmer weather. Now it was abandoned, quiet. Void of anyone except for a single late-night jogger and their dog.
Callum puts the car into a park, engine idling with a soft purr that vibrates through Austin's body. Austin watches him drag large palms up his splayed, lazy thighs, a slow soothe. Callum's tongue peeks between his plush lips, wetting them as he glances over. "How much?"
Austin's gut swoops, "Excuse me?"
Callum had piercing eyes, that specific roadman swagger that said he might not have run around the sort of boys that caused trouble- but he knew how to make sure they didn't mess with him. Austin with his soft suburban upbringing had never quite been able to parse how he did it. "C'mon, mate, don't play dumb. How much?"
Thump.
Austin's heart's picked up, kicking like a rabbit with it's neck broken, one sudden swoop out as neurons fired and died. Their late night conversation a week ago hadn't been forgotten, but it had at least been shoved into the shameful recesses of Austin's mind. Left to molder at the perceived rejection. A fib that had been seen through and dismissed. His mind races, oxygen-starved as he has yet to draw a breath. He takes one. Lets it out slow, loud in the quiet of the car- Callum had turned the music down at some point while he waited for Austin to set the scene.
Set the scene.
It wasn't the first time they'd acted together, after all.
"Hundred for an hour."
Callum's brows raise again, forehead wrinkling and eyes shadowed by the night, "You think you're worth a hundred?"
Austin flounders, slow-burn arousal creeping over his body. He's sitting, hands on his knees, fingers digging in until a knuckle pops. "Sixty-five."
"Mmm," Callum hums, unimpressed and Austin remembers their first chemistry read, the way Callum had filled the room up with John, leaving him gasping for air.
"Twenty."
"I got six pounds on me."
Austin stares at him, cheeks flaring with indignation, shame. The money is meaningless, but the negotiation, how quick he'd folded even in the imaginary scenario, desperate for touch and for a hand that was bigger than his, a body that was heavier, serves as a hot spear of shame. "That's-" he forces his tongue to find it's strength, "- fine."
Callum watches him for a second, letting him sit with it, before reaching into a pocket and pulling out a wallet. Plucks out the money from a stack of larger bills and hands it over pinched between two fingers.
Burning, Austin takes the bills and tucks them into a pocket.
Another beat, then Callum is sliding his seat back, leaving room for his body to splay a bit. "Well," he says, still dry and deadpan, "get on with it, then."
The wind rustles the trees outside. Somehwere a dog barks. The stereo is pumping out the sort of euro club music Callum likely had grown up with, traveling the model circuit. Soft enough it was little more than a bass thump. Twisting his body, careful to avoid the gearshift, Austin leans across the center console and hovers over Callum's lap. He hooks his fingers into the joggers, eyes fixed on the shape of a cock tucked up against one hip, the sight of which he'd been trying to avoid the entire drive. Hadn't been sure if it was that sort of night. It had never been this sort of night before. His mouth is dry and he tries to gather some wet in it as he hooks down Callum's pants.
He hadn't bothered with underwear, something that wasn't uncommon, and the dark tangle of hair was a welcome, sight, the curls clean and musky. Callum was still soft, uncut dick nestled in the center. Austin uses his lips and tongue to pull the head into his mouth, suckling softly and tonguing at the loose skin as Callum makes a soft noise.
A hand comes to rest on the back of Austin's neck, gentle pressure, thumb and forefinger stroking through the loose, grown out hair at the base. Austin nuzzles deeper, nose tucking into the crease of Callum's thigh and takes him fully in mouth, easy to make it all fit, at least for now.
The taste of him is good, clean, skin and a hint of bitterness welling at the head that Austin laps away. Holds it there, feeling Callum plump and grow, passive enjoyment turning to slow, exploratory thrusts.
It's a mouthful. And then a stretch. Austin tries to draw off but the hand at the back of his neck holds him still.
He braces himself but the first gag comes quick, a throat wet thing, shoved around the flesh in his mouth as Callum bullies past the clutch of his windpipe and into his throat. Settling there without a care, Austin's fingers white knuckling on Callums thigh, nails digging in, the other somewhere on the console, hard plastic far less forgiving.
Austin gags again and Callum moans, pushing forward again, making Austin's eyes water.
His hand is a vice now, holding him still and restained as he fucks Austin's throat with the same brutal force one might a toy, smashing his pelvis against Austin's nose, his chin, pulling away wetter and stickier every time as salive, snot, a few tears here and there glueing them together for the few seconds they're skin to skin.
"That's it, settling into it now, hm?" Callum pants, the seats creaking, vinyl pants against expensive leather.
Austin's dick is hard, pushing against the center console and almost pinching as he tries top hold back another gag, find his equilibirum but usually he eased into something like this, gave his throat time to warm up and loosen up. He thinks if he fights hard enough Callum would let him up. The thrill that came from wondering what Austin would do if Callum wouldn't makes him dizzy.
"Been needing this, you got no idea," Callum adds, voice throaty and worked up, hips banging against Austin's face meanly. "The way I've been busy. Get it nice and wet for yourself, love."
Austin's throat locks up again in a choke and Callum swears loudly, pushing him down face-first and shaking him slightly. Then, finally, allows him pull back.
Rearing back, coughing, wiping with shaky hands at his soaked face, Austin tries to open his eyes only to find them glued by tears. By the time he's done swiping those away too Callum is already reaching for him again, helping him clamber across the center console fully until he's tucked up, spine to the center of Callum's warm chest. His big palm tucks up against Austin's wet neck, tilting his head back against Callum's shoulder.
Together they fumble Austin's sweatpants down to his knees, Callum pushing the seat further back. A quick fumble. A packet of lube, Callum forgoeing any sort of condom and Austin thinks he should, for the sake of the role, probably protest. But he can't find words even if he wanted to. Callum's lips press against his cheek, panting heavily as his hand fumbles between their tangled legs, lining his cock up to and pushing Austin down.
He's underprepared, unstretched. A few fingers in the shower earlier in the day just enough to keep there from being any sort of damage. Even still, he hisses out a guttural protest, palm bracing on the roof above them.
"Come on, you didn't think you'd end up like this? Seriously? Face like yours you're lucky I even gave you the option to walk away," Callum murmurs, hands heavy on Austin's spread thighs, pushing him down slow until fully seated.
The fullness is to much, almost more than Austin can take, and he can't do much more than slump back against the broad width of Callum's chest, gulping for air and palming his own flushed, desperate dick, beading and welling a constant stream of slick.
Callum's blunt fingers explore around the join of them, pressing like they might slide in too.
Austin flinches. Callum laughs, withdrawing them to wrap an arm around his belly, the other hand still cupping his throat.
Obedient, Austin grabs the door handle and holds himself steady, head lolling as Callum starts a steady, rough pace up inside him, bullying out a space inside for him, reminding Austin exactly what it felt like. Fingers slip inside his gaping mouth, tugging it wider, slipping inside him anywhere Austin would allow.
6k into breathing final part and its gonna be funn
“Saw you when I was comin’ in to teach that class,” John says eventually, shoving his hands into his pockets in a self-effacing gesture. “Hoped you were awkwardly third-wheeling like it seemed and not just waiting on someone. Hoped the class was gonna be an odd number, so I–”
“So you could pull me up on stage,” Gale finishes. He finds, despite himself, despite the hammering on his heart and a film of sweat on his palms, that there’s a grin stealing across his face, pushing itself wide and giddy.
Strange. In a juvenile sort of way. Gale thinks maybe he’s never felt this before, except those first few moments before he’d asked Marge to prom and been shot down, kindly, thoroughly, instantly. Except even that has been different, a step he was supposed to be taking instead of one he wanted to be taking.
It was a leap, but this time he was looking down at the bottom, instead of closing his eyes.
“So I could pull you up on stage,” John agrees quietly. Clears his throat with surprising delicacy. “You had me flustered like I hadn’t been since high school. Never seen someone as pretty and handsome as you are. And then– shit yeah I wanted to get ropes on you, but you walkin’ up on that stage, clearly working against yourself to go up but still so goddamn calm, cool about it? It felt like I was trying to impress you.”
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The cracks in the ceiling bob and weave, Gale’s tired eyes trying to pick out meaning in the chaos. He’d been tired until the moment his head had hit the pillow, the moment the light from under his door had clicked off, the apartment going silent. His body awake, wired, mind soft and fuzzy still but stuffed up with the same wordless restlessness. The bedsheets scraped his skin raw, every brush pushing him further away from sleep. It had been a long time since he’d been in a house where the creak of floorboards had been a safety risk, but he feels glued to the bed all the same, trapped by the closed door by something he couldn’t name. But the bed was too big, the silence too heavy. His own breathing the only sound. Even if it was, for now, slow and steady.
His heart was pounding. He needed a drink of water. His throat was dry.
Pushing the covers back, Gale crosses the room with stubborn confidence, not allowing himself a moment to hesitate. Turns the knob and opens the door quietly, stepping out into the hallway and, despite himself.
Pausing to listen.
Nothing but the cars outside, the sound of his upstairs neighbor pacing around. The sofgt noises of someone asleep from the living room. Down the hallway, Gale looks to his left, to where moonlight lit up John’s curls in a dark silver halo, his face mostly in shadow by an arm flung across the long bridge of his nose, mouth carved slackly in soft monochrome. The rest of his body was obscured by a blanket normally draped over one of the arms, but Gale can see the spread of his thighs beneath the shell.
Careful to keep the glass close to the tap, to run it only slightly, Gale fills his water cup as quietly as he can. Drinks it dry and sets it just as carefully on the counter, staring across it to where John still has not stirred.
Gale’s heart was pounding. His fists clenched on the linoleum counters and then forced themselves flat. His bed was waiting for him, still warm, molded to his body and how it liked to lay. But the thought of returning to that empty room with all its quiet made his stomach turn.
“Are you free tonight?” Gale asks, clearing his throat in punctuation at the way his voice comes out a little rougher than intended.
John goes silent. Gale hears the click of a turn signal, and then the rev of an engine. “Ah…”
Understanding hits Gale quick and hard, a strike to the face waking him up. John had someone else he was seeing tonight. Some other person he was tying and commanding and letting put their cheek on his thigh where Gale’s fit perfectly. “It’s fine.”
“Well hold on, what’re you lookin’ for?”
“Forget it.”
“Buck,” John’s voice comes through louder, more firm, as if he’s switched the phone off speaker and pressed it to his ear instead. “What do you need?”
Gale catches a noise in the back of his throat. Still standing in the middle of his empty apartment like a puppet with no puppeteer. It feels obscene, for John to expect him to simply come out and say it.
John had strung Benny along for months, with Johnny's stupid nickname and feigned ignorance, waiting until the most comedically timed moment to reveal his con. Forcing Johnny to apologize for his machinations, and Benny to accept the apology with a barely hidden grin and an even less hidden interest in his eyes. And John had picked well, Benny was handsome. Stout and strong and steady in a way that had Johnny sweating through his shirt slightly, tugging the light fabric away from his chest before the sweat dimpled it. He'd given Benny his number, taken his, and weathered the triumphant crowing from John as Meatball had wound himself between their legs.
The exchanging of phone numbers had felt like a massive step off a flight of stairs into the darkness, Johnny taking it without realizing how perilous his footing really was. And so though he and Benny had chatted for a bit over text, a lump had begun to form in Johnny's throat that grew larger and larger until it choked away all his ability to reply.
Johnny had enough going on. He had enough baggage without trying to teach someone how to carry any of it. He was too busy with his work.
thank you to my dearest @reallylilyreally for editing this one for me <33
