NOTE: DO NOT READ THIS PART IF YOU DIDN’T SEE THAT I POSTED CHAPTER 7! THIS IS NOT THE ENDING, THIS IS THE EPILOGUE AFTER THE ENDING. Link for Chapter 7, ‘Ruin’, is below.
Pairing: James McAvoy/Michael Fassbender
Series: Poor Impulse Control
Warning: This is real person slash fiction. If you don’t like that, don’t read it. Should be obvious. Rating for this chapter is NC-17. It is NSFW!
Author note: Please read 7 first :) Here’s a little extra treat for you lot who have been reading so long, and a promise I won’t stop writing! However, this really is the last part of PIC. Thanks for reading everyone <3
“Same time next week?”
James bounces Brendan in his arms, eyes on the little boy as he gurgles, tiny fingers grabbing onto the collar of his shirt. Anne stands in the doorway, one hand on her hip, eyebrow raised at James.
“If you ever let go of him, then maybe,” She smirks slightly. There’s a hint of sadness on her features, even with her lips turned up in a smile, and James doesn’t fail to notice it as he looks up at her from the front path. He holds her gaze as he kisses his little boy on the head and passes him over, his lips drawing into a thin, sad smile to match her own.
“Anne,” He says sadly, hunching his shoulders slightly. “It doesn’t have to be like this.”
She turns half-way back to the open hallway behind her and pauses, sighing audibly. “I’m okay, James. Really. Stop worrying about me.”
“You were, so stop it,” She smiles more genuinely this time. It’s been an awkward few months, but it’s been made easier by the fact that he’s been abroad filming the last of the movie, and she’s used to being alone anyway. Having a husband with a rapidly rising career like James’ was always going to mean time alone, so it wasn’t much different knowing he wasn’t coming home at the end of the day. Or, that’s what she tells herself.
James has an apartment in the city, and she knows it’s more his style. He was never really the white picket fence type he made himself out to be for her sake, but Anne always appreciated the sentiment. He still comes by when he can, some days to take Brendan out, and some days to take them both out. Some days they even stayed in, flopped on the sofa and watched pointless TV together, or read the paper. It was nice. Every little thing made it hurt a little less.
“Come on. Get a sitter and we’ll have dinner some day this week? How does that sound?”
He tries, and she appreciates it just as much as she always did. With a smile, Anne nods and tells him she’ll call and let him know when is good for her. James watches the door close in his face and sighs, because he knows it’s going to be a long time before they get along properly, if ever. For now, they’ve chosen to keep it secret. They haven’t spent more than five years keeping their lives out of the press to let the tabloids exploit and distort rumours of a divorce. It’s working for them, and that’s what counts.
His family don’t know yet, but he’ll cross that bridge when he comes to it.
James heads down the road, glancing back at his old home just once, and finding that – like every time he walks away – he feels less remorse than he did. It’s like walking towards a new and brighter future. He grins to himself, the smile spreading ear to ear, and speeds up, catching sight of a familiar leather-clad figure on a parked motorcycle at the end of the road.
James jogs over to the bike, eyebrow raised, his expression unimpressed. “I thought I was getting the bus today,” He says with a little snort of laughter, rolling his eyes. “I don’t have my helmet.”
Michael pushes up his visor and grins, patting the box on the back of the bike. “Brought the spare. This is quicker than the bus and you have an interview in an hour. Get on.”
James sighs an exaggerated sigh, and wrestles the helmet out of box. He climbs on behind Michael, wrapping his arms around the older man’s waist. “Go on then. I don’t want to know what you’re planning on doing with that hour. Just drive.”
Michael’s laugh carries on the wind as he revs and takes off down the road.
He’s right, the bike is quicker. In ten minutes, they’re back at James’ apartment, and Michael barely takes the time to chain the motorcycle up before he’s jogging up the stairs. James follows more slowly, amused with Michael’s eagerness. He drags his feet on purpose, to wind the other man up, and pats his pockets as if he’s lost his keys. “They must be in my bag, hang on…”
The rattle of metal on metal catches his attention and Michael is dangling a set of keys in front of his face. “I brought the spare.”
It’s all he says, unlocking the door and throwing it open, grabbing James by the wrist and dragging him inside. “Hey, hey. Slow down a sec,” James chuckles, but Michael doesn’t listen, stripping his bike leathers off and dumping them and the two helmets on the floor beside the door. He slams it shut, shoving James up against it and covering the smaller man’s body with his own.
He glances at his watch, biting his lip. “45 minutes. You need 10 minutes to change. 35 minutes,” He mutters, before looking back around at James with a toothy grin. “Plenty of time.”
A quiet gasp spills from James’ lips at the lusty, hungry look in Michael’s eyes. It’s like an animal, hunting it’s prey, and James loves it. He loves the smell of Michael when he’s like this, a mixture of arousal and cigarettes and expensive cologne, a light sheen of sweat at his hairline that James finds himself wanting to run his lips across. He loves the hot air that hangs between them as they tease each other, neither making the first move, like a ritual. He loves feeling Michael’s crotch against his hip, the fabric of his jeans slowly tightening, the hardness pressing against his leg. It’s a game. It’s always a game, and he can’t get enough.
Michael licks his lips and leans forward, brushing them across James’. James smirks, pulling away and slipping out from Michael’s dominant embrace. He strides down the hallway, and he doesn’t have to look to picture the look of distress and frustration on Michael’s face.
“Come back here,” Michael growls, stalking after him, but he’s smirking. James hears the footsteps behind him speed up and runs towards the bedroom, throwing the door open and spinning on the spot, blocking the doorway with his arms.
Michael throws his arms around James’ waist, yanking him against his chest, and smashing their lips together. James yelps against Michael’s mouth, but it quickly descends into quiet groans of pleasure as he deepens the kiss, tongue swirling against Michael’s. His arms wrap around Michael’s neck, hooking over his shoulders. Michael grinds his hips forwards against James’, pressing their arousals together. His hands slide down to grope at James’ backside, a pleased, satisfied sound escaping through a smile. James nips at his lip, pulling it gently. “Don’t have much time,” he teases, leaning back so Michael can see the wanton look on his face. His lips hang open slightly, a quiet gasp escaping them.
The sound that rumbles from Michael’s throat sounds like a snarl as he lifts James from the ground, letting him hang from his neck as he walks them both into the room and shoves James roughly off onto the bed. His hands are on his fly before James can recover from the landing, unbuttoning it and sliding his jeans to his ankles. There’s nothing underneath. James groans in appreciation, surprised and pleased at the sight of Michael’s erection escaping the denim. He feels his own cock twitching against it’s fabric prison and follows suit, tugging at his zipper like it can’t come down fast enough.
Michael’s on top of him before he can get his trousers all the way off, covering his body and his lips with his own, possessing all of him with his wandering hands and lips and teeth. James bucks his hips up but it’s no good, Michael’s got him trapped so he can’t get the friction he desperately needs. He whines, dragging his nails down Michael’s spine. He arches beautifully, sharp eyes glaring down at James. “Be patient,” he orders, kneeling up and stripping off his shirt. He unbuttons James’ and lets it fall open, surveying the pale skin underneath with a satisfied smirk.
Michael crushes them together again, rolling his hips hard against James’ needy arousal, eliciting a loud moan from the smaller man as his mouth comes down to assault James’ nipples. He sucks and nips at them, swirling his tongue over each of them before running his tongue down the length of James’ torso, circling his naval, teeth catching on the hem of James’ underwear. Michael pauses to smirk up at James, before tugging them skilfully down with his teeth.
James chuckles, the sound still deep and laced with need. He’s constantly and frequently surprised by Michael’s endless talents in the bedroom.
Michael breathes over his naked erection, breath hot and heavy against the sensitive. James groans, his arousal twitching against Michael’s lips. “Just fuck me,” James breathes. “We don’t have time to mess about. I want all of you. Now.”
He catches Michael’s eyes, pleased to find a healthy dose of surprise on Michael’s face at his words. He smirks, crooking a finger towards the other man, drawing him back up his body until they’re face to face. Michael bends down and kisses him hard, and James parts his lips with a gasp, letting Michael own his mouth like he owns his body. He slides his legs up as they kiss, hooking them around Michael’s waist and with one hard push, flipping the two of them over so he’s laying on top. James smirks, as Michael raises an eyebrow at him, tucking his arms behind his head.
“So that’s how you wanna play. Fine with me.”
“Not quite,” James purrs, climbing over Michael until he’s faced the other way, his back to him. He plunges two fingers into his mouth, swirling his tongue over them until they’re wet with saliva. He slides his hand between his legs, leaning forward as he slides them inside of himself so Michael can see everything.
Michael gasps and groans lustfully as he watches James prepare himself, wrapping a hand around his own erection and pumping it slowly. “God, you have no idea how hot you look doing that.”
James chuckles darkly and pull his fingers away, wiping them on the sheets as he leans back, letting Michael take hold of his hips and line him up with his arousal. Michael slides the tip inside of him, slowly, letting him breathe, unable to see the smug, dark look on James’ face.
At once, James pushes back against him, taking all of Michael in and gritting his teeth as Michael cries out and jerks his hips slightly at the unexpected pleasure. “James, oh my god,” he growls, nails digging into James’ pale skin. “Fuck, baby.”
James takes a sharp breath and braces himself, rising slowly and pressing back down again. Michael’s eyes roll back, consumed by the feeling. His mouth hangs open, his hands still loosely clutching James’ sides and guiding him in his slow rhythm.
“Don’t think you’re getting away without doing any work,” James murmurs, a breathless laugh escaping his throat as he stills above Michael again. Michael groans, lifting his hips and pushing himself deeper inside of James, setting a slow pace that burns at his arousal. James meets every thrust, palms flat on the mattress as he forces Michael to keep the pace steady and painfully slow.
Michael grunts as he shifts onto his elbows, propping himself up to watch as he presses into James again and again, feeling the younger man’s muscles tensing desperately around his erection. “Fuck, James. You’re gonna kill me. Please.”
James reaches behind himself and grabs Michael’s wrist, tugging at it until Michael sits up, and wrapping it around his stomach. Michael bites his lip, sucking in a sharp breath as he feels the heat of James’ body against his own, the sweat between them spreading across his chest and James’ back with every movement. He rests his head against the back of James’ neck as he follows the steady pace, his damp blonde hair mixing with James’ dark locks. He can feel James’ heart beat as he pushes into him again and again, elevated with the pleasure, every quiet moan that spills from the other man’s lips making his torso shudder against Michael’s chest.
He’s so in love, he swears James is going to break him one day. Michael feels the intense closeness, clinging to James desperately as every thrust draws out the pleasure almost unbearably.
“Please,” He murmurs into James’ hair. James smiles, and nods gently, shuddering again as Michael’s cock brushes across his insides, making his hips jerk needily.
Michael doesn’t wait a second longer. Arm still wrapped tightly around James’ waist, he pulls out and rolls them over, pushing James onto his knees. James groans, barely getting his balance before Michael pushes into him again, his thrusts quickening needily.
“Michael,” James cries out, sinking his teeth into the pillow to keep himself from screaming out as Michael drives into him, deeper than before, every movement carnal and needy. His fingers claw at the bedsheets, helpless to do anything but brace himself against Michael’s thrusts as the pleasure comes in bursts, making his hips jerk and spasm against his will.
“Fuck, you feel good,” Michael growls as his fingers grip at James’ hips, squeezing his pale flesh and dragging him back to meet his thrusts. He pushes his cock deeper inside of him, as deep as he can get, driven by the feeling and the desire to make James cry out and writhe with pleasure. He loves every twist and jerk beneath him, knowing he’s driving James insane with his cock. Michael’s mind starts to go blank to everything but the pleasure, his vision blurring as he feels himself draw closer to the edge. He stoops forward, bracing himself with one hand on the bed, the other sliding over pale skin to palm James’ erection, fist it in rhythm with every thrust he makes. James cries and curses, bucking into Michael’s hand, his body trembling. He’s close too, he knows it. He can feel it in every tremor, he knows James’ body inside out, and he sinks his teeth into James’ shoulder as thrusts hard and deep, his own body spasming as he comes, the hot orgasm burning through him and making his body shudder, his hips still jerking and thrusting desperately and erratically as he rides out the pleasure.
James feels Michael’s searing orgasm painting his inside, setting his nerves on fire, and he comes into Michael’s hand, his knees and elbows almost giving way as he screams out Michael’s name into the pillow he’s crushed into. It hits him in waves, his muscles twitching as he lets it take him over, consume him entirely. James feels Michael’s arms give way and he relaxes forwards onto his chest, letting Michael lay on top of him. He groans and pants, enjoying the feel of Michael still inside of him, the other man’s chest heaving against his back.
Michael’s arms wrap around him and hold him still as James goes to move. “Not yet,” He whispers, rolling his hips forward once more and enjoying the spasm of James’ hips. He’s too sensitive, and he squirms and lets out a quiet whine. “Let me hold you.”
James smiles, his sensitive muscles still twitching. He’s sweaty and sticky and tired, and he’d like nothing more than to close his eyes and fall asleep in Michael’s warm embrace, but he can’t. “Baby,” he murmurs. “I gotta wash up. I’m going to be late.”
“How unromantic,” Michael moans, but there’s a smile on his face. He pulls slowly out of James’, mumbling a groan of satisfaction at the feeling as he does so, and tugs gently on the younger man’s shoulder. James rolls over, meeting Michael’s eyes, his own still half-closed with pleasure.
“You’re still the best thing that’s ever happened to me,” Michael says quietly, and James responds with a deep kiss, hand sinking into Michael’s messy blonde hair.
“Ditto,” James grins, kissing Michael’s nose as he pulls away. “But I’m still going to be late no matter how many compliments you give me.”
Michael rolls his eyes and lets out a dramatic sigh, untangling James from his arms. James leans over him and kisses him again, jumping out of the bed and not daring to look at the clock as he goes to clean up. Michael shifts onto his back, pulling a fresh packet of cigarettes from the bedside table and lighting one up. He relaxes back, resting his head on his free arm as he smokes, eyes trained on the bathroom door.
James darts back in, clean, wearing a fresh outfit and a heavy dose of antiperspirant. He leans over the bed, kissing Michael one last time. “I love you,” He smiles, as Michael nuzzles against his cheek.
“I love you too,” Michael breathes. “Have fun, okay?”
James is gone in seconds, already late. Michael watches him go, taking a long drag of his cigarette and revelling in how good it tastes. He wishes James could stay in bed with him forever, but he knows work is something they’ve both got to get used to. He doesn’t mind, he’d do anything for James. He’d wait forever, if he had to, and he doesn’t have to. It’s only a few hours. Stubbing out his cigarette, he swings his legs over the side of the bed and gets up, a smirk spreading across his features. A few hours is plenty of time to prepare for when James gets back.