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A Little Less Conversation, A Little More Action

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Rusty is staring at the girls in the booths but he's not seeing them. His skin prickles in awareness, and his eyes snap into focus. He sees Danny's reflection in the glass as Danny brushes by him, casual, like it's been four days instead of four years since they've seen each other. He forces himself to move slowly, schools his face to the same boredom that's been riding him for months, though the rush of anticipation is humming in his veins.

Rusty doesn't need a script for this; he and Danny have been grifting since they were fifteen, conning blue collar vacationers out of their spending money down the Jersey shore before moving onto bigger game, first out at the Hamptons, and then back home, in Atlantic City. Danny Ocean has a head full of ideas and a silver tongue, Rusty Ryan has the gift of gab and an actor's skill, and together they were -- they are -- unstoppable.

They bluff the actors easily, out of sheer enjoyment more than any necessity. Rich people and their money are soon parted when Danny and Rusty are around.

Danny looks good for a man just out of prison; the silver in his hair makes him look like a star from one of those old black and white movies they used to watch on rainy afternoons, before channel five became Fox, back when they were kids. And Rusty knows he's better looking than he's ever been; he sees his face, his golden ticket, in the mirror every day.

Rusty lets himself be lulled by Danny's patter. They say you can't con a con man, and in this case it's true, but Rusty doesn't care. His whole body tingles, excitement sparking along his nerves, just from being in Danny's presence again. The whole world is brighter, sharper, when they are together, and everything is theirs for the taking.

There have been other people over the years -- a steady stream of girlfriends, boyfriends, even a wife, so when Danny lays the plan out on the table, Rusty knows what the real goal is, but he lets himself forget for the moment, so he can just enjoy their time together before anyone else is involved.

They lean against each other as they look over the plans, and Danny's voice is a purr in his ear, making his body thrum with need. He's professional, of course, because they are. They learned a long time ago that nothing -- especially not anything personal -- should interfere with work, though he can tell already Danny's blurring the lines when it comes to Tess and Benedict.

He's not sure why he asks why. He knows Danny's going to lie, and yes, Danny feeds him a line of bullshit, and he acts like he believes. Because Danny has always needed to think he's the smart one, he's the one in charge, and because liars always need someone who believes. Rusty has always let him, because Rusty needs Danny.

The elevator doors whoosh shut and Danny's mouth opens, but Rusty has had enough. He shuts Danny up with his own mouth, hot and urgent, tongue slipping in to taste coffee and scotch and the pecan pie Danny barely touched at the diner.

Danny freezes for a moment, a telltale sign that he's not as sure as he once was, but it's only a moment, and a quick one, at that.

And then Danny is kissing him back, chapped lips warm and soft, stubble scraping his cheek, sending a thrill right to his cock, which has been hard and ready for this almost since the moment he saw Danny again at the club.

Danny drops the blueprints and slides his hands through Rusty's hair, over his shoulders, down his back, and Rusty feels every touch as if it's being burned through his clothes onto his skin. They jostle for a second, banging into the bar along the back wall as they pull each other close, but Danny never breaks the kiss, keeps breathing Rusty in as if he hasn't tasted oxygen in four years.

Rusty'd forgotten what it was like, but it all comes rushing back now, the heady feeling of Danny pressed against him, as good as being on the grift but in a completely different way, letting go instead of being in control. He pushes Danny against the side of the elevator, slapping at the emergency stop button before tugging Danny's his shirt out of his pants, sliding his hands up underneath so he can touch the skin of his back and belly. Danny finally pulls away, sucks in a breath and leans his head against the wall. Rusty kisses him again before he can say anything, because Danny always wants to talk and Rusty doesn't want to hear it right now, doesn't want to be talked out of it, or into it, or around it. He just wants to touch Danny's bare skin, feel Danny's cock hot and hard against his own, and with a deft touch he has Danny's trousers shoved down over his hips.

It's almost like they're boys again, jerking each other off beneath the boardwalk while some other kids' bonfire burns in the distance and they can see the stars through the holes in the wood. Except it's nothing like that, because they're in the elevator of an LA high rise, and they left those boys behind a long time ago, though Danny's sure fingers tremble for just a second as they unzip Rusty's fly.

All the air leaves Rusty's lungs in a whoosh as Danny's cock slides along his. Danny cups the back of his head, pulls him in for another kiss, tongues thrusting in the same fervent rhythm as their hips. Heat floods Rusty's veins as Danny's movements grow erratic and he comes, hot and sticky and wet all over both of them, his hands tightening painfully in Rusty's short hair. The pain brings him back to himself for a moment, and he finds himself vaguely hoping his suit won't stain before Danny reaches down and strokes him quick and hard, until he can't think at all. His vision whites out for a few seconds as he comes, pleasure shuddering through him in waves, and he clings to Danny, sliding his lips along Danny's jaw before dropping his head down on Danny's shoulder. Danny holds him up and the wall holds Danny up, and they are the only two people in the world. Rusty used to think it would be like this forever, but it's not and he's okay with that.

Danny drops kisses in Rusty's hair, against his ear and temple before sliding his lips over Rusty's jaw. He is silent now, and calmer.

Rusty does the best he can to clean up, pulling a silk handkerchief from his pocket, and Danny does the same. They learned a lot from those old movies, more than they ever learned in school.

When he restarts the elevator, they share a wicked grin before bursting into laughter like the delinquent boys they once were, and Rusty knows that whatever else happens, he and Danny are at their best together.

end