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the night is ours

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The night is ours
Until tomorrow

Taron’s kisses are always sharp and biting, enthusiastic in ways that drive Colin wild and he’d be remiss if he didn’t respond in kind.  Taron has a hand at the back of Colin’s neck and one held tight against his chest while they sit in the back of the car passing time in the best way possible.  It’s their last event together, last premiere before Taron goes home to prepare for his next film and Colin continues with the Kingsman press for two more weeks.

“We should just lock the doors, call up the driver and tell him to keep going until he runs out of gas,”  Taron mumbles between their lips, refusing to pull away, fingers twitching at the back of Colin’s neck, obviously itching to run them through his hair.  But they have strict rules for the time periods before public appearances.  Sex hair looks good, yes, but both of them emerging from the car with sex hair and glassy eyes would just be uncouth.

“While I find that idea very intriguing, shirking your obligations is no way to make an impression.  And that’s pretty much all you should be worried about at this point.”  He trails his kisses down Taron’s jaw and along his neck, teasing his teeth along the softly fading mark that will be hidden by Taron’s scarf once he replaces it.  The soft gasp it earns him and the way Taron’s fingers curl at the back of his neck bring a smile to his lips.

“Fine.”  He tries to huff, to sound exasperated, but it’s lost in the quiet sounds of pleasure.  “You are the expert.”

“Damn right I am.”  Colin gives him another lingering, close-mouthed kiss before pulling back to help him get his clothing looking pristine and untouched again.   

They manage to keep their hands to themselves for the last few minutes, other than wardrobe corrections, of course.  But it’s the last few minutes that are the most important.  The windows may be tinted but you never know how closely people may be looking as you pull up to the red carpet.

This thing between them is only as old as the press tour, new and exciting, born of their undeniable chemistry and attraction towards each other on the set.  They’d parted after filming with teases and innuendos but nothing more, Colin promising to continue teaching Taron how to handle the industry (if he wanted) during his first proper junket when they came back together.  While Colin had his fantasies before, he was never one to make assumptions, and always cautious with anyone he ever thought about approaching.  But that first night Taron had made it perfectly clear that assumptions weren’t necessary.  After hours and hours of cameras and interviews, all one after the other, and a seemingly endless repetition of the same questions over and over, they were both bone-tired and exhausted.  Colin attributes that evening’s exchange to being sleep-drunk, though he’s never once regretted it.  Colin had leaned in, lips closer to Taron’s ear than necessary, and had said something akin to needing to find something more interesting to do before he went insane.  To which the younger man had taken a deep breath and smirked, responding with “I’ve been told I’m pretty interesting.”

Colin had spent the last hour of the interviews re-imagining all the fantasies he’d had during their time on set and half hard, legs crossed to maintain some sense of decency.

God bless him, Taron had been insatiable.  He was solid and eager, kissed like he would never get enough and responded to every single one of Colin’s touches in such beautiful ways that Colin could have gotten off just watching the way his mouth went slack and the way he dropped his head back when he came.

Thinking about it now, about all the time they’ve spent together on and off over the last several months, Colin aches to just pull him into his lap and agree to Taron’s earlier suggestion.  He thinks about marking up that beautiful neck, about rutting against each other, about the way Taron’s hips can move with such sinful precision.  Colin groans and adjusts himself just as the crowd waiting for them comes into view.  Not for the first time, he’s incredibly thankful they’re doing most of this in the winter months and they’re both currently in long, thick jackets.

“Penny for your thoughts?”  Taron leans in and speaks quietly with a smirk, but Colin just rolls his eyes.

Their car pulls to a stop and just before someone pulls the door open, Colin assures him, “I’ll be sure to share all of them with you once we’re through with this mess.”

A sad sort of smile comes over Taron, but it’s just a flash of sorrow and it’s gone.  They’ve been friends and – whatever they are now – long enough that Colin genuinely cares for the young man, but there are already people standing at their door waiting for them. There is no time to say anything, no time to worry.  Taron grips Colin’s hand, slipping something small and solid into it with a wink as he slides out of the car.  “I look forward to it.”

He’s gone a moment later, leaving Colin alone and confused, looking down at the little device in his hand.  It’s round with a small radial dial at the side and nothing else, perfectly discreet enough that he could even hold it in his palm without having to tuck it in his pocket and no one would notice.

But what it actually does brings a smile to Colin’s lips that even the most obnoxious of reporters he’s about to face won’t be able to wipe away.

Colin slides to the edge of the bench, turning so his legs are out of the car and pauses, rolling his thumb along the radial until it clicks and watches, entranced, as Taron’s entire body twitches and his eyelids flutter for the briefest of moments.  At the moment he doesn’t know if it’s a cock ring or a plug, but Colin doesn’t fucking care.  All that matters is the flush slowly creeping into Taron’s cheeks while a stylist tidies up his hair before unleashing him to the vultures.

These events - premieres, junkets, panels – all tend to run together, but Colin already knows this is going to be one of the most memorable.




The red carpet never seems to end.  The two of them stay mostly together, rarely split up as most of the reporters seem to enjoy their banter, feed it even, throwing out questions that encourage them to pick and tease at one another.  For a while Colin keeps the controller hidden away in his pocket.  Slowly but surely, however, Taron starts gushing again, getting that vacant, glassy eyed look that Colin absolutely adores.  He scoffs every time, but Taron sees right through it.  This time though, he stares right back, fingers at the remote in his pocket until it clicks and nearly laughs in victory.  Taron stutters his words, his eyes gone wide, and spins back around to face their reporter in order to avoid suspicion over the fact that his whole body had just reacted to some kind of hidden stimulus.  Colin really fucking wants to know what that is.  He wants to chase the flush creeping down his neck that everyone but Colin is going to attribute to the biting cold wind.  Colin knows better.  With attention still not focused on him, Colin licks his lips and adjusts his coat, smoothing down the front as discreetly as possible.  He doesn’t realize he’s forgotten about the controller until Taron nudges him in the foot.

“Please.”  He’s laughing, and looking rather pointedly over at him.  “Colin would never stoop so low.”  He’s not sure what Taron is talking about, but he recognizes the desperation in his eyes, the light that sparks there when he’s fighting with himself not to drag Colin away by the lapels.  He’d almost done it once, in an interview where they were discussing the physical demands of the film.  But Colin has mercy on him, and himself if he’s honest, and flicks the controller off.  Taron’s entire body deflates, like he’s been holding his breath and can suddenly breathe again.  The way his chest is rising and falling, lips gently parted, is entrancing and Colin is so distracted the reporter they’re standing in front of has to repeat her question.


And Taron never lets up, slipping private jokes into his answers, things that no one will understand are funny – or usually lewd – except for Colin.  He gets a flick from the controller every time, and Colin would say he was doing it on purpose except that he’s actually behaving far better than he usually does.

When they make it to the building and get man handled into position for a round of endless photos, Colin takes the opportunity to finally ask what he’s been wondering for the last hour.  He puts his hand on Taron’s shoulder so they are naturally close.  There’s still a bit of a crowd between them and the press but it’s dispersing quickly.  “I’m dying to know not only how you’re concealing how hard you must be right now, but what exactly I’ve been torturing you with all night.”

As the crowd finally begins to thin out enough they both make an attempt to look towards the cameras, flashes going off from every angle, people shouting, and music somewhere in the distance.  And the two of them right there in the spot light.  It’s chaos all around them, but it’s around them, separate.  Colin and Taron may be at the center of it all but they are very much in their own little cocoon of a world, looking out.  “Extremely tight underwear and this ridiculous coat.”  Taron says through his smile, lips barely moving.  Colin smiles as well, thankful for his own choice in constricting underwear.  He’s not as desperate as Taron must be but he is far from unaffected.  “Also,” Taron turns and ignores the cameras, hiding his lips just behind Colin’s ear, breath warm and inviting on his neck.  “I’m so fucking hard I hurt and I need your cock about five minutes ago.”  As he’s speaking two men walk past them and Colin freezes, looking a bit shell shocked despite knowing full well that was nowhere near loud enough to go beyond the two of them.  But then Taron is smirking, catching Colin’s gaze while he drags his thumb along his own bottom lip.  “Just glad once we’re alone I won’t have to wait.”

Colin covers his own mouth, eyes following the line of Taron’s thumb, focused on the soft pink that blossoms on his lip from the pressure.  He drags his hand down his face and tries not to look as turned on as he feels even as Taron slaps him on the back and turns back to the cameras with his bright and beautiful laugh.

It’s dangerous, the game they’re playing right now with all these people watching, hundreds of cameras, professional and novice alike pointed straight at them.  They aren’t hiding anything from the people who really need to know about them – well, the one person who needs to know who supports them wholeheartedly – but that doesn’t mean a single piece of what they are together is available for public consumption.

Doesn’t stop Colin from flicking the dial to full for two seconds before switching it off again.

The gasp that it elicits followed by Taron’s bright laugh to cover it up is completely worth it.





The last three times they’ve done a premiere both men insisted on sitting in the back on the edge so they could escape when they grew tired of the movie.  Each previous time their escape had been completely innocent, gone to the lounge to kill time since they’d both had their fill of the film.  This evening, however, Colin and Taron were both fully aware they wouldn’t make it half way through before much less virtuous desires pulled them away.

Colin makes it to the car chase before he starts idly playing with the controller in his pocket, running his thumb up and down the dial, never really shutting it off completely.  Next to him Taron squirms constantly, shifting in his seat, occasionally staring at Colin like he will come in his pants any moment now.  No one is paying them any attention, and the temptation to press his hand to Taron’s crotch, to squeeze him and work him through his trousers is nearly maddening.  He’s got absolutely no clue what scene is on the screen when Taron grabs him by the thigh and digs his fingers in, nodding back towards the exit behind them that leads to the private lounge.

They leave their coats and jackets in the seats and quietly make their escape, walking as casually as they possibly can, passing only a few lingering employees on their way by.

Luckily the small bathroom off the lounge has no one loitering anywhere near it and is completely empty.

Colin locks the door and has Taron pressed against it in a bruising kiss with one single motion.  He licks into his mouth, bites the boy’s lips and rocks hard against him, the heat that has been building all night pouring out between them. There’s a hand curled in his hair, another clinging to his arm while Colin works on Taron’s fly, freeing his cock to the cold air.  Taron hisses into Colin’s mouth, shifting to a deep and muffled moan.  “Fuck, Colin.  You’ve got to fuck me.  Please.  Right fucking now.”  He tries to rut up into Colin’s hand, but Colin keeps his touch feather light against the red, lean length of his prick, reaching his long fingers back, gently circling his sack before tracing the ring of tight muscle holding the toy in tight.

“I think you’ll have to wait, you little,” he bites at Taron’s neck, licking the sweat from his skin.  “…fucking…” in his hand Colin kicks the dial up to full, drinking in the breathy gasp it earns him.  “…tease.”

Taron nearly shouts when Colin pushes on the toy, shifts the angle down just a touch and makes tiny, deep movements with it.  Taron throws a fist up to his own mouth and bites down hard in an attempt not to make too much noise.  Something Colin had learned very early on was that Taron could not come untouched.  It had been an exhilarating few days testing the limits of that and even now he’s tempted to push, rolling the dial under his thumb in sporadic movements so Taron won’t know when or what to brace for.  But Colin needs this too much, needs to feel him, to taste him, to lose himself in the way Taron so greedily takes the pleasure Colin offers.

So he sinks to his knees, looking up at Taron with a smirk at the younger man looks down at him, lips swollen and breathless.  He twists his fingers in Colin’s hair and groans.  “I won’t last two seconds like that.”  Colin kisses along his length, drags the flat of his tongue along the vein at the bottom then flicks it lightly against his slit, savoring the bitter tang of precome.  Taron’s eyes are wide open, out of focus but trying so hard to watch.  In his own pants Colin’s cock aches for some kind of pressure, anything at all.

“That’s the point my dear.”  And he swallows him to the hilt, barely even worrying when Taron’s head hits the door with a loud thunk and a curse.  With every movement of his head, bobbing back and forth, lips in a tight vice around his cock, Colin slowly amps the vibrations back up.  He can feel them in his mouth, in the way Taron’s cockhead drags along his soft palate.  Taron’s hands grip tighter in Colin’s hair and he lets him have complete control, relaxing his jaw while his mouth is used for the briefest of moments when Taron snaps his hips, fucking deeply before he starts to come.  Colin swallows as much and as fast as he can.  It’s thick and bitter and he never wants it to fucking end, savoring what’s left on his tongue even as he licks his lover clean.





“Fucking Christ, Taron.”  The toy wasn’t as big as he thought it would be and he’s still too tight.

“Don’t, don’t waste time, fuck, just come on, please.”

He moves his two fingers in and out in a slow pace, stretching him while Colin bites at his neck, nips just below Taron’s ear.  “You didn’t bring a condom, dear.”  Taron is facing the wall, braced against it, feet apart, and Colin holds a small packet in his hand that he had fished out of the younger man’s pockets.

“No, I…” he whines and shakes his head, spreading his legs even further and rocking his hips out.  The sight is so obscene, Colin fucking loves it, could watch the way his body silently begs for him all night.  “I want to feel you.  Please.”  Colin’s shudders at this words, cock throbbing.  “Want to be dripping the rest of the night.”

And just like that Colin has waited long enough.  His head is buzzing with desire, with how much he has wanted that very thing for even longer than they’ve been together.  He pulls his hand free and wrenches open the tiny packet, slicking himself thoroughly before pressing his cock just at Taron’s entrance.  “You are so fucking filthy,”  he grits out while he pushes in with one smooth roll of his hips.  Colin watches in awe, the way Taron opens up so beautifully for him, takes him in, stretched wide.

Taron is breathless, voice almost a whisper.  “You fucking love it.”

His body is super-heated, tight enough that Colin has to hold still so he doesn’t immediately lose it, his hands shaking at Taron’s hips. “Of course I do.”  He says with a broken voice.  “Love your perfect, cock sucking lips.”  Colin draws his hips back slowly and then snaps them forward, Taron mewling, Colin biting his own lips to keep his own noises muffled.  “Love your cock….”  He does it again and Taron rolls his hips to meet him.  Both of them curse, Colin leaning far enough forward to mouth at Taron’s neck, to speak so sweetly against the shell of his ear.  “How you choke me with it when you fuck my face.” Colin starts really moving, a slow, shallow rock of his hips that drives the tension up his spine in sharp spikes, so achingly slow he starts losing his breath.

“Christ, Colin” Taron’s words are needy, desperate and he arches his back, turning his head to try and steal a sloppy kiss while Colin is helpless to do anything but oblige.  He’s so mad for this boy, for so much more than his body, for his smile and his laugh, for his huge fucking heart.  It’s intoxicating, everything he wants, everything he feels, and Colin knows this is going to be over too fucking soon.

He holds on and starts to snap his hips repeatedly, watching himself disappear into Taron’s body, losing himself to the deliciously wet heat.  “Fuck, I love the way you look when I fuck you.”  He speaks through gritted teeth, feeling his release building exponentially with every thrust.  “All filthy and stretched open, like you were fucking made for me.”

“Yes.  Yes, fuck, Colin.  Made for you…”  He moves against Colin, one arm pressed firm against the door so he can meet each snap of his hips.  “Fuck, I love your cock.  Please. Come on, make me feel it, let me feel you come.”  Taron has his hand on his own cock, and Colin can only see that he’s jacking himself with quick snaps of his wrists from the way his arm is moving.  He would stop him, insisting on doing it for him, but he’s too far gone himself.  His toes curl in his shoes as he balances on the sharp edge of release.  A litany of curses spills from Taron’s mouth, over and over until he’s coming again, muscles clenching around Colin’s cock, shocking his own orgasm from him in an instant.  It punches through his gut, pours through his spine with an exquisite heat and every inch of his body feels impossibly light as he spills, eventually stilling as the last few pulses surge through him.  He drops his head forward, onto Taron’s shoulder, chest heaving with the effort to catch his breath.

“You’re bloody amazing.”  He breathes out against Taron’s neck, watching the way the younger man shivers at the ghosting of his breath.  Colin is boneless, surprised he’s able to continue standing with the after effects of his release still coursing through his veins.

The soft laugh Taron lets out is a quiet sound, something that Colin absolutely loves hearing.  “Hmm, yeah.  I am, aren’t I?”  He clenches his muscles around Colin, sending shocks of sensations through his spine and making Colin gasp.  Taron is being fucking cheeky and really, what can Colin do but smack him with a quick, open palmed slap against his flank.






The after party drags on much longer than either of them hopes for.  Colin purposely keeps his distance from Taron because he knows he wouldn’t be able to keep his hands to himself, not with how much he wants to steal the boy away completely for himself for as long as physically possible.  They catch each other’s gaze every now and then, and Taron always winks.  He wishes he still had the controller, but a well lit room with people all around was a horrible place to play that game.  The thing that drives Colin crazy about the party is all of the people who hit on Taron.  It’s not a new occurrence; he’s officially single and a fucking beautiful young man, and Taron always flirts right back.  It’s fun to watch usually, the way he comes alive with the attention, how his eyes light up.  But tonight they are out in droves, swarming him.  He supposes it’s that they’re in New York and American girls are notorious for falling for an accent.  But the constant steady flush on his cheeks, the tussled look of his hair, how he probably reeks of pheromones and sex are all much more likely contributors.  Colin is having a much harder time staying away and not laying claim, feeling unusually possessive for someone who usually shares so easily.  But this is different, this is that gut churning feeling of ‘mine’ that he’s never really noticed around Taron before.  Maybe it’s the number of women fawning over him.

But maybe it’s the fact that he knows this is the last night he’ll see him for quite some time.

It’s pushing three am by the time they make it to their hotel.  To keep up appearances they technically have separate rooms.  But they haven’t slept apart any night they’ve been in the same city since the beginning of the tour.  They’re both tired, exhausted not just physically but mentally as well.

“This isn’t fair.”  Taron whines, drawing his tie through his collar while Colin locks their door.  He tosses it over the small couch then starts working on his buttons.  There’s more than frustration in his voice, disappointment, something deeper.

So Colin goes to stand behind him, peppers his neck with soft kisses and wraps his arms around the younger man’s torso, working his buttons for him.  “What’s wrong, dear boy.”

Taron laughs.  He always does when Colin calls him that.  “I had planned on a proper fuck.  Make me scream, remember you for a week every time I sat down, fuck.”

Colin nips at his ear, draws his hands up his chest and hums.  “And that’s out of the question, why?”

“I can barely stand, Col.” Even through his disappointment Taron reacts to the attentions, laying his head back on Coin’s shoulder with a soft sigh.

There is no way he’s not going to make him come at least once more tonight.  Colin uses one hand to undo the button of Taron’s fly slowly undoing his zip, teasing his fingers through the soft dusting of hair that leads down to his cock.  “You realize,” he murmurs against his ear.  “That it doesn’t have to be rough and bruising to be memorable.”  Taron shakes in Colin’s arms and Colin smiles against his neck.  “Come to bed.  I’ll show you.”





Clean, sated and yawning, they settle in beneath the blankets, limbs tangled, Taron resting his head over Colin’s heart.  Colin runs his fingers through Taron’s hair, basking in the light tingle still running through his skin.  Occasionally he scratches at his scalp and gets a soft hum for his trouble and smiles even more.  The sound reverberates through his chest until Colin is laughing.

Taron is incredibly tactile.  This is nothing new.  But he’s clinging tonight, which he doesn’t usually do.  Not that Colin minds in the slightest, especially given how much he knows he’s going to miss the boy.  “Taron.”  He presses a lingering kiss into his hair.  “Are you alright?”  He’s been different all evening and it wasn’t just the overt sexual playfulness.

For a moment he is silent, and Colin waits.  But then he sighs and starts tracing odd shapes on Colin’s chest.  “It’s stupid.”

“Of course it isn’t.”  He insists without hesitation.  “Tell me.  Please?”

Taron lifts his head and lays an arm across Colin’s chest, propping his chin on it and staring at him in silence.  His gaze is studying, searching, and he licks his lips before answering.  “I’m just going to miss this.”  He says slowly, taking a deep breath like he’s not quite finished and figuring out what to say.  There is something in his eyes like sorrow and the hint of a pout on his lips that he looks like he’s biting back.

“I will miss you terribly,” Colin agrees, breaking the silence.  He runs his fingers through Taron’s soft hair again with a small smile.  “But you’ll be back in London soon enough and with any luck I’ll be there waiting for you.  I don’t have too many obligations keeping me from home this year.”

He seems to process Colin’s words, looking off to the side.  But then he lifts himself up, propped on his hands, confusion evident on his face.  “Wait.  What do you mean?”

“I’m afraid I will have to ask you to clarify that question.”  Colin asks, sitting up on his elbows.

Taron pulls away completely then, sitting upright at Colin’s side and tugs his own lip.  There’s a spark of hope in his eyes, but his voice is unsure.  “I thought, when this was all over, you would… I don’t know, go back to your life, and consider me a fond memory and fun distraction from another endless press tour.”

In his chest Colin’s heart skips a beat and he takes a shaken breath.  When he sits up, face to face with Taron, looking deeply into the brilliant green of his eyes, he holds it all in.  “Is that… is that what you want?”

There’s more cracks in his voice than even he had expected to hear.

But the way Taron shakes his head, cracks a smile and is suddenly clinging to him again, is a wash of relief that gives him air again.  “Not a fuckin’ chance.”

Colin pulls him in for a kiss that is warm and familiar.  Their lips slot together, moving slow but with purpose, Taron opening up, letting him in.  The heat of their intimacy radiates through his body and just like always, Colin never wants to let go.  He cups his face and runs his thumb across Taron’s cheek.  “Did you honestly think I was going to let you get away from me so easily?”  Colin speaks quietly, pouring his heart into the reassurance in his words.

Taron shrugs and tries to look down.  “There are dozens of factors that had led me to that conclusion.”

“You could have just asked.”  He presses another kiss to the corner of his mouth with a small smile of his own.  “I fully expected you to come stay with us anytime we were both home.”

“I would think Liv would get tired of seeing me around.”

At that Colin laughs.  She adores him almost as much as Colin does.  “Fairly certain she’d rather have you in our bed than listen to me complain about you being off with some other actor for months on end… again.”

Taron’s eyes grow wide and he looks up, mouth agape.  “You didn’t.”  There’s an excited light in his eyes, and a blush spreading across his cheeks.

“Of course I did.”


“I may have been jealous.” Colin admits with a smirk and not a shred of shame.  He hadn’t recognized it for what it was at first, but once a certain someone had been kind enough to point it out to him, there was no denying it.

“You?”  The disbelief is overwhelming and any worry or fear that may have been eating at Taron seems to be gone.  His smile is beautiful and Colin’s chest feels even more tight than usual.

“Am I not allowed?”

“I… I just… I mean of course you are but… Fuck, Colin.”  He brackets Colin’s face in his hands and kisses him again.  It’s a sharp, deep kiss, with teeth and a needy slide of tongues.  Colin bites at Taron’s bottom lip, drags it through his teeth and Taron’s hands slip back into Colin’s hair where he holds on, guiding their movements for ages.  Colin’s hands go everywhere, down his chest, up his back, gliding along the smooth surface of Taron’s naked skin, reveling in the warmth of him, in the way they move together, the small gasps Taron lets out between them.  They’re both tired, spent, and their kiss will go no further, but it isn’t about that, isn’t a start to something more because at the moment, it’s all they need – their connection, their reassurances.

Their promises.

As they lay back down, kisses further and further apart, Taron nuzzles into Colin’s neck and settles in again.  “You know,” Colin says quietly, never quite stopping the soft press of his lips to whatever he can reach.  “If you’re interested in working with me again, I’ve been getting people inquiring about my interest in Broadway.”

With a sleepy moan, Taron lifts his head, smiling.  “Oh?”

“Mmhmm.  My fair lady.”

Taron looks incredibly suspicious, probably fueled by the playful smirk Colin gives him.

“You could audition for Eliza.”

Taron’s jaw drops in surprise even as he starts laughing and grabs a pillow to smack Colin in the face. And Colin is so happy, warm and content with this brilliant young man in his arms, who laughs so easily and who he cares for far more deeply than he'd ever expected.  It's just the two of them right now and for a little while, nothing else matters.

These are the moments Colin will miss the most.