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Attraction	By : Aja Category: Individual Celebrities > Brad Hawkins Views: 1083 -:- Recommendations : 0 -:- Currently Reading : 0
Disclaimer: This is a work of fiction. I do not know the celebrity I am writing about. I do not make any money from the writing of this story.

Chapter List
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Pairing: Brad Hawkins/Norman Reedus
Rating: R
Disclaimer: Hahaha, yeah, like this ever happened.
Note: continuation of .
Bed Head & Morning Breath
Brad woke early, arm hanging off the edge of the bed and a slight wet patch on the pillow under his chin because he'd fallen asleep on his stomach, mouth open. Muttering, he wiped his chin and turned the pillow over, then rolled onto his back, then his side, so he could look at Norman.
And he wondered, staring at messy, sand-coloured hair and freckled shoulders, what had made him come all the way to New York for a man he'd met and fucked once. Not simply the way bruised, purplish skin (grape, he thought) had complimented those pretty, watery blue eyes, surely? Not the chewed down fingernails, or the thumb that always lingered somewhere close to sexy, soft lips, though both were a definite turn-on. Yeah, Norman was beautiful, but that wasn't it. Brad could find beautiful men closer to home, he knew that.
So what was it?
Norman surrendered easily, but it hadn't really felt like that to Brad. Not that it felt like a struggle, it just seemed... Natural. As though Norman opening up his mouth and his body for Brad was the only way it could be. Did he just like the power that gave him?
Hey, he whispered, hooking his thumb over Norman's lower lip. You gotta be anywhere today?
Hm? Norman blinked sleepily, left his eyes closed on the third blink and just sucked Brad's thumb into his mouth instead. Invited Brad closer to him by shifting his leg and sucking harder.
Well, I don't need to go home till tomorrow morning, Brad explained, certain that Norman wasn't paying much attention anyway.
Stay, Norman managed, muffled around a wet thumb.
Brad could feel Norman holding his breath, shuffled across to kiss his mouth and tasted the bitterness of morning on his tongue. Yeah, he said.
Ten Across
They hadn't left the room all morning. Someone had called by just after ten, but Norman had dismissed them, said he had a headache and he'd be out later but right now he just wanted to sleep. He'd closed the door and returned to bed and Brad's kisses. Lazy and minty, since they'd both freshened up by that time, teeth nipped to urge an answer to ten across: period preceding an event.
Norman just folded one arm beneath his head and stared at the ceiling. Foreplay? He suggested.
You think I flew all this way just for sex? Brad asked, poking Norman's stomach with the end of his biro.
I don't think you came out here for the crosswords. Accusation behind those words, and curiosity. An invitation for Brad to elaborate on just what he did fly to this city for.
Shit. The pen had leaked, black ink on the fold of skin between Brad's thumb and forefinger. Muttering, he tossed the pen and the newspaper aside, and turned abruptly, almost angrily, to reach for Norman's wrists and pin them to the pillow. Smudged ink got smeared across Norman's pulse point, bruiselike. Under Brad, Norman relaxed, surrendered. But there was a challenge there still, a challenge which Brad could do nothing but rise to.
Somewhere between the smack of skin on skin, the occasional grunt of effort and the silkier sounds of pleasure, Brad was rolled over, onto his back. He watched Norman rise above him like a shy God, grabbed for his hips when he was taken in again, halting but tight.
Good/Great
Another condom in the trash, and Norman sprawled on Brad, accentuating the heavy, pleasant ache in Brad's limbs. I want to know you, Brad said, suddenly, because it seemed important to say it right then. Before he forgot and became, yet again, entranced with the curve of Norman's hip or the way his fingers twitched. See? I didn't just come out here for this.
You don't want to know me, Norman whispered back, huddling closer. It's okay, Brad. Sex is good. This, this is fine. And Norman kissed him, which was unexpected, sharp like a stab of daylight through blinds and just as hot. Okay, not just good. Great.
Brad frowned. I don't give a fuck about it being good or great. I just wanted it to be with you. Pulling away from Norman, he turned over again, wondered what the fuck he was doing in New York with this guy. A moment of weakness, or madness?
Fuck, he heard Norman breathe. You really didn't come out here just for that, did you?
Laugh it up, huh?
Norman didn't answer. Brad stiffened at the touch to his shoulder, but it wasn't a comforting touch at all. It was Norman, testing the water. Waiting for him to surrender.
I don't go to bed with just anyone, Norman said, voice like fine sand. You looked like... Zeus or something, up on that stage.
Brad almost rolled his eyes, but the sincerity in those words stopped him. It's the only place I can be, he replied, lifting his head so he could see Norman looking down at him.
Not the only place.
Brad had to laugh at that. Turned all the way and reached up to cup his hand over Norman's shoulder, let the touch run down his arm. And we're back to the great sex again, he said, shaking his head.
I told you. I don't just fall into bed with the first guy I see. You know enough about me and you'll probably figure out more, but I'm not going to sit here going over my life history just to justify your coming to New York.
Fine, Brad said. So I won't feel the need to rationalize anything you might do in future. Like coming out to see me.
Leavin' On A Jet Plane
I'll come, alright?
Brad nodded, forcing a smile. Of course you will. Thanks, by the way. I don't think I said it, so thanks for last night. For dinner and... He wiped at the smudge of eyeliner still there, beneath Norman's lashes, but just made it worse. You might want to clean that up, looks like you've been fighting with gravity again.
Yeah, I'll get it, Norman said, looking so pretty at that moment with the smear of black under one eye and a still slightly glittery lower lip between his teeth. You're gonna be late.
Brad thought I'll call you when I get home. Didn't promise anything, though.
A last kiss snatched, and Brad hefted his bag up over his shoulder, left Norman's room quickly, because he'd finally managed to convince himself that he didn't need to stay. That he might even see Norman again sometime.
I'll come, Norman called after him, and Brad just waved without turning around.
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Attraction