Chapter Text
Bradley stares across the desk at Beau "Cyclone" Simpson, wondering if one or either of them has just had a stroke, therefore explaining whatever the fuck it was that Bradley had just heard. " Excuse me?"
Cyclone merely raises an eyebrow at him. "I think you heard."
Next to Bradley, Hangman sits back and crosses his arms, a shit-eating grin on his face that Bradley just immediately wants to punch off.
“You can’t be serious.”
"Look," Cyclone says, "I know you've both had your differences in the past. We've done our best to respect your wishes and keep you separate where we can , but the viewers have spoken, Rooster. The last poll —"
Bradley scoffs.
Cyclone raises an eyebrow. That's it. Just raises an eyebrow. And Bradley drops silent.
Satisfied, Cyclone continues slowly, "The last poll we took, ninety percent of our viewers voted that they wanted to see Rooster and Hangman together. Alone. Turns out, if two of your highest earning actors don't have scenes together, people are going to notice."
"But—"
A low, grating chuckle erupts from the man next to him. "This is better than HBO."
Bradley whirls around. “ You’re okay with this?”
Hangman raises his arms in a lazy stretch and cricks his neck. "Sure. Why not?”
"You hate filming with me."
"Eh." Hangman shrugs. "I'm okay with it. We'll just have to work out some kinks in our filming first."
Bradley scoffs. "There will be no kinks. There will be absolutely no kinks."
Cyclone looks at him.
"What?"
"About that."
*****
“Me. They want me to sub for Hangman. For Hangman. Tell me that's not the most ridiculous thing you've ever heard."
Nat sighs. "Yes, Bradley, it is. It was also the most ridiculous thing we ever heard the last 400 times you said it."
Bradley rolls his eyes. They're in the dining lounge, which can always be trusted to have at least a half-dozen of the actors there, refuelling during their breaks from their shoots. Usually, they sit in relative quiet, perhaps a few hushed conversations going on here or there, everyone too exhausted from their jobs to try to keep up small talk (and, really, how do you transition from 'fuck me harder' to 'nice weather we're having' anyway?). Today, he's amassed quite an audience; everyone gathering around to share their thoughts on Hangman and Bradley's current predicament — which, he is gratified to see, aligns with his own. Hangman and his henchmen are thankfully away in some other part of the studio. He's being unfair; most of the time, he likes Coyote and the others, but right now, he has no grace left for anyone associated with the man.
"Well that's because it bears repeating," Bradley says, taking a big bite of his now-cold food. "Who would let Hangman dom anyone anyway ? He's bad enough as it is!"
"It's true," Fritz says, "I'm always scared he's going to cross a line when we're filming, you know?"
"Has he?" Harvard asks.
Fritz shakes his head. "Naw, but it always feels like he's going to. It takes me, like, ten minutes to relax and get into it whenever I film with him."
"Same here," Fanboy says.
"Yeah man," Omaha says, "me too."
Nat shakes her head. "Well, he's never tried any of that shit with me."
"He's probably too scared of you," Bradley tells her, staring down at his food morosely.
"Yeah. He should be."
"Is there any way you can get out of it?" Yale asks. "Can't you just say no?"
Bradley shakes his head. "Cyclone seems pretty damn determined. And you know the only person he really listens to is—"
"—Hangman," everyone finishes together.
A heavy silence follows.
"Damn," someone says (Payback, he thinks).
Bradley nods. "Yup."
He was fucked, in every sense of the word. And they all knew it.
“Hangman’s not so bad.”
At those soft-spoken words, the whole room stills.
Bradley blinks. He looks to Payback who blinks back at him, to Nat who also blinks back at him; to Fanboy, to Lax, to Triple-A — all of whom also blink back at him.
Slowly, as one, they turn to see Bob sitting only a few seats away. Bradley doesn't have to check to know that everyone else is thinking the same thing as him: when the hell had Bob gotten here and how long has he been here?
And also: since fucking when has Bob thought Hangman isn't that bad? Last they all heard, Bob's dislike for Hangman was rivaled only by that of Natasha and Bradley.
Bob flushes when he notices everyone's attention is on him and lifts his shoulders. “He takes good care of me during our sessions.” He drops his gaze and clears his throat, the flush becoming a much deeper red. “ Really, good care.”
Bradley takes that in. Come to think of it, Bob and Hangman haven't really bashed heads since their private sessions started a few months ago. No one knows what happens during Hangman and Bob’s sessions. They’re fully private, encrypted, live-stream only with no script and a single vlogging camera and Bob never really discusses it. Bradley had always assumed it was because he didn't want to relive the trauma. That seems to have been the wrong assumption.
"Are you serious?"
Bob shrugs and turns back to his snack of coffee and peanuts. "As the only person here who has actually subbed for Hangman, I'm just saying you might want to give him a chance."
"Give him a chance?" Bradley scoffs. "I've given him plenty of chances and he's always pulled his usual Hangman shit, which is just—"
*****
"—I mean it's ridiculous! First of all, he's always the one who goes rogue during the shoots and he's always the one who brats. If that's not someone who needs to be put in their place, I don’t know—ow!”
He turns to glare over his shoulder at Nat, his ass stinging from the sharp slap she’d just delivered.
“What the hell ?”
She spanks him again.
“ Stop talking about other people while I’m fingering you.” To emphasize her point, she scissors her two fingers she has buried inside him.
"You—"
"As a matter of fact, stop talking." She reaches for the strap-on next to her and throws it at his head. "Come on, show this thing a good time."
Grumbling, Bradley positions the strap-on in front of him and raises himself to his elbows before opening his mouth and taking the tip of the dildo in his mouth. It tastes like silicone and plastic, but he moans lewdly, because, hey, it's porn.
"Yeah?" Nat breathes as she curls her fingers, sending a tingling feeling all the way down to his toes. "You like that, baby? You like how I taste?"
Bradley moans again, louder this time and takes the toy deeper in his mouth.
"Keep going just like that. Get it wet for me so I can fuck you with it later."
He hums in approval and sinks down even further, bobbing his head up and down.
Nat adds a third finger, and this time when she pumps her fingers inside him, she hits his prostate dead on. Bradley groans and almost lifts his head off the toy, but Nat knows him too well and she fists his hair in her free hand and forces him back down.
Fuck . Bradley moans as she keeps pressing on his prostate, but he obeys her silent command, and concentrates on showing the strap-on the time of its life.
It's nice, actually. Not having anything to worry about but the saliva dripping down his chin and the lube sliding down his crack. His mouth is occupied, there is nothing for him to say, and Nat seems to know what she wants tonight, so there's nothing for him to do but play along. A haze falls over Bradley and for the first time since his meeting with Cyclone, Bradley is able to relax.
Still, he thinks, as she continues to drive him crazy with her fingers, it would be nice if she'd get a move on.
He doesn't know how much time passes, but eventually, Nat withdraws her fingers and climbs off the bed to come around and tug him off the strap-on.
Fucking, finally. He is finally going to get fucked.
Grinning, he helps Nat put the toy on (not an easy feat at this stage of the shoot when they're both so turned on), then gamely keeps his mouth open as she cups the back of his hand and fucks his mouth for a good half-dozen thrusts.
"Alright," Nat says, pulling away. She grins down at him and climbs back on the bed and tugs him so that he's lying on his back. "Let's get this show on the road."
"Thank fuck for that," Bradley says, spreading his legs so she can slot between them.
Nat shoots him a look, to which he only grins. With a roll of her eyes, she lets herself fall forward, so that her small frame brackets his body and her long brown hair waterfalls around them.
"You're a mouthy piece of shit, you know that?"
He smirks. "What're you going to do about it?"
She smirks back — her devious, devious smirk, that usually means Bradley is in trouble — and takes hold of his legs, wrapping them around herself and then leaning forward until his back is curved and she's lined the toy against his rim.
She stays there.
"Come on," Bradley goads, "you gonna do something with that?"
Nat raises an eyebrow and she sinks down just enough that only the smallest tip of her strap-on pushes past his rim.
"Come on," he says again, "you're boring me. You want me to start talking about Hangman again?"
The smile she gives him is angelic, but Bradley knows it only means trouble for him, but before he could think of what or why, she sinks down hard and in one fluid motion sheaths herself fully in him.
The breath punches out Bradley. His eyes roll to the back of his head and his back arches off the bed.
Nat pushes him back down. "Do I have your attention now, Rooster?"
Bradley tries to catch his breath. “I don’t know what you're talking about. Was I talking about something?"
She grins. "Good answer." She draws back, withdrawing almost completely, then snaps back down again.
"Oh!" Bradley throws his head back, eyes squeezed shut. “Fuck, woman, have some mercy.”
Giggling, she pulls away almost fully again then changes her angle slightly before she snaps back down again and hits his prostate perfectly.
“Jesus," Bradley breathes.
He knows she's going to switch the pacing soon. They've been partners for over a decade now in this job, he knows all her tricks. If she was going to fuck him hard, she’d have had him on all fours, not his back. Still, she repeats the motion again and again until Bradley is nothing but a squirming, mewling thing underneath her.
Sure enough, when he could do nothing more than make incoherent noises as he feels himself edging closer to a climax that would never come unless his dick gets some friction, she eases up on him. She pulls back and waits while he tries to catch his breath.
Bradley pants as he tries to center himself again and opens his eyes. Or tries to, anyway. He has to blink hard a few times before he can see Nat's face and not just a blob.
The beautiful devil is smiling down at him, looking angelic and innocent and not like someone who loves to torture Bradley.
“You good?” She asks, her lips brushing his.
Bradley inches up to kiss her and tangle his tongue with hers. “Yeah.”
"Good," she says, and reaches down to link their hands together then lifts them so their linked hands are above his head.
She captures his lips again and runs her tongue along his bottom lip. Bradley opens for her easily and she slides her tongue in his mouth.
Slowly, she starts moving again. She sets a slow, languid pace this time, matching the pace of their kiss. The angle she fucks him in allows for the best angle for kissing but it is no longer ideal for the deepest, hardest thrusts, and she can't hit his prostate anymore. It's not urgent anymore. But it's sweet and it's them and Bradley doesn't mind as he and Nat trade slow kisses — deep kisses interspersed with short, sweet ones — to the rhythm of her thrusts.
"I thought Cyclone said you're not allowed to fuck me like this anymore," Bradley says, voice low and grinning, as she peppers his face with sweet, gentle kisses. Cyclone had said it looked too domestic, too easy and too real-life, so they should knock it off unless they wanted their viewers to expect a wedding soon.
Nat giggles and moves to place those same short kisses against his lips.
"He's not the boss of me," she whispers.
Bradley gives a small giggle of his own. "He literally is though."
"Hmm," she hums, "it wasn't forbidden. Just strongly suggested. And I love fucking you like this too much to give it up," she gives a quick snap of her hip for emphasis.
"I love you fucking me like this," Bradley returns.
She grins and claims his mouth for another deep kiss, which he eagerly returns. He does love this with Nat: The slow pace of it that's almost like love-making, kissing his favourite person in the whole world the entire time, neither of them in a hurry to be anywhere and the cameras and viewers be damned. Thankfully, the viewers seemed to love these too, because otherwise, Cyclone for sure would have forbidden these scenes.
So they keep going like that, giggling and kissing and fucking, without a care in the world, until finally Bradley pulls away to ask softly, “You gonna let me come soon?”
He's not particularly bothered about it. He's asking out of curiosity, not urgency. Not yet, anyway .
She gives him a teasing, thoughtful look. “I’m thinking about it. What’s in it for me?”
Oh, he thinks, it's one of those . “I’ll go down on you.”
“You were gonna do that anyway," she says, "you love my pussy.”
'I do," he agrees absent-mindedly as he thinks about it. “I’ll go down on you all night?"
"That's better," she encourages, still thrusting shallowly into him.
"I'll…" he goes through his options. "I'll go down on you every night for a week."
She pauses.
He grins. He's got tone, baby. “Think about it," he wheedles. "Every night I’ll come by your place, and we go back to your bed and I give you orgasm after orgasm. What's better to fall asleep to than an orgasm you don't have to reciprocate?"
She picks up her shallow movements again. "That's a good point."
"It's an excellent point," Bradley says, "come on, you love my mouth."
"I do. It's true." She thinks about it some more. "Every night for a week, for both me and Callie."
Bradley pauses then rolls his eyes. "Fine, fine, I'll go down on your wife too. But she's not allowed to scratch me again. Charlie yells when we show up with things she has to cover before the shoot."
He doesn't mind. Callie is his second favourite person in the world, after all.
Nat leans down and kisses him again. "I'll tell her to cut her nails. Do we have a deal?"
"Deal," he says.
Her hand finds his dick quickly after that and she fucks into him harder and faster, and Bradley is back to being a puddle underneath her again.
"Fuck I love your hands," Bradley says as the climax builds inside him. "Fuck, I fucking love your hands."
"What about my cock?" Nat asks, giving him a particularly hard thrust. "You love that too?"
Oh, right. Porn. They're doing porn.
"Fucking love it," Bradley says, throwing in a freebie moan for extra measure. "love your big cock."
"Yeah?" She picks up the pace again, practically jackhammering into him. "Tell me how much you love it."
Bradley complies, describing every lewd thing her to do to him and promising that he loves being fucked with her strap-on more than any real cock that's ever been inside him, going on until the building pressure just has him saying nonsensical words.
"Fuck, fuck, fuck, fuck, fuck."
"Go on," Nat says, "come."
A coil snaps inside him and he arches off the bed with a groan, condom filling rapidly with his come.
" Fuuuuuck, " he groans as he settles back down.
Nat laughs. "Don't fall sleep. It'll be my turn soon."
****
Later, when they've both showered and changed, and they're packing up to go home for the night, Nat says: "You know, I'm not saying it should be Hangman, but it might be good for you to try properly subbing for once."
Bradley looks up from the watch he's trying to fasten around his wrist. "What?"
“It might not be bad to sub," she says again, as she folds her jacket into her duffle bag. "Might help you sort some stuff out."
"What stuff? I don't have stuff."
She sighs and straightens up. "You, my friend, have a lot of stuff. But you in particular have a problem with authority and also vulnerability. Especially vulnerability.”
“You boss me around all the time!”
“That’s different. It’s a game to you when it's just someone you consider a friend being a little bossy with you. When was the last time you subbed for anyone? When was the last time you paired with someone who would properly boss you around or leave you vulnerable?”
He doesn't have an answer.
He tops more than he bottoms; he pushes more than he gets pushed. He's always been on equal footing with his partners, and when he does let someone boss him around, he never cedes more ground than he himself wants to.
"What's your point?"
She shrugs and shoulders her bag. "Nothing. Just that it might be good for you to explore the whole anti-vulnerability thing in a safe space." She turns towards the door. "Anyway. See you tomorrow night for Day One!"
The door swings shut behind her but Bradley stands staring at her vacated spot long after the echo of her steps fade away.