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Tom had acted alongside hundreds of different types of actors during his career. He didn’t usually get affected by the actor opposite him, although a good performance has always excited him. Tom was excited when he found out Brad would be cast as Louis, feeling as if he could trust his partner in this film.
They got along fine in the beginning. Brad was a chill guy, kept more to himself as Tom would stay in character between takes, trying to stay in Lestat’s headspace. But they worked well with each other.
Things were different filming in London. Brad was gloomy. Sulking not only in between takes, but during! Luckily, that was very in character, but there was no passion in Brad’s performance anymore. Tom couldn’t sit back and watch him wreck this movie any longer. He already had to deal with proving Anne Rice wrong about his job as Lestat, and he wouldn’t let anything ruin that.
After another night shoot, Tom invited Brad to his hotel room. Except it wasn’t an invitation, but a demand to meet him, elongating their time in the dark even more. Brad only shrugged, following Tom, whose actions only reflected a man on a mission.
Brad sat on Tom’s bed like he had been there thousands of times before. Numbness was written all over his face. Brad’s arms were behind him, holding himself up with his legs crossed in front of him. Tom gave him a once-over, hands on his hips as he used his height level to his advantage.
“How are we gonna fix this?” Tom asked, seriously.
Brad’s face didn’t change, other than a slight furrow of his eyebrows. “Fix what, Tom?”
Tom waved his hand over his unmoving co-star. “This apathy.” Tom drags out the word dramatically. “I get that you’re having a rough time with all these night shoots, but it’s for the art!” Brad only sat solemnly. “What, nothing to say?”
Brad looked him in the eyes when he spoke. “I feel like I’m stuck. Stuck in these cold, dreary nights, and I’m quickly starting to lose my will to continue.”
Tom wanted to feel bad for Brad. But to him, being able to act in big roles all over the world was a privilege. Even when the darkness got to him, he reminded himself that this is how Lestat would be living his life, and it aided in the way he played the character. He brushed a hand through his hair in frustration.
Without thinking much of it, Tom quoted the script. “I swear, you grow more like Louis every day. Soon you’ll be eating rats!”
Brad laughed for the first time that night. It caught Tom off guard, tilting his head to the side. “You shouldn’t be complaining then. It’s method acting.”
Tom took a step closer to Brad. “I’m trying to figure out how I can fix you.”
Brad’s tongue played over his bottom tip. Tom studied the movement. His eyes lingered over Brad’s melancholic face. He physically fit the casting beautifully. Tom prowled closer, now stood with Brad’s legs crossed underneath him. Tom’s look was calculated while Brad looked like his prey.
Brad let out a nervous huff. “Maybe you’re growing to be a little too much like Lestat.”
“Only taking the good qualities.” Tom brought his hand to Brad’s jawline, not as a caress but as a test. His voice lowered. “If you just harnessed your pain into passion for your role a little more, God, you would be perfect.”
Brad’s voice was rough when he responded. “I’m just having a rough time finding the motivation. Especially when I feel like I’m drowning under your performance." Brad sounded vulnerable and definitely embarrassed, yet he couldn’t tear his eyes away from Tom.
Tom’s eyes softened slightly, and his fingers pressed against the back of Brad’s neck. “You’re sinking in the darkness. When I’m acting across from you, you motivate me to go harder. Lestat’s not Lestat without Louis.” Tom thought carefully before his next words. “Maybe if the script leaned more into the books, you might have more to look forward to.”
Brad’s breath hitched. The topic was unspoken, but Tom could tell that they both understood what Tom was implying. “Tom, I think you’re letting everything get to your head.” But Brad's breathing was heavy, and he almost leaned into the touch of Tom’s hand framing the side of his face.
“Can’t help out a friend?” Tom asked in feigning obliviousness. “I refuse to have you falling apart on me.” He traced his thumb over his co-star’s bottom lip so lightly it could’ve been denied. “Or on the film, y’know.”
Brad’s shaky breath was almost disguised in his laugh. “Feels like you’re enjoying this more than you should be.”
Tom shrugged, close enough so that Brad could feel the heat radiating off of him. “Maybe.” Tom replied with a certain purr in his voice. “You might’ve been right about Lestat rubbing off on me.”
Brad answered him softly, with an intentionally unmistakable loaded phrase. “Or on me.”
The air changed as Tom completely stilled, not in fear but in anticipation. The doorway to whatever this was opened for Tom. Sure, he was the one who started this, but he hadn’t expected it to go this far.
Tom’s hand gripped Brad’s face harder than he had before. He moved his face where there was only a breath of space between his mouth and Brad’s. Brad’s eyes that lingered on Tom’s lips lifted back to his eyes. He murmured the next part quietly. “What, you’re gonna back out now?”
Maybe it was Tom’s ego that never let him stray from a challenge, or maybe it was the plump lips on the other man’s face that he couldn’t deny himself the pleasure of tasting. His lips surged to meet Brad’s, moving almost as if they had practiced this same dance before. Tom bit Brad’s bottom lip, eliciting a low growl from the other man. Tom smiled against his co-star’s mouth, enjoying that it was he who provoked that emotion from him.
Soon after, it was Tom’s turn to be caught off guard as Brad’s hands grasped Tom’s ass, pulling him on top of Brad as he lay back. Tom didn’t miss a beat, letting his tongue dip into Brad’s mouth. Brad, near the edge of the bed, scooted further back with Tom over him, and Tom almost commented that he was impressed. Brad ground his hips up to meet Tom’s, who he still had a strong hold on.
Tom moaned as he sat up, allowing Brad to press kisses to his neck. Brad’s teeth scraped at his neck, earning a huff from Tom. “Fuck, yeah, that’s it. Gotta have some of this when we film.”
Brad pulled his face away from Tom’s neck, laughing as he rolled his eyes. Tom took the opportunity to pull the Henley over Brad’s head. “I’ll make sure to get hard during the next take.” Brad joked, taking off Tom’s shirt. His lips immediately found their way to one of Tom’s nipples, circling it lightly with his tongue.
“If that’s what it takes, yeah.” Tom was completely serious, too.
Tom guided Brad’s face back to his own, missing the aggressive nature of their mouths meeting. His hands worked steadily below them to free Brad’s cock from his sweatpants. Brad’s hands gripped Tom’s thighs as his thumb swirled the precome over his tip. Tom wasn't going to last long after looking at Brad’s veiny cock throbbing in his fist. He then freed himself from the constraints of his pants, rutting against Brad. At that point, it was less kissing and more panting into each other’s mouths. The mix of hands, thrusting, come, and spit between them was becoming too much.
“Fuck Tom.” Brad said as his hand quickened over Tom’s cock. Tom came first, hips riding out his orgasm over Brad’s lap.
Tom gave Brad a peck that’s softer than he would’ve given him before. Tom panted, but as Brad’s hand slowed down, his hand quickened. He began pressing kisses to Brad’s neck just before he felt and heard the other man come. Brad’s chest moved steadily, almost like a weight had been taken off his shoulders.
After a minute of Tom just straddling Brad, face pressed against his neck, he pulled his head back to look at the other man. “You think my fix worked?”
A smirk played on Brad's lips. “For now, yeah. After a while, I might need a refresher.”
Tom pretended to think about it. “You show up on camera, and I’ll show up here.”
“Deal.”