How it starts is, they're playing a game of Embarrassing Set Fuck-Ups one-upmanship. They're in Sebastian's hotel room, and it's late, it's so late, and they should be going to bed, trying to get some sleep before the press starts up again the next day, but instead they wind up slumped opposite each other, fighting off yawns and dissolving into overtired giggles.
"It took me like fifteen attempts to stick that landing from the window," Sebastian laughs, "fuck, I fell so many times, my knees were bruised for weeks."
"You know you're always making fun of how I can't see anything out of my goggles?" Anthony counters, "yeah, I can't, it's fucking ridiculous, I walked into a wall the first time I put them on in costume." Sebastian laughs harder, flings his head back, wipes tears from his eyes.
"I couldn't get out of the arm the first time I tried it on," he admits, "Jesus Christ, why do you think they use so much lube in there now, I was stuck in it for like an hour, I thought they were gonna have to cut me out of it and all I could think was fuck, this is probably, like, a thousand dollars worth of costuming."
"Oh, god, back when we were doing Winter Soldier I tripped over my own feet shooting that jogging scene, Chris gave me so much shit, I can't believe there's no video, I thought for sure it'd have been leaked by now."
"There is," Sebastian says, "I paid him off to keep it, I'm saving it for some day in the future when I really want to fuck with you," and Anthony rolls his eyes, leans over to grab another bottle of mineral water. "Anyway, if we're talking Winter Soldier, I've got a story," Seb continues, "boy have I. Okay. Okay so. You know that scene with Robert Redford and I?"
Anthony nods. Of course he knows that scene. Everyone in the damn world probably knows that scene, and Sebastian's mouth, and how he manages to put like a hundred different emotions in his eyes and the twist of his jaw.
"So, the first time Redford and I did that scene, the first time we were shooting, I mean, I got hard when he slapped me." Anthony chokes on his drink, has to gasp for breath.
"You- fuck, man, you can't just- how-"
Sebastian shifts slightly where he's lounging in the armchair, long legs splayed, and tucks his hair back behind one ear, laughs like he's suddenly self-conscious. "It wasn't on purpose," he protests, "it was just- I mean, come on, you've never...?"
"No, man," Anthony says, "no, but- how'd it not happen in rehearsal, anyway, if it was gonna happen at all?"
"Rehearsal we were only blocking it out," Seb says like it's simple, "they didn't want him hitting me for real in case it bruised, or marked, or whatever, and then the cameras were rolling and he did it properly, and his palm cracked me right in the cheek, and I just..." He makes a little hand gesture like a spring bouncing upwards, and Anthony cracks up, but he's suddenly got a lot of questions.
"Shit, dude, did anybody notice?"
"Are you kidding me? You've seen how tight my pants were, of course people noticed, I'm pretty sure Grillo still thinks about it every time he sees me given the look on his fucking face. But it's Redford, you know, and Jesus, it was so good for me, I just..." He blushes, just a little, and shifts again, runs his hand through his hair, sucks his lower lip into his mouth.
"You win," Anthony concedes, "fuck, you win, I'm never gonna top that," and then they're both silent, and Anthony takes another sip of his water, and all of a sudden he can't stop thinking about it. He can't even blame it on being drunk; they've had a single beer and then nothing but herbal tea and mineral water, both of them still on strict instruction from their trainers, and it's total bullshit but the point is Anthony's stone cold sober and still thinking about hitting Sebastian in the face, and extremely, uncomfortably aware that thinking about it is making his own pants more than a little tight.
"...You wanna..." he says, after another minute of contemplation on the topic of Sebastian Likes His Face Slapped, My God, because it's late and the press junket is interminable and if they can't drink then they might as well fuck themselves up any other possible way, and Sebastian's face fucking lights up.
"Shit yes," he says, eager like maybe he's been wanting for a while, and then he's out of his chair and on his knees in front of Anthony before he can hardly even blink.
"Okay," Anthony says, takes a deep breath like that'll calm himself down, because this whole situation has really gone from zero to a hundred in a short space of time. "Okay. Yeah. Let's do this." He sits forward, puts the water bottle down, lets his thighs fall apart, and Sebastian crawls in between them holy fuck like he knows exactly what he's doing, sits back on his heels, rests his hands on his thighs.
"You can-" Seb says, voice rough, and stops, clears his throat. "You can, uh, you can touch my hair if you want. I mean, you can hold me by the hair, that's, that's good."
"Yeah?" Anthony asks, smirks a little, and then slides his fingers through Sebastian's hair, not holding at first, just touching, getting it loose and messy and out of place. His hair's still long, shorter than it was while they were filming but long enough that it falls into Sebastian's face if he doesn't keep pushing it back, and Anthony's gonna admit, now: it's been driving him nuts, watching Sebastian smooth it back fifteen hundred times a day. It's soft and thick, a little sticky from the product Seb uses, and he combs his fingers through it, slow and sensuous. Sebastian tilts his head into it, and Anthony runs his fingers through again, rougher this time, starting at his hairline and scraping down with his nails to the nape of Seb's neck, and then he takes a fistful of hair and holds, just enough to watch Sebastian go loose and compliant. It's a good look, it's a good fucking look, Jesus Christ, and Anthony tightens his grip, pulls harder.
"Yes," Seb chokes out, "oh, fuck, yes," and Anthony hasn't even hit him yet. The thought suddenly burns dark, that he's gonna slap Sebastian in the face and Sebastian is going to like it, and he pulls Seb to an angle where he's all cheekbones and jawline, lifts his other hand to his face, presses his palm gentle against Seb's cheek.
"Yeah?" he asks, and Sebastian sucks his lip into his mouth again, looks up at Anthony. His eyes are wide, long lashed, slate-blue eaten up by pupils blown huge and dark. He looks wrecked.
"Please," he whispers, and Anthony pulls his hand away, smacks him full in the face.
It's loud in the quiet of the hotel room, and Sebastian's moan is louder, and Anthony suddenly understands, fuck does he understand. He strokes Sebastian's cheek where his palm has left a mark, the skin red.
"Yeah," Sebastian agrees, and Anthony hits him again, harder, yanks his hair. "Oh fuck," Sebastian breathes, "fuck, that-" and goes quiet, tilts his face up for another hit.
"Look at you," Anthony says, and he means it teasingly but it comes out tender and reverent even as he slaps Sebastian again. He transfers his grip on Seb's hair to his other hand, slaps his left cheek and then backhands him across the mouth, and Seb honest to god whimpers, this soft gasping noise in the back of his throat that goes straight to Anthony's dick. "God," Anthony says again, "look at you, fuck, you love it," and the next slap has Seb moaning. His mouth is red and wet, bitten-swollen, and Anthony touches his thumb to Sebastian's lower lip, pushes just hard enough to hear another moan.
"I want-" Sebastian tells him, "fuck, I want- please-" and Anthony's not sure exactly what it is he wants but he slides his thumb slick along Seb's mouth, grabs him by the chin and holds him in place, fingers hard on his jaw and tight in his hair.
"Can't leave bruises," he says, and presses his fingers into Seb's jawline a little harder anyway, "we've got press tomorrow, I can't mark you up, I can't hit you until I split that pretty mouth and make you bleed," and Seb gets this look on his face like he's so turned on he might come in his jeans any minute. "Oh," Anthony continues, "oh, see, that's interesting, you're fucked up, Sebastian, you love it," and when he touches two fingers to Seb's mouth again, Sebastian sucks them in immediately, takes them straight up to the knuckle without pausing. "Oh fucking Christ," Anthony swears, has to bite his own lip and think hard about, like, football scores for a couple of seconds. "That's what you want?" he asks, pulls Sebastian's head back so he can see his face, and Sebastian's jaw is slack, his eyes heavy and drowsy with lust.
"Please," he says again, and Anthony slaps him again just for the thrill of it, fingers leaving wet streaks across his cheek, before nodding.
"Yeah," he says, "okay, yeah," and the words are barely out of his mouth when Sebastian is fumbling with his belt, unzipping his fly and pulling his dick out of his pants. His mouth is hot and wet and tight and he's got Anthony all the way in the back of his throat pretty much immediately, and Anthony's done this before but never with his grip tight in someone's hair and them begging for it like this. He thrusts up into it, listens to the noises Seb's making - moaning like he's getting off just from sucking Anthony's dick, it's fucking obscene, and Anthony wants to hear it for maybe the rest of his life - and when it's getting too good he yanks Seb roughly back by the hair. It's messy and slick and there's a line of saliva from Seb's mouth to Anthony's dick and he looks down at him, grabs his dick, begins to stroke it.
"Undo your pants," he tells Seb, and his own voice is tight like he's holding back, because he is, he's about thirty seconds away from shooting his load all over Seb's unfairly pretty face, "get your dick out, I want you to touch yourself while you do this," and Seb makes a noise like a sob but does it, breathing hard and biting at his lip like he's gonna break the skin and make it bleed after all if he's not careful.
"Please can I-" he asks, voice rough, and Anthony nods, lets Seb lick his way up underneath the head and then suck him down until his cheeks are hollowing with the effort.
"God," he says, "fuck, Sebastian, your mouth," and knows he's about to come; he taps Seb's chin in warning but that just has Seb sucking harder, and when he comes it's straight down Seb's throat, for what feels like a million years. "Shit," he breathes when he's got back the power of speech, "shit, that was-" and he's still got a grip on Sebastian's hair. When he pulls him off his dick this time, there's a smear of come on the corner of Seb's mouth, and he licks it away, and Anthony has to close his eyes for a second.
"God, you're good," he tells Sebastian, and means every word of it, cups his cheek tenderly, "you're so good, that was, you did so good for me," and Sebastian shudders and comes into his own hand and all over the hotel carpet, still on his knees, his face slapped red and tear-streaked and fucking gorgeous.
There are marks the next day.
"Got up in the night to pee and walked into my bathroom door," Sebastian lies very easily, touches his fingers to the bruise on his cheekbone ruefully like oh boy, it's such a funny story, what a joke, and Anthony grins at their interviewers.
"So you may not know this about us, we come across as consummate professionals, but we're ridiculously accident-prone," he tells them, "you wouldn't believe the amount of embarrassing shit we fuck up on set."
"Yeah," Sebastian agrees, "yeah, I've got, uh, there's a hilarious video, actually, I've got it right here," and Anthony would let Sebastian leak every one of his ignominious pratfalls, even the one with the bird robot hitting him in the face, if it means he gets this, Sebastian on his knees and moaning for him, again, and also maybe forever.