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The memory is a selective thing, if nothing else. Hayden has forgotten a lot of things, things he thought he’d keep in his mind forever and a day. Hayden can’t remember the first time he sat on a horse and how scared he was. He has forgotten most about Family Passions and watching reruns sometimes makes him wonder if he starred in the show at all. Other things Hayden can’t remember include his first swimming lessons and the fear of drowning, the taste of the first kiss he ever got from a girl and the first time he got really drunk. Which, of course, is a thing most people don’t remember, but it’s a lost memory for Hayden anyway.

There are, however, many things Hayden will never forget. Some of them he wants to erase from his mind, like the pain he felt during the Eco challenge (not that that wasn’t a great memory in general – he just wants to get rid of the phantom muscle pain he sometimes feels when he thinks too hard about it), or the embarrassment when his mother teased him about the wet spot in his pyjamas. He also wishes to forget the moment Natalie tried to hit on him all these years ago, making him blush and acting all awkward while trying to tell her thanks, but no thanks without hurting her feelings. He still thinks that he failed in that respect, although Natalie never told him so. And all the moments he stumbled, slipped or ran against something or somebody during the Clones shoot – Hayden could definitely do without the lingering mental proof of his clumsiness.

Finally, there are memories Hayden tries to hold onto by replaying them in his mind as often as possible. The fun he had during filming Life as a House, for example; the smell of gasoline and manliness when he went biking with Ewan for the first time. The both awkward and arousing moment of realising that he’s not getting a blowjob but somebody is licking him down there.

But as good and wonderful as all these memories are, there is one Hayden would trade in for all the others. Hayden has forgotten the circumstances that led up to this moment – he never remembers why he went back that night, he thinks he had to get something from set, but he’s not sure anymore. All he remembers is the important part. It is this.




The corridor was dark, which was what Hayden had expected, since nobody was supposed to be there. Or so he had thought. There was no real reason for him not to switch the light on – his eyes hadn’t adjusted to the darkness yet and, prone to run against things as he was, it would have been wise for Hayden to lighten up his surroundings. However, there was something holding him back – a noise, a smell, a feeling? Hayden didn’t know what made him slowly walk down the dark corridor, but once he managed to reach the corner leading to the prop rooms, he saw a tiny ray of light shining from underneath one of the doors and thought that his decision had been the right one after all.

He sneaked up to the door that was slightly ajar, careful to avoid any noise. Maybe it was somebody who had to work late because they had fucked up something earlier today and then had to face the wrath of George Lucas for doing so. Hayden had no intention of running into somebody who had to do a non-voluntary late night shift because maybe it had been his lightsaber that had broken yet again. Hayden also thought about a burglar at work, somebody trying to steal props to sell them on eBay or at some fan convention. With Star Wars, anything was possible, and Hayden knew he should just turn, get the fuck out and well, forget about it all.

But Hayden did neither of these things because curiosity got the upper hand. He stepped even closer to the door and opened it a bit more, very carefully and just enough for him to peek through.

The light was very dim and at first, Hayden couldn’t make out much at all. Rather than trying to see anything, he listened. Hard, ragged breathing. A stifled moan. Then, as his eyes adjusted, he slowly made out the figure sitting in the darkened room; saw the face almost glowing softly, lit by the little lamp on the desk. Hayden lowered his gaze, attracted by some movement he noticed.

It was Ewan, sitting in the chair, which was turned halfway towards the door. It was Ewan, eyes closed, shirt riding up his belly and pants opened wide; Ewan, completely unaware of Hayden watching him from a rather short distance. It was Ewan, lost in his own arousal, never noticing he wasn’t alone, one of his hands thrown across the back of the chair while the other was busy pleasuring himself with rapid, almost erratic movements.

Hayden thought about a million reasons to leave right then and there. This was nothing he was supposed to witness. Ewan was sitting there in the middle of the night, enjoying a good wanking session, and it wasn’t Hayden’s business to question or disturb it. Hayden should’ve left as quietly as he had come. He should’ve left and gone back home to imitate Ewan’s action, jerking off to that image. He planned on doing so any moment. He just couldn’t help himself. He had to watch, just one more minute, just two or three more strokes, just…

His gaze shifted between Ewan’s crotch (his eyes had adjusted enough by then and he caught every tug and squeeze, he needed to memorise them all to replay them exactly like this later, it would be as if Ewan was jerking him, then) and Ewan’s face, eyes still closed, brow furrowed in a little frown, lips pressed tightly against each other.

Hayden was mesmerised. He was amazed. But most of all, he was horny. He moved a bit, extremely careful, just so that he could press his hard-on against the doorframe. He wasn’t trying to hump the frame, not really – he wanted to save his erection for later on. He just needed some friction, because Ewan was breathing so hard through his nose that Hayden could almost feel it on his skin, distance be fucked.

The breathing, in fact, was getting more and more ragged and just when Hayden thought he would leave now, really, any second, he just needed to watch one more stroke because this was so good, just then Ewan’s lips parted, he moaned and started coming all over his hand and lower stomach. Hayden’s own jaw dropped open and he didn’t even notice his subconscious guiding his hand towards his crotch because the doorframe wasn’t enough anymore; he needed more pressure to work with the image of Ewan still coming in quick spurts. The image of Ewan… opening his eyes.

Hayden stopped breathing because Ewan didn’t need a moment to relax or calm down, as Hayden would have. No, Ewan’s eyes opened and were staring at him.

“Come over here,” was all Ewan said, voice low and raunchy and unquestionable.

And as Hayden moved, his legs went on auto pilot. He crossed the small distance in silence, never thinking about what he did and why. He just went. He had to.

He stopped right in front of Ewan, looking at him from above. Saw that Ewan was still stroking himself, milking his cock for the very last few drops of come that lazily rolled out of the slit and gathered at the head. Hayden couldn’t bear it any longer. Shifting his gaze from Ewan’s crotch to his face and seeing that look, now, what’re you gonna do? he knew he was lost anyway.

He dropped to his knees and let his senses adjust to what was before him step by step. The smell of sweat and come and sex, a smell Hayden could never get enough of anyway, but knowing it came from Ewan this time made it so much better. The view of the spent cock, about to rest in a nest of pubes marked with drops of sperm. The feeling of dipping his finger into a little pool of come just underneath the navel, of rubbing it between index and thumb, and of licking it off before it got too stale.

And then, the taste. The bitter, salty, so wrong yet so right taste, the taste of him. Hayden bowed down and made use of his tongue, did everything he had dreamed of doing for months, years maybe. He licked Ewan clean, eager and needy, and when he sucked on the head of Ewan’s now oversensitive cock to make sure he got it all, Ewan hissed sharply but never stopped him. It was only when Hayden was done that Ewan grabbed him by his hair, pulled his head and kissed him, hard and probing, searching with his tongue for any evidence of himself on Hayden’s tongue. Once Ewan found it, he moaned into Hayden’s mouth while still kissing him, and Hayden came. He came like a twelve year old, so fast and so sudden he almost fell if it wasn’t for Ewan somehow holding him.

Ewan withdrew from the kiss and run a thumb across Hayden’s lips, as if wiping away some imaginary drops of come.

“That was good,” he eventually whispered, “good boy.”

And Hayden beamed, because any praise was better than being mocked because he’d just creamed his pants.

“Thank you,” he replied and, feeling a rush of boldness, added: “You know, maybe next time I could step in earlier?”

Ewan’s eyebrow went up, his face lit up in amusement.

“Oh yeah? That’s what you think?”

“Yeah, to… you know.” Hayden hesitated, the rush of his orgasm slowly wearing off. But Ewan still waited, so he decided just to go for it. He leaned in close to avoid Ewan’s stare, lowered his voice, and said: “Well. It’s just that… I want to be the one who makes you come.”

Ewan smirked. “Oh, but you already are.”



Hayden closes his eyes and sighs, he knows he will never forget that special encounter, the first of many to come. It’s his way of opening a box full of treasured memories, of more licking and tasting and kissing, of sucking, thrusting and pounding, of fucking and loving, of giving up and giving in. Hayden will never forget a single time with Ewan, no matter what. But as good and wonderful as these old memories are, Hayden works hard on adding fresh ones to them whenever possible. And Ewan never declines, because Hayden still makes him come. And tries to lick him clean of any come - be it Ewan’s or Hayden’s own - every single time. And Ewan still moans into his mouth afterwards.