slashyalanfan (slashyalanfan) wrote in johnnyfanfic,
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New here - and with gifts!

Hiya folks! I'm new here and wanted to bring a little late Christmas prezzie! I wrote this fic just a few weeks ago and wanted to share it with folks who might appreciate it. I'm mostly an Alan Rickman fan first, but I also LOVE LOVE LOVE Johnny Depp. He's so beautiful, and slashable...

Now after Sweeney Todd, this is my new favorite ship! =D
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Johnny Come Lately
rating - R
summary - Alan wanted to get to know Johnny better. No time like the present...
Disclaimer: This work is pure fiction. Any resemblance to real life is purely coincidental. Also, I do NOT own Alan Rickman or Johnny Depp. damn. This is mostly smut. Pretty blatant stuff. An excuse to imagine these two tangled up and... well... yeah...



Johnny Come Lately

The scene outside the modest bar is almost unfathomable. The two men stumble against one another, tipsy, feigning seriousness but making it all look like performance art, like a caricature.

In this moment, neither of the actors seem like themselves, so it's not strange that they aren't approached by paparazzo or pestered for autographs. Anyway, this crowd mostly consists of other stars or industry insiders, so they aren't bothered.

The elder of the two is tall and pale, and his fading blond mop of hair only adds to that. In recent years, it has gone two shades lighter than usual, making him seem washed out a bit - but not quite white. It still resembles an odd blondish color one might find on Scandinavians or tow-headed toddlers. He's shoving money into the top pocket of his sweater, a thick lilac woolen contraption that almost resembles something a woman might wear, but he can pull it off. He's graceful in a way that only a man can be. He gestures with long fingers, his long legs taking careful strides so that he doesn't fall into his companion.

The other man is lean and strange and painted an ethnic olive color with a hint of Native American undertones. He wears a strange grin beneath wiry black facial hair and he's got some colorful beanie over his ragged black hair. If you didn't know him, if you'd never heard of him or seen him on magazine covers or sauntering down red velvet carpets, beneath flashing lights and wearing silk Vera Wang suits, you'd think he was a bum.

He certainly looks the part, in torn faded jeans, a dingy long sleeve t-shirt with cigarette burns and nicotine fingertips.

"Fuck." the younger of the two murmurs. "Fuck me, I lost my key."

"I have it." the older one says, producing it between thick fingers. "Here." he speaks in a British accent, but it's so subtle coming from lips that barely part or even move when he speaks.

He's suave in a shy way, sort of slouching when he walks, even in his drunken state. He's been drunk before, but this, tonight seemed deliberate.

"What would I do without you?" the younger one takes the key and with nearly black eyes turns them on the other man. "Alan, you're a lifesaver."

Alan Rickman doesn't respond so much as nods his head, a way to ward away the ache to his temples. He's not your traditional celebrity. He's not into the glitz and the glamour and he certainly doesn't enjoy to have a fuss made over him. He'd much rather spend his time in the real world where people still make their own toast and do their own shopping. He doesn't take the time to get into trends or visit the internet or get involved in these media frenzies. Publicity stunts were invented for the hopeless and he's never been that desperate.

The two men get to the SUV that belongs to the younger man and they sit inside for several seconds, in silence, until the younger starts to chuckle, a dreamy light sound. He's so into his own world right now and so out of it, that he can't help himself and Alan smirks in his direction.

"I can't let you drive." is all he says.

"Yeah. I know." the younger man whose name is Johnny makes an amused face, showing his teeth. "But you gave me the key."

"I gave you my key. I still have your key." he rests his head back against the seat. "I don't want to die tonight."

Johnny smirks. "I drive drunk all the time. I've perfected it. It's a talent of mine. One of several..."

"You're preaching to the choir." Alan's yawn is long and exhausted. "Use your phone and call a taxi."

The younger man turns to look at the older one, but he's not even going to try to challenge him. It was never his intent to drive, but he did have something on his mind.

"I like your musk." Depp says in a goofy voice. "Forgive me. I'm such a character actor, I don't know how to do anything else."

"But, I am assuming you know yourself..."

"I don't know what I know." he says it so softly and in such a melancholy voice that Alan turns to him. "Want a hit off a joint?"

"I don't smoke that." Alan's lids slide down over hazel eyes. "Not anymore anyway."

"What do you do?" his voice turns conversational suddenly. "Seriously, I've worked with you for over six months and I don't know shit about you except that you're some kind of dodgy Welshman."

Rickman laughs out loud at that remark. "And I like dogs."

"Big deal. Who doesn't like dogs?"

"And I like you." he turns his face away, hating the liquor for bringing out the truth - but also hating himself. He and this man are worlds away as far as leagues go, popularity, age, etc. Rickman doesn't run with these kinds of people - never have, but still, the man is charming and beautiful and he possesses an almost feminine quality that makes him forget...

"Big deal. I like you too. So what." Depp is so used to the sexually atypical that this tiny little blurb doesn't phase him one iota.

"Perhaps you should make that phone call." Alan is sobering up and wishing he had another snifter of bourbon - or anything.

Johnny snorts an ironic laugh. "Why? You've never had sex in an SUV before?"

Alan is caught off guard with that remark and unsure how to reply. "Er... I... no. Not an SUV per se... but..."

Johnny nods. "A smaller car, most likely. Probably a Mercedes or a Volkswagen? But you're so big..."

"Hand me the phone." He lets his hand hang in the air, hoping the cell phone will simply materialize there in his palm. It's not that he's nervous; it's just that he doesn't know what all this is leading to and he's not prepared, emotionally or otherwise. Johnny Depp is an incredibly mysterious, sexy, beautiful man - and he isn't sure he's ready to cross the line from simply fantasizing about someone to actually doing something about it. Not tonight anyhow...

"What if I told you, I wasn't acting at all during Pirates... what would you say to that?"

Alan swallows, a flush rising to his cheeks. "I didn't actually watch those. Sorry."

"Well, you're the only person on the planet who hasn't seen it - and I find that oddly refreshing." the younger man pushes a hand through his dark hair and Alan watches the rings on almost all of his fingers glinting in the dim streetlight. There's another silence as they simply breathe in and out, Johnny's eyes shut against his drunkenness, and Rickman staring forward into the darkness of tinted windows and a fastly emptying parking lot.

"There's so much I wanted to say to you, which is why I agreed to come out with you tonight." Alan's words are flowing slowly from his lips, from his soul. This is stupid, but vulnerability brings about honesty in him.

"Wait." Johnny opens his eyes and licks his lips. "Don't say anything else. I need to see you - and I can't see you right now - in the dark."

Rickman is puzzled. "I don't... understand..."

"Are you sober enough to drive?"

The older man shakes his head. "No. I don't know. Maybe." He's relenting and soon he finds himself getting out and going around to the driver's side, fishing around in his pocket for the key and starting it up. He's not terribly good at driving on the right side of the street - especially when under the influence, but he thinks he can make it a few blocks to the hotel. If he tries very hard and doesn't do anything stupid. They pull in front of the Wiltshire, and Rickman and Depp get out while the valet does the parking. Johnny pushes up his sleeves with purpose, revealing friendship and leather bracelets knotted onto his wrists, as if he was recently enrolled in girl scouts - or a grunge band. Rickman is in the lead, taking them through the lobby towards the elevator - but Johnny stops him.

"Hold on." he says in his soft contemplative voice. "Just hold on a minute." Alan stops where he is as Johnny comes close to him, face-to-face. His dark eyes are playful, boyish, serious, frightening, sad.
There are so many emotions running through him right now - and none of them are what you'd expect. He looks at the older man suspiciously. "How did we get here?"

"I drove." Alan says quietly. "Don't you remember?"

"Am I staying here?"

Rickman shrugs. "If you'd like. My suite more than accommodates me. I mean, of course you don't have to if..."

"Where's Tim?"

"I think he stayed over at he pub. Or he left. I really don't recall." Alan studies the younger man, trying to remember how old he is. "Are you alright?"

Johnny nods, slowly. "Yeah. I'm great. Lets go upstairs. I just... I needed to make sure..."

Rickman nods. "Of course." Once in the elevator, Johnny taps his fingers against the gold paneling on the walls, his toes curled inside lavender Crocks. He looks at Alan occasionally, beneath his dark hair, sneaking peaks at him. Alan smiles neutrally, letting the sound of instrumental eighties music fill his head. He's never even heard of Hal and Oats, but it sounds nice, nonetheless. The corridor is long and empty and Alan gets out first, but Johnny pulls him back into the elevator and presses the stop button. It only takes a moment to adjust to this new development as he finds himself tugged into a loose embrace and kissed on the mouth, only the way a man could kiss him. Johnny's lips are roughly the same fullness and his mustache brushes his upper lip.

For Sweeney Todd, Alan wore a low beard, but now it is shaved and it feels nice to have the foreignness of friction rubbing against his clean shaven face. His arms come up to encircle the narrow Johnny, to hold him, to get used to the feel of him. Johnny's mouth is opening and he's pressing his entire body against Alan's - and the older man had never even considered elevator sex as an end to this night. He lets one of his large hands drag through the soft dark hair that is Johnny's, fingertips sliding along his scalp, a thumb at his temples. He accepts the tongue into his mouth and lets his own flow forward to meet it. Depp reaches around to rest a hand at the small of his back and Alan hears himself moan softly.

"Here? In the lift?" Rickman murmurs against the other man's cheek.

"Yeah. Right here." Johnny's hands are nimble as they reach into the sweater to unbutton the shirt and rest a warm palm against an even warmer bare chest.

"Was there something you wanted to tell me?" Alan whispers, and the two men are hugged up together now, not kissing, but simply rocking with each other, as if slow dancing. Johnny looks past Alan as if trying to recall.

"Yes. There was something... something about not having any condoms..."

Rickman shudders against the younger man, intrigued and titillated by the words. Even at his age, it doesn't take much to get his juices flowing, and he supposes he's grateful for that. Of course, it doesn't hurt that he has always had a sort of crush on the younger man, if it could be called that. "I may have some... in the room..." his lips are against Johnny's skin and the younger man grins at the contact.

"I want to be honest with you, Alan." he says in his subdued voice. "I have wanted to be naked with you since I met you - and I'm not just saying that so you'll feel obligated."

"I can't imagine you really feeling that way." Alan says dismissively.

"Take me to the room and I'll show you how true it is." Rickman hurriedly fumbles for the open-door button and they tumble out of the elevator and make it to the room at a running walk in maybe ten seconds flat. If it had been a mile away, the time still wouldn't have deviated much. The card key is swiped and the two men are across the threshold in a mere moment, and Johnny, taking the upper hand, is pressing the older man against the closed door, kissing and biting and sucking the soft skin where neck and shoulder meet. Alan's hands are dead weights as they hang in the air, his eyes shut tight as he gasps and moans in alternating intervals. Somehow, the younger man is ravaging him above the shoulders while using one hand to undo his shirt the rest of the way and the other hand to anchor himself to his hip, as if afraid he might slip away. Alan lets this continue for a while, getting lost in the sensation of Johnny's gentle yet insistent caresses. He turns his head to one side and Johnny's mouth is there, latching onto an ear, sucking the lobe between his lips, biting it lightly.

"You're ...very good at this." he whimpers, resting a hand on the other man's shoulder, for leverage. Depp is slipping the shirt and sweater off the man's shoulders, leaving his porcelain torso exposed, his rose pink nipples erect and screaming to be touched, licked, sucked, anything. Instead, Johnny squeezes them both simultaneously, which is just as good at this point. Alan slips down the wall a bit, and Johnny pulls him into an embrace.

"You're so beautiful." he whispers to the older man. "God, I never knew you were this beautiful."

Alan smiles against his shoulder as they walk, towards the plush couch in the sitting room. "If you're still trying to convince me, there's no need..." Johnny smirks as they drop onto the couch, his quirky smile, his dark eyes roaming over Alan's flushed face.

"I want to kiss you more. I want to know your taste by heart." This time, Alan initiates it, his lips on Johnny's, their mouths meshing together, tongues sliding together with wild recklessness now.

Johnny is groaning as he reaches for Alan's hand and places it right above his crotch, and Alan gets the hint and rests his palm there, rubbing at the thick hard bundle.Before long, he needs to feel more and he starts to pull the zipper down it's track, slowly, carefully. Johnny reclines back on the couch, his neck on the arm rest as Alan watches him while opening his fly and releasing his nice thick cock, jutting out dark and hard from it's nest of ink colored hair. Rickman licks his lips while dragging a finger along its length, getting a feel for the satin sheath covering the steel within. Johnny's expression is oblique, his face warm, his eyes lucid.

"May I?" Rickman bends over him, making his intentions clear, and the other man nods, slowly. He hasn't done this in a while, but it isn't an activity one easily forgets. It falls into that 'riding a bicycle' category, and it helps when you're eager about it and hungry for it the way he is now.

He takes the spongy head in first, suckling it gently. His hands are on either sides of Johnny's thighs, since there is no need to hold onto the shaft; it's practically reaching towards his mouth of its own accord. And Johnny is doing his best not to arch his body up towards the greedy mouth at the apex of his thighs right now, but fuck, it's never been this good before. Fuck. The tongue is licking the head, dipping into the little hole, circling it, finding all of its contours and secret hidden places while Johnny is enduring the torture, an arm thrown unceremoniously over his eyes, teeth biting into his lip to keep from screaming. It's only the head now. Imagine when he works his way down to the base, when he starts to cup the balls in his large palm, when he slides a finger into his asshole and starts to move it around a bit. When does a blowjob become ritualistic?

"I want to come..." he whispers. "Fuck, Alan... I want to come... no... not yet... suck me... all of it..."

Alan is taking all of him now, dipping his head lower, getting used to the feel of the heavy piece in his mouth, accommodating it and letting it reach the back of his throat, controlling his gag reflex.

Eventually, he's bobbing his head at a steady pace, rolling the heavy scrotum in his palm and simultaneously fucking his ass with a long finger, and Johnny's body has gone rigid with ecstasy. For several long moments, Alan continues on this way, driving Johnny ever closer to the edge as his body becomes wracked with long, hard spasms.

"I'm gonna come. Alan. I'm coming. Christ!" when he releases himself down Alan's throat, shuddering and shouting, Alan keeps his mouth wrapped around the throbbing cock until the man beneath him is completely spent.

His lips have gone red and swollen as he licks them and smiles, dreamily, and Johnny reaches up to kiss him deeply, sucking the taste of his own cum off the other man's tongue. Alan is beyond stiff as he yanks his pants down his legs and Johnny tugs his jeans the rest of the way down his legs along with boxers. Then his hands toss his t-shirt off and over his head, leaving him completely naked save for his dark socks. Both men are breathing hard as Johnny pulls Alan down to him so their chests are pressed together and Johnny's legs wrap around the older man, giving them even more contact.

Alan's hands are in Johnny's hair and he's caressing him all over, his face, his chest, his shoulders and arms. Johnny is rocking his pelvis forward and back, and he reaches between their bodies to grab hold of Alan's cock. Rickman is almost undone as the skillful hand starts to jack him off in a rough dry palm - but it's not enough, not for Johnny, not for either of them. He releases the shaft long enough to lick and spit in his hand before reaching back down to position Alan at his entrance.

Rickman meets his eyes, silently asking permission to fuck his ass raw - and of course, it's okay with Johnny who guides his cock to just the right spot before ramming it in hard.

"Oh God..." Alan's voice is hoarse with need. "... Oh... Johnny..."

It's a tight fit at first, hot, and close as Alan tries hard not to go crazy. Johnny is staring into the hazel eyes, starting to rock his pelvis against the protrusion, wanting more, wincing against the stinging pain.

"So good..." he's murmuring. "...yeah... hard, Alan."

Rickman starts to fuck frenetically now, slamming himself in deep only to retreat and he doesn't think he will last long and he wishes he could convey this to Johnny. But Johnny seems to be encouraging him, hands on his taut ass cheeks, digging nails in, rolling his ass forward and back, making Alan go insane with pleasure. His legs have found their way onto Alan's shoulders as the tip of cock meets the edges of prostate, sending lightening bolts of pleasure through the younger man.

It so hot inside and he's so close that nothing else even matters at this point. Alan's voice is unhinged, the deep calm sultry tones, uneven and hoarse, cries of rapture as he fills his younger companion with all of himself - and then leaves his warm essence deep in his welcoming belly as they both ejaculate in unison.

Cum is everywhere and both men are still trembling as Alan softens inside of him and then collapses over him as Johnny clings tightly, as only a lover would.

"I'm sorry." Rickman whispers after several minutes. "I've never... been like that..."

Johnny smirks at him. "That's a shame. That was the best I've ever had."

"Liar." Rickman shifts on the large couch so they are lying side-by-side, but slightly overlapping so that Johnny is resting his head in the crook of Alan's arm.

"I told Tim I liked you." Johnny murmurs sleepily.

"And he called you a fool, right?"

Johnny shakes his head, yawning. "No. He told me I have good taste in men."

Rickman flushes deeply. Even though he knows there's a certain 'hoopla' over him, he never quite believes it until he is faced with it directly. A naked Johnny Depp sleeping in the crook of his arm right now only serves to validate that because maybe this man is actually attracted to his mind and not just his voice or his... whatever.

The soft snores coming from the younger man are enough to start a snowball effect and soon Alan is detached from reality as well, his chest rising and falling in steady intervals as he joins Johnny, even in his dreams.

end
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