Fandom: Ocean's Eleven (2001) Character: Linus Caldwell (Mention of Danny Ocean/Rusty Ryan)
Notes: Beta Goddess Carol rocks!
Summary: Linus gets distracted from his assignment.
Linus was nervous.
Ever since he was a teenager, a quick session in a men’s room had been the best stress-reliever in his arsenal, especially since it didn’t require conning a doctor into writing the script.
Danny had called the gang together for another score, but the meeting wasn’t for half an hour. Orders were to lay low until then. They’d appear like a flash mob, get the information and disappear before anyone could get a good look.
He’d go in on any deal Danny Ocean wanted to pull, but he was still nervous. So many variables. Timing. Logistics. Danny’s weird sense of humor.
Linus had a surveillance set up in the hotel across from the meeting site. He was supposed to be keeping an eye out for known associates of Terry Benedict, or even an appearance by the head bastard himself, but he was nervous. His hand undid the zipper of his pants because he really needed it.
Danny and Rusty. Fuck. Lately it was always the same thing. Linus didn’t do guys, didn’t want to do Danny or Rusty himself, but the idea of them together was too hot to ignore. Danny’s eyes. Rusty’s smile. The way they clearly trusted each other more than they’d ever trust any woman, and much more than they trusted him. His mind knew it wasn’t logical, but his body didn’t care.
He closed his fist around his cock.
Sometimes he got hard just hearing them talk. Danny wising off about Rusty’s flashy wardrobe. Rusty giving Danny shit about his sentimental streak. Both of them hinting the other one might be gay, in a way that only two guys with no doubts about themselves possibly could.
If he could just see them go at it…
Danny would be the pitcher, of course, but for Danny and Rusty, it had to be all smooth and glossy. Danny might push Rusty up against a handy wall, whisper something filthy, but humorous, and quickly undo his belt to pull down his pants. He'd go in so easily that Rusty would barely skip a beat before coming back with a clever response.
Then Danny would be fucking Rusty, grasping his slim hips for leverage and they’d both look so damn good. Just one lock of hair falling on Danny’s forehead and Rusty not even that much, but his eyes going glassy, ‘cause Danny had to know what he was doing. That must feel so great. Maybe, someday, if he were lucky, Danny would…oh god. Rusty and Danny were moving in perfect synch and Linus was right there with them, gasping, coming.
That’s better, he thought, sighing, as he zipped up and took a look through the window only to find a bunch of goons congregating at the meeting spot. At least three of Benedict’s guys were there.
Danny was gonna be pissed.
Fuck, he thought, reaching for the phone.
Now he was getting nervous all over again.