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The thing is, Rob is good at his job. Infuriatingly so.
And so when it comes to shooting a scene that should have been like any other normal scene, Tom should have known to never expect normal from Robert Pattinson.
In their first week of filming for The Odyssey, the scene is one of the last scenes they film for the day. It takes place in a great hall full of suitors feasting their bellies on food and wine in Ithaca’s palace. Tom plays the role of Ithaca’s prince, Telemachus, heir to a throne that hasn’t seen its king in twenty years.
The suitors vie for the attention of Telemachus’ mother, Penelope. They compete for her affection with jeers and loud, raucous laughs as if they already reside in the palace. For years, they drink the wine of the palace as if it is theirs while Penelope hosts them with nothing but hospitality. And Tom, Telemachus, the abandoned son watches on with resentment.
Rob plays one of the suitors, Antinous. He urges Penelope to marry once again, to give up on her husband who is surely dead, and to choose him. Swaying Penelope’s heart is a hard task, but one he is about to see to the end. There is just the matter of Penelope’s son who is hell bent against his advances.
“Odysseus is dead,” Rob proclaims with the finality of someone who is ready to become king, save for one little obstacle.
Of course, Telemachus has something to say about that. “What do you know about my dad?”
“I know he never came home.”
Tom plays the role of bristling, defensive son. “Not yet.”
Then, Rob gets in his face about it.
Tom thought that as Antinous, Rob would play one of those snivelly, bastard, asshole types that make you want to punch them in the face. And he’s not wrong about that per say; Antinous is a special Rob-concocted blend of spineless and infuriating. But Rob doesn’t stop there.
Oh no, as with everything Rob does, he has tricks up his sleeve to take the scene up a notch, and it was Tom’s mistake to think this scene would ever be a normal one.
Rob flicks his gaze to Tom’s and doesn’t let his gaze stray for even a second. He leans into Tom’s ear and lowers his voice to something more gravelly. “You’re pining for a daddy you didn’t even know.”
The combination of Rob’s voice in his ear and the close proximity makes Tom’s hair stand on end. There must be something about the way Rob lets his voice taper off into an almost sinful whisper because it makes Tom do something he has never, ever done before on set. He full-body shivers.
Rob picks up on his reaction at once, because of course he does. The man is too perceptive for his own good. He quirks the corner of his mouth up, the side away from where the cameras are pointed, so no one but Tom sees.
He darts his tongue out and licks his lips before he continues, so close to Tom that he almost thinks for a moment that Rob is about to kiss him. “Like some sniveling bastard,” he says, drawing out the words until they echo in Tom’s ears.
Rob is just playing a role, Tom reminds himself. They’re acting. But if Rob is acting, why does he look like he wants to devour Tom whole?
With the way Rob holds his gaze for long after he says his line, it doesn’t seem any more like Rob is acting the suitor who is after Telemachus’ mother. But rather, he’s got only one person in mind and it’s Tom.
Someone to his right coughs. “Tom, your line.”
Right. The cameras are still shooting. And he needs to say his next line. Rob’s eyes burn into Tom’s skin. What was his next line again?
“Don’t claim to know who my father is,” Tom forces out, but the delivery is far too weak.
Chris cuts the scene and tells them that they’ll need to redo it. Rob just smirks at Tom in response. Rob’s naturally cheeky personality becomes infused with the knife’s edge of tension that his character shares with Tom’s character. And when his smirk is trained on Tom, Rob’s smirk becomes a dangerous, dangerous thing.
They film the same scene several more times. Each take is more of an exercise in Tom’s self control than the last.
Rob drags out and enunciates his lines, making every word take up as much space as he decides. When he speaks, it is as if the entire room waits on him. If there ever had been any debate about who controlled the room between Antinous and Telemachus, Rob makes it clearer than ever.
He plays up his body language, brushing his fingertips across Tom’s chest before he gets even closer to Tom, practically sharing the same air as him. One second, his touch is playful and mocking. The next second, his touch turns suggestive without even a moment’s warning.
Rob curls his hand around the nape of Tom’s neck. Tom gasps. The surprise contact, ghosting along the sensitive, bare skin of his neck leaves him breathless. He tries to suppress the startled expression on his face, but it is impossible for anything to escape Rob’s notice. Rob keeps his sharp eyes trained on Tom, ready to pick apart any reaction he betrays.
Tom’s body, unaware that it is being played, tingles like a livewire wherever Rob touches him. He becomes hyperaware of every movement Rob makes. The puff of Rob’s breath against his face has him shifting in his costume in between takes. Heat crawls up his neck and into his cheeks. The great hall is already hot and his heavy costume does not help very much, but the sight of Rob adorned in a cape, gray eyes glinting with mirth, somehow raises the temperature of the room even further.
A single scene shouldn’t affect him this much, he tells himself, and yet each burning look Rob gives him makes his heart stutter. Being under Rob’s undivided attention feels a little like being prey. Rob has transformed into the hunter, while Tom is the lamb being backed into a corner. And for Rob’s next meal, Tom’s body will be served up on a silver platter, his throat bared for Rob to sink his teeth into.
Each time Chris cuts the scene, Tom finds himself praying for Chris to finally be satisfied. And yet, Chris always finds another tweak he wants to make to the scene. “Again, but with more fight, Tom,” he directs. “There are higher stakes here.”
“Make sure to remember your lines this time,” Rob teases and smiles with a glint of his eyes. Tom suppresses a sigh. Rob is not letting him have it easy today.
Chris signals to start filming again. This time, Tom tries infusing his voice with more vitriol. “My dad is coming home.”
Rob meets him right where he’s at, stoking his anger with barbed words. He curls his lips in a sneer. “Oh, is he? Such a daddy’s boy, aren’t you?”
“You don’t know anything about my dad. Don’t you dare speak about him,” Tom spits out.
“And what about you?” Rob laughs and snakes an arm around Tom’s back. The camera doesn’t pick up on it because Tom faces the camera, but as Rob leans in to deliver his next line, he grazes his palm across Tom’s back, rubbing up and down and lingering along the small of his back.
Oh god, if Rob moves his hand oh ever so slightly down, then he would sweep his hand across the curve of Tom’s ass. Tom’s cock stirs at the thought. His face flushes for even daring to think of such an image while filming.
“You’re pining for a daddy you never knew, like some sniveling bastard,” Rob murmurs, voice filled with so much poison it almost sounds soft. His breath fans across Tom’s skin, and not for the first time, Tom finds himself unable to look away from Rob’s lips.
All Rob would have to do is come a little closer and then his lips would be on Tom’s. How would Rob kiss him, Tom wonders. Would Rob lead the kiss and make it a rough one? Suck at his upper lip until it is still sensitive hours later? Or would Rob let the kiss be soft, something that has Tom chasing for a next?
Mind muddled with images of Rob kissing his way down his throat, Tom cannot even remember when or how he delivers his next line. All he knows is that somehow, his delivery is enough for Chris to stop filming and declare the scene a success. “Well done, the both of you,” Chris says and calls it a day.
Tom slumps. What a relief. He does not want to imagine what Rob would have done or how he would have reacted if they had to shoot the scene one more time. Surely his heart would have given out. He turns to Rob with a smile, trying to hide how fast his heart thrums. “Nice job today.”
Rob catches his eyes. If it were even possible, he looks even hungrier than before. He winks. “You as well.”
Fuck.
Rob comes into Tom’s trailer just as he’s finished changing out of his costume. It is embarrassing, but just the sight of Rob again makes Tom lightheaded. The memory of Rob’s hand on his back and his attention on him rushes back.
Rob has cleaned up from his makeup and residue sweat left over from a long day of filming. All traces of Antinous are shed from his body, but a hint of the dangerous schemer remains in his expression. “Are we going to talk about it?” he asks.
Tom knows fully well what he’s talking about. Admitting it though would mean weakness. It would mean that Rob played him in exactly all the ways that Rob wanted to. “What is there to talk about?”
“Oh come on, Tom,” Rob sings, voice as cheeky as ever. He drops his voice and his gaze turns piercing. The hunter returns. “I saw how you reacted. You shivered.”
The part where he made Tom forget his lines goes unsaid. Tom swallows. “Right. And you were trying to get a rise out of me.”
“Yes, I was.” Rob makes a noise somewhat between a laugh and a chuckle. “But you know me better than that. I wouldn’t just do that to play with you.” He pauses and reconsiders. “Okay, well, maybe I would. But come on Tom, do I really need to spell it out for you?”
Tom levels him with a look and stays silent. Rob has already metaphorically backed him into a corner; Does he really think that Tom will be complicit in his own undoing? No, whatever Rob is getting at here, he’s going to have to say it himself.
“Have you seen the way I look at you?”
Of course Tom has noticed the way Rob looks at him. At first, he had chalked it up to a byproduct of filming an intense, charged scene together. But even now, he cannot deny that Rob looks at him as if trying to undress him with his eyes. Rob tracks his every movement, unwilling to let him out of his sight even for a second. God, the hunger in Rob’s eyes will be Tom’s ruin.
“Your breath quickened,” Rob murmurs. “You haven’t stopped glancing at my lips since we started filming. Back on set, you wanted me to kiss you, didn’t you?”
Really, what could Tom say other than yes, the thought of your lips on mine torments me? It is maddening how Rob knows full well the effect he has on Tom. The fact that Rob can read him like a book should not make Tom feel nearly as hot and bothered as it does.
Rob leans in. “I’m gonna kiss you now.”
Tom gives him an imperceptible nod.
Rob has just enough height over him that he has to bend his head down a little to reach Tom’s lips. Tom tilts his head up, and at last, their lips meet.
The kiss makes Tom’s breath hitch. Rob’s lips are soft and they capture his lips in a warmth so surreal it makes him want to stay nestled against Rob’s lips forever. In between breaths, Rob nips and then suckles gently on his bottom lip, leaving Tom angling his head for more. More of Rob’s touch, more of his heat.
When they finally pull apart, they are both breathless.
Tom surveys the damage. Rob’s hair is disheveled, a mess compared to the neatly arranged hair he approached Tom with. His lips are swollen with a light sheen of wetness still left on them. He looks debauched, pupils blown wide and mouth parted as he catches his breath, a far cry from the composed character he played no more than an hour ago. Tom cannot imagine that he looks much better himself.
Just when Tom thinks he’s finally brought Rob down to his level, a glint reappears in Rob’s eyes. He returns his hand to the nape of Tom’s neck and squeezes. “Was the kiss as good as you imagined? Or should we try it again?”
The last thought Tom has before everything fades in the wake of another kiss is of him sitting on Odysseus’ throne, Rob trailing kisses down his neck. It’s going to be a long three months of filming.