FIC: Reflections
I'm all for self-destruction, so I proudly present my very own LotR-RPS story.
Reflections
Author: Ghani Blue
Pairing: Harry Sinclair/Orlando Bloom
Rating: R
Summary: Harry’s trying to teach Orli a lesson.
Archive: Beyond the Fellowship, Beneath The Skin, anyone else just ask
Disclaimer: Nothing’s real, never happened outside my dream, pure imagination. That’s why it’s called fan fiction.
Notes: Finally, my first RPS fic. Orli!muse insists this story isn’t finished yet, but that’s all he’s telling me right now. Makes this piece the first part of the might-be „Mirrors“ series. Special thanks to Brenda for the beta, “Let’s hunt down the commas!”, and for introducing me to Harry in the first place. *g*
Feedback: I really wanna know what you think.
May 2002
He looks straight ahead, trying to concentrate on the street. Orlando sits right beside him in the car, driving home from a night out in town. They’ve been to their favourite restaurant, and Orli’s had a bit too much to drink. He’s slumped back in his seat, talking. Maybe rambling would fit more closely, though. Orli always gets like this. He starts babbling. Harry can’t quite understand what he’s telling, but he doesn’t care. Hearing Orli’s voice alone brings a smile to his lips.
It can’t have been more than one second that he’s actually turned to look at Orli but the next thing he hears are screeching brakes. For a moment he’s lost in a blurry haze, he isn’t injured when he checks himself, but then he turns his head in the direction where Orlando’s supposed to be, and all he can see is blood.
Harry awakes with a start, eyes wide. He can’t count anymore how ofter he’d woken up like this. Tangled in the sheets and trembling, his forehead covered in cold sweat.
He rubs a hand over his eyes and sighs deeply. The same dream. Every night. It has been haunting him for months now.
Harry reaches out his hand to feel for his lover next to him. The bed is empty, the sheets cold. He turns around. Where’s Orli?
He sits up and half-turns to look at the clock on the shelf. It reads 3:15am. Couldn’t Orli sleep, either? Harry stands up and, just as he reaches for the blanket to wrap around him, he hears the sound of shattering glass echoing through the house. What the hell? Only in his boxers, he runs to the door and down the stairs where he thinks the sound had come from.
It’s dark. Silent. There’s nothing to tell him what had happened. There is no broken window to explain the sound, either.
Harry feels nauseous, he can feel it in his guts something’s deeply wrong. He walks from the living room to the kitchen. Nothing. Everything looks perfectly fine, like it always does. He turns on his heels when he thinks to hear a small sound. It comes from the guest room. Orli, it shoots through him. He stumbles to the room. It’s empty but there it is again, the same sound. He searches in his brain for words to describe what he hears. It sounds like... almost like.. oh my god, like someone sobbing. He rushes to the bathroom door, opens it and his heart stops beating for a second. Slumped down in the middle of the white-tiled room sits Orli, crying.
When Orli looks up, Harry can see his tear-stained face and how his body shaks with heart-wrenching sobs. Harry feels his heart breaking at the sight, shattering in his chest. Every single one of Orli’s tears feels like acid on his skin.
Harry kneels down in front of him and cradles Orli in his arms. „What happened?“ he asks. „Don’t cry, please.“
Harry feels something sharp against his leg and, looking down, he sees that he’s cut himself on a piece of glass. Glass? Only then does he look around. The floor’s covered in shards.
„Orli, what have you done?“ Harry takes Orli’s face in his hands but Orli doesn’t answer. He just looks at Harry, wide-eyed. „Answer me, what happened?“
Orli struggles, tries to free his face from Harry’s grip, but as he doesn’t succeed he wispers, „I broke the mirror.“
„You did what?“ Harry gasps. He looks up then. There’s no mirror anymore, it lays shattered in pieces on the floor around them. Harry takes a deep breath, and fights to stand up, pulling Orli’s limp body with him.
Orli’s arms are covered with small cuts. He brings his arm around Orli’s waist and with the other hand fishes for an hankerchief to cover the floor, keeping Orli from cutting his feet, too. Harry guides him to the guest room, and makes him sit down on the edge of the bed.
„Stay there,“ Harry orders as he walks back to the bathroom to get a washcloth and dressing material.
He returns, sits down next to Orli, and begins to clean his arms and binds him up. Harry takes a look at Orli’s swollen face, the blood-shot eyes and asks again „Why did you do this?“ Orli just shrugs, refuses to look at him. „Tell me Orlando, you’re starting to scare me.“
Orli lets his head fall down to his chest, and Harry can hear a wispered, „I’m sorry.“
„I don’t want apologies, love. I want you to tell me what happened.“
„I didn’t want to look at me anymore.“
Harry grabs his chin and tilts Orli’s head up to look him in the eyes. He knows what Orli’s talking about. It’s not the first time something like this has happened. In fact, it has happened far too often. But this night is something new. He’s never before hurt himself.
This has to stop. It has to stop tonight. Harry needs to show him, to convince him he has to stop doing this to himself. He has to show him there’s nothing to fear in his reflection in the mirror. Harry lays the dressing material on the bed, stands up and holds his hand out. „Come with me.“
Orli looks at him, confused but takes Harry’s hand nevertheless. He lets himself be pulled to his feet. Orli follows Harry out of the room, up the narrow stairs. Harry takes him to their bedroom. He leaves Orli’s hand, and turns around to close the door and turn on the light.
Harry braces his back on the door and looks at Orli standing in the middle of the room. He seems so utterly lost to Harry that it almost tears his heart apart. In moments like this he realizes the age difference between them. Orli’s so much younger than himself and Harry wonders why he’s still here. Here with him.
„Harry?“ the confused voice brings Harry out of his reverie. He shakes his head to clear his mind. This isn’t the right time to think about it; he has to take care of Orli first.
He closes the gap between them, and puts his hands on Orli’s shoulders, guiding him, turns him around. Suddenly Harry knows what to do. He just hopes Orli will understand.
He presses Orli to take a step forward, his body against Orli’s back. He feels Orli tensing. It tells Harry that Orli knows what he has in mind. He increases the pressure on Orli’s shoulders, making him take some more steps until they’re standing in front of the wardrobe.
Harry places a soft kiss on the back of Orli’s neck. „It’s not going to hurt, love.“ Harry loosens his grip and opens one of the wardrobe’s doors. In the corner of his eye Harry sees Orli trying to turn around but he grabs Orli’s hand, keeping him from running away.
Orli doesn’t look at him. „Please.“
Harry shakes his head and pulls Orli close.
Inside the wardrobe, there’s a mirror reaching from the ground across the whole side of the door. Orli knows it, and has closed his eyes almost out of reflex.
Harry places himself behind him, and looks above Orli’s shoulder at their reflections in the mirror. His right hand has a hold on Orli’s hand and his left arm comes around Orli’s waist.
Orli sighs quietly, and leanes back against Harry’s chest. Orli turns his head slightly to the side. „Let me go.“
Harry kisses him lightly on the temple. „Not yet. I want you to look at you. I want you to see what I see.“
Orli opens his eyes tentativly, his face an unreadable mask. „And what is it you see?“, his voice isscornful, bitter. Harry places the hand that was formerly curled around Orli’s waist on his cheek, and turns Orli’s face to the mirror. This time Orli doesn’t close his eyes.
„Beauty.“ Harry sees Orli’s disbelieving look, sees the question in his eyes.
„Look at yourself,“ he says, „I want you to open you eyes and really look at you.“ Harry lets go of Orli’s hand and brings it down to the hem of Orli’s shirt.
„Lift your arms.“ Orli tenses. „Please.“
He’s still resistant. „I want to see you.“
After a moment of silence Orli finally lifts his arms. Harry pulls the shirt over Orli’s head and throws it careless on the ground. He looks into the mirror again to see Orli’s head bent down, his body twisted to shield it from Harry’s eyes.
Harry won’t let him. „Don’t.“ Not this time. Never again.
He kisses Orli’s shoulder, tastes his skin with his tongue, and feels Orli melt against his chest. Harry tightens his arm around Orli’s waist again, his palm on Orli’s stomach. His other hand traces the line of Orli’s collarbone, slowly, taking his time. Brushing the tip of his finger over Orli’s skin.
„I want you to look at yourself.“
Orli lifts his head, and meets Harry’s gaze in the mirror. Harry’s heart aches when he sees the pain in his lover’s eyes. He holds Orli’s gaze and says in a low voice, „You are beautiful“ He catches the flicker in Orli’s eyes.
Harry touches a pale white scar across Orli’s chest. A small whimpering sound reaches Harry’s ears and almost brings him to his knees. „So beautiful,“ he whispers.
Orli rests his head on Harry’s shoulder again, but doesn’t try to close his eyes this time. Harry tilts his head to place soft kisses along Orli’s neck, feels Orli shiver under his touch. His hand trails lazy circles across Orli’s stomach, feels muscle tightening and stretching. His index finger traces another faint scar right under Orli’s ripcage. He knows there are more. He’s seen them when Orli hasn’t been fast enough to cover his body, or in the night when he’s actually allowed Harry to touch him. Orli always flinches, though.
Harry has his dreams, and Orli the marks on his body. The reminder of this one disasterous night in the car months ago.
Harry brings his other hand up, and places it right above Orli’s heart. He can feel Orli’s breath getting heavier, hears Orli gasp as the other hand travels downwards, hooking his thumb in the waistband of Orli’s shorts.
Harry locks his gaze with Orli’s in the mirror. He loves what he sees there, the look in Orli’s half-lidded eyes, his flushed face, his slightly parted lips. Loves him. ‘God, he’s so beautiful,’ Harry thinks when a wave of possessiveness washes over him. He slips his hand into Orli’s shorts, and slides them down over slim hips. A moan escapes Orli’s lips, and Harry feels it vibrating in the air. He pulls Orli closer to feel more of him against his body. Harry aches for Orli, and lets him know by pressing his groin against Orli. Orli arched his back in return, and tries to bring his hand between them to touch Harry, but Harry grabs it and brings it to his lips to kiss Orli’s palm.
„Please,“ Orli whimpers.
„Hush,“ Harry breathes, and leans down to nip on the juncture of Orli’s neck and shoulder. His hand, still entwined with Orli’s, comes down to Orli’s waist to hold him, while he makes Orli step out of the shorts. The small movement makes Orli’s ass rub against Harry’s arousal, and he moans into Orli’s neck. A small smile plays across Orli’s lips when Harry looks at him in the mirror. Harry needs him, yearns to touch him. Yearns for his touch.
Orli’s already hard against Harry’s hand. Velvety soft and hard as steel. Orli moves his hip to press into Harry’s touch. „Please,“ he gasps again as Harry begins to softly stroke him. Harry traces the length of him and twirls his thumb across the head. He tries to hold Orli still when Orli starts to thrust against his hand.
The movement of Harry’s hand leaves Orli panting. There’s a slight sheen of sweat on his body, and Harry drinks in the sight of him in the mirror. He doesn’t need to remind Orli to open his eyes anymore. Harry finds Orli looking at their reflection, his eyes misted over, dark locks clinging to his forehead. Harry increases the pace, and Orli’s eyelids begin to flutter. Orli’s breath comes in short gasps now, and Harry feels his heart pounding in his chest. Orli’s head rolls to one side, his breath grazing the skin on Harry’s neck, sending shivers down his spine. He feels Orli shudder and pulls him close. Harry tries to keep his own legs from shaking when he feels Orli come in his hand, warm against his fingers.
He holds Orli’s trembling body in his arms, places loving kisses on his forehead, his cheeks. Orli sighs in contentment against Harry’s neck, amazed eyes studying him. Once again, Harry thinks about drowning in brown depths. „Orli“, he whispers but Orli shuts him up with a kiss. His lips move over Harry’s, and Harry forgets what he wanted to say. Harry loses himself in the sensation of Orli’s mouth, the taste of him, the feel of a soft tongue dancing with his own.
He has not enough time to mourn the loss of Orli’s touch when Orli’s lips suddenly close around Harry’s cock. He opens his eyes with a yelp, and briefly wonders how Orli’d managed to yank his boxers down without him noticing it. Harry looks down to find Orli on his knees. The thought passes through his brain that he could come just from looking at his cock buried in Orli’s mouth . Orli’s lips are soft and hot against his cock. This time Orli’s tongue performs a dance that completly undoes Harry.
He closes his eyes, and buries his hand in Orli’s hair as he spills himself into Orli’s mouth.
Harry lazily opens his eyes again, and stares down at Orli who greedily licks the remnants of his orgasm from Harry’s cock. Orli looks up, and flashes him a brilliant smile.
Harry almost tumbles when he kneels in front of Orli, lays his hands on both sides of Orli’s face and brings Orli’s lips to him for a long, thorough kiss. He tastes the sweetness that’s all Orli and himself on his tongue. His arms encircle Orli, and pulls him as close as possible. Orli has his arms around Harry’s neck when they finally pull apart slightly, gasping for air.
After their breath has become a little more even, Harry tightens his embrace around Orli even more and whispers into his ear. „I love you.“
„Love you so much.“ Orli answers.
Harry touches his fingers to Orli’s face, caressing his cheek, tracing the contours of the beloved face. „You’re the most beautiful person I’ve ever met and you’ll always be. It’s not just your body I love, but your heart.“
End.
Reflections
Author: Ghani Blue
Pairing: Harry Sinclair/Orlando Bloom
Rating: R
Summary: Harry’s trying to teach Orli a lesson.
Archive: Beyond the Fellowship, Beneath The Skin, anyone else just ask
Disclaimer: Nothing’s real, never happened outside my dream, pure imagination. That’s why it’s called fan fiction.
Notes: Finally, my first RPS fic. Orli!muse insists this story isn’t finished yet, but that’s all he’s telling me right now. Makes this piece the first part of the might-be „Mirrors“ series. Special thanks to Brenda for the beta, “Let’s hunt down the commas!”, and for introducing me to Harry in the first place. *g*
Feedback: I really wanna know what you think.
May 2002
He looks straight ahead, trying to concentrate on the street. Orlando sits right beside him in the car, driving home from a night out in town. They’ve been to their favourite restaurant, and Orli’s had a bit too much to drink. He’s slumped back in his seat, talking. Maybe rambling would fit more closely, though. Orli always gets like this. He starts babbling. Harry can’t quite understand what he’s telling, but he doesn’t care. Hearing Orli’s voice alone brings a smile to his lips.
It can’t have been more than one second that he’s actually turned to look at Orli but the next thing he hears are screeching brakes. For a moment he’s lost in a blurry haze, he isn’t injured when he checks himself, but then he turns his head in the direction where Orlando’s supposed to be, and all he can see is blood.
Harry awakes with a start, eyes wide. He can’t count anymore how ofter he’d woken up like this. Tangled in the sheets and trembling, his forehead covered in cold sweat.
He rubs a hand over his eyes and sighs deeply. The same dream. Every night. It has been haunting him for months now.
Harry reaches out his hand to feel for his lover next to him. The bed is empty, the sheets cold. He turns around. Where’s Orli?
He sits up and half-turns to look at the clock on the shelf. It reads 3:15am. Couldn’t Orli sleep, either? Harry stands up and, just as he reaches for the blanket to wrap around him, he hears the sound of shattering glass echoing through the house. What the hell? Only in his boxers, he runs to the door and down the stairs where he thinks the sound had come from.
It’s dark. Silent. There’s nothing to tell him what had happened. There is no broken window to explain the sound, either.
Harry feels nauseous, he can feel it in his guts something’s deeply wrong. He walks from the living room to the kitchen. Nothing. Everything looks perfectly fine, like it always does. He turns on his heels when he thinks to hear a small sound. It comes from the guest room. Orli, it shoots through him. He stumbles to the room. It’s empty but there it is again, the same sound. He searches in his brain for words to describe what he hears. It sounds like... almost like.. oh my god, like someone sobbing. He rushes to the bathroom door, opens it and his heart stops beating for a second. Slumped down in the middle of the white-tiled room sits Orli, crying.
When Orli looks up, Harry can see his tear-stained face and how his body shaks with heart-wrenching sobs. Harry feels his heart breaking at the sight, shattering in his chest. Every single one of Orli’s tears feels like acid on his skin.
Harry kneels down in front of him and cradles Orli in his arms. „What happened?“ he asks. „Don’t cry, please.“
Harry feels something sharp against his leg and, looking down, he sees that he’s cut himself on a piece of glass. Glass? Only then does he look around. The floor’s covered in shards.
„Orli, what have you done?“ Harry takes Orli’s face in his hands but Orli doesn’t answer. He just looks at Harry, wide-eyed. „Answer me, what happened?“
Orli struggles, tries to free his face from Harry’s grip, but as he doesn’t succeed he wispers, „I broke the mirror.“
„You did what?“ Harry gasps. He looks up then. There’s no mirror anymore, it lays shattered in pieces on the floor around them. Harry takes a deep breath, and fights to stand up, pulling Orli’s limp body with him.
Orli’s arms are covered with small cuts. He brings his arm around Orli’s waist and with the other hand fishes for an hankerchief to cover the floor, keeping Orli from cutting his feet, too. Harry guides him to the guest room, and makes him sit down on the edge of the bed.
„Stay there,“ Harry orders as he walks back to the bathroom to get a washcloth and dressing material.
He returns, sits down next to Orli, and begins to clean his arms and binds him up. Harry takes a look at Orli’s swollen face, the blood-shot eyes and asks again „Why did you do this?“ Orli just shrugs, refuses to look at him. „Tell me Orlando, you’re starting to scare me.“
Orli lets his head fall down to his chest, and Harry can hear a wispered, „I’m sorry.“
„I don’t want apologies, love. I want you to tell me what happened.“
„I didn’t want to look at me anymore.“
Harry grabs his chin and tilts Orli’s head up to look him in the eyes. He knows what Orli’s talking about. It’s not the first time something like this has happened. In fact, it has happened far too often. But this night is something new. He’s never before hurt himself.
This has to stop. It has to stop tonight. Harry needs to show him, to convince him he has to stop doing this to himself. He has to show him there’s nothing to fear in his reflection in the mirror. Harry lays the dressing material on the bed, stands up and holds his hand out. „Come with me.“
Orli looks at him, confused but takes Harry’s hand nevertheless. He lets himself be pulled to his feet. Orli follows Harry out of the room, up the narrow stairs. Harry takes him to their bedroom. He leaves Orli’s hand, and turns around to close the door and turn on the light.
Harry braces his back on the door and looks at Orli standing in the middle of the room. He seems so utterly lost to Harry that it almost tears his heart apart. In moments like this he realizes the age difference between them. Orli’s so much younger than himself and Harry wonders why he’s still here. Here with him.
„Harry?“ the confused voice brings Harry out of his reverie. He shakes his head to clear his mind. This isn’t the right time to think about it; he has to take care of Orli first.
He closes the gap between them, and puts his hands on Orli’s shoulders, guiding him, turns him around. Suddenly Harry knows what to do. He just hopes Orli will understand.
He presses Orli to take a step forward, his body against Orli’s back. He feels Orli tensing. It tells Harry that Orli knows what he has in mind. He increases the pressure on Orli’s shoulders, making him take some more steps until they’re standing in front of the wardrobe.
Harry places a soft kiss on the back of Orli’s neck. „It’s not going to hurt, love.“ Harry loosens his grip and opens one of the wardrobe’s doors. In the corner of his eye Harry sees Orli trying to turn around but he grabs Orli’s hand, keeping him from running away.
Orli doesn’t look at him. „Please.“
Harry shakes his head and pulls Orli close.
Inside the wardrobe, there’s a mirror reaching from the ground across the whole side of the door. Orli knows it, and has closed his eyes almost out of reflex.
Harry places himself behind him, and looks above Orli’s shoulder at their reflections in the mirror. His right hand has a hold on Orli’s hand and his left arm comes around Orli’s waist.
Orli sighs quietly, and leanes back against Harry’s chest. Orli turns his head slightly to the side. „Let me go.“
Harry kisses him lightly on the temple. „Not yet. I want you to look at you. I want you to see what I see.“
Orli opens his eyes tentativly, his face an unreadable mask. „And what is it you see?“, his voice isscornful, bitter. Harry places the hand that was formerly curled around Orli’s waist on his cheek, and turns Orli’s face to the mirror. This time Orli doesn’t close his eyes.
„Beauty.“ Harry sees Orli’s disbelieving look, sees the question in his eyes.
„Look at yourself,“ he says, „I want you to open you eyes and really look at you.“ Harry lets go of Orli’s hand and brings it down to the hem of Orli’s shirt.
„Lift your arms.“ Orli tenses. „Please.“
He’s still resistant. „I want to see you.“
After a moment of silence Orli finally lifts his arms. Harry pulls the shirt over Orli’s head and throws it careless on the ground. He looks into the mirror again to see Orli’s head bent down, his body twisted to shield it from Harry’s eyes.
Harry won’t let him. „Don’t.“ Not this time. Never again.
He kisses Orli’s shoulder, tastes his skin with his tongue, and feels Orli melt against his chest. Harry tightens his arm around Orli’s waist again, his palm on Orli’s stomach. His other hand traces the line of Orli’s collarbone, slowly, taking his time. Brushing the tip of his finger over Orli’s skin.
„I want you to look at yourself.“
Orli lifts his head, and meets Harry’s gaze in the mirror. Harry’s heart aches when he sees the pain in his lover’s eyes. He holds Orli’s gaze and says in a low voice, „You are beautiful“ He catches the flicker in Orli’s eyes.
Harry touches a pale white scar across Orli’s chest. A small whimpering sound reaches Harry’s ears and almost brings him to his knees. „So beautiful,“ he whispers.
Orli rests his head on Harry’s shoulder again, but doesn’t try to close his eyes this time. Harry tilts his head to place soft kisses along Orli’s neck, feels Orli shiver under his touch. His hand trails lazy circles across Orli’s stomach, feels muscle tightening and stretching. His index finger traces another faint scar right under Orli’s ripcage. He knows there are more. He’s seen them when Orli hasn’t been fast enough to cover his body, or in the night when he’s actually allowed Harry to touch him. Orli always flinches, though.
Harry has his dreams, and Orli the marks on his body. The reminder of this one disasterous night in the car months ago.
Harry brings his other hand up, and places it right above Orli’s heart. He can feel Orli’s breath getting heavier, hears Orli gasp as the other hand travels downwards, hooking his thumb in the waistband of Orli’s shorts.
Harry locks his gaze with Orli’s in the mirror. He loves what he sees there, the look in Orli’s half-lidded eyes, his flushed face, his slightly parted lips. Loves him. ‘God, he’s so beautiful,’ Harry thinks when a wave of possessiveness washes over him. He slips his hand into Orli’s shorts, and slides them down over slim hips. A moan escapes Orli’s lips, and Harry feels it vibrating in the air. He pulls Orli closer to feel more of him against his body. Harry aches for Orli, and lets him know by pressing his groin against Orli. Orli arched his back in return, and tries to bring his hand between them to touch Harry, but Harry grabs it and brings it to his lips to kiss Orli’s palm.
„Please,“ Orli whimpers.
„Hush,“ Harry breathes, and leans down to nip on the juncture of Orli’s neck and shoulder. His hand, still entwined with Orli’s, comes down to Orli’s waist to hold him, while he makes Orli step out of the shorts. The small movement makes Orli’s ass rub against Harry’s arousal, and he moans into Orli’s neck. A small smile plays across Orli’s lips when Harry looks at him in the mirror. Harry needs him, yearns to touch him. Yearns for his touch.
Orli’s already hard against Harry’s hand. Velvety soft and hard as steel. Orli moves his hip to press into Harry’s touch. „Please,“ he gasps again as Harry begins to softly stroke him. Harry traces the length of him and twirls his thumb across the head. He tries to hold Orli still when Orli starts to thrust against his hand.
The movement of Harry’s hand leaves Orli panting. There’s a slight sheen of sweat on his body, and Harry drinks in the sight of him in the mirror. He doesn’t need to remind Orli to open his eyes anymore. Harry finds Orli looking at their reflection, his eyes misted over, dark locks clinging to his forehead. Harry increases the pace, and Orli’s eyelids begin to flutter. Orli’s breath comes in short gasps now, and Harry feels his heart pounding in his chest. Orli’s head rolls to one side, his breath grazing the skin on Harry’s neck, sending shivers down his spine. He feels Orli shudder and pulls him close. Harry tries to keep his own legs from shaking when he feels Orli come in his hand, warm against his fingers.
He holds Orli’s trembling body in his arms, places loving kisses on his forehead, his cheeks. Orli sighs in contentment against Harry’s neck, amazed eyes studying him. Once again, Harry thinks about drowning in brown depths. „Orli“, he whispers but Orli shuts him up with a kiss. His lips move over Harry’s, and Harry forgets what he wanted to say. Harry loses himself in the sensation of Orli’s mouth, the taste of him, the feel of a soft tongue dancing with his own.
He has not enough time to mourn the loss of Orli’s touch when Orli’s lips suddenly close around Harry’s cock. He opens his eyes with a yelp, and briefly wonders how Orli’d managed to yank his boxers down without him noticing it. Harry looks down to find Orli on his knees. The thought passes through his brain that he could come just from looking at his cock buried in Orli’s mouth . Orli’s lips are soft and hot against his cock. This time Orli’s tongue performs a dance that completly undoes Harry.
He closes his eyes, and buries his hand in Orli’s hair as he spills himself into Orli’s mouth.
Harry lazily opens his eyes again, and stares down at Orli who greedily licks the remnants of his orgasm from Harry’s cock. Orli looks up, and flashes him a brilliant smile.
Harry almost tumbles when he kneels in front of Orli, lays his hands on both sides of Orli’s face and brings Orli’s lips to him for a long, thorough kiss. He tastes the sweetness that’s all Orli and himself on his tongue. His arms encircle Orli, and pulls him as close as possible. Orli has his arms around Harry’s neck when they finally pull apart slightly, gasping for air.
After their breath has become a little more even, Harry tightens his embrace around Orli even more and whispers into his ear. „I love you.“
„Love you so much.“ Orli answers.
Harry touches his fingers to Orli’s face, caressing his cheek, tracing the contours of the beloved face. „You’re the most beautiful person I’ve ever met and you’ll always be. It’s not just your body I love, but your heart.“
End.