(no subject)
Title: “Stay”
Author: Captain Daisyshine (Hitchcock_Princess182@hotmail.com)
Pairing: OrliBean
Rating: NC-17
Warnings: Sap, sap, sap, sap, more sap... Did I mention the smut, by the way?
Series: None, as of yet, but perhaps... *strokes beard (or lack thereof) thoughtfully*
Archive: “Take it; it’s yours!” Just let me know, okies?
Disclaimer: Oh, boy, if you believe a word of this, it’s quite likely that you’re delusional. Or just really, really dumb. I made it all up. I’m implying nothing. *solemn nod*
Feedback: is the cherry in my martini, the olive on my sundae. Please feed me back!
Notes: I don’t really know how good I am at this yet, so pointers, praise, tips, objections, criticisms, things I can improve or things you like... Please let me know. I’ll have your babies!!! (???) (Semi-) Inspired by a beautiful Alison Krauss song and a beautiful Tennyson poem. And the figurative language is at an all-time high.
Dedication: Once again to Her Razzleness the Duchess of Slashingham, Slash Goddess Extraordinaire, for her support, pancakes, bananas, JELL-O, tartan dancing, and general slashy goodness; to moblo413 for nudging the bunnies along; to Smai for getting me hooked on slash in the first place; to Caitlin- just because I love you and you love slash (and there is nothing wrong with that!); to those who read and enjoyed “Up Against the Wall” or “Baby, It’s You” and requested more OrliBean; and finally, to my perpetually randy muses. Pervy sods in general, but they decided this fic was going to be a bit sweeter than the other two. *tweaks noses affectionately*
“Where have you been, my long lost friend?
It's good to see you again.
Come and sit for a while; I've missed your smile.
Today the past is goodbye.
Time can't erase a lovers' embrace.
Can't you hear it calling? a new day dawning?
You were longing to find-
Love's taken you far away from my arms,
And I've been here all along.
Have your eyes failed to find what took you from mine?
A vision that's faded through time...
Stay...”
“Stay”, Alison Krauss and Union Station
“Tears, idle tears, I know not what they mean,
Tears from the depth of some divine despair
Rise in the heart, and gather to the eyes,
In looking on the happy autumn-fields,
And thinking of the days that are no more...”
“Tears, Idle Tears”, Alfred, Lord Tennyson
“Beanie!” I hear an excited shout as I step off the ramp of the plane at the aeroport in Malta. Okay, someone’s here to meet me; that’s hardly unusual. But someone who calls me Beanie? I scan the faces of the crowd for one that’s familiar. Then I see Orlando. My face lights up with a grin I can’t restrain. It’s been too long.
“Orli!” I yell enthusiastically. He steps lightly over the barrier meant to keep the crowd back from the plane- Legolas’ feline movements have stuck with the boy- and runs towards me. A few security officials yell at him halfheartedly, but by that time I’ve dropped my things and he’s leapt into my arms. He hugs me tight, kissing my cheek and slapping my back with exuberance. Yeah, way too long.
“How’ve you been since I saw you, mate?” he asks, picking up my bags from where I dropped them. I wrestle him for the larger one, but he insists on carrying all of my stuff.
“I’ll get it! Anyway, how are you?”
“Hm,” I reply absently.
“That good, eh?” he teases, the worried look in his eyes belying his jest.
“Yeah,” I answer. He looks at me suspiciously. I shrug. “Really. What about you?”
“Oh, fine. I’ve had plenty of work to keep me busy. I missed you, Sean.” He looks right at me, and the effect is unnerving, like he’s staring directly into my brain. His voice and demeanour have changed from giddy to solemn in a matter of seconds. I turn away, unable to confront the seriousness in his face.
“I missed you, too,” I respond, putting it mildly. Very mildly. I turn back towards him, and when our eyes meet, I’m pinned to the spot by something I’m not sure I can explain. We stand there like overly lifelike statues for nearly a minute until something snaps us back to reality, namely the voice of the woman announcing flights over the loudspeaker system. Shaking my head, I turn around and head towards Baggage Claim to pick up my other suitcases. We take a cab over to the set.
******
“Here’s your trailer,” says Orlando. He gestures to the right. “There’s mine, the next one over. So I’ll be close by, anyway.” We go inside and set my things down just inside the door. He looks a bit uncomfortable with just hanging around.
“Right, well, if you need anything, you know where to find me,” he pronounces, walking towards the door. Something in me panics. I don’t want him to go just yet.
“Wait!” I cry. He’s already down the steps that lead up to the trailer. He turns back to look at me. I falter for a moment at the lost look in those big brown eyes the magazines are always touting as his best feature. Do I really want to involve myself in any way, shape, or form with one very vulnerable Orlando Bloom? The answer is probably no, particularly knowing what I know, but what do I know?
“Erm, do you want to stay? I could... er...” I trail off. I don’t have anything to offer him as enticement to stay. “Er, well, I haven’t unpacked anything yet, as you know, so... oh, forget it.” I’m about to go back inside when he stops me.
“That’s okay; I’ll stay anyway- that is, if it’s not too much of a bother. You probably want to unpack,” he finishes resignedly, something like hope shining doubtfully in his eyes. I shake my head, laughing at our ridiculous shared shyness.
“No, actually, what I want more than anything right now is for you to stay, and we can talk a while.” I somehow manage not to add a qualifying ‘if you’re up for it’ sort of deal. He looks at me a moment, then smiles broadly. Oh God, I’ve missed that smile.
“Me, too,” he says, chuckling, and follows me back into the trailer. We sit down on opposite sides of the sofa- the trailer is already furnished- grinning like idiots at one another. Then, for some reason, his eyes look suspiciously watery, and before I know it, I’m being faced with a crying Orlando. He’s still laughing, though. I’m feeling a bit choked up myself. Sitting here with him brings back so many memories.
“‘Tears, idle tears, I know not what they mean,’” I recite abstractedly, reaching out a hand to stroke his cheek. He beams at me.
“That’s Tennyson- ‘Tears, Idle Tears’. You’re quoting Tennyson at me. I don’t know why I never...” He stops, suddenly overcome with emotion. Now he’s crying in earnest, and I move closer to him so he can lay his head on my shoulder. I cradle him against me, stroking his back soothingly. I can only guess that he’s remembering things, too. Hugs that were a little over-friendly and far too lingering. Long nights spent just talking until the sun rose despite early calls. Moments where everything just seemed to freeze and we were the only two people anywhere in the world until one of us looked away and broke the spell. Now he’s repositioning himself, climbing into my lap and bracing his hands on my shoulders, gazing into my eyes sincerely, and every bit of stage fright I’ve never felt is welling up inside me, and I’m afraid I’m going to scream until he reassures me there’s nothing to be frightened of.
“Oh God, Sean,” he sighs wearily, a spark of jaded fatigue flashing in his eyes, not something I’m accustomed to associating with Orlando. “Why didn’t we ever tell each other...?” He doesn’t have to finish his question. It’s one I’ve always wanted to ask.
“I think we thought we were just being stupid to even think...” What the shit am I going on about? I try again, hoping for more coherency. “Or maybe we were too caught up in our own uncertainties,” I muse.
“If I tell you something now-... do you think it could make up for all of those other times when I wanted to say it so badly but didn’t have the guts to?” he asks, looking as scared as if I were about to skewer him with acupuncture needles.
“It could. And if I say it back?”
He smiles fondly. “I love you, Sean.”
My eyes go wide and my chest is constricted; I can’t breathe. There’s no way I could have prepared myself for the sudden force with which his admission hits me, no matter how much I was expecting it. Then I catch my breath again.
“Orlando.” I love the way his name rolls off my tongue, sliding like fresh, clean, cool summer linen against overheated skin. “I love you, too.” And suddenly he’s kissing me, just the way I’ve always wished he would, gently yet with a demanding edge that makes me moan somewhere in the back of my throat and manoeuvre us both so that he’s lying on the sofa and I’m stretched out on top of him.
“Sean,” he growls. He’s looking up at me with dark, lust-clouded eyes, Paris’ soft brown curls framing his face, and then he grinds his crotch up into mine and I’m hard as nails and my eyes are fluttering as I desperately try to keep them open. “Sean, I want-” But I know what he wants. I nod shortly and roll off him, reaching for my bag of essentials. There’s always a small bag of condoms and lube in there, thank God. I find it reasonably quickly, grabbing the little bottle and one foil-wrapped packet. I hold them up so Orlando can see.
“Yes? Is this what you want?” It wouldn’t do any good for him to be uncertain now. He nods hungrily and drops his gaze to my cock, which hardens measurably with one simple look from him. I groan and lose no time in getting his clothes off. The shirt goes quickly, but I’m almost tentative about pulling down his trousers and shorts. I do it reverently, lovingly, until he hisses at me to hurry up. When he’s finally lying there in the altogether, I suck in a breath. Christ, he’s fucking beautiful. I’d like to savour this moment, but Orlando’s having none of it.
“Fucking hurry up already, Bean!” he moans. “Get your clothes off and your cock inside me *now*.” I exhale sharply. I wouldn’t have expected him to be a dirty talker, but he’s good at it. I strip as rapidly as humanly possible and roll the condom on. I look at him, lying there on the couch, looking lethally sexy and thoroughly debauched, and I feel this wave of pure lust wash over me. Then I consider the logistics of the situation. If we try what I’ve got in mind on the sofa, someone’s going to be quite uncomfortable. If, however, we relocate our activities to the conveniently soft-carpeted floor... The possibilities are endless.
“Orli.”
“Yes?”
“Floor.”
“Yes.”
In a move worthy of his blond Elven alter-ego, Orlando leaps off the couch and comes flying at me, knocking my legs out from under me so I fall to the floor along with him. Then he pounces, straddling my hips and pinning my wrists above my head. He leans down and kisses me again, and I feel like I’m going up in smoke. When he pauses to catch his breath and simultaneously grinds his arse down on my aching cock, I let out a low, throaty moan and use all of my strength to roll us over so that I’m sitting on my knees between his parted thighs. He grins.
“Okay?” He nods. I pour some lube onto a few fingers and drop one down between the cheeks of his arse, sliding it into him slowly and gently. His eyes go huge, but he hasn’t asked me to stop, so I keep pushing it in, wiggling it a bit until I find the raised mound of nerves and stroke it hard enough to make him groan. I use his moment of ecstasy to cancel out the pain of a second finger joining the first. I hold still for a moment and then begin to scissor my fingers slightly, stretching him.
”Unnnh,” he moans, tossing his head from side to side. His back arches and he shoves his hips down, apparently attempting to impale himself on my fingers. I add a third, just to be safe, and move them around a bit before drawing back. Orlando gives a keening wail when he finds himself so empty, but I slick myself up quickly and lift his hips, encouraging him to wrap those long lean legs around my waist. I raise my eyebrows questioningly, but he only whines in response and I know he’s ready. I push in slowly- there’s no way I’m taking any chances- but he digs his heels into my lower back to pull me closer more rapidly.
“Christ, Orlando, you’re so fucking tight,” I manage to grind out hoarsely, still maintaining a few shards of control.
“You’re so fucking big, Sean,” he answers, and my eyelids flutter shut for a second as I struggle not to implode or spontaneously combust or something from the combined heat of his body and his words. But I open my eyes again, willing them not to close, as I push in the rest of the way and change my angle to hit his prostate head-on. The look on his face, one of pure rapture, is well worth the effort of keeping my eyes open, and the long, low moan he lets out finally provides me with the incentive I needed to abandon myself to the pent-up lust I’ve harboured so long for the boy, and I draw out, only to slam back into him. He screams his pleasure and I take care to repeat the action he relishes so much over and over until my breathing is ragged and he’s thrashing wildly beneath me. I reach between us and take hold of his neglected erection, stroking it vigourously in time with my thrusts.
I lean down so that my mouth is close to his ear. “I want you to come for me, Orlando,” I growl, and it’s enough to send him into orgasm. As he flies over the edge, taking me with him, we shout our mutual exaltation.
“I love you, Orlando.” Just to make sure he knows it.
“I love you, too, Sean.”
******
Lying there on the floor with Orlando, one of my best mates and the love of my life, after the hottest sex I’ve ever had, I smile. I think he’ll stay for a while.
Author: Captain Daisyshine (Hitchcock_Princess182@hotmail.com)
Pairing: OrliBean
Rating: NC-17
Warnings: Sap, sap, sap, sap, more sap... Did I mention the smut, by the way?
Series: None, as of yet, but perhaps... *strokes beard (or lack thereof) thoughtfully*
Archive: “Take it; it’s yours!” Just let me know, okies?
Disclaimer: Oh, boy, if you believe a word of this, it’s quite likely that you’re delusional. Or just really, really dumb. I made it all up. I’m implying nothing. *solemn nod*
Feedback: is the cherry in my martini, the olive on my sundae. Please feed me back!
Notes: I don’t really know how good I am at this yet, so pointers, praise, tips, objections, criticisms, things I can improve or things you like... Please let me know. I’ll have your babies!!! (???) (Semi-) Inspired by a beautiful Alison Krauss song and a beautiful Tennyson poem. And the figurative language is at an all-time high.
Dedication: Once again to Her Razzleness the Duchess of Slashingham, Slash Goddess Extraordinaire, for her support, pancakes, bananas, JELL-O, tartan dancing, and general slashy goodness; to moblo413 for nudging the bunnies along; to Smai for getting me hooked on slash in the first place; to Caitlin- just because I love you and you love slash (and there is nothing wrong with that!); to those who read and enjoyed “Up Against the Wall” or “Baby, It’s You” and requested more OrliBean; and finally, to my perpetually randy muses. Pervy sods in general, but they decided this fic was going to be a bit sweeter than the other two. *tweaks noses affectionately*
“Where have you been, my long lost friend?
It's good to see you again.
Come and sit for a while; I've missed your smile.
Today the past is goodbye.
Time can't erase a lovers' embrace.
Can't you hear it calling? a new day dawning?
You were longing to find-
Love's taken you far away from my arms,
And I've been here all along.
Have your eyes failed to find what took you from mine?
A vision that's faded through time...
Stay...”
“Stay”, Alison Krauss and Union Station
“Tears, idle tears, I know not what they mean,
Tears from the depth of some divine despair
Rise in the heart, and gather to the eyes,
In looking on the happy autumn-fields,
And thinking of the days that are no more...”
“Tears, Idle Tears”, Alfred, Lord Tennyson
“Beanie!” I hear an excited shout as I step off the ramp of the plane at the aeroport in Malta. Okay, someone’s here to meet me; that’s hardly unusual. But someone who calls me Beanie? I scan the faces of the crowd for one that’s familiar. Then I see Orlando. My face lights up with a grin I can’t restrain. It’s been too long.
“Orli!” I yell enthusiastically. He steps lightly over the barrier meant to keep the crowd back from the plane- Legolas’ feline movements have stuck with the boy- and runs towards me. A few security officials yell at him halfheartedly, but by that time I’ve dropped my things and he’s leapt into my arms. He hugs me tight, kissing my cheek and slapping my back with exuberance. Yeah, way too long.
“How’ve you been since I saw you, mate?” he asks, picking up my bags from where I dropped them. I wrestle him for the larger one, but he insists on carrying all of my stuff.
“I’ll get it! Anyway, how are you?”
“Hm,” I reply absently.
“That good, eh?” he teases, the worried look in his eyes belying his jest.
“Yeah,” I answer. He looks at me suspiciously. I shrug. “Really. What about you?”
“Oh, fine. I’ve had plenty of work to keep me busy. I missed you, Sean.” He looks right at me, and the effect is unnerving, like he’s staring directly into my brain. His voice and demeanour have changed from giddy to solemn in a matter of seconds. I turn away, unable to confront the seriousness in his face.
“I missed you, too,” I respond, putting it mildly. Very mildly. I turn back towards him, and when our eyes meet, I’m pinned to the spot by something I’m not sure I can explain. We stand there like overly lifelike statues for nearly a minute until something snaps us back to reality, namely the voice of the woman announcing flights over the loudspeaker system. Shaking my head, I turn around and head towards Baggage Claim to pick up my other suitcases. We take a cab over to the set.
******
“Here’s your trailer,” says Orlando. He gestures to the right. “There’s mine, the next one over. So I’ll be close by, anyway.” We go inside and set my things down just inside the door. He looks a bit uncomfortable with just hanging around.
“Right, well, if you need anything, you know where to find me,” he pronounces, walking towards the door. Something in me panics. I don’t want him to go just yet.
“Wait!” I cry. He’s already down the steps that lead up to the trailer. He turns back to look at me. I falter for a moment at the lost look in those big brown eyes the magazines are always touting as his best feature. Do I really want to involve myself in any way, shape, or form with one very vulnerable Orlando Bloom? The answer is probably no, particularly knowing what I know, but what do I know?
“Erm, do you want to stay? I could... er...” I trail off. I don’t have anything to offer him as enticement to stay. “Er, well, I haven’t unpacked anything yet, as you know, so... oh, forget it.” I’m about to go back inside when he stops me.
“That’s okay; I’ll stay anyway- that is, if it’s not too much of a bother. You probably want to unpack,” he finishes resignedly, something like hope shining doubtfully in his eyes. I shake my head, laughing at our ridiculous shared shyness.
“No, actually, what I want more than anything right now is for you to stay, and we can talk a while.” I somehow manage not to add a qualifying ‘if you’re up for it’ sort of deal. He looks at me a moment, then smiles broadly. Oh God, I’ve missed that smile.
“Me, too,” he says, chuckling, and follows me back into the trailer. We sit down on opposite sides of the sofa- the trailer is already furnished- grinning like idiots at one another. Then, for some reason, his eyes look suspiciously watery, and before I know it, I’m being faced with a crying Orlando. He’s still laughing, though. I’m feeling a bit choked up myself. Sitting here with him brings back so many memories.
“‘Tears, idle tears, I know not what they mean,’” I recite abstractedly, reaching out a hand to stroke his cheek. He beams at me.
“That’s Tennyson- ‘Tears, Idle Tears’. You’re quoting Tennyson at me. I don’t know why I never...” He stops, suddenly overcome with emotion. Now he’s crying in earnest, and I move closer to him so he can lay his head on my shoulder. I cradle him against me, stroking his back soothingly. I can only guess that he’s remembering things, too. Hugs that were a little over-friendly and far too lingering. Long nights spent just talking until the sun rose despite early calls. Moments where everything just seemed to freeze and we were the only two people anywhere in the world until one of us looked away and broke the spell. Now he’s repositioning himself, climbing into my lap and bracing his hands on my shoulders, gazing into my eyes sincerely, and every bit of stage fright I’ve never felt is welling up inside me, and I’m afraid I’m going to scream until he reassures me there’s nothing to be frightened of.
“Oh God, Sean,” he sighs wearily, a spark of jaded fatigue flashing in his eyes, not something I’m accustomed to associating with Orlando. “Why didn’t we ever tell each other...?” He doesn’t have to finish his question. It’s one I’ve always wanted to ask.
“I think we thought we were just being stupid to even think...” What the shit am I going on about? I try again, hoping for more coherency. “Or maybe we were too caught up in our own uncertainties,” I muse.
“If I tell you something now-... do you think it could make up for all of those other times when I wanted to say it so badly but didn’t have the guts to?” he asks, looking as scared as if I were about to skewer him with acupuncture needles.
“It could. And if I say it back?”
He smiles fondly. “I love you, Sean.”
My eyes go wide and my chest is constricted; I can’t breathe. There’s no way I could have prepared myself for the sudden force with which his admission hits me, no matter how much I was expecting it. Then I catch my breath again.
“Orlando.” I love the way his name rolls off my tongue, sliding like fresh, clean, cool summer linen against overheated skin. “I love you, too.” And suddenly he’s kissing me, just the way I’ve always wished he would, gently yet with a demanding edge that makes me moan somewhere in the back of my throat and manoeuvre us both so that he’s lying on the sofa and I’m stretched out on top of him.
“Sean,” he growls. He’s looking up at me with dark, lust-clouded eyes, Paris’ soft brown curls framing his face, and then he grinds his crotch up into mine and I’m hard as nails and my eyes are fluttering as I desperately try to keep them open. “Sean, I want-” But I know what he wants. I nod shortly and roll off him, reaching for my bag of essentials. There’s always a small bag of condoms and lube in there, thank God. I find it reasonably quickly, grabbing the little bottle and one foil-wrapped packet. I hold them up so Orlando can see.
“Yes? Is this what you want?” It wouldn’t do any good for him to be uncertain now. He nods hungrily and drops his gaze to my cock, which hardens measurably with one simple look from him. I groan and lose no time in getting his clothes off. The shirt goes quickly, but I’m almost tentative about pulling down his trousers and shorts. I do it reverently, lovingly, until he hisses at me to hurry up. When he’s finally lying there in the altogether, I suck in a breath. Christ, he’s fucking beautiful. I’d like to savour this moment, but Orlando’s having none of it.
“Fucking hurry up already, Bean!” he moans. “Get your clothes off and your cock inside me *now*.” I exhale sharply. I wouldn’t have expected him to be a dirty talker, but he’s good at it. I strip as rapidly as humanly possible and roll the condom on. I look at him, lying there on the couch, looking lethally sexy and thoroughly debauched, and I feel this wave of pure lust wash over me. Then I consider the logistics of the situation. If we try what I’ve got in mind on the sofa, someone’s going to be quite uncomfortable. If, however, we relocate our activities to the conveniently soft-carpeted floor... The possibilities are endless.
“Orli.”
“Yes?”
“Floor.”
“Yes.”
In a move worthy of his blond Elven alter-ego, Orlando leaps off the couch and comes flying at me, knocking my legs out from under me so I fall to the floor along with him. Then he pounces, straddling my hips and pinning my wrists above my head. He leans down and kisses me again, and I feel like I’m going up in smoke. When he pauses to catch his breath and simultaneously grinds his arse down on my aching cock, I let out a low, throaty moan and use all of my strength to roll us over so that I’m sitting on my knees between his parted thighs. He grins.
“Okay?” He nods. I pour some lube onto a few fingers and drop one down between the cheeks of his arse, sliding it into him slowly and gently. His eyes go huge, but he hasn’t asked me to stop, so I keep pushing it in, wiggling it a bit until I find the raised mound of nerves and stroke it hard enough to make him groan. I use his moment of ecstasy to cancel out the pain of a second finger joining the first. I hold still for a moment and then begin to scissor my fingers slightly, stretching him.
”Unnnh,” he moans, tossing his head from side to side. His back arches and he shoves his hips down, apparently attempting to impale himself on my fingers. I add a third, just to be safe, and move them around a bit before drawing back. Orlando gives a keening wail when he finds himself so empty, but I slick myself up quickly and lift his hips, encouraging him to wrap those long lean legs around my waist. I raise my eyebrows questioningly, but he only whines in response and I know he’s ready. I push in slowly- there’s no way I’m taking any chances- but he digs his heels into my lower back to pull me closer more rapidly.
“Christ, Orlando, you’re so fucking tight,” I manage to grind out hoarsely, still maintaining a few shards of control.
“You’re so fucking big, Sean,” he answers, and my eyelids flutter shut for a second as I struggle not to implode or spontaneously combust or something from the combined heat of his body and his words. But I open my eyes again, willing them not to close, as I push in the rest of the way and change my angle to hit his prostate head-on. The look on his face, one of pure rapture, is well worth the effort of keeping my eyes open, and the long, low moan he lets out finally provides me with the incentive I needed to abandon myself to the pent-up lust I’ve harboured so long for the boy, and I draw out, only to slam back into him. He screams his pleasure and I take care to repeat the action he relishes so much over and over until my breathing is ragged and he’s thrashing wildly beneath me. I reach between us and take hold of his neglected erection, stroking it vigourously in time with my thrusts.
I lean down so that my mouth is close to his ear. “I want you to come for me, Orlando,” I growl, and it’s enough to send him into orgasm. As he flies over the edge, taking me with him, we shout our mutual exaltation.
“I love you, Orlando.” Just to make sure he knows it.
“I love you, too, Sean.”
******
Lying there on the floor with Orlando, one of my best mates and the love of my life, after the hottest sex I’ve ever had, I smile. I think he’ll stay for a while.