Stopped, LOTRPS, KU/OB, PG
Gah! Am idiot. Posted with comments disabled. Fixed now. Must hope brain is properly in gear tomorrow, or work will be v. bad.
So I posted this, to start, in the wrong journal; not that I wouldn't have put it in my own journal eventually, but yeah; and then my internet connection was all "Bleaarrrgh!" and not letting me back on. So it's late, I think, but I swear I really did write it on time.
This was my third attempt to write this challenge; the first two were getting hideously schmoopy. My idea of realistic dialogue is a little Mamet by way of My So-Called Life, because that's, well, um, how I-- I speak. :-)
Title: Stopped
Author: bexone (terriergrl_2000@hotmail.com)
Rating: PG
Pairing: Karl/Orli
Summary: In which not everything goes quite to plan.
Disclaimer: Real people, fictional situations. 'Nuff said.
Notes: Written in around 40 minutes for the contrelamontre challenge from 5-jan-2003: write a story with realistic speech, and including the snippet:
"Want you."
S/he laughed airily. "Doesn't anyone say 'please' anymore?"
This is actually a sequel to "Spinning," from a few weeks ago.
The plan had gone something like this: retrieve the bike. return home, maybe have a bit of a wank in the shower, and spend a lazy Sunday afternoon watching telly. Steps one and two went off without a hitch, until Karl opened the door of his apartment to find --
Orlando.
Still there.
Still (or was it again?) on his knees in front of the toilet.
Only this time, he had a scrub brush in hand, and appeared to be --
Cleaning.
"Oh!" Orli blushed a delicate pink, Karl noticed, and it stained only his cheeks and the tips of his ears, rather like a girl. "The- the mess, I thought I should--" he shrugged. "You know. Clean." He had; the recliner was back in its former position, the blanket neatly folded and stacked with the pillow on the sofa.
"You didn't--"
"I'm sorry--" they both stopped. Karl waved for Orli to speak.
"Your floor. You- it needs- I mean, um." He swallowed. "Refinishing." There were wide scratches where the chair's casters had gouged the wood.
"I know." It actually wasn't as bad as Karl expected.
"Anyway." Orlando sighed. "I wanted to- to thank you. Again. For last night. And I'm sorry. Um, again." Karl realized he was still standing in the doorway; shutting it gave him a chance to collect his thoughts.
"Don't worry about it," he said finally. "The floor was--"
"Not that." Orlando squirmed. "Last night, at the club, I- I--" the blush flamed brighter this time, now a deep rose. "I remember most- well, some of it. And I, um, I, you didn't, you know. Say anything."
Ah. Karl studied the boy for a long moment. "You should be careful, you know. You might give people, uh," he had to clear his throat. "The wrong idea."
"But, it's- it's not--" Orli broke off. "I mean, I do--"
"Do what?" It took a long time for Orli to answer.
"Want you."
He laughed airily. "Doesn't anyone say please anymore?" The words slipped out before he could stop them, and he shut his eyes, feeling intensely stupid.
"Um, Karl?" The voice was close. When Karl opened his eyes again, they met Orlando's. Clear, dark, and inviting. "Please?"
"I, uh--" Karl's mouth was suddenly dry, his mouth little more than a whisper. "I--"
"Just- just say--"
"Yes."
So I posted this, to start, in the wrong journal; not that I wouldn't have put it in my own journal eventually, but yeah; and then my internet connection was all "Bleaarrrgh!" and not letting me back on. So it's late, I think, but I swear I really did write it on time.
This was my third attempt to write this challenge; the first two were getting hideously schmoopy. My idea of realistic dialogue is a little Mamet by way of My So-Called Life, because that's, well, um, how I-- I speak. :-)
Title: Stopped
Author: bexone (terriergrl_2000@hotmail.com)
Rating: PG
Pairing: Karl/Orli
Summary: In which not everything goes quite to plan.
Disclaimer: Real people, fictional situations. 'Nuff said.
Notes: Written in around 40 minutes for the contrelamontre challenge from 5-jan-2003: write a story with realistic speech, and including the snippet:
"Want you."
S/he laughed airily. "Doesn't anyone say 'please' anymore?"
This is actually a sequel to "Spinning," from a few weeks ago.
The plan had gone something like this: retrieve the bike. return home, maybe have a bit of a wank in the shower, and spend a lazy Sunday afternoon watching telly. Steps one and two went off without a hitch, until Karl opened the door of his apartment to find --
Orlando.
Still there.
Still (or was it again?) on his knees in front of the toilet.
Only this time, he had a scrub brush in hand, and appeared to be --
Cleaning.
"Oh!" Orli blushed a delicate pink, Karl noticed, and it stained only his cheeks and the tips of his ears, rather like a girl. "The- the mess, I thought I should--" he shrugged. "You know. Clean." He had; the recliner was back in its former position, the blanket neatly folded and stacked with the pillow on the sofa.
"You didn't--"
"I'm sorry--" they both stopped. Karl waved for Orli to speak.
"Your floor. You- it needs- I mean, um." He swallowed. "Refinishing." There were wide scratches where the chair's casters had gouged the wood.
"I know." It actually wasn't as bad as Karl expected.
"Anyway." Orlando sighed. "I wanted to- to thank you. Again. For last night. And I'm sorry. Um, again." Karl realized he was still standing in the doorway; shutting it gave him a chance to collect his thoughts.
"Don't worry about it," he said finally. "The floor was--"
"Not that." Orlando squirmed. "Last night, at the club, I- I--" the blush flamed brighter this time, now a deep rose. "I remember most- well, some of it. And I, um, I, you didn't, you know. Say anything."
Ah. Karl studied the boy for a long moment. "You should be careful, you know. You might give people, uh," he had to clear his throat. "The wrong idea."
"But, it's- it's not--" Orli broke off. "I mean, I do--"
"Do what?" It took a long time for Orli to answer.
"Want you."
He laughed airily. "Doesn't anyone say please anymore?" The words slipped out before he could stop them, and he shut his eyes, feeling intensely stupid.
"Um, Karl?" The voice was close. When Karl opened his eyes again, they met Orlando's. Clear, dark, and inviting. "Please?"
"I, uh--" Karl's mouth was suddenly dry, his mouth little more than a whisper. "I--"
"Just- just say--"
"Yes."