Improv Fic: "Oasis" (sequel to "Memory") Lotrips KU/OB
Title: "Oasis" (Sequel to “Memory”)
Author: Brenda
Pairing: Karl Urban/Orlando Bloom (Karl Urban/Viggo Mortensen)
Rating: R
Summary: Don’t think.
Website: The Rolling Smut Factory
http://www.lionessandviper.com/rpsindex.html
Feedback: Always
Disclaimer: *Still* never happened.
Notes: Contralamontre challenge. 45 minutes, first line consisting of “even watching him feels like being a voyeur.” Written in 26. And dude, I have *no* fucking clue where this trippy-assed shit came from. I’d blame James Joyce, but he’s probably rolling in his grave at the thought.
“Pure intention juxtaposed
Will set two lovers souls in motion”
--Tool
Even *watching* him-them--heads so close, sharing body space don’tthinkdon’tthink about it, don’t think--felt like being a voyeur.
Study in contrasts. Fair and dark. Complementary. *No*. Don’t think, don’tthink. Keep it together, Orli, don’t let your eyes stray to Viggo’s hands circling Karl’s waist, to Karl’s head on Viggo’s shoulder. Don’t think, don’t remember Karl’s hand, heavy, warm, welcome on your skin, hot breath mingling with yours.
Don’t think.
“Orli, man. You’re a million miles away.”
Orli managed a bright smile, tugged Lij’s pliant, small frame into his arms. Needed the contact with someone, some*thing*. Wouldn’t peer over Lij’s shoulder, wouldn’t catch a glimpse of a grey suit and long fingers running impatiently through dark hair as Karl talked to some reporter, Viggo just a step behind him, fingers trailing across Karl’s back. So *fucking* in tune...
“C’mon, our public awaits.”
Lij tugged Orli along the carpet, and they answered questions--yes, questions were good, questions would keep his brain occupied, keep him moving. Joked and laughed--good, distract the brain. Don’t think. The distraction worked, too, worked pretty fucking well. So well that, when strong arms circled his waist and lips nuzzled his ear, he made a small joke about it before turning.
Lost his breath...snaredtrappedcouldn’tlookaway.
“Looking good, love,” Karl said, tugging Orli forward, kissing his cheek.
Heat, hot, dying, so long, not long enough, don’t *think* about the hands moving slowly, possessively across your hips, warm breath on your neck, solid chest against yours, senses inundated with memory and pleaseKarlplease.
“Karl...” Breathless, his voice was too breathless, but he couldn’t stop, couldn’t lessen his body’s reaction. Instantly hard, hands curving comfortably around Karl’s hips as if they’d never left, lookingdrowningsinking into Karl’s eyes. Gazing at full lips, needwant*don’t*think about the lips, about how perfect they used to feel, how gentle and bold and yes and everything they needed to be.
“Let’s talk for a minute.” Karl’s hand enclosed his, and Orli allowed himself to be tugged inside. Past friends and acquaintances, Dom’s curious look, Lij’s concerned one, don’t think, just follow. Heart pounding, breath harsh, fast. Calmdowncalm--
Down.
Shouldn’t react this way, it’s over, he doesn’t want you, he’s got Viggo and...
*Fuck*.
The doorknob dug into Orli’s hip where Karl shoved him against it. Didn’t matter. Nothing mattered except Karl’s mouth, tongue plundering his, body pressing him deep into unforgiving wood, hands clenching together, then scrambling. Rip of clothing, seeking heat and skin and yespleaseKarldon’tstop, feels so--“Missed you”--didn’t know who said it, didn’t matter. Just dive back into that mouth, that body, rediscover, remember. Fingers sought, quested, found that perfect rhythm, heart now pounding for a different reason, swallowing his moan, lips in a glorious tangle and
“YespleasemoreKarlOrli”
Soft murmurs, soothing lips, slow kisses. Coming down in sweet waves, contentment pouring out and yes. This is the way it should be.
Orli burrowed into Karl’s warmth, ignored rumpled clothing, inhaled deeply. Too many questions, thoughts, what ifs and what abouts. But he didn’t want to think.
“We’ll be missed in a minute,” Karl said, voice a low rumble next to Orli’s ear. He didn’t move, however; just rested a hand in Orli’s hair, petting soft curls.
“I know.”
“Orli, I--”
No, pleaseplease don’t. Orli looked up, eyed beseeching, didn’t want to know, wanted to stave off reality, block the world outside the door. Just a few more minutes, please.
“Alright.” Karl put Orli’s head back on his shoulder, rubbed through Orli’s curls again. “We’ll talk later.”
Much later. When Orli could breathe, could think, could look at Karl without choking on want and need, could look at Viggo and see only friendship.
* * *
Author: Brenda
Pairing: Karl Urban/Orlando Bloom (Karl Urban/Viggo Mortensen)
Rating: R
Summary: Don’t think.
Website: The Rolling Smut Factory
http://www.lionessandviper.com/rpsindex.html
Feedback: Always
Disclaimer: *Still* never happened.
Notes: Contralamontre challenge. 45 minutes, first line consisting of “even watching him feels like being a voyeur.” Written in 26. And dude, I have *no* fucking clue where this trippy-assed shit came from. I’d blame James Joyce, but he’s probably rolling in his grave at the thought.
“Pure intention juxtaposed
Will set two lovers souls in motion”
--Tool
Even *watching* him-them--heads so close, sharing body space don’tthinkdon’tthink about it, don’t think--felt like being a voyeur.
Study in contrasts. Fair and dark. Complementary. *No*. Don’t think, don’tthink. Keep it together, Orli, don’t let your eyes stray to Viggo’s hands circling Karl’s waist, to Karl’s head on Viggo’s shoulder. Don’t think, don’t remember Karl’s hand, heavy, warm, welcome on your skin, hot breath mingling with yours.
Don’t think.
“Orli, man. You’re a million miles away.”
Orli managed a bright smile, tugged Lij’s pliant, small frame into his arms. Needed the contact with someone, some*thing*. Wouldn’t peer over Lij’s shoulder, wouldn’t catch a glimpse of a grey suit and long fingers running impatiently through dark hair as Karl talked to some reporter, Viggo just a step behind him, fingers trailing across Karl’s back. So *fucking* in tune...
“C’mon, our public awaits.”
Lij tugged Orli along the carpet, and they answered questions--yes, questions were good, questions would keep his brain occupied, keep him moving. Joked and laughed--good, distract the brain. Don’t think. The distraction worked, too, worked pretty fucking well. So well that, when strong arms circled his waist and lips nuzzled his ear, he made a small joke about it before turning.
Lost his breath...snaredtrappedcouldn’tlookaway.
“Looking good, love,” Karl said, tugging Orli forward, kissing his cheek.
Heat, hot, dying, so long, not long enough, don’t *think* about the hands moving slowly, possessively across your hips, warm breath on your neck, solid chest against yours, senses inundated with memory and pleaseKarlplease.
“Karl...” Breathless, his voice was too breathless, but he couldn’t stop, couldn’t lessen his body’s reaction. Instantly hard, hands curving comfortably around Karl’s hips as if they’d never left, lookingdrowningsinking into Karl’s eyes. Gazing at full lips, needwant*don’t*think about the lips, about how perfect they used to feel, how gentle and bold and yes and everything they needed to be.
“Let’s talk for a minute.” Karl’s hand enclosed his, and Orli allowed himself to be tugged inside. Past friends and acquaintances, Dom’s curious look, Lij’s concerned one, don’t think, just follow. Heart pounding, breath harsh, fast. Calmdowncalm--
Down.
Shouldn’t react this way, it’s over, he doesn’t want you, he’s got Viggo and...
*Fuck*.
The doorknob dug into Orli’s hip where Karl shoved him against it. Didn’t matter. Nothing mattered except Karl’s mouth, tongue plundering his, body pressing him deep into unforgiving wood, hands clenching together, then scrambling. Rip of clothing, seeking heat and skin and yespleaseKarldon’tstop, feels so--“Missed you”--didn’t know who said it, didn’t matter. Just dive back into that mouth, that body, rediscover, remember. Fingers sought, quested, found that perfect rhythm, heart now pounding for a different reason, swallowing his moan, lips in a glorious tangle and
“YespleasemoreKarlOrli”
Soft murmurs, soothing lips, slow kisses. Coming down in sweet waves, contentment pouring out and yes. This is the way it should be.
Orli burrowed into Karl’s warmth, ignored rumpled clothing, inhaled deeply. Too many questions, thoughts, what ifs and what abouts. But he didn’t want to think.
“We’ll be missed in a minute,” Karl said, voice a low rumble next to Orli’s ear. He didn’t move, however; just rested a hand in Orli’s hair, petting soft curls.
“I know.”
“Orli, I--”
No, pleaseplease don’t. Orli looked up, eyed beseeching, didn’t want to know, wanted to stave off reality, block the world outside the door. Just a few more minutes, please.
“Alright.” Karl put Orli’s head back on his shoulder, rubbed through Orli’s curls again. “We’ll talk later.”
Much later. When Orli could breathe, could think, could look at Karl without choking on want and need, could look at Viggo and see only friendship.
* * *