Sin's Bloom: Harry Sinclair / Orlando Bloom - Chapter 6
Title: Sin's Bloom
Pairing: Harry Sinclair (written by the fabulous lunasv)/ Orlando Bloom (written by deleerium)
Type: LOTR RPS
Rating: R
Summary: There's a first time for everything, especially at a fellowship party.
Previous Chapters: Chapter 1, Chapter 2, Chapter 3, Chapter 4, Chapter 5
Orlando fidgets from his perch on the chair in the corner of Viggo's living room, beer bottle passing from one hand to another, swinging his foot. He looks up when Viggo wraps a hand around his bare foot, holding it still.
"What's wrong?" Viggo's gaze at its usual intensity.
"Nothing." Orlando's grin is quick and not all there. He nudges Viggo's hand with his toes and pull it free, standing abruptly. "I need another beer." He brushes past members of cast and crew, saying hi only when he's directly addressed. Last week had been just the fellowship crashing Viggo's peaceful Sunday afternoon. But today, Viggo has actually issued invitations. To everyone.
Which means Harry might, or might not, show up. Orlando rummages in the fridge for another beer, twisting the cap off and taking a swig before he's closed the door.
They haven't really talked about it, the whole being in public thing. On set is easy, they're both busy and rarely run across one another. But this is a party, with friends. And Orlando hasn't actually mentioned to anyone that he's...seeing? Harry. "I'm such a git,” he mutters and kicks the fridge shut.
+
"You need to get out, Harry, have some fun." Karl's at his side, Marton at his back, their voices blending as they usher Harry into Viggo's house. "Enjoy yourself."
"My life's fine," Harry mutters, still uncertain this is the best idea. He knows the cast, pretty much all the crew, and he's content with their on-set relationship. There's no reason to socialize off-set since he doesn't want to know any of the Rings folks outside the New Zealand crowd. Well, except for Orlando. He looks around the living room, doesn't see the young man, sucks in a breath of relief. At least, he tells himself it's relief.
"Yeah, well, it'll be better with a beer," Marton says, nudging Harry into the room. "You find a seat, I'll get three."
+
"Why are you hiding in here?"
Orlando turns at the voice, relieved to see it's Elijah coming in from a smoke. "I'm not hiding." He holds up the bottle. "Just getting a beer."
Elijah brushes past Orlando and rummages in the fridge for one of his own. "I heard more people drive up." He snags Orlando's hand and pulls him towards the door to the living room. "C'mon."
Orlando goes reluctantly, dragging as they get to the door, then nearly run over by Marton coming in. "Oy, sorry." Apologizing for both of them.
"S'okay," Marton says, sidestepping the collision. "You leave any beer? We came thirsty."
“There's still plenty," Orlando says, as Elijah pulls him through the door. He shakes off Elijah's hand. "I'm in, I'm in, okay?"
“Good. There's Dom and Bills.” Elijah heads their way, abandoning Orlando by the door.
“Git.” Orlando takes another swig of beer as he looks around the room, pausing when he spies Harry across the crowded room, sitting in the chair he'd abandoned earlier. His reaction is instinctive, the smile lighting up his face. He takes a step forward, then stops cold, pretty sure bounding across the room to snog a secret lover isn't the best idea he's ever had. Get a grip, Bloom. Stranded in the center of the room, he contents himself with sipping his beer and tries not to be too obvious about staring.
Marton's back out of the kitchen in a flash, fingers gripping three bottles and nudging past Orlando to where Harry and Karl have settled, only to be intercepted by Craig, who flounces himself in Harry's lap.
"Yay, they kidnapped you," Craig says as Harry makes a noise, shifting under the extra weight. "Told them you needed to come out to play."
Harry reaches up to take his beer. "So you did," he mutters, Marton stepping aside so his view is clear. Straight to Orlando. Fortunately, Craig's squirming too much to notice Harry's body reacting. He swigs his beer. "You're heavy, Craig. Settle or get off."
Orlando's smile fades and his gaze narrows. This must be how Baby Bear felt about that bitch Goldilocks. The green wash of jealousy isn't at all familiar. The power of it keeps him frozen until he feels a body at his back, hands cupping his shoulders, the scent of earth and turpentine tickling his nose. Vig.
"You don't look happy," Viggo says, a whisper against his ear, following the direction of Orlando's stare.
"Unhappy doesn't begin to touch it." Orlando flushes when he notices that Harry is looking right at him.
Viggo wraps his arms around Orlando's shoulders and gives him a squeeze. "You know, we as humans have the capacity to give our love to many people." His voice pitched low. "Jealousy is really just a sophomoric emotion."
"Yeah, well, then I'm a freshman. Here, hold this." He hands Viggo his beer and makes a beeline across the room to Harry.
+
"You used to like me squirming," Craig pouts, laying his head on Harry's shoulder, feet over the chair's arm.
Harry's half-listening to Craig, mostly watching Orlando, and he frowns on seeing Viggo's touches. He shouldn't be jealous, doesn't think he has a reason. After all, Viggo's no younger than him, no closer to Orlando's age. "I did. Don't now," he mutters, "so stop." He's still staring at Orlando when the young man moves away from Viggo.
So is Karl. "Incoming elf," he says, sitting on the floor at Harry's leg. "Think he and Mr. Perfect had a falling out."
"Oh, pish," Craig says, "I'll go play with Marton if you're going to be that way."
Orlando's waylaid by a gaggle of hobbits not three feet from Harry and his group. "Not now guys."
"Oh, don't be a grump." Dom loops an arm around his neck, Billy sandwiches him on the other side, Elijah standing in the middle.
"I think he just needs a good snoggin'," Billy says, his grin mischievous.
Orlando frowns. "Seriously, not now." But it's like being tag teamed by dwarves. Dom plants the first one square on his mouth. "Domph..." Billy's next, "Guys, serrsssmm..." Then Lij, more enthusiasm than talent, as per usual. Orlando's cheeks are pink by the time he shakes them all off, pushing them in the general direction of the kitchen. "Get. Off."
"Told you it wouldn't help," Elijah says. “Grouch.”
"Maybe he wants someone else to do the snogging?" Dom follows the other two into the kitchen, the door swinging shut behind them.
"Christ." Orlando runs a hand through his hair and tugs his mangled sweater back down over the waistband of his jeans, finally looking up into four pairs of staring eyes. The blush returns. "Karl. Marton." His voice neutral. "Harry." Not knowing how soft the name gets around the edges when he says it. "Craig." Trying not to grit his teeth.
Craig's moving off Harry's lap, nearly kicking Karl in the head as he maneuvers onto the floor and wedges himself between Marton's spread knees. "Orli," he says, oblivious to any emotion Orlando's displaying.
"Hi, pull up a piece of floor," Karl says, nodding, "or a lap," leaning back against Harry's knee. "Trade one elf for another, Harry?"
Harry smiles. "Sure," he says, as nonchalant as he can. It's a way to touch Orlando without too much public fuss. "If he thinks he can be still."
Orlando shrugs both shoulders. "Sure." Struggling to match Harry's air of nonchalance as he slides over the arm of the chair and into Harry's lap. The green monster vanishes and Orlando relaxes, curling up in a space he fits perfectly. "I didn't know if you'd be here," he murmurs, pitching his voice for Harry's ears only.
Harry settles more easily with Orlando in his lap. "Thank my friends," he says, voice just as low. "They think I stay at the house too much." He has one hand draped casually over Orlando's hip, a favorite spot, and the other holding his beer. "How have you been? Busy, I know."
Orlando's warm everywhere Harry touches. "Yeah, bit busy." Missing you. The four days since he was last over at the house on the beach feels like much longer. "Helm's Deep is looming, so I'm in fight rehearsals more than I sleep." Calloused fingers rub one of the buttons on Harry's shirt, slowly unfastening and refastening it again. "How about you? Put any cannibalistic Orcs in front of the camera lately?"
"Helm's Deep, yeah, been having to listen to Peter go on about it. He's intent on making it perfect," Harry says, not missing the movement of Orlando's fingers. "I'll have you know, Orcs love me."
"Mmhm," Orlando looks up and meets Harry's gaze. "Elves too."
"Harry, you deaf?"
Harry's been tuning out the world, but Karl's voice cuts through. Or it might be the insistent beating on his leg. "What?"
"You want another beer?" Karl looks askew, tilting his head back, resting on Orlando and Harry. "I'm gonna brave the hobbit hoard and hit the kitchen."
"Yeah, another one." Harry laughs at the notion of fighting the hobbits for beer. "Bring back some food, too, if there is any. You want anything, Orlando?" It's an innocent question, but oh so open-ended.
Orlando glances up at Karl. "Please. Lots of food. Cold beer." He looks back at Harry. "And a decent snog. Elijah doesn't kiss worth crap."
"I heard that!"
Orlando shoots the bird over his shoulder in the general direction of the kitchen.
Harry watches Karl move away, laughs when he hears his friend's voice from the kitchen.
"So, what's this I hear? You need snogging lessons?"
"You need a kiss, Orlando?" Harry says, making it sound as if they've never done that, never been this close. "I suppose, in the interest of education, I could show you what a decent snog is."
Orlando pretends to consider. "I think I could definitely benefit from a demonstration, given someone with sufficient expertise,” he says, miraculously avoiding a blush.
"I think I qualify," Harry says, not realizing his voice isn't as soft as before.
"Let's do spin the bottle." It's Craig, nearly bouncing on Marton's leg. "Harry's a good kisser."
Harry frowns. "Craig, why don't you go back to kissing Marton and leave me alone."
"I'm not sure I'm willing to take Craig's word that you're a good kisser." The corner of Orlando's mouth twitches. "Who else would vouch for you as an experienced snogging instructor?"
"Uh, in this room? Marton," Harry says, falling into Orlando's mischievous game.
"I don't know, Harry," Marton interjects, "I never got the full-on Sinclair snog. I think you have to ask Karl for proof."
"Ask me what?" Karl settles back onto the floor after placing his load of goodies on the table, passing Harry his beer.
Craig reaches for a handful of munchies, stuffs them into his mouth. "Orlando wants to know if Harry's a good kisser. I said we should play spin the bottle."
Karl laughs. "One of the best, kid." He shakes his head at Craig. "You just want to get laid."
"Are you really?" Orlando asks Harry, then chokes with laughter at Harry's expression. He pats him lightly on the shoulder. "I guess if Karl thinks you're good, that'll have to do."
"I haven't had any complaints, Orlando." Harry makes the name sound like an angel's, though he knows there's a good bit of fallen angel in his lover. Lover. He hasn't really thought of Orlando that way, until now. He tilts his head, leans in and kisses him, ignoring the applause and catcalls from his friends. It's as chaste as the first kiss they shared, over before it can go too far.
Orlando tugs on Harry's shirt button, a small hum of contentment escaping his throat. His smile Cheshire wide, he cranes his head back to look at Karl. "Definitely one of the best."
"Told you," Karl says, staring at them. "Watch out, Orli, he's addictive, gets in your blood."
Harry kicks Karl's leg. "Shush, you. Don't frighten the boy."
"Yes, Sir. Sorry, Sir," Karl teases, leaning into the cushion made by Orlando's leg crossing Harry's.
"Too late," Orlando murmurs and drops his head against Harry's shoulder, not caring who's looking anymore. "I'm a gonner." After a few seconds, his brow furrows and he lifts his head again. "I do have one question, though. Why does he keep calling you sir?"
"Because he is," Karl mutters.
"Karl, go torment a hobbit," Harry says softly, his voice taking on a tone that implies command rather than suggestion. He shifts under Orlando's weight, pulling him closer. "It's complicated, Orlando, and I'll explain, but here maybe isn't the best place. Next time we're somewhere quiet."
Orlando nods, obeying the pull of Harry's hands as he's tucked closer. He finds warm skin under the shirt button and leans in a little, mouth just under Harry's ear, and whispers something else he'd like to do, the next time they're somewhere quiet.
Harry smiles, a wistful turned up corner of lip, wishing everyone in the room would disappear. He's not even thinking of the questions he'll get from Karl later, or what anyone's thinking. His focus is solely on Orlando and how much more he wants from the young man in his lap. "Just ask Viggo if we can use his bedroom," he teases, kissing Orlando again, just as chaste as the first.
This time Orlando blushes from neck to hair, making a soft, gurgling kind of sound. He blinks owlishly at Harry, then without hesitation, winds an arm around his neck and pulls him down for a properly thorough kiss. He licks his lips as he pulls back. "Viggo has a thing about his bedroom being sacred. But this is a big house." Orlando tumbles from Harry's lap, and turns, leaning over Karl and Harry and the chair, hands braced against the back, mouth just in front of Harry's. "So if you closed your eyes and counted to ten, I bet you'd be able to find me." He licks Harry's lower lip and disappears into the crowd.
"Guess I'm not taking you home," Karl murmurs, watching Orlando disappear.
Harry pushes forward on the chair, rubs a hand through Karl's hair and pulls his head back. "Don't assume, Karl," he says, leaning down and kissing Karl, almost as chaste as he had Orlando. "And get us more beer." He moves off, uncertain of where Orlando's headed, but knowing the house isn't that large. He maneuvers the crowd, finds what he seeks in the hallway. "Is this the line for bathroom?"
"It's a line for something," Orlando murmurs, leaning back against the wall. He hooks a finger in Harry's shirt and tugs lightly, pulling him into the guest room and shutting the door.
There's a moment where nerves battle bravery and somewhere a shocked, speechless version of the Orlando from two weeks ago is trying to crawl under the bed. But this Orlando crowds Harry against the door and presses him against it, mouth skipping right to his throat as his fingers flick open buttons in a steady line. He follows each new section of skin with his mouth, testing his teeth against it, until he's on his knees, his hands hovering over Harry's jeans as he looks up. "I want to suck you."
"You do? Couldn't tell. Not obvious at all." Harry touches Orlando's head, rubs his fingers over the short hair. He shouldn't. It's just too risky. Anyone could catch them. What are you afraid of? Them knowing? "Okay," he whispers.
Orlando abandons teasing tricks and opts for yanking open Harry's jeans. He draws a short breath before swallowing him whole, hand cupping the weight of Harry's balls as he sucks him between sharp teeth to the back of his throat. Starving for a taste.
"Hell." Orlando's abruptness takes Harry by surprise, has him gripping Orlando's shoulder, clutching to keep upright. "Damn you're greedy. Must've gotten you worked up with all that cuddling."
Orlando moans agreement, spreading his knees wide as he wraps his arms around Harry's hips and swallows, hits a gag reflex and swallows past it again, urging Harry deeper with his tugs. Needing more, needing something, and not sure how to make it known.
"Don't try talking, Orlando. Just suck." There's an edge in Harry's voice, that darker side of him sliding into control. He digs his nails into Orlando's shirt, creasing into flesh as the orgasm rolls into place. "Yeah, you got me worked up, wanted to fuck you right there in front of everyone."
The blunt words, the sharp control of Harry's hand, the way his body reacts to something they haven't even done -- all of it -- Orlando moans again, compliant, the secret, frozen places inside thawed. Melting. His sucking gets slower, rougher, more confident, listening to Harry tell him what to do, what they did, and what it made him want.
Don't. Hold back. He doesn't understand. Harry's desire wages war with his common sense, not that it's much of a contest. Desire has the edge, Harry so far gone he's focusing on nothing else. He slides his other hand behind Orlando, rubbing his fingers over his neck, holding him steady. "Swallow," he mutters, letting go, coming with little more warning than that.
Orlando's been expecting it, but not so soon or so hard, his throat filling before he's ready. In the past he would have sputtered and swallowed only enough to pull back for an incredulous "fucking hell," but it's Harry. And there's more of him tied up in Harry than a quick blowjob in a spare room. So much more that it's Harry first, and what Harry wants before the problem of an unexpected throat full of come.
He still sputters and come dribbles down his chin, but his cock bucks under his jeans, smearing the denim and his arms tighten around Harry's hips. He works his throat to swallow once, then again, until there's no more left to suck. He pulls off and looks up, dazed, his tongue sweeping under his lip for what he missed.
Harry's speechless, a rarity, especially after sex. Orlando had already worked his way into Harry's mind, and was well on his way to captivating Harry's heart. The look on Orlando's face drives him over the edge. He slides his hand back through Orlando's hair and down his face, wiping off the dribbles. Wish I could take you back out there, show everyone.
"We should get back," Harry whispers, after a few minutes.
"Yeah," Orlando climbs unsteadily to his feet, his dazed expression gradually overtaken by a shy smile. He kisses Harry - just as chaste as the first time. "Before we're missed."
Go to Chapter 7
Pairing: Harry Sinclair (written by the fabulous lunasv)/ Orlando Bloom (written by deleerium)
Type: LOTR RPS
Rating: R
Summary: There's a first time for everything, especially at a fellowship party.
Previous Chapters: Chapter 1, Chapter 2, Chapter 3, Chapter 4, Chapter 5
Orlando fidgets from his perch on the chair in the corner of Viggo's living room, beer bottle passing from one hand to another, swinging his foot. He looks up when Viggo wraps a hand around his bare foot, holding it still.
"What's wrong?" Viggo's gaze at its usual intensity.
"Nothing." Orlando's grin is quick and not all there. He nudges Viggo's hand with his toes and pull it free, standing abruptly. "I need another beer." He brushes past members of cast and crew, saying hi only when he's directly addressed. Last week had been just the fellowship crashing Viggo's peaceful Sunday afternoon. But today, Viggo has actually issued invitations. To everyone.
Which means Harry might, or might not, show up. Orlando rummages in the fridge for another beer, twisting the cap off and taking a swig before he's closed the door.
They haven't really talked about it, the whole being in public thing. On set is easy, they're both busy and rarely run across one another. But this is a party, with friends. And Orlando hasn't actually mentioned to anyone that he's...seeing? Harry. "I'm such a git,” he mutters and kicks the fridge shut.
+
"You need to get out, Harry, have some fun." Karl's at his side, Marton at his back, their voices blending as they usher Harry into Viggo's house. "Enjoy yourself."
"My life's fine," Harry mutters, still uncertain this is the best idea. He knows the cast, pretty much all the crew, and he's content with their on-set relationship. There's no reason to socialize off-set since he doesn't want to know any of the Rings folks outside the New Zealand crowd. Well, except for Orlando. He looks around the living room, doesn't see the young man, sucks in a breath of relief. At least, he tells himself it's relief.
"Yeah, well, it'll be better with a beer," Marton says, nudging Harry into the room. "You find a seat, I'll get three."
+
"Why are you hiding in here?"
Orlando turns at the voice, relieved to see it's Elijah coming in from a smoke. "I'm not hiding." He holds up the bottle. "Just getting a beer."
Elijah brushes past Orlando and rummages in the fridge for one of his own. "I heard more people drive up." He snags Orlando's hand and pulls him towards the door to the living room. "C'mon."
Orlando goes reluctantly, dragging as they get to the door, then nearly run over by Marton coming in. "Oy, sorry." Apologizing for both of them.
"S'okay," Marton says, sidestepping the collision. "You leave any beer? We came thirsty."
“There's still plenty," Orlando says, as Elijah pulls him through the door. He shakes off Elijah's hand. "I'm in, I'm in, okay?"
“Good. There's Dom and Bills.” Elijah heads their way, abandoning Orlando by the door.
“Git.” Orlando takes another swig of beer as he looks around the room, pausing when he spies Harry across the crowded room, sitting in the chair he'd abandoned earlier. His reaction is instinctive, the smile lighting up his face. He takes a step forward, then stops cold, pretty sure bounding across the room to snog a secret lover isn't the best idea he's ever had. Get a grip, Bloom. Stranded in the center of the room, he contents himself with sipping his beer and tries not to be too obvious about staring.
Marton's back out of the kitchen in a flash, fingers gripping three bottles and nudging past Orlando to where Harry and Karl have settled, only to be intercepted by Craig, who flounces himself in Harry's lap.
"Yay, they kidnapped you," Craig says as Harry makes a noise, shifting under the extra weight. "Told them you needed to come out to play."
Harry reaches up to take his beer. "So you did," he mutters, Marton stepping aside so his view is clear. Straight to Orlando. Fortunately, Craig's squirming too much to notice Harry's body reacting. He swigs his beer. "You're heavy, Craig. Settle or get off."
Orlando's smile fades and his gaze narrows. This must be how Baby Bear felt about that bitch Goldilocks. The green wash of jealousy isn't at all familiar. The power of it keeps him frozen until he feels a body at his back, hands cupping his shoulders, the scent of earth and turpentine tickling his nose. Vig.
"You don't look happy," Viggo says, a whisper against his ear, following the direction of Orlando's stare.
"Unhappy doesn't begin to touch it." Orlando flushes when he notices that Harry is looking right at him.
Viggo wraps his arms around Orlando's shoulders and gives him a squeeze. "You know, we as humans have the capacity to give our love to many people." His voice pitched low. "Jealousy is really just a sophomoric emotion."
"Yeah, well, then I'm a freshman. Here, hold this." He hands Viggo his beer and makes a beeline across the room to Harry.
+
"You used to like me squirming," Craig pouts, laying his head on Harry's shoulder, feet over the chair's arm.
Harry's half-listening to Craig, mostly watching Orlando, and he frowns on seeing Viggo's touches. He shouldn't be jealous, doesn't think he has a reason. After all, Viggo's no younger than him, no closer to Orlando's age. "I did. Don't now," he mutters, "so stop." He's still staring at Orlando when the young man moves away from Viggo.
So is Karl. "Incoming elf," he says, sitting on the floor at Harry's leg. "Think he and Mr. Perfect had a falling out."
"Oh, pish," Craig says, "I'll go play with Marton if you're going to be that way."
Orlando's waylaid by a gaggle of hobbits not three feet from Harry and his group. "Not now guys."
"Oh, don't be a grump." Dom loops an arm around his neck, Billy sandwiches him on the other side, Elijah standing in the middle.
"I think he just needs a good snoggin'," Billy says, his grin mischievous.
Orlando frowns. "Seriously, not now." But it's like being tag teamed by dwarves. Dom plants the first one square on his mouth. "Domph..." Billy's next, "Guys, serrsssmm..." Then Lij, more enthusiasm than talent, as per usual. Orlando's cheeks are pink by the time he shakes them all off, pushing them in the general direction of the kitchen. "Get. Off."
"Told you it wouldn't help," Elijah says. “Grouch.”
"Maybe he wants someone else to do the snogging?" Dom follows the other two into the kitchen, the door swinging shut behind them.
"Christ." Orlando runs a hand through his hair and tugs his mangled sweater back down over the waistband of his jeans, finally looking up into four pairs of staring eyes. The blush returns. "Karl. Marton." His voice neutral. "Harry." Not knowing how soft the name gets around the edges when he says it. "Craig." Trying not to grit his teeth.
Craig's moving off Harry's lap, nearly kicking Karl in the head as he maneuvers onto the floor and wedges himself between Marton's spread knees. "Orli," he says, oblivious to any emotion Orlando's displaying.
"Hi, pull up a piece of floor," Karl says, nodding, "or a lap," leaning back against Harry's knee. "Trade one elf for another, Harry?"
Harry smiles. "Sure," he says, as nonchalant as he can. It's a way to touch Orlando without too much public fuss. "If he thinks he can be still."
Orlando shrugs both shoulders. "Sure." Struggling to match Harry's air of nonchalance as he slides over the arm of the chair and into Harry's lap. The green monster vanishes and Orlando relaxes, curling up in a space he fits perfectly. "I didn't know if you'd be here," he murmurs, pitching his voice for Harry's ears only.
Harry settles more easily with Orlando in his lap. "Thank my friends," he says, voice just as low. "They think I stay at the house too much." He has one hand draped casually over Orlando's hip, a favorite spot, and the other holding his beer. "How have you been? Busy, I know."
Orlando's warm everywhere Harry touches. "Yeah, bit busy." Missing you. The four days since he was last over at the house on the beach feels like much longer. "Helm's Deep is looming, so I'm in fight rehearsals more than I sleep." Calloused fingers rub one of the buttons on Harry's shirt, slowly unfastening and refastening it again. "How about you? Put any cannibalistic Orcs in front of the camera lately?"
"Helm's Deep, yeah, been having to listen to Peter go on about it. He's intent on making it perfect," Harry says, not missing the movement of Orlando's fingers. "I'll have you know, Orcs love me."
"Mmhm," Orlando looks up and meets Harry's gaze. "Elves too."
"Harry, you deaf?"
Harry's been tuning out the world, but Karl's voice cuts through. Or it might be the insistent beating on his leg. "What?"
"You want another beer?" Karl looks askew, tilting his head back, resting on Orlando and Harry. "I'm gonna brave the hobbit hoard and hit the kitchen."
"Yeah, another one." Harry laughs at the notion of fighting the hobbits for beer. "Bring back some food, too, if there is any. You want anything, Orlando?" It's an innocent question, but oh so open-ended.
Orlando glances up at Karl. "Please. Lots of food. Cold beer." He looks back at Harry. "And a decent snog. Elijah doesn't kiss worth crap."
"I heard that!"
Orlando shoots the bird over his shoulder in the general direction of the kitchen.
Harry watches Karl move away, laughs when he hears his friend's voice from the kitchen.
"So, what's this I hear? You need snogging lessons?"
"You need a kiss, Orlando?" Harry says, making it sound as if they've never done that, never been this close. "I suppose, in the interest of education, I could show you what a decent snog is."
Orlando pretends to consider. "I think I could definitely benefit from a demonstration, given someone with sufficient expertise,” he says, miraculously avoiding a blush.
"I think I qualify," Harry says, not realizing his voice isn't as soft as before.
"Let's do spin the bottle." It's Craig, nearly bouncing on Marton's leg. "Harry's a good kisser."
Harry frowns. "Craig, why don't you go back to kissing Marton and leave me alone."
"I'm not sure I'm willing to take Craig's word that you're a good kisser." The corner of Orlando's mouth twitches. "Who else would vouch for you as an experienced snogging instructor?"
"Uh, in this room? Marton," Harry says, falling into Orlando's mischievous game.
"I don't know, Harry," Marton interjects, "I never got the full-on Sinclair snog. I think you have to ask Karl for proof."
"Ask me what?" Karl settles back onto the floor after placing his load of goodies on the table, passing Harry his beer.
Craig reaches for a handful of munchies, stuffs them into his mouth. "Orlando wants to know if Harry's a good kisser. I said we should play spin the bottle."
Karl laughs. "One of the best, kid." He shakes his head at Craig. "You just want to get laid."
"Are you really?" Orlando asks Harry, then chokes with laughter at Harry's expression. He pats him lightly on the shoulder. "I guess if Karl thinks you're good, that'll have to do."
"I haven't had any complaints, Orlando." Harry makes the name sound like an angel's, though he knows there's a good bit of fallen angel in his lover. Lover. He hasn't really thought of Orlando that way, until now. He tilts his head, leans in and kisses him, ignoring the applause and catcalls from his friends. It's as chaste as the first kiss they shared, over before it can go too far.
Orlando tugs on Harry's shirt button, a small hum of contentment escaping his throat. His smile Cheshire wide, he cranes his head back to look at Karl. "Definitely one of the best."
"Told you," Karl says, staring at them. "Watch out, Orli, he's addictive, gets in your blood."
Harry kicks Karl's leg. "Shush, you. Don't frighten the boy."
"Yes, Sir. Sorry, Sir," Karl teases, leaning into the cushion made by Orlando's leg crossing Harry's.
"Too late," Orlando murmurs and drops his head against Harry's shoulder, not caring who's looking anymore. "I'm a gonner." After a few seconds, his brow furrows and he lifts his head again. "I do have one question, though. Why does he keep calling you sir?"
"Because he is," Karl mutters.
"Karl, go torment a hobbit," Harry says softly, his voice taking on a tone that implies command rather than suggestion. He shifts under Orlando's weight, pulling him closer. "It's complicated, Orlando, and I'll explain, but here maybe isn't the best place. Next time we're somewhere quiet."
Orlando nods, obeying the pull of Harry's hands as he's tucked closer. He finds warm skin under the shirt button and leans in a little, mouth just under Harry's ear, and whispers something else he'd like to do, the next time they're somewhere quiet.
Harry smiles, a wistful turned up corner of lip, wishing everyone in the room would disappear. He's not even thinking of the questions he'll get from Karl later, or what anyone's thinking. His focus is solely on Orlando and how much more he wants from the young man in his lap. "Just ask Viggo if we can use his bedroom," he teases, kissing Orlando again, just as chaste as the first.
This time Orlando blushes from neck to hair, making a soft, gurgling kind of sound. He blinks owlishly at Harry, then without hesitation, winds an arm around his neck and pulls him down for a properly thorough kiss. He licks his lips as he pulls back. "Viggo has a thing about his bedroom being sacred. But this is a big house." Orlando tumbles from Harry's lap, and turns, leaning over Karl and Harry and the chair, hands braced against the back, mouth just in front of Harry's. "So if you closed your eyes and counted to ten, I bet you'd be able to find me." He licks Harry's lower lip and disappears into the crowd.
"Guess I'm not taking you home," Karl murmurs, watching Orlando disappear.
Harry pushes forward on the chair, rubs a hand through Karl's hair and pulls his head back. "Don't assume, Karl," he says, leaning down and kissing Karl, almost as chaste as he had Orlando. "And get us more beer." He moves off, uncertain of where Orlando's headed, but knowing the house isn't that large. He maneuvers the crowd, finds what he seeks in the hallway. "Is this the line for bathroom?"
"It's a line for something," Orlando murmurs, leaning back against the wall. He hooks a finger in Harry's shirt and tugs lightly, pulling him into the guest room and shutting the door.
There's a moment where nerves battle bravery and somewhere a shocked, speechless version of the Orlando from two weeks ago is trying to crawl under the bed. But this Orlando crowds Harry against the door and presses him against it, mouth skipping right to his throat as his fingers flick open buttons in a steady line. He follows each new section of skin with his mouth, testing his teeth against it, until he's on his knees, his hands hovering over Harry's jeans as he looks up. "I want to suck you."
"You do? Couldn't tell. Not obvious at all." Harry touches Orlando's head, rubs his fingers over the short hair. He shouldn't. It's just too risky. Anyone could catch them. What are you afraid of? Them knowing? "Okay," he whispers.
Orlando abandons teasing tricks and opts for yanking open Harry's jeans. He draws a short breath before swallowing him whole, hand cupping the weight of Harry's balls as he sucks him between sharp teeth to the back of his throat. Starving for a taste.
"Hell." Orlando's abruptness takes Harry by surprise, has him gripping Orlando's shoulder, clutching to keep upright. "Damn you're greedy. Must've gotten you worked up with all that cuddling."
Orlando moans agreement, spreading his knees wide as he wraps his arms around Harry's hips and swallows, hits a gag reflex and swallows past it again, urging Harry deeper with his tugs. Needing more, needing something, and not sure how to make it known.
"Don't try talking, Orlando. Just suck." There's an edge in Harry's voice, that darker side of him sliding into control. He digs his nails into Orlando's shirt, creasing into flesh as the orgasm rolls into place. "Yeah, you got me worked up, wanted to fuck you right there in front of everyone."
The blunt words, the sharp control of Harry's hand, the way his body reacts to something they haven't even done -- all of it -- Orlando moans again, compliant, the secret, frozen places inside thawed. Melting. His sucking gets slower, rougher, more confident, listening to Harry tell him what to do, what they did, and what it made him want.
Don't. Hold back. He doesn't understand. Harry's desire wages war with his common sense, not that it's much of a contest. Desire has the edge, Harry so far gone he's focusing on nothing else. He slides his other hand behind Orlando, rubbing his fingers over his neck, holding him steady. "Swallow," he mutters, letting go, coming with little more warning than that.
Orlando's been expecting it, but not so soon or so hard, his throat filling before he's ready. In the past he would have sputtered and swallowed only enough to pull back for an incredulous "fucking hell," but it's Harry. And there's more of him tied up in Harry than a quick blowjob in a spare room. So much more that it's Harry first, and what Harry wants before the problem of an unexpected throat full of come.
He still sputters and come dribbles down his chin, but his cock bucks under his jeans, smearing the denim and his arms tighten around Harry's hips. He works his throat to swallow once, then again, until there's no more left to suck. He pulls off and looks up, dazed, his tongue sweeping under his lip for what he missed.
Harry's speechless, a rarity, especially after sex. Orlando had already worked his way into Harry's mind, and was well on his way to captivating Harry's heart. The look on Orlando's face drives him over the edge. He slides his hand back through Orlando's hair and down his face, wiping off the dribbles. Wish I could take you back out there, show everyone.
"We should get back," Harry whispers, after a few minutes.
"Yeah," Orlando climbs unsteadily to his feet, his dazed expression gradually overtaken by a shy smile. He kisses Harry - just as chaste as the first time. "Before we're missed."
Go to Chapter 7