FIC: "Proper English" - 1/1, NC17, SB/OB, Lotrips, AU
Title: Proper English
Author: Jo (jo@fadedink.com)
Pairing: Sean Bean/Orlando Bloom
Rating: NC17
Summary: 10 years is a long time.
Disclaimer: 100% not real. Fiction. I made up the whole thing.
Archive: Faded Ink, orlibean_xmas, all others ask first
Author's Notes: For pytha as part of the orlibean_xmas fic exchange. Thanks to azewewish for the beta.
Giving his reflection a tremulous smile, Orlando adjusted his tie and attempted (once again) to straighten his hair. No use. The curls were hopeless, insistent on doing exactly as they pleased no matter how he tried to arrange them. He flashed them a disgusted look, brushed them from his forehead, and turned away.
The second his image was out of sight, Orlando took a deep breath, tried to remember just why he was doing this again. It wasn’t like he’d been particularly attached to St. Michael's while he’d attended the prep school, but the invitation he’d received had said they would be honoring Professor Bean at the dinner. It had also requested a brief speech from him following the dinner and, like a prat, he'd accepted.
Of the very few things Orlando missed about his time at school, Professor Bean was at the top of the list. In fact, he was the only thing Orlando regretted about leaving school behind him. Bean, and the fact that Orlando had never gained the courage to approach his English professor outside of their teacher-student relationship.
He'd wanted to, though. Wanted to corner Bean in a deserted classroom one afternoon and pour his heart out, tell Bean everything he felt, everything he dreamed. He hadn't, of course, too scared that the professor would laugh at him, at the way Orlando dreamed of his eyes, the way his laugh had haunted Orlando late into the night as Orlando brought himself off to images of Bean moving behind his eyelids.
Ah, well, that was ancient history.
Even if Orlando still secretly wished that Bean had been his first lover.
And now here he was, going to see Bean again for the first time in years. All of the old longings flooded him, and he just knew he'd make a fool of himself if he actually had to speak to Bean face to face. He could feel his stomach doing slow tumbles at just the idea. God alone knew how he was going to make it through the evening.
But enough of that. A horn outside indicated the car was here, so Orlando ran quick fingers through his hair, squared his shoulders, and set off to confront his past.
* * *
The banquet hall was crowded, but not overly so. Not enough that Orlando felt uncomfortable. As he moved through the room, nodding at a few faces he vaguely remembered, he could sense the heads turning, voices whispering just beyond his hearing, as people started to recognize him.
All part of the territory, he supposed, seeing as how his first novel, released just months previously, had done so well. Still, though, he wanted to hunch his shoulders and blend in, hide from the scrutiny that he’d never really wanted.
Just then, the crowd moved, shifted, and a nearly clear path opened in front of Orlando. He found himself looking across the room, right into green eyes that he remembered so well.
Those eyes crinkled in a smile, and Orlando stared, breath trapped in his throat. He couldn’t do this. He just couldn’t.
Turning away, he grabbed a drink off the nearest tray, downing half of it in one swallow. Get hold of yourself, Bloom, it was just a crush, and it was years ago. Years ago or not, Orlando knew that if he attempted to talk to Professor Bean, he’d do the exact same thing that he always did in school.
He’d stammer, blush, and come off looking like a complete raving idiot.
Orlando finished his drink, then pushed through the crowd. He needed a bit of fresh air before facing dinner. Just a few minutes to collect himself, and then he’d be alright. After all, the butterflies in his stomach couldn't continue all throughout dinner.
Could they?
Sneaking a last, quick glance at Bean before stepping outside, Orlando swallowed hard. He had a feeling they could.
* * *
Dinner went quickly -- far more quickly than Orlando had hoped. Truthfully, he couldn’t remember a single thing he’d eaten. All he could remember was how near Professor Bean was, seated as they were at the same table, with only the length of that table separating them. Orlando had snuck glances at Bean through the entire meal, admiring the way the charcoal suit jacket had hung on his frame, the way the snowy white shirt had glowed against the tanned skin of his throat.
And each time Bean had laughed, Orlando’s stomach had clenched, and his eyes had been drawn to the laugh lines framing those amazing eyes -- laugh lines that hadn’t been there ten years ago. As Orlando watched, eyes darting away each time Bean had glanced in his direction, he couldn't help but think that the lines suited his former teacher.
Professor Bean had been handsome when Orlando had been his student. Now, though… Now, he was devastating. And all Orlando had been able to do was stare and mechanically swallow his food as he had struggled to make small talk with the people on either side of him.
And now, with dinner over, Orlando sat, hands tucked in his lap, eyes focused on the black tablecloth in front of him, and listened to the speeches praising Professor Bean. He knew his turn was coming, knew and had dreaded it since the invitation requesting him to speak a few words.
Why had he said yes?
He clenched his hands tight, took several deep breaths, and tried to remember how his speech started when he heard his name. Taking another deep breath and a sip of water, he stood, made his way to the podium…and promptly forgot everything he had planned on saying.
For a long moment, he just stood there, staring at the expectant faces turned his way. Then his eyes found Bean's, and Orlando tried to relax.
"I had an entire speech written out," Orlando said, blinking as the microphone amplified his words. "Now, though, I can't remember a single word of it."
He smiled a little as laughter rippled through the crowd. "To be quite honest, I don't remember much about my time at St. Michael's," he said, smile turning bashful as he ducked his head for a second. "I wasn't a terribly good student, really, just doing enough to pass my courses. It would be safe to say that I disliked school. That changed my final year."
Another pause as he sipped from the water glass in front of him, then cleared his throat. "First day of school, I walked into my English class and met Professor Bean. He was new at St. Michael's, just transferred in from up north, and the entire class could tell he was a bit nervous. I imagine it was rather odd for him, teaching in a private school like he was. But he jumped right in and didn't look back.
"It's no secret that the class wasn't particularly well-behaved at first," Orlando continued, pausing for the chuckles that greeted that remark. "But after a week or two, we settled down. There was just something about him. He made us want to learn…he made me want to learn. And to write. His was the first class in which I ever tried to get a better than average grade."
Orlando could feel Bean's eyes on him, but he didn't dare look over. Not yet. "He encouraged me to write, to imagine, to go after my dreams. After graduation, I did just that. My first novel has just recently been published. Without Professor Bean's support ten years ago, I would have never started it, let alone finished it."
Taking a deep breath, he looked over finally, meeting Bean's gaze once more, holding it, a sense of calm washing over him at the warmth he saw in that gaze. "I owe him so much," he said, softly, the microphone picking up each word. "He is the best teacher I ever had, the only one who really encouraged me to try, and I can't think of a better person for this honor you're bestowing on him tonight. Thank you, Professor Bean, you've made a difference in at least one person's life."
As the applause filled the room, Orlando continued to hold Bean's gaze and smiled. Well, that hadn't been so bad. And Bean was still smiling back at him.
* * *
Once again, Orlando found himself regarding his reflection over the bathroom sink. He wasn't surprised to find himself a little pale. "Bloody hell," he murmured, turning the tap to splash water on his face, free hand coming up to loosen the knot in his tie.
His hands were still shaking. Luckily, he'd managed to escape the dining hall before anyone could stop him for more than a few words.
And now there he was, hiding out in the loo like some sort of cowardly git. Not to mention he'd probably come off sounding like the biggest idiot ever with that cobbled together speech he'd given. Why hadn't he been able to remember anything he'd written, the words he'd agonized over until they were just right?
"Yours was the most honest speech I heard all night," said a quiet voice behind him.
Orlando eyes snapped open in shock and he whirled to find himself face to face with a smiling Bean. If he lived to be a hundred, Orlando would never forget the sound of that whiskey soft voice speaking to him. "P-professor Bean…"
"Please," Bean said, lifting a hand. "Call me Sean. You're not in school any longer."
"No," Orlando replied, with a faint smile. "I don't suppose I am. You really were my favorite teacher, you know."
"Was I?" Sean stepped closer, hands tucked in the pockets of his trousers, jacket bunching up over his wrists. Orlando's eyes were drawn to those wrists, traveling over the way the bones shifted beneath tanned skin as Sean moved. "Suppose that's only fair," he said. "Seeing as you were my favorite student."
Orlando blinked, startled. "I was?"
"I was seriously considering resigning after that first year at St. Michael's." Green eyes twinkled as Sean smiled at Orlando. "I'd agreed to a year, but...burnt out, you know. Teaching…it had never really turned out to be quite what I'd expected it to be. And then you came along, and all the other teachers were keen on telling me how you were barely an average student, but I never saw that. I saw someone who just needed a little encouragement. Someone who needed a nudge in the right direction."
"But…"
"I've read your novel. It's quite good."
"Thank you," Orlando murmured, a little dazed. Then he blinked, peered at Sean. There was something in Sean's eyes, something Orlando had never seen there before. Something he'd seen in the eyes of several past lovers. It was exhilarating, freeing…and, for the first time, Orlando allowed himself to wonder if maybe there might be something there to explore.
The knowledge relaxed him. "I had a bit of a crush on you…"
"A bit?" Sean chuckled, and Orlando felt all the blood in his body race to his groin.
"Well…maybe more than a bit," Orlando muttered, shifting in an effort to ease the tightness in his trousers, certain his face was bright red.
"You were such a beautiful boy," Sean said, softly, eyes fixed on Orlando's face as he stepped closer. "You've grown into an incredibly handsome man."
"B-beautiful?" Wide eyes stared at Sean as the words -- and what Sean hadn't said and the way he was looking at Orlando -- registered in Orlando's brain. "But you never…"
"Well, no," Sean said, finally close enough to lift a hand and briefly touch Orlando's jaw, leaving a trail of fire in its wake. "You were a student and a child."
"I was seventeen," Orlando snapped, more than a little indignant.
"And I was thirty-three," Sean replied, fingers drifting along the line of Orlando's throat before pulling away.
Orlando shuddered at the light touch, body swaying to follow it. He wanted Sean to touch him again, to keep touching him. He opened his mouth, tried to put that into words, but Sean spoke first.
"As much as I wanted you -- and I do want you -- you were too young."
…and I do want you…
"And now?" Orlando said, after a long moment.
"And now," Sean whispered, stepping in until his chest brushed Orlando's, a deliciously wicked smile curving his lips, "you're not. I hoped you'd come tonight, you know. In fact, I even mentioned to the planning committee that, as the only one of my students to ever publish, they might consider asking you to speak."
"You did?" Again, Orlando studied Sean, body throbbing from his nearness, from the heat searing him through the layers of clothing separating them.
"I did," Sean replied, fingers sliding behind Orlando's neck to toy with the curls at his nape. "And when I saw you, I was hoping I'd get the chance to get you alone."
Orlando had no chance to reply before Sean's lips covered his in a kiss that had his toes curling. All the oxygen was sucked from the room and Orlando could focus on nothing except the feel of Sean's tongue stroking his. When the kiss ended, he wasn't at all surprised to find he was breathing hard or that his tie was completely undone.
"Sean, we should --"
"I love the way you say my name," Sean murmured, voice rough as he dipped in for another kiss.
Orlando could feel Sean's fingers moving over his chest, fumbling slightly, but he paid it no mind. He was far too interested in crawling inside the kiss, exploring Sean from the inside out, seeking more of those delicious moans like that one Sean had just given.
Then callused fingers smoothed over Orlando's bare chest, and he had a moment to wonder how his shirt had become unbuttoned, but that was all forgotten as Sean deepened the kiss, pushing him back until his hips hit the sink. Orlando twisted and writhed, rubbing against Sean with each shift of his body, and the friction rocketed along his spine, pebbled his skin with each harsh breath in the silent room.
"Someone could --"
"I know," Sean said, flashing that wicked grin again as his fingers slid lower, ghosting over Orlando's stomach.
Orlando gasped, fingers curling around the back of Sean's neck, twitching as soft hair brushed over them. He barely heard the whispered "We'll take our time later," as Sean's fingers dipped into his trousers and curled around his aching erection. His gasp turned into a groan as his hips bucked.
"Oh, God…"
"Shh," Sean murmured, lips traveling down Orlando's throat as his hand started to move, fingers snug and assured over Orlando's cock.
Greedy hands pulled Sean's head up so Orlando could get at his lips. Tongues slipsliding against each other, Orlando dropped his hands, worked at Sean's tie. A button pinged off a sink as he pulled at Sean's shirt, eager to caress warm, bare skin as Sean's hand continued to move over him, sending him closer to the edge with each slick slide.
His hips pushed forward, moving in perfect rhythm with Sean's fist, and Orlando shivered as Sean growled against his lips. He dove deeper into the kiss, hands tight on Sean's shoulders, fingers kneading firm muscle and bone as he sought more.
Then Sean's tongue did something against the roof of Orlando's mouth just as his wrist flicked, and that was all it took. Black spots danced before Orlando's eyes as he came with a harsh groan, spilling over Sean's fingers in hot spurts.
"Even more beautiful than I ever imagined," Sean murmured as he eased Orlando down with quiet words and soft touches.
Orlando trembled, muscles twitching with each light touch. His lashes fluttered as he opened dazed eyes to look at Sean. He smiled, tried to still ragged breathing. Just then, Sean's earlier words hit him.
We'll take our time later.
Later. But that meant…a future? Maybe? "Your place," Orlando said, voice thick and rough, "or mine?"
Sean's bark of laughter was music to Orlando's ears, and he grinned as Sean said, "Thought you'd never ask, lad."
Author: Jo (jo@fadedink.com)
Pairing: Sean Bean/Orlando Bloom
Rating: NC17
Summary: 10 years is a long time.
Disclaimer: 100% not real. Fiction. I made up the whole thing.
Archive: Faded Ink, orlibean_xmas, all others ask first
Author's Notes: For pytha as part of the orlibean_xmas fic exchange. Thanks to azewewish for the beta.
Giving his reflection a tremulous smile, Orlando adjusted his tie and attempted (once again) to straighten his hair. No use. The curls were hopeless, insistent on doing exactly as they pleased no matter how he tried to arrange them. He flashed them a disgusted look, brushed them from his forehead, and turned away.
The second his image was out of sight, Orlando took a deep breath, tried to remember just why he was doing this again. It wasn’t like he’d been particularly attached to St. Michael's while he’d attended the prep school, but the invitation he’d received had said they would be honoring Professor Bean at the dinner. It had also requested a brief speech from him following the dinner and, like a prat, he'd accepted.
Of the very few things Orlando missed about his time at school, Professor Bean was at the top of the list. In fact, he was the only thing Orlando regretted about leaving school behind him. Bean, and the fact that Orlando had never gained the courage to approach his English professor outside of their teacher-student relationship.
He'd wanted to, though. Wanted to corner Bean in a deserted classroom one afternoon and pour his heart out, tell Bean everything he felt, everything he dreamed. He hadn't, of course, too scared that the professor would laugh at him, at the way Orlando dreamed of his eyes, the way his laugh had haunted Orlando late into the night as Orlando brought himself off to images of Bean moving behind his eyelids.
Ah, well, that was ancient history.
Even if Orlando still secretly wished that Bean had been his first lover.
And now here he was, going to see Bean again for the first time in years. All of the old longings flooded him, and he just knew he'd make a fool of himself if he actually had to speak to Bean face to face. He could feel his stomach doing slow tumbles at just the idea. God alone knew how he was going to make it through the evening.
But enough of that. A horn outside indicated the car was here, so Orlando ran quick fingers through his hair, squared his shoulders, and set off to confront his past.
* * *
The banquet hall was crowded, but not overly so. Not enough that Orlando felt uncomfortable. As he moved through the room, nodding at a few faces he vaguely remembered, he could sense the heads turning, voices whispering just beyond his hearing, as people started to recognize him.
All part of the territory, he supposed, seeing as how his first novel, released just months previously, had done so well. Still, though, he wanted to hunch his shoulders and blend in, hide from the scrutiny that he’d never really wanted.
Just then, the crowd moved, shifted, and a nearly clear path opened in front of Orlando. He found himself looking across the room, right into green eyes that he remembered so well.
Those eyes crinkled in a smile, and Orlando stared, breath trapped in his throat. He couldn’t do this. He just couldn’t.
Turning away, he grabbed a drink off the nearest tray, downing half of it in one swallow. Get hold of yourself, Bloom, it was just a crush, and it was years ago. Years ago or not, Orlando knew that if he attempted to talk to Professor Bean, he’d do the exact same thing that he always did in school.
He’d stammer, blush, and come off looking like a complete raving idiot.
Orlando finished his drink, then pushed through the crowd. He needed a bit of fresh air before facing dinner. Just a few minutes to collect himself, and then he’d be alright. After all, the butterflies in his stomach couldn't continue all throughout dinner.
Could they?
Sneaking a last, quick glance at Bean before stepping outside, Orlando swallowed hard. He had a feeling they could.
* * *
Dinner went quickly -- far more quickly than Orlando had hoped. Truthfully, he couldn’t remember a single thing he’d eaten. All he could remember was how near Professor Bean was, seated as they were at the same table, with only the length of that table separating them. Orlando had snuck glances at Bean through the entire meal, admiring the way the charcoal suit jacket had hung on his frame, the way the snowy white shirt had glowed against the tanned skin of his throat.
And each time Bean had laughed, Orlando’s stomach had clenched, and his eyes had been drawn to the laugh lines framing those amazing eyes -- laugh lines that hadn’t been there ten years ago. As Orlando watched, eyes darting away each time Bean had glanced in his direction, he couldn't help but think that the lines suited his former teacher.
Professor Bean had been handsome when Orlando had been his student. Now, though… Now, he was devastating. And all Orlando had been able to do was stare and mechanically swallow his food as he had struggled to make small talk with the people on either side of him.
And now, with dinner over, Orlando sat, hands tucked in his lap, eyes focused on the black tablecloth in front of him, and listened to the speeches praising Professor Bean. He knew his turn was coming, knew and had dreaded it since the invitation requesting him to speak a few words.
Why had he said yes?
He clenched his hands tight, took several deep breaths, and tried to remember how his speech started when he heard his name. Taking another deep breath and a sip of water, he stood, made his way to the podium…and promptly forgot everything he had planned on saying.
For a long moment, he just stood there, staring at the expectant faces turned his way. Then his eyes found Bean's, and Orlando tried to relax.
"I had an entire speech written out," Orlando said, blinking as the microphone amplified his words. "Now, though, I can't remember a single word of it."
He smiled a little as laughter rippled through the crowd. "To be quite honest, I don't remember much about my time at St. Michael's," he said, smile turning bashful as he ducked his head for a second. "I wasn't a terribly good student, really, just doing enough to pass my courses. It would be safe to say that I disliked school. That changed my final year."
Another pause as he sipped from the water glass in front of him, then cleared his throat. "First day of school, I walked into my English class and met Professor Bean. He was new at St. Michael's, just transferred in from up north, and the entire class could tell he was a bit nervous. I imagine it was rather odd for him, teaching in a private school like he was. But he jumped right in and didn't look back.
"It's no secret that the class wasn't particularly well-behaved at first," Orlando continued, pausing for the chuckles that greeted that remark. "But after a week or two, we settled down. There was just something about him. He made us want to learn…he made me want to learn. And to write. His was the first class in which I ever tried to get a better than average grade."
Orlando could feel Bean's eyes on him, but he didn't dare look over. Not yet. "He encouraged me to write, to imagine, to go after my dreams. After graduation, I did just that. My first novel has just recently been published. Without Professor Bean's support ten years ago, I would have never started it, let alone finished it."
Taking a deep breath, he looked over finally, meeting Bean's gaze once more, holding it, a sense of calm washing over him at the warmth he saw in that gaze. "I owe him so much," he said, softly, the microphone picking up each word. "He is the best teacher I ever had, the only one who really encouraged me to try, and I can't think of a better person for this honor you're bestowing on him tonight. Thank you, Professor Bean, you've made a difference in at least one person's life."
As the applause filled the room, Orlando continued to hold Bean's gaze and smiled. Well, that hadn't been so bad. And Bean was still smiling back at him.
* * *
Once again, Orlando found himself regarding his reflection over the bathroom sink. He wasn't surprised to find himself a little pale. "Bloody hell," he murmured, turning the tap to splash water on his face, free hand coming up to loosen the knot in his tie.
His hands were still shaking. Luckily, he'd managed to escape the dining hall before anyone could stop him for more than a few words.
And now there he was, hiding out in the loo like some sort of cowardly git. Not to mention he'd probably come off sounding like the biggest idiot ever with that cobbled together speech he'd given. Why hadn't he been able to remember anything he'd written, the words he'd agonized over until they were just right?
"Yours was the most honest speech I heard all night," said a quiet voice behind him.
Orlando eyes snapped open in shock and he whirled to find himself face to face with a smiling Bean. If he lived to be a hundred, Orlando would never forget the sound of that whiskey soft voice speaking to him. "P-professor Bean…"
"Please," Bean said, lifting a hand. "Call me Sean. You're not in school any longer."
"No," Orlando replied, with a faint smile. "I don't suppose I am. You really were my favorite teacher, you know."
"Was I?" Sean stepped closer, hands tucked in the pockets of his trousers, jacket bunching up over his wrists. Orlando's eyes were drawn to those wrists, traveling over the way the bones shifted beneath tanned skin as Sean moved. "Suppose that's only fair," he said. "Seeing as you were my favorite student."
Orlando blinked, startled. "I was?"
"I was seriously considering resigning after that first year at St. Michael's." Green eyes twinkled as Sean smiled at Orlando. "I'd agreed to a year, but...burnt out, you know. Teaching…it had never really turned out to be quite what I'd expected it to be. And then you came along, and all the other teachers were keen on telling me how you were barely an average student, but I never saw that. I saw someone who just needed a little encouragement. Someone who needed a nudge in the right direction."
"But…"
"I've read your novel. It's quite good."
"Thank you," Orlando murmured, a little dazed. Then he blinked, peered at Sean. There was something in Sean's eyes, something Orlando had never seen there before. Something he'd seen in the eyes of several past lovers. It was exhilarating, freeing…and, for the first time, Orlando allowed himself to wonder if maybe there might be something there to explore.
The knowledge relaxed him. "I had a bit of a crush on you…"
"A bit?" Sean chuckled, and Orlando felt all the blood in his body race to his groin.
"Well…maybe more than a bit," Orlando muttered, shifting in an effort to ease the tightness in his trousers, certain his face was bright red.
"You were such a beautiful boy," Sean said, softly, eyes fixed on Orlando's face as he stepped closer. "You've grown into an incredibly handsome man."
"B-beautiful?" Wide eyes stared at Sean as the words -- and what Sean hadn't said and the way he was looking at Orlando -- registered in Orlando's brain. "But you never…"
"Well, no," Sean said, finally close enough to lift a hand and briefly touch Orlando's jaw, leaving a trail of fire in its wake. "You were a student and a child."
"I was seventeen," Orlando snapped, more than a little indignant.
"And I was thirty-three," Sean replied, fingers drifting along the line of Orlando's throat before pulling away.
Orlando shuddered at the light touch, body swaying to follow it. He wanted Sean to touch him again, to keep touching him. He opened his mouth, tried to put that into words, but Sean spoke first.
"As much as I wanted you -- and I do want you -- you were too young."
…and I do want you…
"And now?" Orlando said, after a long moment.
"And now," Sean whispered, stepping in until his chest brushed Orlando's, a deliciously wicked smile curving his lips, "you're not. I hoped you'd come tonight, you know. In fact, I even mentioned to the planning committee that, as the only one of my students to ever publish, they might consider asking you to speak."
"You did?" Again, Orlando studied Sean, body throbbing from his nearness, from the heat searing him through the layers of clothing separating them.
"I did," Sean replied, fingers sliding behind Orlando's neck to toy with the curls at his nape. "And when I saw you, I was hoping I'd get the chance to get you alone."
Orlando had no chance to reply before Sean's lips covered his in a kiss that had his toes curling. All the oxygen was sucked from the room and Orlando could focus on nothing except the feel of Sean's tongue stroking his. When the kiss ended, he wasn't at all surprised to find he was breathing hard or that his tie was completely undone.
"Sean, we should --"
"I love the way you say my name," Sean murmured, voice rough as he dipped in for another kiss.
Orlando could feel Sean's fingers moving over his chest, fumbling slightly, but he paid it no mind. He was far too interested in crawling inside the kiss, exploring Sean from the inside out, seeking more of those delicious moans like that one Sean had just given.
Then callused fingers smoothed over Orlando's bare chest, and he had a moment to wonder how his shirt had become unbuttoned, but that was all forgotten as Sean deepened the kiss, pushing him back until his hips hit the sink. Orlando twisted and writhed, rubbing against Sean with each shift of his body, and the friction rocketed along his spine, pebbled his skin with each harsh breath in the silent room.
"Someone could --"
"I know," Sean said, flashing that wicked grin again as his fingers slid lower, ghosting over Orlando's stomach.
Orlando gasped, fingers curling around the back of Sean's neck, twitching as soft hair brushed over them. He barely heard the whispered "We'll take our time later," as Sean's fingers dipped into his trousers and curled around his aching erection. His gasp turned into a groan as his hips bucked.
"Oh, God…"
"Shh," Sean murmured, lips traveling down Orlando's throat as his hand started to move, fingers snug and assured over Orlando's cock.
Greedy hands pulled Sean's head up so Orlando could get at his lips. Tongues slipsliding against each other, Orlando dropped his hands, worked at Sean's tie. A button pinged off a sink as he pulled at Sean's shirt, eager to caress warm, bare skin as Sean's hand continued to move over him, sending him closer to the edge with each slick slide.
His hips pushed forward, moving in perfect rhythm with Sean's fist, and Orlando shivered as Sean growled against his lips. He dove deeper into the kiss, hands tight on Sean's shoulders, fingers kneading firm muscle and bone as he sought more.
Then Sean's tongue did something against the roof of Orlando's mouth just as his wrist flicked, and that was all it took. Black spots danced before Orlando's eyes as he came with a harsh groan, spilling over Sean's fingers in hot spurts.
"Even more beautiful than I ever imagined," Sean murmured as he eased Orlando down with quiet words and soft touches.
Orlando trembled, muscles twitching with each light touch. His lashes fluttered as he opened dazed eyes to look at Sean. He smiled, tried to still ragged breathing. Just then, Sean's earlier words hit him.
We'll take our time later.
Later. But that meant…a future? Maybe? "Your place," Orlando said, voice thick and rough, "or mine?"
Sean's bark of laughter was music to Orlando's ears, and he grinned as Sean said, "Thought you'd never ask, lad."