Camulus unlocked the door and stepped into the darkened penthouse apartment. His new home. No, their new home as Orlin stepped in right behind him, already reaching out for Camulus
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Goa'uld may not do subtle very well, but Camulus still knew that Ba'al's friendly little message had been a very clear reminder that Camulus still worked for him.
"At least . . ." he began, following Orlin automatically, then caught himself before saying something sappy. Camulus still couldn't believe that this had happened, that Orlin had found him, that Ba'al hadn't killed either of them. That he had Orlin again. It was still so new and so unexpected Camulus half expected himself to wake from a dream.
Orlin froze, then turned looking slightly mollified but still visibly shaken by Ba'al appearing in their new penthouse. Well they had definately moved up in the world.
Camulus very carefully extracted Scathadh from his pocket, allowing her to scamper away to explore before taking off the jacket and throwing it carelessly over the back of a chair. He stepped up to Orlin and slipped his arms around his waist, nuzzling his nose into the shaggy blond hair and taking a deep breath.
"Why wouldn't I Camulus?" Orlin asked almost tartly, holding himself slightly stiff as though uncomfortable, "I could't... I just..."
He trailed off, his throat suddenly thick with emotion.
And then it hit him. This was the first time in monthes the he and Camulus had been alone. Truely alone with no one lookin gover their sholders or travelling. It was... God it had been to long.
He flung his arms around his lovers waist and stepped into his embrace, burying his face in the other man's sholder.
Camulus pulled him close, pressing a soft kiss to his hair before just holding him. Leaving Orlin had been one of the hardest things he had ever done in three thousands years of life - and he ranked genocide far below leaving Orlin in that regard.
Now, here, holding Orlin, he wondered how he had managed it in the first place. He certainly wasn't about to do it again. Ever, if he could manage it.
Being held agian was amazing. He closed his eyes and breathed the scent that was uniquely Cam- well ok Mochta but Camulus had the body so it was ok.
Idly, Orlin ran his hands up Camulus back and frowned slightly at the material covering the beautifully muscled back. It seemed that all that extra weight he'd been packing around inf Fandom High was gone.
"I prefer you in kilt," he said, looking up at Camulus, a soft smile playing around his lips, "Less barriars."
There had been no extra weight. But if, theoretically, there had been, it would have been burned off in the all-night gym sessions Camulus had tried to use to forget about what he was usually doing at that time.
"Just means you have to work for it a little harder," he growled lightly. "Like I did."
Like it had ever been hard to get Orlin out of his pants.
Camulus's stomach muscles rippled and tightened as Orlin ran his hands over them. Not through any show of masculinity, but an automatic reaction to the touch of his lover. So very, very long denied.
"So no more of this rothar stuff, m' fhear bheag," he replied, his own hands staying in place.
He raised a brow and continued what he had been doing, which was removing Camulus' shirt and tossing it carelessly on a chair off to their right.
"I think not A Ghrá mo Chroí" he murmered, dropping a light kiss on Camulus chest before lowering his hands to work on 'silly piece of clothing number three'. "Not as long as you call me fhear bheag."
Camulus would probably be complaining about all this forceful clothes removal, but, unfortunately, his lips were busy at the moment. Very busy, actually.
Orlin was a gooooood kisser.
Camulus's hands tugged at Orlin's shirt, untucking it from his jeans and sliding underneath, rough hands brushing over the soft skin and smooth muscle that he had missed so desperately. Not that he had ever admitted such a thing.
Camulus just growled softly, nipping at Orlin's lower lip as he kissed Orlin roughly, holding him as close as he could without crawling under the other man's skin. He had felt the same way and the relief at finally being here, being able to hold Orlin again was so strong it made his knees weak.
Then again, that could be because of all this kissing and pressing and holding going on. It was hard to tell.
"We could have doen something to get away from him," he stated grouchily, stepping away from Camulus and heading to the bar, "I don't like him."
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"At least . . ." he began, following Orlin automatically, then caught himself before saying something sappy. Camulus still couldn't believe that this had happened, that Orlin had found him, that Ba'al hadn't killed either of them. That he had Orlin again. It was still so new and so unexpected Camulus half expected himself to wake from a dream.
So he said it anyways.
"At least we're together again."
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"We do have that yes." he agreed.
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"I can't believe you came for me."
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He trailed off, his throat suddenly thick with emotion.
And then it hit him. This was the first time in monthes the he and Camulus had been alone. Truely alone with no one lookin gover their sholders or travelling. It was... God it had been to long.
He flung his arms around his lovers waist and stepped into his embrace, burying his face in the other man's sholder.
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Now, here, holding Orlin, he wondered how he had managed it in the first place. He certainly wasn't about to do it again. Ever, if he could manage it.
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Idly, Orlin ran his hands up Camulus back and frowned slightly at the material covering the beautifully muscled back. It seemed that all that extra weight he'd been packing around inf Fandom High was gone.
"I prefer you in kilt," he said, looking up at Camulus, a soft smile playing around his lips, "Less barriars."
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"Just means you have to work for it a little harder," he growled lightly. "Like I did."
Like it had ever been hard to get Orlin out of his pants.
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"You've lost some weight," he added, as he untucked said shirt and ran his hands up over the taught belly and up his chest.
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"So no more of this rothar stuff, m' fhear bheag," he replied, his own hands staying in place.
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"I think not A Ghrá mo Chroí" he murmered, dropping a light kiss on Camulus chest before lowering his hands to work on 'silly piece of clothing number three'. "Not as long as you call me fhear bheag."
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Put out? It almost destroyed him.
Camulus had selective memory like that.
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Now to the suit pants.
"Exactly, so it's not happening," Orlin murmerd, stepping closer as he worked one handedly , his free hand pulling Camulus' head down for a kiss.
"Get over it."
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Orlin was a gooooood kisser.
Camulus's hands tugged at Orlin's shirt, untucking it from his jeans and sliding underneath, rough hands brushing over the soft skin and smooth muscle that he had missed so desperately. Not that he had ever admitted such a thing.
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The worry, anger, and fear translating itself into his kiss.
"God I've missed you," he muttered, barely audible.
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Then again, that could be because of all this kissing and pressing and holding going on. It was hard to tell.
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