RPS::Dominic Monaghan/Orlando Bloom::NC-17::It's You
Title: It's You
Author: dejectedmadness
Warnings: Slash, you might get really really turned on.
Rating: NC-17 for SURE!!!
Pairing: This is why you would get really really turned on. Orlando Bloom/ Dominic Monaghan
Summary: This is a response to a challenge issued by tinkerbell_may a while ago. It had to contain two of several people listed in a pairing and the line: "If I were any more drunk, I’d probably end up in bed with you."
Disclaimer: If I owned them, I wouldn't have to write about this stuff. Heh.
Music blared, lights flashed, people brushed past in a flurry of colour, pressing against him, innocent or no, offering glasses of drinks he shouldn’t accept, and the promise of sex he shouldn’t want. It was too soon, too fresh, and too tactless to let his gaze linger too long on those breasts, or his crotch. He let his eyes flutter over skin and lips and fingers, caressing with his gaze what he’d get slapped for had his eyes been hands.
The corner looked so comforting, solitary, isolated. He could duck behind the potted plant and let his face fall, smile fade for just a minute, just ten seconds, but the slightest move away from one and subsequently toward another incited an attack, bombardment of protests, invitations, push and pull, left and right.
He shrugged them off, taking the drink and solitude he shouldn’t have allowed himself. Too soon, too tactlessly, he threw himself into the sway, the throes of publicity, stardom, and socialization. He shouldn’t be ready. He shouldn’t be here. The drink was gone in seconds.
“You look like you could use another.” British, crisp, lovely familiarity pulled his head around, longingly, but self-restraint held him back. Instead of an embrace, he settled for a smile.
“Been a while hasn’t it?” A soft grin tickled with sympathy appeared, lopsided on the once-hobbit’s face. “Shouldn’t let yourself stay away so long, mate.”
“Absence makes the heart grow fonder,” he smiled back.
Eyes, eyes, eyes, he must have had dozens of them and only two, but Orlando stared into them as though he thought Dominic might vanish should he blink. Was his pulse suddenly quicker?
“So I’ve heard.” His smile faded a little without seeming to have gone. Perhaps it was simply his eyes that fell, saddened. They were all Orlando could see anyway. If he looked away, well what might he look at? Not something he would like to be caught staring at in public without a great deal more alcohol in him, not that it would have taken much more anyhow.
“I’ve heard something else worth noting, also.” Orlando finally averted his eyes. An actor, surely, but nonetheless he could not make himself show the sadness he didn’t feel, especially not to Dom. He couldn’t play this part. “Are you all right?” As expected, the other Brit had mistaken the evasive-eye-manoeuvre to be his hiding glassy tears long enough to blink them away.
Orlando forced a smile, knowing how fake it looked, wondering if Dominic was fooled. “Can we talk outside?”
***
Another drink in him mightn’t have been a good idea, knowing how little the once-elf could hold in such a short span of time, but Dominic passed him some champagne and took some for himself.
As an actor, Orlando usually had him fooled, but the fake smile, the bright eyes, too wide, begging his belief only served to convince Dom how devastated his companion was. A broken engagement was never easy, least of all on the gullible. How Orli had not known she was a tramp to begin with, Dom couldn’t figure out. Rumours flew around everywhere, and even as little as he trusted the media, the general consensus was, “Bloom Broken-hearted - Bosworth: Bitch!”
Dom was under no delusions that Orli would tell him what had happened, but perhaps he just needed someone to tell how much it hurt. Maybe he could be that person for him. “God willing….” He left the prayer unasked, almost laughing to himself at the thought of praying for such a thing.
They walked outside, breathing the fresh cool air, exhaling smoke and the stench of fancy drinks and expensive perfume from the interior of the building. The stars might have been bright tonight, but Dom could not see them in the city. He wished he could.
Orlando let the glass hover near his lips but didn’t drink. His eyes were blank. He looked at Dominic.
“How have you been?” Delayed as it may have been, Dom was flattered at his friend’s consideration, unfailing, even when his mind was clearly occupied with its own dark thoughts.
“Suviving, you know. Business is going well.” He laughed. Orlando seemed genuinely pleased to hear him speak about normal things.
“I’ve seen you on the telly a few times, on that show… people stranded on an island….”
“Lost, yeah. They’re airing it bloody everywhere now.”
Had he watched the show? Did he like it? Was he watching to see Dom, or did he just catch it on once or twice?
He forced the thoughts away, mentally scolding his pulse to slow down. The last thing he needed was heart failure from trying to keep the blood from rushing to his groin. Could that happen?
“But you don’t seem to be doing too bad yourself mister Pirates of the Caribbean sequels, blacksmith from the crusades epic movie. Not just an elf with erroneous lines anymore.”
“They weren’t erroneous! They were good lines. Very informative and… and descriptive.”
“‘They run as if the very whips of their masters were behind them….’” Dom raised his eyebrow.
“Very informative,” Orlando insisted.
The argument didn’t last. They never did. It was different from Dom and Elijah, or even Dom and Bills. Make one smart remark to either of them and you’re arguing for days about the merits of marbles for glass eyes. Not so with Orli.
As the elf, he probably shouldn’t have gotten on so well with the hobbits, but Sean, the father and husband, was often away doing his own thing, being the grown-up or what have you. It was only sensible that the other twenty-something in the cast would take his place.
Rumour had it, Dom knew, that he and Billy were the closest, best mates, still chatting and getting together for a drink now and again, but to Dominic, the closest relationship forged, and by far the most meaningful, was between himself and the man who wore blonde wigs and spoke to trees when they were first acquainted.
The same age, with the same interests in film and music, it was reasonable that they always got on. What was not so reasonable was the reaction Dom’s body had when his new best mate was in close proximity, or at least that was what he told himself.
But honestly, he thought, who would not have gotten hard to the thought of those dark eyes staring back at him the way he knew he must stare at them, or the mental image of those thin dark lips closing over his cock while his hands fisted the silky curls? He couldn’t help that he fancied the pretty elvish bloke. He could only hope that it wasn’t too obvious.
***
Dom was staring at him, but it didn’t seem he was fishing for something to say; the silence was too comfortable for that kind of tension. He might be considering his words, but his face was too carefully blank for the possibility of reading his expression, so Orli just stared back.
Orlando didn’t know his friend’s straight credentials, but he made the assumption all men and women make- that Dom was straight as an arrow. Regardless, the man had to be comfortable with his sexuality judging by the way he wore his hair, carefully mussed, held in place by gel or wax, the light eyeliner he wore, and even the extravagant mismatched clothes, with pinks and purples as well as blacks, browns, and blues, enough of both masculine and feminine colours to be ambiguous. He dared you to ask; the look said, “Come find out for yourself.”
Orlando almost licked his lips unconsciously, but became aware of the movement before it was made. Fuck, he wanted to take that challenge. How easy would it be? Just to grab him behind the head, pull him forward, it would be so easy. Just press his lips to those before him, thrust his tongue between them, and God, it would feel so good to just take.
Orlando’s Adam’s apple bobbed when he swallowed, trying to suppress the rising urge, the desire, and the blood rushing to his cock. He let his eyes slide up to the lips on which he’d been focused before to find them moving.
“Orlando, are you feeling all right?” The voice echoed as if through a drum. The Brit had to focus on the movement of the mouth and was, even then, slow to reply.
His mouth was too dry. “I need something to drink.”
Dom barked a laugh. “I don’t know, mate,” he said. Regardless, Orlando grabbed a drink off a passing tray. He was conscious of Dominic’s jaw dropping as the burning alcohol rushed down his throat and he discarded the glass. “If you have much more to drink,” he cautioned, spinning in Orlando’s head, “you’ll end up in bed with a throbbing head tomorrow.”
In bed, Orlando caught, throbbing. His breath quickened with the images those words put in his mind, the propositions that sprang to his tongue in relation to those thoughts. Then, before he realized, the words were there, his mouth gaping, exhaling the rest of the oxygen, which hadn’t come out with them, and the sound of his own voice rang in his ears.
“If I were any more drunk, I’d probably end up in bed with you.”
***
Had he just said that? What had he meant? Was it a sling or an invitation? His mouth gaped, the pause growing until it’s meaning could be construed as nothing but the sexual tension and grammatical confusion that it was. Did he dare ask clarification, or maybe laugh? Orlando might be drunk enough to think his inebriated senses imagined this huge tense hesitation, but did he risk it? Was it too late to pretend those simple words didn’t leave him in the void between being hurt by the mocking and hopefulness?
“What do you think?” Orlando whispered, his voice rumbling and low, sending vibrations through Dom’s body and shivers up his spine. “Should I have another before we go?”
***
“Oh God,” as a shirt suddenly disappeared and lips found warm skin, pulsing with the hot blood rushing beneath it to fuel his body’s rising passion. The room spun even as Dom’s back hit the sheets and grounded him, until Orlando’s hands found his bare skin, and then the room was gone.
A tongue dipped into the sensitive hollows of the man’s chest, neck and arms. The unfeminine bristles of Orlando’s face scratching against his triceps sent another jolt of adrenaline straight to his groin and he found himself wondering if he had ever been hard before. Could any other turn on possibly have left him this stiff and needy? It was impossible not to arch into the hot, unfortunately partially clothed body pressing him against the bed. The noise that escaped his throat didn’t sound human in the remotest sense, though it was in a language that all cultures could decipher.
His hands were clumsy. Orli knew that it wasn’t just lust that confused his movements, and he cursed the amount of alcohol he had in him right then. He tried to undo the buttons on Dom’s shirt, but found himself only getting in the way when Dom deftly relieved himself of it with one hand. Was it strange that Orlando found it irresistible that the man could function as well with his left hand as with his right?
When the obstruction was gone, it was easier, by far. With solid flesh, warm and yielding, in his grasp, Orlando didn’t need his sight anymore to guide him. He knew how to touch, how to slide his fingers against hot skin and into hollows, over bumps on the body, holding him down, to persuade gasps from his lover. With the blood echoing in his ears, it was difficult to hear the lapses of breath when his fingers brushed over sensitive nipples and gripped the man’s sides.
Dom fumbled with the waistband of Orli’s boxers, telling his fingers to work like they were intended to. They snaked inside and pulled the offensive material away from his prize with relative ease. The taller man was holding himself up, off Dom such that sufficient room was granted to the lighter-haired man to grip Orli’s considerable straining flesh. Dom barely touched Orlando, encouraging him to arch into the long fingers, which he did with an audible moan. Dom allowed one hand to slide back and cup his sac while the other proceeded to provide just enough friction against the dark prick to elicit pleas from Orli.
“Dominic,” he breathed, “touch me.”
It was forgotten, as simply as that. The fight, the break up, the irritation, the secret lust, the lies, the discomfort, all vanished under the light of the stars through the bay window with the slide of skin on skin.
Suddenly, Orlando was on his back and Dom pressed his lips to the bare chest, his tongue straining to draw the nipple into his mouth, lips closing around it and teeth gently drawing across its hardness. Orli’s straining member was pressing into his stomach, and with each pleasurable action, with each groan, it pulsed, begging for attention. Dominic intended to pay it due consideration as soon as he had its owner incoherent with desire.
Orli fisted the sheets as Dom’s hands caressed his thighs, loving the feel of the hair sliding between his fingers and the smooth skin, a contrast to its roughness, underneath. He cried out when Dom bit down particularly hard on his firm stomach, then sighed when his tongue laved the sore area with care.
Dominic slid lower, hot breath sliding over his lover’s throbbing cock. He hovered above it, wanting to take it, imagining the taste, texture, and how it would feel in his mouth. At the last second he turned his head and drew his tongue up the crease between Orlando’s groin and his thigh, using teeth tentatively, and allowing his hands to slide underneath him, gripping his backside and dipping fingers into the sensitive crevice of his ass.
“Dom… oh God,” his voice was high and desperate. He lifted his hips to meet Dominic’s lips, but immediately pressed them back down into the hands touching his bottom. Dom smiled into the next kiss, stroking Orli’s perineum. The next sound from Orlando’s throat was a hoarse sigh and a slightly high-pitched cry. “Dominic, oh fuck, please… uh! Please!”
Dom turned his head back toward Orlando’s cock and with one quick movement engulfed the thing. He moaned with Orlando, who moaned twice as loud at the vibrations that accompanied the sound. With one hand holding Orli’s hips to the bed, his other hand continued to roam. He traced the head with his tongue, savouring the taste of the liquid that was seeping from the end, not finding it disgusting as he had feared. He hollowed his cheeks and pulled the cock farther down his throat.
Dom did on Orlando what he knew he liked done on himself. He never stayed doing one thing too long, knowing that the constant change would prolong the climax and prevent boredom, but with the keening coming from his elf friend, he was certain the man would reach it soon regardless.
Orlando sought something to hold onto, fearing that if he gripped Dom’s head it would frighten him. Women had told them how little they liked doing what Dom was doing now, and he wasn’t about to force his best mate to swallow, thus he kept his hands far from his head, but he needed to grab something. He settled for his hand.
The hand holding Orlando down, keeping him from choking Dominic with excessive bucking, was suddenly removed and entwined in fingers. He looked up from his job at Orlando to see eyes staring right back. He squeezed the hand.
It was an effort not to thrust forward, but Orli would rather restrain himself than do that to his friend. The squeeze on his hand was comforting; an indication of trust, but brief and in passing, before Dom commenced eradicating Orlando’s ability to entertain conscious thoughts.
He used his tongue to stroke the underside of the shaft, and the end whenever he pulled back, and hollowed his cheeks whenever he had a good portion of the cock in his mouth. He sucked harder, loving the sound Orlando made when he pulled and sucked on the flesh.
The keens were getting higher and it was becoming more obvious that Orlando was having a hard time not bucking into his mouth. He writhed on the bed and mumbled under his breath, though Dom couldn’t decipher what he was saying. He was almost certain it was a different language. It wouldn’t be Elvish would it?
He drew the prick as far into his mouth as he was able, and relaxed his throat. “Jesus! Fuck!” He closed his throat around the skin and tried to control the gag reflex. Orlando shouted loudly and, when Dom swallowed, squeezed his fingers, body arching forward in an attempt to keep his hips firmly on the bed as his seed spurted hot and thick down the Englishman’s throat.
***
Was he dead?
Dom carefully wiped his mouth and licked his lips watching Orlando for signs of movement. He was prone on his back with his eyes closed, breathing slowing down to its normal rate after the moment of ecstasy.
Had he fallen asleep after that? He’d certainly been trashed enough to pass out. Dom frowned and clambered to the foot of the bed where he slid off and stood up. His cock was still painfully erect, but he picked up his pants as though to put them on.
“Where do you think you’re going?”
He spun to face the voice. Orlando was sitting up on the bed, legs still spread, and though his cock had regained its softness the way he looked, deliciously dishevelled, was tempting enough that Dom dropped his trousers.
“You didn’t think I’d forgotten about you, did you?”
His mouth opened stupidly, but Orlando’s smile was contagious. The other man stood from the bed, barely wobbling, despite the alcohol in his blood and the weak knees Dom was confident he’d given him.
Naked, Orlando looked more a predator than prey, and more voracious than usual. He seemed to tower over Dom, though he was only a few inches taller. Dom swallowed hard, feeling his own knees grow weak wondering what Orlando planned to do with him.
Orlando spoke quickly before capturing Dom’s mouth, and Dominic had no idea what he had said. A noise escaped from his throat that sounded more like a purr than a plea. Orli led him back to the bed, and before he realized, he was flat on his back with his best mate on top of him. He broke the kiss momentarily at the jabbing in his side.
“Wow,” he stated, pointedly looking down.
Orli shrugged, “It’s you.”
***
Dom threw his head back into the pillow and his hips shot off the bed involuntarily, but Orlando kept a firm hold on them, pushing them back down. His lips were the best kind of sin, and the things they were doing to his groin right now were even better.
His fingers laced through Orlando’s hair. It was lovely and long. Even though Dom recognized the boyish cuteness Orlando possessed with shorter hair, or a Mohawk, he couldn’t get enough of those dark curls. They fell in a curtain around his face while he worked, and shadowed his eyes in such a way that when he looked up, Dom wondered if he was the devil in disguise.
It was times like those, those quick glances, where Orlando did the most devious things, leaving Dom crying out, eyes snapping shut and body shivering and shaking all over. It was hard to keep from exploding down his lover’s throat, but just before he would, Orli would stop, ease off to let him catch his breath, and start again slowly.
His tongue drew lazy circles around the head of Dom’s cock, lips and cheeks pressing against the heated flesh to give much-desired pressure and glorious friction. The occasional scrape of teeth was the only evidence that Orlando had not mastered the art of cock sucking. Dom hoped he’d be the one to provide him practice.
Orlando pulled back as far as he could without the member falling from between his lips and circled the slit in the head of Dom’s prick with his tongue, lapping the small pearls of liquid that formed there. Dom groaned and writhed on the bed. The tongue drew more circles. It was gaining speed. Dom’s breathing was too rapid, too harsh. Sounds escaped with the wheeze of air and the gulp of more.
There was a hand on his balls, massaging them, stroking the sensitive base of his cock, coming perilously close to the entrance at his backside. The other hand, in addition to holding him down, was playing with the dark curls of his pubic hair, drawing up to his belly button, across his stomach and down again. Dom groaned and took a few deep breaths to ground himself.
When he opened his eyes, he almost died at the expression on Orlando’s face. His mouth went slack for a moment, as though he meant to say something, but he never got the chance.
Orlando sucked him into his mouth, down his throat, and was swallowing. His finger pushed back past the boundary of his ass cheeks, pressing firmly against the circle there. The pressure was delicious enough that Dom forgot his apprehension about being touched so intimately. The finger slid past the relaxed muscles of his anus and into the channel there. Dom cried out, eyes flying open, “Oh God! Please! Please! Orlando!” As the finger slid farther, Dom felt an overwhelming sense of needing to be full, and found himself barely able to maintain his restraint. The finger moved in just such a way that-
“Aaahh!” His climax was so violent that he almost threw Orlando off him as a result. Orlando swallowed reflexively, massaging the rest of the semen from Dom, whose only movement was a twitch or a sigh now and again.
Orlando was smiling when he swallowed the last. He crawled up Dom’s body resting beside him but leaning heavily on him. He kissed his jaw softly and Dom opened his eyes.
“Wow,” Orlando said.
Dom smiled and lifted his head to catch Orlando’s lips. “It’s you.”
Author: dejectedmadness
Warnings: Slash, you might get really really turned on.
Rating: NC-17 for SURE!!!
Pairing: This is why you would get really really turned on. Orlando Bloom/ Dominic Monaghan
Summary: This is a response to a challenge issued by tinkerbell_may a while ago. It had to contain two of several people listed in a pairing and the line: "If I were any more drunk, I’d probably end up in bed with you."
Disclaimer: If I owned them, I wouldn't have to write about this stuff. Heh.
Music blared, lights flashed, people brushed past in a flurry of colour, pressing against him, innocent or no, offering glasses of drinks he shouldn’t accept, and the promise of sex he shouldn’t want. It was too soon, too fresh, and too tactless to let his gaze linger too long on those breasts, or his crotch. He let his eyes flutter over skin and lips and fingers, caressing with his gaze what he’d get slapped for had his eyes been hands.
The corner looked so comforting, solitary, isolated. He could duck behind the potted plant and let his face fall, smile fade for just a minute, just ten seconds, but the slightest move away from one and subsequently toward another incited an attack, bombardment of protests, invitations, push and pull, left and right.
He shrugged them off, taking the drink and solitude he shouldn’t have allowed himself. Too soon, too tactlessly, he threw himself into the sway, the throes of publicity, stardom, and socialization. He shouldn’t be ready. He shouldn’t be here. The drink was gone in seconds.
“You look like you could use another.” British, crisp, lovely familiarity pulled his head around, longingly, but self-restraint held him back. Instead of an embrace, he settled for a smile.
“Been a while hasn’t it?” A soft grin tickled with sympathy appeared, lopsided on the once-hobbit’s face. “Shouldn’t let yourself stay away so long, mate.”
“Absence makes the heart grow fonder,” he smiled back.
Eyes, eyes, eyes, he must have had dozens of them and only two, but Orlando stared into them as though he thought Dominic might vanish should he blink. Was his pulse suddenly quicker?
“So I’ve heard.” His smile faded a little without seeming to have gone. Perhaps it was simply his eyes that fell, saddened. They were all Orlando could see anyway. If he looked away, well what might he look at? Not something he would like to be caught staring at in public without a great deal more alcohol in him, not that it would have taken much more anyhow.
“I’ve heard something else worth noting, also.” Orlando finally averted his eyes. An actor, surely, but nonetheless he could not make himself show the sadness he didn’t feel, especially not to Dom. He couldn’t play this part. “Are you all right?” As expected, the other Brit had mistaken the evasive-eye-manoeuvre to be his hiding glassy tears long enough to blink them away.
Orlando forced a smile, knowing how fake it looked, wondering if Dominic was fooled. “Can we talk outside?”
***
Another drink in him mightn’t have been a good idea, knowing how little the once-elf could hold in such a short span of time, but Dominic passed him some champagne and took some for himself.
As an actor, Orlando usually had him fooled, but the fake smile, the bright eyes, too wide, begging his belief only served to convince Dom how devastated his companion was. A broken engagement was never easy, least of all on the gullible. How Orli had not known she was a tramp to begin with, Dom couldn’t figure out. Rumours flew around everywhere, and even as little as he trusted the media, the general consensus was, “Bloom Broken-hearted - Bosworth: Bitch!”
Dom was under no delusions that Orli would tell him what had happened, but perhaps he just needed someone to tell how much it hurt. Maybe he could be that person for him. “God willing….” He left the prayer unasked, almost laughing to himself at the thought of praying for such a thing.
They walked outside, breathing the fresh cool air, exhaling smoke and the stench of fancy drinks and expensive perfume from the interior of the building. The stars might have been bright tonight, but Dom could not see them in the city. He wished he could.
Orlando let the glass hover near his lips but didn’t drink. His eyes were blank. He looked at Dominic.
“How have you been?” Delayed as it may have been, Dom was flattered at his friend’s consideration, unfailing, even when his mind was clearly occupied with its own dark thoughts.
“Suviving, you know. Business is going well.” He laughed. Orlando seemed genuinely pleased to hear him speak about normal things.
“I’ve seen you on the telly a few times, on that show… people stranded on an island….”
“Lost, yeah. They’re airing it bloody everywhere now.”
Had he watched the show? Did he like it? Was he watching to see Dom, or did he just catch it on once or twice?
He forced the thoughts away, mentally scolding his pulse to slow down. The last thing he needed was heart failure from trying to keep the blood from rushing to his groin. Could that happen?
“But you don’t seem to be doing too bad yourself mister Pirates of the Caribbean sequels, blacksmith from the crusades epic movie. Not just an elf with erroneous lines anymore.”
“They weren’t erroneous! They were good lines. Very informative and… and descriptive.”
“‘They run as if the very whips of their masters were behind them….’” Dom raised his eyebrow.
“Very informative,” Orlando insisted.
The argument didn’t last. They never did. It was different from Dom and Elijah, or even Dom and Bills. Make one smart remark to either of them and you’re arguing for days about the merits of marbles for glass eyes. Not so with Orli.
As the elf, he probably shouldn’t have gotten on so well with the hobbits, but Sean, the father and husband, was often away doing his own thing, being the grown-up or what have you. It was only sensible that the other twenty-something in the cast would take his place.
Rumour had it, Dom knew, that he and Billy were the closest, best mates, still chatting and getting together for a drink now and again, but to Dominic, the closest relationship forged, and by far the most meaningful, was between himself and the man who wore blonde wigs and spoke to trees when they were first acquainted.
The same age, with the same interests in film and music, it was reasonable that they always got on. What was not so reasonable was the reaction Dom’s body had when his new best mate was in close proximity, or at least that was what he told himself.
But honestly, he thought, who would not have gotten hard to the thought of those dark eyes staring back at him the way he knew he must stare at them, or the mental image of those thin dark lips closing over his cock while his hands fisted the silky curls? He couldn’t help that he fancied the pretty elvish bloke. He could only hope that it wasn’t too obvious.
***
Dom was staring at him, but it didn’t seem he was fishing for something to say; the silence was too comfortable for that kind of tension. He might be considering his words, but his face was too carefully blank for the possibility of reading his expression, so Orli just stared back.
Orlando didn’t know his friend’s straight credentials, but he made the assumption all men and women make- that Dom was straight as an arrow. Regardless, the man had to be comfortable with his sexuality judging by the way he wore his hair, carefully mussed, held in place by gel or wax, the light eyeliner he wore, and even the extravagant mismatched clothes, with pinks and purples as well as blacks, browns, and blues, enough of both masculine and feminine colours to be ambiguous. He dared you to ask; the look said, “Come find out for yourself.”
Orlando almost licked his lips unconsciously, but became aware of the movement before it was made. Fuck, he wanted to take that challenge. How easy would it be? Just to grab him behind the head, pull him forward, it would be so easy. Just press his lips to those before him, thrust his tongue between them, and God, it would feel so good to just take.
Orlando’s Adam’s apple bobbed when he swallowed, trying to suppress the rising urge, the desire, and the blood rushing to his cock. He let his eyes slide up to the lips on which he’d been focused before to find them moving.
“Orlando, are you feeling all right?” The voice echoed as if through a drum. The Brit had to focus on the movement of the mouth and was, even then, slow to reply.
His mouth was too dry. “I need something to drink.”
Dom barked a laugh. “I don’t know, mate,” he said. Regardless, Orlando grabbed a drink off a passing tray. He was conscious of Dominic’s jaw dropping as the burning alcohol rushed down his throat and he discarded the glass. “If you have much more to drink,” he cautioned, spinning in Orlando’s head, “you’ll end up in bed with a throbbing head tomorrow.”
In bed, Orlando caught, throbbing. His breath quickened with the images those words put in his mind, the propositions that sprang to his tongue in relation to those thoughts. Then, before he realized, the words were there, his mouth gaping, exhaling the rest of the oxygen, which hadn’t come out with them, and the sound of his own voice rang in his ears.
“If I were any more drunk, I’d probably end up in bed with you.”
***
Had he just said that? What had he meant? Was it a sling or an invitation? His mouth gaped, the pause growing until it’s meaning could be construed as nothing but the sexual tension and grammatical confusion that it was. Did he dare ask clarification, or maybe laugh? Orlando might be drunk enough to think his inebriated senses imagined this huge tense hesitation, but did he risk it? Was it too late to pretend those simple words didn’t leave him in the void between being hurt by the mocking and hopefulness?
“What do you think?” Orlando whispered, his voice rumbling and low, sending vibrations through Dom’s body and shivers up his spine. “Should I have another before we go?”
***
“Oh God,” as a shirt suddenly disappeared and lips found warm skin, pulsing with the hot blood rushing beneath it to fuel his body’s rising passion. The room spun even as Dom’s back hit the sheets and grounded him, until Orlando’s hands found his bare skin, and then the room was gone.
A tongue dipped into the sensitive hollows of the man’s chest, neck and arms. The unfeminine bristles of Orlando’s face scratching against his triceps sent another jolt of adrenaline straight to his groin and he found himself wondering if he had ever been hard before. Could any other turn on possibly have left him this stiff and needy? It was impossible not to arch into the hot, unfortunately partially clothed body pressing him against the bed. The noise that escaped his throat didn’t sound human in the remotest sense, though it was in a language that all cultures could decipher.
His hands were clumsy. Orli knew that it wasn’t just lust that confused his movements, and he cursed the amount of alcohol he had in him right then. He tried to undo the buttons on Dom’s shirt, but found himself only getting in the way when Dom deftly relieved himself of it with one hand. Was it strange that Orlando found it irresistible that the man could function as well with his left hand as with his right?
When the obstruction was gone, it was easier, by far. With solid flesh, warm and yielding, in his grasp, Orlando didn’t need his sight anymore to guide him. He knew how to touch, how to slide his fingers against hot skin and into hollows, over bumps on the body, holding him down, to persuade gasps from his lover. With the blood echoing in his ears, it was difficult to hear the lapses of breath when his fingers brushed over sensitive nipples and gripped the man’s sides.
Dom fumbled with the waistband of Orli’s boxers, telling his fingers to work like they were intended to. They snaked inside and pulled the offensive material away from his prize with relative ease. The taller man was holding himself up, off Dom such that sufficient room was granted to the lighter-haired man to grip Orli’s considerable straining flesh. Dom barely touched Orlando, encouraging him to arch into the long fingers, which he did with an audible moan. Dom allowed one hand to slide back and cup his sac while the other proceeded to provide just enough friction against the dark prick to elicit pleas from Orli.
“Dominic,” he breathed, “touch me.”
It was forgotten, as simply as that. The fight, the break up, the irritation, the secret lust, the lies, the discomfort, all vanished under the light of the stars through the bay window with the slide of skin on skin.
Suddenly, Orlando was on his back and Dom pressed his lips to the bare chest, his tongue straining to draw the nipple into his mouth, lips closing around it and teeth gently drawing across its hardness. Orli’s straining member was pressing into his stomach, and with each pleasurable action, with each groan, it pulsed, begging for attention. Dominic intended to pay it due consideration as soon as he had its owner incoherent with desire.
Orli fisted the sheets as Dom’s hands caressed his thighs, loving the feel of the hair sliding between his fingers and the smooth skin, a contrast to its roughness, underneath. He cried out when Dom bit down particularly hard on his firm stomach, then sighed when his tongue laved the sore area with care.
Dominic slid lower, hot breath sliding over his lover’s throbbing cock. He hovered above it, wanting to take it, imagining the taste, texture, and how it would feel in his mouth. At the last second he turned his head and drew his tongue up the crease between Orlando’s groin and his thigh, using teeth tentatively, and allowing his hands to slide underneath him, gripping his backside and dipping fingers into the sensitive crevice of his ass.
“Dom… oh God,” his voice was high and desperate. He lifted his hips to meet Dominic’s lips, but immediately pressed them back down into the hands touching his bottom. Dom smiled into the next kiss, stroking Orli’s perineum. The next sound from Orlando’s throat was a hoarse sigh and a slightly high-pitched cry. “Dominic, oh fuck, please… uh! Please!”
Dom turned his head back toward Orlando’s cock and with one quick movement engulfed the thing. He moaned with Orlando, who moaned twice as loud at the vibrations that accompanied the sound. With one hand holding Orli’s hips to the bed, his other hand continued to roam. He traced the head with his tongue, savouring the taste of the liquid that was seeping from the end, not finding it disgusting as he had feared. He hollowed his cheeks and pulled the cock farther down his throat.
Dom did on Orlando what he knew he liked done on himself. He never stayed doing one thing too long, knowing that the constant change would prolong the climax and prevent boredom, but with the keening coming from his elf friend, he was certain the man would reach it soon regardless.
Orlando sought something to hold onto, fearing that if he gripped Dom’s head it would frighten him. Women had told them how little they liked doing what Dom was doing now, and he wasn’t about to force his best mate to swallow, thus he kept his hands far from his head, but he needed to grab something. He settled for his hand.
The hand holding Orlando down, keeping him from choking Dominic with excessive bucking, was suddenly removed and entwined in fingers. He looked up from his job at Orlando to see eyes staring right back. He squeezed the hand.
It was an effort not to thrust forward, but Orli would rather restrain himself than do that to his friend. The squeeze on his hand was comforting; an indication of trust, but brief and in passing, before Dom commenced eradicating Orlando’s ability to entertain conscious thoughts.
He used his tongue to stroke the underside of the shaft, and the end whenever he pulled back, and hollowed his cheeks whenever he had a good portion of the cock in his mouth. He sucked harder, loving the sound Orlando made when he pulled and sucked on the flesh.
The keens were getting higher and it was becoming more obvious that Orlando was having a hard time not bucking into his mouth. He writhed on the bed and mumbled under his breath, though Dom couldn’t decipher what he was saying. He was almost certain it was a different language. It wouldn’t be Elvish would it?
He drew the prick as far into his mouth as he was able, and relaxed his throat. “Jesus! Fuck!” He closed his throat around the skin and tried to control the gag reflex. Orlando shouted loudly and, when Dom swallowed, squeezed his fingers, body arching forward in an attempt to keep his hips firmly on the bed as his seed spurted hot and thick down the Englishman’s throat.
***
Was he dead?
Dom carefully wiped his mouth and licked his lips watching Orlando for signs of movement. He was prone on his back with his eyes closed, breathing slowing down to its normal rate after the moment of ecstasy.
Had he fallen asleep after that? He’d certainly been trashed enough to pass out. Dom frowned and clambered to the foot of the bed where he slid off and stood up. His cock was still painfully erect, but he picked up his pants as though to put them on.
“Where do you think you’re going?”
He spun to face the voice. Orlando was sitting up on the bed, legs still spread, and though his cock had regained its softness the way he looked, deliciously dishevelled, was tempting enough that Dom dropped his trousers.
“You didn’t think I’d forgotten about you, did you?”
His mouth opened stupidly, but Orlando’s smile was contagious. The other man stood from the bed, barely wobbling, despite the alcohol in his blood and the weak knees Dom was confident he’d given him.
Naked, Orlando looked more a predator than prey, and more voracious than usual. He seemed to tower over Dom, though he was only a few inches taller. Dom swallowed hard, feeling his own knees grow weak wondering what Orlando planned to do with him.
Orlando spoke quickly before capturing Dom’s mouth, and Dominic had no idea what he had said. A noise escaped from his throat that sounded more like a purr than a plea. Orli led him back to the bed, and before he realized, he was flat on his back with his best mate on top of him. He broke the kiss momentarily at the jabbing in his side.
“Wow,” he stated, pointedly looking down.
Orli shrugged, “It’s you.”
***
Dom threw his head back into the pillow and his hips shot off the bed involuntarily, but Orlando kept a firm hold on them, pushing them back down. His lips were the best kind of sin, and the things they were doing to his groin right now were even better.
His fingers laced through Orlando’s hair. It was lovely and long. Even though Dom recognized the boyish cuteness Orlando possessed with shorter hair, or a Mohawk, he couldn’t get enough of those dark curls. They fell in a curtain around his face while he worked, and shadowed his eyes in such a way that when he looked up, Dom wondered if he was the devil in disguise.
It was times like those, those quick glances, where Orlando did the most devious things, leaving Dom crying out, eyes snapping shut and body shivering and shaking all over. It was hard to keep from exploding down his lover’s throat, but just before he would, Orli would stop, ease off to let him catch his breath, and start again slowly.
His tongue drew lazy circles around the head of Dom’s cock, lips and cheeks pressing against the heated flesh to give much-desired pressure and glorious friction. The occasional scrape of teeth was the only evidence that Orlando had not mastered the art of cock sucking. Dom hoped he’d be the one to provide him practice.
Orlando pulled back as far as he could without the member falling from between his lips and circled the slit in the head of Dom’s prick with his tongue, lapping the small pearls of liquid that formed there. Dom groaned and writhed on the bed. The tongue drew more circles. It was gaining speed. Dom’s breathing was too rapid, too harsh. Sounds escaped with the wheeze of air and the gulp of more.
There was a hand on his balls, massaging them, stroking the sensitive base of his cock, coming perilously close to the entrance at his backside. The other hand, in addition to holding him down, was playing with the dark curls of his pubic hair, drawing up to his belly button, across his stomach and down again. Dom groaned and took a few deep breaths to ground himself.
When he opened his eyes, he almost died at the expression on Orlando’s face. His mouth went slack for a moment, as though he meant to say something, but he never got the chance.
Orlando sucked him into his mouth, down his throat, and was swallowing. His finger pushed back past the boundary of his ass cheeks, pressing firmly against the circle there. The pressure was delicious enough that Dom forgot his apprehension about being touched so intimately. The finger slid past the relaxed muscles of his anus and into the channel there. Dom cried out, eyes flying open, “Oh God! Please! Please! Orlando!” As the finger slid farther, Dom felt an overwhelming sense of needing to be full, and found himself barely able to maintain his restraint. The finger moved in just such a way that-
“Aaahh!” His climax was so violent that he almost threw Orlando off him as a result. Orlando swallowed reflexively, massaging the rest of the semen from Dom, whose only movement was a twitch or a sigh now and again.
Orlando was smiling when he swallowed the last. He crawled up Dom’s body resting beside him but leaning heavily on him. He kissed his jaw softly and Dom opened his eyes.
“Wow,” Orlando said.
Dom smiled and lifted his head to catch Orlando’s lips. “It’s you.”