FIC: Married (2/3) Eric Bana/Orlando Bloom, R
This fic is COMPLETE!! It just turned out that part 2 was so long I made it into two parts so now it's a three-parter.
Title: Married, Part (2/3)
Pairing: Eric Bana/Orlando Bloom
Author: shrinetolust
Rated: R
Story: The continuing tale of two hot men. Orlando is still pretty. Eric is still married. Brad and Bean stir the pot.
Disclaimer: Don't know these lovely men, don't know what they get up to in their free time. This is all part of my overactive imagination, done with love and respect, and no harm or offense is intended. It's FICTION!!
Feedback: Yes, please...this one caused me a lot of angst!! I think it's much improved from earlier drafts but I've read it so many times now I've lost all objectivity! ~ Leave a note here or mail me at shrinetolust AT hotmail.com
Crossposted: banabloom, banalando and orlandoslash. I am a feedback whore.
Archive: My own LJ. Others, please ask.
Notes: Many thanks and HUGE SQUISHY HUGS and sloppy kisses to perseph2hades, for slaving over the beta and offering invaluable assistance. Any cohesiveness the fic has is thanks to her guidance...all remaining fuck-ups are my own! Please point out any glaring spelling/grammar errors so I'm not embarrassed for too long!
WARNINGS: Some more filthy language and acknowlegement of het relationships.
**It's really best if you read **PART 1** first.
Part 2:
~~
You're fucking me...your hands are on my hips, and you're holding me while you push into me...
Eric accelerated into the turn, the tires squealing as they struggled to grip the road.
Oh God...pushing into me with that fucking huge cock...
His eyes practically watered and his fingers tightened around the steering wheel. He'd be lucky if he didn't smash up the car and kill them both.
Orlando had been dutifully quiet the entire time, silent while he'd dressed for dinner and run gel through his unruly curls, silent as he followed Eric down the hall to the elevator, silent as they left the hotel and got into the car. Silent even as Eric pretended he was on the Autobahn and barely missed running down several pedestrians on the narrow streets.
Fuck me...please...say it, Eric. Say you want me. Say you want to come inside me...
Eric actually groaned aloud, and out of the corner of his eye saw Orlando looking at him. He knew that little furrow would be resting apprehensively between the dark brows; it had been there from the time Eric left the bathroom and hadn't disappeared since. He hated that wounded look in Orlando's eyes, because it made him want to wrap Orlando in his arms and tell him everything was all right.
But it wasn't. It wasn't all right. Flirting, looking, casual touches...that could all be written off and not worried over. But the shower...Orlando naked and panting and--and the way they'd spoken to one another. That couldn't be easily swept under the rug of plausible deniability. That was out there.
They were almost at the restaurant, and Eric knew he had to do something, say something, anything. There was no way he was going to be able to get through dinner with this hanging over them. He'd actually thought of canceling, but knew that would be unfair to Orlando.
It wasn't as if the kid had done anything wrong, and Eric hadn't exactly run away screaming. He hadn't exactly run away at all. He'd stood right there, had looked and lusted and gotten a hard-on that felt like a lead pipe in his shorts. There wasn't really any way for him to point a finger at Orlando and blame him for anything that had gone on.
And he didn't want to blame anybody. His mind kept circling around the fact that it had felt fucking good, and he generally went with his gut on just about everything. He didn't have any big list of moral truths that he followed to the letter--you just marched along and did what felt right.
And what felt right, here and now, was to get that damn little crease out of the kid's forehead.
~~
Eric parked the car in the sandy area that served as a general lot for the street. He looked around as they walked, sunglasses on against the setting sun. There hadn't been much paparazzi around, though of course you never knew.
When he recognized the stone façade of the restaurant they were headed to, he pushed Orlando into a narrow alleyway between the buildings. He snaked an arm around the kid's neck and pulled him close, looking over the top of his head as he spoke. "We're okay, you know? I just wanted to tell you."
Orlando just stood there a moment, arms at his sides. Then he tilted his head up. "Then why won't you look at me?"
Eric sighed, examining the crumbling brick on the wall behind Orlando. He supposed honesty was the best course. "Because, if I look at you--" he lowered his voice, whispering softly into the dark curls that had fallen over Orlando's forehead-- "I'll get a fucking hard-on, and then I won't be able to go into the restaurant."
There was a few seconds’ pause, then Orlando snickered, and one hand came up and rested on Eric's chest. "You need to learn to wear longer shirts, mate."
"Yeah, well, they make me look fat." He squeezed Orlando's shoulder.
Then a shadow fell across them, and they both instinctively put their hands in front of their faces.
"Jesus, guys, get a room," Brad's voice echoed over to them. "I don't want to get calls from the papers about this tomorrow."
Eric moved with lightning quickness and hooked Brad around the neck, dragging him into the alleyway and up against both of them. "Oh, darling!" he exclaimed, planting a wet smack on Brad's cheek.
"Shut the fuck up--yow!" Brad howled and jumped back as Orlando slapped him on the ass. "You two--fuckers!" he growled, half-choked with laughter as he disentangled himself from their pawing hands. "For fuck's sake, get inside before we draw a fucking crowd."
"Whatever you say, mate," Eric chuckled, following him back onto the sidewalk.
Orlando walked next to him as they made their way to the front door of the restaurant. "And I thought I said 'fuck' a lot," he grinned.
"You fucking do," Brad huffed, holding open the door. "Now get the fuck in there."
**
The lighting inside the tunnel-like restaurant was dim, hanging lights casting shadows over the dark brick. Eric carefully lifted his large feet as he walked over the uneven cobblestone floor, weaving in between the closely-packed tables. One false move and he'd trip and end up right across someone's dinner.
They soon found themselves in the even darker and smaller room at the back, where a few half-circle booths were tucked against the walls.
"Well, look at this bastard," Brad mumbled, glancing back at his two friends with a smirk.
Eric looked over Orlando's shoulder and saw that Bean was already there, sitting like a king in the middle of the padded leather curve of the booth, one arm wrapped around Saffron, the other around Rose. Rose's cheeks were pink and she was staring at Sean as if he were the only thing on the menu in her eyes. Eric wondered how the man did it.
"How nice of you to join us," Saffron said, looking relaxed and with a small smile playing about her lips.
"Well, these two were making out in an alley," Brad joked, sliding into the booth next to Rose. "It took a while to split them up."
Eric folded himself up and squeezed in next to Saffron while the others laughed. He leaned over and said quietly, "He tried to split us up, but then he just joined in." As Saffron kissed his cheek, he saw Orlando was still standing, and seemed to be looking for something.
"You lose something, mate?" he asked.
"Just thought I might find a chair to pull up."
"Well, that's nonsense. There's room, isn't there?"
Everyone agreed that there was, and Rose had no problem moving closer to Brad on one side and dragging Sean up tight next to her on the other. Saffron scooted over and Eric followed, leaving just enough space for Orlando to sit down.
Orlando hesitated for a moment, then joined them in the booth. The moment his body pressed against Eric's, and those dark eyes gazed up at him, Eric felt his cock spring to life. He practically whimpered, staring at the perfection that was Orlando, fighting the desperate urge to clear everything off of the table with a swipe of his arm and take the kid right there.
Orlando smiled sweetly at him and Eric swallowed hard. Getting through dinner without incident was going to be a tricky fucking affair.
~~
By dessert, Eric had decided that there were in fact Greek gods in existence, that he had pissed them off, and now they were trying to kill him.
Brad grinned at him across the table as, for the fiftieth time that night, Saffron leaned over Eric's lap to eat off Orlando's fork. The two of them had been at it all through dinner, Oh you've got to try this Orli...Oh, Saffron, taste the spices on this... Each time, one or the other would lean over, a hand on his thigh, Saffron's silky hair brushing across his arm, Orlando's lips sliding along the fork right in front of his eyes. He was so hard he thought his pants were going to explode at any moment.
"Looks like we're chopped liver tonight," Brad chuckled, causing both Rose and Saffron to look at him.
"What do you mean?" Rose asked, her cherubic face in a permanent state of excited flush.
"What do I mean?" Brad looked at her with feigned distress. "You've been hand-feeding Bean his entire dinner, and Saffron and Orlando have been using Eric as a table all night." He pouted. "We're feeling a bit left out." He sniffed and wiped away an invisible tear.
Sean laughed. "Guess we need to bring more girls next time, for these two cry-babies." He tore off a hunk of bread and extended it to Brad. "Here ya go, love."
Brad leaned forward and chomped down on it, laughing around the mouthful of bread as Sean yelped.
"He bit me fingers!" Sean exclaimed, but didn't have much time to complain as Rose pressed her lips to them and kissed them all better. In fact, he seemed incapable of speech at that moment.
I know how he feels, Eric thought, then turned when he felt Saffron's hand on his arm.
"You should have said something," Saffron smiled up at him, her beautiful eyes shining in the pale light of the restaurant. "You can share." She stabbed a piece of fruit and extended it to Orlando, who grabbed it with his teeth, then she moved to get another piece for Eric.
But Orlando hadn't eaten his slice yet; he was still holding it between his lips and his head was tilted up towards Eric. He batted his eyelashes a few times, and then made a slight noise in his throat that was probably a thwarted giggle.
Saffron had stopped her fork mid-air, and all eyes on the table were now on Eric and Orlando. Rose was already giggling, and Eric could see Bean and Brad out of the corner of his eye, two grinning idiots.
It's all a joke, right? After all, Brad had bit Sean's fingers and no one was looking at them strangely. And there was Orlando, pale red fruit held by his perfect white teeth, with that little bit of juice starting to trickle down his chin.
And Eric's mouth was over Orlando's before he even realized he had moved. Everyone at the table howled, and Orlando gurgled underneath him as his teeth bit down, scraping Orlando's lips as he retrieved his half of the fruit. He opened his mouth wide enough to slurp up the escaping juice, and gave Orlando's lips one last swipe of his tongue before pulling back.
"Well, you're right, Saffie," he said casually between chews, "that's definitely some tasty stuff right there."
Saffron hit him in the arm as the others continued to laugh. "You're terrible!"
Orlando was blushing feverishly, now, giggling with the rest of them, but his eyes never left Eric's. "I can't believe you did that," he murmured, licking his lips.
Eric watched the red tongue slip out and thought again about clearing off the table. "Well, you offered, mate."
"I did," Orlando said, and his gaze didn't waver. "I did offer."
~~
Eric had to admire the kid's thoughtfulness. When they got up to leave the restaurant, and then stood in the street to say goodbye to everyone, Orlando managed in several different ways to always be standing in front of Eric. Hiding certain aspects of him from view. Eric wanted to kiss him. He'd learned his fucking lesson, that was for sure...he was going to have to dig out a few of his longer shirts. Either that or just say fuck it and let everyone have an eyeful, but he wasn't quite there yet.
Orlando was quiet again in the car, leaning back and looking out his window, his hand resting casually on Eric's thigh. Eric tried not to think too much about those long fingers touching him, instead focusing on the pattern of streets that led back to the hotel. He watched the rows of buildings going by, taking in all the scantily dressed people milling around, moving between the dimly lit but roaringly loud bars and clubs.
He gave the car over to the valet once they arrived, happy to hand over the keys. He was more tired than he remembered being on even more rigorous days of shooting. Too much fucking excitement, he reflected. Too many fucking hours of unsatiated lust, a voice from lower retorted.
It only got worse as they made their way down the hall. Eric knew they would be at Orlando's door soon, and the closer they got, the stronger the memories of the shower became.
I can feel your chest against my back, your arm tight across me...
Eric felt hot, sweat trickling down between his shoulder blades, and he wondered when the hallway had gotten narrower. His breath hitched as he watched Orlando saunter down the hall, sinewy sensual grace adorably interrupted by the occasional bout of clumsy imbalance that made him weave towards one wall or the other.
Say you want me...say you want to come inside me...
When Orlando got to his door he leaned against it and looked up at Eric, eyes a little starry and a small hopeful smile playing about his lips. "Do you want to come in for a bit?" he asked, his voice pitched for Eric's ears only.
Yes, yes, God, YES. But no. Yet he continued to stand there, waiting, watching, unable to leave. He put a hand on the door, above Orlando's shoulder, and leaned on it. He looked down at him, knowing there was a very fine line between them, knowing that all it would take was one little push and he'd be in the damn kid's room, ravishing him.
Orlando seemed to sense his dilemma, and the worried expression appeared again. "I don't know if I've had a chance to illustrate this yet," he whispered, sliding against the door as he had against the wet shower wall, "but I'm a very patient and understanding person."
And Eric smiled. "I know you are." He tried to think of something to say, something that made sense. "Orlando, I--"
Orlando put two fingers over Eric's mouth to quiet him. "We're all right, anyway. That's what you said, right?" He let his hand drop back down to his side and waited.
"Yeah, we're all right," Eric agreed, his tension easing slightly. "So does that mean you're gonna get rid of that little wrinkle in your forehead?"
"What wrinkle?" Orlando asked.
"That one," Eric said, leaning further in and pressing his lips to the furrow in the kid's brow. "You kill me with that thing," he mumbled against the warm skin.
Orlando squirmed against him. "I'll have to remember that."
"Remember that I don't want to see it again," Eric growled, grabbing Orlando's chin and doing his best to give him the dark and crazy-eyed look.
Orlando responded with a deer-in-headlights look, which at least smoothed out his damn forehead. "I'll try," he said softly.
"All right, then." And Eric backed up, even though it killed a small part of him to do so. "I'll be seeing you tomorrow, bright and early, right?"
"Bright and early," Orlando repeated, obviously struggling to look cheerful. "See you then, mate."
Eric tried to look happy, too. "G'night, Orlando." He tore his eyes away from the handsome face and warm body that was so seductively pressed against the hard surface of the door...stop, stop, must stop thinking like that.
He walked down the hall and got out the key to his own room. When he'd opened the door he heard Orlando's voice echoing quietly down the hall..."G'night Eric," but when he looked over, Orlando's door was already closing.
"We're all right," Eric muttered as he walked into his room. "Totally fucking all right."
~~
Eric kicked at the sand. It had been a fucking miserable week, lying in bed every night with a fucking hard-on, hours going by until sheer exhaustion carried him into sleep. A shower and a wank would have solved the problem each time, but he'd been afraid of who he'd be thinking of when he did it. Things were getting crazy. He was acting like some fucking horny teenager. He was an adult, dammit, and he had to start acting like one. He had a wife and responsibilities. The life of illicit shags in hotel rooms during filming was not one for him. Especially fucking another guy. He was long past his drunk and experimental phase, and there was no excuse for the nonsense that had been going on in his head.
It was some kind of obsession, this thing with Orlando. It was insane, the weak-kneed feeling he got every time he looked at the kid. And after all, he was just a kid. Eric should be sticking with the big brother role he was suited for, not thinking ridiculously filthy thoughts about how Orlando's slender body would feel as he pressed him into the bed with his full weight, holding the boy down...
Fuck. Married, Eric, remember you're married. He clutched at his hair, then quickly released it, knowing they'd be up for their shot soon and he didn't want the hair and make-up people getting all over his case. He ventured a glance at Orlando, who was some distance away, stretching and preparing himself for his fight scene with Menelaus.
Looking at him just then turned out to be a huge mistake, because the kid bent over to touch his toes and stretch his legs, the stiff armor-like skirt flaring up to expose a healthy portion of his tautly muscled thighs.
"Fuck, I hate it when he does that."
Eric nearly jumped at the voice and turned to find Bean next to him, staring pointedly at Orlando. "What?"
"You know how much I love the ladies--"
Eric snorted. "And how much they love you."
Sean grinned. "Aye, but that--" he pointed at Orlando's bent form-- "makes me cock twitch when he does that."
Eric nearly choked, staring at him with wide eyes. "What?" he said again.
Sean was laughing now. He leaned in close, keeping his voice low. "Do ya know what it was like on Rings? Him all slender and graceful, trotting around on those long legs with that blonde hair flowing down his back?" He shook his head. "Does strange things to you, it does. If I were ever to shag a bloke, that one there--" he pointed again-- "he'd be it."
Eric just continued staring at him, mouth slightly open.
"And maybe you, with those nice pecs of yours," Sean added, thumping Eric's armor with his fist and then walking away, chortling.
And Eric finally found his voice, calling out after him, "I thought that crazy Mortensen guy was more your type!"
Sean paused and turned back, rubbing his chin and seeming to think on it. "Yeah, I suppose him, too." He grinned his special feral-eyed grin and shrugged casually. "Guess I'm not so straight as I thought." He managed not to burst into laughter again, at least not until he had turned back around and started up the hill to where his armies were waiting.
"Bastard," Eric grumbled. This was getting ridiculous. If one more person said something to him about fucking Orlando he was going to blow a gasket. Especially since he couldn't take his damn eyes off the kid's backside. How many stretches did he think he had to do, anyway? Wasn't someone going to make him stop?
He was lost in his thoughts and barely noticed when Brad came and stood next to him. "Hey."
Eric tried to keep his voice steady. "Hey yourself."
Brad looked at him, then looked at Orlando, who was now on all fours, looking like he was waiting for the pistol shot at a relay race. "So," Brad said quietly, voice liquid and smooth, "Are you reminiscing, or still just longing for it?"
Eric didn't answer, just growled and shoved Brad hard in the shoulder, simultaneously kneeing the back of his leg. Brad crumpled to the ground with a thud, armor smacking the sand and causing a mini cloud to rise up around him.
After a moment of sputtering and a surprised laugh, Brad rolled over onto his back, squinting up at Eric with a knowing grin. "I told you it would drive you crazy, man."
Eric just shook his head and laughed at himself, leaning forward to offer Brad a hand. "That one was for Hector."
Brad snorted and let Eric help him to his feet. He brushed off his breastplate, coughing as the sand again flew into his face.
None of the staff had noticed Brad's fall, thankfully, but Eric looked up to find Orlando staring at them. Even at this distance, he could tell the evil furrow had reappeared. "Wave at him, will ya?" Eric asked, raising his own hand.
Brad complied, then Orlando smiled hesitantly and waved back at them.
"I knew I shouldn't have come over here after Sean walked away with that shit-eating grin of his," Brad said, combing his fingers through his long hair.
Eric grinned sheepishly. "Sorry mate, just bad timing on your part." He closed his eyes and rubbed his forehead. "You know that I dreamt last night--had a fucking nightmare--that Bean was making out with my wife?"
"Well, why didn't you fucking take him out at the knees?"
Eric shrugged, folding his arms across his chest and kicking at the sand again. "It was just a dream."
Brad stood in silence for a moment, then said, "So, what if you dreamt it was Rose instead of Sean?"
"Huh?" Eric looked back up. "What do you mean, Rose?"
"Rose and your wife?" Brad wagged a finger at him. "Don't lie, now."
Eric had to laugh, and he thought his cheeks were probably getting red. "Well, fuck, that'd be a pretty damn good dream. But don't tell my wife I said that."
Brad grinned. "Scout's honor. So there's a difference, right?"
"Well fuck, yeah, there's a difference. What's your point?"
Brad patted him on the arm. "I'm not spelling this one out for you, man. I'll see you at lunch."
Eric just stood and watched him walk away, and then his gaze traveled up to the top of the hill where Sean stood in full battle gear, talking to Rose, whose body language spoke of wanting to be taken prisoner and become Odysseus' fucking love slave. His eyes wandered between them, from broad shoulders and muscled legs to soft curves and dark flowing hair.
Then he turned back around and looked from his own broad shoulders over to Orlando's muscled legs, and a little light bulb went on over his head.
Fuck yeah, there's a difference.
~~Go on to **PART 3**
Title: Married, Part (2/3)
Pairing: Eric Bana/Orlando Bloom
Author: shrinetolust
Rated: R
Story: The continuing tale of two hot men. Orlando is still pretty. Eric is still married. Brad and Bean stir the pot.
Disclaimer: Don't know these lovely men, don't know what they get up to in their free time. This is all part of my overactive imagination, done with love and respect, and no harm or offense is intended. It's FICTION!!
Feedback: Yes, please...this one caused me a lot of angst!! I think it's much improved from earlier drafts but I've read it so many times now I've lost all objectivity! ~ Leave a note here or mail me at shrinetolust AT hotmail.com
Crossposted: banabloom, banalando and orlandoslash. I am a feedback whore.
Archive: My own LJ. Others, please ask.
Notes: Many thanks and HUGE SQUISHY HUGS and sloppy kisses to perseph2hades, for slaving over the beta and offering invaluable assistance. Any cohesiveness the fic has is thanks to her guidance...all remaining fuck-ups are my own! Please point out any glaring spelling/grammar errors so I'm not embarrassed for too long!
WARNINGS: Some more filthy language and acknowlegement of het relationships.
**It's really best if you read **PART 1** first.
Part 2:
~~
You're fucking me...your hands are on my hips, and you're holding me while you push into me...
Eric accelerated into the turn, the tires squealing as they struggled to grip the road.
Oh God...pushing into me with that fucking huge cock...
His eyes practically watered and his fingers tightened around the steering wheel. He'd be lucky if he didn't smash up the car and kill them both.
Orlando had been dutifully quiet the entire time, silent while he'd dressed for dinner and run gel through his unruly curls, silent as he followed Eric down the hall to the elevator, silent as they left the hotel and got into the car. Silent even as Eric pretended he was on the Autobahn and barely missed running down several pedestrians on the narrow streets.
Fuck me...please...say it, Eric. Say you want me. Say you want to come inside me...
Eric actually groaned aloud, and out of the corner of his eye saw Orlando looking at him. He knew that little furrow would be resting apprehensively between the dark brows; it had been there from the time Eric left the bathroom and hadn't disappeared since. He hated that wounded look in Orlando's eyes, because it made him want to wrap Orlando in his arms and tell him everything was all right.
But it wasn't. It wasn't all right. Flirting, looking, casual touches...that could all be written off and not worried over. But the shower...Orlando naked and panting and--and the way they'd spoken to one another. That couldn't be easily swept under the rug of plausible deniability. That was out there.
They were almost at the restaurant, and Eric knew he had to do something, say something, anything. There was no way he was going to be able to get through dinner with this hanging over them. He'd actually thought of canceling, but knew that would be unfair to Orlando.
It wasn't as if the kid had done anything wrong, and Eric hadn't exactly run away screaming. He hadn't exactly run away at all. He'd stood right there, had looked and lusted and gotten a hard-on that felt like a lead pipe in his shorts. There wasn't really any way for him to point a finger at Orlando and blame him for anything that had gone on.
And he didn't want to blame anybody. His mind kept circling around the fact that it had felt fucking good, and he generally went with his gut on just about everything. He didn't have any big list of moral truths that he followed to the letter--you just marched along and did what felt right.
And what felt right, here and now, was to get that damn little crease out of the kid's forehead.
~~
Eric parked the car in the sandy area that served as a general lot for the street. He looked around as they walked, sunglasses on against the setting sun. There hadn't been much paparazzi around, though of course you never knew.
When he recognized the stone façade of the restaurant they were headed to, he pushed Orlando into a narrow alleyway between the buildings. He snaked an arm around the kid's neck and pulled him close, looking over the top of his head as he spoke. "We're okay, you know? I just wanted to tell you."
Orlando just stood there a moment, arms at his sides. Then he tilted his head up. "Then why won't you look at me?"
Eric sighed, examining the crumbling brick on the wall behind Orlando. He supposed honesty was the best course. "Because, if I look at you--" he lowered his voice, whispering softly into the dark curls that had fallen over Orlando's forehead-- "I'll get a fucking hard-on, and then I won't be able to go into the restaurant."
There was a few seconds’ pause, then Orlando snickered, and one hand came up and rested on Eric's chest. "You need to learn to wear longer shirts, mate."
"Yeah, well, they make me look fat." He squeezed Orlando's shoulder.
Then a shadow fell across them, and they both instinctively put their hands in front of their faces.
"Jesus, guys, get a room," Brad's voice echoed over to them. "I don't want to get calls from the papers about this tomorrow."
Eric moved with lightning quickness and hooked Brad around the neck, dragging him into the alleyway and up against both of them. "Oh, darling!" he exclaimed, planting a wet smack on Brad's cheek.
"Shut the fuck up--yow!" Brad howled and jumped back as Orlando slapped him on the ass. "You two--fuckers!" he growled, half-choked with laughter as he disentangled himself from their pawing hands. "For fuck's sake, get inside before we draw a fucking crowd."
"Whatever you say, mate," Eric chuckled, following him back onto the sidewalk.
Orlando walked next to him as they made their way to the front door of the restaurant. "And I thought I said 'fuck' a lot," he grinned.
"You fucking do," Brad huffed, holding open the door. "Now get the fuck in there."
**
The lighting inside the tunnel-like restaurant was dim, hanging lights casting shadows over the dark brick. Eric carefully lifted his large feet as he walked over the uneven cobblestone floor, weaving in between the closely-packed tables. One false move and he'd trip and end up right across someone's dinner.
They soon found themselves in the even darker and smaller room at the back, where a few half-circle booths were tucked against the walls.
"Well, look at this bastard," Brad mumbled, glancing back at his two friends with a smirk.
Eric looked over Orlando's shoulder and saw that Bean was already there, sitting like a king in the middle of the padded leather curve of the booth, one arm wrapped around Saffron, the other around Rose. Rose's cheeks were pink and she was staring at Sean as if he were the only thing on the menu in her eyes. Eric wondered how the man did it.
"How nice of you to join us," Saffron said, looking relaxed and with a small smile playing about her lips.
"Well, these two were making out in an alley," Brad joked, sliding into the booth next to Rose. "It took a while to split them up."
Eric folded himself up and squeezed in next to Saffron while the others laughed. He leaned over and said quietly, "He tried to split us up, but then he just joined in." As Saffron kissed his cheek, he saw Orlando was still standing, and seemed to be looking for something.
"You lose something, mate?" he asked.
"Just thought I might find a chair to pull up."
"Well, that's nonsense. There's room, isn't there?"
Everyone agreed that there was, and Rose had no problem moving closer to Brad on one side and dragging Sean up tight next to her on the other. Saffron scooted over and Eric followed, leaving just enough space for Orlando to sit down.
Orlando hesitated for a moment, then joined them in the booth. The moment his body pressed against Eric's, and those dark eyes gazed up at him, Eric felt his cock spring to life. He practically whimpered, staring at the perfection that was Orlando, fighting the desperate urge to clear everything off of the table with a swipe of his arm and take the kid right there.
Orlando smiled sweetly at him and Eric swallowed hard. Getting through dinner without incident was going to be a tricky fucking affair.
~~
By dessert, Eric had decided that there were in fact Greek gods in existence, that he had pissed them off, and now they were trying to kill him.
Brad grinned at him across the table as, for the fiftieth time that night, Saffron leaned over Eric's lap to eat off Orlando's fork. The two of them had been at it all through dinner, Oh you've got to try this Orli...Oh, Saffron, taste the spices on this... Each time, one or the other would lean over, a hand on his thigh, Saffron's silky hair brushing across his arm, Orlando's lips sliding along the fork right in front of his eyes. He was so hard he thought his pants were going to explode at any moment.
"Looks like we're chopped liver tonight," Brad chuckled, causing both Rose and Saffron to look at him.
"What do you mean?" Rose asked, her cherubic face in a permanent state of excited flush.
"What do I mean?" Brad looked at her with feigned distress. "You've been hand-feeding Bean his entire dinner, and Saffron and Orlando have been using Eric as a table all night." He pouted. "We're feeling a bit left out." He sniffed and wiped away an invisible tear.
Sean laughed. "Guess we need to bring more girls next time, for these two cry-babies." He tore off a hunk of bread and extended it to Brad. "Here ya go, love."
Brad leaned forward and chomped down on it, laughing around the mouthful of bread as Sean yelped.
"He bit me fingers!" Sean exclaimed, but didn't have much time to complain as Rose pressed her lips to them and kissed them all better. In fact, he seemed incapable of speech at that moment.
I know how he feels, Eric thought, then turned when he felt Saffron's hand on his arm.
"You should have said something," Saffron smiled up at him, her beautiful eyes shining in the pale light of the restaurant. "You can share." She stabbed a piece of fruit and extended it to Orlando, who grabbed it with his teeth, then she moved to get another piece for Eric.
But Orlando hadn't eaten his slice yet; he was still holding it between his lips and his head was tilted up towards Eric. He batted his eyelashes a few times, and then made a slight noise in his throat that was probably a thwarted giggle.
Saffron had stopped her fork mid-air, and all eyes on the table were now on Eric and Orlando. Rose was already giggling, and Eric could see Bean and Brad out of the corner of his eye, two grinning idiots.
It's all a joke, right? After all, Brad had bit Sean's fingers and no one was looking at them strangely. And there was Orlando, pale red fruit held by his perfect white teeth, with that little bit of juice starting to trickle down his chin.
And Eric's mouth was over Orlando's before he even realized he had moved. Everyone at the table howled, and Orlando gurgled underneath him as his teeth bit down, scraping Orlando's lips as he retrieved his half of the fruit. He opened his mouth wide enough to slurp up the escaping juice, and gave Orlando's lips one last swipe of his tongue before pulling back.
"Well, you're right, Saffie," he said casually between chews, "that's definitely some tasty stuff right there."
Saffron hit him in the arm as the others continued to laugh. "You're terrible!"
Orlando was blushing feverishly, now, giggling with the rest of them, but his eyes never left Eric's. "I can't believe you did that," he murmured, licking his lips.
Eric watched the red tongue slip out and thought again about clearing off the table. "Well, you offered, mate."
"I did," Orlando said, and his gaze didn't waver. "I did offer."
~~
Eric had to admire the kid's thoughtfulness. When they got up to leave the restaurant, and then stood in the street to say goodbye to everyone, Orlando managed in several different ways to always be standing in front of Eric. Hiding certain aspects of him from view. Eric wanted to kiss him. He'd learned his fucking lesson, that was for sure...he was going to have to dig out a few of his longer shirts. Either that or just say fuck it and let everyone have an eyeful, but he wasn't quite there yet.
Orlando was quiet again in the car, leaning back and looking out his window, his hand resting casually on Eric's thigh. Eric tried not to think too much about those long fingers touching him, instead focusing on the pattern of streets that led back to the hotel. He watched the rows of buildings going by, taking in all the scantily dressed people milling around, moving between the dimly lit but roaringly loud bars and clubs.
He gave the car over to the valet once they arrived, happy to hand over the keys. He was more tired than he remembered being on even more rigorous days of shooting. Too much fucking excitement, he reflected. Too many fucking hours of unsatiated lust, a voice from lower retorted.
It only got worse as they made their way down the hall. Eric knew they would be at Orlando's door soon, and the closer they got, the stronger the memories of the shower became.
I can feel your chest against my back, your arm tight across me...
Eric felt hot, sweat trickling down between his shoulder blades, and he wondered when the hallway had gotten narrower. His breath hitched as he watched Orlando saunter down the hall, sinewy sensual grace adorably interrupted by the occasional bout of clumsy imbalance that made him weave towards one wall or the other.
Say you want me...say you want to come inside me...
When Orlando got to his door he leaned against it and looked up at Eric, eyes a little starry and a small hopeful smile playing about his lips. "Do you want to come in for a bit?" he asked, his voice pitched for Eric's ears only.
Yes, yes, God, YES. But no. Yet he continued to stand there, waiting, watching, unable to leave. He put a hand on the door, above Orlando's shoulder, and leaned on it. He looked down at him, knowing there was a very fine line between them, knowing that all it would take was one little push and he'd be in the damn kid's room, ravishing him.
Orlando seemed to sense his dilemma, and the worried expression appeared again. "I don't know if I've had a chance to illustrate this yet," he whispered, sliding against the door as he had against the wet shower wall, "but I'm a very patient and understanding person."
And Eric smiled. "I know you are." He tried to think of something to say, something that made sense. "Orlando, I--"
Orlando put two fingers over Eric's mouth to quiet him. "We're all right, anyway. That's what you said, right?" He let his hand drop back down to his side and waited.
"Yeah, we're all right," Eric agreed, his tension easing slightly. "So does that mean you're gonna get rid of that little wrinkle in your forehead?"
"What wrinkle?" Orlando asked.
"That one," Eric said, leaning further in and pressing his lips to the furrow in the kid's brow. "You kill me with that thing," he mumbled against the warm skin.
Orlando squirmed against him. "I'll have to remember that."
"Remember that I don't want to see it again," Eric growled, grabbing Orlando's chin and doing his best to give him the dark and crazy-eyed look.
Orlando responded with a deer-in-headlights look, which at least smoothed out his damn forehead. "I'll try," he said softly.
"All right, then." And Eric backed up, even though it killed a small part of him to do so. "I'll be seeing you tomorrow, bright and early, right?"
"Bright and early," Orlando repeated, obviously struggling to look cheerful. "See you then, mate."
Eric tried to look happy, too. "G'night, Orlando." He tore his eyes away from the handsome face and warm body that was so seductively pressed against the hard surface of the door...stop, stop, must stop thinking like that.
He walked down the hall and got out the key to his own room. When he'd opened the door he heard Orlando's voice echoing quietly down the hall..."G'night Eric," but when he looked over, Orlando's door was already closing.
"We're all right," Eric muttered as he walked into his room. "Totally fucking all right."
~~
Eric kicked at the sand. It had been a fucking miserable week, lying in bed every night with a fucking hard-on, hours going by until sheer exhaustion carried him into sleep. A shower and a wank would have solved the problem each time, but he'd been afraid of who he'd be thinking of when he did it. Things were getting crazy. He was acting like some fucking horny teenager. He was an adult, dammit, and he had to start acting like one. He had a wife and responsibilities. The life of illicit shags in hotel rooms during filming was not one for him. Especially fucking another guy. He was long past his drunk and experimental phase, and there was no excuse for the nonsense that had been going on in his head.
It was some kind of obsession, this thing with Orlando. It was insane, the weak-kneed feeling he got every time he looked at the kid. And after all, he was just a kid. Eric should be sticking with the big brother role he was suited for, not thinking ridiculously filthy thoughts about how Orlando's slender body would feel as he pressed him into the bed with his full weight, holding the boy down...
Fuck. Married, Eric, remember you're married. He clutched at his hair, then quickly released it, knowing they'd be up for their shot soon and he didn't want the hair and make-up people getting all over his case. He ventured a glance at Orlando, who was some distance away, stretching and preparing himself for his fight scene with Menelaus.
Looking at him just then turned out to be a huge mistake, because the kid bent over to touch his toes and stretch his legs, the stiff armor-like skirt flaring up to expose a healthy portion of his tautly muscled thighs.
"Fuck, I hate it when he does that."
Eric nearly jumped at the voice and turned to find Bean next to him, staring pointedly at Orlando. "What?"
"You know how much I love the ladies--"
Eric snorted. "And how much they love you."
Sean grinned. "Aye, but that--" he pointed at Orlando's bent form-- "makes me cock twitch when he does that."
Eric nearly choked, staring at him with wide eyes. "What?" he said again.
Sean was laughing now. He leaned in close, keeping his voice low. "Do ya know what it was like on Rings? Him all slender and graceful, trotting around on those long legs with that blonde hair flowing down his back?" He shook his head. "Does strange things to you, it does. If I were ever to shag a bloke, that one there--" he pointed again-- "he'd be it."
Eric just continued staring at him, mouth slightly open.
"And maybe you, with those nice pecs of yours," Sean added, thumping Eric's armor with his fist and then walking away, chortling.
And Eric finally found his voice, calling out after him, "I thought that crazy Mortensen guy was more your type!"
Sean paused and turned back, rubbing his chin and seeming to think on it. "Yeah, I suppose him, too." He grinned his special feral-eyed grin and shrugged casually. "Guess I'm not so straight as I thought." He managed not to burst into laughter again, at least not until he had turned back around and started up the hill to where his armies were waiting.
"Bastard," Eric grumbled. This was getting ridiculous. If one more person said something to him about fucking Orlando he was going to blow a gasket. Especially since he couldn't take his damn eyes off the kid's backside. How many stretches did he think he had to do, anyway? Wasn't someone going to make him stop?
He was lost in his thoughts and barely noticed when Brad came and stood next to him. "Hey."
Eric tried to keep his voice steady. "Hey yourself."
Brad looked at him, then looked at Orlando, who was now on all fours, looking like he was waiting for the pistol shot at a relay race. "So," Brad said quietly, voice liquid and smooth, "Are you reminiscing, or still just longing for it?"
Eric didn't answer, just growled and shoved Brad hard in the shoulder, simultaneously kneeing the back of his leg. Brad crumpled to the ground with a thud, armor smacking the sand and causing a mini cloud to rise up around him.
After a moment of sputtering and a surprised laugh, Brad rolled over onto his back, squinting up at Eric with a knowing grin. "I told you it would drive you crazy, man."
Eric just shook his head and laughed at himself, leaning forward to offer Brad a hand. "That one was for Hector."
Brad snorted and let Eric help him to his feet. He brushed off his breastplate, coughing as the sand again flew into his face.
None of the staff had noticed Brad's fall, thankfully, but Eric looked up to find Orlando staring at them. Even at this distance, he could tell the evil furrow had reappeared. "Wave at him, will ya?" Eric asked, raising his own hand.
Brad complied, then Orlando smiled hesitantly and waved back at them.
"I knew I shouldn't have come over here after Sean walked away with that shit-eating grin of his," Brad said, combing his fingers through his long hair.
Eric grinned sheepishly. "Sorry mate, just bad timing on your part." He closed his eyes and rubbed his forehead. "You know that I dreamt last night--had a fucking nightmare--that Bean was making out with my wife?"
"Well, why didn't you fucking take him out at the knees?"
Eric shrugged, folding his arms across his chest and kicking at the sand again. "It was just a dream."
Brad stood in silence for a moment, then said, "So, what if you dreamt it was Rose instead of Sean?"
"Huh?" Eric looked back up. "What do you mean, Rose?"
"Rose and your wife?" Brad wagged a finger at him. "Don't lie, now."
Eric had to laugh, and he thought his cheeks were probably getting red. "Well, fuck, that'd be a pretty damn good dream. But don't tell my wife I said that."
Brad grinned. "Scout's honor. So there's a difference, right?"
"Well fuck, yeah, there's a difference. What's your point?"
Brad patted him on the arm. "I'm not spelling this one out for you, man. I'll see you at lunch."
Eric just stood and watched him walk away, and then his gaze traveled up to the top of the hill where Sean stood in full battle gear, talking to Rose, whose body language spoke of wanting to be taken prisoner and become Odysseus' fucking love slave. His eyes wandered between them, from broad shoulders and muscled legs to soft curves and dark flowing hair.
Then he turned back around and looked from his own broad shoulders over to Orlando's muscled legs, and a little light bulb went on over his head.
Fuck yeah, there's a difference.
~~Go on to **PART 3**