FIC: "Temporary Monogamy" (Part Fifteen) (Orlando Bloom/Sean Bean, Karl Urban/Sean Bean)
Title: "Temporary Monogamy" (15/27)
Author: Brenda (azewewish)
Pairing: Orlando Bloom/Sean Bean (Karl Urban/Sean Bean)
Click here for full disclaimers & notes.
Prologue | Part One | Part Two | Part Three | Part Four | Part Five | Part Six | Part Seven | Part Eight | Part Nine | Part Ten | Part Eleven | Part Twelve | Part Thirteen | Part Fourteen | Part Fifteen | Part Sixteen | Part Seventeen | Part Eighteen | Part Nineteen | Part Twenty | Part Twenty-One | Part Twenty-Two | Part Twenty-Three | Part Twenty-Four | Part Twenty-Five | Part Twenty-Six | Part Twenty-Seven (and Epilogue) |
Rumpled, cheap, sweaty sex in an anonymous hotel room on threadbare sheets with the late afternoon sun filtering through hastily pulled blinds. Rough, tart kisses - the welcome shock of an invasive tongue - bitter taste of cigarettes and ale, open mouths debauching each other in careless sweeps. Rough hands cresting along aching, needy skin, fingers bringing pleasure and pain into exquisite focus, every nerve awakening. A rumbly, smoky voice promising wicked seduction - vulgar and hot and dirty. Each whispered word a reminder, each hoarse moan a plea...
Orlando woke up with a gasp, clutching at sweat-damp sheets with his fists, breath coming in short, staccato bursts. The fuzzy edges of the dream were already starting to fade, despite his best efforts to try to recall it. He could feel his heart racing double-time; he felt like he'd just run a mile. "Fuck," he breathed, and flopped back onto the pillow. He wished he could remember more than shadow glimpses.
He wished he had any idea why he was rock hard and aching.
For a long time, he simply laid there, willing his heart to slow, his breath to even out. After an hour, he realized going back to sleep was an impossibility, at least, in his current state. By all rights, he should be exhausted. A day of football and surfing and friends and food and drink and really great pot - he should be fast asleep, snoring up a storm (even though he thought Billy was winding him up on the whole snoring thing). He emphatically should not be wide awake, contemplating the ceiling and bizarre, really vivid dreams about an anonymous hot man.
At least the man in the dream had been anonymous, and not, y'know, Karl. Great kissing aside, there were lines that should never be crossed, and having a sex dream about a man who was like a blood brother was definitely a place no one should ever go. Still, the fact that he was having any sort of dreams at all about cocks instead of tits was, well, disturbing. Not that cock was bad, per se. Certainly, he loved his own most days, when it wasn't threatening to get him in serious trouble. But other cocks? On other men?
It wasn't that he didn't appreciate the male body, of course he did. He'd have to be dead not to appreciate the sheer animal grace that was Sean going through his choreography during sword practice (man would have made a brilliant ballet dancer), or that Karl really was just about the physical embodiment of male perfection. But, there was a big difference between aesthetically appreciating a thing and, y'know, appreciating a thing. Sexually speaking, of course.
But then, there was his reaction to Karl's kiss. His very enthusiastic reaction to Karl's kiss. No, he hadn't popped a boner or anything quite that weird, but there was no denying he'd been aroused. Which was just...bizarre. He'd been around good-looking blokes all his life and never wanted to snog them or do anything else to them. So, why now? And why would Karl want to encourage that sort of behavior in him if Karl did not (and thank fuck for it, really) want to have sex with him?
This had to be some sort of prank of Karl's. Nothing else made sense. It had to be a dare or a momentary stoned reaction or something.
But what if it wasn't? What if Orlando really was attracted to men as well as women? What the hell was he going to do about that?
Right, then, that only left one thing to do.
Fifteen minutes later, hastily dressed in jeans and his second favorite lime and bright yellow tee, he walked up the steps to Harry's, determined to get some answers. He knocked on the door, and waited, rocking back on his heels, hands shoved in his back pockets, trying to distill the nervousness. There was no reason to be nervous. This was just Harry. Great friend, Harry, knew a lot. Knew how Karl's twisty mind worked, more importantly, and what he should do about retaliation for this (admittedly very good) prank.
Harry answered the door on a yawn, boxers, t-shirt and face all creased with sleep. He rubbed a hand across his eyes, peered at Orlando like he thought he was still dreaming. His voice was the sort of scratchy that only came from a really late night. "What're you doing here?"
"Look, I need you to do something for me."
"Alright." No questions asked, simple as that. Definitely the best of friends, even if Orlando was totally getting ready to stretch that bond as far as it would probably go.
Orlando took a step closer. Took a deep breath. Braced himself. He could totally do this. "Kiss me."
Wrinkles appeared between Harry's brows. "Excuse me?"
"I need you to..." Fuck, what was he thinking? This was as bad as going to Viggo for advice, maybe even worse. Who in sweet fuck went around asking their friends to kiss them to prove a point?
"You know what, bugger it, this is a stupid -" Then Harry's lips were on his, and it was like lightning striking the ground. Helpless, overwhelmed, Orlando moaned when a confident tongue stole inside his mouth, stole every bit of breath he ever had, and left him as dazed as the one time he'd hit his head on a rock while skateboarding.
When Harry finally lifted his head, Orlando wasn't remotely surprised to find that he was clinging to Harry's shoulders for support. "Dear God in Heaven," he choked out, certain he might never move again. Karl had left that??? What in sweet cunting Christ was wrong with the man? And how much better could Sean be and not kill people or at least make them faint or something with the sheer amazingness of his kisses?
"You alright?" Harry asked, concerned.
"No." Orlando stumbled away, and sank down into one of the chairs on the veranda, feeling as weak as a newborn. Guess that settled that, then. Fuck. Fuck fuck fuck fuck buggering fuck. "I'm not alright at all."
"I didn't think it was that bad," Harry replied with a small smile, and sat in the chair beside him.
"No, it wasn't...that part was..." Fuck, his head was still buzzing. Dazedly, he tried to remember that he had a vocabulary, and a rather large one, at that. "You're really fucking good at the whole...I think I might be bisexual."
Harry, to his considerable credit, managed to follow along with the disjointed conversation. "Which is why you wanted me to...?"
"Yeah." Orlando nodded, the motion jerky. Thank God Harry got him. "I thought maybe it was a fluke, yeah."
Harry nodded. "And now?"
"Definitely not a fluke. I mean, don't worry, I don't want to...you know." He waved a vague hand in Harry's direction. "I mean, fucking fantastic snog, don't get me wrong..."
"It's alright, I don't want to sleep with you, either."
"Oh, good," Orlando sighed, relieved. Then frowned. "Oi, wait a minute, why not?"
Harry blinked at him rather owlishly. "Well, you're not Karl, now, are you?"
Seriously, the two of them were the oddest non-couple he'd ever met in his life. "Mate, you have really got to talk to him."
"When the time's right," Harry replied. "I'm not ready yet." Which made no sense, but that was Harry for you. "Anyway, we were talking about your grand epiphany."
Actually, Orlando would have been just as happy if they'd forgotten about it. "I'm telling you, there's something about this bloody island that makes people...different."
"One possibility. Or it could just be that you're doing exactly what you should be doing when spending so much time in a different environment."
"And what's that?"
Harry's smile reminded him of the Mona Lisa. "Expanding your horizons."
"Right." Orlando nodded, then took a deep breath. And another one. Christ, the butterflies were going to kill him. "When did you, um, I mean..."
"What, the first time I knew I was attracted to men as well as women?" At Orlando's shaky nod, Harry made a thoughtful noise. "I dunno, must've been around 21, 22, something like that."
Orlando curled his feet under him, intrigued at this glimpse into Harry's past. "And it didn't...weird you out?"
"Not really," Harry shrugged. "I can't say the mechanics of it all didn't take some getting used to, but the feelings were the same, regardless of what sex the person was."
"Oh, God, mechanics," Orlando groaned. Here he was, having a meltdown about kissing, and Harry had to go on and mention mechanics. "I've never even done the anal thing with a girl."
Harry's chuckle was kind as he reached over to pat Orlando's shoulder. "I don't think anyone's expecting you to run a marathon when you've just got your sea legs about you."
"Harry, that metaphor makes no sense." And was a mixed one, at that, but Orlando didn't bother to point that out. No sense in being snobbish about it.
"No one's expecting you to fuck on the first date, how's that?"
"Not much more comforting, to be honest," Orlando admitted. In fact, the thought was bloody well terrifying, in more ways than one.
"It'll be alright," Harry said, over Orlando's disbelieving snort. "So...who is it you're interested in? I mean, that you think you might be bisexual?"
"No one," Orlando replied, confused. He couldn't remember looking at any bloke with an eye towards, y'know, mechanics. "At least, I don't think so." He would have remembered, wouldn't he? Knew himself pretty well, or so he thought, he'd have totally noticed.
"So...what happened?"
"Oh, well. Um." Orlando had a brief moment of debate over how much to tell, but figured that Karl would probably tell Harry all about it, anyway, as those two couldn't keep a secret from the other to save their skins. "Karl kissed me."
"Ah, well, he would be enough to make a person turn, wouldn't he?" Harry grinned, the sight rakish.
"Christ, don't tell him that, he'll be insufferable," Orlando groaned. "But no, I'm not interested in him that way."
"So, this is more of a general idea than a specific person."
"I guess." Christ, just thinking about it was making his head spin. Or maybe the day was finally catching up to him. Felt like all of the adrenaline that had gotten him here was leaving just as swiftly as it had arrived, leaving him exhausted. "I have no idea, to be honest."
"Well, that's alright, too." Smiling, Harry clapped his hands to his knees, and stood. "C'mon. You can have the guest room."
"I'm right down the street," Orlando protested, even though he didn't head for the steps. He wasn't sure if he was in the mood to be alone at the moment.
"Bed," was all Harry said, and pointed at the door. Orlando was too grateful to argue. He could resume pondering and brooding, as Miranda so eloquently put it, in the morning. For now, all he really hoped was that he could sleep without dreams.
***
He rose out of the water, sunlight dappling on golden skin, eyes bright with mischief, smile curving beautifully full lips. Sean watched, fascinated, glued in place, as Orlando made his way up the beach, hand sluicing through the droplets that clung to his chest and stomach, fingertips trailing over every rib and ridge of muscle.
"See anything you like?" Orlando asked, managing to make coy sound like the sexiest thing on the planet.
"Yeah," Sean replied, and tugged at Orlando's hand until Orlando was sprawled on top of him, tasting of sea salt and sunshine when their lips met, slid together, held. Sean moaned low in his throat, sought more, filled his hands with Orlando's ass as they rocked together, the motions mimicking the rolling of the waves...
Sean awoke with a start, heart pounding, and blinked blearily up into Karl's confused frown. "I'm alright with wet dreams, but you can't hump my leg like that while I'm asleep," Karl yawned, the sound inordinately loud. "Dreamed you were a horny dog."
Sean huffed out a soft chuckle, still feeling a little woozy and disoriented from the last vestiges of the dream. "Sorry, I was just..."
"Must've been pretty hot." Karl let out another lusty yawn and dropped his head into the crook of Sean's shoulder. One hand traced lazy patterns along Sean's chest. "Wanna tell me about it?"
Sean wrapped an arm around Karl's shoulder, the gesture automatic. "You'd laugh."
"Maybe," Karl conceded, with a smile, "but laughter's not always a bad thing."
Well, what the hell, Sean thought. It was probably Karl's fault anyway, for putting thoughts like that in his head to begin with. "It was Orlando."
"Oh, was it now?" Karl lifted his head and stared down at Sean, giving an approving nod. "I take it that the sex was grand and glorious and all that?"
"We didn't get that far," Sean admitted. "In the dream, I mean. Just making out on the beach."
"Ah, well, who'd blame you. He was looking rather delectable today in those tiny swim trunks, wasn't he?" Karl said, with a waggle of his eyebrows.
"Yeah, he really was." Again, Sean blamed Karl that he'd even been thinking about it. "I don't think I'd ever really noticed before. How truly gorgeous he is, I mean." Oh, sure, he'd known it - impossible not to - but it had never really hit him until today that Orlando Bloom was truly one of the most beautiful men he'd ever met, in a sexual way.
"Well, it's alright to look. And to dream." Karl dropped his head for a lingering kiss. "But if you do manage to get in his pants, I expect to hear all about it."
"Like he'd have me," Sean scoffed. Dreams were all well and fine, not like a person could help them, but it's not like everyone went around acting on them. Nor should they, or there'd be a lot more people trying to fly or jump off bridges.
A mysterious smile graced Karl's lips. "Oh, I think he'd have you."
Sean knew that tone. "And what makes you think that?"
"Call it a hunch." Light fingers traced Sean's sternum, then lower. "But that's for later."
"Is it?" Sean asked, voice hitching as Karl's fingers slid through crisp hairs, then cupped around the base of his cock.
"Mmhmm." Their lips met in another kiss. "Since you woke me up and all..."
"I suppose I do owe you," Sean replied in mock-seriousness, and carded his fingers through Karl's hair, bringing him close for another kiss that wasn't nearly as chaste and friendly, all thoughts of dreams and Orlando's sun-kissed skin forgotten for the moment.
(To Be Continued)
Author: Brenda (azewewish)
Pairing: Orlando Bloom/Sean Bean (Karl Urban/Sean Bean)
Click here for full disclaimers & notes.
Prologue | Part One | Part Two | Part Three | Part Four | Part Five | Part Six | Part Seven | Part Eight | Part Nine | Part Ten | Part Eleven | Part Twelve | Part Thirteen | Part Fourteen | Part Fifteen | Part Sixteen | Part Seventeen | Part Eighteen | Part Nineteen | Part Twenty | Part Twenty-One | Part Twenty-Two | Part Twenty-Three | Part Twenty-Four | Part Twenty-Five | Part Twenty-Six | Part Twenty-Seven (and Epilogue) |
Rumpled, cheap, sweaty sex in an anonymous hotel room on threadbare sheets with the late afternoon sun filtering through hastily pulled blinds. Rough, tart kisses - the welcome shock of an invasive tongue - bitter taste of cigarettes and ale, open mouths debauching each other in careless sweeps. Rough hands cresting along aching, needy skin, fingers bringing pleasure and pain into exquisite focus, every nerve awakening. A rumbly, smoky voice promising wicked seduction - vulgar and hot and dirty. Each whispered word a reminder, each hoarse moan a plea...
Orlando woke up with a gasp, clutching at sweat-damp sheets with his fists, breath coming in short, staccato bursts. The fuzzy edges of the dream were already starting to fade, despite his best efforts to try to recall it. He could feel his heart racing double-time; he felt like he'd just run a mile. "Fuck," he breathed, and flopped back onto the pillow. He wished he could remember more than shadow glimpses.
He wished he had any idea why he was rock hard and aching.
For a long time, he simply laid there, willing his heart to slow, his breath to even out. After an hour, he realized going back to sleep was an impossibility, at least, in his current state. By all rights, he should be exhausted. A day of football and surfing and friends and food and drink and really great pot - he should be fast asleep, snoring up a storm (even though he thought Billy was winding him up on the whole snoring thing). He emphatically should not be wide awake, contemplating the ceiling and bizarre, really vivid dreams about an anonymous hot man.
At least the man in the dream had been anonymous, and not, y'know, Karl. Great kissing aside, there were lines that should never be crossed, and having a sex dream about a man who was like a blood brother was definitely a place no one should ever go. Still, the fact that he was having any sort of dreams at all about cocks instead of tits was, well, disturbing. Not that cock was bad, per se. Certainly, he loved his own most days, when it wasn't threatening to get him in serious trouble. But other cocks? On other men?
It wasn't that he didn't appreciate the male body, of course he did. He'd have to be dead not to appreciate the sheer animal grace that was Sean going through his choreography during sword practice (man would have made a brilliant ballet dancer), or that Karl really was just about the physical embodiment of male perfection. But, there was a big difference between aesthetically appreciating a thing and, y'know, appreciating a thing. Sexually speaking, of course.
But then, there was his reaction to Karl's kiss. His very enthusiastic reaction to Karl's kiss. No, he hadn't popped a boner or anything quite that weird, but there was no denying he'd been aroused. Which was just...bizarre. He'd been around good-looking blokes all his life and never wanted to snog them or do anything else to them. So, why now? And why would Karl want to encourage that sort of behavior in him if Karl did not (and thank fuck for it, really) want to have sex with him?
This had to be some sort of prank of Karl's. Nothing else made sense. It had to be a dare or a momentary stoned reaction or something.
But what if it wasn't? What if Orlando really was attracted to men as well as women? What the hell was he going to do about that?
Right, then, that only left one thing to do.
Fifteen minutes later, hastily dressed in jeans and his second favorite lime and bright yellow tee, he walked up the steps to Harry's, determined to get some answers. He knocked on the door, and waited, rocking back on his heels, hands shoved in his back pockets, trying to distill the nervousness. There was no reason to be nervous. This was just Harry. Great friend, Harry, knew a lot. Knew how Karl's twisty mind worked, more importantly, and what he should do about retaliation for this (admittedly very good) prank.
Harry answered the door on a yawn, boxers, t-shirt and face all creased with sleep. He rubbed a hand across his eyes, peered at Orlando like he thought he was still dreaming. His voice was the sort of scratchy that only came from a really late night. "What're you doing here?"
"Look, I need you to do something for me."
"Alright." No questions asked, simple as that. Definitely the best of friends, even if Orlando was totally getting ready to stretch that bond as far as it would probably go.
Orlando took a step closer. Took a deep breath. Braced himself. He could totally do this. "Kiss me."
Wrinkles appeared between Harry's brows. "Excuse me?"
"I need you to..." Fuck, what was he thinking? This was as bad as going to Viggo for advice, maybe even worse. Who in sweet fuck went around asking their friends to kiss them to prove a point?
"You know what, bugger it, this is a stupid -" Then Harry's lips were on his, and it was like lightning striking the ground. Helpless, overwhelmed, Orlando moaned when a confident tongue stole inside his mouth, stole every bit of breath he ever had, and left him as dazed as the one time he'd hit his head on a rock while skateboarding.
When Harry finally lifted his head, Orlando wasn't remotely surprised to find that he was clinging to Harry's shoulders for support. "Dear God in Heaven," he choked out, certain he might never move again. Karl had left that??? What in sweet cunting Christ was wrong with the man? And how much better could Sean be and not kill people or at least make them faint or something with the sheer amazingness of his kisses?
"You alright?" Harry asked, concerned.
"No." Orlando stumbled away, and sank down into one of the chairs on the veranda, feeling as weak as a newborn. Guess that settled that, then. Fuck. Fuck fuck fuck fuck buggering fuck. "I'm not alright at all."
"I didn't think it was that bad," Harry replied with a small smile, and sat in the chair beside him.
"No, it wasn't...that part was..." Fuck, his head was still buzzing. Dazedly, he tried to remember that he had a vocabulary, and a rather large one, at that. "You're really fucking good at the whole...I think I might be bisexual."
Harry, to his considerable credit, managed to follow along with the disjointed conversation. "Which is why you wanted me to...?"
"Yeah." Orlando nodded, the motion jerky. Thank God Harry got him. "I thought maybe it was a fluke, yeah."
Harry nodded. "And now?"
"Definitely not a fluke. I mean, don't worry, I don't want to...you know." He waved a vague hand in Harry's direction. "I mean, fucking fantastic snog, don't get me wrong..."
"It's alright, I don't want to sleep with you, either."
"Oh, good," Orlando sighed, relieved. Then frowned. "Oi, wait a minute, why not?"
Harry blinked at him rather owlishly. "Well, you're not Karl, now, are you?"
Seriously, the two of them were the oddest non-couple he'd ever met in his life. "Mate, you have really got to talk to him."
"When the time's right," Harry replied. "I'm not ready yet." Which made no sense, but that was Harry for you. "Anyway, we were talking about your grand epiphany."
Actually, Orlando would have been just as happy if they'd forgotten about it. "I'm telling you, there's something about this bloody island that makes people...different."
"One possibility. Or it could just be that you're doing exactly what you should be doing when spending so much time in a different environment."
"And what's that?"
Harry's smile reminded him of the Mona Lisa. "Expanding your horizons."
"Right." Orlando nodded, then took a deep breath. And another one. Christ, the butterflies were going to kill him. "When did you, um, I mean..."
"What, the first time I knew I was attracted to men as well as women?" At Orlando's shaky nod, Harry made a thoughtful noise. "I dunno, must've been around 21, 22, something like that."
Orlando curled his feet under him, intrigued at this glimpse into Harry's past. "And it didn't...weird you out?"
"Not really," Harry shrugged. "I can't say the mechanics of it all didn't take some getting used to, but the feelings were the same, regardless of what sex the person was."
"Oh, God, mechanics," Orlando groaned. Here he was, having a meltdown about kissing, and Harry had to go on and mention mechanics. "I've never even done the anal thing with a girl."
Harry's chuckle was kind as he reached over to pat Orlando's shoulder. "I don't think anyone's expecting you to run a marathon when you've just got your sea legs about you."
"Harry, that metaphor makes no sense." And was a mixed one, at that, but Orlando didn't bother to point that out. No sense in being snobbish about it.
"No one's expecting you to fuck on the first date, how's that?"
"Not much more comforting, to be honest," Orlando admitted. In fact, the thought was bloody well terrifying, in more ways than one.
"It'll be alright," Harry said, over Orlando's disbelieving snort. "So...who is it you're interested in? I mean, that you think you might be bisexual?"
"No one," Orlando replied, confused. He couldn't remember looking at any bloke with an eye towards, y'know, mechanics. "At least, I don't think so." He would have remembered, wouldn't he? Knew himself pretty well, or so he thought, he'd have totally noticed.
"So...what happened?"
"Oh, well. Um." Orlando had a brief moment of debate over how much to tell, but figured that Karl would probably tell Harry all about it, anyway, as those two couldn't keep a secret from the other to save their skins. "Karl kissed me."
"Ah, well, he would be enough to make a person turn, wouldn't he?" Harry grinned, the sight rakish.
"Christ, don't tell him that, he'll be insufferable," Orlando groaned. "But no, I'm not interested in him that way."
"So, this is more of a general idea than a specific person."
"I guess." Christ, just thinking about it was making his head spin. Or maybe the day was finally catching up to him. Felt like all of the adrenaline that had gotten him here was leaving just as swiftly as it had arrived, leaving him exhausted. "I have no idea, to be honest."
"Well, that's alright, too." Smiling, Harry clapped his hands to his knees, and stood. "C'mon. You can have the guest room."
"I'm right down the street," Orlando protested, even though he didn't head for the steps. He wasn't sure if he was in the mood to be alone at the moment.
"Bed," was all Harry said, and pointed at the door. Orlando was too grateful to argue. He could resume pondering and brooding, as Miranda so eloquently put it, in the morning. For now, all he really hoped was that he could sleep without dreams.
***
He rose out of the water, sunlight dappling on golden skin, eyes bright with mischief, smile curving beautifully full lips. Sean watched, fascinated, glued in place, as Orlando made his way up the beach, hand sluicing through the droplets that clung to his chest and stomach, fingertips trailing over every rib and ridge of muscle.
"See anything you like?" Orlando asked, managing to make coy sound like the sexiest thing on the planet.
"Yeah," Sean replied, and tugged at Orlando's hand until Orlando was sprawled on top of him, tasting of sea salt and sunshine when their lips met, slid together, held. Sean moaned low in his throat, sought more, filled his hands with Orlando's ass as they rocked together, the motions mimicking the rolling of the waves...
Sean awoke with a start, heart pounding, and blinked blearily up into Karl's confused frown. "I'm alright with wet dreams, but you can't hump my leg like that while I'm asleep," Karl yawned, the sound inordinately loud. "Dreamed you were a horny dog."
Sean huffed out a soft chuckle, still feeling a little woozy and disoriented from the last vestiges of the dream. "Sorry, I was just..."
"Must've been pretty hot." Karl let out another lusty yawn and dropped his head into the crook of Sean's shoulder. One hand traced lazy patterns along Sean's chest. "Wanna tell me about it?"
Sean wrapped an arm around Karl's shoulder, the gesture automatic. "You'd laugh."
"Maybe," Karl conceded, with a smile, "but laughter's not always a bad thing."
Well, what the hell, Sean thought. It was probably Karl's fault anyway, for putting thoughts like that in his head to begin with. "It was Orlando."
"Oh, was it now?" Karl lifted his head and stared down at Sean, giving an approving nod. "I take it that the sex was grand and glorious and all that?"
"We didn't get that far," Sean admitted. "In the dream, I mean. Just making out on the beach."
"Ah, well, who'd blame you. He was looking rather delectable today in those tiny swim trunks, wasn't he?" Karl said, with a waggle of his eyebrows.
"Yeah, he really was." Again, Sean blamed Karl that he'd even been thinking about it. "I don't think I'd ever really noticed before. How truly gorgeous he is, I mean." Oh, sure, he'd known it - impossible not to - but it had never really hit him until today that Orlando Bloom was truly one of the most beautiful men he'd ever met, in a sexual way.
"Well, it's alright to look. And to dream." Karl dropped his head for a lingering kiss. "But if you do manage to get in his pants, I expect to hear all about it."
"Like he'd have me," Sean scoffed. Dreams were all well and fine, not like a person could help them, but it's not like everyone went around acting on them. Nor should they, or there'd be a lot more people trying to fly or jump off bridges.
A mysterious smile graced Karl's lips. "Oh, I think he'd have you."
Sean knew that tone. "And what makes you think that?"
"Call it a hunch." Light fingers traced Sean's sternum, then lower. "But that's for later."
"Is it?" Sean asked, voice hitching as Karl's fingers slid through crisp hairs, then cupped around the base of his cock.
"Mmhmm." Their lips met in another kiss. "Since you woke me up and all..."
"I suppose I do owe you," Sean replied in mock-seriousness, and carded his fingers through Karl's hair, bringing him close for another kiss that wasn't nearly as chaste and friendly, all thoughts of dreams and Orlando's sun-kissed skin forgotten for the moment.
(To Be Continued)