Just Another Morning

[mrphoenix]

[Takes places the morning after this, co-written by the muns]

Humming under his breath, Joaquin carefully drags the edge of the razor along his jaw. Glancing up as he rinses the soap off the bright steel, he looks at Orlando. "Oughta get dressed, don't you think?"

"You trying to say you don't like me naked?" Orlando asks with a wicked grin as he rubs his towel over his hair one last time.

"Never said that," Joaquin grins, watching Orlando in the mirror. "But I don't think someone'll appreciate too much if you show up to work naked."

"Who, your new fella?" Orlando presses close, resting his chin on Joaquin's shoulder. "Missed a spot, you know."

"He's not my new fella," Joaquin murmurs automatically, lifting the razor to scrape over the spot Orlando indicates. "He's just...I dunno. Maybe."

"Maybe not yet, but he will be," Orlando predicts, and places a light kiss to the dusting of freckles on Joaquin's shoulder.



"So damn sure of that, aren't you?" His voice is muffled by the damp towel he wipes across his face. Dropping it in the sink, Joaquin turns to face Orlando. "What if he ain't interested in nothing else?"

Orlando drapes his arms on Joaquin's shoulders and leans in. "Trust me, alright."

Joaquin nods as he slides his fingers along Orlando's arms. "Just scared still," he says, quietly. Then he rests his forehead against Orlando's. "How're you doin'?"

"Me?"

"Slept all night." His fingers slide along Orlando's arms again, and Joaquin smiles.

"Yeah, I know." Orlando shakes his head, taking a deep breath as he relaxes into the touches. Into the love and acceptance and brotherhood in Joaquin's eyes. "Second night in a row."

Knew he'd be good for you. "M'glad." Another smile as he feels Orlando relax against him. "And Lou?"

Orlando lets out a low groan. "Fuck, man...I mean, I...um...he's fucking her, isn't he?"

"You know he is." Joaquin makes his voice as gentle as he can, but he knows the words still sting. "If he's not...there's a hell of a lot more going on in his head than he's letting on."

"Yeah," Orlando agrees. "I have no idea what I'm going to do about it. I mean, he's right, you know. I gave her up. I don't get a say anymore. Hell," he laughs, a little ironically, remembering, "I actually told him to take her out."

"You think he can make her happy?"

"Well, they've always gotten on. Beyond that...guess I'd have to get a look at them, see how they are around each other." Not that he's sure when he'll be able to do that without regret.

"Y'know," Joaquin says, quietly, searching Orlando's eyes, "if you've changed your mind..."

"No." Orlando shakes his head, and manages a small smile. "It's too late for me and Cate. I just want her to be happy." Even if it is with someone else, one of his oldest friends.

"Alright." A gentle head-butt is delivered, then Joaquin brushes his lips over Orlando's. "Stop brooding over it, then. Let Lou have his chance. But you need to sit down and talk to him."

"I will. I will, I promise," Orlando repeats, when Joaquin just raises an eyebrow. "And you'll talk to Mark."

"Already said I would, didn't I?" Joaquin grumbles, slowly untangling himself from Orlando. "Still trying to figure out what I'm supposed to talk to him about, though."

"Whatever comes to mind, I guess," Orlando replies, and leans back in for another quick kiss before walking into the bedroom to get dressed.

"You're such a big help." Snagging his undershirt from the door on the way out of the bathroom, Joaquin shrugs into it. "Don't think it'd go over too well with the other guys if I just up and say what I want to do to him."

Orlando pauses in the act of buttoning his trousers. "You trying to tell me that all you want to talk about with him is fucking him?"

"No," Joaquin protests, then he grins. "It was just the first thing that came to mind. You should see the man naked. It's, um, impressive."

"I've seen him without his shirt often enough," Orlando chuckles, and tucks his undershirt into his trousers. "I'm not surprised at all that he's as well built all over."

"He is." Joaquin waggles his eyebrows as he tugs a shirt over his head before sitting down to shove his feet into his work boots. Just thinking about Mark is making him want to grin like a loon, and that's the last thing he wants Orlando to see.

"Well, like I said. 'Bout time someone other than me gets a piece of your ass... It's far too fine for just one person, even if it is me."

Joaquin sniffs, then bends to lace one of his boots. "Make it sound like I oughta let the whole world have a piece of me."

"Nah, I'm not that generous." Orlando drops next to Joaquin, and gives him a gentle shove before lacing up his own boots. "Think me and Mark should be plenty for you, don't you think?"

"Planning on sharing me?" As soon as the words are out of his mouth, Joaquin stops with his second boot half-laced and blinks. Just the idea...

"Well, uh..." Orlando pauses and thinks about it for a minute, then he glances over at Joaquin -- and, more importantly, at the look on Joaquin's face. Then he smiles, slow and calculating. "Maybe if you're a very good boy, I'll see what sort of arrangement Mark and I can make for you."

Startled, Joaquin blinks again, then stares at Orlando. "Man, the two of you together'd kill me!" But what a way to go. His eyes threaten to glaze over again just thinking about it.

"Oh, I think you'd survive it just fine," Orlando counters, and reaches between Joaquin's legs to give a gentle squeeze. Just as he'd thought -- Joaquin's already half-hard from the thought. And, truth be told, even though Orlando's never thought about Mark that way, he can't resist teasing Joaquin a little more.

Joaquin just manages to swallow his moan, nostrils flaring as he fights for control. "Don't start something you ain't got time to finish," he says, voice raspy.

"Who said I was planning on stopping?" Orlando asks, teeth closing over Joaquin's earlobe as deft fingers unbutton Joaquin's trousers and close over hard, heated flesh.

Fuck control. It's overrated. With a groan, Joaquin falls back, hips lifting in silent demand.

Orlando takes the obvious hint, wrist flicking as he closes his fingers tight, moves with even, smooth strokes. He flicks his tongue wetly around the whorls of Joaquin's ear. "Think I'd like to watch him fucking you first..."

"Fuck..." Joaquin shudders, eyes closing so he can savor the image. The memory of Mark inside him, combined with Orlando's hand on him, has him squirming.

"And then, after he's had you, nice and hard, and I bet he rides you just like a bitch, don't he, I'll come in after and fuck you hot and slow so he can watch us together..."

One hand claws at the sheets, and Joaquin's body twists. "Yes," he breathes, no longer sure what he's agreeing to, but it doesn't really matter.

"Yeah, you'd like that, wouldn't you," Orlando murmurs, his voice dark, thick as he twists down, then slides up, hard and fast.

"Please..." and then one hand tangles in Orlando's hair, yanks him down for a hard, brutal kiss just as Joaquin's body bows up, and he spills over Orlando's fingers.

"Never get enough of this," Orlando whispers, gentling the kiss as he soothes and eases Joaquin back to earth.

"Dirty tactics," Joaquin mumbles, almost whimpering as gentle fingertips drag over sensitized flesh.

"Are you complaining?"

"Not me," Joaquin smiles, lazy and sated, and tugs Orlando down for another kiss.

One kiss turns into two...that turns into several, and finally, reluctantly, Orlando lifts his head, licking full, used lips. "We do need to be heading on, or the only thing Mark's liable to be doing to either of us is kicking our asses."

"Liable to be kicking our asses anyway," Joaquin chuckles as Orlando untangles himself. "Pretty obvious you've been well-kissed this morning."

"What, you think he's gonna be jealous?" Orlando laughs, heading into the bathroom to wash his hands. The idea has him more than a little amused.

"Maybe. I don't know." Joaquin shrugs as he rebuttons his trousers and finishes lacing his boots. "Probably be more pissed that we're late 'cause we were fucking around."

"Believe me, he's not gonna be jealous." Orlando ruffles Joaquin's hair as he passes by, and shrugs into his work shirt. "And if we hurry a bit, we might not be late."

"Can I at least grab another cup of coffee before we go?" Finished with his boots, Joaquin stands, stretches. His muscles are still sore, but it's not as bad as two days ago.

"Only if you promise to share."

"I might," Joaquin says with a quick grin, making it through the door a step ahead of Orlando.

***

"No, no, not bay three, for the last fucking time," Mark says, cigarette clamped between his teeth as he gestures at his clipboard. Adam, his assistant, writes furiously on his own clipboard while listening attentively. "Tell Higgins if he can't do as he's told, then he can go home. I ain't got time for his whining about how far away bay seven is."

"Think you'll have your work cut out for you," Orlando murmurs to Joaquin, as they wait with the others for Mark to give them their orders for the day.

"Doesn't seem to be in the best mood this morning, does he?" Joaquin's words are whispered, but he doesn't take his eyes from Mark.

Orlando offers a quick grin. "Maybe you can sweet talk him out of it."

Joaquin snorts, just managing to turn it into a cough when Mark looks over. "Get me in trouble," he mutters just loud enough for Orlando to hear, "and you're dead."

"You two finished your laugh fest?" Mark asks, pinning them both in place with a hard look.

Orlando fights hard to smother his smile. He's never been the recipient of one of Mark's punches, and he hopes he never has to. "All done, sir," he says. There aren't too many people he'd ever let talk to him like that and get away with it.

"Phoenix? You all done being amused?"

"Yessir," Joaquin says, careful to keep his eyes away from Mark's. If he looks up, he's not sure he can keep the grin off his face. Sweet talk him out of it, indeed.

"Good." Mark hands the clipboard to Adam. "Alright, everyone, Adam'll give you your assignments, Phoenix, you're with me." He heads inside the warehouse without a backward glance.

"I'll say a prayer for you," Orlando tells Joaquin, as solemnly as he can manage.

"Bastard," Joaquin growls, but he's got a half-smile on his face as he cuffs Orlando across the back of the head.

"Better get on before he drags you off," Orlando replies, grinning wide, and waves his goodbye as Adam gives him his assignment.

With a quick wave, Joaquin strolls into the warehouse. He doesn't take his time, but he doesn't hurry, either. The hook dangles from his fingers, gloves tucked into a back pocket, and he's smiling as he approaches Mark.

"You're in a good mood this morning," Mark says, waving out his match, squinting through the haze of smoke from his fresh cigarette as he watches Joaquin.

"Happens occasionally," Joaquin replies, stopping a few feet away. He takes a moments to rake his eyes over Mark, then meets that dark gaze again, still smiling.

"You and Bloom get everything settled, then?" And if Mark had to guess, he'd say that the two of them did a lot more than that - both of 'em look like canaries in the cream.

"Not much to settle." One shoulder lifts in a shrug, then Joaquin crosses the few feet separating them to pluck the cigarette from Mark's fingers. "But we talked, yeah," he says, taking a drag and exhaling slowly.

"Good." Mark gestures at the cigarette. "You done thieving off me?"

"You want it back?" One eyebrow lifts, and Joaquin smiles.

"Nah," and now Mark allows his own smile. "I'd rather have you owe me."

"Might make you work for it," Joaquin drawls, still smiling as he flicks ashes from the cigarette and takes another drag.

"Maybe. But I bet I can still make you beg."

"Sounds like a challenge to me."

"Well, we know how much I like them," and Mark deliberately brushes past Joaquin as he walks past, savoring the brief flash of heat.

Joaquin's chuckle is low and rich as he spins on his heel to follow Mark. "Bet I could make you like a lot more," he murmurs, pausing just long enough to grind out the cigarette beneath his heel.

Mark steps into a small, windowless office, barely big enough to hold the desk, chair and filing cabinets. "Shut the door," he instructs, crossing his arms as he gives Joaquin a level look.

A quick glance around has Joaquin smiling again. "Cozy," he says as he pushes the door closed and leans against it.

"Only got ten minutes," Mark replies quietly. "C'mere."

"Lot of things can be done in ten minutes," Joaquin says, just as quietly. He crosses the small space between them and stops just in front of Mark.

"Only interested in the one." A moment later, Mark leans in, carefully brushing a light kiss across Joaquin's lips.

"That all you interested in?" The look he gives Mark is almost challenging, but his fingers are gentle as they slide across a lightly stubbled jaw. Joaquin leans in for another slower kiss, then pulls back a little.

Mark tugs at Joaquin's belt loops until they're flush against each other. "I'd like to see you tonight, if you don't have plans already."

"Not a single one." One finger slides down Mark's throat to trace the small part of his tattoo that's visible. "You have something in mind?"

"Nothing special, no," and Mark ducks in for another kiss. "Can't be out too late, but...well. Want to get to know you better."

"I'd like that," Joaquin murmurs. Ella comes first, and he respects that. Whatever Mark feels like giving him, man... "Got any place you were wanting to go?"

"Had a place in mind, yeah. If you don't mind me choosing."

"By all means. I chose last time." A quick flash of a grin, then Joaquin's eyes darken.

It's the look -- as well as the memory of how easily Joaquin'd responded to him -- that has Mark stepping even closer, greedy hands running over Joaquin's back. "How much damage you think we could do in the next few minutes?"

"Much as we want," Joaquin replies, shifting to align his body with Mark's, pressing tight against him. Fuck, but he shouldn't be responding like this, shouldn't be letting just this little bit get to him. It's hard to resist Mark, though, and Joaquin realizes that he doesn't want to.

"Then dazzle me," Mark murmurs, and groans into their next frantic kiss.

The man wants to be dazzled... Joaquin breaks the kiss, harsh breathing loud in the tiny room. Then he grins, wicked and slow, leaning back in to run his tongue up Mark's throat. "Been thinking about you," he murmurs in Mark's ear, deftly unbuttoning Mark's jeans. His fingers slip in and curl around hard flesh, start to move.

"Tell...me," Mark grunts, pushing forward, breath coming in short pants. Jesus, but Joaquin's hands are magic. And since it's only polite to reciprocate, Mark fumbles for Joaquin's buttons.

Joaquin curls his free hand around Mark's wrist and stops him. "No," he says, teeth catching Mark's lobe as Joaquin lifts his hand. "Can't dazzle you if you're touching me."

"Hardly...seems...fair," but it's hard to object with the assured way Joaquin's moving over his cock, stroking it like he's done it a thousand times.

"Like the idea of you owing me," Joaquin whispers, hand moving over Mark in a blur. He shifts a little, nuzzles a patch of skin just below Mark's jaw.

JesusMaryandJoseph, but Joaquin's a clever sort, with hands that should be immortalized. And he wasn't kidding about his skill, either -- a skill that Mark is desperately happy about at the moment. "Fuck...feels good..."

Joaquin laughs softly, lips moving back to Mark's ear. His hand slides up, wrist twisting, and Joaquin laughs again at the resultant shudder. He growls into the next kiss, tongue curling along Mark's. His fingers tighten, slide up, down. Suddenly, nothing matters except this moment and Mark.

Mark breathes his next moan into Joaquin's lips, easily parting them for his tongue. The taste slams through him like a bullet. Please, he thinks, digging his nails into Joaquin's shoulders, holding him in place as his hips buck in supplication, in surrender.

That's it, let me... Joaquin gentles the kiss, slowly glides his hand along Mark's softening length, free hand sliding over sweat-slicked muscles to soothe the tremors. "Want to keep you just like this," he says, slowly licking his fingers clean as he watches Mark.

Mark manages a low, breathless laugh, even as his gaze snaps to the erotic sight of Joaquin sucking on his fingers. "So, you like your men limp and sated?"

Finishing with his fingers, Joaquin plants both on hands the desk, neatly capturing Mark between them. "No," he murmurs, leaning in so close their noses touch. "I like my men sated, well-fucked, and unable to forget me."

"Ain't forgot you yet," Mark replies, and smiles, even as he shivers through the aftershocks. "And if I remember, it was you that was well-fucked."

"Who knows what'll happen in the future." He breathes the words across Mark's lips, tongue darting out to chase them.

Won't be anytime soon, but Mark's feeling too good to argue. He pulls Joaquin to him, opening to the kiss, to Joaquin as much as he can. The future, and what may or may not happen, can take care of itself.

Tense muscles relax, and Joaquin sighs into the kiss. Feels good to do just this, even if it isn't going to last nearly long enough. There's work to be done.

"C'mon," Mark says, after a minute. Even though he'd much rather be doing this, he's got work that needs doing, and he's always taken his responsibilities seriously. "Think this'll be enough to last you?"

"For a while." With more than a little reluctance, Joaquin pulls away and looks around for his hook. Ah, there it is. He picks it up and glances at Mark.

"It's just gonna be dinner," Mark warns, but he's smiling as he says it. "But if you ask nice, I might give you a lift home and give you a kiss goodnight."

"Dinner'll be fine," Joaquin says, then gives Mark a wink as he grabs the doorknob. "I'll take an I.O.U. for the rest of the night. And I can ask really nice..."

"You work on that, then," Mark replies, double-checking to make sure his clothing is all straight before he joins Joaquin on the warehouse floor. "We're in bay three. Don't trust Higgins as far as I can throw his lazy ass."

"Problems?" Joaquin asks, all business now as he tugs on his gloves and follows Mark to the bay in question.

"Just with following orders," Mark replies, and tugs on his own gloves. "But what job don't have its problems, y'know?"

"I hear ya. But that's why you're the boss." Joaquin grins at the look he receives, taking time to stretch before continuing. "No one else wants to put up with 'em."

"Exactly right." But it's nice to think that people like Joaquin and Orlando have the same problems getting workers to obey orders. The thought amuses him well into the morning, as he and Joaquin settle into a well-tuned rhythm.