Fic: Mathematics, Dom/Orli, R
Looky!
This is dedicated to Dee, cupiscent, as a much belated b'day fic. Enjoy darling :)
Title: Mathematics
Author: girloftheq
Rating: R
Pairing: Dorli
Disclaimer: Not mine.
Mathematics
Dom had never been very good at mathematics in school. Reading was much more his thing. 2+2=5. Or it should. But now, tangled in linen and draped over Orlando, he could suddenly see the beauty of the language. Math, the universal language, he thought as he skittered his fingers across Orli’s skin and vertebrae. Smoothed his hand slowly, languidly, back towards him across the other’s back. Or was it love? The universal language that is. Either way really.
The thing was, though, with mathematics and all, was that it was never applied to anything that made sense to Dom. He seemed to remember his math teacher droning on about mathematicians seeking out true statements. But what was true about numbers? No…his brain didn’t bend that way.
Orlando slept, but Dom studied.
Orlando made sense to Dom.
He swept his fingers up to the nape of Orlando’s neck and then slowly, slowly, let them follow the spine downwards, one bump and then the next, bone under the softest sliver of the softest skin. A slight pause, a hitch in Dom’s fingers at the line running through the trajectory of spine…right angles and dissection. Wrong. A pause. Always a pause. Continuing, he kept following the graph of Orlando’s back, came to the end of his spine. He loved the triangle at the bottom of Orlando’s spine. Was it a right-angled triangle, or that equal one? Well he certainly couldn’t remember that. But it didn’t matter; the point was that suddenly mathematics made a certain kind of sense.
He settled back on his side, flush up against a sleep warmed body, tucked his top leg possessively over Orli’s. Watched him breathe; softly up, softly down. Like one of those sine/cos/tan graphs he remembered being the bane of his existence. He grinned wryly that he could remember that at all. Propped his head up on his arm and observed the sleeping Orlando next to him.
He quite liked this little theory. It worked well.
Orlando was definitely all angles and curves. Hot curves that writhed in and out, concave and convex. Dom could see him, only hours earlier, all silk and muscles underneath him. Back arching up into a concave curve of its normal position, unsticking from the damp, wrenched-crooked sheets. Orlando’s taught stomach convexing into Dom’s. God yeah. Angles formed by arms and hipbones, hands and hardened need. Hot and sticky and meshed together, forming a grid of sex.
Dom leaned in closer, breathed in deeply the scent of Orlando’s hair. Musk. He wondered if there was a mathematic equation about smell. Probably not. There should be though, because the smell of Orlando did things to him that had to have a scientific reason. The addition of him and the scent of Orli equaling the rise of…well. There just had to be, that’s all.
And getting to this point would certainly fit the definition of an algorithm. What was that? Steps to solving a problem? Steps like eye contact just longer than the normal time, accidental caresses when walking in parallel, the final thrust up against a plane and infusion of tongues. Solution. Truth. Logic.
Dom leaned in further, ran the tip of his tongue along the curve of Orlando’s throat, soft, wet and warm to his earlobe. Orlando stirred slightly. So did Dom. He took Orli’s earlobe into his mouth, sucked and teased lightly with his teeth. The increase and slight erratic nature breathing by the other made Dom grin. This made sense. Moved his arm over Orlando’s back, followed a rib down and tucked his fingers just under the chest.
Pressed forward until he knew Orli could feel him against his hip.
A groan and a shudder, “god sblom”. Turning, meshing, equations, additions, subtractions, (no multiplications he thought with a grin before Orli’s mouth silenced all thought), moans and gasps, mouths and hands, exponential curves graphing the rise up to release. Moments of infinity.
In the back of his mind the thought kept weaving in and out around the pleasure that when all the statements in a mathematical theory were proven correct then things were said to be complete. Whole.
There was a truth about him and Orli.
Maybe he was good at math after all.
This is dedicated to Dee, cupiscent, as a much belated b'day fic. Enjoy darling :)
Title: Mathematics
Author: girloftheq
Rating: R
Pairing: Dorli
Disclaimer: Not mine.
Mathematics
Dom had never been very good at mathematics in school. Reading was much more his thing. 2+2=5. Or it should. But now, tangled in linen and draped over Orlando, he could suddenly see the beauty of the language. Math, the universal language, he thought as he skittered his fingers across Orli’s skin and vertebrae. Smoothed his hand slowly, languidly, back towards him across the other’s back. Or was it love? The universal language that is. Either way really.
The thing was, though, with mathematics and all, was that it was never applied to anything that made sense to Dom. He seemed to remember his math teacher droning on about mathematicians seeking out true statements. But what was true about numbers? No…his brain didn’t bend that way.
Orlando slept, but Dom studied.
Orlando made sense to Dom.
He swept his fingers up to the nape of Orlando’s neck and then slowly, slowly, let them follow the spine downwards, one bump and then the next, bone under the softest sliver of the softest skin. A slight pause, a hitch in Dom’s fingers at the line running through the trajectory of spine…right angles and dissection. Wrong. A pause. Always a pause. Continuing, he kept following the graph of Orlando’s back, came to the end of his spine. He loved the triangle at the bottom of Orlando’s spine. Was it a right-angled triangle, or that equal one? Well he certainly couldn’t remember that. But it didn’t matter; the point was that suddenly mathematics made a certain kind of sense.
He settled back on his side, flush up against a sleep warmed body, tucked his top leg possessively over Orli’s. Watched him breathe; softly up, softly down. Like one of those sine/cos/tan graphs he remembered being the bane of his existence. He grinned wryly that he could remember that at all. Propped his head up on his arm and observed the sleeping Orlando next to him.
He quite liked this little theory. It worked well.
Orlando was definitely all angles and curves. Hot curves that writhed in and out, concave and convex. Dom could see him, only hours earlier, all silk and muscles underneath him. Back arching up into a concave curve of its normal position, unsticking from the damp, wrenched-crooked sheets. Orlando’s taught stomach convexing into Dom’s. God yeah. Angles formed by arms and hipbones, hands and hardened need. Hot and sticky and meshed together, forming a grid of sex.
Dom leaned in closer, breathed in deeply the scent of Orlando’s hair. Musk. He wondered if there was a mathematic equation about smell. Probably not. There should be though, because the smell of Orlando did things to him that had to have a scientific reason. The addition of him and the scent of Orli equaling the rise of…well. There just had to be, that’s all.
And getting to this point would certainly fit the definition of an algorithm. What was that? Steps to solving a problem? Steps like eye contact just longer than the normal time, accidental caresses when walking in parallel, the final thrust up against a plane and infusion of tongues. Solution. Truth. Logic.
Dom leaned in further, ran the tip of his tongue along the curve of Orlando’s throat, soft, wet and warm to his earlobe. Orlando stirred slightly. So did Dom. He took Orli’s earlobe into his mouth, sucked and teased lightly with his teeth. The increase and slight erratic nature breathing by the other made Dom grin. This made sense. Moved his arm over Orlando’s back, followed a rib down and tucked his fingers just under the chest.
Pressed forward until he knew Orli could feel him against his hip.
A groan and a shudder, “god sblom”. Turning, meshing, equations, additions, subtractions, (no multiplications he thought with a grin before Orli’s mouth silenced all thought), moans and gasps, mouths and hands, exponential curves graphing the rise up to release. Moments of infinity.
In the back of his mind the thought kept weaving in and out around the pleasure that when all the statements in a mathematical theory were proven correct then things were said to be complete. Whole.
There was a truth about him and Orli.
Maybe he was good at math after all.