Fic: Paint, Dom/Orli, R
Title: Paint
Pairing: Dom/Orli
Rating: R
Summary: Paint, Dom, Orli and discovery.
Disclaimer: Didn't happen, don't own 'em.
Tried a present/past thingy, but i'm not sure it's worked entirely...need to read through it again when i'm awake, just a warning ;) I might post it again when i've read through it in the day time. Meanwhile, enjoy! :)
* * *
Paint
* * *
Now - Dom
* * *
Orlando’s teeth are on his neck, teasing the tendons with sharp edges, tightening in a bite that makes him jerk in surprise. He’s lightheaded, and only vaguely aware of what’s going on in the world that doesn’t exist under Orlando’s mouth. His fingers are gripping Orlando’s hips, one finger hooking through a belt loop of his jeans. In return an arm is curled around his shoulder, a hand at the back of his head, fingers twisting in his hair and pulling him closer. Anatomy of an arm at full use.
And god, how on earth did they get to this, Dom thinks, arching his neck into the warm mouth of his friend, pushing closer. Standing there, in the middle of the living room surrounded by white sheeted furniture, splashes of color and covered in paint smears. Discarded beer bottles forgotten on the shrouded coffee table.
Dom’s grip tightens on Orlando’s waist, anchoring him close. Orlando only presses closer in reply. God. He wants to think, to maybe pay attention, remember the seconds in the event that they aren’t repeated, but coherency has abandoned him. Orlando shifts his mouth from his throat, captures his earlobe with a nip and then is gently sucking.
"Oh fuck me," Dom gasps out in harsh staccato.
"I plan to," Orlando growls, breath vibrating hot in Dom’s ear.
"Uh," Dom freezes, fails to find the right thing to say.
Orlando pulls back, equally thrown by the situation, by his own declaration, brown eyes surprised and full of arousal. Dom manages a half smile, a twist of his mouth, and Orlando grins back and suddenly they’re both smiling, an acknowledgement that the situation is weird, and was certainly not expected. But is not necessarily unwanted.
* * *
Earlier - Orlando
* * *
Orlando surveyed the room with distrust. It seemed much smaller the other day. Now, he thought, it had somehow expanded to cavernous, filled with the strange white rock formations made by Dom’s furniture.
"You can’t back out now, man." Dom read the frown creasing the skin between his eyes.
"Fuck...how do you manage to talk me into this shit?" he grumbled, not really meaning it but needing to voice his discontent with an appropriate amount of petulance.
"Charm and boyish good looks," Dom replied cheerily and set two cans of paint on the floor.
He chose to ignore him and instead nudged one of the cans of paint with his sock clad foot. "What color?"
"Two actually, blue, navy blue sort of, dark anyway, and white," Dom indicated the back wall with a wave of his hand, "The blue is for that wall, all the rest are white."
Orlando looked around, imagining the intended color scheme. Hmm ... "You have red furniture."
"So?" a puzzled look from Dom.
He shrugged, "Nothing, it’s just very British don’t ya think?"
Dom frowned, looked concerned for a moment and then snapped back to cheery, "Well I have to lure you over here somehow don’t I?"
* * *
Earlier - Dom
* * *
There was a white smear of paint on Orlando’s cheek and it was taunting Dom.
They were standing side by side, Dom using the roller to coat the top corner of the wall with paint, Orlando with a brush, filling in the corners. As well as the white smear, his fingers on one hand were painted too. Dark blue lined the inside of Orlando’s fingernails, filled the creases in his knuckles. Dom’s eyes caught the blue smears each time Orlando raised his brush up. Then they followed the arm up to the face, the white smear on the cheek contrasting the color of his skin to a dark bronze.
Finishing up the corner Dom balanced the roller in the tray, wiped his hands on his jeans. "Want a drink?"
"Yeah, mate, you got a beer?" Orlando replied, squinting at the corner, all his concentration focused on not getting the blue on the white.
"Sure."
When he returned the wall was finished and Orlando was on the floor, back against the couch and legs splayed out in front of him. Dom handed him the bottle, sat down next to him and mimicked the position. "Looks pretty good," he said, raised his eyebrows at the wall and took a gulp of the cold liquid, tried not to notice the blue fingers clutching the bottle next to him.
"That’s ‘cause you have a master painter like me," Orlando said smugly, took a swig.
Dom kicked Orlando’s foot with his own. "Whatever, man."
Orlando kicked back, "Fucker, you know it is, ‘else you wouldn’t have asked me to help."
"Knew I shoulda asked Lij."
Orlando turned, ready to protest, and Dom found himself looking directly into his eyes. Images of coffee swirled in his mind, dark and hot.
He swallowed, thought he saw Orlando swallow too, and was suddenly worried about what his eyes were sharing as he continued to look into those in front of him. The white cheek smudge was just there, so close, and Dom suddenly ached to touch it.
"Lij would have made a mess," Orlando said, voice barely above a whisper, staring back unwaveringly.
"Probably," he breathed out, leaned in.
* * *
Now - Orlando
* * *
At some point they’ve made it to a standing position and Orlando is inches in front of Dom. "That was...fucking odd," he remarks.
"Hell yeah," Dom replies, doesn’t move away and continues to stare at him. The blue of the wall and that of Dom’s eyes are blurring his vision.
He considers his next sentence, unsure of where he wants to go. He’s never done this before, never thought of doing it with Dom. He liked it though. Gives up on another sentence, that would probably sound stupid, and with a cautious glance he leans in and presses his lips back to Dom’s.
It isn’t like kissing a girl, he thinks, but he isn’t sure why. The lips against his are soft, tender and fluid as they open to him.
This is Dom his head keeps repeating in surprise. His body already knows.
Dom’s pressing against him again, a hand pulling him closer more urgently now. They hadn’t planned it, but it was suddenly imperative to their very survival. A step backwards and suddenly Dom’s on the sheeted couch and he’s on Dom, and somewhere he’s sure that he would normally be thinking this through a lot more.
Orlando gasps sharply as Dom pushes up with his hips, grinding into him. What the hell, he thinks, they’re just two guys...two friends, they shared an experience, why not share some more.
He groans, pushing down into Dom, wanting to push through the damn couch.
"Fuck me," Dom exclaims again with a deep throated grunt, the intensity of the situation unbelievable considering the spontaneity with which it occurred.
"I plan to," he answers with a grin...and this time there’s no pause.
* * *
End.
Pairing: Dom/Orli
Rating: R
Summary: Paint, Dom, Orli and discovery.
Disclaimer: Didn't happen, don't own 'em.
Tried a present/past thingy, but i'm not sure it's worked entirely...need to read through it again when i'm awake, just a warning ;) I might post it again when i've read through it in the day time. Meanwhile, enjoy! :)
* * *
Paint
* * *
Now - Dom
* * *
Orlando’s teeth are on his neck, teasing the tendons with sharp edges, tightening in a bite that makes him jerk in surprise. He’s lightheaded, and only vaguely aware of what’s going on in the world that doesn’t exist under Orlando’s mouth. His fingers are gripping Orlando’s hips, one finger hooking through a belt loop of his jeans. In return an arm is curled around his shoulder, a hand at the back of his head, fingers twisting in his hair and pulling him closer. Anatomy of an arm at full use.
And god, how on earth did they get to this, Dom thinks, arching his neck into the warm mouth of his friend, pushing closer. Standing there, in the middle of the living room surrounded by white sheeted furniture, splashes of color and covered in paint smears. Discarded beer bottles forgotten on the shrouded coffee table.
Dom’s grip tightens on Orlando’s waist, anchoring him close. Orlando only presses closer in reply. God. He wants to think, to maybe pay attention, remember the seconds in the event that they aren’t repeated, but coherency has abandoned him. Orlando shifts his mouth from his throat, captures his earlobe with a nip and then is gently sucking.
"Oh fuck me," Dom gasps out in harsh staccato.
"I plan to," Orlando growls, breath vibrating hot in Dom’s ear.
"Uh," Dom freezes, fails to find the right thing to say.
Orlando pulls back, equally thrown by the situation, by his own declaration, brown eyes surprised and full of arousal. Dom manages a half smile, a twist of his mouth, and Orlando grins back and suddenly they’re both smiling, an acknowledgement that the situation is weird, and was certainly not expected. But is not necessarily unwanted.
* * *
Earlier - Orlando
* * *
Orlando surveyed the room with distrust. It seemed much smaller the other day. Now, he thought, it had somehow expanded to cavernous, filled with the strange white rock formations made by Dom’s furniture.
"You can’t back out now, man." Dom read the frown creasing the skin between his eyes.
"Fuck...how do you manage to talk me into this shit?" he grumbled, not really meaning it but needing to voice his discontent with an appropriate amount of petulance.
"Charm and boyish good looks," Dom replied cheerily and set two cans of paint on the floor.
He chose to ignore him and instead nudged one of the cans of paint with his sock clad foot. "What color?"
"Two actually, blue, navy blue sort of, dark anyway, and white," Dom indicated the back wall with a wave of his hand, "The blue is for that wall, all the rest are white."
Orlando looked around, imagining the intended color scheme. Hmm ... "You have red furniture."
"So?" a puzzled look from Dom.
He shrugged, "Nothing, it’s just very British don’t ya think?"
Dom frowned, looked concerned for a moment and then snapped back to cheery, "Well I have to lure you over here somehow don’t I?"
* * *
Earlier - Dom
* * *
There was a white smear of paint on Orlando’s cheek and it was taunting Dom.
They were standing side by side, Dom using the roller to coat the top corner of the wall with paint, Orlando with a brush, filling in the corners. As well as the white smear, his fingers on one hand were painted too. Dark blue lined the inside of Orlando’s fingernails, filled the creases in his knuckles. Dom’s eyes caught the blue smears each time Orlando raised his brush up. Then they followed the arm up to the face, the white smear on the cheek contrasting the color of his skin to a dark bronze.
Finishing up the corner Dom balanced the roller in the tray, wiped his hands on his jeans. "Want a drink?"
"Yeah, mate, you got a beer?" Orlando replied, squinting at the corner, all his concentration focused on not getting the blue on the white.
"Sure."
When he returned the wall was finished and Orlando was on the floor, back against the couch and legs splayed out in front of him. Dom handed him the bottle, sat down next to him and mimicked the position. "Looks pretty good," he said, raised his eyebrows at the wall and took a gulp of the cold liquid, tried not to notice the blue fingers clutching the bottle next to him.
"That’s ‘cause you have a master painter like me," Orlando said smugly, took a swig.
Dom kicked Orlando’s foot with his own. "Whatever, man."
Orlando kicked back, "Fucker, you know it is, ‘else you wouldn’t have asked me to help."
"Knew I shoulda asked Lij."
Orlando turned, ready to protest, and Dom found himself looking directly into his eyes. Images of coffee swirled in his mind, dark and hot.
He swallowed, thought he saw Orlando swallow too, and was suddenly worried about what his eyes were sharing as he continued to look into those in front of him. The white cheek smudge was just there, so close, and Dom suddenly ached to touch it.
"Lij would have made a mess," Orlando said, voice barely above a whisper, staring back unwaveringly.
"Probably," he breathed out, leaned in.
* * *
Now - Orlando
* * *
At some point they’ve made it to a standing position and Orlando is inches in front of Dom. "That was...fucking odd," he remarks.
"Hell yeah," Dom replies, doesn’t move away and continues to stare at him. The blue of the wall and that of Dom’s eyes are blurring his vision.
He considers his next sentence, unsure of where he wants to go. He’s never done this before, never thought of doing it with Dom. He liked it though. Gives up on another sentence, that would probably sound stupid, and with a cautious glance he leans in and presses his lips back to Dom’s.
It isn’t like kissing a girl, he thinks, but he isn’t sure why. The lips against his are soft, tender and fluid as they open to him.
This is Dom his head keeps repeating in surprise. His body already knows.
Dom’s pressing against him again, a hand pulling him closer more urgently now. They hadn’t planned it, but it was suddenly imperative to their very survival. A step backwards and suddenly Dom’s on the sheeted couch and he’s on Dom, and somewhere he’s sure that he would normally be thinking this through a lot more.
Orlando gasps sharply as Dom pushes up with his hips, grinding into him. What the hell, he thinks, they’re just two guys...two friends, they shared an experience, why not share some more.
He groans, pushing down into Dom, wanting to push through the damn couch.
"Fuck me," Dom exclaims again with a deep throated grunt, the intensity of the situation unbelievable considering the spontaneity with which it occurred.
"I plan to," he answers with a grin...and this time there’s no pause.
* * *
End.