Fic: Sky Blue Sound, Dom/Orli, NC-17
Title: Sky Blue Sound
Pairing: Dom/Orli
Rating: NC-17
Notes: Thanks go to Dee!
Disclaimer: not mine in any way
Feedback: Makes the world pretty!!
When they got to the hotel that night, both of them exhausted, there was no question of one room or two. There would be gossip in either event. Sometimes, on those days with more fans, more friends, more family, they’d play it safe. Modicum of decorum and all that rot.
But not if they could help it.
Orlando watched Dom swipe the keycard to ‘his’ room and didn’t even blink when the red light on the lock failed to turn green. Dom swiped the card again and practically fell in the door when it blissfully cooperated.
Not a bad room, nothing special, nothing horrendous; lots of chocolate brown and beige paint and mood lighting. As long as it had a bed it was fine. Hell, even just a floor would do right about now. Dom began his normal exploration of the fridge, channels on the tv, the firmness of the bed. Ritual.
Orlando followed him in, toting giveaway bags from the night’s appearance, tried not to trip over his own feet. Mind you, that would end with him on the floor. And that would be a bad thing how? He was much too wiped out to find any reason right now.
Orlando’s stomach rumbled. “I’m hungry…Are you hungry?”
Dom bounced heavily ass-first onto the bed, collapsed dramatically onto his back. Thought about the question. A shake of the head, rumples in the covers to either side. “Not really.” He sat up and dragged himself backwards, sneakers pushing into the covers, till he was able to rest against the large pillows, legs splayed out in front. He closed his eyes gratefully, opened them again, “Wait, yes, I am. Can’t be fucked though.”
Orlando rubbed his eyes with his fists and kicked his runners off. Felt quite satisfied at the ‘thwump’ they made as they hit the kitchenette wall. Padded sock-clad feet across the carpet to the bed. “We’ll eat tomorrow,” he muttered, crawled onto the bed and collapsed face down next to Dom. Mumbled into the mattress near Dom’s thigh, “Or maybe the next day.”
He pushed himself up onto his arms, felt the tremble of fatigue threaten to give way and quickly pushed over onto his back. The satisfaction of not being standing really oughtn’t be underestimated he thought. A hand snaked over his shoulder.
“What’s with the zipper?” Dom asked, fingers playing with the one at Orlando’s collar.
“Don’t like it?” Orlando asked, raising his eyebrows and looking upside down at Dom. The black beanie slipped forward and made the top of his vision a fuzzy black. He pulled it off, tossed it over the side of the bed and ran a hand through the unruly mess of flattened curls.
Dom’s brow crinkled, “I dunno.” He ran the zip up the teeth, metal ratcheting loudly against metal, until the black collar pulled up and closed around Orlando’s neck, kept pulling until the zip begin to press coldly into skin before pulling the zip back down, revealing more and more warm-toned throat.
Dom grinned, “On further inspection I’ve decided this has its advantages.”
“Imagine,” Orlando scoffed, stretched his arms out as if making a snow angel in the bed; one hand dangling over the side of the bed while the other arm rested over Dom’s thighs.
Dom continued to zip and unzip the sweater, tiredly mesmerized by the covering and uncovering of Orlando. For his part, Orlando yawned. Closed his eyes and enjoyed the gentle tug and pull of Dom’s playing. Smiled as Dom’s hand came up with the zip and he felt warm side-brushes of fingers under his chin.
“You’ve been dressing different lately.”
“Have I?” Orlando opened his eyes, fixed them on the pale beige of the ceiling.
“Yes…more…different.”
Orlando shifted sideways, angling diagonally so that he could see Dom. The hand fell from the zip onto the bed beside. “Different how?”
Dom shrugged. “I dunno. No more of those fucking ugly shirts.”
“Well you should be happy then,” he countered, unsure why his stomach wanted to curl. “You hate those.”
“Yes,” Dom agreed, mouth slightly twitched in a smile.
Orlando watched as Dom unconsciously played with the end of his shirt sleeve, ran his thumb over the button of the opened cuff. “They were very you though.”
He didn’t know quite how to respond to that; just shrugged awkwardly against the bed.
“It’s not a bad thing,” Dom added quickly, “Just different.”
“Maybe I’m different.” Orlando said, wondered if he was.
“Maybe.”
“Besides,” Orlando said, settling back properly into the bed again, “You dress different too now. For one thing, you don’t look like Elijah’s twin anymore.”
“Well that can only be a blessing,” Dom snorted, ran a hand across the facial hair of his jaw.
“Has to be,” Orlando grinned. Felt the queasiness in his stomach ebb. “Dork looks like he dressed in his sleep.”
“Probably bloody does.” Silence. “So you gonna wear one of them things the rest of your life?” Dom asked motioning at the sky blue bandana wrapped in stark contrast around Orlando’s brown wrist.
Orlando held his arm up straight. He liked the way it looked. It was his thing now. He brought his arm back down, cradled it over his chest. “We said we’d keep them secret.”
“…keep them safe,” Dom finished the movie line with a fleeting grin. “And I know. But Elijah’s showing his off every chance he gets to bare a bit of skin. The whore. Why keep it covered.”
The queasy feeling was back. Orlando looked back up at the ceiling. “I don’t know…Fuck. Why does it matter?” He hadn’t meant the slight tinge of venom to seep in there.
Dom shrugged, much too nonchalantly. “It doesn’t. Just seems weird not to want people to see it is all. They know it’s there.”
“They know everything. Why show them then.”
Another shrug. No comment.
He didn’t know why this was making him feel defensive. Didn’t want to analyse the reason either. “The more they know the less I have.”
Dom didn’t reply right away, and Orlando thought he’d keep silent, but finally he spoke, “Yeah, I know.”
“Do you?” Orlando asked looking up sharply at Dom, didn’t like the way the bitterness tasted in his mouth.
“Yeah, Orli, I do…” Dom answered seriously, and Orlando thought that perhaps he did. There was a reason Dom’s clothes were getting more ‘in’. More persona driven. Hotter. He knew.
His stomach flipped over back to normal again and Orlando suddenly felt a hundred times more tired than he had a moment ago. He sat up, untangled limbs in order to move forward on his knees, sat down beside Dom and leant against the headboard and pillows with him. He slid sideways so their upper arms were touching. His wrapped-up wrist settled in the crevice between their thighs.
He didn’t want his memories muddy and scratched. He wanted to keep it away from prying eyes and scratching pens. Wanted to wrap the fellowship up in a soft, warm, yard of sky blue cotton where it would be safe.
Dom pressed against his arm, turned his hand over so he could lightly grasp Orlando’s wrist, thumb smoothing over the soft skin. “I didn’t mean to…you know, be an asshole or whatever.”
“S’okay,” Orlando replied and half meant it.
Dom turned his head towards Orlando, eyes dark grey and large in the ambient hotel lighting. But he didn’t say anything once more, and Orlando didn’t know how he was meant to react, what he was meant to say, and it was making him more and more uncomfortable. So he leant forward and pressed his mouth to Dom’s.
He felt the slight start that Dom gave, but it only lasted a second and then his lips became softer. Orlando pressed firmer, determined to steer the feeling towards something they knew, something they enjoyed. Dom started to soften beneath his mouth, his lips parted to allow access. Slow, very slow.
The silence was still overwhelming though, nothing but the almost-sounds of the soft rustle of the sheets beneath them. He felt as if it was so quiet he could almost hear the red glow of the numbers on the alarm clock next to the bed. The intensity of its absence was smothering and Orlando wished for anything to break it. The tick of a clock, slam of a door or domestic arguing in a neighboring room.
He reached his hand, the one with the bandana, over across Dom’s thigh. Curled his fingertips in-between the denim wrapped legs and elicited a mumbled groan. Relief flooded him at the sound of…well, sound. And the action spurred Dom into more than just noise, and Orlando was pressed sideways into the bed, pinned by heavy limbs. A familiar feeling that he welcomed.
His hands went to Dom’s hips, anchored him to him, couldn’t help, welcomed even, the guttural gasps that pulled out of him as Dom pressed and ground against his own hips. Automatic, ritualized motions, but ones that gave way, as they always did, to fluidity and heat. Dom’s mouth was in control now, melding against his, tongue determined and rough. It slipped away, leaving Orlando’s lips swollen and wet, and he felt Dom against his neck, biting and suckling, bruising the skin. Like he always did.
Orlando spread his legs, letting the weight of Dom’s lower body settle between them, pressing them closer. He arched up against Dom, groaning at the friction, the press of himself inside his ever tightening jeans. In turn, Dom rocked against him, pressing and rubbing and pushing himself against Orlando.
Their sweat-dampened skin was begging release from their clothes. Dom levered himself up, pulled at the black zipped jumper at the same time that Orlando began working on Dom’s clothes. Curling, frantic fingers, pushing at buttons, pulling at zips. Touch. Skin. Shudder.
Orlando rolled and Dom was underneath now, Orlando was back in control. Arms pinned beside body, fingers clenched. As always, he slowed down, let the heat and electricity between their hot skin rest for just a few moments. Slow as he eased them together. But only until neither of them could stand it anymore. Dom was flushed and his eyes were sparkling with arousal. But he didn’t say anything, didn’t ask, or taunt or beg. Kept silent.
Orlando sped up anyway, didn’t matter if Dom didn’t say another fucking word. Faster, harder, over and over and over until his actions weren’t even controlled by him anymore. Built up until he had to come tumbling down. Falling right into Dom as he began his own plummet from unsafe heights.
Collapse and silence.
Or maybe it wasn’t quiet. Hadn’t been at all. Perhaps Dom had been louder, needy and vocal. Talking and goading like he normally did during sex. Perhaps, and he wasn’t quite sure why, he just hadn’t heard it. Had made up the silence, like he was making it up now. But Orlando wanted it, real or imagined. Cocooned himself in the solidifying air. Tuned out the rasped breathing of Dom, sprawled naked and unguarded next to him.
The blue cotton had come askew from his wrist, and showed flashes of tan and ink. He tightened it with tired, slow fingers. Even though Dom was the only one there and there was no need to protect it. If that’s what he was doing. And wasn’t it?
He pulled it tighter and hid the tendrils of doubt that threatened to creep.
When he woke in the morning, still tangled in the half-made bed and Dom, it was to the earsplitting ring of the wake-up call.
Pairing: Dom/Orli
Rating: NC-17
Notes: Thanks go to Dee!
Disclaimer: not mine in any way
Feedback: Makes the world pretty!!
When they got to the hotel that night, both of them exhausted, there was no question of one room or two. There would be gossip in either event. Sometimes, on those days with more fans, more friends, more family, they’d play it safe. Modicum of decorum and all that rot.
But not if they could help it.
Orlando watched Dom swipe the keycard to ‘his’ room and didn’t even blink when the red light on the lock failed to turn green. Dom swiped the card again and practically fell in the door when it blissfully cooperated.
Not a bad room, nothing special, nothing horrendous; lots of chocolate brown and beige paint and mood lighting. As long as it had a bed it was fine. Hell, even just a floor would do right about now. Dom began his normal exploration of the fridge, channels on the tv, the firmness of the bed. Ritual.
Orlando followed him in, toting giveaway bags from the night’s appearance, tried not to trip over his own feet. Mind you, that would end with him on the floor. And that would be a bad thing how? He was much too wiped out to find any reason right now.
Orlando’s stomach rumbled. “I’m hungry…Are you hungry?”
Dom bounced heavily ass-first onto the bed, collapsed dramatically onto his back. Thought about the question. A shake of the head, rumples in the covers to either side. “Not really.” He sat up and dragged himself backwards, sneakers pushing into the covers, till he was able to rest against the large pillows, legs splayed out in front. He closed his eyes gratefully, opened them again, “Wait, yes, I am. Can’t be fucked though.”
Orlando rubbed his eyes with his fists and kicked his runners off. Felt quite satisfied at the ‘thwump’ they made as they hit the kitchenette wall. Padded sock-clad feet across the carpet to the bed. “We’ll eat tomorrow,” he muttered, crawled onto the bed and collapsed face down next to Dom. Mumbled into the mattress near Dom’s thigh, “Or maybe the next day.”
He pushed himself up onto his arms, felt the tremble of fatigue threaten to give way and quickly pushed over onto his back. The satisfaction of not being standing really oughtn’t be underestimated he thought. A hand snaked over his shoulder.
“What’s with the zipper?” Dom asked, fingers playing with the one at Orlando’s collar.
“Don’t like it?” Orlando asked, raising his eyebrows and looking upside down at Dom. The black beanie slipped forward and made the top of his vision a fuzzy black. He pulled it off, tossed it over the side of the bed and ran a hand through the unruly mess of flattened curls.
Dom’s brow crinkled, “I dunno.” He ran the zip up the teeth, metal ratcheting loudly against metal, until the black collar pulled up and closed around Orlando’s neck, kept pulling until the zip begin to press coldly into skin before pulling the zip back down, revealing more and more warm-toned throat.
Dom grinned, “On further inspection I’ve decided this has its advantages.”
“Imagine,” Orlando scoffed, stretched his arms out as if making a snow angel in the bed; one hand dangling over the side of the bed while the other arm rested over Dom’s thighs.
Dom continued to zip and unzip the sweater, tiredly mesmerized by the covering and uncovering of Orlando. For his part, Orlando yawned. Closed his eyes and enjoyed the gentle tug and pull of Dom’s playing. Smiled as Dom’s hand came up with the zip and he felt warm side-brushes of fingers under his chin.
“You’ve been dressing different lately.”
“Have I?” Orlando opened his eyes, fixed them on the pale beige of the ceiling.
“Yes…more…different.”
Orlando shifted sideways, angling diagonally so that he could see Dom. The hand fell from the zip onto the bed beside. “Different how?”
Dom shrugged. “I dunno. No more of those fucking ugly shirts.”
“Well you should be happy then,” he countered, unsure why his stomach wanted to curl. “You hate those.”
“Yes,” Dom agreed, mouth slightly twitched in a smile.
Orlando watched as Dom unconsciously played with the end of his shirt sleeve, ran his thumb over the button of the opened cuff. “They were very you though.”
He didn’t know quite how to respond to that; just shrugged awkwardly against the bed.
“It’s not a bad thing,” Dom added quickly, “Just different.”
“Maybe I’m different.” Orlando said, wondered if he was.
“Maybe.”
“Besides,” Orlando said, settling back properly into the bed again, “You dress different too now. For one thing, you don’t look like Elijah’s twin anymore.”
“Well that can only be a blessing,” Dom snorted, ran a hand across the facial hair of his jaw.
“Has to be,” Orlando grinned. Felt the queasiness in his stomach ebb. “Dork looks like he dressed in his sleep.”
“Probably bloody does.” Silence. “So you gonna wear one of them things the rest of your life?” Dom asked motioning at the sky blue bandana wrapped in stark contrast around Orlando’s brown wrist.
Orlando held his arm up straight. He liked the way it looked. It was his thing now. He brought his arm back down, cradled it over his chest. “We said we’d keep them secret.”
“…keep them safe,” Dom finished the movie line with a fleeting grin. “And I know. But Elijah’s showing his off every chance he gets to bare a bit of skin. The whore. Why keep it covered.”
The queasy feeling was back. Orlando looked back up at the ceiling. “I don’t know…Fuck. Why does it matter?” He hadn’t meant the slight tinge of venom to seep in there.
Dom shrugged, much too nonchalantly. “It doesn’t. Just seems weird not to want people to see it is all. They know it’s there.”
“They know everything. Why show them then.”
Another shrug. No comment.
He didn’t know why this was making him feel defensive. Didn’t want to analyse the reason either. “The more they know the less I have.”
Dom didn’t reply right away, and Orlando thought he’d keep silent, but finally he spoke, “Yeah, I know.”
“Do you?” Orlando asked looking up sharply at Dom, didn’t like the way the bitterness tasted in his mouth.
“Yeah, Orli, I do…” Dom answered seriously, and Orlando thought that perhaps he did. There was a reason Dom’s clothes were getting more ‘in’. More persona driven. Hotter. He knew.
His stomach flipped over back to normal again and Orlando suddenly felt a hundred times more tired than he had a moment ago. He sat up, untangled limbs in order to move forward on his knees, sat down beside Dom and leant against the headboard and pillows with him. He slid sideways so their upper arms were touching. His wrapped-up wrist settled in the crevice between their thighs.
He didn’t want his memories muddy and scratched. He wanted to keep it away from prying eyes and scratching pens. Wanted to wrap the fellowship up in a soft, warm, yard of sky blue cotton where it would be safe.
Dom pressed against his arm, turned his hand over so he could lightly grasp Orlando’s wrist, thumb smoothing over the soft skin. “I didn’t mean to…you know, be an asshole or whatever.”
“S’okay,” Orlando replied and half meant it.
Dom turned his head towards Orlando, eyes dark grey and large in the ambient hotel lighting. But he didn’t say anything once more, and Orlando didn’t know how he was meant to react, what he was meant to say, and it was making him more and more uncomfortable. So he leant forward and pressed his mouth to Dom’s.
He felt the slight start that Dom gave, but it only lasted a second and then his lips became softer. Orlando pressed firmer, determined to steer the feeling towards something they knew, something they enjoyed. Dom started to soften beneath his mouth, his lips parted to allow access. Slow, very slow.
The silence was still overwhelming though, nothing but the almost-sounds of the soft rustle of the sheets beneath them. He felt as if it was so quiet he could almost hear the red glow of the numbers on the alarm clock next to the bed. The intensity of its absence was smothering and Orlando wished for anything to break it. The tick of a clock, slam of a door or domestic arguing in a neighboring room.
He reached his hand, the one with the bandana, over across Dom’s thigh. Curled his fingertips in-between the denim wrapped legs and elicited a mumbled groan. Relief flooded him at the sound of…well, sound. And the action spurred Dom into more than just noise, and Orlando was pressed sideways into the bed, pinned by heavy limbs. A familiar feeling that he welcomed.
His hands went to Dom’s hips, anchored him to him, couldn’t help, welcomed even, the guttural gasps that pulled out of him as Dom pressed and ground against his own hips. Automatic, ritualized motions, but ones that gave way, as they always did, to fluidity and heat. Dom’s mouth was in control now, melding against his, tongue determined and rough. It slipped away, leaving Orlando’s lips swollen and wet, and he felt Dom against his neck, biting and suckling, bruising the skin. Like he always did.
Orlando spread his legs, letting the weight of Dom’s lower body settle between them, pressing them closer. He arched up against Dom, groaning at the friction, the press of himself inside his ever tightening jeans. In turn, Dom rocked against him, pressing and rubbing and pushing himself against Orlando.
Their sweat-dampened skin was begging release from their clothes. Dom levered himself up, pulled at the black zipped jumper at the same time that Orlando began working on Dom’s clothes. Curling, frantic fingers, pushing at buttons, pulling at zips. Touch. Skin. Shudder.
Orlando rolled and Dom was underneath now, Orlando was back in control. Arms pinned beside body, fingers clenched. As always, he slowed down, let the heat and electricity between their hot skin rest for just a few moments. Slow as he eased them together. But only until neither of them could stand it anymore. Dom was flushed and his eyes were sparkling with arousal. But he didn’t say anything, didn’t ask, or taunt or beg. Kept silent.
Orlando sped up anyway, didn’t matter if Dom didn’t say another fucking word. Faster, harder, over and over and over until his actions weren’t even controlled by him anymore. Built up until he had to come tumbling down. Falling right into Dom as he began his own plummet from unsafe heights.
Collapse and silence.
Or maybe it wasn’t quiet. Hadn’t been at all. Perhaps Dom had been louder, needy and vocal. Talking and goading like he normally did during sex. Perhaps, and he wasn’t quite sure why, he just hadn’t heard it. Had made up the silence, like he was making it up now. But Orlando wanted it, real or imagined. Cocooned himself in the solidifying air. Tuned out the rasped breathing of Dom, sprawled naked and unguarded next to him.
The blue cotton had come askew from his wrist, and showed flashes of tan and ink. He tightened it with tired, slow fingers. Even though Dom was the only one there and there was no need to protect it. If that’s what he was doing. And wasn’t it?
He pulled it tighter and hid the tendrils of doubt that threatened to creep.
When he woke in the morning, still tangled in the half-made bed and Dom, it was to the earsplitting ring of the wake-up call.