Slasha, Baby 2007

Presents

---

Christmas, 2003

Orlando groaned as he fumbled for the mobile. "Hello?"

"Morning, Sunshine!"

"Bean!" The figure lying next to him stirred and grumbled. "Sorry, love," he murmured, kissing the sleepy face before he rose and padded from the bedroom. "What are you doing ringing me at--" he squinted at the numbers on the little screen-- "ten in the bloody morning?"

"Wishing you a happy Christmas, you poncy Elf! Why else would I be disturbing you on your honeymoon?"

"It's not a honeymoon!" Orlando blushed. "Filthy Man," he added.

"You know it!" said Sean, with an audible grin.

"Don't I just!" He closed the door between the bedroom and the lounge and settled in the armchair furthest away. "How's Lorraine?"

"Oh, she's alright. A bit frantic earlier, though, what with the girls coming round. I think she's about to conk out by the telly."

"I thought that was you," teased Orlando.

"That were last night," said Sean with a rueful laugh.

"Tied a few on, did you?"

"More than a few," scoffed Sean.

"Not as much as you'd have liked, though," guessed Orlando. "You'd never risk Christmas with the girls."

"No, I guess, just--"

"It's alright, Sean, I'll leave it."

"Ta, mate."

"No problem." Orlando could hear Sean shifting on the other end. "Are you seeing anyone?"

"Not really. We aren't all blissfully happy with gorgeous blondes in--where are you, now?"

"Los Angeles," grinned Orlando.

"Ugh! Not a proper Christmas, at all!"

"You're just saying that because you wish you were here!"

"No, I'm saying that because you should be here."

"Aw! You miss me!"

"Nah! Just sayin' you should be muckin' about in the rain, like a proper Englishman, not poncing around in La-la land."

"Says the bit of rough! 'Proper Englishman', is it? I suppose you'll be going all RP, next."

"What, you mean like when you pretend you're a Cockney?"

Orlando snorted. "Bastard!"

There was a companionable silence for a moment.

"Orli ... do you, I mean ... well ... is it worth it?"

Orlando frowned. "What do you mean?"

"Being off the market, as it were. I mean, I can remember when you--well, you know...."

"Shagged just about anything that moved? Aren't you confusing me with Dom?"

"No, he shagged everything that moved! Besides, that weren't what I were trying to say. It's just--ach, I don't know what I'm saying, really." Sean sighed, and Orlando thought he could hear him rubbing his face.

"Sean ... are you all right, mate?"

"Yeah," said Sean, wearily. "I suppose I just, well...."

"I miss you, too, you daft git," said Orlando, smiling. "I sent you something, but you won't have got it yet."

"Is she blonde?" asked Sean, perking up.

"I do not traffic in human flesh! Besides, you don't need any help from me in that area," added Orlando with a very loud wink.

"True enough," agreed Sean, with just as loud a grin. "Just getting a bit lazy, an' that."

"Too lazy to send me a present?"

"Greedy bastard! Just for that, I should go fish it out of the letterbox!"

"You sent me something?" Orlando felt as though his smile would split his face.

"Yeah, just a little summat. Nothing fancy, I'm afraid."

"That's perfect! I didn't send you anything fancy, either."

"No internet shopping for us, eh?"

"No, thank God! Elijah emailed me a packet of condoms, you know."

Sean laughed so loudly that Orlando snatched the mobile away from his ear.

"My assistant told me that he'd said they were a gift to celebrate the movie we filmed a little while ago," said Orlando, dryly.

"Trojans!" bellowed Sean, with what little breath he had left.

"Size extra-large," confirmed Orlando, relaxing in a sprawl across the sofa.

"Too bad you couldn't fuckin' print them out!" wheezed Sean.

"That's what I said when I rang him," said Orlando. "So he went and sent me a case of them. They arrived last night by courier," he gloated.

"How many do you have left?" managed Sean.

"A fair few. Why? Need some? Not that they'd fit you--"

"You ent seen me grown," growled Sean in a low purr that made Orlando shiver to his marrow.

"Not bloody likely to, either," Orlando retorted, mustering every bit of acting training he'd ever gone near.

"You sound funny. Are you choking on summat?"

"No, but, er, I have to go."

"All this talk of condoms give you a bit of a hard time, do it?" leered Sean.

"Not quite," said Orlando, barely skirting the truth as his bladder and his cock sparred for attention. "Wanker," he added, squirming.

"All right, mate. I'll let you get back to your Kate."

"Yeah," said Orlando, noting that Sean's words didn't quite have the effect he'd have expected.

"Happy Christmas, Orli. See yer at--some sort of awards thing, I suppose. 'Rings' is supposed to snag the lot, yeah?"

"So I've heard. Happy Christmas, Sean. And--thanks for the call, mate. It's good to hear from you."

"Yeah. It's been two months, after all...."

"Goodbye, Sean," said Orlando, pointedly.

"Ta-ra, mate," laughed Sean, before Orlando rang off and ran to the loo.

---

April 26th, 2004

"Hi, Sean."

"Just thought I'd ring you up and see how many bits got blown off yer."

"What? Oh! Christ, what a bloody waste of time!"

"Well, I can bugger off, then--"

"No! God, no, Sean, I'm sor--" Orlando was interrupted by a snuffling sort of sound on the other end. "You manky bastard!"

Sean's laughter pealed through the mobile. "Glad you're all right, mate."

To Orlando, Sean's voice suddenly sounded easier than it had. "Yeah, so'm I," he admitted, really admitted, for the first time. He pulled the floor cushions closer to the fireplace and settled in, letting go of the breath he hadn't known he'd been holding.

"Are you?" asked Sean, softly. "All right, I mean?"

"Yeah, I'm fine. We're all fine. It was just a few fucking bottles of something or other going off in a shed. It was really hot, today."

"It's always fucking hot! It's the bloody desert, ennit?" But Sean's voice was velvet-soft, and Orlando sank into it, relishing the prickly contrast between word and worry.

"Yeah," said Orlando, drifting, holding the mobile close to his ear, listening to Sean breathe, thinking about his own situation, and the ineffability of it.

"You sound knackered, mate," said Sean.

"Yeah, Ridley kept us late, once we were allowed back on set."

"I should let you get your beauty sleep, then," said Sean, with a twist of tease.

"Not yet," said Orlando, a fraction too quickly. "You haven't told me who you're shagging, yet," he added, also too quickly.

"Nobody you know," laughed Sean. "I thought you didn't need to live vicariously anymore."

"Wha? Oh, Kate? She's off filming something with Lij."

"You don't even know what project she's filming?"

"Sin ... Sinful ... something...."

"You sound like you're falling asleep."

"I wish I was. I'm too wound up to sleep."

"Want me to sing you a lullaby?"

The tease was couched in a voice that promised warmth and sweetness and ease - love, that he was missing so much that Orlando ached for an interminable second. There is suffering. There is a cause of suffering - craving.... "Yes, please."

"Erm ... alright, let me just think, a bit...."

"It's alright, Sean," said Orlando, "Just--"

"No, there's one I sing to Evie ... erm...."

Orlando stifled the urge to laugh as Sean cleared his throat and began to sing, faltering at first and then with more certainty. Orlando could hear him settling into the role, and then losing himself. He sank back into the cushions as the soothing lilt of the song washed over him, imagining himself cradled in smooth, wiry arms, sexy blonde hair brushing his temples, a stubbly nuzzle against his cheek--oh. Smooth arms, silky skin, long, fragrant hair, he reminded himself. Breasts cuddling up against my back.... He listened to the song....

"'Where are you going to, my pretty maid? Where are you going to, my pretty maid?' 'I'm going a-milking, Sir,' she said, 'Sir,' she said, 'Sir,' she said, 'I'm going a-milking, Sir,' she said.

'Shall I go with you, my pretty maid? Shall I go with you, my pretty maid?' 'Yes, if you please, kind Sir,' she said, 'Sir,' she said, 'Sir,' she said, 'Yes, if you please, kind Sir,' she said.

'What is your fortune, my pretty maid? What is your fortune, my pretty maid?' 'My face is my fortune, Sir,' she said, 'Sir,' she said, 'Sir,' she said, 'My face is my fortune, Sir,' she said.

'Then I can't marry you, my pretty maid, Then I can't marry you, my pretty maid.' 'Nobody asked you, Sir,' she said, 'Sir,' she said, 'Sir,' she said, 'Nobody asked you, Sir,' she said."

Just as he was about to fall into a doze, not even caring anymore that the smooth, wiry arms had turned to hairy, muscled ones, the words of the last verse penetrated and he barked out a laugh.

"It weren't that bad," said Sean, plaintively.

"No, no, of course not," Orlando hastened to assure. "It's just.... the way it ends--" He laughed again.

"Yeah, well, I started singing it to Evie after I met you," quipped Sean.

"Oh, ha-bloody-ha!" laughed Orlando. "You should be looking at Dom, mate! He's the one with designs on little girls."

"Only on Ally Astin," said Sean, "though you might have a point, at that."

Orlando yawned and chuckled.

"Think you can sleep now?"

"Yeah, I do, actually. Thanks, Sean."

"'Twere nowt, mate."

"Oh, Sean! I almost forgot--well, I did forget, actually--happy birthday! At least, I hope it was."

"Yeah, it were alright. Had a bit of a booze-up, a shag--I think--all the usual stuff."

"If you don't remember the shag, that must've been more than a bit of a booze-up," laughed Orlando.

"Yeah, most like," said Sean, with an absent chuckle.

"I'll send you something. What would you most like from Morocco?"

"A visit."

"To or from?"

"Either one, really."

"Sean--"

"That way, you could remind me who I shagged."

"I suppose you think I wouldn't be busy with a bit of shagging of my own?"

"Well, you're taken, aren't you?"

"So I'd be, like, the designated virgin?"

Sean laughed very hard, and the conversation went downhill from there, giving Orlando the best night's sleep he'd had in weeks.

---

April 17th, 2005

The knock on the door was promptly followed by, "Room service...."

Sean heaved himself out of bed and over to the door. "Thanks, Miguel, you can just put it over--Nnnggghfff!"

"You said you wanted a visit," teased a laddish voice against his ear.

Sean barely had time to notice Miguel retreating with a huge grin, waving as he closed the door, before he was completely subsumed in one of Orli's irresistible embraces. His own arms wrapped around the familiar back, and he squeezed hard. "Yeah, but that were a year ago, and I thought it would be in Morocco," he quipped.

"You said, 'Either way, really,' if I recall," said Orli in a rather shitty Sheffield accent as he pulled back to grin at Sean.

"Stick to Mockney, mate," Sean retorted, looking him up and down. "You're a bit on the thin side. What is it you're filming now? Oliver Twist?"

Orli cuffed him on the shoulder. "Do you know what it took for me to get a day away from shooting to come see you?" he chided.

"From Bruckheimer? The cost of a week's shooting, most like. And one of your bollocks."

"Two."

"He took both your knackers?" Sean gave him a horrified look.

"No," said Orli with exaggerated patience, "Two weeks' shooting cost."

"You can't be serious," said Sean, feeling himself go white.

"I can, and I am," said Orli, with a hint of a turn at the corners of his mouth. "But only if he can't figure out how to work around my being gone," he admitted, just when Sean thought he might pass out.

Sean shook his head, too confused to suss out whether he was more angry or flattered that Orli would go to such lengths to see him. "Keep that up, an' tha'll find thee sen in a loony bin," he said, at last.

Orli curled his arm around Sean and steered them further into the room. "You're just glad to see me, you Northern softy," he grinned. "Come on, admit it!"

"So you said you got a day off," said Sean, pointedly ignoring Orli's demand, "does that mean you're just here for--to purloin my lunch?" he amended as Orli started snatching chips from Sean's plate.

"God, it's been a long time since I've had fish & chips!"

"That's because you're a fucking vegan, isn't it? Silly tosser!"

"I gave it up for Lent," winked Orli, stealing a piece of fried fish. "Mmm! Trust you to stay at a hotel that makes good fish & chips!"

"They don't. This comes from a chippy round the corner. Miguel gets it for me. He likes me, you know. Like that," Sean winked.

Orli nearly choked on the fish. "You haven't--have you?"

"What? Shagged the hotel staff? Not on your life, mate! I like the way they take care of me here. Wouldn't want to risk finding a horse head in me bed if something went wrong, would I?"

"I suppose not," chuckled Orli, grinning over a chip. "Want one?" He gestured at the plate.

"Thanks," said Sean, dryly, "don't mind if I do." He sat down at the table. "Have a seat, yeah? That way I don't have to crane me neck to watch you steal my fucking food."

Orli gave Sean one of the sheepish, under-the-eyelids smiles that had always stirred him in ways that no good Yorkshireman should be stirred by anyone without a great set of tits. "Sorry. I'm a bit hungry."

"You passed 'a bit' when you ate half my chips in half a minute. Aren't they feeding you in--where is it you're filming?"

"It's called 'Pirates of the Caribbean', right?" Orli gave a huge great wink.

Sean confiscated the fish. "So you're on a Caribbean island, and you can bloody well get as much fish as you like, so you don't need mine, right?"

"Dominica. It's not the same," said Orli, stuffing another chip into his mouth. "Specially not with the natives. I mean, they've been brilliant, and all, and the food's incredible, but plantain just doesn't taste like chips!"

Sean pushed the fish towards him with a sigh. "Here you go, mate. Can't have proper chips without a nice bit of haddock, can you?"

Orli's smile blazed at Sean. "You're a good friend," he said, leaning over to bestow a noisy kiss on his cheek before polishing off a large piece of fish that Sean had been admiring.

"You'll never know how good," said Sean, with a long-suffering sigh.

Orli chuckled around a face-full of fish. "I'll make it up to you," he said, pushing the plate towards Sean. "We're watching the game this afternoon, yeah?"

"No, I thought we'd go to the ballet," said Sean, disgustedly.

"Well, given that Sheffield isn't involved...."

Sean growled for and at his team, though it was convenient to direct it at Orli.

There was a knock on the door, and Orli jumped up to get it before Sean could stop him. "That's brilliant, Miguel. Thanks," Sean heard him say, after some rustling and shuffling. He peered around the corner to find Orlando wheeling in a cart topped with more fish and chips, two chip butties and three pints of the best beer the hotel had to offer.

"Happy birthday, Sean," grinned Orli.

"Aw, ta, mate," mumbled Sean, as something inside him began to thaw, a bit. "But what are you going to drink?"

"One of those," said Orli, nodding pointedly at the pints. "And there's more coming when the game starts."

"Oh. Well, I'd thought we'd go down the pub for the game...."

A wistful look passed briefly across Orli's face. "Well, you are the birthday boy, so you should have your way. But there is one thing...."

Sean gave Orli a suspicious look. "Which would be...?"

"I can't go with you. I'm ... sort of ... not really here."

"I thought Bruckheimer knew you were coming here."

"He did--does. So do the others. But nobody else does, and I can't be seen. I had to promise that."

"So much for reminding me who I shagged," said Sean, quietly.

"I'm sorry, Sean. I've a room booked, of course, so you won't have to worry about me interfering with any--plans."

"If nobody's supposed to know you're here, then--"

"It's in the chauffeur's name."

"Well, look," said Sean, pushing aside the confusing prickle threading its way through him, "there's a perfectly good telly here. It's not as though I were planning to go to Cardiff, is it?"

"Eat your chip butty," said Orli, roughly. He picked one up and bit into it.

Sean noticed new lines etching their way around Orli's eyes and drowned his pang in the greasy treat.

Two and a half hours, six pints and three renditions of Sheffield United's 'The Greasy Chip Butty' anthem later, Sean peered through his buzz at Orli's drunken sprawl. "You alright, there?"

"Yeah. Fucking plonker Souness never did have a clue."

"Blame fucking Boumsong, mate," said Sean. "Couldn't be arsed to fucking pass the ball off to any of his mates when it would've done any good. And then that ref calling offside when there were, like, three people on his shoulder. Was he fucking blind? Nasty git!"

"Manc git, more like," said Orli. "Ferguson's probably been shagging him through the floor all week."

Sean laughed and clinked his glass to Orli's. "Cheers, mate. Not sure I really needed that image, mind, but still...."

Orli grinned. "Not much for thinking about guys shagging each other, right?"

"I'm from Sheffield," snorted Sean.

"You're also an actor," Orli shot back. "Besides, that's not really an answer, is it?" Orli's tone was light, but Sean saw something flit across his face.

"Well, I don't really make much of a habit of imagining that, no," said Sean, "especially when it comes to Man U." He shuddered.

Orli laughed. "Yeah, I can understand that." He took another pull on his pint. "I mean, I know you don't think there's anything wrong with guys liking each other like that, but--you don't, do you?"

The abrupt shift caught Sean unawares, and he blinked. "Don't what?"

"Think there's anything wrong with guys--you know--shagging each other. Do you?"

Sean sat up a little straighter and tried to clear his head. "No, it's just that football is sacred, and sex should not be contemplated during a game."

Orli snorted.

Sean frowned and peered at him. "Why are you asking me this now?"

"Just curious," said Orli. "And drunk."

"Drunk or sober, the only times I've seen you contemplating gay sex were when you've broken it off with someone. I thought you and Kate were on again?"

Orli looked for all the world as though he desperately wanted to sigh, but something was plugging him up. "We've given each other a year off," he said at last, so softly that Sean wouldn't have heard him if they'd been sitting on different chairs.

Sean winced at the memories of previous endings and at the pain on his friend's face. "So that's why you come all this way," he said, softly.

"No, I just wanted to wish you a happy birthday," said Orli, with a small smile.

Sean rolled his eyes. "You've got your mobile for that," he chivvied. And then he saw the play of muscles trying to manage Orli's expression. "Then again, it never hurts to see a friendly face, yeah?"

Orli nodded, tight-lipped.

"Ach, come here, you daft bugger," said Sean, offering an open arm.

Orli leant against him, breathing as though he were in a yoga class.

"It's alright to cry, under the circumstances," said Sean, giving him a gentle shake. "If anyone asks, it's because you're drunk."

Orli's breathing huffed into laughter as he turned his face against Sean's shoulder, and then Sean could feel the tight compression of suppressed sobs against his ribs. He put his pint down, and then relieved Orli of his, and tugged him into a clumsy embrace.

"It'd be fucking so much easier if friendship and sex just, like, went together," said Orli, pulling back to wipe his eyes after a few moments. "Shit, Sean, I'm sorry."

"No worries," said Sean, still holding him loosely. "And yeah, it would be easier if you could fuck your friends," he added with a twinkle.

Orli laughed through a tear or two. "It might have been more convenient if we'd been attracted to each other, I suppose," he said, "but then look what happened with Dom and Billy."

"Yeah, that were hard to watch," said Sean, avoiding the first idea.

"I wanted to find that with Kate," said Orli. "That kind of love, I mean. Only with the sex, as well. She said she wanted that, too. Only work kept getting in the way." Orli swiped viciously at a fresh wash of tears. "I miss everyone so fucking much! I can't see my friends or family without booking it a year in advance, can't spend a quiet evening with someone I love.... Fucking hell, I can't even go to the sodding loo without a bodyguard!" He turned frantic eyes on Sean, searching. "I'd meant to see Kate, but I booked a ticket to London, instead. Why the fuck would I do that?"

"Ta very much, I'm sure," grinned Sean.

Orli shook his head and groaned as it dropped into his hands.

Sean pulled him close, softly this time. "Sometimes we need to see the people who make us feel good, rather than the ones we're supposed to see," he said, "even if it's just the ones we have the most in common with deep down, like."

Orli laughed. "What could a poncy Sassenach have in common with a Northern bit of rough?"

"Oh, I don't know.... Devastating good looks, lots of experience with women, failure at relationships, a singular focus on your career ... that sort of thing."

"Git," said Orli, absently. "Thanks," he added, squeezing Sean's arm and pulling away. He got to his feet and stretched. "Look, I'd better get to my room, now. Can't let you go without your birthday shag, after all." He smiled, but it didn't quite show in his eyes.

"Yeah, alright," said Sean, though his heart felt suddenly like lead. "How long are you here? Really, I mean?"

"Till tomorrow night," said Orli, rubbing his neck. "Though I think I'll probably sleep all day till the chauffeur collects me."

"I can imagine, with the schedule you've been on," said Sean.

"Yeah, it's been a little rough. Goodnight, Sean."

And just then, Sean knew that the last thing in the world he wanted was for Orli to leave. Before he quite knew how he'd got there, he was on his feet and wrapped around him.

"Sean?"

"Just--hang on a moment...." Sean squeezed tightly as he tried to collect himself.

Orli's arms went around Sean, then. "It's alright," he murmured in a steadying voice, though his heart was pounding through his back and into Sean's arms.

"I don't want to be alone tonight," said Sean, at last, in a voice pitched solely for Orli's right ear.

"Alright," offered Orli, stroking Sean's back. "We can have a takeaway and watch some more telly and I'll sleep on the sof--"

Sean cut him off by covering Orli's mouth with his own.

Orli pushed him away and grasped him by the shoulders. "Sean?" he repeated.

Sean pushed a hand through his hair and down the back of his neck, hoping that Orli wouldn't let go of him. "Look, I don't know ... I never thought this would happen, but--oh, sodding hell!" He pulled out of Orli's light grasp and paced. "Look, I've been having ... thoughts about you." He looked up, silently daring Orli to ask what sort of thoughts those might be, but found locked eyes. "Fuck...."

"I didn't think you had those sorts of thoughts about men."

"Neither did I," said Sean, letting out a huff of breath. "Well, except for that one time when I was filming with Dex on Caravaggio, and that prison scene where we were all nude, and that time I caught Karl and Viggo snogging in the Cuntebago.... What!?"

Orli was trying with obvious desperation to stifle a laugh. "And that time we nearly tripped over Elijah wanking in the woods, and the time when Bana mooned Saffron," he managed.

"How did you--" Sean cut himself off and felt himself blush to his marrow.

"Well," said Orli, with a quick downward flick of his eyes, "you are a bloke, you know."

"It's not polite to notice that sort of thing," grumbled Sean.

"What? That you're a bloke?"

"No! It's--you're not supposed to notice when another bloke reacts ... like that. It's in the bloke code."

Orli laughed with an abandon Sean had not seen since he'd left the Rings set years before.

"You know that, you tosser!" Sean tried hard not to smile.

Orli's face changed, then. "Sean," he said, tentatively, "what do you want tonight?"

Sean pulled up short and dropped his eyes. "I want to be with someone I love," he murmured.

"And since you don't have a partner...."

"I'm lonely as fuck," admitted Sean.

"And since I just happened to drop by on your birthday...."

Sean looked up, sharply. "It ent like that! Look, I'm fucking confused, alright? I keep trying to find a woman to be with, and then all I can think of is how empty I feel, or worse--oh, bollocks!"

"You're afraid you might be queer."

"Of course I'm afraid of that! I'm forty-six today, been married three times, and I'm from fucking Sheffield! There ent nowt I can do about that, anymore'n there's aught can be done if I fancy a bloke here an' there. Or if I can't stop thinking of one of me best mates in ways I don't have any right--" And then he couldn't go on, because there was a burning hot mouth over his and Orli's hands were holding him steady once more, and all the breath was sucked right out of him.

Orli pulled back then, and searched, asking a silent question.

Sean took a deep breath and plunged forward, capturing, seeking, entering, opening. After a long moment, he broke the kiss very slowly. "You're good," he said against Orli's lips.

"So are you," said Orli, just as steadily.

And then, Sean found himself pinned in a steel embrace, engulfed in a molten kiss, thrust up against an erection that made him blanch and buck at the same time. "Bed," he managed into Orli's mouth, as he snaked his hands under the wrinkled shirt to touch scars that were years old.

"Floor," countered Orli, pulling off Sean's jumper.

Which was precisely where Sean found himself seconds later, bare-chested and sweaty as he fumbled with Orli's belt.

By contrast, Orli had removed Sean's belt and had his hand inside his trousers by the time he managed to work the buckle loose.

Sean gasped as Orli's hand encircled his hot flesh. He thought to say, "I take it you've done this before," but all that came out was a moan that he could neither recognize nor decipher.

Orli rubbed his still-clothed erection against Sean's thigh in response, and took his hand, guiding it insistently to press against needful flesh. He groaned and had his belt off and trousers opened before Sean had run his hand up the clothed length. With a wordless growl, Orli raised himself up enough for both of them to pull off trousers and socks in record-breaking time.

Sean felt his eyes widen at the sight of Orli's length and girth, and the combination of fear and arousal made him light-headed. Strong hands, soft skin, legs any woman would envy, no arse at all, beautiful face, the largest cock Sean had ever met, edible soft-hard chest, long waist, thick, soft hair.... Sean lost himself in devouring Orli, touching-tasting-pinching-biting-drinking him in, flipping him carefully onto his back to work his way down from salty nipples over flawless skin down shapely thighs over bony--no, muscled and perfect--knees to big, hairy, slightly smelly feet--didn't matter, he had a foot fetish that he indulged for a few moments, making Orli jump and moan--and back up the other side. He licked his way up the inner thigh and smelt the strong musk of arousal. For just a moment, a tide of fear took him, and he turned to one side, hugging Orli's arousal against his cheek, breathing in his scent as he reminded himself over and over, this is my friend; this is Orli, who I love; it'll be alright.... What the bloody fuck am I doing?

"Sean," said Orli, miles above his head, "it's alright. You don't have to do this. Not that you aren't fucking brilliant...."

And Orli's lust-thickened voice did the trick. In for a penny, in for a pound! Sean came back with renewed vigour, as did his erection, and he pressed his lips to the sweaty, vulnerable crease between thigh and groin and tasted sweet-salt skin before moving to lap at the tight bollocks. Not nearly as pungent as a girl, he thought, with more than a little surprise.

"God, Sean! I thought you hadn't done this before...."

"I haven't," said Sean around the base of Orli's cock. "'M just living out me fantasy."

"I'm--fuck!--taking notes," gasped Orli.

"Good. Then take note of this," growled Sean, and he glued the flat of his tongue to the heavy balls and gave a long, firm lick up to the tip of Orli's cock.

Orli cried out and Sean saw his hands clenching in the carpet.

"It's alright, you can move. I like it a bit rough," said Sean.

Orli moaned and thrust up against Sean's face, catching him off guard. "Sorry," gasped Orli.

For answer, Sean grasped the twitching shaft and tasted the silvery drops at its tip. Salty, bitter, musky--not unlike his own, yet different enough to be interesting.

"Please!" begged Orli.

Sean smiled. This, he was pretty sure he knew how to do, given how many times he'd had it done to him. Then again, he hadn't ever put anything quite that big in his mouth ... and then Orli writhed and twitched and moaned, and Sean couldn't resist. He took the tip in his mouth and committed himself to relishing it as he had been relished in fantasy and reality. He swirled his tongue around it, accustoming himself to the taste (acquired) and feel (exciting) of it, relaxing his jaw to take in as much length as possible. What he couldn't accomplish by accommodating length, he managed by suction and lingual attention and the application of his voice at just the right spot--he thanked his voice teachers at RADA, who doubtless had never thought of their skills being passed on in this manner--as Orli surged beneath him and moaned and tangled his fingers in his hair.

"Sean!" It was a warning that Sean understood, and just as he was trying to decide between backing off to avoid choking or sinking down to avoid tasting, Orli came, flooding his mouth. While Orli was crying out in completion, Sean did his best to swallow what he could and keep from grazing tender flesh. It was messy, but nothing worse than anything he'd done with girls, except for the taste. Definitely acquired, he thought, but well worth the acquiring, he added, as he looked up at Orli's rapt face.

He let Orli go when he could no longer tolerate the ache in his jaw, which was sooner than he would have liked, and kissed his way carefully up the heaving chest. "You alright?" he asked, stroking Orli's arm and ignoring his own burning need for the moment.

Orli turned bright, dazed eyes toward him. "Far more than alright," he managed, pulling Sean tightly into his arms. "Thank you," he murmured into Sean's ear, before kissing gently along the aching jaw line, mouthing just the spots that would make the protesting muscles relax properly.

"You're good at that," said Sean.

"I like to take care of my lovers," said Orli. "I don't like hurting people." He kissed the underside of Sean's chin, just beneath the jawbone. "It's a disadvantage of being big."

"No worries, luv. I had fun!" Sean smiled at him, and leaned in for a kiss.

"Mmm ... me on you. Not a bad combination, but it's time for me to taste you, now," and Orli began to work his way down....

"You don't have to do that," lied Sean.

"Of course I do," said Orli, nipping one of Sean's nipples before kissing it.

"Christ!"

"Wouldn't be polite to leave you hanging, would it?" Orli trailed a hot tongue up to suck at the bas of Sean's neck.

"Oh, well, yeah, that would be rude," said Sean, arching hopefully as Orli kissed a trail to his other nipple. "I just meant you didn't have to do the same thing to me...." He trailed off as Orli dove abruptly down to engulf a ball in his mouth. "Ohhh ffffuck me...," prayed Sean.

"Maybe a bit later," murmured Orli against the base of Sean's sac. And then he repeated Sean's firm lick from sac to tip. "How do you like my note-taking?" he purred, voice like velvet against Sean's belly.

"Fucking incredible," Sean attempted, just before Orli engulfed him from tip to root. Sean thought that he might have screamed then, though he preferred to think of it as a sort of loud, high-pitched moan, and a small part of him that still cared about such things hoped that anyone else who heard it might think that it came from his partner. He tried hard not to thrust too fiercely into Orli's mouth, but soon found strong, knowing fingers holding his hips and guiding him. He relaxed with a groan and let himself go, trusting Orli's control, fucking his mouth with abandon until he twisted a hand in thick curls as warning.

Orli plunged himself down on Sean's cock without warning, and Sean came before he could draw breath, roaring on the second spasm as everything went white.

Slowly, slowly, Sean came back to himself to find Orli peppering his face with kisses. He stroked a cheek damp with sweat. "Thank you," he whispered.

"Happy birthday," said Orli, with a damp smile. "Are you alright?"

Sean reached around Orli's neck and kissed him, sleepily. "Yeah," he said, from deep inside. "Only let's do round two in bed, yeah?"

Orli hugged him tightly. "I think we can manage that," he said, when he could.

Much later, as Orli slept sprawled across his chest, Sean revelled in the pleasant aches of jaw and arse and muscles. He wasn't quite sure how he'd feel about things in the morning, but something had opened for him. He kissed Orli's brow, and wondered how much he'd have to pay Jerry Bruckheimer to let the star of his movie trilogy spend a week with him.

Concept created by Megolas in 2002
Fabulous artwork ©2002 by Hope
Moderated since 2004 by MSilverstar, with yueni and/or feelforfaith
Site revised ©2006 by yueni and 2007 by MSilverstar

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