2004 Stories

Contains stories depicting real-life public figures engaged in completely fictional, false and untrue activities. Nothing in it ever happened. Nothing in it ever will happen. These stories are a work of fantasy and satire which in no way professes to express the truth about the life, thoughts, feelings, desires, opinions, beliefs, activities or sexual orientation of any person mentioned herein.


for antigone_ks
by _simbelmyne_

Pairing: Orlando Bloom/Sean Bean
Rating: NC-17

Sean stared long and hard at the photo tucked into the corner of Viggo's make-up mirror. Soft skin, almost airbrushed. Long blonde hair. The invisible transition from flesh to prosthetic, curving up into the point of an ear. Fake blue eyes.

The bathroom door popped open and before he could stop himself or even hesitate, he reached up and plucked the polaroid from its place, leaving a noticeable bit of space behind. He tucked it carefully into the trousers of the Boromir costume just as Viggo stepped into the room.



"Do we still have time?"

"Nah, break's over. We should get back." Viggo watched as Sean slipped hastily out the door, and he followed at a leisurely pace. As an artist, he often thought of himself as a silent observer, noticing things perhaps others didn't take the time to recognize as important. The open place on the mirror was a missing piece of a puzzle, and he knew just what piece it was.


He always made the excuse that he was too old to hit the bars, but then Viggo was going this time. Viggo didn't go very often and that in itself put Sean on edge. He smelled setup. He felt manipulated before anything had even happened. When you have a secret that absolutely no one knows, you always feel on the brink of mass exposure. So he declined, but he was met with some additional resistance on his way to the car park.

"Comin' out tonight?"

Sean turned - was shanghaied with a bright smile, with dark eyes. He preferred the dark eyes; something about the intensity, the heat that radiated out in waves.

"Oh, uh... no, not likely. An old guy like me?"

"You're not old, Sean. C'mon, alliance of men and elves..."

"You've spoken to Viggo." Sean laughed warmly, but it sounded weird. Did he always laugh like that?

"He said it might work." Orlando shrugged his shoulders - lanky arms, impossibly long limbs.

"Well, tell him he was mistaken." Sean twisted forcibly away from those eyes - eyes he could call smoldering if that wasn't so trashy romance novel - and back toward his car.

"Wait-" A hand caught him around the wrist, freezing him in place. He fancied he could hear his heartbeat, and maybe Orlando could too. Hammering and echoing, giving him away. But no, that was just the blood rushing past his ears. "Please? For me?"

Sean glanced in a manner he hoped read as nonchalantly back at Orlando's pleading face and nodded weakly. Orlando surged with delight. Sean could feel it vibrate right off Orlando's body and up his arm, making his stomach clench uncomfortably.

"You won't regret it. I promise. We're meeting at Viggo's at nine. See ya then." He squeezed Sean's hand before dropping it and racing off in a burst of energy. Sean noticed how dark it was, how late it must be already, and why didn't he notice it was dark before? Was light firing off this kid, just glowing like a fucking Christmas tree? He scolded himself silently for waxing poetic, for damn near reciting Shakespeare. Right. Time to get home.


"You stupid bloody git!" Sean cursed, tossing a black t-shirt across the bedroom, watching it catch on the corner of a chair. He leaned down, hands braced on the dresser, and looked into the mirror. It was nearly nine and he was having the fight of his life trying to find something he thought might be right for the evening. Sexy, but understated. How could he be hot but look like he wasn't trying? Reaching blindly he pulled a white button-down off a hanger, leaving the hanger rocking on the bar in the closet. He buttoned it, then unbuttoned it, then did it up again. He grabbed it angrily and pulled, the top three buttons launching across the room and skittering for cover under the bed. It didn't look half bad that way. It would have to do, he was running late.

Sean tore down the streets of Wellington to Viggo's flat, heart wedged precariously in his esophagus, and pulled up just as Orlando and Viggo were stepping outside onto the stoop.

"Hey. Didn't think you were coming," Viggo teased. Orlando bounded down the walk to the street, moving in a frenzy of nervous energy around Sean, making his hair stand on end. Like static electricity. Like kinetic energy.

"Glad you made it," he managed before slipping into Viggo's rental.

"You look great," Viggo said as he passed Sean, a strange weight in his words, weight that settled in Sean's chest and made it hard to breathe. Like Viggo had given him instant pneumonia.


The hobbits were already at the bar and Elijah was already drunk; blue eyes thick like glass. Dom took his turn clinging to each new arrival, playfully feeling them up as he passed by to order a few pitchers from the giggling waitress - who had been lost in conversation with Billy, or more than likely, Billy's accent.

Orlando wasted no time in taking his first beer, followed quickly by his second, and then a shot Dom dropped off on their end of the table. He pounded it down and then slipped easily out of the booth to the dance floor, practically unnoticed. Except by Sean, who could seem to do nothing but notice him, notice everything. Orlando's eyes locked with him as he moved in behind a guy, fitting his pelvis against the curve of the guy's ass. Hypnotized by the sway of hips and by hands moving over tightly drawn muscles, curving, flexing back. Infused with the liquid courage of a few drinks, Sean took the floor himself, pairing up with a top-heavy blonde in a dress that could hardly be considered a skirt. Orlando wouldn't let his eyes falter and he dipped his fingertips into the guy's pants, just brushing below the waistline, and Sean responded by ghosting his hand over the blonde's pronounced nipple. Orlando spun, a little wobbly, and crashed into the men's room, letting the door slam shut.

Sean felt Viggo's breath on the shell of his ear. "Go after him."


"That's what he wants. That's what you want."


"Yes. Go."

Sean reeled unsteadily forward, unaware of his own legs, that they were moving, leading him to the loo. He collided with the door, sending it banging open, but Orlando wasn't there. Sean's shoes squeaked as he pivoted to leave when he heard a moan from the last stall in the row.

He gripped the top of the muted green metallic door, pulling it against his body to look inside. Orlando was on his knees, long fingers indenting slim hips, lips bruised and tight around someone's cock.

"Do you mind, pal?"


Orlando's eyes shot open and flickered to Sean, standing dumbfounded, still clutching the stall door. He drew away from the stranger's pelvis.


"Fuck," Sean muttered, laughing bitterly and letting the door shut abruptly on them. He whirled around too quickly, catching himself on the sink, and looked into the smudged, spattered mirror.

"Sean." Orlando was out of the stall, nervously dragging the back of his hand over his lips.

"So I guess Viggo was wrong."


"He said... God, I'm a fucking idiot!"

"What did he say?"

"That you wanted me to follow you in here."

"I did!"

Sean turned on Orlando, jaw clenched. "So I could see you sucking some... random guy's dick?"

"No! I - I didn't mean for that to happen."

"You're a slut. That's all it is."

"Thought that's what you liked about me." Orlando's voice was sharp with bitterness, echoing loudly in the small space. The guy in question stepped out of the toilet and excused himself rapidly.


"Isn't it?" Orlando took a step forward, and another, until he was right in Sean's face. Sean started when Orlando's palm crushed against his erection, causing Sean's eyelids to slip closed, making him rock up against the friction. "See? You fucking love it. Love that I'm a whore, want me because-"

"No!" Sean set the flat of his hands against Orlando's chest and shoved, forcing Orlando to slam into one of the hollow metal walls. "That's not what I want."

"You want me. You want me bent over, loose and begging-"

"Shut up! Just..." Sean's head was dizzy, his dick aching for more contact, any-fucking-thing, but he forced his way out into the club, where the air wasn't so thick, didn't smell like sex. He tore through the myriad of bodies spliced together and pulsing, out to the street where he hailed a cab frantically to flee the scene.


Orlando had painted a pretty vivid picture of the events for Viggo, and he half expected the stolen photograph to be shoved haphazardly back in place. But the space remained, reflected his face as he gazed at it thoughtfully. He anticipated and didn't flinch at the pounding on the door of his trailer.

"Come in."

Sean stepped in, closing the door like it was made of porcelain, all too delicately. Not very Sean-like at all. "You were wrong."

"About?" Viggo asked patiently, almost like a psychiatrist would. Almost in that maddeningly patronizing voice that's too kind to snap at. The one they use around mental patients and serial killers so they won't set them off.

"Last night. Orlando."

"No. I don't think so."

"I don't care what you bloody think! I went in there and-"

"I know what happened."

"He made a fool of me."

"Did he?"

"You ought to know. You know what happened."

"You called him a whore."

"He is a whore!"

"Sean." Viggo turned his chair to the track Sean was pacing into the floor. "He's just a kid."

"All the more reason to let it go."

"He cares about you."

"He doesn't understand what it means to-"

"Yes, I do."

Sean's head whipped quickly to the door, to Orlando standing there with his arms crossed, brow furrowed angrily.

"Don't... speak for me. You don't know what I feel."

Viggo calmly rose from his chair, passing by Orlando for the door and nodding - almost in character - to them as he slipped away.

"Well?" Orlando demanded.

"I know what I saw."

"What you saw doesn't mean anything. Look, I didn't expect you to follow me, all right? You never have before. If I knew you would, I would have waited for you."


"And? And if I had known you felt... anything... I never would have done that to... him."

"Who said I felt something? You nailed it last night; I just want you for the whore that you are."

"Then why didn't you just wait your turn?" Orlando spat, standing his ground, eyes burning against Sean's face.

"Well, I wasn't sure when you'd get 'round to me!"

"If that's all you wanted, all you want..."

"What? Say it, Orlando!"

"I don't know what I'm doing here, trying to convince you of anything, when you don't care, when you-"

"I watch you everyday. I see the way you are, with everyone. They way you tease, the way you just slide from person to person. You light people up. And I'm just another one of the bunch, aren't I? But you never come to me. You always keep a safe distance. Did you know? Is that why you stayed away?"

"I was afraid of what it would mean. I could... if you loved me-"

"Who said anything about love?" Sean's ears prickled with heat, itching with the sting, feeling muffled and full of cotton.

"Sean, we both know-"

"You don't know anything!"

"Everyone sees it. I see it. Tell me you don't love me." Sean blinked rapidly to clear the white spots from his eyes, trying to see Orlando's face. His tongue stuck thickly to the roof of his mouth and he tried to swallow, tried to wet his lips. "Tell me!"

"You're right," Sean muttered, and then growled, "that what you wanted to hear? You're right about me, about what I want from you, what I - what I feel for you." He shook his head, shrugging pointlessly at Orlando. "Happy?"

Orlando was too close too fast. "Yes."


"That is what I wanted. Not to be right, but... for you to..."


"To feel that way. About me. Nobody else means anything, they just fill the weird gap I feel like I have in my insides. But, I mean... it's a place for you. A place I made for you, and I can't seem to close it now. But if you want it - er, I mean... if you want me, then... no one else needs to fill it, ya know?"

Sean let the pads of his fingers touch the almost unnatural smoothness of Orlando's cheek. "Right."

"Right," Orlando agreed, leaning into that touch, inches of space disappearing from between them. Sean's beard prickled Orlando's upper lip and his eyes rapidly took in Sean's face before they closed. Sean's hands sunk into the soft velvet of the elf costume; soft but not even comparable to the feel of Orlando's skin. He tangled his fingers in the blonde wig when Orlando cupped his half-hard cock roughly.


"Wait?" Orlando squeaked, clearing his throat and trying again. "Wait? Why?"

Sean chuckled, the action shaking Orlando against him. "No time now. Wait for tonight... when I can - what did you say last night?"

Orlando couldn't suppress the hint of embarrassment that shaded his face. "Bend me over..."


Orlando's lips parted to finish the fantasy, but his words were lost, swallowed in the heat of Sean's mouth, melting lingering doubts and making undefined promises of things that might come.


Slashababy 2004 Stories