Slasha, Baby 2007

Float

Recipient: hermit9
Author: abundantlyqueer
Pairing: Sean Bean/Orlando
Summary: "It is late 1999 in Queenstown, New Zealand, two days after record rainfall caused the worst flooding in the history of the district. We have suffered some setbacks; the weather has stuffed the schedule. Two of the actors, Sean Bean and Orlando Bloom, have been caught between two landslides and are now trapped in a tiny town in the middle of the South Island. They have been taken in by a kindly woman who has offered them food and a bed. They were last reported to be cooking spaghetti and cracking into a bottle of red wine."


---

"No corkscrew," Orlando says bleakly, after opening and closing both kitchen drawers twice.

Bean doesn't bat an eye, just swipes his forefinger along his upper lip, and takes the bottle out of Orlando's hand.

"Give us the fork," he says, peeling the soft plum-purple lead from around the cork.

"The fork?"

"Ayup."

Orlando hands over the fork.

Sean delicately levers the wax seal off the cork, and tosses it across the kitchen and into the plastic bag hanging on the door knob. Then he pushes one tine of the fork into the cork at a carefully judged angle, and levers slowly, smoothly ... the cork begins to lift free.

"Yeh just hafta go ... gentle," Sean murmurs, "so yeh don't break it ... "

Orlando stares at the cork, dyed red-purple from the wine, and the broad tips of Sean's fingers on the tines of the fork.

" ... soft as ... that," Sean says in satisfaction as the cork comes out.

The scent of blackberries and dark wood fills the room.

"Pass them glasses," Sean says.

Orlando sets down the heavy tumbler and the jelly jar.

"That's got a good nose," Sean says, pouring wine.

It's ruby-black. Sean picks up the tumbler and takes a sip. Orlando lifts his eyebrows anxiously.

"Jesus, that's a good bottle," Sean says.

Orlando relaxes, smiling.

"How much did that cost?" Sean asks.

Orlando shrugs, as if the hundred pounds that caused him such anguish at the winery isn't worth mentioning.

"I bought it for Ian," he says, instead.

"His loss, my gain," Sean grins. "Yeh got anything else put aside for him, that I can have instead?"

Orlando blushes, squirms, dives for his jelly jar of wine. He takes more of a mouthful than he means, and the heat and weight of the wine knocks his breath out of his lungs and leaves him coughing.

"Easy," Sean laughs, patting Orlando between the shoulder blades.

Orlando concentrates on swallowing down his breath and his heartbeat and the ache between his legs.

"Grub's up," Sean says, turning his back on Orlando.

Orlando glares at the width of Sean's shoulders, at the way his thin sweater drapes over the thick triangle of muscle at each side of his neck. Sean shifts slightly, shifts again, his right shoulder rounding and angling as he moves his hand. The spoon scrapes in the pot. Orlando stares at the sun-blond tips of Sean's hair where it curls against the neck of his sweater.

"Yeh ready?" Sean asks without turning.

Orlando opens his mouth.

"I - uh - "

"Don't be afraid of it," Sean says, turning around and offering Orlando a bowl. "I can cook - this, at any rate."

The pasta is coated with a velvety cream, cheese half-melting into it, coarse pepper and nutmeg speckling it. Orlando's momentarily distracted by surprise and hunger.

"Wow. That smells amazing."

"Never fail spaghetti," Sean smirks, picking up his own bowl and glass and walking through to the other room.

"Never fail?" Orlando asks, following.

"Aye, it - never mind," Sean says, sitting down among the bedclothes on the couch.

Orlando sits down cross-legged on the sleeping bag spread on the other side of the coffee table.

"Never mind what?" he asks, absently forking up a mouthful of pasta.

The taste explodes in his mouth, rich and robust. His stomach twists in gratitude. He closes his eyes, savoring the last creamy cling of the food on his tongue before he swallows.

"Uhh...mm," he sighs. "That is ... "

He opens his eyes. Sean is scowling at him, but his expression abruptly blanks. Orlando blushes again.

"It's really good," he says hastily. "It's - I didn't think you'd be able to cook, yeah? I mean, it seems a bit - not - "

"Not what?" Sean says coldly.

" ... manly," Orlando says in a small voice. "Macho."

Sean makes a dismissive little sound through his nose.

"Eat yer dinner," he says.

Orlando hunches down a bit and does as he's told. The pasta is amazing, the wine -- now that he's braced for it -- is amazing too. Orlando's middle is filling with warmth, rounder and less insistent than the warmth lower down. Though, the alcohol is adding a slightly dangerous edge to that, too.

Sean scrapes out his own bowl and refills his tumbler with wine. He leans back on the couch, knees splayed.

"Any fella with any wit learns how to cook something," he says loftily. "Birds love it."

He lifts his tumbler to Orlando. Orlando holds his gaze.

"Never fails," Orlando says, with complete comprehension.

"Never once," Sean says.

Orlando looks down at his empty dish, then back up at Sean.

"Shame to break its luck," Orlando says evenly.

"What?"

"If it doesn't get you laid this time, it might never work again."

Sean squinches his eyes a little.

"I'm not gay," he says.

Orlando shrugs expansively.

"I don't mind."

Sean crunches the corner of his mouth a bit. Orlando holds his gaze, willing his own eyes as dark and hypnotic and fuck me fuck me fuck me as he possibly can. Sean's mouth skews back to center, into a smile, into a smirk.

"A'right then," he laughs.

Orlando goes onto his hands and knees, crawls around the coffee table and onto the couch. Sean's still laughing, tipping back among the pillows as Orlando crawls right into his lap.

"Yeh daft - "

Orlando straddles him, long slender thighs on either side of Sean's hips. Sean's grin turns abruptly feral.

"Eager," he says darkly.

"Yeah," Orlando says.

He's suddenly unsure, feeling the heft of Sean's bones and muscles under him. Sean's smell -- sharp and deep and smoky -- cuts through Orlando, leaving him shaking. He leans in, down a little, tilting his chin and parting his lips.

"Is - "

"Aye," Sean says.

He catches Orlando's waist, one big hand wrapping around Orlando's hip. Orlando yields, letting his chest curve downwards, letting his mouth touch Sean's. Sean kisses him, not roughly but with absolute confidence, doing it by the numbers, scooping his tongue deeply into Orlando's mouth and dragging his teeth deliberately across Orlando's lips. Orlando's body responds with utter trust in Sean's abilities, gathering itself up a quivering heap. Sean cups one side of Orlando's face in his hand, his thumb stroking back along Orlando's cheekbone.

"God, you're lovely," Sean murmurs.

Orlando grins breathlessly down at him.

"Give us a look at yeh, then," Sean says, palming the front of Orlando's tee shirt up off his stomach.

"Jesus," Orlando protests, blushing as much from excitement as embarrassment. "You've seen me without a shirt before."

"Aye, but not in a sex way," Sean says.

Orlando tilts back, letting Sean push his tee shirt higher, until he's bare from hips to nipples. Sean runs his knuckles up Orlando's ribs and across his nipple.

"Uh ... nn," Orlando says, his hips twisting slightly.

"Yeh like that?" Sean says softly, doing it some more.

Orlando tries to answer, but the sound gets caught against the thing beating in his chest. He works his weight in Sean's lap, and frowns.

"You're not - hard," Orlando winces.

"I told yeh, I'm not gay," Sean says reasonably, "but I'm willin'. Give it a bit o'love, it'll stand to, no worries."

Orlando blushes rose-red, and slithers out of Sean's lap onto the floor, shoving the coffee table back to give himself space to kneel between Sean's splayed thighs. Sean's smile turns to a leer.

"Oh, so that's - "

Orlando reaches for Sean's belt buckle, and something in his expression -- the feral turn of his lip, maybe -- silences Sean. Orlando works buckle and button and zipper with quick accuracy, and grips both sides of Sean's jeans and

" - lift - "

Sean tips his hips up and Orlando yanks Sean's jeans down onto his thighs. Sean's wearing faded blue shorts that don't quite meet at the front. Orlando growls appreciatively, and peels Sean bare with great deliberation. Sean's cock is hanging between his legs but pulsing tautly.

Orlando sucks his cheeks in, rolls his tongue, pulling a flood of saliva into his mouth. He thrusts both hands between Sean's thighs, splaying his fingers over the curves of muscle. Sean grunts, surprised, uncertain, excited.

Orlando pounces, sucking Sean's cock up into his mouth, bathing it in spit and slipping it as far down his throat as he can. Sean groans, his haunches tensing.

"Oh yeh -- fuck that's - " Sean says hoarsely.

Orlando doesn't waste time on tongue-fluttering or throat-flexing or any other Martha Stewart touches; he concentrates on getting Sean's cock as deep as possible and applying whatever pressure he can, wherever he can. Sean's fists grip the edge of the couch, his knuckles pressing the skin white. Orlando sweeps his hands extravagantly over Sean's hips and stomach, feeling the muscles jittering under the skin. Sean's exhaling heavily, deliberately, spacing his breathes apart. His cock is thick and rock hard in Orlando's mouth.

Orlando draws back, his lips reddened and spit-shiny. Sean's cock stands straight up, bobbing softly with Sean's heartbeat.

"See?" Sean says, a little breathlessly. "Never fails ... just like the spaghetti."

Orlando stands up, and strips his tee shirt off over his head. Sean toes off his own socks, and shimmies his jeans the rest of the way off.

"Shit, I don't suppose she keeps - y'know - anything - lubricant," Orlando says, his hands on the buttons of his fly.

"The rest o' that goat butter," Sean says, stripping off his own sweater and the tee shirt under it.

"Yeah," Orlando beams, "good thinking - hey, how do you know?"

"I'm straight, not stupid," Sean says. "Here - if you can't cook, what're yeh buyin' goat butter for, anyway?"

"It was for Dom -- it's made from goats, he loves goats," Orlando says, scrambling into the kitchen and grabbing the remaining chuck of butter on its foil wrapper and -- as an afterthought -- a dishcloth.

He skitters to a halt on the threshold, presented with Sean sitting naked on the couch, tumbler of wine in one hand. Orlando smiles, a slow, bone-deep smile.

"So, how do I go about this, then?" Sean asks, setting his glass down again.

Orlando hands him the butter, and finishes undoing his own jeans.

"Well ... what would you do if I was a girl?"

Sean shrugs.

"Give yeh a kiss, tell yeh yeh're lovely, bit of a finger, try me luck."

"Same thing, just don't forget the butter," Orlando grins.

He steps out of his jeans, and then out of his briefs. He walks to the couch, watching the way Sean watches him, his eyes quick and curious and definitely intrigued. Orlando kneels half-beside Sean, half in his lap. Sean lifts one hand, and moves his roughened palm down Orlando's side.

Sean eyelids flicker, and his lips part. He touches Orlando's stomach, his breastbone, his shoulder.

"Yeh've lovely ... skin," he murmurs.

He tugs Orlando in closer, lower, so he can kiss him on the mouth ... on the throat ... the nipple. Orlando snarls softly, and digs his fingers into Sean's hair.

Sean's hands move down Orlando's spine, over the cheeks of his behind, down the backs of his thighs.

" ... lovely ... "

Orlando folds forwards, and Sean shifts aside, over, so that Orlando's on his knees with his forearms on the back of the couch, and Sean's leaning over him.

Orlando exhales, the scents of wine and pepper and butter crowding in around him.

"Jus' ... like that?" Sean asks quietly, as a couple of his fingertips -- satiny-slippery with melting butter -- fit themselves to the round of Orlando's anus.

Orlando gasps, and bends a little more, pushing back into Sean's touch. Sean rocks the pressure a little, side to side, and then pushes in just a little.

Orlando slurs a sound of deep, dirty appreciation.

"Ye ... eah."

Heat floods all over his body. Sean pushes harder, and his fingers bear inwards slowly. Orlando groans, his body flexing open so strongly that it feels like he's turning himself inside out.

"Oh ... yeah."

Sean cackles a little.

"Yeh ... bad girl," he mutters.

Orlando presses his own laughter again his arm, too pleasured to be self-conscious. Sean curls his fingers and draws them slowly back, and then plunges in again more quickly. Orlando squirms.

"Too much?"

"N -- no, not enough," Orlando complains.

Sean grunts, and Orlando's body falls into pieces. Sean thrusts his fingers, twists them, jags them inside Orlando and knocks loose delicious quivers. Orlando writhes, wriggles.

"Yeah," Sean breathes, biting softly at Orlando's ear and neck and shoulder. "Yeah."

"Oh God - oh God - oh shit," Orlando gasps, as bolts of red-hot lightening arc through him.

He grabs the dishcloth and bundles it against himself, smothering the top of his cock in rough cotton.

" - oh shit - "

Orlando comes, a delightful shuddering climax that tumbles against the heat and friction of Sean's fingers inside him, and empties him out in half a dozen shocks that leave him shaking and swearing and sweating.

"Try me luck?" Sean laughs against Orlando's ear.

"Yes please."

Sean moves around behind him, the butter wrapper making whispery sounds. Sean's free hand strokes down Orlando's back, curves around his waist.

" ... aye, just ... "

Orlando rocks back a little, and Sean's right there - Sean's cock is right there, rock hard, ready for action. Sean nudges in, nearer. Orlando pushes back and there's a hot hard slither as Sean's cock slips between Orlando's buttocks, and in.

"Fuck fuck fuckfuck -- "

Orlando's just babbling, bearing down and pushing back and rocking his hips from side to side. Sean keeps pushing in, steady and certain.

" -- fuck -- "

Sean starts to rock forwards and back, short, smooth strokes of his cock inside Orlando. Orlando clutches the back of the couch, swaying back from his hips and knees to meet each thrust.

Sean's got a rhythm, a steady merciless rhythm that makes Orlando squirm, makes him writhe and wriggle.

" -- fuck -- "

Sean's breathing harshly, but with the same controlled pace as the relentless rock of his hips.

" -- fuck -- good -- God -- " Orlando says feverishly.

Sean picks up the pace by a beat, by another.

" -- oh God -- oh -- God -- "

Sean's hands slide over Orlando's back, shaping over the flesh, down, up ... Orlando's going crazy, gone crazy, just gone.

" -- fuck God that's fucking great fucking great -- "

Sean grunts, a distant acknowledgement of his own brilliance. Orlando's reduced to embracing the couch back and sobbing his breath through his teeth.

" -- oh -- uh "

Sean rocks faster, harder, with a savage slam at the end of each thrust. Orlando's eyes tear up, and his heart starts trying to batter its way out his chest. Sean coils up, his fingers digging deeply enough into Orlando's waist to momentarily distract Orlando from everything else.

Sean roars, his whole body quivering and his cock jumping inside Orlando.

"Oh -- yeh -- "

"Oh fuck yeah," Orlando yells, his own body spinning off in relief and delight as if Sean's orgasm is releasing something in him too.

Sean leans down on Orlando's back, and strokes one hand down Orlando's thigh.

"Never fail spaghetti," Sean says smugly. "Never fails."

"You weren't trying to get me, though," Orlando says. "Were you?"

"You think I couldn't make egg and chips if I wanted too?" Sean laughs.

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