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fellowshippers2004-07-14 08:24 am
cloudlessclimes.livejournal.com) wrote in fellowshippers2004-07-14 08:24 am
(no subject)
Title: No Good Deed Goes Unpunished
Author:![[livejournal.com profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/external/lj-userinfo.gif)
cloudlessclimes
Rated: PG-some swearing
Pairing: OB/EW
Disclaimer: This is purely a product of my diseased mind and has no bearing on reality what so ever, I own no one, I know no one
Summary: Orlando's in London, Elijah's in London, and that's about it.
Feedback: Is a wonderful thing
Notes: Written for![[livejournal.com profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/external/lj-community.gif)
lotrpschallenge #12
Word count: 499!
Orlando exited The Tube at a random station. More at ease than he’d been had in ages; he smiled to himself, tugging his knit cap lower over his mist-rioted curls. He headed down the street, no particular destination in mind. While London wasn’t technically home, it was close enough. His long strides felt good over familiar road.
Startled from his musings by a familiar voice, Orlando stopped mid-step and listened. There it was, again. Elijah. Yelling. Like he was in pain. Or angry. Orlando jogged ‘round the corner towards where he thought the cry had come from.
A crowd had gathered--some kind of drunken brawl. Those outside of the pub were still knocking each other about with mad abandon. Through the melee, Orlando managed a glimpse of familiar to him as breathing sweetly pointed face and flashing blue eyes. “Lij!” he cried, feeling his heart drop to his stomach. Orlando fought his way through the punters, roughly yanking aside those who dared get in his way.
“Lij! Elijah!” The crowd seemed to be calming. By the time Orlando was standing at Elijah’s side, he was no longer fighting, but staring at a near hysterical with worry Orli.
“Fuck! Lijah. Who did this to you? I’ll kill the fuckers,” Orlando drew the smaller man close to him, and probed a bloodied cheek with gentle fingers.
“Orli? Orlando! Stop! Stop! I’m fine! See?” Elijah managed to wrestle one arm free and used it to run his fingers along the side of his face, scraping rivulets through the thick grease paint.
Orlando gaped in blank confusion at the sticky red fingers being waved in front of him. “Wha..?”
“We’re making a movie, Orli.” Orlando turned to see the sniggering face of crew and extras, and the irate expression on the face of a woman he assumed must be the director.
“C’mon.” Elijah grabbed Orlando’s hand, dragging him away from the tittering crowd, into a near by alley.
“Shit,” Orlando bowed his head, his heart still doing a fear, adrenaline, and embarrassment induced cha-cha in his throat.
“My hero!” Elijah laughed. He wound his arms around Orlando’s neck, and tilting his face up, kissed the taller man fiercely.
Collapsing back against the crumbling brick wall, Orlando managed to mumble “Sod off,” before sliding his tongue between Elijah’s lips. He bit, and sucked, and lapped at the delicate pink fullness beneath his own broad mouth. “Why didn’t you tell me you were going to be in London?” he managed to pant.
Fitting his body more snugly against Orlando’s lanky frame, Elijah answered, “Because I thought you were in Morocco, or Spain, or where ever the fuck you said you were.” With each word he traced a path of hot, bite-licks along Orlando’s jaw, before teasingly tracing the lobe of an ear with his tongue.
Sighing contentedly, Orlando leaned his dark head into Elijah’s attentions, and nuzzled at his jaw. “Woulda told you I was coming home this week end. Why didn’t you call?”
Author:
cloudlessclimes Rated: PG-some swearing
Pairing: OB/EW
Disclaimer: This is purely a product of my diseased mind and has no bearing on reality what so ever, I own no one, I know no one
Summary: Orlando's in London, Elijah's in London, and that's about it.
Feedback: Is a wonderful thing
Notes: Written for
lotrpschallenge #12Word count: 499!
Orlando exited The Tube at a random station. More at ease than he’d been had in ages; he smiled to himself, tugging his knit cap lower over his mist-rioted curls. He headed down the street, no particular destination in mind. While London wasn’t technically home, it was close enough. His long strides felt good over familiar road.
Startled from his musings by a familiar voice, Orlando stopped mid-step and listened. There it was, again. Elijah. Yelling. Like he was in pain. Or angry. Orlando jogged ‘round the corner towards where he thought the cry had come from.
A crowd had gathered--some kind of drunken brawl. Those outside of the pub were still knocking each other about with mad abandon. Through the melee, Orlando managed a glimpse of familiar to him as breathing sweetly pointed face and flashing blue eyes. “Lij!” he cried, feeling his heart drop to his stomach. Orlando fought his way through the punters, roughly yanking aside those who dared get in his way.
“Lij! Elijah!” The crowd seemed to be calming. By the time Orlando was standing at Elijah’s side, he was no longer fighting, but staring at a near hysterical with worry Orli.
“Fuck! Lijah. Who did this to you? I’ll kill the fuckers,” Orlando drew the smaller man close to him, and probed a bloodied cheek with gentle fingers.
“Orli? Orlando! Stop! Stop! I’m fine! See?” Elijah managed to wrestle one arm free and used it to run his fingers along the side of his face, scraping rivulets through the thick grease paint.
Orlando gaped in blank confusion at the sticky red fingers being waved in front of him. “Wha..?”
“We’re making a movie, Orli.” Orlando turned to see the sniggering face of crew and extras, and the irate expression on the face of a woman he assumed must be the director.
“C’mon.” Elijah grabbed Orlando’s hand, dragging him away from the tittering crowd, into a near by alley.
“Shit,” Orlando bowed his head, his heart still doing a fear, adrenaline, and embarrassment induced cha-cha in his throat.
“My hero!” Elijah laughed. He wound his arms around Orlando’s neck, and tilting his face up, kissed the taller man fiercely.
Collapsing back against the crumbling brick wall, Orlando managed to mumble “Sod off,” before sliding his tongue between Elijah’s lips. He bit, and sucked, and lapped at the delicate pink fullness beneath his own broad mouth. “Why didn’t you tell me you were going to be in London?” he managed to pant.
Fitting his body more snugly against Orlando’s lanky frame, Elijah answered, “Because I thought you were in Morocco, or Spain, or where ever the fuck you said you were.” With each word he traced a path of hot, bite-licks along Orlando’s jaw, before teasingly tracing the lobe of an ear with his tongue.
Sighing contentedly, Orlando leaned his dark head into Elijah’s attentions, and nuzzled at his jaw. “Woulda told you I was coming home this week end. Why didn’t you call?”