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fellowshippers2003-06-20 12:42 pm
skyeathena.livejournal.com) wrote in fellowshippers2003-06-20 12:42 pm
Fic: One of Those Days (1 of 2) OB/KU NC17ish
Title: One of Those Days (1 of 2)
Author: Skyeathena (marmalade_skye@msn.com)
Rating: Inbetween R and NC17
Pairing: Orlando/Karl
Summary: Sometimes a look is enough to say that it's supposed to happen.
Disclaimer: I own nothing and know nobody. 100% fiction.
Notes: This is for jennandanica, whose selfless efforts of fic dedication deserve some smut (yes, darling, I’m fulfilling your Viggorli need in part two) and also for maidazia- happy birthday sweetie! I don’t know what I think of this, hopefully you guys will be honest if something doesn’t seem right.
Sometimes there was love. A gut wrenching-pour your soul out and watch it slowly flow into a street gutter whose opening was currently occupied with liquor bottles and broken dreams-kind of love.
Most days, all that existed was a general compassion. You see the world around you and all of the people in it as necessary fixtures. It’s a never-ending cycle of blandness; kisses on the cheek and telling yourself that this is good enough.
And then there are days like today; an odd cosmic occurrence where I am in the same passionate, ration-murdering mood as he is.
We haven’t uttered anything about the newfound liveliness that has flown through our veins. We don’t need to, it’s all shown in the extended stares then the constant display of appearing busy and needed. I haven’t even talked to Orlando since earlier this week. After about two weeks of this intense filming; everybody got to know one another more than they wish and now we’re putting aside any social kindness to just finish this goddamn thing.
When we do talk, it is while on our way home at who knows what fucking time. Not that I’m complaining or anything. I live for this shit.
I’m laying down in the grass, hoping the time that it takes to work out a new lighting plot is enough to get in a good nap. After all it’s nighttime, my body hasn’t yet accepted this new nocturnal phase. I shouldn’t even be here, really. However, Peter is an optimist and actually under the impression that we’ll get to my scenes every time I costume. Oh well, it’s his money.
So I spend my time as a crew member with apparently, really bad fashion sense.
A couple of the Rohan extras walk past me, shaking their head and mumbling ‘lucky bastard’. I toss a pebble at one of their heads, smiling as he looks back at me. Since I know shit about the technical aspect of making movies my work on set just consists of me playing gopher for those who actually work.
Oh shit, he’s looking at me. Again. Laying down earlier made it so I was out of his line of vision but after I sat up to throw that pebble, I guess I made my presence known.
I look back but make it seem like I’m not looking back. What is it about Orlando Bloom that makes you feel like you’re in high school again? He’s sitting with Viggo who sees me staring too. He looks at me supposedly not looking at Orlando and smiles, rolling his tired eyes. Then he motions for me to just get the fuck over there already.
And so I begin the tedious walk over to the two of them, not looking at Orlando and instead pretending to be fixated on a broken set piece in the distance. Yes, because I’m just an artsy motherfucker like that.
“Method actor, my arse.” I mumble to Viggo who is currently braiding a section of Orlando’s wig. Or perhaps I should describe it as tying various knots in an attempt to make it look like a braid.
Orlando giggles. Maybe it’s his youth or rumored addiction to speed, but he’s managed to become delirious due to filming. It was a lot more fun to be around than everyone else’s state of hopeless aggravation.
“It’s method acting if Aragorn’s flamingly gay. So yeah, he‘s in character…”
Viggo pulls the braid ever so slightly, Orlando whinges and giggles some more. “I am in character! Looking out for my elf brother by making sure that he doesn’t have blonde blowing in his eyes whilst trying to use his weapon of choice.”
Orlando pouts. “You wouldn’t know what to do with my weapon of choice, old man.”
I wonder what quality it is of his that allows him to be perfectly calm as he slides his foot up and down my leg. It is such a graceful action, as if he’s barefoot with silk pajamas and all the time in the world to kill. I want that quality. I crave that quality.
“Uh oh Vig. I do believe silky-tresses here is flirting with you.”
Vig shakes his head. “Or trying to make somebody jealous.”
Orlando doesn’t even blush as he’s patted on the head by his respective hairdresser before he leaves to get some food. He instead looks at me.
“Tell me something interesting.”
“Erm. Racecar spelled backwards is racecar.”
“Ah.” He is trying to untangle his braid. “I didn’t know that.”
I take the tangled hair from his hands, silently offering to do it myself. He drops his but not without sliding his fingers across my wrist. Another Orlando quirk- he can make the most obscure and innocent places seem incredibly erotic with a single touch of his finger.
“I thought everybody knew that.” I say, trying to resist the urge to kiss the curve of his neck.
“What can I say, I’m sheltered.” He grins, then gets up. “Oh, looks like they’re ready for us again.”
More hours pass. Finally we’re dismissed only to repeat the process tomorrow. Or actually I should say later on today.
I headed back to my trailer amongst a few staggering others doing the same. Pretending not to notice or care that Orlando was walking with me, out of talking range but well past where he would turn to go to his place.
I don’t say anything when he closes the space between us and walks so close to me he starts to take equal strides. And I pretend not to notice that all of the other people who were either making their way to their cars or trailers (if they were lucky) are no longer with us. Complete silence as it is just the two of us during the early stages of a Friday morning, walking through misty grass and sharing some kind of strange common knowledge.
Still, I say nothing as he takes the key to my ratty but appreciated trailer and throws it into the overgrown grass surrounding it. He says nothing as he slinks an arm around my waist and draws himself close to my body. Our breathing, sporadic and heavy, speaks for us as our silent lips meet one another.
I can feel the sun on my back, much needed warmth that feeds my senses as he removes his own shirt, smiling under me and craning his neck upwards for another seemingly aggressive kiss.
I’ve always thought of peaceful settings like this being conducive to young couples in adoration; putting daisies behind one another’s ear and cuddling. I feel like Orlando and I are tainting the land, scratching and pushing at one another’s flesh in a desperate, dizzying fix to experience more of one another.
Then I stop even thinking because his teeth are scraping my nipples and he lets out an overwhelmed squeak as my upper thigh rubs between his legs in what must have been the perfect angle.
He’s gasping now, we’ve managed to remove all of our clothing. “I’m going to fuck you now Karl, hope you don’t mind.”
“Oh no.” I whimper. “Do as you please.”
He laughs at my polite nonchalance, reaching for a condom. I hope he thought to bring some kind of lube. He realizes that he was looking through my pants and groans as he begins to search through his own. He hands me the condom to put on and opens up a couple of layers of tissues to a glob of Vaseline that he had grabbed from makeup.
One finger, two. So fast, so powerful.
He’s straddled on top of me, blocking most of the sun. His eyes flutter closed as if in a state of euphoria as he enters me. It takes me a little bit to adjust myself so that he feels just right. By then he has slammed his entire cock inside me and I don’t know if I’m in pain or ecstasy. Every nerve in my body is buzzing frantically. Orlando’s hand cups around my length, stroking softly, rhythmically to counteract the uneven, urgent ramming of his hips.
“I’m in fucking heaven.” He assures me and I silently agree, lifting my body upward so my mouth can suck greedily around his collarbone.
It’s hard to keep still, the grass beneath us is damp and so we slide in and out of place. As he comes, he squeezes on to my cock and I follow suit. There’s that post-sex moment of confusion and sadness. As if that would be the last time either of us would ever go through those motions again.
He lifts his head from where it had collapsed on my chest, smiling at me. “Let’s get some fucking sleep, eh?”
I kiss him again, this time curious about what it feels like to be tender with him.
“You know, I do have a bed in there.”
He looks at the grass around him, the lining of trees that could have easily existed in middle earth.
“Yeah but today is one of those days, y’know.”
~tbc~
Author: Skyeathena (marmalade_skye@msn.com)
Rating: Inbetween R and NC17
Pairing: Orlando/Karl
Summary: Sometimes a look is enough to say that it's supposed to happen.
Disclaimer: I own nothing and know nobody. 100% fiction.
Notes: This is for jennandanica, whose selfless efforts of fic dedication deserve some smut (yes, darling, I’m fulfilling your Viggorli need in part two) and also for maidazia- happy birthday sweetie! I don’t know what I think of this, hopefully you guys will be honest if something doesn’t seem right.
Sometimes there was love. A gut wrenching-pour your soul out and watch it slowly flow into a street gutter whose opening was currently occupied with liquor bottles and broken dreams-kind of love.
Most days, all that existed was a general compassion. You see the world around you and all of the people in it as necessary fixtures. It’s a never-ending cycle of blandness; kisses on the cheek and telling yourself that this is good enough.
And then there are days like today; an odd cosmic occurrence where I am in the same passionate, ration-murdering mood as he is.
We haven’t uttered anything about the newfound liveliness that has flown through our veins. We don’t need to, it’s all shown in the extended stares then the constant display of appearing busy and needed. I haven’t even talked to Orlando since earlier this week. After about two weeks of this intense filming; everybody got to know one another more than they wish and now we’re putting aside any social kindness to just finish this goddamn thing.
When we do talk, it is while on our way home at who knows what fucking time. Not that I’m complaining or anything. I live for this shit.
I’m laying down in the grass, hoping the time that it takes to work out a new lighting plot is enough to get in a good nap. After all it’s nighttime, my body hasn’t yet accepted this new nocturnal phase. I shouldn’t even be here, really. However, Peter is an optimist and actually under the impression that we’ll get to my scenes every time I costume. Oh well, it’s his money.
So I spend my time as a crew member with apparently, really bad fashion sense.
A couple of the Rohan extras walk past me, shaking their head and mumbling ‘lucky bastard’. I toss a pebble at one of their heads, smiling as he looks back at me. Since I know shit about the technical aspect of making movies my work on set just consists of me playing gopher for those who actually work.
Oh shit, he’s looking at me. Again. Laying down earlier made it so I was out of his line of vision but after I sat up to throw that pebble, I guess I made my presence known.
I look back but make it seem like I’m not looking back. What is it about Orlando Bloom that makes you feel like you’re in high school again? He’s sitting with Viggo who sees me staring too. He looks at me supposedly not looking at Orlando and smiles, rolling his tired eyes. Then he motions for me to just get the fuck over there already.
And so I begin the tedious walk over to the two of them, not looking at Orlando and instead pretending to be fixated on a broken set piece in the distance. Yes, because I’m just an artsy motherfucker like that.
“Method actor, my arse.” I mumble to Viggo who is currently braiding a section of Orlando’s wig. Or perhaps I should describe it as tying various knots in an attempt to make it look like a braid.
Orlando giggles. Maybe it’s his youth or rumored addiction to speed, but he’s managed to become delirious due to filming. It was a lot more fun to be around than everyone else’s state of hopeless aggravation.
“It’s method acting if Aragorn’s flamingly gay. So yeah, he‘s in character…”
Viggo pulls the braid ever so slightly, Orlando whinges and giggles some more. “I am in character! Looking out for my elf brother by making sure that he doesn’t have blonde blowing in his eyes whilst trying to use his weapon of choice.”
Orlando pouts. “You wouldn’t know what to do with my weapon of choice, old man.”
I wonder what quality it is of his that allows him to be perfectly calm as he slides his foot up and down my leg. It is such a graceful action, as if he’s barefoot with silk pajamas and all the time in the world to kill. I want that quality. I crave that quality.
“Uh oh Vig. I do believe silky-tresses here is flirting with you.”
Vig shakes his head. “Or trying to make somebody jealous.”
Orlando doesn’t even blush as he’s patted on the head by his respective hairdresser before he leaves to get some food. He instead looks at me.
“Tell me something interesting.”
“Erm. Racecar spelled backwards is racecar.”
“Ah.” He is trying to untangle his braid. “I didn’t know that.”
I take the tangled hair from his hands, silently offering to do it myself. He drops his but not without sliding his fingers across my wrist. Another Orlando quirk- he can make the most obscure and innocent places seem incredibly erotic with a single touch of his finger.
“I thought everybody knew that.” I say, trying to resist the urge to kiss the curve of his neck.
“What can I say, I’m sheltered.” He grins, then gets up. “Oh, looks like they’re ready for us again.”
More hours pass. Finally we’re dismissed only to repeat the process tomorrow. Or actually I should say later on today.
I headed back to my trailer amongst a few staggering others doing the same. Pretending not to notice or care that Orlando was walking with me, out of talking range but well past where he would turn to go to his place.
I don’t say anything when he closes the space between us and walks so close to me he starts to take equal strides. And I pretend not to notice that all of the other people who were either making their way to their cars or trailers (if they were lucky) are no longer with us. Complete silence as it is just the two of us during the early stages of a Friday morning, walking through misty grass and sharing some kind of strange common knowledge.
Still, I say nothing as he takes the key to my ratty but appreciated trailer and throws it into the overgrown grass surrounding it. He says nothing as he slinks an arm around my waist and draws himself close to my body. Our breathing, sporadic and heavy, speaks for us as our silent lips meet one another.
I can feel the sun on my back, much needed warmth that feeds my senses as he removes his own shirt, smiling under me and craning his neck upwards for another seemingly aggressive kiss.
I’ve always thought of peaceful settings like this being conducive to young couples in adoration; putting daisies behind one another’s ear and cuddling. I feel like Orlando and I are tainting the land, scratching and pushing at one another’s flesh in a desperate, dizzying fix to experience more of one another.
Then I stop even thinking because his teeth are scraping my nipples and he lets out an overwhelmed squeak as my upper thigh rubs between his legs in what must have been the perfect angle.
He’s gasping now, we’ve managed to remove all of our clothing. “I’m going to fuck you now Karl, hope you don’t mind.”
“Oh no.” I whimper. “Do as you please.”
He laughs at my polite nonchalance, reaching for a condom. I hope he thought to bring some kind of lube. He realizes that he was looking through my pants and groans as he begins to search through his own. He hands me the condom to put on and opens up a couple of layers of tissues to a glob of Vaseline that he had grabbed from makeup.
One finger, two. So fast, so powerful.
He’s straddled on top of me, blocking most of the sun. His eyes flutter closed as if in a state of euphoria as he enters me. It takes me a little bit to adjust myself so that he feels just right. By then he has slammed his entire cock inside me and I don’t know if I’m in pain or ecstasy. Every nerve in my body is buzzing frantically. Orlando’s hand cups around my length, stroking softly, rhythmically to counteract the uneven, urgent ramming of his hips.
“I’m in fucking heaven.” He assures me and I silently agree, lifting my body upward so my mouth can suck greedily around his collarbone.
It’s hard to keep still, the grass beneath us is damp and so we slide in and out of place. As he comes, he squeezes on to my cock and I follow suit. There’s that post-sex moment of confusion and sadness. As if that would be the last time either of us would ever go through those motions again.
He lifts his head from where it had collapsed on my chest, smiling at me. “Let’s get some fucking sleep, eh?”
I kiss him again, this time curious about what it feels like to be tender with him.
“You know, I do have a bed in there.”
He looks at the grass around him, the lining of trees that could have easily existed in middle earth.
“Yeah but today is one of those days, y’know.”
~tbc~
no subject
thank you!
no subject
*don't mind me while I just stare at your bean icon a while...*
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One teeny, tiny thing...*trembles, not wanting to criticze* You do know that using Vaseline with a condom is a bad idea right? The petroleum breaks down the condom, causing it to bust. Sorry, the safe sex advocate in me couldn't NOT say anything. But a lot of slash isn't about safe sex, so no big deal. *shrugs*
no subject
Oh shit.
How is it that I *a normally anal retentive safe sex advocate* didn't know that? Thank you so much for telling me. Now I'm going to have to spread the news!
and on a less important note :D
Thank you kindly for the review.
And I luv your icon. Anything that mixes Dogma and LOTR is absolutely wonderful in my little world!
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Meant to tell you that I love your Orlislash icon in the first post. It's great.
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this was delicious. I've been craving some Karl and Orli, seeing as I finally saw the Price of Milk and then watched my VCD of Towers three times this week.
It just..works. I'm very much contented, right now.
;)
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Delighted for the review dah-ling!!!
*Tempted to go get the bootleg of TTT on ebay.*
no subject
Loved it!