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fellowshippers2005-02-06 02:39 am
amourality.livejournal.com) wrote in fellowshippers2005-02-06 02:39 am
(no subject)
The first part seemed to go down well, so here's the second ;).
Title: Whatever
Author: Ami
Rating: NC-17ish
Pairing: Marshall Mathers/Orlando Bloom
Summary: Sequel to Regardless
Disclaimer: I made it up. To my knowledge it never happened.
Marshall decided that ignorance was bliss. He could have watched Orlando on the entertainment shows or read about him in the magazines his little girl sometimes brought home, but Orlando had this tendency to get caught on camera with his arms or lips attached to other people. Not that Marshall cared or got a dull thud in his stomach or gave a fuck what Orlando did when they weren’t together because Marshall didn’t do shit like that; not about girls and not about guys. It was just that Marshall wanted Orlando only to exist in the few hours they were together because that made it like a fantasy, that made it unreal, that made it something he didn’t have to think about. When someone had once asked him about Orlando Bloom, he’d said ‘Orlando who?’
"Orlando Bloom."
The way he’d smiled made lust at first sight seem like the understatement of the century.
"Yeh. I saw you in that Rings thing. It was good."
That should have been it, passed by, over, but their eyes were locked and entire sentences were being spoken without a word.
"Thank you. Your latest album was amazing."
Small talk. Pointless, unnecessary punctuation to the words unspoken.
"Thanks."
Quiet.
"You’re welcome."
Almost a whisper.
Thirty minutes later, in the first empty room they’d found that locked, they lay softly gasping for air as Marshall ran his tongue along Orlando’s neck, tasting sweat and skin, savouring his final taste before they said goodbye.
Orlando decided that he didn’t need Marshall. He could switch off the TV if Marshall came on because he didn’t need to see him. He would walk out of a shop if Marshall came on the radio because he didn’t need to hear him. He could distract himself easily if a memory fluttered in because he didn’t need to think about him. He hadn’t even brought the latest album and when someone had given him a copy, he’d almost said he’d never heard of Eminem. Orlando had hundreds of friends and Marshall wasn’t one of them. They had nothing in common. They just fucked.
Wrapped together, drenched in each other, already half hard again, just because. A single kiss had passed, wet, soft and open-mouthed, not sex because they’d both felt it somewhere else, not leading them anywhere they’d been already. It lasted two seconds and it terrified them. So Orlando fucked Marshall until he felt the muscles in his thighs start to tear, and Marshall begged for more.
Marshall brought the aftershave that Orlando wore because he liked the way it smelt on him after they’d been together and because a couple of his friends had commented that it wasn’t what he usually wore. Not because it reminded him of Orlando.
He crept up on Orlando, throwing both arms tightly around his waist and pulling him close, pressing his face to Orlando’s jaw. Slow, measured inhalation. A soft, low moan as he exhaled. "Fuck you smell good."
Orlando wore a t-shirt in bed that Marshall had given him once after his shirt had been torn because he liked the way the material felt against his skin and because it looked good on him. Not because it reminded him of Marshall.
He crept up on Marshall, sliding his hands under the baggy t-shirt, smooth tight skin beneath his fingers. "Fuck you look hot."
"I’m glad you like it, cos you probably gonna have to wear it home after I rip that shirt off of you."
Marshall never thought about Orlando. Orlando never thought about Marshall. Because they’d agreed. Once a month. Whatever.
Title: Whatever
Author: Ami
Rating: NC-17ish
Pairing: Marshall Mathers/Orlando Bloom
Summary: Sequel to Regardless
Disclaimer: I made it up. To my knowledge it never happened.
Marshall decided that ignorance was bliss. He could have watched Orlando on the entertainment shows or read about him in the magazines his little girl sometimes brought home, but Orlando had this tendency to get caught on camera with his arms or lips attached to other people. Not that Marshall cared or got a dull thud in his stomach or gave a fuck what Orlando did when they weren’t together because Marshall didn’t do shit like that; not about girls and not about guys. It was just that Marshall wanted Orlando only to exist in the few hours they were together because that made it like a fantasy, that made it unreal, that made it something he didn’t have to think about. When someone had once asked him about Orlando Bloom, he’d said ‘Orlando who?’
"Orlando Bloom."
The way he’d smiled made lust at first sight seem like the understatement of the century.
"Yeh. I saw you in that Rings thing. It was good."
That should have been it, passed by, over, but their eyes were locked and entire sentences were being spoken without a word.
"Thank you. Your latest album was amazing."
Small talk. Pointless, unnecessary punctuation to the words unspoken.
"Thanks."
Quiet.
"You’re welcome."
Almost a whisper.
Thirty minutes later, in the first empty room they’d found that locked, they lay softly gasping for air as Marshall ran his tongue along Orlando’s neck, tasting sweat and skin, savouring his final taste before they said goodbye.
Orlando decided that he didn’t need Marshall. He could switch off the TV if Marshall came on because he didn’t need to see him. He would walk out of a shop if Marshall came on the radio because he didn’t need to hear him. He could distract himself easily if a memory fluttered in because he didn’t need to think about him. He hadn’t even brought the latest album and when someone had given him a copy, he’d almost said he’d never heard of Eminem. Orlando had hundreds of friends and Marshall wasn’t one of them. They had nothing in common. They just fucked.
Wrapped together, drenched in each other, already half hard again, just because. A single kiss had passed, wet, soft and open-mouthed, not sex because they’d both felt it somewhere else, not leading them anywhere they’d been already. It lasted two seconds and it terrified them. So Orlando fucked Marshall until he felt the muscles in his thighs start to tear, and Marshall begged for more.
Marshall brought the aftershave that Orlando wore because he liked the way it smelt on him after they’d been together and because a couple of his friends had commented that it wasn’t what he usually wore. Not because it reminded him of Orlando.
He crept up on Orlando, throwing both arms tightly around his waist and pulling him close, pressing his face to Orlando’s jaw. Slow, measured inhalation. A soft, low moan as he exhaled. "Fuck you smell good."
Orlando wore a t-shirt in bed that Marshall had given him once after his shirt had been torn because he liked the way the material felt against his skin and because it looked good on him. Not because it reminded him of Marshall.
He crept up on Marshall, sliding his hands under the baggy t-shirt, smooth tight skin beneath his fingers. "Fuck you look hot."
"I’m glad you like it, cos you probably gonna have to wear it home after I rip that shirt off of you."
Marshall never thought about Orlando. Orlando never thought about Marshall. Because they’d agreed. Once a month. Whatever.
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Hope there will be more of this soon :D
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I love your icon btw :D.
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I love it.
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