FIC: Material World 1 (Jason), RPS, Orlando Bloom/Jason Isaacs, NC-17, kinky)

[telesilla.livejournal.com]

Material World 1 (Jason)
Authors: darkrose and telesilla
Fandom/Pairing: RPS, Orlando Bloom/Jason Isaacs
Series: Material World
Warnings/Rating: NC-17 for kinky sex
Summary: Orlando's a "male escort," Jason's a screenwriter.
Disclaimer: Not RL; didn't happen. If you think this has anything to do with the real actors involved, then you need to put down the crack pipe.

Notes: Orlando as whore has to be one of the bigger RPS clichés, but hell, it's a pretty one and we wanted to play with it. So stick with us while Orli meets Clive (an entertainment lawyer), Ioan (the spoiled son of a wealthy filmmaker), Liam (as himself), Viggo (an artist turned animator) and Sean (a lighting tech). Mnay thanks to padawanhilary for the beta.

~*~*~


Vines is crowded for a Tuesday night, but Jason's barely made it to his table before one of the servers comes to take his order. The boy's not more than 22, and as pretty as any of the other servers in this or anyplace in Los Angeles like it. Jason's not interested in that tonight, so he simply orders a bottle of the Grenache and the cheese plate, and pulls out his laptop in a clear gesture of dismissal.

"God," Matt says to Orlando as they look over at the newcomer's table. "Bet his suit cost more than your car."

"Oh please," Orlando replies. "A suit from Men's Warehouse costs more than my car did. Wonder if he's just here to be here, or if he's shopping." He frowns a little. "He looks sort of familiar."

The boy--Jason can't remember his name--brings his wine and food quickly. Jason nods an absent thanks and goes back to staring at his blank screen. He's been stuck on this scene for weeks, which is part of the reason he came to Vines tonight. If I can't find inspiration, and least I can get a nice, no-strings-attached fuck.

Several other men come into the bar, but although Orlando would settle for any of them, he's still more interested in the man in the expensive suit -- Hugo Boss, maybe?. He shakes his head a little; after all, it's totally possible that he just thinks he's seen the guy somewhere. Los Angeles does that to you, makes you think you're going to hook up with someone who is, if not famous, at least connected somehow.

Jason sips his wine, taking the opportunity to scan the boys at the bar; usually, at least one or two of them are available. He spots an attractive blond, but he's tired of that look. The young man next to him, on the other hand...tanned, with thick, artfully tousled dark hair. With his loose black shirt, black jeans, and Doc Martens, he should look ridiculous, but he's handsome enough to pull it off.

That will do nicely, Jason decides, beckoning the server over again.

At various times, Orlando's had good wine. The glass of red that Scott brings over isn't good wine, it's extraordinary, and far far out of Orlando's price range. He's not at all surprised to be told that bloke in the suit ordered it for him and he smiles as he leaves the bar and heads to the man's table. "Thank you," he says, settling across the table from the bloke. Thanks to one of his mates, he recognizes the laptop as a high end Apple. "This is an amazing wine."

"Good, isn't it?" Jason says, smiling and closing the laptop. "I love the color--it's what you'd imagine rubies would taste like, if you distilled them down to their essence. Smoke and fire."

It's a good line, a little over the top, but whoever the bloke is, he's smooth. And he's a fellow Brit, which just makes him seem even more like someone Orlando should recognize. "I never thought of it that way," he says, taking a sip while keeping his eyes on the man.

"You sound like you're as far from home as I am," Jason continues. "Where are you from?" The boy's accent sounds like London; not quite RP, but practiced enough that it may or may not be what he was born speaking.

"Canterbury originally," Orlando says. "I was in a band for a while in London and then came here." He looks a little embarrassed -- a look he has down well -- and then smiles ruefully. "Wanted to be an actor."

Of course you did. "Well, this is certainly the place to be for that," Jason says. "It's certainly why I'm here--well, that and the weather." He takes another sip of the wine, watching the boy carefully. "Forgive me--I haven't introduced myself. I'm Jason."

"Oh of course," Orlando says, his eyes getting a little wide. "You wrote The City Game and Clever Beauty." There are a couple of others, but Orlando can only remember the names of screenplays that led to Jason's Oscars. "I really liked Beauty," he adds.

It's the expected response, but the boy does the wide-eyed fanboy routine well enough that Jason's almost convinced. "I enjoyed that one," he tells the boy, leaning forward slightly. "Although, to tell you the truth, Periodicity may always be my favorite out of anything I've done, just because it was the first."

Orlando has to rack his brain for a moment before he remembers the movie. Like the more famous ones, it was a witty, sophisticated comedy about clever and slightly decadent rich people and their tangled up lives. "They made that one back home didn't they?" he asks, not wanting to admit that he really can't remember the details.

"Yeah. It was better received over here, so I decided to try my luck on this side of the pond." Jason takes a piece of cheese from the plate and gestures to the boy. "Help yourself, if you like."

"Thank you," Orlando says. "I miss Blighty sometimes." He wonders if Jason will actually want anything more than a bit of a chat. He hopes so; Jason's rich, somewhat famous and good looking. Just the kind of trick a bloke dreams about.

"The nice thing about LA is that there are enough of us expats here that you can find a taste of home if you know where to look," Jason tells the boy, looking directly at him as he speaks. Watching the boy eat a slice of cheese, pink tongue licking his lips to catch every crumb, Jason can't help but wonder what that mouth would look like wrapped around his cock.

"And what sort of tastes do you have?" Orlando asks, running his tongue over his lips. This is almost too easy.

"Eclectic," Jason says. "I have a wide variety of interests, but I'm especially fond of beautiful things." He reaches for another slice of cheese and holds it up to the boy.

Leaning forward, Orlando takes a neat bite of the cheese. "I'm flattered," he says, looking at Jason through slightly lowered lashes. There's no modesty here, it would be ridiculous for Orlando to pretend not to know the effect of his looks.

"Mmm..." Jason rubs his thumb along the boy's lips. Perfect. "Do you have a name, o flattered one?"

"Orlando." He laughs a little. "Honestly, it's my real name."

Jason laughs. "Your mother read Virginia Woolf? Well, it does suit you." He finishes his wine and, taking out his wallet, tosses a few bills onto the table. "I'd very much like to get to know you better, Orlando--if you're interested, of course."

Even if Orlando hadn't been interested, the size of the tip Jason carelessly tossed on the table would have been enough to convince him. "I'd enjoy that," he says, glancing over at the bar. Matt's gone already and none of Orlando's other friends are around and so he smiles at Jason. "Shall we?"

The valet brings Jason's Z8 around quickly. Vines is only two blocks from a very nice hotel that Jason's used for a similar purpose before. He gets a room, and he and Orlando take the elevator up to the 20th floor.

"Would you like a drink?" Jason asks once they're in the room, taking off his suit jacket and hanging it over one of the chairs.

The nice car, the posh hotel ... the whole thing is familiar to Orlando and he smiles seductively as he moves to the mini bar. "I'm alright. Would you like something?"

"What's the vodka they've got?" Jason unbuttons his shirt. Don't want it to get torn later on.

"It's a good place," Orlando says before he even opens up the little fridge. "Grey Goose. You want it straight?"

"Yes, thank you," Jason says, wondering if Orlando has been here before. I wouldn't be surprised in the least. He slides his belt out of his pants and wraps one end around his hand as he stalks toward Orlando, footsteps silent on the thick carpet. Coming up behind Orlando, Jason grabs a handful of the boy's hair and yanks his head back.

"On second thought, I think I'll skip the drink," he says softly.

Busy putting ice into a glass, Orlando hadn't even heard Jason's approach, and the ice goes everywhere as he drops the glass onto the carpeted floor. "All right," he says, going still. "Rough will run you extra."

"Oh, I can pay," Jason says as he shoves Orlando face-up onto the bed. He runs his hands over Orlando's slim hips with one hand as he unfastens Orlando's jeans. "I want to see if you look as good hurting as I think you will."

He's a little too well-known to risk really hurting me, Orlando thinks, letting his eyes go wide again. And not well connected enough to make me disappear. It's a calculated risk, but so is being a hustler. "You want a fight?"

"Up to you." Jason tugs Orlando's jeans off and reaches up to stroke the boy's face. "Can't promise not to mark up that pretty face of yours if you struggle too much--your call if it's worth it to you to be off the streets for a while."

It's not all that usual for a customer to hit one of Orlando's buttons, but he rather likes the threats. "Please don't hurt me," he says, biting his lip and squirming a little.

Not a bad actor, Jason thinks, But he knows I can't risk doing him serious damage. Still... He moves his hand as if to caress Orlando, then changes the gesture to a slap, hitting mostly with the tips of his fingers and not at his full strength.

"Please?" Orlando says with a little whimper that he's actually quite proud of. "I'll do anything." He squirms again, shifting his hips up.

"Anything?" Jason slaps him again, harder this time. "You'd probably like it, too, wouldn't you? I don't think you're just on the game for the money."

"No," Orlando says, shaking his head. "I'm .... please. Don't hurt me."

"Save it for your next audition, boy," Jason sneers. He reaches up and yanks Orlando's shirt open, scattering buttons everywhere. "Just add it to my tab," he says carelessly. "On your stomach."

Mentally marking the shirt up by twenty dollars, Orlando rolls over. "Anything," he says. "Just please don't hurt me."

Jason picks up the belt he'd tossed on the bed earlier. Wrapping it around his hand, he brings it down sharply on Orlando's arse. "Hmmm...no, I'm afraid that hurting you is definitely part of the plan."

"Ow!" Orlando yelps, startled out of his role but the sharpness of the blow. "Bloody well hurts!"

"It's meant to," Jason tells him, bringing the belt down again with the same amount of force. "So tell me--was I right? Are you the sort of boy who likes this kind of thing?"

Given that Orlando's hard as a rock, it'd be hard to deny. But still.... "What makes you think that's what I like?"

"The way you're squirming, and the fact that your lovely prick got hard the moment I grabbed you." Jason's smile is almost feral as he lashes Orlando's arse and thighs with the belt, raising red welts on the smooth tanned skin.

Orlando doesn't mind the pain; in fact, he likes it. What he likes even more is the casual way Jason is going about this and the threat of even more violence if Orlando doesn't comply. "You're forcing me," he says, turning to look over his shoulder pleadingly.

Jason laughs. "Oh, you're good. The whimper's a nice touch; that works." He hits Orlando a few more times, then pauses to shake out his arm and to adjust his cock in his trousers. "The question is...do I fuck you this way, or on your back? Decisions, decisions..."

The blows are hard, at the limit of what Orlando thinks he can take, and he's a little glad when Jason stops. Only ... he's not really. It's weird, like finding the perfect wave and feeling that incredible combination of fear and speed. "Just don't hurt me any more," he says.

"I won't hurt you like that," Jason says, kicking off his Prada loafers and stepping out of his pants. He takes a condom and a packet of lube out of his laptop case and rolls the condom on, then slicks himself with just enough lube to ease his initial entry. "This part is going to hurt in a different way. Hands and knees." When Orlando complies, Jason shoves in hard.

"Fuck," Orlando says, bracing himself against the onslaught. "Bloody hell," he groans. "Hurts like fuck all."

Jason grunts. "Tight for a whore." Placing one hand on Orlando's hip and the other on his collarbone, just below his throat, Jason pulls out almost completely, then shoves into Orlando again.

A little nervous about that hand near his throat, Orlando stops complaining and moves back to meet Jason's thrusts. It's not bad, this fuck -- quite good really -- but Orlando's a professional and he's damned if he's going to come before his client does.

"That's it," Jason croons, breath hot against Orlando's ear. "Fuck yourself on my cock like the whore you are." He digs his fingers into Orlando's hip hard enough so that there will be bruises tomorrow.

"Yeah," Orlando moans. "God ... yeah." No point in doing anything other than what Jason wants when it's what Orlando wants as well. Sometimes this is the best bloody job ever.

Jason slams into Orlando as hard as he can, in time with the boy's frantic pulse that Jason can feel against his hand. Sliding his hand up, he squeezes just a little, curious to see how the boy will react.

This time Orlando's whimper isn't fake at all; this is too terrifying to be encouraged. And yet, he knows, somehow, that Jason will take his noises for encouragement, led on by the way Orlando hasn't stopped slamming back on Jason's cock.

Perfect. Jason's fingers tighten around Orlando's throat as he comes soundlessly. As soon as he's finished, he withdraws, tosses the condom away, and stretches out on the bed. "You want to come?" he asks Orlando.

His hand at his throat, Orlando stares at Jason, still surprised at the whole thing. "Would you like to see me come?" he asks, professional instinct taking over.

"Yes, I think I would." Jason smiles. "Wank off for me, there's a good little whore."

Letting his hand remain lightly on his throat, Orlando rolls over and grabs his cock with his other hand and begins stroking it. "You scared me," he says, looking at Jason through lowered eyes even as his breath gets uneven. "Really scared me."

"And did you like that? You liked being scared, not knowing for sure that I'd know when to stop?"

For once, there is no professional answer. Or at least the option is unappealing because the professional answer is the same as the truth, and Orlando doesn't like to sell that. "You frightened me," he murmurs and then, thinking about Jason's hand tight on his throat, Jason's cock slamming into him, he comes with a low groan.

Orlando looks gorgeous as he comes, and if Jason were younger, he'd be ready for another go just from watching him. Instead, he reaches over and strokes Orlando's hair. "Lovely. Thank you for giving me that."

I didn't give you a damn thing," Orlando thinks, but he resists the urge to hiss like a wet cat and smiles instead. "That was ... more than I expected," he says, his smile making it clear he's not complaining.

Jason gets up and stretches. "I'd like to take a quick shower, and then the rooms yours for the night--all paid for, of course." He goes into the shower and rinses off. It's a bit of a risk--the boy could easily steal everything Jason's got--but Jason's betting that Orlando's not that stupid.

Orlando may not be that stupid, but he's not above pulling Jason's wallet out of his pants pocket and rifling through it. Plenty of cash, which Orlando leaves alone -- he'll get his share in a bit -- several credit cards and a driver's license. Lives in Santa Monica, of course. Just like all the other ex-pats who came to California for the sun, Orlando thinks with a sneer as he memorizes the address before slipping the wallet back into Jason's pants.

Jason steps out of the shower and towels himself mostly dry before going back into the bedroom and getting dressed. He places several bills on the dresser, more than twice the going rate for a boy of Orlando's looks. "If I wanted to see you again, where should I look?" he asks.

Orlando glances at the money and then looks at Jason with a genuine smile. "I can give you a number," he says, and in spite of the general oddness of the encounter, he finds himself hoping Jason calls.

-end-