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fellowshippers2002-08-17 03:44 pm
azewewish.livejournal.com) wrote in fellowshippers2002-08-17 03:44 pm
FIC: "Empty" (Fate Part One) KU/OB
A series of ficlets, because this story was begging to be told.
*mwah*
Title: "Empty” 1/1
Series: “Fate” (Part One)
Author: Brenda
Pairing: Orlando Bloom/Karl Urban
Rating: PG
Summary: Orli doesn’t miss Karl.
Website: The Rolling Smut Factory
Archive: Beyond the Fellowship, The Factory.
Feedback: As always, much appreciated.
Disclaimer: Never happened. Cha.
Notes: A challenge fic for C. She knows why.
“But of all of these things above
So alone is the only thing I am”
--Prozzac
Orli hadn’t realized how much he’d missed Karl until he found himself back in L.A., home once again--alone, this time. Precisely what he wanted, what he’d asked for, what he’d craved.
Fuck, it was lonely.
And memories of Karl were everywhere.
In the kitchen, where Karl had taught him to make to chocolate swirl cheesecake, but they’d ended up getting drunk, sucking the mixture off of each other’s fingers and lips until Orli had overdosed on the rich taste. And still craved more.
In the living room, where they’d watched the telly, where Karl had read while Orli had scribbled in his journal--sharing a silence that was almost profound in its simplicity. Orli had never before shared a silence like that--full of untold conversations and warmth, all in small smiles and barely brushing shoulders.
On the private stretch of beach, where Karl had jogged every morning, sometimes dragging Orli along, sometimes not--but Orli had always watched the graceful way Karl moved, long strides eating the sand as he ran. And remembered all of the times Karl had dragged him out surfing--bitching about the pussy waves this side of the Pacific, but laughing the entire time, water glistening on dark hair.
In the bedroom that they’d ended up sharing--at first out of habit, neither of them wanting to sleep alone. And later, because they’d wanted to, because Karl’s warmth kept the nightmares at bay, his soft breath on Orli’s neck comforting. The messiness of the room wasn’t quite as inviting without Karl’s clothes strewn on the floor...and the bed was much too large.
He wasn’t supposed to miss Karl like this. That wasn’t the agreement. Wasn’t supposed to miss the strong arms that held him in his pain, miss the low voice that made him laugh and think, sometimes in the same sentence. Wasn’t supposed to miss the way Karl watched him, a half-smile on his lips, as if just the sight of Orli brought him joy. And he *definitely* wasn’t supposed to miss the way Karl had felt inside him--the heat and fullness he’d been unable to erase from his memory, the sounds they made as they moved together, the feel of rough hands so gentle on his skin, the reverence in Karl’s eyes.
Missing these things would acknowledge something Orli wasn’t ready to deal with. Missing these things would make it real. Orli wasn’t ready for it to be real. Wasn’t sure he’d ever be ready.
So, he never told anyone he only slept on the sofa now. And he never told anyone he knew how to make cheesecake. And he never told anyone that the mom & pop restaurant on the corner he and Karl used to frequent had great fries, but lousy pizza. And he never told anyone that the last thing he did every night, before his restless sleep, was to call Karl, just to say goodnight.
* * *
*mwah*
Title: "Empty” 1/1
Series: “Fate” (Part One)
Author: Brenda
Pairing: Orlando Bloom/Karl Urban
Rating: PG
Summary: Orli doesn’t miss Karl.
Website: The Rolling Smut Factory
Archive: Beyond the Fellowship, The Factory.
Feedback: As always, much appreciated.
Disclaimer: Never happened. Cha.
Notes: A challenge fic for C. She knows why.
“But of all of these things above
So alone is the only thing I am”
--Prozzac
Orli hadn’t realized how much he’d missed Karl until he found himself back in L.A., home once again--alone, this time. Precisely what he wanted, what he’d asked for, what he’d craved.
Fuck, it was lonely.
And memories of Karl were everywhere.
In the kitchen, where Karl had taught him to make to chocolate swirl cheesecake, but they’d ended up getting drunk, sucking the mixture off of each other’s fingers and lips until Orli had overdosed on the rich taste. And still craved more.
In the living room, where they’d watched the telly, where Karl had read while Orli had scribbled in his journal--sharing a silence that was almost profound in its simplicity. Orli had never before shared a silence like that--full of untold conversations and warmth, all in small smiles and barely brushing shoulders.
On the private stretch of beach, where Karl had jogged every morning, sometimes dragging Orli along, sometimes not--but Orli had always watched the graceful way Karl moved, long strides eating the sand as he ran. And remembered all of the times Karl had dragged him out surfing--bitching about the pussy waves this side of the Pacific, but laughing the entire time, water glistening on dark hair.
In the bedroom that they’d ended up sharing--at first out of habit, neither of them wanting to sleep alone. And later, because they’d wanted to, because Karl’s warmth kept the nightmares at bay, his soft breath on Orli’s neck comforting. The messiness of the room wasn’t quite as inviting without Karl’s clothes strewn on the floor...and the bed was much too large.
He wasn’t supposed to miss Karl like this. That wasn’t the agreement. Wasn’t supposed to miss the strong arms that held him in his pain, miss the low voice that made him laugh and think, sometimes in the same sentence. Wasn’t supposed to miss the way Karl watched him, a half-smile on his lips, as if just the sight of Orli brought him joy. And he *definitely* wasn’t supposed to miss the way Karl had felt inside him--the heat and fullness he’d been unable to erase from his memory, the sounds they made as they moved together, the feel of rough hands so gentle on his skin, the reverence in Karl’s eyes.
Missing these things would acknowledge something Orli wasn’t ready to deal with. Missing these things would make it real. Orli wasn’t ready for it to be real. Wasn’t sure he’d ever be ready.
So, he never told anyone he only slept on the sofa now. And he never told anyone he knew how to make cheesecake. And he never told anyone that the mom & pop restaurant on the corner he and Karl used to frequent had great fries, but lousy pizza. And he never told anyone that the last thing he did every night, before his restless sleep, was to call Karl, just to say goodnight.
* * *