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fellowshippers2005-11-28 06:12 pm
cloudlessclimes.livejournal.com) wrote in fellowshippers2005-11-28 06:12 pm
Cleareyed
Title: Cleareyed
Author:![[livejournal.com profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/external/lj-userinfo.gif)
cloudlessclimes
Rated: NC-17
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 and Elijah are at the Toronto International Film Festival.
Notes: Oh. Dear. I had intended this to be light and fluffy, truly I did. But somehow it took a navel gazy, emo left turn. I wrote it fortalesinbloom as a b-day giftie (late as usual). hope it doesn't bring you down, sunshine cuz you know I love you liek woah.
Title comes from my new favourite song, by Glen Phillips.
This is the Horseshoe Tavern
This is the Drake Hotel
This is KLB
This is Apostle of Hustle.
FFF?
K where? when?
12 @ the shoe
WTF?
the horseshoe
"'lo?"
"Elijah, what the fuck are you talking about?" Orlando sighed and rubbed his thumb over the bridge of his nose in a tired, exasperated gesture.
Elijah's voice crackled over the line, "So you got my text? Jesus Christ, Orli! I mean meet me at the Horseshoe Tavern. There's this awesome band playing..."
"Where the devil is that?" Orlando still had no idea what his friend was talking about.
"All right," Orlando was pretty sure the sigh he heard over his mobile phone was as much an exhalation of cigarette smoke as it was frustration at his thick-headedness. "Where are you?"
"The Intercontinental, just finished my last interview...thank God...if I had to smile and hold Kirsten's hand one minute longer..."
"Focus, man, listen to me," Elijah interrupted. "Go out front. Jump in a cab." Elijah paused. "Are you doing it?"
"Yeah, yeah, there's a taxi-cab right here." Elijah heard Orlando's grunt as he folded himself into the back seat. "Thanks, have a good night," Orlando continued, to the doorman, Elijah assumed.
"Now, tell the nice driver man you'd like to go to the Horseshoe Tavern on Queen Street." Elijah paused again. "Say it, man."
Orlando chuckled, "Calm down, bossy britches." And then to the driver said, "I'd like to go to the Horseshoe Tavern on Queen Street, please.
"Kay, you should be here in like, ten minutes. The band's starting their second set, so I'm going inside. Gimme a call when you get here and I'll come out and meet you."
Orlando sat back and let the taxi streak through the dark city streets. The driver was extremely quiet. He'd just nodded when Orlando got in the cab and didn't say another word. It was kind of nice. Within moments he was parked outside the bar. "Uh, do you take credit cards?" He asked somewhat sheepishly, looking at the meter, and then the contents of his wallet (a vaperetto ticket, a receipt for bottled water at the Rome airport and some Euros). At the cabbie's nod, Orlando handed over the plastic and waited.
Smiling, he signed the receipt--giving the turbaned man a large tip--and exited the car. He took out his phone and hit redial, leaning against the glass of the convenience store adjacent to the tavern, glad he'd gotten out of his "interview suit" before he'd headed out. With his hair a loose jumble of inky curls and his rumpled hoodie, worn jeans, and sunglasses Orlando could have been just another in the trendy crowd of the clubgoers around him. He only received a few sidelong glances and double takes from the people sitting on the Horseshoe's patio.
"'Lo? Orli?" There was a cacophony of sound as Elijah answered. Voices and music and static assaulted Orlando's ears.
"Who else?" He said with a smirk.
"Be right out, man." Elijah hung up and Orlando flipped his phone closed, shuffling his weight onto the leg he had bent up into the window's frame.
Across the ambient noise of the crowd an enthusiastic "Hey, man!" rang out and Orlando turned to see Elijah hurtling forward.
"Hey!" Orlando opened his arms and received the smaller man's embrace. He hugged him tight and buried his face in the collar of Elijah's dress shirt. Elijah's laugh rang in Orlando's ears as he breathed in deep and they rocked back and forth, stumbling into the window pane.
"Hey?" Elijah drew back slightly, still in the circle of Orlando's long arms, studying the British man's face. "You all right?"
Orlando hugged him again and Elijah could have sworn a shudder passed through his lean frame. "Yeah, yeah. Just, Jesus. Too long. It's been way too long." Orlando closed his eyes and inhaled deeply.
"Yeah, guess so. Fucking busy, right?" Elijah looked up into Orlando's eyes and smiled, shoving his glasses back up his nose. His blue eyes telegraphed concern as he raised his index finger and traced the deep lines of exhaustion that fanned Orlando's eyes and mouth.
Orlando chuckled, a low, pained sound, deep in his chest. "No rest for the wicked." He clasped Elijah's square hands between both of his own, a look of fond affection tilting up his lips just as quickly as it slid away. "C'mon now, show me this new band of yours that will change my life, yeah?"
"Yeah!" Elijah grinned up at him, and fingers still entwined, lead Orlando through the crowd and into the bar.
As Elijah wound his way through the throng, Orlando's eyes darted around the tavern's interior. It was small and dark and cramped, and smelled of old cigarette smoke and stale beer. The people were an odd mixture of men in business suits, what appeared to Orlando to be bikers, and more of the trendy club goers who filled the sidewalks out on Queen Street. The dingy walls were crammed full of photos in cheap frames. Photographs of musicians and bands Orlando assumed had played there glared down at him. They continued past a pool table and Elijah casually turned his head and said "He's with me," as he tightened his grip around Orlando's wrist and led him through some tatty black curtains.
The ticket girl's eyebrows shot to her hairline, but all she did in reply to Elijah's declaration was nod. The noise was almost deafening. Between the murmurings of the crowd, tightly packed into the back room, and the wall of sound coming from the stage, Orlando was quite convinced he would never fully regain his hearing.
Elijah leaned in close and shouted in his ear, "Wait here! I'll get us some beers!" He gave Orlando's waist a comforting squeeze and then melted into the crowd. Orlando leaned against a pillar and focused on the stage.
He'd never seen that many people on such a small stage before. There must have been about a dozen people up there. Aside from the usual bass, drums, guitar, and keyboard there were about 10 people playing various forms of percussion; from cow bells to the very walls of the buildings themselves. And, most amazingly of all, a woman--dressed in a flamenco skirt--was tapping out a rhythm on a piece of plywood as she danced supplying the majority of the sound in the song. And...it was good. Really really good. Trust Lijah to find something this weird and this good.
"Tah dah!" Elijah announced as he pressed a cold bottle into Orlando's hand. "Missed you, man." He flung an arm around Orlando's neck and pulled him in close as he took a swig from his own bottle, mysteriously entitled Moosehead. "Aren't they fucking awesome?" Elijah made a broad gesture towards the stage, beer bottle still in his hand.
"Yeah." Orlando replied, not actually looking at the stage. Instead, his eyes--flecked with gold in the muddy club lighting--studied Elijah's face from the safety of shuttered, feather-thick lashes. "Awesome," he smiled and looked down at the beer bottle in his hand. "KLB Raspberry Wheat?" He took an inquisitive swig and continued to study the label. "Eight percent alcohol? Jesus Lij, what're you trying to do to me?"
Elijah leaned a hip against the pillar, and said with amusement dancing in his voice, "Get you legless and have my way with ya?" before giving Orlando's shoulder a convivial punch.
"You don't need alcohol for that!" Orlando snorted and tried to match Elijah's light tone. He covered Elijah's fist--knuckles still pressing into a cotton covered shoulder--with his broad palm, before tracing a finger lightly across the back of the compact, bunched hand. He watched Elijah's face as Elijah watched the agonizingly slow path his finger traced, until Orlando's fingers slipped to bracelet the lumpy bones of a wide wrist. His fingers circled the vulnerable, blue veined skin, but didn't quite touch it.
"Oh," was all the sound Elijah could force from his lungs.
Orlando hated this awkward, halting re-acquaintance; cycled through like some quirky, personal take on Groundhog Day. Why was it they could talk for hours on the phone like neither had passed a single day without the other? But, put together, in person, there was too much of this. Too much time spent shifting and changing and accommodating and getting used to. Orlando was grateful for the noise and crowd. He didn't feel the need to fill up the seconds with banalities about the weather and work, and he didn't have to listen to Elijah do the same.
Elijah looked up into Orlando's clouded expression, and he seemed to understand. "Oh," he said again. Elijah leaned forward and up, bringing the smooth expanse of his forehead into contact with Orlando's. "Fuck," he murmured. "I really wanna kiss you, man."
"I know," Orlando nuzzled into the touch of Elijah's skin. "But...we can't," his voice was little more than the breathy movement of his lips against the blood warmed skin of Elijah's cheek. "Not here."
Elijah wriggled out of the embrace and sprawled against the nearby pillar. "Fuck, we should..." he took a deep swallow from his bottle, studying Orlando with over-bright eyes. "Do you wanna, like leave? We could go...or something." Elijah squeezed at the back of his own neck.
"Yeah. Yes." Orlando finished the last of his beer in a long, undulating gulp. Setting the empty down on a low cocktail table, Orlando turned and strode through the musty curtains and out of the bar.
He didn't slow down, didn't stop or look back. He just let his long legs carry him through the crowd and out to the street. He knew Elijah was behind him, he didn't have to look. Once on the sidewalk he breathed in great lungfuls of early autumn air, trying to quell the white noise of nervous anticipation jangling though his system.
"Hey," Elijah's voice was soft, and his arm was warm at Orlando's waist.
"Hey," Orlando lifted his sunglasses and smiled into Elijah's eyes.
"C'mon." Elijah again led Orlando by the hand, and Orlando again followed the shorter man with only a slight quirk of his eyebrow.
They walked together around the block from the club, into an alleyway. Clutching and weaving like punch drunk prize fighters, Elijah and Orlando wound themselves together in a flurry of hands and hungry mouths. Elijah growled deep in the back of his throat as he shoved Orlando against the brickwork. His lips swiped across the soft skin of Orlando's mouth and then over and across his cheeks. His tongue darted flicks of taste over the slight rasp of stubble there. Orlando's hands stroked at Elijah's waist, fingers digging hard into the stripe of skin exposed in their urgency.
Chest heaving, Elijah managed to drag his mouth away from Orlando's, his forehead against the taller man's chin. "Hey man." He huffed, a smile barely concealed in his rough tone.
"Missed you, missed this, so fucking much." Orlando sighed against the slippery tufts of Elijah's hair. His hands slid to knead the rounded curve of Elijah's arse. "Mmmm, velvet," he mumbled, stroking the soft fabric as Elijah again raised himself onto his toes and sought the wide expanse of Orlando's mouth.
Hands grappled and stroked, drawn in a desperate effort to reacquaint themselves with the familiar geography of flesh and bone. Orlando drew Elijah to him, angling his hips and rubbing into the eager warmth of the other man's groin. Elijah's lips suckled at the taught slope of Orlando's neck, laving the honeyed skin with his tongue. As the the friction between them increased, and they rubbed in amped-up anticipation at their confined cocks, Elijah replaced his lips with his teeth, his moan echoed Orlando's pain-tinged groan as blood swelled under golden skin.
The realization of what he was doing caused Elijah to jerk back suddenly. "Shit, sorry man, sorry." He swiped at his mouth and Orlando looked down at him with heavy-lidded, lust dazed eyes.
"What? Why?" Orlando slow-motion lifted his right hand to carefully brush a finger across the rapidly reddening bruise just above his collar bone.
"Fuckin' hickey, man. Don't you have press tomorrow?"
"Oh, yeah. Doesn't matter. Bastards make shit up about me all the time. They probably won't know what to do with something...real." Orlando shook his head dismissively and extended an arm to reel Elijah back into him. "I want you to...to mark me." He whispered thickly, sliding long slim fingers first along the pale slip of skin just above the waist band of Elijah's pants, and then below.
"Mmm..." Elijah purred into the soft flesh of Orlando's neck before he again sucked and bit and licked, leaving soft stains of purple-red in the wake of his ministrations. He felt Orlando's fingers dig into him and move them even closer together. They began an aroused counterpoint, rubbing and stroking across hips and thighs and groins. But beyond that, beneath it, Elijah felt a low rumbling tremble in Orlando, and it worried him. "All right?" he asked roughly.
"Yeah, yeah," Elijah felt the words as soft kisses pressed to his temple. Orlando swallowed hard and the trembling twitched through the Brit's fingers and into Elijah's skin.
Elijah wound his arms tighter across Orlando's shoulders. "Hey," he whispered and pressed a gentle kiss just below Orlando's right eyebrow.
Eyes made the colour of cognac in the dimly lit alley blinked open and stared into Elijah's earnest face. "What's that for?" He swallowed hard again and tried to smile.
"For you. For us." The corners of Elijah's chapped lips titled up as he spoke. "Everyone thinks they know you, can have a piece of you," he dragged a scraggly-nailed finger gently across the same patch of skin on Orlando's eyelid. "But these freckles? These two freckles, right here?" The shorter man gently pressed into the skin beneath his finger tip, "They're mine."
Orlando made an unintelligible noise somewhere between a sob and a groan. Unable to take his eyes away from the frank blue stare, he cradled Elijah's face in his hands, thumbs stroking across cheeks and just under the frames of Elijah's glasses, then he lowered his head. He kissed Elijah with the utmost tenderness and Elijah finally felt the lean muscle beneath Orlando's sweatshirt flatten under his palms; felt the lanky man's soul-deep tremble relax into stillness. Gentle tongues explored the darkness of each others mouths as the only sound beyond road traffic and the murmur of pedestrians passing round the corner was their mingled, harsh breath.
"C'mon," Elijah finally lifted his mouth from Orlando's, "let's go." He peeled himself from Orlando's clinging embrace, keeping an arm around his narrow waist and steering the two of them toward the street. He raised his free hand and a taxi pulled up to the curb.
"Drake Hotel." Elijah responded when asked their destination.
Orlando turned to look at him, eyebrows raised in surprise (surprise). "You're staying there?"
"Yeah, a lot less bullshit." A small frown creased Elijah's forehead as he noticed Orlando pulling away from him. He watched as Orlando's eyes darted glances from the cab driver to where Elijah's palm rested against the age worn denim covering his hip.
"Right. Suppose so." Orlando sat on his hands.
Elijah withdrew his hand and immediately began worrying at the cuticle of his index finger with his teeth. That tremor, that thrum of worry or fear or something else Elijah couldn't quite name or place was back just under the surface of Orlando's placid features. Hard won intimacy had evaporated the moment they ceased to be alone.
"So," Orlando began conversationally, after a few seconds' pained silence, "how's Pam?"
Elijah turned from him to stare out into the night, suddenly having developed a keen interest in the waves of neon shop signs as they passed. He shrugged in a non-committal, avoiding way.
"Oh, um," Orlando cleared his throat and winced at the awkward space that had blossomed between them in the confines of the cab. "Well, uh, where's Pam?" he finally asked.
Elijah again shrugged, still focusing on the world outside the car's closed window, "New York, I guess," he wrapped one arm around himself while he raised the other, chewing at the cuticle of his thumb. "So, how's Kate?" he asked in a clipped, sneering tone.
Orlando sat up straight, and stared at his fingers, loosely linked in his lap. "Oh, Elijah, let's not start. Not here, not now. We have so little time..." His voice was gentle with regret and admonishment. He extended one hand to palm the round of one velvet-clad knee. Elijah's eyes, cold and forlorn in the greywash of the cab, flickered from Orlando's stroking fingers to the wary planes of his friend's face.
Elijah unfolded himself from his scrunched up crouch at the far side of the cab. His blunt-tipped fingers covered Orlando's, as they met and held each other's gaze. His fingers stroked along the elegant lengths of the fingers tangled with his own. He leaned over, and with his other hand began to stroke along the smooth denim expanse of Orlando's thigh.
He could hear Orlando's breathing, harsh through his nose, and he watched as the taller man
leaned in close, contact searing to life where their thighs pushed against one another, despite two layers of material. Orlando swallowed hard and managed to drag his eyes away for a brief second, darting a nervous glance at the cab driver, who was focused on wending his way through the busy traffic.
The hand on Orlando's thigh slowly edged higher, stroking and rubbing in circles until Elijah stopped at the crease of jean covered groin. Orlando's hand stayed on Elijah's knee, not pressing or stroking-- just a feather light presence. He bit his lip and leaned his head back, eyes closed. Elijah started to stroke at the ridge of Orlando's cock, straining at the confines of ancient denim. Elijah shifted slightly, moving forward, and using his thumb, popped open the brass fasteners on Orlando's fly. Orlando flexed under the rasping of Elijah's finger tips--curls pressed back into the padding of the seat--and dug his boot heels into the floorboards of the Buick Regal.
Elijah reached into the warm confines of Orlando's boxers and began to stroke along the rigid length he sought. He curled a loose fist and used a slow, steady motion to build a friction of fingers and foreskin, as Orlando levered and strained to meet him. He brushed his broad thumb across Orlando's leaking slit and was rewarded with a gentle hiss, not much louder than the sound of traffic outside. Orlando relaxed and thrust into Elijah's rhythm, eyes still closed but his lashes fluttering against the high sweep of his cheeks.
"Drake Hotel," the cab driver announced.
Elijah thumped his head into the curve of Orlando's neck, snatching back his hand as though he'd been burned, and crossing his arms in front of him. Orlando sat bolt upright and an embarrassed flush deepened his already coloured cheeks. He coughed and attempted to discreetly adjust himself and do up the buttons on his fly.
Fumbling his wallet out of his back pocket, Elijah thrust a wad of bills at the cabbie, not making eye contact, and beat a hasty retreat from the car. Orlando loped up beside him just as Elijah was snaking though yet another throng of club goers and wondered to himself exactly how staying here involved "less bullshit."
Again letting himself be guided by the gentle pressure of sure, strong fingers at his elbow, Orlando entered the Drake Hotel and suddenly understood. The hotel and the club were quite separate, in the rabbit warren complex. The concierge nodded and smiled at Elijah in the calm sleek quiet of the small hotel lobby. Elijah politely returned the smile, and then took to the gleaming metallic stair case. "There're only nineteen rooms here." Elijah looked up at Orlando as they ascended to the third floor and he took an honest to God room key from his pocket.
"Oh, I see." Was all Orlando could think of to say. His thoughts were back in the taxi and what had, or had almost, happened there.
"Do ya?" Elijah raised his eyebrows mischievously before giving the door a shove inward and hooking his arm through Orlando's. The door slammed shut and Elijah slammed Orlando's against the smooth wooden surface. One hand bunched and rucked up the soft gray sweatshirt while the other wound in the thick mass of Orlando's dark curls,lowering the broad mouth to his own.
Teeth and tongues searched out the soft secret darkness of mouths and Elijah nudged Orlando's thighs wide, rubbing his knee into Orlando's straining groin. He tore himself away from the deep hunger of the kiss to push Orlando's shirt off over his head, and then pinching and stroking at the obdurate rise of copper nipples. Elijah groaned in aroused satisfaction when he again reached for Orlando's hap-hazzardly fastened fly, making the darker man stutter out an equally aroused moan.
"Lij. Lijah," Orlando slowly raised his arms to create space between them. With deft and practiced movements he began to undo the buttons on Elijah's chambray shirt, one at a time. He took a reflexive gulp of air, stilling an eager Elijah in his grasp. " Waitwaitwait...I need...I just..." He swore under his breath and shoved an unsteady hand though the tangle of his hair, then nudged past a somewhat nonplussed Elijah.
"Sorry Lij, I'm just...tired." Orlando sat down heavily on the bed, knuckling at his eyes, before toeing off his boots.
Elijah stood appraising, his hands on his hips. "You're not just tired. There's something else...c'mon man...talk to me."
"I just, I dunno," Orlando leaned over, staring at the grain in the hardwood floor. "What if it's a flop?" he said in a small voice, toying with the silver ring around his thumb.
"Are you kidding me?" Elijah moved closer to the seated man, stopping in the vee of Orlando's spread legs. "You're not carrying this film, man. And as for the rest; fuck 'em." He wound curls of soft dark hair around his fingers. Orlando responded silently, leaning in and rubbing his cheek on the triangle of exposed, pale skin where the unfastened buttons of Elijah's shirt had parted.
Orlando sighed and snorted, continuing to rub back and forth as he spoke in low, pained tones. "I know I guess. It's just I've never managed to let anything matter this much to me. That it be good. That I be good. I worked so bloody hard, and it's Cameron...I guess, I just...I look at you and you've done such interesting, such cool things..."
Elijah laughed outright and tightened his grip on Orlando's silken curls, forcing the seated man to look up into concerned blue eyes. "Yeah, but I've been doing this for three quarters of my fuckin' life and I seem to remember something about Elijah Wood: Mr. Direct to DVD 1999..."
"Maybe I should just stick to movies based on theme park rides. There's got to be loads of them, yeah?" A mocking smile twisted Orlando's broad mouth as he moved backwards on the bed, elbows supporting his weight. "Or maybe I could, you know, work reception or something at your brilliant new record company, or whatever..."
Elijah shoved at Orlando's shoulders, sending him sprawling over the bed. "Would you cut out all this self-pitying bullshit? Jesus," he muttered, then gave a snap of his wrists and tugged Orlando's jeans down and off in one fluid motion. He climbed onto the bed and pinioned Orlando in place with his hips.
"I just," Orlando's wide-palmed hands bracketed Elijah's waist and his fingers stroked over the exposed skin at the younger man's abdomen. "I just feel all at sixes and sevens, you know? Like I have nothing to hold on to." He sighed as Elijah grasped the lumpy bones of his wrists in strong hands--thumbs skittering over the leather cuffs--and stretched his arms back over his head.
Elijah leaned down, his face close enough to Orlando's his eyelashes fluttered against the high flair of cheekbones. "Then hold on to me," he whispered, before lowering his mouth.
Orlando growled and yanked Elijah forward, thrusting his tongue past pink lips to suck and bite at the inside of Elijah's mouth; bucking his hips up to meet the eager twist of the man on top of him. He roughly rucked down the open sides of Elijah's shirt until his hands were bunching and rubbing at the soft pale skin of the shorter man's chest. Elijah could feel each finger digging into him, and after shaking his shirt off his wrists, he again wound his hands in Orlando's dark curls, forcing the other man up to meet him. He groaned down Orlando's throat at the feel of a calloused fingertip brushing roughly over tender flesh at the inside of his elbow.
This wasn't how Elijah had planned it. It wasn't what Elijah had thought Orlando needed. He'd meant to take things gentle and slow, re-establishing the connection that had been banked in their time apart. He wanted to bring the skittish Brit back to the person he was underneath all the tentative glances and hesitant touches. But Orlando had his own ideas about what he needed. Elijah paused briefly, untying his boots and leaving them at the bedside where they and his socks fell with a thud. He kept one hand petting and soothing Orlando while he used the other to remove his glasses, fold them and place them on the night stand.
Elijah slithered down the long golden body, pressing open-mouthed kisses to the soft expanse of Orlando's skin. He nipped and circled at Orlando's navel, dipping his tongue in to swirl and lick. Orlando broke out into a fine sweat when Elijah moved lower, mouthing and biting at Orlando's tumescent cock though the confines of cotton. Orlando was shaking and breathing through his nose, fingers scrabbling where they rested against the freshly painted brick wall. Elijah gently pulled Orlando's boxers down low. Hips involuntarily rose from the bed at the first touch of cold air and warm breath and rough fingers mingling together between Orlando's legs. Elijah sighed contentedly as he nuzzled at the dark nest of curls and lapped at the red and straining length of Orlando's erection.
Except for the stuttering rise and fall of his chest and the occasional lust induced twist and twitch, Orlando remained still under Elijah's careful exploration. His hands clenched--fingernails digging half moons into his palms--when he felt the wet stroke of Elijah's tongue slick across his sac, and then the slightest scrape of teeth as he was sucked into a perfect lush mouth. Elijah nosed at the space behind Orlando's balls, breathing in the musky dark scent.
"Lijah. Can we...I need..." Orlando struggled to sit up, despite the brushfire bright need sparking down his spine to pool in his groin.
A wolfish grin played across Elijah's sweetly pointed features as he looked up at Orlando, across the expanse of smooth muscle and skin. "Wanna skip the prelude and get strait to the fucking, do ya?" He licked lazily at the stripe of hair between Orlando's navel and pubic bone.
Orlando swiped a hand across his face and smirked, secretly amused that Elijah knew him so well. "Yeah. Yeah." He nodded emphatically and gave Elijah his best lopsided grin.
"'Kay," Elijah hauled himself up into a sitting position, patting Orlando's knee. "Just lemme go to the bathroom a sec and get...stuff." He yawned and stood, absently scratching at his sternum.
"God, look at you," Elijah sighed around a barely contained leer.
Tilting his chin and straining to look down his own prone form, Orlando asked, "Why, what's wrong with me?" sounding mildly self-conscious.
"Fucking nothing!" Elijah snorted. "You're, like, fucking cut man." He cast another long appreciative glance at Orlando's sprawled, naked body. His eyes lingered along the play of lean muscle across bone and the seemingly endless expanse of perfect skin. "Remember when we first...got together...back in New Zealand? You were so fucking skinny I thought you'd cut me!" Elijah couldn't resist reaching over and swiping his palm along the rounded gunwales of Orlando's ribs.
A feather pillow flew through the air, glancing Elijah's temple and falling to the floor. "Fuck off and get what you need to get!" Orlando tried to sound perturbed but he couldn't quell the pleased and flattered feelings Elijah's words conjured.
"Yes master! Who's bossy britches now? You know, if you were actually wearing britches!" Elijah giggled and did a slow motion run to the bathroom. He emerged a few seconds later, a smile still on his face and a brown bottle in his hands.
"This place supplies lube?" Orlando eyed the bottle suspiciously.
Shrugging his shoulders, Elijah replied, "Nah! It's..." he pressed the bottle close to his face, reading in a myopic squint, "Rose water and glycerin. So now your ass really will smell like roses."
Orlando laughed, brown eyes shining. "It'll do, smart arse," and snatched out a long arm, yanking Elijah back down on top of him.
"Wait a minute, man." Elijah sat back up on his haunches, setting the bottle down while he snicked open his zipper.
"Don't. Leave them on."
"Huh?"
"Your trousers." Orlando coughed nervously. "Could you, like, leave them on? I like how they...how the velvet, how it feels against my skin, yeah?" His eyes fluttered closed and he gnawed nervously at his bottom lip.
Elijah paused a moment, hand suspended at his waist. "Um, sure, I guess. Kinky bastard." He finally answered. "Although I'm not really sure how..."
Orlando's deft motions and encouraging gestures shuffled Elijah up the big bed, resting his back against the headboard. With a "C'mere, yeah?" he lifted Elijah's hips just enough to ruck the soft fabric of his trousers and underwear beneath the rounded curve of his ass. Elijah winced slightly as his cock sprang free and bobbed against the concavity of his hip.
"Like this," Orlando whispered before taking the fleshy lobe of Elijah's right ear into his mouth. He straddled Elijah's hips, brushing the thick blunt weight of Elijah's cock between the cheeks of his ass.
Elijah made a low,obscene noise as he jumped a little, startled at the dark heat of Orlando's body against his sensitive flesh. "Uh," Elijah pulled at Orlando's broad shoulders and forced apart Orlando's lips to stroke his tongue forcefully inside. "Uh huh. Yeah," Elijah's eyes fluttered shut and Orlando brushed fleeting breathy kisses across his lids and brows.
Leaning over, Orlando retrieved the bottle, thumbing off the cap and spilling a small puddle of the thick liquid into his cupped palm. He hazzarded a quick sniff and wrinkled his nose at the vaguely floral scent. Elijah slid his hands from their grip on Orlando's shoulders, along his back to stroke the downy hairs at the base of his spine. Orlando's movements caused Elijah's cock to bump and press further between Orlando's ass cheeks, a teasing touch to his hole.
Orlando bit his lip, swallowing a gasp, and took Elijah's hand into his own. Smearing some of the liquid over Elijah's fingers, he kissed a knuckle and then directed Elijah's hand behind him, over the curve of his ass, and between his cheeks. Elijah slurped against Orlando's neck, breathing hard as his fingers slid into the tightness of Orlando's body. Orlando flung an arm out, fingers starfish-wide against the white sheets, balancing himself against what Elijah was doing to him. "Need more," Orlando inclined his head towards the opaque brown bottle. "Been a long time," he gasped by way of explanation.
The rose water spilled in fat drops onto the mess of sheets and blankets, as Elijah eagerly filled his cupped palm. He rested his forehead against Orlando's shoulder while biting at his collar bone. His fingers slid inside Orlando's hot, eager body and he began to stroke with increasing urgency. God, he'd missed this: this feeling, this closeness.
The eager way Orlando opened and closed for him, just for him.
Orlando's coated his calloused, work-rough fingers in the viscous liquid, then lightly grasped Elijah's thick and bobbing cock, smearing it slick. " 'm, ready now, Lij." Orlando murmured into the hair at Elijah's temple, his breath spilling out hot shivers along the rose-blushed paleness of cheek and neck. Orlando rose to his knees, taking Elijah's cock in hand, fingers circling at the base of the shaft.
Gripping the smooth muscle of each buttock, Elijah spread Orlando wide. With one steadying hand on the mattress, Orlando impaled himself on Elijah's eager length. They gasped at the sudden rush of intimate contact. Elijah laughed a little, then slid his hands to Orlando's narrow hips, grasping and steadying him. Orlando blew out innumerable breaths, eyes clenched tightly closed. Then, he sighed, relaxing into a kind of liquid bonelessness. Elijah could feel the tight ring of muscle slacken, accepting him. There was a sense of smoothed, sliding heat. Orlando reached behind him, hands grasping and kneading at Elijah's velvet covered knees. He began a slow, heaving pivot; up and down and up and down.
Elijah murmured nonsense words and enthusiastic encouragement into every single inch of amber hued skin he could reach with tongue and lips and teeth. Orlando arched his neck, head tilting backwards at the intensity of feeling; inside and out. Elijah began to rock his hips, meeting Orlando's every thrust, and the dark eyed man swore he could feel Elijah's cock pounding into his navel. He gasped and swore and rode Elijah, the slapping of sweat smeared thighs mingling with their voices and breath.
As he pounded down onto Elijah's rock hard length and Elijah stroked hard up into him, Orlando's cock slipped and bumped between Elijah's hip and navel. Letting go of his bruise-blooming grasp on Orlando's hip, Elijah reached between them to stroke and pull and tease. Orlando's slit leaked precome over Elijah's skin and he could tell by the way the other man was breathing hard out of his nose that Orlando was perilously close to coming. "S'okay." Elijah whispered hoarsely, swiping an awkward kiss over Orlando's slack mouth. "C'mon man," as Orlando bounced and bobbled in his lap, impaling himself on Elijah's cock, Elijah pressed and squeezed Orlando's own length.
Orlando gave an inarticulate shout and a stream of silver-warm come spurted through Elijah's fingers and across his hip and belly. He slumped against Elijah's shoulder and gave in, letting Elijah thrust into him, cock bumping continually over the bundle of nerves deep inside. Elijah released Orlando's dick from his fingers. He brought his hand to his mouth and sucked eagerly at the sticky slip of Orlando's come, before jamming his fingers, knuckle deep into the other man's mouth. Orlando felt the hinges of his jaws ache under the strain as Elijah pressed forward.
Tasting himself on Elijah's fingers, Orlando curled forward, spine a rounded arch as blue eyes met brown, sharing a secret, dirty smile. They kissed then, all sloppy tongues and too much teeth. The fluid ease of the rhythm Orlando had originally set had been abandoned as Elijah rocked his hips in ever increasing, urgent thrusts. He felt Orlando's muscles clench him tight and hot and slick and he was ready. He gave into the electric thrum as his orgasm vibrated down his nervous system and into his groin. Orlando sighed in satisfaction at Elijah's cursing, and the feel of the orgasm pulsing deep into his hole.
They collapsed against each other, gasping and trembling as aftershocks rocked them. Orlando could feel Elijah's heart beat thunder-loud against his ear and cheek. He shifted uncomfortably, and Elijah gently lifted him from his lap and off his cock before they tumbled together in a tangle of sheets and limbs.
"Fuck." Elijah scratched at his balls and ran a hand across the silver streaked remains of Orlando's orgasm. He laughed and kissed Orlando awkwardly on the jaw.
Orlando said nothing, instead fussing with the blankets and smoothing the sheets. "Is this what we are, now? Is this all we are?" Orlando spoke softly into the darkness. He could feel the slight susurration of Elijah's breath against his temple.
"What?"
"Just, you know, a Film Festival Fuck?" there was pain behind the joking tone.
"No, Orli. No." Elijah sat up and shook Orlando's shoulders a little. "It's more than that. So much more. You know that. We've always known...But this his how things have to be. For now. Uncomplicated..." he trailed off.
In the dark, Orlando found Elijah's hands and stilled them from their nervous, concerned petting of his hair and cheek. "It isn't how it has to be." Orlando sat up and drew his knees to his chest under the light sheet.
"Orlando," Elijah spoke in a low warning tone. "Don't make me choose, man. You know it's a decision I won't make."
Orlando chuckled and rested his head on the hillock of his knees. "I know, I know. But, you do realize choosing not to choose is itself a choice?"
"Fuck!" Elijah's voice was sharp in the quiet of the room. "Don't start this pseudo-Buddhist bullshit. When the fuck did you become Yoda anyway? The day you wear an I take it up the ass t-shirt on Oprah is the day I book my interview with The Advocate" Elijah was angry; angry at his situation, angry at being put in this position over and over again, angry at himself. He blew out a breath and steadied himself, "Sorry, I'm sorry. I guess I'm just..."
"Tired?" Orlando--the sad smile audible in his voice-- reached out and threaded his fingers through the softness of Elijah's hair, sliding to the taught muscle of his neck, and gently pulled. He kissed Elijah's temple with gentle understanding and said, "Then maybe you should sleep." And he unfolded his lanky frame, one strong arm guiding Elijah, tight at his side, back and down onto the mattress.
"Yeah," Elijah managed to chuckle and his anger evaporated at the silken touch of Orlando's skin against his, from shoulder to knee. "You too," he sighed into the pillow, turning his head and mouthing at Orlando's jaw.
"Gotta leave early tomorrow," Orlando mumbled in to the pale flesh of Elijah's shoulder as he pulled the other man's compact frame onto his chest.
"Stay. Sleep." Elijah said simply. "I'll wake you in plenty of time to get back and pack."
Orlando's slow, even breathing betrayed his earlier half-hearted protest. Elijah kissed him soundly on the mouth, slipping his arms around the lean firmness of Orlando's chest, holding his sleeping form.
There were so many things Elijah wanted to tell Orlando. So many things he couldn't say. Instead he held Orlando tight, wanting nothing more than to keep him with him while he could. Making sure Orlando felt safe, protected, loved. In the dark, in the city that could have been any one of a thousand, he chose to believe that Orlando didn't need the words, that he already knew. And Elijah had almost convinced himself that was almost enough.
Author:
cloudlessclimes Rated: NC-17
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 and Elijah are at the Toronto International Film Festival.
Notes: Oh. Dear. I had intended this to be light and fluffy, truly I did. But somehow it took a navel gazy, emo left turn. I wrote it for
talesinbloom as a b-day giftie (late as usual). hope it doesn't bring you down, sunshine cuz you know I love you liek woah.Title comes from my new favourite song, by Glen Phillips.
This is the Horseshoe Tavern
This is the Drake Hotel
This is KLB
This is Apostle of Hustle.
FFF?
K where? when?
12 @ the shoe
WTF?
the horseshoe
"'lo?"
"Elijah, what the fuck are you talking about?" Orlando sighed and rubbed his thumb over the bridge of his nose in a tired, exasperated gesture.
Elijah's voice crackled over the line, "So you got my text? Jesus Christ, Orli! I mean meet me at the Horseshoe Tavern. There's this awesome band playing..."
"Where the devil is that?" Orlando still had no idea what his friend was talking about.
"All right," Orlando was pretty sure the sigh he heard over his mobile phone was as much an exhalation of cigarette smoke as it was frustration at his thick-headedness. "Where are you?"
"The Intercontinental, just finished my last interview...thank God...if I had to smile and hold Kirsten's hand one minute longer..."
"Focus, man, listen to me," Elijah interrupted. "Go out front. Jump in a cab." Elijah paused. "Are you doing it?"
"Yeah, yeah, there's a taxi-cab right here." Elijah heard Orlando's grunt as he folded himself into the back seat. "Thanks, have a good night," Orlando continued, to the doorman, Elijah assumed.
"Now, tell the nice driver man you'd like to go to the Horseshoe Tavern on Queen Street." Elijah paused again. "Say it, man."
Orlando chuckled, "Calm down, bossy britches." And then to the driver said, "I'd like to go to the Horseshoe Tavern on Queen Street, please.
"Kay, you should be here in like, ten minutes. The band's starting their second set, so I'm going inside. Gimme a call when you get here and I'll come out and meet you."
Orlando sat back and let the taxi streak through the dark city streets. The driver was extremely quiet. He'd just nodded when Orlando got in the cab and didn't say another word. It was kind of nice. Within moments he was parked outside the bar. "Uh, do you take credit cards?" He asked somewhat sheepishly, looking at the meter, and then the contents of his wallet (a vaperetto ticket, a receipt for bottled water at the Rome airport and some Euros). At the cabbie's nod, Orlando handed over the plastic and waited.
Smiling, he signed the receipt--giving the turbaned man a large tip--and exited the car. He took out his phone and hit redial, leaning against the glass of the convenience store adjacent to the tavern, glad he'd gotten out of his "interview suit" before he'd headed out. With his hair a loose jumble of inky curls and his rumpled hoodie, worn jeans, and sunglasses Orlando could have been just another in the trendy crowd of the clubgoers around him. He only received a few sidelong glances and double takes from the people sitting on the Horseshoe's patio.
"'Lo? Orli?" There was a cacophony of sound as Elijah answered. Voices and music and static assaulted Orlando's ears.
"Who else?" He said with a smirk.
"Be right out, man." Elijah hung up and Orlando flipped his phone closed, shuffling his weight onto the leg he had bent up into the window's frame.
Across the ambient noise of the crowd an enthusiastic "Hey, man!" rang out and Orlando turned to see Elijah hurtling forward.
"Hey!" Orlando opened his arms and received the smaller man's embrace. He hugged him tight and buried his face in the collar of Elijah's dress shirt. Elijah's laugh rang in Orlando's ears as he breathed in deep and they rocked back and forth, stumbling into the window pane.
"Hey?" Elijah drew back slightly, still in the circle of Orlando's long arms, studying the British man's face. "You all right?"
Orlando hugged him again and Elijah could have sworn a shudder passed through his lean frame. "Yeah, yeah. Just, Jesus. Too long. It's been way too long." Orlando closed his eyes and inhaled deeply.
"Yeah, guess so. Fucking busy, right?" Elijah looked up into Orlando's eyes and smiled, shoving his glasses back up his nose. His blue eyes telegraphed concern as he raised his index finger and traced the deep lines of exhaustion that fanned Orlando's eyes and mouth.
Orlando chuckled, a low, pained sound, deep in his chest. "No rest for the wicked." He clasped Elijah's square hands between both of his own, a look of fond affection tilting up his lips just as quickly as it slid away. "C'mon now, show me this new band of yours that will change my life, yeah?"
"Yeah!" Elijah grinned up at him, and fingers still entwined, lead Orlando through the crowd and into the bar.
As Elijah wound his way through the throng, Orlando's eyes darted around the tavern's interior. It was small and dark and cramped, and smelled of old cigarette smoke and stale beer. The people were an odd mixture of men in business suits, what appeared to Orlando to be bikers, and more of the trendy club goers who filled the sidewalks out on Queen Street. The dingy walls were crammed full of photos in cheap frames. Photographs of musicians and bands Orlando assumed had played there glared down at him. They continued past a pool table and Elijah casually turned his head and said "He's with me," as he tightened his grip around Orlando's wrist and led him through some tatty black curtains.
The ticket girl's eyebrows shot to her hairline, but all she did in reply to Elijah's declaration was nod. The noise was almost deafening. Between the murmurings of the crowd, tightly packed into the back room, and the wall of sound coming from the stage, Orlando was quite convinced he would never fully regain his hearing.
Elijah leaned in close and shouted in his ear, "Wait here! I'll get us some beers!" He gave Orlando's waist a comforting squeeze and then melted into the crowd. Orlando leaned against a pillar and focused on the stage.
He'd never seen that many people on such a small stage before. There must have been about a dozen people up there. Aside from the usual bass, drums, guitar, and keyboard there were about 10 people playing various forms of percussion; from cow bells to the very walls of the buildings themselves. And, most amazingly of all, a woman--dressed in a flamenco skirt--was tapping out a rhythm on a piece of plywood as she danced supplying the majority of the sound in the song. And...it was good. Really really good. Trust Lijah to find something this weird and this good.
"Tah dah!" Elijah announced as he pressed a cold bottle into Orlando's hand. "Missed you, man." He flung an arm around Orlando's neck and pulled him in close as he took a swig from his own bottle, mysteriously entitled Moosehead. "Aren't they fucking awesome?" Elijah made a broad gesture towards the stage, beer bottle still in his hand.
"Yeah." Orlando replied, not actually looking at the stage. Instead, his eyes--flecked with gold in the muddy club lighting--studied Elijah's face from the safety of shuttered, feather-thick lashes. "Awesome," he smiled and looked down at the beer bottle in his hand. "KLB Raspberry Wheat?" He took an inquisitive swig and continued to study the label. "Eight percent alcohol? Jesus Lij, what're you trying to do to me?"
Elijah leaned a hip against the pillar, and said with amusement dancing in his voice, "Get you legless and have my way with ya?" before giving Orlando's shoulder a convivial punch.
"You don't need alcohol for that!" Orlando snorted and tried to match Elijah's light tone. He covered Elijah's fist--knuckles still pressing into a cotton covered shoulder--with his broad palm, before tracing a finger lightly across the back of the compact, bunched hand. He watched Elijah's face as Elijah watched the agonizingly slow path his finger traced, until Orlando's fingers slipped to bracelet the lumpy bones of a wide wrist. His fingers circled the vulnerable, blue veined skin, but didn't quite touch it.
"Oh," was all the sound Elijah could force from his lungs.
Orlando hated this awkward, halting re-acquaintance; cycled through like some quirky, personal take on Groundhog Day. Why was it they could talk for hours on the phone like neither had passed a single day without the other? But, put together, in person, there was too much of this. Too much time spent shifting and changing and accommodating and getting used to. Orlando was grateful for the noise and crowd. He didn't feel the need to fill up the seconds with banalities about the weather and work, and he didn't have to listen to Elijah do the same.
Elijah looked up into Orlando's clouded expression, and he seemed to understand. "Oh," he said again. Elijah leaned forward and up, bringing the smooth expanse of his forehead into contact with Orlando's. "Fuck," he murmured. "I really wanna kiss you, man."
"I know," Orlando nuzzled into the touch of Elijah's skin. "But...we can't," his voice was little more than the breathy movement of his lips against the blood warmed skin of Elijah's cheek. "Not here."
Elijah wriggled out of the embrace and sprawled against the nearby pillar. "Fuck, we should..." he took a deep swallow from his bottle, studying Orlando with over-bright eyes. "Do you wanna, like leave? We could go...or something." Elijah squeezed at the back of his own neck.
"Yeah. Yes." Orlando finished the last of his beer in a long, undulating gulp. Setting the empty down on a low cocktail table, Orlando turned and strode through the musty curtains and out of the bar.
He didn't slow down, didn't stop or look back. He just let his long legs carry him through the crowd and out to the street. He knew Elijah was behind him, he didn't have to look. Once on the sidewalk he breathed in great lungfuls of early autumn air, trying to quell the white noise of nervous anticipation jangling though his system.
"Hey," Elijah's voice was soft, and his arm was warm at Orlando's waist.
"Hey," Orlando lifted his sunglasses and smiled into Elijah's eyes.
"C'mon." Elijah again led Orlando by the hand, and Orlando again followed the shorter man with only a slight quirk of his eyebrow.
They walked together around the block from the club, into an alleyway. Clutching and weaving like punch drunk prize fighters, Elijah and Orlando wound themselves together in a flurry of hands and hungry mouths. Elijah growled deep in the back of his throat as he shoved Orlando against the brickwork. His lips swiped across the soft skin of Orlando's mouth and then over and across his cheeks. His tongue darted flicks of taste over the slight rasp of stubble there. Orlando's hands stroked at Elijah's waist, fingers digging hard into the stripe of skin exposed in their urgency.
Chest heaving, Elijah managed to drag his mouth away from Orlando's, his forehead against the taller man's chin. "Hey man." He huffed, a smile barely concealed in his rough tone.
"Missed you, missed this, so fucking much." Orlando sighed against the slippery tufts of Elijah's hair. His hands slid to knead the rounded curve of Elijah's arse. "Mmmm, velvet," he mumbled, stroking the soft fabric as Elijah again raised himself onto his toes and sought the wide expanse of Orlando's mouth.
Hands grappled and stroked, drawn in a desperate effort to reacquaint themselves with the familiar geography of flesh and bone. Orlando drew Elijah to him, angling his hips and rubbing into the eager warmth of the other man's groin. Elijah's lips suckled at the taught slope of Orlando's neck, laving the honeyed skin with his tongue. As the the friction between them increased, and they rubbed in amped-up anticipation at their confined cocks, Elijah replaced his lips with his teeth, his moan echoed Orlando's pain-tinged groan as blood swelled under golden skin.
The realization of what he was doing caused Elijah to jerk back suddenly. "Shit, sorry man, sorry." He swiped at his mouth and Orlando looked down at him with heavy-lidded, lust dazed eyes.
"What? Why?" Orlando slow-motion lifted his right hand to carefully brush a finger across the rapidly reddening bruise just above his collar bone.
"Fuckin' hickey, man. Don't you have press tomorrow?"
"Oh, yeah. Doesn't matter. Bastards make shit up about me all the time. They probably won't know what to do with something...real." Orlando shook his head dismissively and extended an arm to reel Elijah back into him. "I want you to...to mark me." He whispered thickly, sliding long slim fingers first along the pale slip of skin just above the waist band of Elijah's pants, and then below.
"Mmm..." Elijah purred into the soft flesh of Orlando's neck before he again sucked and bit and licked, leaving soft stains of purple-red in the wake of his ministrations. He felt Orlando's fingers dig into him and move them even closer together. They began an aroused counterpoint, rubbing and stroking across hips and thighs and groins. But beyond that, beneath it, Elijah felt a low rumbling tremble in Orlando, and it worried him. "All right?" he asked roughly.
"Yeah, yeah," Elijah felt the words as soft kisses pressed to his temple. Orlando swallowed hard and the trembling twitched through the Brit's fingers and into Elijah's skin.
Elijah wound his arms tighter across Orlando's shoulders. "Hey," he whispered and pressed a gentle kiss just below Orlando's right eyebrow.
Eyes made the colour of cognac in the dimly lit alley blinked open and stared into Elijah's earnest face. "What's that for?" He swallowed hard again and tried to smile.
"For you. For us." The corners of Elijah's chapped lips titled up as he spoke. "Everyone thinks they know you, can have a piece of you," he dragged a scraggly-nailed finger gently across the same patch of skin on Orlando's eyelid. "But these freckles? These two freckles, right here?" The shorter man gently pressed into the skin beneath his finger tip, "They're mine."
Orlando made an unintelligible noise somewhere between a sob and a groan. Unable to take his eyes away from the frank blue stare, he cradled Elijah's face in his hands, thumbs stroking across cheeks and just under the frames of Elijah's glasses, then he lowered his head. He kissed Elijah with the utmost tenderness and Elijah finally felt the lean muscle beneath Orlando's sweatshirt flatten under his palms; felt the lanky man's soul-deep tremble relax into stillness. Gentle tongues explored the darkness of each others mouths as the only sound beyond road traffic and the murmur of pedestrians passing round the corner was their mingled, harsh breath.
"C'mon," Elijah finally lifted his mouth from Orlando's, "let's go." He peeled himself from Orlando's clinging embrace, keeping an arm around his narrow waist and steering the two of them toward the street. He raised his free hand and a taxi pulled up to the curb.
"Drake Hotel." Elijah responded when asked their destination.
Orlando turned to look at him, eyebrows raised in surprise (surprise). "You're staying there?"
"Yeah, a lot less bullshit." A small frown creased Elijah's forehead as he noticed Orlando pulling away from him. He watched as Orlando's eyes darted glances from the cab driver to where Elijah's palm rested against the age worn denim covering his hip.
"Right. Suppose so." Orlando sat on his hands.
Elijah withdrew his hand and immediately began worrying at the cuticle of his index finger with his teeth. That tremor, that thrum of worry or fear or something else Elijah couldn't quite name or place was back just under the surface of Orlando's placid features. Hard won intimacy had evaporated the moment they ceased to be alone.
"So," Orlando began conversationally, after a few seconds' pained silence, "how's Pam?"
Elijah turned from him to stare out into the night, suddenly having developed a keen interest in the waves of neon shop signs as they passed. He shrugged in a non-committal, avoiding way.
"Oh, um," Orlando cleared his throat and winced at the awkward space that had blossomed between them in the confines of the cab. "Well, uh, where's Pam?" he finally asked.
Elijah again shrugged, still focusing on the world outside the car's closed window, "New York, I guess," he wrapped one arm around himself while he raised the other, chewing at the cuticle of his thumb. "So, how's Kate?" he asked in a clipped, sneering tone.
Orlando sat up straight, and stared at his fingers, loosely linked in his lap. "Oh, Elijah, let's not start. Not here, not now. We have so little time..." His voice was gentle with regret and admonishment. He extended one hand to palm the round of one velvet-clad knee. Elijah's eyes, cold and forlorn in the greywash of the cab, flickered from Orlando's stroking fingers to the wary planes of his friend's face.
Elijah unfolded himself from his scrunched up crouch at the far side of the cab. His blunt-tipped fingers covered Orlando's, as they met and held each other's gaze. His fingers stroked along the elegant lengths of the fingers tangled with his own. He leaned over, and with his other hand began to stroke along the smooth denim expanse of Orlando's thigh.
He could hear Orlando's breathing, harsh through his nose, and he watched as the taller man
leaned in close, contact searing to life where their thighs pushed against one another, despite two layers of material. Orlando swallowed hard and managed to drag his eyes away for a brief second, darting a nervous glance at the cab driver, who was focused on wending his way through the busy traffic.
The hand on Orlando's thigh slowly edged higher, stroking and rubbing in circles until Elijah stopped at the crease of jean covered groin. Orlando's hand stayed on Elijah's knee, not pressing or stroking-- just a feather light presence. He bit his lip and leaned his head back, eyes closed. Elijah started to stroke at the ridge of Orlando's cock, straining at the confines of ancient denim. Elijah shifted slightly, moving forward, and using his thumb, popped open the brass fasteners on Orlando's fly. Orlando flexed under the rasping of Elijah's finger tips--curls pressed back into the padding of the seat--and dug his boot heels into the floorboards of the Buick Regal.
Elijah reached into the warm confines of Orlando's boxers and began to stroke along the rigid length he sought. He curled a loose fist and used a slow, steady motion to build a friction of fingers and foreskin, as Orlando levered and strained to meet him. He brushed his broad thumb across Orlando's leaking slit and was rewarded with a gentle hiss, not much louder than the sound of traffic outside. Orlando relaxed and thrust into Elijah's rhythm, eyes still closed but his lashes fluttering against the high sweep of his cheeks.
"Drake Hotel," the cab driver announced.
Elijah thumped his head into the curve of Orlando's neck, snatching back his hand as though he'd been burned, and crossing his arms in front of him. Orlando sat bolt upright and an embarrassed flush deepened his already coloured cheeks. He coughed and attempted to discreetly adjust himself and do up the buttons on his fly.
Fumbling his wallet out of his back pocket, Elijah thrust a wad of bills at the cabbie, not making eye contact, and beat a hasty retreat from the car. Orlando loped up beside him just as Elijah was snaking though yet another throng of club goers and wondered to himself exactly how staying here involved "less bullshit."
Again letting himself be guided by the gentle pressure of sure, strong fingers at his elbow, Orlando entered the Drake Hotel and suddenly understood. The hotel and the club were quite separate, in the rabbit warren complex. The concierge nodded and smiled at Elijah in the calm sleek quiet of the small hotel lobby. Elijah politely returned the smile, and then took to the gleaming metallic stair case. "There're only nineteen rooms here." Elijah looked up at Orlando as they ascended to the third floor and he took an honest to God room key from his pocket.
"Oh, I see." Was all Orlando could think of to say. His thoughts were back in the taxi and what had, or had almost, happened there.
"Do ya?" Elijah raised his eyebrows mischievously before giving the door a shove inward and hooking his arm through Orlando's. The door slammed shut and Elijah slammed Orlando's against the smooth wooden surface. One hand bunched and rucked up the soft gray sweatshirt while the other wound in the thick mass of Orlando's dark curls,lowering the broad mouth to his own.
Teeth and tongues searched out the soft secret darkness of mouths and Elijah nudged Orlando's thighs wide, rubbing his knee into Orlando's straining groin. He tore himself away from the deep hunger of the kiss to push Orlando's shirt off over his head, and then pinching and stroking at the obdurate rise of copper nipples. Elijah groaned in aroused satisfaction when he again reached for Orlando's hap-hazzardly fastened fly, making the darker man stutter out an equally aroused moan.
"Lij. Lijah," Orlando slowly raised his arms to create space between them. With deft and practiced movements he began to undo the buttons on Elijah's chambray shirt, one at a time. He took a reflexive gulp of air, stilling an eager Elijah in his grasp. " Waitwaitwait...I need...I just..." He swore under his breath and shoved an unsteady hand though the tangle of his hair, then nudged past a somewhat nonplussed Elijah.
"Sorry Lij, I'm just...tired." Orlando sat down heavily on the bed, knuckling at his eyes, before toeing off his boots.
Elijah stood appraising, his hands on his hips. "You're not just tired. There's something else...c'mon man...talk to me."
"I just, I dunno," Orlando leaned over, staring at the grain in the hardwood floor. "What if it's a flop?" he said in a small voice, toying with the silver ring around his thumb.
"Are you kidding me?" Elijah moved closer to the seated man, stopping in the vee of Orlando's spread legs. "You're not carrying this film, man. And as for the rest; fuck 'em." He wound curls of soft dark hair around his fingers. Orlando responded silently, leaning in and rubbing his cheek on the triangle of exposed, pale skin where the unfastened buttons of Elijah's shirt had parted.
Orlando sighed and snorted, continuing to rub back and forth as he spoke in low, pained tones. "I know I guess. It's just I've never managed to let anything matter this much to me. That it be good. That I be good. I worked so bloody hard, and it's Cameron...I guess, I just...I look at you and you've done such interesting, such cool things..."
Elijah laughed outright and tightened his grip on Orlando's silken curls, forcing the seated man to look up into concerned blue eyes. "Yeah, but I've been doing this for three quarters of my fuckin' life and I seem to remember something about Elijah Wood: Mr. Direct to DVD 1999..."
"Maybe I should just stick to movies based on theme park rides. There's got to be loads of them, yeah?" A mocking smile twisted Orlando's broad mouth as he moved backwards on the bed, elbows supporting his weight. "Or maybe I could, you know, work reception or something at your brilliant new record company, or whatever..."
Elijah shoved at Orlando's shoulders, sending him sprawling over the bed. "Would you cut out all this self-pitying bullshit? Jesus," he muttered, then gave a snap of his wrists and tugged Orlando's jeans down and off in one fluid motion. He climbed onto the bed and pinioned Orlando in place with his hips.
"I just," Orlando's wide-palmed hands bracketed Elijah's waist and his fingers stroked over the exposed skin at the younger man's abdomen. "I just feel all at sixes and sevens, you know? Like I have nothing to hold on to." He sighed as Elijah grasped the lumpy bones of his wrists in strong hands--thumbs skittering over the leather cuffs--and stretched his arms back over his head.
Elijah leaned down, his face close enough to Orlando's his eyelashes fluttered against the high flair of cheekbones. "Then hold on to me," he whispered, before lowering his mouth.
Orlando growled and yanked Elijah forward, thrusting his tongue past pink lips to suck and bite at the inside of Elijah's mouth; bucking his hips up to meet the eager twist of the man on top of him. He roughly rucked down the open sides of Elijah's shirt until his hands were bunching and rubbing at the soft pale skin of the shorter man's chest. Elijah could feel each finger digging into him, and after shaking his shirt off his wrists, he again wound his hands in Orlando's dark curls, forcing the other man up to meet him. He groaned down Orlando's throat at the feel of a calloused fingertip brushing roughly over tender flesh at the inside of his elbow.
This wasn't how Elijah had planned it. It wasn't what Elijah had thought Orlando needed. He'd meant to take things gentle and slow, re-establishing the connection that had been banked in their time apart. He wanted to bring the skittish Brit back to the person he was underneath all the tentative glances and hesitant touches. But Orlando had his own ideas about what he needed. Elijah paused briefly, untying his boots and leaving them at the bedside where they and his socks fell with a thud. He kept one hand petting and soothing Orlando while he used the other to remove his glasses, fold them and place them on the night stand.
Elijah slithered down the long golden body, pressing open-mouthed kisses to the soft expanse of Orlando's skin. He nipped and circled at Orlando's navel, dipping his tongue in to swirl and lick. Orlando broke out into a fine sweat when Elijah moved lower, mouthing and biting at Orlando's tumescent cock though the confines of cotton. Orlando was shaking and breathing through his nose, fingers scrabbling where they rested against the freshly painted brick wall. Elijah gently pulled Orlando's boxers down low. Hips involuntarily rose from the bed at the first touch of cold air and warm breath and rough fingers mingling together between Orlando's legs. Elijah sighed contentedly as he nuzzled at the dark nest of curls and lapped at the red and straining length of Orlando's erection.
Except for the stuttering rise and fall of his chest and the occasional lust induced twist and twitch, Orlando remained still under Elijah's careful exploration. His hands clenched--fingernails digging half moons into his palms--when he felt the wet stroke of Elijah's tongue slick across his sac, and then the slightest scrape of teeth as he was sucked into a perfect lush mouth. Elijah nosed at the space behind Orlando's balls, breathing in the musky dark scent.
"Lijah. Can we...I need..." Orlando struggled to sit up, despite the brushfire bright need sparking down his spine to pool in his groin.
A wolfish grin played across Elijah's sweetly pointed features as he looked up at Orlando, across the expanse of smooth muscle and skin. "Wanna skip the prelude and get strait to the fucking, do ya?" He licked lazily at the stripe of hair between Orlando's navel and pubic bone.
Orlando swiped a hand across his face and smirked, secretly amused that Elijah knew him so well. "Yeah. Yeah." He nodded emphatically and gave Elijah his best lopsided grin.
"'Kay," Elijah hauled himself up into a sitting position, patting Orlando's knee. "Just lemme go to the bathroom a sec and get...stuff." He yawned and stood, absently scratching at his sternum.
"God, look at you," Elijah sighed around a barely contained leer.
Tilting his chin and straining to look down his own prone form, Orlando asked, "Why, what's wrong with me?" sounding mildly self-conscious.
"Fucking nothing!" Elijah snorted. "You're, like, fucking cut man." He cast another long appreciative glance at Orlando's sprawled, naked body. His eyes lingered along the play of lean muscle across bone and the seemingly endless expanse of perfect skin. "Remember when we first...got together...back in New Zealand? You were so fucking skinny I thought you'd cut me!" Elijah couldn't resist reaching over and swiping his palm along the rounded gunwales of Orlando's ribs.
A feather pillow flew through the air, glancing Elijah's temple and falling to the floor. "Fuck off and get what you need to get!" Orlando tried to sound perturbed but he couldn't quell the pleased and flattered feelings Elijah's words conjured.
"Yes master! Who's bossy britches now? You know, if you were actually wearing britches!" Elijah giggled and did a slow motion run to the bathroom. He emerged a few seconds later, a smile still on his face and a brown bottle in his hands.
"This place supplies lube?" Orlando eyed the bottle suspiciously.
Shrugging his shoulders, Elijah replied, "Nah! It's..." he pressed the bottle close to his face, reading in a myopic squint, "Rose water and glycerin. So now your ass really will smell like roses."
Orlando laughed, brown eyes shining. "It'll do, smart arse," and snatched out a long arm, yanking Elijah back down on top of him.
"Wait a minute, man." Elijah sat back up on his haunches, setting the bottle down while he snicked open his zipper.
"Don't. Leave them on."
"Huh?"
"Your trousers." Orlando coughed nervously. "Could you, like, leave them on? I like how they...how the velvet, how it feels against my skin, yeah?" His eyes fluttered closed and he gnawed nervously at his bottom lip.
Elijah paused a moment, hand suspended at his waist. "Um, sure, I guess. Kinky bastard." He finally answered. "Although I'm not really sure how..."
Orlando's deft motions and encouraging gestures shuffled Elijah up the big bed, resting his back against the headboard. With a "C'mere, yeah?" he lifted Elijah's hips just enough to ruck the soft fabric of his trousers and underwear beneath the rounded curve of his ass. Elijah winced slightly as his cock sprang free and bobbed against the concavity of his hip.
"Like this," Orlando whispered before taking the fleshy lobe of Elijah's right ear into his mouth. He straddled Elijah's hips, brushing the thick blunt weight of Elijah's cock between the cheeks of his ass.
Elijah made a low,obscene noise as he jumped a little, startled at the dark heat of Orlando's body against his sensitive flesh. "Uh," Elijah pulled at Orlando's broad shoulders and forced apart Orlando's lips to stroke his tongue forcefully inside. "Uh huh. Yeah," Elijah's eyes fluttered shut and Orlando brushed fleeting breathy kisses across his lids and brows.
Leaning over, Orlando retrieved the bottle, thumbing off the cap and spilling a small puddle of the thick liquid into his cupped palm. He hazzarded a quick sniff and wrinkled his nose at the vaguely floral scent. Elijah slid his hands from their grip on Orlando's shoulders, along his back to stroke the downy hairs at the base of his spine. Orlando's movements caused Elijah's cock to bump and press further between Orlando's ass cheeks, a teasing touch to his hole.
Orlando bit his lip, swallowing a gasp, and took Elijah's hand into his own. Smearing some of the liquid over Elijah's fingers, he kissed a knuckle and then directed Elijah's hand behind him, over the curve of his ass, and between his cheeks. Elijah slurped against Orlando's neck, breathing hard as his fingers slid into the tightness of Orlando's body. Orlando flung an arm out, fingers starfish-wide against the white sheets, balancing himself against what Elijah was doing to him. "Need more," Orlando inclined his head towards the opaque brown bottle. "Been a long time," he gasped by way of explanation.
The rose water spilled in fat drops onto the mess of sheets and blankets, as Elijah eagerly filled his cupped palm. He rested his forehead against Orlando's shoulder while biting at his collar bone. His fingers slid inside Orlando's hot, eager body and he began to stroke with increasing urgency. God, he'd missed this: this feeling, this closeness.
The eager way Orlando opened and closed for him, just for him.
Orlando's coated his calloused, work-rough fingers in the viscous liquid, then lightly grasped Elijah's thick and bobbing cock, smearing it slick. " 'm, ready now, Lij." Orlando murmured into the hair at Elijah's temple, his breath spilling out hot shivers along the rose-blushed paleness of cheek and neck. Orlando rose to his knees, taking Elijah's cock in hand, fingers circling at the base of the shaft.
Gripping the smooth muscle of each buttock, Elijah spread Orlando wide. With one steadying hand on the mattress, Orlando impaled himself on Elijah's eager length. They gasped at the sudden rush of intimate contact. Elijah laughed a little, then slid his hands to Orlando's narrow hips, grasping and steadying him. Orlando blew out innumerable breaths, eyes clenched tightly closed. Then, he sighed, relaxing into a kind of liquid bonelessness. Elijah could feel the tight ring of muscle slacken, accepting him. There was a sense of smoothed, sliding heat. Orlando reached behind him, hands grasping and kneading at Elijah's velvet covered knees. He began a slow, heaving pivot; up and down and up and down.
Elijah murmured nonsense words and enthusiastic encouragement into every single inch of amber hued skin he could reach with tongue and lips and teeth. Orlando arched his neck, head tilting backwards at the intensity of feeling; inside and out. Elijah began to rock his hips, meeting Orlando's every thrust, and the dark eyed man swore he could feel Elijah's cock pounding into his navel. He gasped and swore and rode Elijah, the slapping of sweat smeared thighs mingling with their voices and breath.
As he pounded down onto Elijah's rock hard length and Elijah stroked hard up into him, Orlando's cock slipped and bumped between Elijah's hip and navel. Letting go of his bruise-blooming grasp on Orlando's hip, Elijah reached between them to stroke and pull and tease. Orlando's slit leaked precome over Elijah's skin and he could tell by the way the other man was breathing hard out of his nose that Orlando was perilously close to coming. "S'okay." Elijah whispered hoarsely, swiping an awkward kiss over Orlando's slack mouth. "C'mon man," as Orlando bounced and bobbled in his lap, impaling himself on Elijah's cock, Elijah pressed and squeezed Orlando's own length.
Orlando gave an inarticulate shout and a stream of silver-warm come spurted through Elijah's fingers and across his hip and belly. He slumped against Elijah's shoulder and gave in, letting Elijah thrust into him, cock bumping continually over the bundle of nerves deep inside. Elijah released Orlando's dick from his fingers. He brought his hand to his mouth and sucked eagerly at the sticky slip of Orlando's come, before jamming his fingers, knuckle deep into the other man's mouth. Orlando felt the hinges of his jaws ache under the strain as Elijah pressed forward.
Tasting himself on Elijah's fingers, Orlando curled forward, spine a rounded arch as blue eyes met brown, sharing a secret, dirty smile. They kissed then, all sloppy tongues and too much teeth. The fluid ease of the rhythm Orlando had originally set had been abandoned as Elijah rocked his hips in ever increasing, urgent thrusts. He felt Orlando's muscles clench him tight and hot and slick and he was ready. He gave into the electric thrum as his orgasm vibrated down his nervous system and into his groin. Orlando sighed in satisfaction at Elijah's cursing, and the feel of the orgasm pulsing deep into his hole.
They collapsed against each other, gasping and trembling as aftershocks rocked them. Orlando could feel Elijah's heart beat thunder-loud against his ear and cheek. He shifted uncomfortably, and Elijah gently lifted him from his lap and off his cock before they tumbled together in a tangle of sheets and limbs.
"Fuck." Elijah scratched at his balls and ran a hand across the silver streaked remains of Orlando's orgasm. He laughed and kissed Orlando awkwardly on the jaw.
Orlando said nothing, instead fussing with the blankets and smoothing the sheets. "Is this what we are, now? Is this all we are?" Orlando spoke softly into the darkness. He could feel the slight susurration of Elijah's breath against his temple.
"What?"
"Just, you know, a Film Festival Fuck?" there was pain behind the joking tone.
"No, Orli. No." Elijah sat up and shook Orlando's shoulders a little. "It's more than that. So much more. You know that. We've always known...But this his how things have to be. For now. Uncomplicated..." he trailed off.
In the dark, Orlando found Elijah's hands and stilled them from their nervous, concerned petting of his hair and cheek. "It isn't how it has to be." Orlando sat up and drew his knees to his chest under the light sheet.
"Orlando," Elijah spoke in a low warning tone. "Don't make me choose, man. You know it's a decision I won't make."
Orlando chuckled and rested his head on the hillock of his knees. "I know, I know. But, you do realize choosing not to choose is itself a choice?"
"Fuck!" Elijah's voice was sharp in the quiet of the room. "Don't start this pseudo-Buddhist bullshit. When the fuck did you become Yoda anyway? The day you wear an I take it up the ass t-shirt on Oprah is the day I book my interview with The Advocate" Elijah was angry; angry at his situation, angry at being put in this position over and over again, angry at himself. He blew out a breath and steadied himself, "Sorry, I'm sorry. I guess I'm just..."
"Tired?" Orlando--the sad smile audible in his voice-- reached out and threaded his fingers through the softness of Elijah's hair, sliding to the taught muscle of his neck, and gently pulled. He kissed Elijah's temple with gentle understanding and said, "Then maybe you should sleep." And he unfolded his lanky frame, one strong arm guiding Elijah, tight at his side, back and down onto the mattress.
"Yeah," Elijah managed to chuckle and his anger evaporated at the silken touch of Orlando's skin against his, from shoulder to knee. "You too," he sighed into the pillow, turning his head and mouthing at Orlando's jaw.
"Gotta leave early tomorrow," Orlando mumbled in to the pale flesh of Elijah's shoulder as he pulled the other man's compact frame onto his chest.
"Stay. Sleep." Elijah said simply. "I'll wake you in plenty of time to get back and pack."
Orlando's slow, even breathing betrayed his earlier half-hearted protest. Elijah kissed him soundly on the mouth, slipping his arms around the lean firmness of Orlando's chest, holding his sleeping form.
There were so many things Elijah wanted to tell Orlando. So many things he couldn't say. Instead he held Orlando tight, wanting nothing more than to keep him with him while he could. Making sure Orlando felt safe, protected, loved. In the dark, in the city that could have been any one of a thousand, he chose to believe that Orlando didn't need the words, that he already knew. And Elijah had almost convinced himself that was almost enough.