ext_15659 (![[identity profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/openid.png)
cloudlessclimes.livejournal.com) wrote in ![[community profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/community.png)
fellowshippers2006-07-16 09:00 pm
cloudlessclimes.livejournal.com) wrote in fellowshippers2006-07-16 09:00 pm
Point Five, Orlijah 1/3
Title: Point Five
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: University AU, first time fic. It's in the same AU as Ivy League, Cupcakes & Copulation, Calescent and these two ficlets. Ivy Leauge was supposed to be a one off but it ate my brain, and this story is based on a reference from the first fic I wrote.
Notes: Forcam_a because she made me these beautiful banners and incredibly fantastic icons and is an all 'round wonderful human being.
Betaed by the ever wonderfulqueen_geek with helpful suggestions and cheerleading from talesinbloom
x-posted to![[livejournal.com profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/external/lj-community.gif)
bloomwood_
Feedback:Makes the world go 'round.
“You should go after him.” Liv says conversationally before sucking on the straw in her amaretto sour.
“Hmm?” Orlando shifts his attention away from the bar where Billy and Dom are enthusiastically explaining the rules of cricket to a couple of Frosh girls.
“Elijah. You should go after him.” Liv nods and gives Orlando a knowing smile.
“Why?” Orlando’s voice cracks and he takes a mouthful of beer. “Is he upset about something? Blokes don’t follow blokes into the loo, Livvie. No need to take a slash en masse, yeah?”
“No...he’s not...upset.” Liv leans in close resting her hand on Orlando’s cotton-clad forearm. “But, it’s, like, the only chance you’re gonna get to be alone,” she pauses dramatically to emphasize the words, “with him.”
Orlando darts a nervous glance between his two male friends who are now actually demonstrating correct bowler’s stance, and Liv’s eager, open face. “Why the hell would I want to be alone,” here he stops, mockingly imitating what Liv has just said, “with Elijah?”
Liv gives a musical laugh and her nose wrinkles in mirth. “Oh please!” she whispers loudly in annoyance when Orlando withdraws his arm from beneath her fingers. “Since the day you met him it’s been Elijah this and Elijah that. And you turn into uber-klutz if you even so much as think you see him. And,” Liv leans in close to swipe teasingly at the few curls flopped over Orlando’s forehead, “you’ve been making cow eyes at the poor kid all night!”
“I have not!” Orlando exclaims indignantly, sitting fully upright. He shoots a nervous glance at the mime-cricket match happening to his left before he lowers his voice and repeats in a hissing whisper, “I have not.”
Still amused, Liv picks up her cocktail. “Yes.” she salutes Orlando and takes a long swallow. “You have. And, you’ve been so concerned Elijah doesn’t see you, you’ve failed to notice he’s been looking at you. The Exact. Same. Way.” Liv uses a crimson tipped fingernail poked into Orlando’s breastbone to emphasize each word.
“Really?” Orlando’s voice hitches higher again and his leg bobbles up and down against his stool.
Liv arches an eyebrow and nods. “Really.”
Again shifting furtive glances between Billy and Dom’s impromptu cricket demo and the path to the restrooms, Orlando manages to say “So, uh, I should, like--” he waves weakly in the direction Elijah had headed.
“Yes! Jesus, Orli! Do I have to take you by the hand?” Liv attempts to haul him across the bar.
“No! Fuck,” Orlando’s brown eyes darken as he wriggles free from the tall woman’s grasp.
Reluctantly, he unravels him lanky frame from his space at the table. “G’won,” Liv smiles encouragingly and makes shooing motions with both hands.
Steeling himself, Orlando takes a deep breath. Ensuring his two mates are still deeply engrossed in cricket minutiae, he finally forces his legs to take him toward the men’s toilets.
“Oh!” Elijah exclaims in surprise as the restroom door flies inward, just as he's about to open it. His right hand remains poised over the door handle and his eyes are an impossibly wide, startled blue.
“Uh. Hey,” Orlando mumbles, hands stuffed deep into the front pockets of his jeans.
Elijah’s hand comes to rest at his side and he casts an appraising eye at Orlando before he finally replies. “Hi.”
“Um...All right, Elijah?” The taller man attempts a light, conversational tone, never mind he’s still blocking the doorway.
Offering up a bemused smile, Elijah says, “M’fine,” while indicating he’d like to pass.
“Erm,” Orlando scratches nervously at his nose before running a hand through his riotous, dark curls. “I was wondering. That is, I thought maybe...” He takes a deep, frustrated breath and continues, “Could I, like, talk to you a mome?”
Curious now, Elijah shrugs and says “Sure.”
“Good.” Orlando sighs, relieved at being able to get out this much. He takes a step forward, leaving Elijah no choice but to back up into the men’s room. This is weird. Very, very weird. Every guy knows if you’re in a room with urinals there’s no eye contact, no talking; certainly no chit-chat or lingering.
“What’s up, Orlando?” Elijah is further confused by his friend’s behavior. Orlando’s casting darting glances between the one stall in the room and the door to the bar, and Elijah can actually see his heart pounding through his shirt, like some kind of cornered animal. Keeping his expression neutral and open, Elijah hopes Orlando will make sense, soon.
“Okay,” Orlando closes his eyes and takes yet another deep breath. “Liv said...I mean, that you, I think...” he sputters and stutters before uttering a small pained groan and fitting his lips over Elijah’s surprised moue.
Their lips are the only contact between their bodies, for the briefest of seconds. Orlando keeps his eyes open and sees the exact moment awareness registers in the crystalline blue of Elijah’s gaze. The smaller man raises his hands, palms flat against Orlando’s shoulders, and shoves. “What the fuck, man?” His expression is all shocked confusion.
Orlando wipes across his mouth with the back of his hand as though he hopes to wipe away the hurt and humiliation currently unfurling icy wings inside of him. “I thought...I mean...I’m sorry!” He mumbles and backs into the exit. When he thumps solid contact against the paint-gouged particle board, Orlando turns around, and flees.
“What the fuck, man?” Elijah repeats to the rank air in the room. Orlando had kissed him. Orlando fucking Bloom had looked shy and nervous and had fucking kissed him. It had to be a joke, right? Billy and Dom had to have put him up to it. They’re--what did they call it?--taking the piss. That was it. It had to be. But, what if it wasn’t a joke? Elijah turns and stares at his pale face in the scratched plastic mirror over the broken sink.
Shit. Orlando’d seemed genuine. Serious. What if it wasn’t a stupid prank pulled on the new kid? Orlando had kissed him. And Elijah had pushed him away and shouted at him. And Orlando had baled. What if he was serious and now Elijah’d ruined everything? He had to go after him.
Striding purposefully back into the bar, Elijah elbows Liv in the side. “Where’s Orlando?” He asks looking around the small dark room. He sees Dom and Billy doing a modified variation of the Macarena on the dance floor and shakes his head at their invitation to join in.
Liv’s eyebrow arches in confusion. “Isn’t he with you?”
“Shit. No. He must have gone out the fire exit.” Elijah picks up his green army jacket, shrugging it on as he winds a long striped scarf around his neck.
“Out? Outside?” Live exclaims. “He left his coat here! He’ll freeze in just a t-shirt!”
“I’ll take it to him.” Elijah scoops up the navy pea coat and jogs to the door.
He skitters into the parking lot, searching for any sign of Orlando. The only people in sight are a group of sorority girls all trying to squeeze into the cab of a pickup truck. Doing a frantic scan, Elijah calls “Orlando!” and runs around to the side of the pub. Deciding the other man must have taken the short cut through the green belt back to the dorms, Elijah hurries off through the trees, still calling Orlando’s name.
Ahead, faintly illuminated by the quarter-moon and the lights from the parking lot, Elijah sees a tall shadow quietly picking its way through the saplings and brush. “Orlando!” Elijah calls again, and comes to a stop when the taller man finally turns to acknowledge him.
“You forgot your coat.” Elijah blurts and thrusts the heavy wool garment at Orlando.
“Oh. Yeah.” Orlando says softly, not looking up. He grasps the jacket in both hands, working and kneading the material under his long, slender fingers.
“Aren’t you gonna put it on? You must be freezing.” Elijah swipes at his nose and jams his hands into his armpits. He’s silently wishing he hadn’t left his mittens in Liv’s car. Elijah studies Orlando’s expression in the grainy half-light. Brown eyes, usually so full of mischief, are hooded and down-cast. His broad mouth is turned down at the corners and Elijah’s brain is eagerly trying to convince him the moisture glittering silver across the sharp slope of Orlando’s cheekbones is simply a result of the bitter November wind.
Orlando makes no move to put on the coat, or look at Elijah, or even stalk away toward his dorm. “What do you want, Elijah?” Orlando says in a low voice, punctuated by a shaky exhalation.
Elijah watches the misty fog of Orlando’s breath mix with his own in the frigid night air. “You...you kissed me.”
Orlando’s breathing hitches and he makes a noise halfway between a chuckle and a sigh. “Yes. I know,” is all he says.
“Did...did Billy or Dom, or, like, somebody put you up to it?” Elijah extends his hand to Orlando’s forearm and he can feel the chill-damp of skin beneath the thin cotton of his long sleeved t-shirt.
Making a wounded animal noise, Orlando’s eyes--narrowed to ebony slits--flicker up to meet Elijah’s. “No.”
Elijah watches as Orlando’s eyes slide shut and lashes as dark and thick as coal soot jump and twitch on the fragile skin above his cheeks. Nimble as a stalking spider, Elijah’s hand slides up Orlando’s arm, skittering over the slope of t-shirt clad muscle, to rest lightly on the bunch and knot of his bicep. “You were serious? You meant it? You...you wanted...” Elijah’s eyes glitter gemstone bright in the gloom filtering through the evergreens.
A wry half smile and the slight shift of cotton beneath Elijah’s tentative touch are the only indicators Orlando hears him. Uncomfortable seconds pass before Orlando opens his eyes and stares full into Elijah’s upturned, earnest face. “Yes.”
Without further thought, Elijah shifts his weight to his toes, and his grasp tightens at Orlando’s shoulder. The first touch is awkward; all teeth clashing with the fragile skin of lips, and noses crunching. Orlando’s surprised startle shifts his head slightly, and their mouths align and there is only a softness that is impossibly warm in the cool of the late fall night.
Orlando’s mouth falls open as Elijah eagerly explores the soft, yielding skin. His hands come up to rest lightly at Elijah’s waist, balancing. Cold fingers pluck at the warm skin there. Orlando’s groan is echoed by Elijah, who presses into Orlando’s touch, raining sloppy wet kisses the taller man’s throat.
“Fuck,” Orlando manages to mutter now that his mouth is free of Elijah’s hungry exploration. “I want...I need...” he swallows hard and runs a shaky hand through the dark ruff of Elijah’s hair.
“I know, man. I know.” Elijah mutters against skin he never imagined could be so soft or taste so good. He shoves at Orlando’s shoulders, and after a few backward shuffle-steps, they thump to rest against the vast trunk of an old maple tree.
Orlando stands with his legs spread apart, hips bucked, as Elijah slides into his warmth. He manages a groan before yanking at the wind-tumbled mess of curls in his eagerness to taste and explore the sweet darkness inside Orlando’s wide mouth.
A wide-palmed hand presses and squeezes at the smooth muscles of Elijah’s neck beneath the collar of his jacket. “Oh. God. Oh God, I want...” Orlando mutters against the urgent lick of Elijah’s darting tongue.
Smiling, Elijah drags his cracked pink lips across the fine bones of Orlando’s cheek and over his jaw. He presses against Orlando’s hips, thrusting the taller man further into the tree’s embrace, gasping in pleasure when his thigh grazes the aroused heat of Orlando’s groin.
Drawing back to study Orlando, Elijah bites his lip and his eyes flash wickedly in the shadows. He shifts his knee and he can actually feel Orlando’s need thrumming though the layers of material and skin separating them, serving to amp up his own arousal. Emboldened by the affect he’s having on Orlando, Elijah drops to the ground, knees swathed in the dark pool of Orlando’s discarded jacket.
Orlando chokes out a harsh whispered cry as Elijah’s full lips kiss along the fragile skin beneath his rucked up t-shirt. He closes his eyes and thumps his head back against the solid security of the tree. The rasping sound of his zipper being lowered is loud in the quiet of the trees. His hands scrabble and grip the flaking maple bark. Cold November air overwhelms Orlando and he shudders and looks down.
To see Elijah’s hands come to his mouth, attempting to muffle a series of giggles. His completely flaccid cock is pale and vulnerable against dark denim. Orlando’s humiliation jabs hard and true beneath his ribs and he makes a high pitched noise through clenched teeth before shoving past Elijah. With a hitching, awkward gate, he manages to fasten his jeans as he flees.
“Shit. Shit! Shitshitshit!” Elijah takes a deep breath, collects his wits and Orlando’s pea coat, then slaps hard at the ground. He scrambles to his feet and hurtles through the scrub.
“Orlando! Orlando wait! Wait!” Breathless, Elijah arrives at the foot of the steps to the Senior Residence, clutching at Orlando’s elbow, forcing the taller boy to face him. “Jesus! I’m perfectly willing to chase you, but this is a little too fucking literal.” Elijah wheezes and gasps, bending double to catch his breath.
Orlando’s mouth silently opens and shuts, embarrassment evident in his wide eyes and his closed, self-protective stance. “Elijah I...”
“I know, I know. I’m so fucking sorry. Nervous laughter, man.” Elijah smoothes reassurance across Orlando’s broad shoulders and continues to blather in a relentless rush. “It’s okay, really. It’s really okay...”
“But, I was...I’m...” Orlando makes a frustrated gesture at his groin.
“It’s fucking freezing man. Let’s go...warm up.” Elijah’s torrent of words concludes when he flings the other man’s coat across his shoulders and slants his mouth over Orlando’s, blocking any further discussion, protest, or explanation.
When they finally break apart, forehead to forehead, Orlando manages to whisper, “Are you sure?”
“Man, I was on my knees with my face in your crotch in the middle of the fucking woods, in November! That’s pretty fucking sure, Orli.” Elijah’s smile is wide and his voice is a warm smear of breath across the bridge of Orlando’s nose.
Orlando leans back, his arms still at Elijah’s waist, and casts a sloe-eyed glance at the man currently petting furrows through the wild spring of curls poking out from under Orlando’s winter hat. “Are you sure this isn’t a joke?” He asks in all seriousness.
Elijah sighs in exasperation, “My face, your crotch. That sound like a joke to you?”
Orlando crosses his arms over his chest and bites his lip. “You’re not drunk?”
With a jerking motion, Elijah withdraws his left hand from his coat pocket and holds it up in front of Orlando’s face for inspection. Across the entire surface of the back of his hand is the scarlet letter all under-age students are forced to bear at campus pubs and clubs; a large, red, X. Orlando takes Elijah’s hand between both of his own, turning it back and forth in the faint light of the entryway, studying it carefully. “You’re not under 18, are you?”
Making a harrumphing noise at the back of his throat, Elijah snatches back his hand and replies in a haughty tone, “I’ll be 21 in January, that good enough for you?”
Rocking back on his heels Orlando grins and nods. “Yeah. Just about perfect.” He leans forward and kisses Elijah’s nose.
Elijah’s expression contorts in his efforts to contain the laughter coursing though him at the absurdity of the kiss. He hooks his elbow around Orlando’s wool clad neck and reels him in close, slanting his mouth across Orlando’s and darting his tongue into an eager accepting mouth. “Now. Can we go inside and warm up?”
Nodding, Orlando turns and heads up the steps. He holds the door open and allows Elijah in first. The two men walk down the brightly lit hallway, matching strides and not saying a word. Orlando fishes his key ring out of his jeans pocket, fitting it into the lock and opening the door.
With a nod, Orlando turns and heads up the steps. He holds the door open and allows Elijah in first. The two men walk down the brightly lit hallway, matching strides and not saying a word. Orlando fishes his key ring out of his jeans pocket, fitting it into the lock and opening the door.
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: University AU, first time fic. It's in the same AU as Ivy League, Cupcakes & Copulation, Calescent and these two ficlets. Ivy Leauge was supposed to be a one off but it ate my brain, and this story is based on a reference from the first fic I wrote.
Notes: For
cam_a because she made me these beautiful banners and incredibly fantastic icons and is an all 'round wonderful human being.
Betaed by the ever wonderful
queen_geek with helpful suggestions and cheerleading from talesinbloomx-posted to
bloomwood_ Feedback:Makes the world go 'round.
“You should go after him.” Liv says conversationally before sucking on the straw in her amaretto sour.
“Hmm?” Orlando shifts his attention away from the bar where Billy and Dom are enthusiastically explaining the rules of cricket to a couple of Frosh girls.
“Elijah. You should go after him.” Liv nods and gives Orlando a knowing smile.
“Why?” Orlando’s voice cracks and he takes a mouthful of beer. “Is he upset about something? Blokes don’t follow blokes into the loo, Livvie. No need to take a slash en masse, yeah?”
“No...he’s not...upset.” Liv leans in close resting her hand on Orlando’s cotton-clad forearm. “But, it’s, like, the only chance you’re gonna get to be alone,” she pauses dramatically to emphasize the words, “with him.”
Orlando darts a nervous glance between his two male friends who are now actually demonstrating correct bowler’s stance, and Liv’s eager, open face. “Why the hell would I want to be alone,” here he stops, mockingly imitating what Liv has just said, “with Elijah?”
Liv gives a musical laugh and her nose wrinkles in mirth. “Oh please!” she whispers loudly in annoyance when Orlando withdraws his arm from beneath her fingers. “Since the day you met him it’s been Elijah this and Elijah that. And you turn into uber-klutz if you even so much as think you see him. And,” Liv leans in close to swipe teasingly at the few curls flopped over Orlando’s forehead, “you’ve been making cow eyes at the poor kid all night!”
“I have not!” Orlando exclaims indignantly, sitting fully upright. He shoots a nervous glance at the mime-cricket match happening to his left before he lowers his voice and repeats in a hissing whisper, “I have not.”
Still amused, Liv picks up her cocktail. “Yes.” she salutes Orlando and takes a long swallow. “You have. And, you’ve been so concerned Elijah doesn’t see you, you’ve failed to notice he’s been looking at you. The Exact. Same. Way.” Liv uses a crimson tipped fingernail poked into Orlando’s breastbone to emphasize each word.
“Really?” Orlando’s voice hitches higher again and his leg bobbles up and down against his stool.
Liv arches an eyebrow and nods. “Really.”
Again shifting furtive glances between Billy and Dom’s impromptu cricket demo and the path to the restrooms, Orlando manages to say “So, uh, I should, like--” he waves weakly in the direction Elijah had headed.
“Yes! Jesus, Orli! Do I have to take you by the hand?” Liv attempts to haul him across the bar.
“No! Fuck,” Orlando’s brown eyes darken as he wriggles free from the tall woman’s grasp.
Reluctantly, he unravels him lanky frame from his space at the table. “G’won,” Liv smiles encouragingly and makes shooing motions with both hands.
Steeling himself, Orlando takes a deep breath. Ensuring his two mates are still deeply engrossed in cricket minutiae, he finally forces his legs to take him toward the men’s toilets.
“Oh!” Elijah exclaims in surprise as the restroom door flies inward, just as he's about to open it. His right hand remains poised over the door handle and his eyes are an impossibly wide, startled blue.
“Uh. Hey,” Orlando mumbles, hands stuffed deep into the front pockets of his jeans.
Elijah’s hand comes to rest at his side and he casts an appraising eye at Orlando before he finally replies. “Hi.”
“Um...All right, Elijah?” The taller man attempts a light, conversational tone, never mind he’s still blocking the doorway.
Offering up a bemused smile, Elijah says, “M’fine,” while indicating he’d like to pass.
“Erm,” Orlando scratches nervously at his nose before running a hand through his riotous, dark curls. “I was wondering. That is, I thought maybe...” He takes a deep, frustrated breath and continues, “Could I, like, talk to you a mome?”
Curious now, Elijah shrugs and says “Sure.”
“Good.” Orlando sighs, relieved at being able to get out this much. He takes a step forward, leaving Elijah no choice but to back up into the men’s room. This is weird. Very, very weird. Every guy knows if you’re in a room with urinals there’s no eye contact, no talking; certainly no chit-chat or lingering.
“What’s up, Orlando?” Elijah is further confused by his friend’s behavior. Orlando’s casting darting glances between the one stall in the room and the door to the bar, and Elijah can actually see his heart pounding through his shirt, like some kind of cornered animal. Keeping his expression neutral and open, Elijah hopes Orlando will make sense, soon.
“Okay,” Orlando closes his eyes and takes yet another deep breath. “Liv said...I mean, that you, I think...” he sputters and stutters before uttering a small pained groan and fitting his lips over Elijah’s surprised moue.
Their lips are the only contact between their bodies, for the briefest of seconds. Orlando keeps his eyes open and sees the exact moment awareness registers in the crystalline blue of Elijah’s gaze. The smaller man raises his hands, palms flat against Orlando’s shoulders, and shoves. “What the fuck, man?” His expression is all shocked confusion.
Orlando wipes across his mouth with the back of his hand as though he hopes to wipe away the hurt and humiliation currently unfurling icy wings inside of him. “I thought...I mean...I’m sorry!” He mumbles and backs into the exit. When he thumps solid contact against the paint-gouged particle board, Orlando turns around, and flees.
“What the fuck, man?” Elijah repeats to the rank air in the room. Orlando had kissed him. Orlando fucking Bloom had looked shy and nervous and had fucking kissed him. It had to be a joke, right? Billy and Dom had to have put him up to it. They’re--what did they call it?--taking the piss. That was it. It had to be. But, what if it wasn’t a joke? Elijah turns and stares at his pale face in the scratched plastic mirror over the broken sink.
Shit. Orlando’d seemed genuine. Serious. What if it wasn’t a stupid prank pulled on the new kid? Orlando had kissed him. And Elijah had pushed him away and shouted at him. And Orlando had baled. What if he was serious and now Elijah’d ruined everything? He had to go after him.
Striding purposefully back into the bar, Elijah elbows Liv in the side. “Where’s Orlando?” He asks looking around the small dark room. He sees Dom and Billy doing a modified variation of the Macarena on the dance floor and shakes his head at their invitation to join in.
Liv’s eyebrow arches in confusion. “Isn’t he with you?”
“Shit. No. He must have gone out the fire exit.” Elijah picks up his green army jacket, shrugging it on as he winds a long striped scarf around his neck.
“Out? Outside?” Live exclaims. “He left his coat here! He’ll freeze in just a t-shirt!”
“I’ll take it to him.” Elijah scoops up the navy pea coat and jogs to the door.
He skitters into the parking lot, searching for any sign of Orlando. The only people in sight are a group of sorority girls all trying to squeeze into the cab of a pickup truck. Doing a frantic scan, Elijah calls “Orlando!” and runs around to the side of the pub. Deciding the other man must have taken the short cut through the green belt back to the dorms, Elijah hurries off through the trees, still calling Orlando’s name.
Ahead, faintly illuminated by the quarter-moon and the lights from the parking lot, Elijah sees a tall shadow quietly picking its way through the saplings and brush. “Orlando!” Elijah calls again, and comes to a stop when the taller man finally turns to acknowledge him.
“You forgot your coat.” Elijah blurts and thrusts the heavy wool garment at Orlando.
“Oh. Yeah.” Orlando says softly, not looking up. He grasps the jacket in both hands, working and kneading the material under his long, slender fingers.
“Aren’t you gonna put it on? You must be freezing.” Elijah swipes at his nose and jams his hands into his armpits. He’s silently wishing he hadn’t left his mittens in Liv’s car. Elijah studies Orlando’s expression in the grainy half-light. Brown eyes, usually so full of mischief, are hooded and down-cast. His broad mouth is turned down at the corners and Elijah’s brain is eagerly trying to convince him the moisture glittering silver across the sharp slope of Orlando’s cheekbones is simply a result of the bitter November wind.
Orlando makes no move to put on the coat, or look at Elijah, or even stalk away toward his dorm. “What do you want, Elijah?” Orlando says in a low voice, punctuated by a shaky exhalation.
Elijah watches the misty fog of Orlando’s breath mix with his own in the frigid night air. “You...you kissed me.”
Orlando’s breathing hitches and he makes a noise halfway between a chuckle and a sigh. “Yes. I know,” is all he says.
“Did...did Billy or Dom, or, like, somebody put you up to it?” Elijah extends his hand to Orlando’s forearm and he can feel the chill-damp of skin beneath the thin cotton of his long sleeved t-shirt.
Making a wounded animal noise, Orlando’s eyes--narrowed to ebony slits--flicker up to meet Elijah’s. “No.”
Elijah watches as Orlando’s eyes slide shut and lashes as dark and thick as coal soot jump and twitch on the fragile skin above his cheeks. Nimble as a stalking spider, Elijah’s hand slides up Orlando’s arm, skittering over the slope of t-shirt clad muscle, to rest lightly on the bunch and knot of his bicep. “You were serious? You meant it? You...you wanted...” Elijah’s eyes glitter gemstone bright in the gloom filtering through the evergreens.
A wry half smile and the slight shift of cotton beneath Elijah’s tentative touch are the only indicators Orlando hears him. Uncomfortable seconds pass before Orlando opens his eyes and stares full into Elijah’s upturned, earnest face. “Yes.”
Without further thought, Elijah shifts his weight to his toes, and his grasp tightens at Orlando’s shoulder. The first touch is awkward; all teeth clashing with the fragile skin of lips, and noses crunching. Orlando’s surprised startle shifts his head slightly, and their mouths align and there is only a softness that is impossibly warm in the cool of the late fall night.
Orlando’s mouth falls open as Elijah eagerly explores the soft, yielding skin. His hands come up to rest lightly at Elijah’s waist, balancing. Cold fingers pluck at the warm skin there. Orlando’s groan is echoed by Elijah, who presses into Orlando’s touch, raining sloppy wet kisses the taller man’s throat.
“Fuck,” Orlando manages to mutter now that his mouth is free of Elijah’s hungry exploration. “I want...I need...” he swallows hard and runs a shaky hand through the dark ruff of Elijah’s hair.
“I know, man. I know.” Elijah mutters against skin he never imagined could be so soft or taste so good. He shoves at Orlando’s shoulders, and after a few backward shuffle-steps, they thump to rest against the vast trunk of an old maple tree.
Orlando stands with his legs spread apart, hips bucked, as Elijah slides into his warmth. He manages a groan before yanking at the wind-tumbled mess of curls in his eagerness to taste and explore the sweet darkness inside Orlando’s wide mouth.
A wide-palmed hand presses and squeezes at the smooth muscles of Elijah’s neck beneath the collar of his jacket. “Oh. God. Oh God, I want...” Orlando mutters against the urgent lick of Elijah’s darting tongue.
Smiling, Elijah drags his cracked pink lips across the fine bones of Orlando’s cheek and over his jaw. He presses against Orlando’s hips, thrusting the taller man further into the tree’s embrace, gasping in pleasure when his thigh grazes the aroused heat of Orlando’s groin.
Drawing back to study Orlando, Elijah bites his lip and his eyes flash wickedly in the shadows. He shifts his knee and he can actually feel Orlando’s need thrumming though the layers of material and skin separating them, serving to amp up his own arousal. Emboldened by the affect he’s having on Orlando, Elijah drops to the ground, knees swathed in the dark pool of Orlando’s discarded jacket.
Orlando chokes out a harsh whispered cry as Elijah’s full lips kiss along the fragile skin beneath his rucked up t-shirt. He closes his eyes and thumps his head back against the solid security of the tree. The rasping sound of his zipper being lowered is loud in the quiet of the trees. His hands scrabble and grip the flaking maple bark. Cold November air overwhelms Orlando and he shudders and looks down.
To see Elijah’s hands come to his mouth, attempting to muffle a series of giggles. His completely flaccid cock is pale and vulnerable against dark denim. Orlando’s humiliation jabs hard and true beneath his ribs and he makes a high pitched noise through clenched teeth before shoving past Elijah. With a hitching, awkward gate, he manages to fasten his jeans as he flees.
“Shit. Shit! Shitshitshit!” Elijah takes a deep breath, collects his wits and Orlando’s pea coat, then slaps hard at the ground. He scrambles to his feet and hurtles through the scrub.
“Orlando! Orlando wait! Wait!” Breathless, Elijah arrives at the foot of the steps to the Senior Residence, clutching at Orlando’s elbow, forcing the taller boy to face him. “Jesus! I’m perfectly willing to chase you, but this is a little too fucking literal.” Elijah wheezes and gasps, bending double to catch his breath.
Orlando’s mouth silently opens and shuts, embarrassment evident in his wide eyes and his closed, self-protective stance. “Elijah I...”
“I know, I know. I’m so fucking sorry. Nervous laughter, man.” Elijah smoothes reassurance across Orlando’s broad shoulders and continues to blather in a relentless rush. “It’s okay, really. It’s really okay...”
“But, I was...I’m...” Orlando makes a frustrated gesture at his groin.
“It’s fucking freezing man. Let’s go...warm up.” Elijah’s torrent of words concludes when he flings the other man’s coat across his shoulders and slants his mouth over Orlando’s, blocking any further discussion, protest, or explanation.
When they finally break apart, forehead to forehead, Orlando manages to whisper, “Are you sure?”
“Man, I was on my knees with my face in your crotch in the middle of the fucking woods, in November! That’s pretty fucking sure, Orli.” Elijah’s smile is wide and his voice is a warm smear of breath across the bridge of Orlando’s nose.
Orlando leans back, his arms still at Elijah’s waist, and casts a sloe-eyed glance at the man currently petting furrows through the wild spring of curls poking out from under Orlando’s winter hat. “Are you sure this isn’t a joke?” He asks in all seriousness.
Elijah sighs in exasperation, “My face, your crotch. That sound like a joke to you?”
Orlando crosses his arms over his chest and bites his lip. “You’re not drunk?”
With a jerking motion, Elijah withdraws his left hand from his coat pocket and holds it up in front of Orlando’s face for inspection. Across the entire surface of the back of his hand is the scarlet letter all under-age students are forced to bear at campus pubs and clubs; a large, red, X. Orlando takes Elijah’s hand between both of his own, turning it back and forth in the faint light of the entryway, studying it carefully. “You’re not under 18, are you?”
Making a harrumphing noise at the back of his throat, Elijah snatches back his hand and replies in a haughty tone, “I’ll be 21 in January, that good enough for you?”
Rocking back on his heels Orlando grins and nods. “Yeah. Just about perfect.” He leans forward and kisses Elijah’s nose.
Elijah’s expression contorts in his efforts to contain the laughter coursing though him at the absurdity of the kiss. He hooks his elbow around Orlando’s wool clad neck and reels him in close, slanting his mouth across Orlando’s and darting his tongue into an eager accepting mouth. “Now. Can we go inside and warm up?”
Nodding, Orlando turns and heads up the steps. He holds the door open and allows Elijah in first. The two men walk down the brightly lit hallway, matching strides and not saying a word. Orlando fishes his key ring out of his jeans pocket, fitting it into the lock and opening the door.
With a nod, Orlando turns and heads up the steps. He holds the door open and allows Elijah in first. The two men walk down the brightly lit hallway, matching strides and not saying a word. Orlando fishes his key ring out of his jeans pocket, fitting it into the lock and opening the door.
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I loved it, can't wait to read more.
Thanks for posting!
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