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fellowshippers2006-07-24 05:38 pm
cloudlessclimes.livejournal.com) wrote in fellowshippers2006-07-24 05:38 pm
Point Five, Orlijah, 3/3
Happy Monday!
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 League 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.
Point Five, part 1
Point Five, part 2
Orlando raises himself up from his gangling sprawl between Elijah's legs, patting the curve of the smaller boy's hip and getting to his feet "Hang on". Only to immediately become ensnared in the mess of their hastily discarded clothing. He bobbles and flails, his hand knocking the pen jar from his desk to the floor.
Elijah swats ineffectually at the fall of hair in his eyes, heart pounding like a trout on a line. "Huh? Orli, what're you doing?" He squints into the dark, watching as Orlando's shadow hitches and starts across the room.
"Trying not to fall on my arse. Ow." In turning to talk to Elijah, Orlando whacks his elbow on the large clothing cupboard he’s standing beside.
“Uh…”
Orlando bites his lip to contain his annoyance. Here he is, bare-fucking-arsed naked, fumbling around in the dark, his cock so hard he thinks he might pass out from lack of blood to his brain, with Elijah wanting him to think and talk and move all at once. “Well,” he snaps shrewishly, “No offence mate, but there’s no sodding way I’m doing this without a condom. I’ve never not. The thought of it’s kinda scary, you know?” The peevishness in his voice startles him and he clears his throat before saying, more gently, “And I don’t think you want to do this without lube, do you?”
Eyes widening in the thin moonlight, Elijah says, “Oh right.”
“It’s only just I’ve got to remember where I hid that shit. Dom’s always coming over and nicking mine.” Elijah really doesn’t want to think about Orlando and Dominic sharing condoms, or anything else. “So, uhn, you just hang tight, or like, relax. Um, lie back and think of England.” Orlando snickers at his own dumb joke.
Elijah folds his arms behind his head and giggles. “Right. Just fuckin’ hurry up, man.”
“Bugger,” Orlando exclaims with much thumping and banging. “It’s not on, Lij. I need the lamp.” Without waiting for a reply, Orlando shuffles to the desk and clicks the button on the goose-necked book light.
The low wattage of the bulb casts a soft glow in its arc. Elijah’s eyelashes flutter against his cheeks as he hastily grabs a pillow and cradles it to his groin. He casts furtive glances at Orlando--made golden by the lamplight-- and can’t help but feel all the air knocked from his body. Beautiful. Orlando’s beautiful; long limbs and soft skin and lean muscle.
Even the scars and bruises--left by prior run-ins with door knobs and table corners and chair backs and a lifetime of not paying attention to what’s right in front of him--are not enough to detract from the kind of imperfect, real beauty Elijah has never imagined could exist. He watches as Orlando opens drawers and cupboard doors, scratching his head in consternation, all the while his cock bobbing insistently towards his navel.
As if he can feel Elijah’s eyes on him, Orlando turns and gives a distracted, lopsided grin. “God, you’re awfully adorable.” He sighs and then continues to grope around in his sock drawer.
Elijah doesn’t think he’s blushed so much in his entire life. “Yeah, well,” he says, mockingly matter-of-fact. He stares down at the pillow case, picking at imaginary threads. “That’s exactly what I was going for. Why be sexy? Or hot? Or a fucking stud, when you can be,” he spits the word out as if he’s tasted something rotten, “adorable?”
“Ah ha!” Orlando extracts his hand from the jumble of white cotton sport socks and produces a tin of Athlete’s Foot powder. Tilting it up, a small tube and candy colored packets of condoms pour into his open palm. Smiling brighter now, he takes the few steps back to the bed and flops down beside Elijah.
He yanks the pillow away and flings it across the room, his calloused fingers stroking lazily across Elijah’s pelvic bone, teasing the thatch of dark hair. “You are,” Orlando says gently, but sincerely. “You’re all those things. To me.”
Elijah’s eyes flutter closed under Orlando’s close study. He gulps and takes a deep breath, trying to slow down his pounding heart and tell himself this is Orlando. It’s Orli, and he has nothing to be afraid of. He threads his fingers with Orlando’s and slants a sloppy, ill-aimed kiss across his mouth.
Orlando slumps back from their embrace, a goofy smile twitches the corner of his mouth as he snakes his tongue across his own lips, “Mmm, kay.” With jerky, distracted movements, Orlando awkwardly ducks his head to tear open a condom wrapper with his teeth.
“Oh, God. C’mon man.” Elijah runs the back of his hand over his friction swollen lips. “Let me,” he says in a husked whisper. “I mean, can I?” Wide blue eyes stare up at Orlando as Elijah slowly trails his finger-tips across Orlando’s palm, grasping the small rubber sheath cupped there.
“Yeah. Oh, fuck yeah.” Orlando snorts and squeezes lube into his palm, before tossing the bottle aside into the mess of blankets and sheets. He sucks in a breath between his clenched teeth at the first touch of Elijah’s thumb and forefinger on his leaking, rigid length. He leans back, his body arching up to Elijah’s touch, and supports his weight on one arm out-stretched behind him
Brows furrowed in concentration, Elijah’s hands squeeze and shift with a single-minded deliberateness, as he slowly unrolls the condom over Orlando’s steel-rod erection. A self satisfied grin splits Elijah’s face apart as he shifts back on the mattress to admire his handiwork. Orlando’s eyes remain firmly shut as Elijah tickles his finger tips across the thin liquid in Orlando’s palm, then spreading it over his sheathed dick. “Lots of lube, man,” Orlando rasps.
Elijah’s slicked palms slide and squeeze the thin lube over Orlando’s hard cock in a rhythmless stroke that alternates between feather light, and almost too painful to endure. The veins in Orlando’s forearms stand out in stark relief from his tawny skin as he strains against the mattress, struggling against the powerful rush of arousal.
“That’s enough, Lij.” Orlando gruffs, quickly pushing Elijah’s hands aside. A confused, wounded expression clouds Elijah’s eyes, and turns down the corners of his mouth.
Seeing Elijah’s hurt, Orlando reaches forward and tugs on Elijah’s hands, freeing them from where he’d shoved them into his armpits. “Hey now,” he nuzzles his forehead against Elijah’s temple. “If the, erm, rocket launches too early, then there’ll be no landing, eh?”
Elijah snorts a laugh and then slicks his lips against the smooth expanse of Orlando’s throat. “I see your point.” Looking down between their two nude bodies, Elijah shifts and Orlando’s straining cock bobs against his navel. “I also feel it.” The two boys laugh nervously. “So…” Elijah says, rubbing the lube and pre-come stickiness from his fingers onto the sheets.
Orlando reaches across himself and nervously scratches at his shoulder blade. He exhales a long shaking breath and says, “Okay, um, right. Let me just,” he stands up and places tentative hands at Elijah’s hips. “Can you, like, roll over, maybe?”
The heat from Orlando’s fingertips bleeds into Elijah’s skin and crackles across his nerves. “Um, you mean on to my stomach?” His voice is high and breathy, and he swallows hard before twisting to lie with his chest against the cool sheets.
“Yeah. Yes, right.” The tip of Orlando’s tongue appears at the corner of his mouth as he gently shifts and nudges Elijah’s compliant limbs. With much stumbling and faltering and an unfortunate elbow to Orlando’s groin, eventually Elijah clues in and gets to his hands and knees.
Panting and huffing, Orlando rises to his feet. Picking up the pillow he'd earlier tossed aside, Orlando places it on the bed, just below Elijah's hips, and slants his mouth once more across Elijah’s. Drawing away, leaving Elijah slack jawed and panting, Orlando squints and angles his head slightly. With tiny touches to Elijah’s thighs and ankles, and the soles of his feet, he eventually maneuvers the kneeling man in to what he considers the ideal place on the bed. He scooches behind Elijah, his knees making twin depressions in the cheap mattress, as he frames Elijah’s tensed legs with his own. Elijah startles, stifling a yelp at feeling Orlando so close. Surrounding him. The sursur of the soft hair on Orlando’s legs rubbing the sensitive skin of Elijah’s thighs is overwhelming and loud to their ears.
The sensation of Orlando’s cock nudging with determined insistence at his entrance is something beyond description. Yet, it’s not unwelcome. Elijah’s groan shudders through his entire body and fills Orlando’s stroking palms. Sliding his hands up the bunched muscles of Elijah’s sides, Orlando nips playfully at Elijah’s earlobe and whispers, “Relax Lij. Lemme in. Just lemme in.”
Elijah can make no reply. He buries his face in the pillow, bracing his weight with his arms. He’s still slick and wet from Orli’s tongue fucking, and with a low, feral growl, Orlando slips inside him.
The first thrust catches Elijah off guard and his weight shifts forward, knocking the crown of his head into the cinderblock wall. “Yow!” shock and surprise are muffled by the pillow where he's burried his face. The lamp teeters off the edge of the desk and free from the outlet, plunging the room again into darkness.
“Christ, Elijah, mind your head!” Orlando’s own head snaps up, and though a force of will he never knew he possessed he manages to still himself. His hands clutch firmly at Elijah’s hips and right the smaller man to his knees again.
He is sheathed entirely inside Elijah, and can feel the wicked ripple and shift of Elijah’s body. The freight train rumble of impending release is already hurtling though Orlando’s groin and he knows this is going to be faster then he wishes but that there’s nothing he can do about it, now. It’s fucking Elijah. He’s fucking Elijah, and that makes his vision blur and his breath stutter.
Elijah again shifts his weight to his bent elbows and grasps the wadded up sheets in his fists. He grinds his teeth together and experimentally wriggles, feeling his thighs brush Orlando’s. Well, shit. It does hurt. A lot. But behind the stretch and beyond the burn is some thing else. Something dark and trembling, and so fucking good Elijah can’t wait to get beyond the awkward strangeness of this initial hurt, to chase it down and revel in the pure sensation of Orlando fucking him.
Orlando slides a hand across Elijah’s ribs, fingertips smearing the fine sheen of sweat dotting pale skin. “God, Lijah,” his voice is harsh and straining, “You feel so fucking good, man.” His strong hands squeeze reassuringly. “You’re doin’ so good, baby. So good.”
Baby. Elijah always thought terms of endearment were stupid; embarrassing. Of course, that was before he’d ever been on the receiving end of those terms, from anyone. A feeling of warmth and tenderness spreads inside Elijah and makes the discomfort and awkwardness bearable. He breathes heavy through his nose and thinks he should say something back, let Orlando know what such a simple, throw-away phase means to him. Instead he says, “Just fucking move already, man," and then lapses into an incomprehensible litany of profanity and begging, mumbled into the curve of his elbow or face down into the pillow.
Orlando manages a careful, slow thrust, breathing hard and fast through his nose. Elijah slides and ripples around him and in less than a dozen careful, tentative strokes the supernova burst of his orgasm shudders through him and into Elijah.
Orlando slumps onto the arched curve of Elijah’s tensed back, rubbing his cheek against the perspiration-dampened skin, trying to catch his breath. He babbles reassurance and praise, and with great care, withdraws.
Flopping onto his back, and flicking the used condom into the waste basket, Orlando reaches over to draw Elijah to him. “Jesus Lij, you’re still hard!” Orlando exclaims in shock as his arm flops around Elijah’s waist.
“Sorry,” Elijah mumbles in embarrassment against the solidity of Orlando’s shoulder.
Fingers stroking the still straining length of Elijah’s erection, Orlando swipes his mouth across the sweat dampened hair at the boy’s temple. “Don’t be fuckin’ sorry, twat. That’s amazing. We need to take care of you, yeah?” Orlando shifts in the bed, rolling over until he is pressed flush against the length of Elijah’s compact frame.
“It’s okay, Orli,” Elijah is amazed he can formulate words as Orlando’s hand continues to rub against his cock, smearing precome along its length.
“C’mon,” Orlando guides Elijah to the dark cleft between his thighs. “C’mon,” He husks against the sensitive shell of Elijah’s ear. He bucks up, rubbing his satiated penis against Elijah’s groin.
Sparks and stars shock Elijah’s vision behind closed eyes and he can’t help but return the frantic friction. He rubs and thrusts, sliding against sweat and skin, and Orlando’s enthusiastic panting encourages the younger man to climax. With a low groan, threads of come spill out over the golden skin of Orlando’s abdomen. Shaking, Elijah lowers himself off Orlando and back down onto the mess of sheets and blankets.
Usually, after, it’s all Orlando can do to keep his eyes open. But this time, it’s different. This time it’s Elijah. Elijah’s first time. Orlando blinks away his weariness and extends a broad palm to the shallow cup of Elijah’s hip, while lazily raising the other to rub the remnants of Elijah’s come into his own belly. “All right, Lijah?” he husks into the darkness, giving the smooth flesh a gentle squeeze.
Elijah rubs his forearm across his eyes and gives a small, shaky nod. Realizing Orlando probably can’t see it in the darkness, he finally manages to say “Yeah, yeah,” in a stumbling breath. “I just didn’t know...I mean I never thought...” His voice wobbles and he finds himself embarrassingly close to tears.
Rolling to his side, Orlando leans forward and softly mouths at the knot of muscle atop Elijah’s shoulder. “It’ll get better,” he says in a quiet, low voice. “It’ll be better next time, promise.” Orlando’s round British tones are blurry-edged with sleep as he murmurs comfort against the softness of Elijah’s skin.
Next time? Next time! Orlando’d said next time. “Next time?” Elijah reaches to cover Orlando’s stroking fingers with his own, and leans in to the undemanding touch of Orlando’s lips against his jaw.
“Yeah, man. Next time.” Orlando can’t stifle his yawn and he does a sleepy, feline stretch, pulling Elijah closer still. “Maybe you can try fucking me or something.”
Elijah blinks rapidly and swallows, unable to form any kind of verbal response. He clutches tighter at Orlando’s long fingers and nuzzles the strong jaw now breathing distance away from his own. The calm, even puff of Orlando’s slightly beer sour breath against Elijah’s mouth lulls them both into sleep.
* * *
Elijah startles awake, confused and on the verge of panic, not knowing where he is. As wakefulness takes hold, he settles back, realizing he’s safe; in Orlando’s bed. And Orlando is right there. Beside him. He stretches and smiles, opening his eyes. While he is warm and naked underneath the thin dorm-issued sheet, Orlando is fully clothed, lying on top of the sheet, on his side. He’s is, however, pressed along Elijah’s ribcage through the low thread count cotton.
“Mornin’” Orlando smiles, raises his index finger and leans close to Elijah’s face, “Even your eyelashes are fucking beautiful, man,” his whisper a sultry purr.
“What?” Elijah jerks back from the inquisitive finger.
Orlando chuckles and then says, a tone of awe audible, “Your eye lashes. They’re like really really light at the roots and dark at the tips. Like...feathers.” Elijah blinks rapidly, unintentionally highlighting the body part in question. His contacts are sticky and his vision is a little blurry, but he can definitely see the goofy grin on Orlando’s face. “Freak,” Elijah shoves at Orlando’s shoulder.
Orlando just shrugs, his smile even wider, and rolls off the bed. “I’m goin’ for a run. You wanna come?” He roots around in his closet, tugging out a thick hooded sweatshirt. He burrows into it, before sitting at his desk chair to shove on his runners.
Yawning and stretching, Elijah snickers, “Yeah, cause that’s what I wanna do at,” he pauses to look at the bedside clock, “8 fucking a.m. on a Saturday.” He yawns again and sits up.
“Fine, you stay here and do your sleeping beauty thing and I’ll be back in a tick.” Orlando says, chuckling. He pauses at the door, noticing the way Elijah winces, bracing his weight on his forearms. “You sore?” he asks.
A deep pink blush spreads across Elijah’s cheeks and down his neck. He picks at the torn cuticle on his left thumb. “A little,” he shrugs indifferently. “But, it’s okay...” he trails off into an inaudible mumble.
“Hmm?” Orlando crosses the room and perches on the edge of the bed, ducking his head in an attempt to meet Elijah’s hooded gaze.
“Uh..I said, it’s...It’s all right. I...I kinda....I like it.” Elijah has developed a sudden interest in picking at the blanket seam and his entire head is so red it’s almost magenta.
“You like it?” Orlando sits back and takes in the slight frame of the man sitting in his bed.
“Uh, well, um. It, it reminds me. Of what you did to me...of what we did...” Elijah’s voice is quiet and trails off as he lifts his hands to his eyes, attempting to hide his embarrassment.
“Oh,” is the only coherent thought Orlando is capable of. He gently takes Elijah’s hands in his own, tugging them out of the way. “Lij,” he says softly, kissing the plump “O” of Elijah’s mouth. Orlando shifts forward, his arms bracketing Elijah’s waist where the sheets lie in a crumpled bunch.
Elijah’s hands search over the thick fleece surface of Orlando’s sweatshirt, his head tilted back as the slick dark heat of Orlando’s tongue plunges and slides in and out of his mouth. Lost again in the determined exploration of each other’s mouths.
“Yeah, so.” Orlando chuckles and sits up again, running an unsteady hand through his hair.
“So,” Elijah smiles and can’t help the huge yawn that follows. He pushes at Orlando’s thigh with his toes. “Go. Run ‘til ya puke. I’ll be here doing the sleeping beauty thing.” He stretches again, linking his fingers high above his head and giving an appreciative groan before flopping down on the pillows.
“You do that.” Orlando laughs and gives Elijah’s supine form one last appreciative look before heading out the door.
When he hears the snick of the door catching, Elijah takes a pillow and places it over his face, inhaling deeply the sharp warm scent of Orlando. He holds it there for a few minutes, grinning like an idiot but unable to stop himself. He sighs and hugs the pillow to him before finally giving into the pleasant tug of sleep.
* * *
A solid thump and the feeling of being entirely surrounded by warmth next wakes Elijah. He opens his eyes and smiles into laughing brown eyes. “Hey,” he says, voice scratchy with sleep.
“Hiya,” Orlando’s voice is barely more than a whisper and his breath tickles over Elijah’s chapped lips. “M’back. Miss me?” He lowers his mouth to cover Elijah’s, not waiting for a reply.
The kiss is soft and sleepy, and flavored with the mint tang of Orlando’s toothpaste. Elijah can’t help but continue to smile through Orlando’s eager investigation. “Mmm, you’re all sweaty.” Elijah slides his hand along Orlando’s neck before allowing his fingers to tangle in the riot of silken brown hair.
Orlando draws back from the sleepy boy, nose wrinkled in an expression of disgust. “Sorry. Must pong something fierce. I should shower.” He shifts, attempting to disentangle himself from Elijah.
Elijah strengthens his hold at the base of Orlando’s skull and flings a slumber-heavy arm over his narrow waist. “I said MMM! You’re all sweaty.” To illustrate his point Elijah juts his jaw forward and his pink tongue darts out to lave along the rigid tendons of Orlando’s neck.
“Oh.”
“Mmm,” Elijah alternates stroking the smooth skin with his tongue and nipping at it with his teeth. Orlando is moaning and straining to kiss whatever part of Elijah he can reach.
Through his track bottoms, Orlando can feel Elijah’s morning arousal, hard and insistent at his hip. He angles his head to kiss Elijah’s jaw and strokes broad-palmed swipes across the firmness of Elijah’s bare chest, circling the pebbled rise of a nipple. His breath hitches as he feels Elijah press up into him.
“God Lijah, feel what you do to me?” Orlando husks as he strokes his fingers down Elijah’s forearm, groping for his hand. He shutter-shimmies against Elijah’s groin, panting as blunt tipped fingers stroke across his straining erection.
Elijah tilts his hips as his fingers circle the velvet of Orlando’s cock, knuckles brushing against waistband. “Yeah. Oh yeah,” his unskilled fumbling elicits an appreciative, drawn out groan. Licking his lips in aroused concentration, Elijah shifts, and the thin sheet at his waist slips over his thighs and the blunt, thick heat of his cock presses into the concavity of Orlando’s navel.
Orlando slips a long-fingered hand around Elijah’s thigh, securing the smaller boy’s leg at his waist. Elijah’s eyes flare wide in shocked delight at the textured friction of their clashing erections. “Fuck ” He yelps as Orlando huffs a laugh into the straining muscles of his neck. Elijah’s come splatters, warm and pearly, over Orlando’s stomach and waist, darkening the fabric of his sweats. Gasping and bunching the sheets in one hand, Elijah continues to pull and tease at Orlando’s cock with the other.
Running an unsteady hand down Elijah’s chest, Orlando bucks faster into the teasing column of Elijah’s fingers until he too gives into the flash-flood of his climax. Brushing his fingers through the anarchy of Elijah’s hair, Orlando chuckles-- a low smokey sound-- and says, “Guess I really need to shower now, yeah?”
Elijah’s hands slide down the sweat-slick, leanly muscled surface of Orlando’s back. “Mmm hmmm,” is all he can say before he again gives into the delicious pull of sleep.
* * *
When Elijah again surfaces from sleep, Orlando is nowhere to be found. He hauls himself up onto his elbows and blinks in confusion. Squinting, he sees a sheet of loose-leaf propped up on a chemistry book. Written in a large looping scrawl he reads;
Hiya Sleeping Beauty;
If you can haul your lazy arse out of bed before 11:00, meet me at the pool. We’ll do breakfast after I’m done practice.
O.
Elijah wipes a sleepy hand over his eyes and can’t help the cheesy grin causing his cheeks to ache. Okay, Orlando fucking Bloom, wet and in a Speedo? Hells yes Elijah can haul his arse out of bed at--he glares at the alarm clock--10:45.
Dodging puddles, Elijah’s sneaker clad feet pound the slick pavement as he hurtles across campus to the Athletic Center. He screeches to a halt, flinging open the heavy door. The smell of chlorine and sweat hits him full force as he pants and huffs and slows to a walk.
He glances at the clock over he office window and is impressed to note that he’s made it from half awake to fully dressed (in yesterday’s clothes) and to the other side of the campus in eleven minutes.
Self consciously adjusting his scarf, Elijah steps onto the pool deck and cranes his neck. Elijah immediately spots the familiar tall, lanky frame. Unfortunately not clad in a Speedo, but fully clothed in a warm up suit. His hair, glossy black and wet, is clinging to his jacket collar in loose curls. Elijah’s grin erupts full force and he switches to a trot, heading to where Orlando is on the far side of the pool, surrounded by his team mates.
He squelches to a halt upon seeing the heavy lidded, warning glace Orlando shoots him. His high tops squeak on the tiled deck and echo across the broad expanse of the Olympic sized pool. All eyes in the group turn to him, and Elijah smirks and raises his hand in a half-hearted wave. “Uh, hi,” he says, biting his lip.
The other swimmers exchange puzzled looks and shoulder shrugs, before slapping Orlando on the back and dispersing. Once his team mates are gone, Orlando regards Elijah, although his only acknowledgment is the slight lifting of his chin and the soft flutter of his lashes. Shoving his fists deep into the zippered pocket of his track jacket, the tall boy finally says “Hang on Lij, I just gotta get my bag.” And he turns towards the dressing room.
Elijah hugs his arms around himself and tries to puzzle through what just happened. Not that he was expecting Orlando to sweep him into his arms and twirl him in circles of so-happy-I-could-trip-through-a-meadow-full-of-daisies kind of love. But Orlando seemed so...distant. Doubt and fear wage war with uncertainty and embarrassment as Elijah wonders to himself what he’s done wrong; if he’d made all of this into something it isn’t. He keeps his hands shoved beneath his folded arms to keep from gnawing his anxiety into his finger nails. What if Orlando doesn’t come back? Whatifwhatifwhatifwhatif? Seeing the familiar figure appear in the doorway, backpack in hand, does nothing to eliminate that motherfucker Doubt, currently doing the rumba in Elijah’s guts.
With a sheepish smile Orlando mumbles a quiet “Hey Lijah,” before placing a palm flat against Elijah’s lower back and directing him out of the Athletic Center. “I thought we’d go to the diner? We should probably, talk, or whatever,” Orlando reaches into his jacket pocket and extracts a knit cap, tugging it on over his still wet curls. He shortens and slows his pace, waiting for Elijah to reply.
“Sure,” the blue eyed boy says, finally. Elijah keeps his eyes on the gravel pathway in front of him and stubbornly refuses to meet Orlando’s confusion-widened eyes. Talk. We should talk. Or whatever. Fuck.
Orlando shrugs, and in an oddly graceful motion opens the door to his jeep and chucks his pack onto the back seat. Wordlessly, Elijah sinks into the passenger seat and stares out the window while Orlando eases out of the lot.
Neither says a word in the five minutes it takes to drive from campus to the quaint downtown, dotted with mid-nineteenth century buildings. Orlando shoots Elijah questioning glances, but doesn’t want to push things, figuring the slighter boy may be a little freaked out by all that’s happened between them, and so remains quiet. Elijah sits, silently berating himself for being such an idiot; for buying into all the hearts and flowers, and girly shit like hope that last night wasn’t just about a casual fuck.
The two uneasy friends unfold themselves from the jeep, Orlando turning up his collar to the bitter November wind and shuddering a little. Elijah wants desperately to touch Orlando, to have Orlando touch him. But he’s afraid to ask, afraid to just do it and he has no idea why. When did he become this needy, clinging, insecure freak? Just get the fuck over yourself, Elwood..
“I’ve done loads of fucking around, yeah?” Orlando says, finally, cutting into Elijah’s inner-musings. He nudges his shoulder against Elijah’s, guiding him through the glass and chrome doors of the diner.
“Oh yeah?” Elijah tries to be nonchalant, but he hears the squeaking as his voice rises in tone. He’s preparing himself for the kiss off. The thanks, it’s been swell.
“Yeah.” Orlando lopes across the houndstooth tile, shifting into a booth at the back of the restaurant. He casts a sheepish, sidelong glance at Elijah who flops into the seat across the table. “And, and...well...I don’t want that. Anymore.”
Here it comes Elijah thinks. “Uh-huh.” He says, shrugging out of his jacket as Orlando takes menus from the polyester-clad waitress, shoving one across the table.
“Um, what I want, what I mean is...” Orlando smiles blandly at the blond woman filling their coffee cups. “I’ll have the lumberjack special, scrambled with bacon and rye toast. Side of home fries, please.”
“Same.” Elijah smiles his thanks and busies himself with swirling the packets of sugar and cream into his cup, avoiding looking at Orlando.
Orlando scratches his nose nervously, fidgeting and unbuttoning his coat while repeatedly dunking a spoon into his cup. “I mean, I thought maybe you and I, we could, like be together,” he finishes weakly, shrugging in an awkward uncomfortable gesture.
Staring hard at Orlando’s busy hands, Elijah grapples with the meaning of his words. He was prepared for the sting of rejection, but has no idea what to do with this. He shreds his napkin and continues to watch Orlando fidget, and tries to figure out what any of this means.
“Why, Orlando Bloom,” Elijah flutters his eyelashes and affects an expression of exaggerated coquettishness, “Are you asking me to wear your class ring?” He clasps his hands under his chin and sighs dramatically. “Giving me your letter jacket? Are you asking me to go steady?” He’s attempting to joke but can’t help but hang on to the fluttering of hope in the pit of his stomach.
“That’s exactly what I’m asking.” Orlando stares across the melamine surface of the table, fixing Elijah with brown eyes made even wider then usual with frank honesty.
Elijah swallows, opens his mouth, can’t find words and then shuts his mouth. He’s saved from answering right away when the waitress brings their orders. “Okay,” he says softly into his breakfast plate.
Hacking industriously at his pancakes with his knife and fork, then reaching for the syrup, Orlando continues, “I mean I know I’ve gone about this all wrong, and done things all backwards, like, but I really really respect you and I think that maybe if we take the time we could...”
“I said okay.” Elijah swallows a lukewarm mouthful of coffee.
“We could like, maybe go on dates or whatever the fuck and maybe get to know each other...”
“Orlando.”
Flapjacks sufficiently cut into bite size squares and lightly glazed with table syrup, Orlando tackles his scrambled eggs with the edge of his fork. “I just really fucking like being around you, and...”
“Orlando,” Elijah takes his own fork, reaches for Orlando’s plate, spears a neat section of pancake, and stuffs it into Orlando’s mouth. “If you’d shut the fuck up for, like ten seconds, you’d realize I said okay. Yes. I’ll date you. I’ll go out with you. Just you. Nobody else. But you.” Elijah crosses his arms across his chest in triumph at actually getting the boy to stop babbling long enough to listen.
Chewing methodically and swallowing with an audible gulp, Orlando’s expression of shocked surprise melds into an enormous grin. “Boop boop be doo?”
Elijah chokes on his mouthful of eggs. “Wha...?” He snorts and the snort becomes a full blown laugh. “Dude, you’re insane.”
Shrugging and shoveling food into his mouth, Orlando mumbles, “Yeah, so whaddaya gonna do about it?”
Turning his expression towards his meal, Elijah barely whispers, “I really fucking wanna kiss you, man.”
“So,“ Orlando says simply, “Do it.”
Elijah sneaks a glance at his surroundings. Dave, the diner’s cook is in the back at the grill. The bottle-blond waitress is industriously wrapping cutlery in paper napkins at the busing station, and the only other patron--an elderly man--is engrossed in his crossword puzzle and sitting at the counter. Blue eyes flash electric and Elijah braces his palms on the flat table top. He bobs forward and covers Orlando’s broadly grinning mouth with his own. Dropping back onto his side of the booth with an energetic bounce, Elijah sighs melodramatically and says “Man,this is gonna be awesome.”
“Yeah,” Orlando chuckles softly, “it is.” And he leans back across the table to lick a smear of syrup off of Elijah’s impossibly pink bottom lip.
Title: Point Five
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 League 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.
Point Five, part 1
Point Five, part 2
Orlando raises himself up from his gangling sprawl between Elijah's legs, patting the curve of the smaller boy's hip and getting to his feet "Hang on". Only to immediately become ensnared in the mess of their hastily discarded clothing. He bobbles and flails, his hand knocking the pen jar from his desk to the floor.
Elijah swats ineffectually at the fall of hair in his eyes, heart pounding like a trout on a line. "Huh? Orli, what're you doing?" He squints into the dark, watching as Orlando's shadow hitches and starts across the room.
"Trying not to fall on my arse. Ow." In turning to talk to Elijah, Orlando whacks his elbow on the large clothing cupboard he’s standing beside.
“Uh…”
Orlando bites his lip to contain his annoyance. Here he is, bare-fucking-arsed naked, fumbling around in the dark, his cock so hard he thinks he might pass out from lack of blood to his brain, with Elijah wanting him to think and talk and move all at once. “Well,” he snaps shrewishly, “No offence mate, but there’s no sodding way I’m doing this without a condom. I’ve never not. The thought of it’s kinda scary, you know?” The peevishness in his voice startles him and he clears his throat before saying, more gently, “And I don’t think you want to do this without lube, do you?”
Eyes widening in the thin moonlight, Elijah says, “Oh right.”
“It’s only just I’ve got to remember where I hid that shit. Dom’s always coming over and nicking mine.” Elijah really doesn’t want to think about Orlando and Dominic sharing condoms, or anything else. “So, uhn, you just hang tight, or like, relax. Um, lie back and think of England.” Orlando snickers at his own dumb joke.
Elijah folds his arms behind his head and giggles. “Right. Just fuckin’ hurry up, man.”
“Bugger,” Orlando exclaims with much thumping and banging. “It’s not on, Lij. I need the lamp.” Without waiting for a reply, Orlando shuffles to the desk and clicks the button on the goose-necked book light.
The low wattage of the bulb casts a soft glow in its arc. Elijah’s eyelashes flutter against his cheeks as he hastily grabs a pillow and cradles it to his groin. He casts furtive glances at Orlando--made golden by the lamplight-- and can’t help but feel all the air knocked from his body. Beautiful. Orlando’s beautiful; long limbs and soft skin and lean muscle.
Even the scars and bruises--left by prior run-ins with door knobs and table corners and chair backs and a lifetime of not paying attention to what’s right in front of him--are not enough to detract from the kind of imperfect, real beauty Elijah has never imagined could exist. He watches as Orlando opens drawers and cupboard doors, scratching his head in consternation, all the while his cock bobbing insistently towards his navel.
As if he can feel Elijah’s eyes on him, Orlando turns and gives a distracted, lopsided grin. “God, you’re awfully adorable.” He sighs and then continues to grope around in his sock drawer.
Elijah doesn’t think he’s blushed so much in his entire life. “Yeah, well,” he says, mockingly matter-of-fact. He stares down at the pillow case, picking at imaginary threads. “That’s exactly what I was going for. Why be sexy? Or hot? Or a fucking stud, when you can be,” he spits the word out as if he’s tasted something rotten, “adorable?”
“Ah ha!” Orlando extracts his hand from the jumble of white cotton sport socks and produces a tin of Athlete’s Foot powder. Tilting it up, a small tube and candy colored packets of condoms pour into his open palm. Smiling brighter now, he takes the few steps back to the bed and flops down beside Elijah.
He yanks the pillow away and flings it across the room, his calloused fingers stroking lazily across Elijah’s pelvic bone, teasing the thatch of dark hair. “You are,” Orlando says gently, but sincerely. “You’re all those things. To me.”
Elijah’s eyes flutter closed under Orlando’s close study. He gulps and takes a deep breath, trying to slow down his pounding heart and tell himself this is Orlando. It’s Orli, and he has nothing to be afraid of. He threads his fingers with Orlando’s and slants a sloppy, ill-aimed kiss across his mouth.
Orlando slumps back from their embrace, a goofy smile twitches the corner of his mouth as he snakes his tongue across his own lips, “Mmm, kay.” With jerky, distracted movements, Orlando awkwardly ducks his head to tear open a condom wrapper with his teeth.
“Oh, God. C’mon man.” Elijah runs the back of his hand over his friction swollen lips. “Let me,” he says in a husked whisper. “I mean, can I?” Wide blue eyes stare up at Orlando as Elijah slowly trails his finger-tips across Orlando’s palm, grasping the small rubber sheath cupped there.
“Yeah. Oh, fuck yeah.” Orlando snorts and squeezes lube into his palm, before tossing the bottle aside into the mess of blankets and sheets. He sucks in a breath between his clenched teeth at the first touch of Elijah’s thumb and forefinger on his leaking, rigid length. He leans back, his body arching up to Elijah’s touch, and supports his weight on one arm out-stretched behind him
Brows furrowed in concentration, Elijah’s hands squeeze and shift with a single-minded deliberateness, as he slowly unrolls the condom over Orlando’s steel-rod erection. A self satisfied grin splits Elijah’s face apart as he shifts back on the mattress to admire his handiwork. Orlando’s eyes remain firmly shut as Elijah tickles his finger tips across the thin liquid in Orlando’s palm, then spreading it over his sheathed dick. “Lots of lube, man,” Orlando rasps.
Elijah’s slicked palms slide and squeeze the thin lube over Orlando’s hard cock in a rhythmless stroke that alternates between feather light, and almost too painful to endure. The veins in Orlando’s forearms stand out in stark relief from his tawny skin as he strains against the mattress, struggling against the powerful rush of arousal.
“That’s enough, Lij.” Orlando gruffs, quickly pushing Elijah’s hands aside. A confused, wounded expression clouds Elijah’s eyes, and turns down the corners of his mouth.
Seeing Elijah’s hurt, Orlando reaches forward and tugs on Elijah’s hands, freeing them from where he’d shoved them into his armpits. “Hey now,” he nuzzles his forehead against Elijah’s temple. “If the, erm, rocket launches too early, then there’ll be no landing, eh?”
Elijah snorts a laugh and then slicks his lips against the smooth expanse of Orlando’s throat. “I see your point.” Looking down between their two nude bodies, Elijah shifts and Orlando’s straining cock bobs against his navel. “I also feel it.” The two boys laugh nervously. “So…” Elijah says, rubbing the lube and pre-come stickiness from his fingers onto the sheets.
Orlando reaches across himself and nervously scratches at his shoulder blade. He exhales a long shaking breath and says, “Okay, um, right. Let me just,” he stands up and places tentative hands at Elijah’s hips. “Can you, like, roll over, maybe?”
The heat from Orlando’s fingertips bleeds into Elijah’s skin and crackles across his nerves. “Um, you mean on to my stomach?” His voice is high and breathy, and he swallows hard before twisting to lie with his chest against the cool sheets.
“Yeah. Yes, right.” The tip of Orlando’s tongue appears at the corner of his mouth as he gently shifts and nudges Elijah’s compliant limbs. With much stumbling and faltering and an unfortunate elbow to Orlando’s groin, eventually Elijah clues in and gets to his hands and knees.
Panting and huffing, Orlando rises to his feet. Picking up the pillow he'd earlier tossed aside, Orlando places it on the bed, just below Elijah's hips, and slants his mouth once more across Elijah’s. Drawing away, leaving Elijah slack jawed and panting, Orlando squints and angles his head slightly. With tiny touches to Elijah’s thighs and ankles, and the soles of his feet, he eventually maneuvers the kneeling man in to what he considers the ideal place on the bed. He scooches behind Elijah, his knees making twin depressions in the cheap mattress, as he frames Elijah’s tensed legs with his own. Elijah startles, stifling a yelp at feeling Orlando so close. Surrounding him. The sursur of the soft hair on Orlando’s legs rubbing the sensitive skin of Elijah’s thighs is overwhelming and loud to their ears.
The sensation of Orlando’s cock nudging with determined insistence at his entrance is something beyond description. Yet, it’s not unwelcome. Elijah’s groan shudders through his entire body and fills Orlando’s stroking palms. Sliding his hands up the bunched muscles of Elijah’s sides, Orlando nips playfully at Elijah’s earlobe and whispers, “Relax Lij. Lemme in. Just lemme in.”
Elijah can make no reply. He buries his face in the pillow, bracing his weight with his arms. He’s still slick and wet from Orli’s tongue fucking, and with a low, feral growl, Orlando slips inside him.
The first thrust catches Elijah off guard and his weight shifts forward, knocking the crown of his head into the cinderblock wall. “Yow!” shock and surprise are muffled by the pillow where he's burried his face. The lamp teeters off the edge of the desk and free from the outlet, plunging the room again into darkness.
“Christ, Elijah, mind your head!” Orlando’s own head snaps up, and though a force of will he never knew he possessed he manages to still himself. His hands clutch firmly at Elijah’s hips and right the smaller man to his knees again.
He is sheathed entirely inside Elijah, and can feel the wicked ripple and shift of Elijah’s body. The freight train rumble of impending release is already hurtling though Orlando’s groin and he knows this is going to be faster then he wishes but that there’s nothing he can do about it, now. It’s fucking Elijah. He’s fucking Elijah, and that makes his vision blur and his breath stutter.
Elijah again shifts his weight to his bent elbows and grasps the wadded up sheets in his fists. He grinds his teeth together and experimentally wriggles, feeling his thighs brush Orlando’s. Well, shit. It does hurt. A lot. But behind the stretch and beyond the burn is some thing else. Something dark and trembling, and so fucking good Elijah can’t wait to get beyond the awkward strangeness of this initial hurt, to chase it down and revel in the pure sensation of Orlando fucking him.
Orlando slides a hand across Elijah’s ribs, fingertips smearing the fine sheen of sweat dotting pale skin. “God, Lijah,” his voice is harsh and straining, “You feel so fucking good, man.” His strong hands squeeze reassuringly. “You’re doin’ so good, baby. So good.”
Baby. Elijah always thought terms of endearment were stupid; embarrassing. Of course, that was before he’d ever been on the receiving end of those terms, from anyone. A feeling of warmth and tenderness spreads inside Elijah and makes the discomfort and awkwardness bearable. He breathes heavy through his nose and thinks he should say something back, let Orlando know what such a simple, throw-away phase means to him. Instead he says, “Just fucking move already, man," and then lapses into an incomprehensible litany of profanity and begging, mumbled into the curve of his elbow or face down into the pillow.
Orlando manages a careful, slow thrust, breathing hard and fast through his nose. Elijah slides and ripples around him and in less than a dozen careful, tentative strokes the supernova burst of his orgasm shudders through him and into Elijah.
Orlando slumps onto the arched curve of Elijah’s tensed back, rubbing his cheek against the perspiration-dampened skin, trying to catch his breath. He babbles reassurance and praise, and with great care, withdraws.
Flopping onto his back, and flicking the used condom into the waste basket, Orlando reaches over to draw Elijah to him. “Jesus Lij, you’re still hard!” Orlando exclaims in shock as his arm flops around Elijah’s waist.
“Sorry,” Elijah mumbles in embarrassment against the solidity of Orlando’s shoulder.
Fingers stroking the still straining length of Elijah’s erection, Orlando swipes his mouth across the sweat dampened hair at the boy’s temple. “Don’t be fuckin’ sorry, twat. That’s amazing. We need to take care of you, yeah?” Orlando shifts in the bed, rolling over until he is pressed flush against the length of Elijah’s compact frame.
“It’s okay, Orli,” Elijah is amazed he can formulate words as Orlando’s hand continues to rub against his cock, smearing precome along its length.
“C’mon,” Orlando guides Elijah to the dark cleft between his thighs. “C’mon,” He husks against the sensitive shell of Elijah’s ear. He bucks up, rubbing his satiated penis against Elijah’s groin.
Sparks and stars shock Elijah’s vision behind closed eyes and he can’t help but return the frantic friction. He rubs and thrusts, sliding against sweat and skin, and Orlando’s enthusiastic panting encourages the younger man to climax. With a low groan, threads of come spill out over the golden skin of Orlando’s abdomen. Shaking, Elijah lowers himself off Orlando and back down onto the mess of sheets and blankets.
Usually, after, it’s all Orlando can do to keep his eyes open. But this time, it’s different. This time it’s Elijah. Elijah’s first time. Orlando blinks away his weariness and extends a broad palm to the shallow cup of Elijah’s hip, while lazily raising the other to rub the remnants of Elijah’s come into his own belly. “All right, Lijah?” he husks into the darkness, giving the smooth flesh a gentle squeeze.
Elijah rubs his forearm across his eyes and gives a small, shaky nod. Realizing Orlando probably can’t see it in the darkness, he finally manages to say “Yeah, yeah,” in a stumbling breath. “I just didn’t know...I mean I never thought...” His voice wobbles and he finds himself embarrassingly close to tears.
Rolling to his side, Orlando leans forward and softly mouths at the knot of muscle atop Elijah’s shoulder. “It’ll get better,” he says in a quiet, low voice. “It’ll be better next time, promise.” Orlando’s round British tones are blurry-edged with sleep as he murmurs comfort against the softness of Elijah’s skin.
Next time? Next time! Orlando’d said next time. “Next time?” Elijah reaches to cover Orlando’s stroking fingers with his own, and leans in to the undemanding touch of Orlando’s lips against his jaw.
“Yeah, man. Next time.” Orlando can’t stifle his yawn and he does a sleepy, feline stretch, pulling Elijah closer still. “Maybe you can try fucking me or something.”
Elijah blinks rapidly and swallows, unable to form any kind of verbal response. He clutches tighter at Orlando’s long fingers and nuzzles the strong jaw now breathing distance away from his own. The calm, even puff of Orlando’s slightly beer sour breath against Elijah’s mouth lulls them both into sleep.
* * *
Elijah startles awake, confused and on the verge of panic, not knowing where he is. As wakefulness takes hold, he settles back, realizing he’s safe; in Orlando’s bed. And Orlando is right there. Beside him. He stretches and smiles, opening his eyes. While he is warm and naked underneath the thin dorm-issued sheet, Orlando is fully clothed, lying on top of the sheet, on his side. He’s is, however, pressed along Elijah’s ribcage through the low thread count cotton.
“Mornin’” Orlando smiles, raises his index finger and leans close to Elijah’s face, “Even your eyelashes are fucking beautiful, man,” his whisper a sultry purr.
“What?” Elijah jerks back from the inquisitive finger.
Orlando chuckles and then says, a tone of awe audible, “Your eye lashes. They’re like really really light at the roots and dark at the tips. Like...feathers.” Elijah blinks rapidly, unintentionally highlighting the body part in question. His contacts are sticky and his vision is a little blurry, but he can definitely see the goofy grin on Orlando’s face. “Freak,” Elijah shoves at Orlando’s shoulder.
Orlando just shrugs, his smile even wider, and rolls off the bed. “I’m goin’ for a run. You wanna come?” He roots around in his closet, tugging out a thick hooded sweatshirt. He burrows into it, before sitting at his desk chair to shove on his runners.
Yawning and stretching, Elijah snickers, “Yeah, cause that’s what I wanna do at,” he pauses to look at the bedside clock, “8 fucking a.m. on a Saturday.” He yawns again and sits up.
“Fine, you stay here and do your sleeping beauty thing and I’ll be back in a tick.” Orlando says, chuckling. He pauses at the door, noticing the way Elijah winces, bracing his weight on his forearms. “You sore?” he asks.
A deep pink blush spreads across Elijah’s cheeks and down his neck. He picks at the torn cuticle on his left thumb. “A little,” he shrugs indifferently. “But, it’s okay...” he trails off into an inaudible mumble.
“Hmm?” Orlando crosses the room and perches on the edge of the bed, ducking his head in an attempt to meet Elijah’s hooded gaze.
“Uh..I said, it’s...It’s all right. I...I kinda....I like it.” Elijah has developed a sudden interest in picking at the blanket seam and his entire head is so red it’s almost magenta.
“You like it?” Orlando sits back and takes in the slight frame of the man sitting in his bed.
“Uh, well, um. It, it reminds me. Of what you did to me...of what we did...” Elijah’s voice is quiet and trails off as he lifts his hands to his eyes, attempting to hide his embarrassment.
“Oh,” is the only coherent thought Orlando is capable of. He gently takes Elijah’s hands in his own, tugging them out of the way. “Lij,” he says softly, kissing the plump “O” of Elijah’s mouth. Orlando shifts forward, his arms bracketing Elijah’s waist where the sheets lie in a crumpled bunch.
Elijah’s hands search over the thick fleece surface of Orlando’s sweatshirt, his head tilted back as the slick dark heat of Orlando’s tongue plunges and slides in and out of his mouth. Lost again in the determined exploration of each other’s mouths.
“Yeah, so.” Orlando chuckles and sits up again, running an unsteady hand through his hair.
“So,” Elijah smiles and can’t help the huge yawn that follows. He pushes at Orlando’s thigh with his toes. “Go. Run ‘til ya puke. I’ll be here doing the sleeping beauty thing.” He stretches again, linking his fingers high above his head and giving an appreciative groan before flopping down on the pillows.
“You do that.” Orlando laughs and gives Elijah’s supine form one last appreciative look before heading out the door.
When he hears the snick of the door catching, Elijah takes a pillow and places it over his face, inhaling deeply the sharp warm scent of Orlando. He holds it there for a few minutes, grinning like an idiot but unable to stop himself. He sighs and hugs the pillow to him before finally giving into the pleasant tug of sleep.
* * *
A solid thump and the feeling of being entirely surrounded by warmth next wakes Elijah. He opens his eyes and smiles into laughing brown eyes. “Hey,” he says, voice scratchy with sleep.
“Hiya,” Orlando’s voice is barely more than a whisper and his breath tickles over Elijah’s chapped lips. “M’back. Miss me?” He lowers his mouth to cover Elijah’s, not waiting for a reply.
The kiss is soft and sleepy, and flavored with the mint tang of Orlando’s toothpaste. Elijah can’t help but continue to smile through Orlando’s eager investigation. “Mmm, you’re all sweaty.” Elijah slides his hand along Orlando’s neck before allowing his fingers to tangle in the riot of silken brown hair.
Orlando draws back from the sleepy boy, nose wrinkled in an expression of disgust. “Sorry. Must pong something fierce. I should shower.” He shifts, attempting to disentangle himself from Elijah.
Elijah strengthens his hold at the base of Orlando’s skull and flings a slumber-heavy arm over his narrow waist. “I said MMM! You’re all sweaty.” To illustrate his point Elijah juts his jaw forward and his pink tongue darts out to lave along the rigid tendons of Orlando’s neck.
“Oh.”
“Mmm,” Elijah alternates stroking the smooth skin with his tongue and nipping at it with his teeth. Orlando is moaning and straining to kiss whatever part of Elijah he can reach.
Through his track bottoms, Orlando can feel Elijah’s morning arousal, hard and insistent at his hip. He angles his head to kiss Elijah’s jaw and strokes broad-palmed swipes across the firmness of Elijah’s bare chest, circling the pebbled rise of a nipple. His breath hitches as he feels Elijah press up into him.
“God Lijah, feel what you do to me?” Orlando husks as he strokes his fingers down Elijah’s forearm, groping for his hand. He shutter-shimmies against Elijah’s groin, panting as blunt tipped fingers stroke across his straining erection.
Elijah tilts his hips as his fingers circle the velvet of Orlando’s cock, knuckles brushing against waistband. “Yeah. Oh yeah,” his unskilled fumbling elicits an appreciative, drawn out groan. Licking his lips in aroused concentration, Elijah shifts, and the thin sheet at his waist slips over his thighs and the blunt, thick heat of his cock presses into the concavity of Orlando’s navel.
Orlando slips a long-fingered hand around Elijah’s thigh, securing the smaller boy’s leg at his waist. Elijah’s eyes flare wide in shocked delight at the textured friction of their clashing erections. “Fuck ” He yelps as Orlando huffs a laugh into the straining muscles of his neck. Elijah’s come splatters, warm and pearly, over Orlando’s stomach and waist, darkening the fabric of his sweats. Gasping and bunching the sheets in one hand, Elijah continues to pull and tease at Orlando’s cock with the other.
Running an unsteady hand down Elijah’s chest, Orlando bucks faster into the teasing column of Elijah’s fingers until he too gives into the flash-flood of his climax. Brushing his fingers through the anarchy of Elijah’s hair, Orlando chuckles-- a low smokey sound-- and says, “Guess I really need to shower now, yeah?”
Elijah’s hands slide down the sweat-slick, leanly muscled surface of Orlando’s back. “Mmm hmmm,” is all he can say before he again gives into the delicious pull of sleep.
* * *
When Elijah again surfaces from sleep, Orlando is nowhere to be found. He hauls himself up onto his elbows and blinks in confusion. Squinting, he sees a sheet of loose-leaf propped up on a chemistry book. Written in a large looping scrawl he reads;
Hiya Sleeping Beauty;
If you can haul your lazy arse out of bed before 11:00, meet me at the pool. We’ll do breakfast after I’m done practice.
O.
Elijah wipes a sleepy hand over his eyes and can’t help the cheesy grin causing his cheeks to ache. Okay, Orlando fucking Bloom, wet and in a Speedo? Hells yes Elijah can haul his arse out of bed at--he glares at the alarm clock--10:45.
Dodging puddles, Elijah’s sneaker clad feet pound the slick pavement as he hurtles across campus to the Athletic Center. He screeches to a halt, flinging open the heavy door. The smell of chlorine and sweat hits him full force as he pants and huffs and slows to a walk.
He glances at the clock over he office window and is impressed to note that he’s made it from half awake to fully dressed (in yesterday’s clothes) and to the other side of the campus in eleven minutes.
Self consciously adjusting his scarf, Elijah steps onto the pool deck and cranes his neck. Elijah immediately spots the familiar tall, lanky frame. Unfortunately not clad in a Speedo, but fully clothed in a warm up suit. His hair, glossy black and wet, is clinging to his jacket collar in loose curls. Elijah’s grin erupts full force and he switches to a trot, heading to where Orlando is on the far side of the pool, surrounded by his team mates.
He squelches to a halt upon seeing the heavy lidded, warning glace Orlando shoots him. His high tops squeak on the tiled deck and echo across the broad expanse of the Olympic sized pool. All eyes in the group turn to him, and Elijah smirks and raises his hand in a half-hearted wave. “Uh, hi,” he says, biting his lip.
The other swimmers exchange puzzled looks and shoulder shrugs, before slapping Orlando on the back and dispersing. Once his team mates are gone, Orlando regards Elijah, although his only acknowledgment is the slight lifting of his chin and the soft flutter of his lashes. Shoving his fists deep into the zippered pocket of his track jacket, the tall boy finally says “Hang on Lij, I just gotta get my bag.” And he turns towards the dressing room.
Elijah hugs his arms around himself and tries to puzzle through what just happened. Not that he was expecting Orlando to sweep him into his arms and twirl him in circles of so-happy-I-could-trip-through-a-meadow-full-of-daisies kind of love. But Orlando seemed so...distant. Doubt and fear wage war with uncertainty and embarrassment as Elijah wonders to himself what he’s done wrong; if he’d made all of this into something it isn’t. He keeps his hands shoved beneath his folded arms to keep from gnawing his anxiety into his finger nails. What if Orlando doesn’t come back? Whatifwhatifwhatifwhatif? Seeing the familiar figure appear in the doorway, backpack in hand, does nothing to eliminate that motherfucker Doubt, currently doing the rumba in Elijah’s guts.
With a sheepish smile Orlando mumbles a quiet “Hey Lijah,” before placing a palm flat against Elijah’s lower back and directing him out of the Athletic Center. “I thought we’d go to the diner? We should probably, talk, or whatever,” Orlando reaches into his jacket pocket and extracts a knit cap, tugging it on over his still wet curls. He shortens and slows his pace, waiting for Elijah to reply.
“Sure,” the blue eyed boy says, finally. Elijah keeps his eyes on the gravel pathway in front of him and stubbornly refuses to meet Orlando’s confusion-widened eyes. Talk. We should talk. Or whatever. Fuck.
Orlando shrugs, and in an oddly graceful motion opens the door to his jeep and chucks his pack onto the back seat. Wordlessly, Elijah sinks into the passenger seat and stares out the window while Orlando eases out of the lot.
Neither says a word in the five minutes it takes to drive from campus to the quaint downtown, dotted with mid-nineteenth century buildings. Orlando shoots Elijah questioning glances, but doesn’t want to push things, figuring the slighter boy may be a little freaked out by all that’s happened between them, and so remains quiet. Elijah sits, silently berating himself for being such an idiot; for buying into all the hearts and flowers, and girly shit like hope that last night wasn’t just about a casual fuck.
The two uneasy friends unfold themselves from the jeep, Orlando turning up his collar to the bitter November wind and shuddering a little. Elijah wants desperately to touch Orlando, to have Orlando touch him. But he’s afraid to ask, afraid to just do it and he has no idea why. When did he become this needy, clinging, insecure freak? Just get the fuck over yourself, Elwood..
“I’ve done loads of fucking around, yeah?” Orlando says, finally, cutting into Elijah’s inner-musings. He nudges his shoulder against Elijah’s, guiding him through the glass and chrome doors of the diner.
“Oh yeah?” Elijah tries to be nonchalant, but he hears the squeaking as his voice rises in tone. He’s preparing himself for the kiss off. The thanks, it’s been swell.
“Yeah.” Orlando lopes across the houndstooth tile, shifting into a booth at the back of the restaurant. He casts a sheepish, sidelong glance at Elijah who flops into the seat across the table. “And, and...well...I don’t want that. Anymore.”
Here it comes Elijah thinks. “Uh-huh.” He says, shrugging out of his jacket as Orlando takes menus from the polyester-clad waitress, shoving one across the table.
“Um, what I want, what I mean is...” Orlando smiles blandly at the blond woman filling their coffee cups. “I’ll have the lumberjack special, scrambled with bacon and rye toast. Side of home fries, please.”
“Same.” Elijah smiles his thanks and busies himself with swirling the packets of sugar and cream into his cup, avoiding looking at Orlando.
Orlando scratches his nose nervously, fidgeting and unbuttoning his coat while repeatedly dunking a spoon into his cup. “I mean, I thought maybe you and I, we could, like be together,” he finishes weakly, shrugging in an awkward uncomfortable gesture.
Staring hard at Orlando’s busy hands, Elijah grapples with the meaning of his words. He was prepared for the sting of rejection, but has no idea what to do with this. He shreds his napkin and continues to watch Orlando fidget, and tries to figure out what any of this means.
“Why, Orlando Bloom,” Elijah flutters his eyelashes and affects an expression of exaggerated coquettishness, “Are you asking me to wear your class ring?” He clasps his hands under his chin and sighs dramatically. “Giving me your letter jacket? Are you asking me to go steady?” He’s attempting to joke but can’t help but hang on to the fluttering of hope in the pit of his stomach.
“That’s exactly what I’m asking.” Orlando stares across the melamine surface of the table, fixing Elijah with brown eyes made even wider then usual with frank honesty.
Elijah swallows, opens his mouth, can’t find words and then shuts his mouth. He’s saved from answering right away when the waitress brings their orders. “Okay,” he says softly into his breakfast plate.
Hacking industriously at his pancakes with his knife and fork, then reaching for the syrup, Orlando continues, “I mean I know I’ve gone about this all wrong, and done things all backwards, like, but I really really respect you and I think that maybe if we take the time we could...”
“I said okay.” Elijah swallows a lukewarm mouthful of coffee.
“We could like, maybe go on dates or whatever the fuck and maybe get to know each other...”
“Orlando.”
Flapjacks sufficiently cut into bite size squares and lightly glazed with table syrup, Orlando tackles his scrambled eggs with the edge of his fork. “I just really fucking like being around you, and...”
“Orlando,” Elijah takes his own fork, reaches for Orlando’s plate, spears a neat section of pancake, and stuffs it into Orlando’s mouth. “If you’d shut the fuck up for, like ten seconds, you’d realize I said okay. Yes. I’ll date you. I’ll go out with you. Just you. Nobody else. But you.” Elijah crosses his arms across his chest in triumph at actually getting the boy to stop babbling long enough to listen.
Chewing methodically and swallowing with an audible gulp, Orlando’s expression of shocked surprise melds into an enormous grin. “Boop boop be doo?”
Elijah chokes on his mouthful of eggs. “Wha...?” He snorts and the snort becomes a full blown laugh. “Dude, you’re insane.”
Shrugging and shoveling food into his mouth, Orlando mumbles, “Yeah, so whaddaya gonna do about it?”
Turning his expression towards his meal, Elijah barely whispers, “I really fucking wanna kiss you, man.”
“So,“ Orlando says simply, “Do it.”
Elijah sneaks a glance at his surroundings. Dave, the diner’s cook is in the back at the grill. The bottle-blond waitress is industriously wrapping cutlery in paper napkins at the busing station, and the only other patron--an elderly man--is engrossed in his crossword puzzle and sitting at the counter. Blue eyes flash electric and Elijah braces his palms on the flat table top. He bobs forward and covers Orlando’s broadly grinning mouth with his own. Dropping back onto his side of the booth with an energetic bounce, Elijah sighs melodramatically and says “Man,this is gonna be awesome.”
“Yeah,” Orlando chuckles softly, “it is.” And he leans back across the table to lick a smear of syrup off of Elijah’s impossibly pink bottom lip.
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