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fellowshippers2006-10-06 12:11 am
v-angelique.livejournal.com) wrote in fellowshippers2006-10-06 12:11 am
Fic: Five Times
Title: Five Times
Author: Viktoria Angelique
Pairing: DM/OB
Rating: R
Disclaimer: So clearly untrue.
Summary: I wrote a fic once called "Ten Times," which was Dom/Lijah, and so this is a Dom/Orlando, sort of in the same style but not really. I tried a couple of things here: second person and just letting my long, rambling sentences go ahead. This may annoy you, or it may not. I have no idea.
The first time, it was pretty fucking simple.
"You like guys?"
"Yeah, do you?"
"Yeah. Fancy a shag?"
"Sure."
"All right then."
The second time it was a little more complicated, if only because you were popping so many free pills you might as well have been mainlining ecstacy, and the taste of the sweat at the dip to the inside of his shoulder will remain an imprint on your brain until the end of time. It was fast, hard, fucking beautiful in a transcendental way and your leg bent up on the wall of the stall and the loo didn't even seem all that dirty to your clouded judgement.
"You all right?" he asked, the next day, courtesy or genuine concern you will never know.
"Yeah."
Third time wasn't desperate at all, and you had the time to take. He stood with his arse against Viggo's dresser and a beer bottle dangling casually from his hand, a silver tie knotted around his neck and his hair artfully tousled, arranged as if to obscure the shape of his ears. You didn't necessarily like that, and so you bit, pointedly, at the curve of an ear, your tongue prodding the shell, and his hands went tight in your hair and the beer bottle dropped and stained Viggo's cream coloured carpet and you sank to your knees and he started praying.
There wasn't even going to be a fourth time, shouldn't have been, but he gave you this fucking sexy look that didn't make sense from such a mismatched set of features that somehow made a composite that was the most beautiful face you'd ever seen, subjectively speaking, of course. And you followed him. Followed him all the way to his fucking house, and didn't even mind when he called you pretty and stroked your lips and your ego with his fingers and then the head of his cock, leaking all pearly and translucent as your tongue darted out to taste. His cock was larger than you might imagine, and you couldn't stop thinking about its exact shape and weight when time number five came up, the most daring yet, ten people around a crowded table at a pub and you ended up with your hand on his crotch through tight denim, stroking, pressing, until he came in his jeans with a hard bite down on his thumb that actually made blood well to the surface and for one crazy moment you fantasised about licking it up and sucking on the cut and coming without ever being touched.
Author: Viktoria Angelique
Pairing: DM/OB
Rating: R
Disclaimer: So clearly untrue.
Summary: I wrote a fic once called "Ten Times," which was Dom/Lijah, and so this is a Dom/Orlando, sort of in the same style but not really. I tried a couple of things here: second person and just letting my long, rambling sentences go ahead. This may annoy you, or it may not. I have no idea.
The first time, it was pretty fucking simple.
"You like guys?"
"Yeah, do you?"
"Yeah. Fancy a shag?"
"Sure."
"All right then."
The second time it was a little more complicated, if only because you were popping so many free pills you might as well have been mainlining ecstacy, and the taste of the sweat at the dip to the inside of his shoulder will remain an imprint on your brain until the end of time. It was fast, hard, fucking beautiful in a transcendental way and your leg bent up on the wall of the stall and the loo didn't even seem all that dirty to your clouded judgement.
"You all right?" he asked, the next day, courtesy or genuine concern you will never know.
"Yeah."
Third time wasn't desperate at all, and you had the time to take. He stood with his arse against Viggo's dresser and a beer bottle dangling casually from his hand, a silver tie knotted around his neck and his hair artfully tousled, arranged as if to obscure the shape of his ears. You didn't necessarily like that, and so you bit, pointedly, at the curve of an ear, your tongue prodding the shell, and his hands went tight in your hair and the beer bottle dropped and stained Viggo's cream coloured carpet and you sank to your knees and he started praying.
There wasn't even going to be a fourth time, shouldn't have been, but he gave you this fucking sexy look that didn't make sense from such a mismatched set of features that somehow made a composite that was the most beautiful face you'd ever seen, subjectively speaking, of course. And you followed him. Followed him all the way to his fucking house, and didn't even mind when he called you pretty and stroked your lips and your ego with his fingers and then the head of his cock, leaking all pearly and translucent as your tongue darted out to taste. His cock was larger than you might imagine, and you couldn't stop thinking about its exact shape and weight when time number five came up, the most daring yet, ten people around a crowded table at a pub and you ended up with your hand on his crotch through tight denim, stroking, pressing, until he came in his jeans with a hard bite down on his thumb that actually made blood well to the surface and for one crazy moment you fantasised about licking it up and sucking on the cut and coming without ever being touched.