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fellowshippers2004-01-19 10:09 am
deleerium.livejournal.com) wrote in fellowshippers2004-01-19 10:09 am
Fic: Polo - Part 1 of 2
Title: Polo
Posted: fellow_shippers
Type: LOTR RPS/Crossover with a tasty young Prince…
Author:![[livejournal.com profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/external/lj-userinfo.gif)
deleerium
Pairing:(Orlando/William, Orlando/Elijah)
Rating: R
Summary: Did you see the pics of Prince William in People magazine? Yes. Exactly. And he’s British. And so’s Orli. So there’s the potential of a connection. Besides, I think the boys need some culture. And polo is very…cultural.
Disclaimer: here
Notes: Super thanks to the world’s best beta,summerfly. Re-posted on author's LJ in Jan 2011 here.
+
“We’re so fuckin’ late.”
“Relax, Lij. There’s no such thing as late to a polo match.” Orlando pushed open the door to the town car and stepped out. He brushed a hand down the front of his forest green sweater over crisp white dress shirt and glanced briefly at the length of his grey dress slacks.
Elijah tripped getting out of the car.
Orlando caught him, tsking, and set him on his feet, brushing him off, hands lingering for longer than necessary on the hard curve of Elijah’s shoulders under gray wool.
Elijah flushed and stepped back. “Knock it off. I’m fine.” He shoved his hands in the back pockets of his own chocolate colored slacks, glancing around.
“Come on, then.” Orlando started off, Elijah following just a step behind, staring.
“Fuck, I thought people only dressed like this in the movies.”
Orlando snapped a hand back and whacked Elijah on the chest. Gently. “Shut it. Someone’ll hear you.”
“Come on, Orli. They’re wearing HATS.”
“It’s England, Lij. Of course they are wearing hats.”
“Oh, right. Look, horses. Cool.”
Orlando glanced over his shoulder, one dark brow raised.
“What?” Elijah shrugged, pulling his hands out of his pockets. “I’m the one who had to be told there were no horses in water polo.”
Orlando snorted and reached out towards Elijah. He stopped half way and settled for a pseudo-manly clap on the shoulder.
This time Elijah rolled his eyes, the smile he was trying to hide twisting his lips into an amused grimace.
They received quite a few stares from the crowd seated on small white chairs and standing in the soft grass along the field. They were, after all, two rather famous faces. However, this was England. An English polo match, to be more precise. And to stop them would have been…well, rude.
Just wasn’t done.
That didn’t prevent the line of paparazzi outside the gates from taking what felt like a thousand pictures as soon as they stepped out of the car.
Ignoring the gradually fading flash-bulbs, Orlando led them up to a roped off section at center field. He flashed a grin at the dark-suited man standing at the entrance to the small area. The man nodded and waved them through.
Orlando walked right up to a nice looking young man, probably fifteen or sixteen years old. They shook hands, murmuring polite greetings, then Orlando turned to Elijah.
“Lij, this is Harry. Harry, Lij.”
Harry raised an eyebrow at Orlando, but turned to hold out a polite hand to Elijah. “Nice to meet you. Seen some of your movies. Hated Flipper. Much prefer you as a hobbit. Do you still have the ring?”
Elijah blinked and shook the young man’s hand. “Thank you…I think. And yes, I still have the ring.”
“Right then. Enjoy the match.” The young man turned back to the field, raising a pair of binoculars to his eyes.
Elijah leaned close to Orlando, his voice low. “Ok. Who’s he, and why are we here again?”
“He, is Harry and um, yes. There. That’s why we’re here.” Orlando pointed to one of the riders on the field.
Elijah followed the point of the long finger. And stared.
Jesus. He’s hot. Look at those arms. Damn.
“Bloody beautiful, isn’t he?” There was a husky lilt to Orlando’s voice.
Elijah could only nod. He finally leaned closer and lowered his voice. “Well, yeah. Who is he?”
Orlando sighed, dropping his chin into the cup of his hand, his eyes going unfocused. “William.”
Elijah knew that look. It usually occurred mere moments before he found himself naked and upended over a couch, alternately cursing and moaning Orlando’s name.
“William?”
Orlando nodded, sighing again.
Elijah looked closer. His brain clicked. Harry. William. Polo. England.
Wait a second…
“Orli, please tell me that’s not Prince William. Like, of England.”
Orlando shrugged. “So what if it is? Used to take the piss out of he and his mates when they were little scrappers, trying to scope the London club scene. Wasn’t until last year that I realized he’d grown up quite…nicely.”
“Nicely. I’d have put it differently.”
“Yes, well. Glad you didn’t.”
They watched, fascinated, as the young man rode up and down the field. In about ten minutes, there was the sound of a whistle and the riders headed off the field, one group heading towards a small crowd at the end of the field for congratulations. William’s team had won.
“Should we go over there and say congratulations?”
“No.”
“Why not?”
“Just…no. We’re waiting here.”
Orlando was right. In about ten minutes, the tall blond man came striding down the inside field, pulling his gloves off with an impatient flick of long fingers, a riding crop tucked under one arm. His black knee-high boots were covered in a fine layer of mud. A small crowd of men and woman trailed behind him.
As he approached, Orlando stood up from one of the small chairs and leaned nonchalantly against a fence post.
William stopped just in front of Orlando, squinting slightly into the hazy sunshine. Orlando had to look up. Elijah stood just behind and to the side of Orlando, staring, his mouth watering.
“Orlando Bloom.”
“Your highness.” Orlando inclined his head slightly. They both ignored the bright flicker of camera flash bulbs as they shook hands politely.
“William. Please.”
“Thank you. William.”
William pulled his riding crop out from under an arm, tapping it absentmindedly on a boot. “Lovely day. Glad you could make it.”
“Indeed. Wonderful to be here. Your team played well.”
William raised one shoulder in an elegant shrug, but Elijah thought he detected the faintest blush of color across the sculpted cheekbones. “Not as well as I’d hoped.”
Damn he’s fuckin’ tall. He’s like…six three, or four or something…
William’s eyes flickered to Elijah, then back to Orlando. He raised one blond brow. “Going to introduce me?”
“Certainly, William. Elijah, this is His Highness, Prince William Arthur Phillip Louis of Wales. William, Elijah Wood.”
The prince stuck out his hand. Elijah gracefully accepted the shake and found his smaller hand swallowed by a bronzed paw. He shivered, but smiled politely. “Good to meet you.”
“Likewise.” William released Elijah’s hand, turning to stare across the grass at the field houses. When he spoke again, his voice was low enough to only carry to Orlando and Elijah. “Between all these lovely people, it will take me at least thirty to get out of these field togs. Too bad, really. Good day, Bloom.”
Orlando nodded. “Good to see you, Your Highness.”
William nodded sharply then turned and walked away without a backward glance, stopping in front of another group in one of the VIP boxes.
“That’s it? Well, that was a fucking disappointment.”
Orlando turned to look sharply at Elijah. Elijah shrugged a shoulder towards the prince, his voice still low. “He’s fucking rude and he acts like he’s got a royal stick up his ass.” Elijah sighed. “Too bad, though. Because he’s fucking gorgeous up close.”
Orlando smothered the snarl at Elijah’s disparaging words, momentarily reassured by Elijah’s obvious attraction. “Well, he’s not as stuck up as he appears. And we’d better scram if we’re going to get there before the rest of the crowd does.”
“Get where?”
Orlando grinned and grabbed Elijah by his upper arm, leading him quickly out of the box and back to the town car. “We have a date with royalty.”
“We…what? You know more of them?”
Orlando rolled his eyes. “No, you git. William’s told us to meet him at the field house in fifteen minutes.”
“Not that I heard.”
“Yes, you did. Field togs means field house. Thirty is thirty minutes, but the “too bad” is really the number two – cutting our time in half. “At least” means he thinks he can get away faster than he says. Got it?”
“I think so. But how the fuck do you know this?”
Orlando grinned. “When he was much, much younger, he worked out a code with his friends for when he thought he could get away from his mum, or the body guards, and where to meet him.”
Elijah snorted. “And I suppose he told you all about this code.”
Orlando winked at Elijah. “Let’s just say he talks…in his sleep.”
Elijah’s mouth fell open. He snapped it closed and frowned at Orlando. “Get real.”
+
“Fifteen minutes, my arse, you impudent puppy.”
Elijah’s eyes nearly popped out of his head at Orlando’s growled words when the prince walked into the locker room at the field house.
William’s eyes flickered to Elijah as he ignored Orlando’s words. He walked calmly into the room, face expressionless as he laid his helmet, gloves and crop down on a bench.
A large man in a dark suit stuck his head in the door. William waved him away. The door shut behind him. With a firm click.
Orlando rolled his eyes and pushed of the locker he’d been leaning on. “He’s fellowship, Willy.” Orlando stopped just in front of William, reaching up to flick a long finger at the collar of the prince’s shirt. “He knows. About me. It’s ok.” Orlando grinned.
William’s face melted into a beautiful smile. He reached for Orlando.
And lifted him off the ground, hugging him and talking non-stop, his formerly modulated, upper-crust voice gone. “Orli! Mate, god damn it to hell, it’s good to see you. Didn’t think you were coming and I’d be stuck with all the stiffs. Thank god you’re here because I was going to thrash Henry if he’d made one more high-and-mighty about father this or father that. Shite.” William set Orlando back on the ground and clasped his shoulders, rubbing those giant paws along the tops, his eyes wandering over the slender form in front of him. “You look fucking great, Orlando.”
Orlando laid a palm flat on William’s chest, leaning ever so slightly closer, the corners of his mouth upturned. “So do you, luv. However…” Orlando leaned very close. Close enough to drag his nose against the princes collar bone. William’s hands tightened on Orlando’s shoulders. He shivered visibly. Orlando pulled back, his nose wrinkling. “You smell like a horse.”
William ruffled his curls. Orlando grinned.
Elijah snorted.
The two men turned to look at him, large hands still on shoulders, palm still pressed against a broad chest, feet and knees touching, William’s boots straddling one of Orlando’s soft loafers. Orlando reached up and touched William lightly on the back of the neck, nudging his head down until he could speak directly into his ear.
A moment of whispering that Elijah didn’t catch.
The prince grinned and look up from under long blond eyelashes at Elijah.
And winked.
Elijah felt himself getting hard. Crap.
The princes smile widened, and he lifted a hand off Orli’s shoulder and towards Elijah. He crooked a long finger at him.
Crap. Crap. Crap. Definitely hard now.
Why do I sense yet another one of Orli’s mad schemes to have “fun”? They had “fun” with Dom and Billy on a regular basis. Then there’d been the “fun” with Ashton Kutcher in LA. Not to mention the incredible “fun” they’d had with that guy from the fast and furious movies…what the hell was his name again? Paul something..
“Uh, I’m not sure…”
“Come here.”
Oh, I’m so fucked.
He’s got a British accent too.
Elijah was helpless against the combined magnetism of a British blond god who, at this moment, almost had his arms around his incredibly good looking British boyfriend.
The bronze paw that had beckoned Elijah slid over the top of one of Elijah’s shoulders, fingers cupping around the curve of his neck to draw him close. Elijah had to grab a handful each of Orlando’s sweater and William’s shirt to stay upright. The two of them this close was almost too much.
“Orlando tells me you’ve a weakness for British accents.” Growled right in his ear.
Yup. I’m fucked.
+
Elijah groaned and opened one eye. He shut it quickly. Way too bright. He breathed deeply and tried again. Yup. Must be at least ten. He rolled his head to the side and winced. He had a crick in his neck. As his vision cleared he sat up slowly and looked around the room.
He was in the living room of his and Orlando’s hotel suite. He was sleeping on the couch. He glanced around. He had a pillow and two blankets, but he didn’t remember getting them.
He blushed. Hard.
He did remember the three of them going to William’s club for a few pints. Then back here to the hotel. He had a vague recollection of wet, licking tongues and hard kisses in the hallway before being shoved into the living room, four hands, two mouths, lots of giggles and poof, his clothes were gone. Elijah moaned at the memory.
They’d prodded, stroked, tickled, licked and teased him until he’d grabbed them both by the hair, jerked their heads up and snarled something about spanking them until they couldn’t walk for a week if they didn’t finish him the fuck off already.
He’d come hard, twisting back against William’s chest, neck arching to the side while sharp teeth scraped up his throat, bronze paws holding his thighs parted wide for Orlando’s head bent between them, mouth lick sucking until Elijah clawed at two shades of tan skin and screamed.
They’d left him in a spent boneless heap on the sofa. It had been Orli who’d fetched the pillow and blankets, brushed back a hunk of damp hair before kissing his temple, laid a soft whisper of affection against his lips and headed towards the bedroom, still wearing his slacks.
Elijah had been just coherent enough to see a taller figure meet Orlando in the doorway, bronze paws sliding down over naked shoulders. Orlando’s arms had twined around the taller neck, lifting up on tip toe, head tilted back, mouth parted in invitation.
Mouths locked, large hands had moved down the slender back, over his ass and lifted. Orlando’s legs twined around muscled thighs then up over hips, locking at the ankle. The blonde god turned slowly, rolling Orlando’s body against the door as he moved into the bedroom, just enough of an angle for Elijah to see the flexing thrust of a pair of hips and hands sliding further down, cupping the firm flesh at the tops of Orlando’s thighs before they disappeared into the dark room.
Elijah glanced across the room. The door was still cracked. He wrapped a blanket around his middle and padded silently to the door, one eye peering into the room.
Orlando lay naked, sprawled face down in the sheets, arms akimbo, legs splayed and tangled in the soft cotton.
Prince William lay curled on his side, also minus his clothes, one giant hand resting on the small of Orlando’s back.
“Come here, Doodle.”
Elijah started at the soft whisper from Orlando’s prone form. He frowned. It always amazed him how Orli knew when he was around. He padded into the room and crouched next to the bed on Orlando’s side. One bleary brown eye smiled at him. A hand snaked out from under the pillows and stroked knuckles down the side of his face. “Sorry about the couch, luv.”
Elijah shrugged. Come on. He’d given up his bed for a fuckin’ Prince. A prince with amazing hands. Big fuckin’ deal. “No worries.”
Orlando thumbed Elijah’s lower lip, then pulled it gently towards the bed.
Elijah obliged him with a soft, silent good morning kiss. “Hm…I’ll see about ordering break…”
There was a pounding on the door of the suite. Both of their eyes widened.
“Fuck. I’ll get it.” Elijah sprang up and hobbled across the room, throwing one end of the blanket over a shoulder. He stumbled towards the door and looked out the peek hole.
“Fuck.” It was Dom and Billy, looking a little worse for wear.
“Open up you two, we know you’re in there.”
“Yeah. Put some damn clothes on and open the fuckin’ door.”
Elijah yanked open the door with a hiss. “Shh…come on in. I was just…going to order room service.”
“’Bout fuckin’ time you woke…oh, ‘Lij. No.” Billy stared in horror at the couch.
Dom’s gaze followed his. He cursed and grabbed Elijah by the shoulders. “Did ya’ fight?”
“No, I…”
“Where is he? Do we have ta kill him?”
“No, dammit, I…”
“Why’d the shyster kick you out of bed? His narrow ass should have been on the couch if there was someone being kicked out of…”
“Shutup, both of you. Lij and I didn’t have a row.” Orlando walked through the bedroom doorway, shutting it firmly behind him. His loose cotton pants fluttered as he crossed the room and wrapped long arms around Elijah’s shoulders, pulling him back against his chest. Elijah bent his head and kissed a narrow wrist.
Billy and Dom frowned. “Then why the fuck did he sleep on the couch?”
Elijah and Orlando shared a look. Elijah nodded and turned to look back at Dom and Billy. “We had company.”
Billy and Dom visibly relaxed, grinning. Company would explain Lij on the couch. When they had fun, they always had to leave him wherever he came. He was usually asleep within seconds. He could be persuaded to wake up within ten minutes or so, but the second time, he was out for the rest of the night.
“Oh. That explains it, then. What kind of company?” Dom started sidling towards the closed bedroom door.
Orlando released Elijah and stepped quickly in front of him. “No. Not this time.”
Billy’s eyebrows shot up. “What do you mean? You’ve always let us have a peek. Who is it? That lovely Collin lad? Or maybe that beautiful piece of flesh from, what’s it, the queer show.”
“No. And don’t’ ask.” Orlando rolled his eyes and tried to guide Dom away from the door. Dom was persistent, laughing as he pushed against Orlando. “Why won’t you tell us, Orli? Who’ve you got in there, the Prince of Wales?”
Elijah couldn’t help the small gasp as he shot Orlando a look. Orlando made an annoyed slicing motion with his hand.
Dom’s mouth fell open.
Billy guffawed. “Oh, you can’t be serious. He’s all wretched lookin’ an old enough to be your Da. That's disgustin’.”
Dom stared thoughtfully between Elijah and Orlando. “No. But his oldest son is rather beautiful, isn’t he. And Orli here used to run with him in his club days, didn’t you?”
Orlando’s lips thinned. “Can we talk about this later?”
Billy’s eyes widened. He stared at Elijah, then Orlando. “Jesus, Mary and Joseph.”
Dom’s mouth pursed, one hand on his hip, the other pointing an accusing finger at Orlando. “You shagged the Prince, you bastard.”
Orlando huffed, crossing his arms over his chest. “No, I did not shag the prince.”
Billy gasped, one hand clapped over his mouth, his eyes wide with disbelief. “He fucked you?”
Orlando blushed. “Shh…he’s sleeping.”
Elijah’s eyes widened. “You let…him…fuck you?”
Orlando’s head snapped around to Elijah’s. “Um…”
“You never let me fuck you.”
There was a heart beat of silence. When Orlando spoke, his voice was husky. “You never asked, Doodle.”
Elijah felt heat race through his body. Let me fuck you, Orli. “Oh.”
“Excuse me, where can I. Oh, good morning, gentlemen. Lijah, where can a chap get a decent cup of coffee around here?” William stood in the doorway clad only in a pair of loose jeans.
Elijah and Orlando jumped when they heard the twin thuds onto the carpet.
“Oh, my. Looks like we’ll need some smelling salts as well. Shall I ring room service?” William smiled pleasantly at Elijah and Orlando.
Who promptly burst into laughter.
END
Posted: fellow_shippers
Type: LOTR RPS/Crossover with a tasty young Prince…
Author:
deleeriumPairing:(Orlando/William, Orlando/Elijah)
Rating: R
Summary: Did you see the pics of Prince William in People magazine? Yes. Exactly. And he’s British. And so’s Orli. So there’s the potential of a connection. Besides, I think the boys need some culture. And polo is very…cultural.
Disclaimer: here
Notes: Super thanks to the world’s best beta,
summerfly. Re-posted on author's LJ in Jan 2011 here.+
“We’re so fuckin’ late.”
“Relax, Lij. There’s no such thing as late to a polo match.” Orlando pushed open the door to the town car and stepped out. He brushed a hand down the front of his forest green sweater over crisp white dress shirt and glanced briefly at the length of his grey dress slacks.
Elijah tripped getting out of the car.
Orlando caught him, tsking, and set him on his feet, brushing him off, hands lingering for longer than necessary on the hard curve of Elijah’s shoulders under gray wool.
Elijah flushed and stepped back. “Knock it off. I’m fine.” He shoved his hands in the back pockets of his own chocolate colored slacks, glancing around.
“Come on, then.” Orlando started off, Elijah following just a step behind, staring.
“Fuck, I thought people only dressed like this in the movies.”
Orlando snapped a hand back and whacked Elijah on the chest. Gently. “Shut it. Someone’ll hear you.”
“Come on, Orli. They’re wearing HATS.”
“It’s England, Lij. Of course they are wearing hats.”
“Oh, right. Look, horses. Cool.”
Orlando glanced over his shoulder, one dark brow raised.
“What?” Elijah shrugged, pulling his hands out of his pockets. “I’m the one who had to be told there were no horses in water polo.”
Orlando snorted and reached out towards Elijah. He stopped half way and settled for a pseudo-manly clap on the shoulder.
This time Elijah rolled his eyes, the smile he was trying to hide twisting his lips into an amused grimace.
They received quite a few stares from the crowd seated on small white chairs and standing in the soft grass along the field. They were, after all, two rather famous faces. However, this was England. An English polo match, to be more precise. And to stop them would have been…well, rude.
Just wasn’t done.
That didn’t prevent the line of paparazzi outside the gates from taking what felt like a thousand pictures as soon as they stepped out of the car.
Ignoring the gradually fading flash-bulbs, Orlando led them up to a roped off section at center field. He flashed a grin at the dark-suited man standing at the entrance to the small area. The man nodded and waved them through.
Orlando walked right up to a nice looking young man, probably fifteen or sixteen years old. They shook hands, murmuring polite greetings, then Orlando turned to Elijah.
“Lij, this is Harry. Harry, Lij.”
Harry raised an eyebrow at Orlando, but turned to hold out a polite hand to Elijah. “Nice to meet you. Seen some of your movies. Hated Flipper. Much prefer you as a hobbit. Do you still have the ring?”
Elijah blinked and shook the young man’s hand. “Thank you…I think. And yes, I still have the ring.”
“Right then. Enjoy the match.” The young man turned back to the field, raising a pair of binoculars to his eyes.
Elijah leaned close to Orlando, his voice low. “Ok. Who’s he, and why are we here again?”
“He, is Harry and um, yes. There. That’s why we’re here.” Orlando pointed to one of the riders on the field.
Elijah followed the point of the long finger. And stared.
Jesus. He’s hot. Look at those arms. Damn.
“Bloody beautiful, isn’t he?” There was a husky lilt to Orlando’s voice.
Elijah could only nod. He finally leaned closer and lowered his voice. “Well, yeah. Who is he?”
Orlando sighed, dropping his chin into the cup of his hand, his eyes going unfocused. “William.”
Elijah knew that look. It usually occurred mere moments before he found himself naked and upended over a couch, alternately cursing and moaning Orlando’s name.
“William?”
Orlando nodded, sighing again.
Elijah looked closer. His brain clicked. Harry. William. Polo. England.
Wait a second…
“Orli, please tell me that’s not Prince William. Like, of England.”
Orlando shrugged. “So what if it is? Used to take the piss out of he and his mates when they were little scrappers, trying to scope the London club scene. Wasn’t until last year that I realized he’d grown up quite…nicely.”
“Nicely. I’d have put it differently.”
“Yes, well. Glad you didn’t.”
They watched, fascinated, as the young man rode up and down the field. In about ten minutes, there was the sound of a whistle and the riders headed off the field, one group heading towards a small crowd at the end of the field for congratulations. William’s team had won.
“Should we go over there and say congratulations?”
“No.”
“Why not?”
“Just…no. We’re waiting here.”
Orlando was right. In about ten minutes, the tall blond man came striding down the inside field, pulling his gloves off with an impatient flick of long fingers, a riding crop tucked under one arm. His black knee-high boots were covered in a fine layer of mud. A small crowd of men and woman trailed behind him.
As he approached, Orlando stood up from one of the small chairs and leaned nonchalantly against a fence post.
William stopped just in front of Orlando, squinting slightly into the hazy sunshine. Orlando had to look up. Elijah stood just behind and to the side of Orlando, staring, his mouth watering.
“Orlando Bloom.”
“Your highness.” Orlando inclined his head slightly. They both ignored the bright flicker of camera flash bulbs as they shook hands politely.
“William. Please.”
“Thank you. William.”
William pulled his riding crop out from under an arm, tapping it absentmindedly on a boot. “Lovely day. Glad you could make it.”
“Indeed. Wonderful to be here. Your team played well.”
William raised one shoulder in an elegant shrug, but Elijah thought he detected the faintest blush of color across the sculpted cheekbones. “Not as well as I’d hoped.”
Damn he’s fuckin’ tall. He’s like…six three, or four or something…
William’s eyes flickered to Elijah, then back to Orlando. He raised one blond brow. “Going to introduce me?”
“Certainly, William. Elijah, this is His Highness, Prince William Arthur Phillip Louis of Wales. William, Elijah Wood.”
The prince stuck out his hand. Elijah gracefully accepted the shake and found his smaller hand swallowed by a bronzed paw. He shivered, but smiled politely. “Good to meet you.”
“Likewise.” William released Elijah’s hand, turning to stare across the grass at the field houses. When he spoke again, his voice was low enough to only carry to Orlando and Elijah. “Between all these lovely people, it will take me at least thirty to get out of these field togs. Too bad, really. Good day, Bloom.”
Orlando nodded. “Good to see you, Your Highness.”
William nodded sharply then turned and walked away without a backward glance, stopping in front of another group in one of the VIP boxes.
“That’s it? Well, that was a fucking disappointment.”
Orlando turned to look sharply at Elijah. Elijah shrugged a shoulder towards the prince, his voice still low. “He’s fucking rude and he acts like he’s got a royal stick up his ass.” Elijah sighed. “Too bad, though. Because he’s fucking gorgeous up close.”
Orlando smothered the snarl at Elijah’s disparaging words, momentarily reassured by Elijah’s obvious attraction. “Well, he’s not as stuck up as he appears. And we’d better scram if we’re going to get there before the rest of the crowd does.”
“Get where?”
Orlando grinned and grabbed Elijah by his upper arm, leading him quickly out of the box and back to the town car. “We have a date with royalty.”
“We…what? You know more of them?”
Orlando rolled his eyes. “No, you git. William’s told us to meet him at the field house in fifteen minutes.”
“Not that I heard.”
“Yes, you did. Field togs means field house. Thirty is thirty minutes, but the “too bad” is really the number two – cutting our time in half. “At least” means he thinks he can get away faster than he says. Got it?”
“I think so. But how the fuck do you know this?”
Orlando grinned. “When he was much, much younger, he worked out a code with his friends for when he thought he could get away from his mum, or the body guards, and where to meet him.”
Elijah snorted. “And I suppose he told you all about this code.”
Orlando winked at Elijah. “Let’s just say he talks…in his sleep.”
Elijah’s mouth fell open. He snapped it closed and frowned at Orlando. “Get real.”
+
“Fifteen minutes, my arse, you impudent puppy.”
Elijah’s eyes nearly popped out of his head at Orlando’s growled words when the prince walked into the locker room at the field house.
William’s eyes flickered to Elijah as he ignored Orlando’s words. He walked calmly into the room, face expressionless as he laid his helmet, gloves and crop down on a bench.
A large man in a dark suit stuck his head in the door. William waved him away. The door shut behind him. With a firm click.
Orlando rolled his eyes and pushed of the locker he’d been leaning on. “He’s fellowship, Willy.” Orlando stopped just in front of William, reaching up to flick a long finger at the collar of the prince’s shirt. “He knows. About me. It’s ok.” Orlando grinned.
William’s face melted into a beautiful smile. He reached for Orlando.
And lifted him off the ground, hugging him and talking non-stop, his formerly modulated, upper-crust voice gone. “Orli! Mate, god damn it to hell, it’s good to see you. Didn’t think you were coming and I’d be stuck with all the stiffs. Thank god you’re here because I was going to thrash Henry if he’d made one more high-and-mighty about father this or father that. Shite.” William set Orlando back on the ground and clasped his shoulders, rubbing those giant paws along the tops, his eyes wandering over the slender form in front of him. “You look fucking great, Orlando.”
Orlando laid a palm flat on William’s chest, leaning ever so slightly closer, the corners of his mouth upturned. “So do you, luv. However…” Orlando leaned very close. Close enough to drag his nose against the princes collar bone. William’s hands tightened on Orlando’s shoulders. He shivered visibly. Orlando pulled back, his nose wrinkling. “You smell like a horse.”
William ruffled his curls. Orlando grinned.
Elijah snorted.
The two men turned to look at him, large hands still on shoulders, palm still pressed against a broad chest, feet and knees touching, William’s boots straddling one of Orlando’s soft loafers. Orlando reached up and touched William lightly on the back of the neck, nudging his head down until he could speak directly into his ear.
A moment of whispering that Elijah didn’t catch.
The prince grinned and look up from under long blond eyelashes at Elijah.
And winked.
Elijah felt himself getting hard. Crap.
The princes smile widened, and he lifted a hand off Orli’s shoulder and towards Elijah. He crooked a long finger at him.
Crap. Crap. Crap. Definitely hard now.
Why do I sense yet another one of Orli’s mad schemes to have “fun”? They had “fun” with Dom and Billy on a regular basis. Then there’d been the “fun” with Ashton Kutcher in LA. Not to mention the incredible “fun” they’d had with that guy from the fast and furious movies…what the hell was his name again? Paul something..
“Uh, I’m not sure…”
“Come here.”
Oh, I’m so fucked.
He’s got a British accent too.
Elijah was helpless against the combined magnetism of a British blond god who, at this moment, almost had his arms around his incredibly good looking British boyfriend.
The bronze paw that had beckoned Elijah slid over the top of one of Elijah’s shoulders, fingers cupping around the curve of his neck to draw him close. Elijah had to grab a handful each of Orlando’s sweater and William’s shirt to stay upright. The two of them this close was almost too much.
“Orlando tells me you’ve a weakness for British accents.” Growled right in his ear.
Yup. I’m fucked.
+
Elijah groaned and opened one eye. He shut it quickly. Way too bright. He breathed deeply and tried again. Yup. Must be at least ten. He rolled his head to the side and winced. He had a crick in his neck. As his vision cleared he sat up slowly and looked around the room.
He was in the living room of his and Orlando’s hotel suite. He was sleeping on the couch. He glanced around. He had a pillow and two blankets, but he didn’t remember getting them.
He blushed. Hard.
He did remember the three of them going to William’s club for a few pints. Then back here to the hotel. He had a vague recollection of wet, licking tongues and hard kisses in the hallway before being shoved into the living room, four hands, two mouths, lots of giggles and poof, his clothes were gone. Elijah moaned at the memory.
They’d prodded, stroked, tickled, licked and teased him until he’d grabbed them both by the hair, jerked their heads up and snarled something about spanking them until they couldn’t walk for a week if they didn’t finish him the fuck off already.
He’d come hard, twisting back against William’s chest, neck arching to the side while sharp teeth scraped up his throat, bronze paws holding his thighs parted wide for Orlando’s head bent between them, mouth lick sucking until Elijah clawed at two shades of tan skin and screamed.
They’d left him in a spent boneless heap on the sofa. It had been Orli who’d fetched the pillow and blankets, brushed back a hunk of damp hair before kissing his temple, laid a soft whisper of affection against his lips and headed towards the bedroom, still wearing his slacks.
Elijah had been just coherent enough to see a taller figure meet Orlando in the doorway, bronze paws sliding down over naked shoulders. Orlando’s arms had twined around the taller neck, lifting up on tip toe, head tilted back, mouth parted in invitation.
Mouths locked, large hands had moved down the slender back, over his ass and lifted. Orlando’s legs twined around muscled thighs then up over hips, locking at the ankle. The blonde god turned slowly, rolling Orlando’s body against the door as he moved into the bedroom, just enough of an angle for Elijah to see the flexing thrust of a pair of hips and hands sliding further down, cupping the firm flesh at the tops of Orlando’s thighs before they disappeared into the dark room.
Elijah glanced across the room. The door was still cracked. He wrapped a blanket around his middle and padded silently to the door, one eye peering into the room.
Orlando lay naked, sprawled face down in the sheets, arms akimbo, legs splayed and tangled in the soft cotton.
Prince William lay curled on his side, also minus his clothes, one giant hand resting on the small of Orlando’s back.
“Come here, Doodle.”
Elijah started at the soft whisper from Orlando’s prone form. He frowned. It always amazed him how Orli knew when he was around. He padded into the room and crouched next to the bed on Orlando’s side. One bleary brown eye smiled at him. A hand snaked out from under the pillows and stroked knuckles down the side of his face. “Sorry about the couch, luv.”
Elijah shrugged. Come on. He’d given up his bed for a fuckin’ Prince. A prince with amazing hands. Big fuckin’ deal. “No worries.”
Orlando thumbed Elijah’s lower lip, then pulled it gently towards the bed.
Elijah obliged him with a soft, silent good morning kiss. “Hm…I’ll see about ordering break…”
There was a pounding on the door of the suite. Both of their eyes widened.
“Fuck. I’ll get it.” Elijah sprang up and hobbled across the room, throwing one end of the blanket over a shoulder. He stumbled towards the door and looked out the peek hole.
“Fuck.” It was Dom and Billy, looking a little worse for wear.
“Open up you two, we know you’re in there.”
“Yeah. Put some damn clothes on and open the fuckin’ door.”
Elijah yanked open the door with a hiss. “Shh…come on in. I was just…going to order room service.”
“’Bout fuckin’ time you woke…oh, ‘Lij. No.” Billy stared in horror at the couch.
Dom’s gaze followed his. He cursed and grabbed Elijah by the shoulders. “Did ya’ fight?”
“No, I…”
“Where is he? Do we have ta kill him?”
“No, dammit, I…”
“Why’d the shyster kick you out of bed? His narrow ass should have been on the couch if there was someone being kicked out of…”
“Shutup, both of you. Lij and I didn’t have a row.” Orlando walked through the bedroom doorway, shutting it firmly behind him. His loose cotton pants fluttered as he crossed the room and wrapped long arms around Elijah’s shoulders, pulling him back against his chest. Elijah bent his head and kissed a narrow wrist.
Billy and Dom frowned. “Then why the fuck did he sleep on the couch?”
Elijah and Orlando shared a look. Elijah nodded and turned to look back at Dom and Billy. “We had company.”
Billy and Dom visibly relaxed, grinning. Company would explain Lij on the couch. When they had fun, they always had to leave him wherever he came. He was usually asleep within seconds. He could be persuaded to wake up within ten minutes or so, but the second time, he was out for the rest of the night.
“Oh. That explains it, then. What kind of company?” Dom started sidling towards the closed bedroom door.
Orlando released Elijah and stepped quickly in front of him. “No. Not this time.”
Billy’s eyebrows shot up. “What do you mean? You’ve always let us have a peek. Who is it? That lovely Collin lad? Or maybe that beautiful piece of flesh from, what’s it, the queer show.”
“No. And don’t’ ask.” Orlando rolled his eyes and tried to guide Dom away from the door. Dom was persistent, laughing as he pushed against Orlando. “Why won’t you tell us, Orli? Who’ve you got in there, the Prince of Wales?”
Elijah couldn’t help the small gasp as he shot Orlando a look. Orlando made an annoyed slicing motion with his hand.
Dom’s mouth fell open.
Billy guffawed. “Oh, you can’t be serious. He’s all wretched lookin’ an old enough to be your Da. That's disgustin’.”
Dom stared thoughtfully between Elijah and Orlando. “No. But his oldest son is rather beautiful, isn’t he. And Orli here used to run with him in his club days, didn’t you?”
Orlando’s lips thinned. “Can we talk about this later?”
Billy’s eyes widened. He stared at Elijah, then Orlando. “Jesus, Mary and Joseph.”
Dom’s mouth pursed, one hand on his hip, the other pointing an accusing finger at Orlando. “You shagged the Prince, you bastard.”
Orlando huffed, crossing his arms over his chest. “No, I did not shag the prince.”
Billy gasped, one hand clapped over his mouth, his eyes wide with disbelief. “He fucked you?”
Orlando blushed. “Shh…he’s sleeping.”
Elijah’s eyes widened. “You let…him…fuck you?”
Orlando’s head snapped around to Elijah’s. “Um…”
“You never let me fuck you.”
There was a heart beat of silence. When Orlando spoke, his voice was husky. “You never asked, Doodle.”
Elijah felt heat race through his body. Let me fuck you, Orli. “Oh.”
“Excuse me, where can I. Oh, good morning, gentlemen. Lijah, where can a chap get a decent cup of coffee around here?” William stood in the doorway clad only in a pair of loose jeans.
Elijah and Orlando jumped when they heard the twin thuds onto the carpet.
“Oh, my. Looks like we’ll need some smelling salts as well. Shall I ring room service?” William smiled pleasantly at Elijah and Orlando.
Who promptly burst into laughter.
END