Fic: Party Animal 19/? Karl/Orlando - R

[http://users.livejournal.com/nixxie_/]

Title: Party Animal 19/?
Author: Nixxie + Chelle
Pairing: Karl/Orlando
Rating: R - NC17
Archive: Beyond the Fellowship and http://www.livejournal.com/users/nixxie_/
E-mail addresses for feedback: nix@nixxie.co.uk + seans_muse@hotmail.com
Disclaimers: If PJ ever threw a party like this we’re sure Orlando and Karl never did this…though if they did why weren’t we given invites?
Warnings: Real Person Slash – meaning these are based on real people, whether they really do this stuff is up to them... but if they want to share I’d not say no to a nice seat nearby and a bucket of popcorn.
Authors notes: This is written as part of a RPG. Orlando belongs to Chelle and Karl belongs to Nixxie. The POV changes from one to the other. Written in third person with thoughts as ‘//...//’ And emphasis as ‘*…*’



‘Ah you're turning up the heat
When I start to dream aloud
See you move your hands and feet
Won't you step into this cloud of steam.’
Peter Gabriel: Steam.


Karl sat, knelt up, found bedside glass and pressed clear liquid to Orlando’s lips, soothed the aching larynx, calmed the screamed out chords. “Come on then lovely, lets get you showered and tucked up in bed beside me where you belong now.” Karl stood, legs hurting and knees sore and scooped Orlando into his arms. “Besides I’m sure you don’t really want to be sitting on that pretty arse of yours quite yet.”

Karl carried the limp form into the large bathroom, prodded the shower door open with his foot and let the Elf slip gently to his feet, bracing him against the wall, holding him up and twisting the powerful flow on with his elbow.

Letting the water sluice over them as he held Orlando close he relaxed a little, his partner looked tired beyond belief with eyes wide and dark. Karl pressed a soothing kiss to creased forehead, “It’s okay my tired one we’ll soon have you all snuggled up in bed next to me, just need to wash you, make sure I didn’t hurt you okay?” Karl’s fingers found shower gel, rubbed into hair and over chest and shoulders, he turned the tired body round and let him lean gently against the shower wall. Karl’s fingers dived over plains, soothed knots away and released tension. Then his head next to ear whispered, “I just need to check I didn’t harm you. I’ll try not to upset you.” And fingers slipped deeper, into crevice. He braced Orlando’s back, calming fingers over scars, crouched down and gelled fingers and searching eyes sought tears or rips, never entering, never hurting, just soothing, making sure. But they found only soreness, only tender aches.

Returning to ear Karl smiled, “You’re fine, just sore tonight, you’ll be better come morning. Though I don’t think you’ll want to sit down much tomorrow.” Karl turned the weary young man around, held him close and breathed deep, then pulled back a little, held face in hands and gazed with such tenderness as to almost adoration. Then kisses rained as water washed, kissed over lips and cheek, reassuring, relaxing, soothing. Comforting.

~~~~~~

Orlando followed mutely, let Urban carry him and stand him up and
wash him and take care of him, eyes feeling glazed. Feeling glazed
all over. Tired, tired, tired, tired, tired... tired... He let the
water wash over him, let Urban's voice slide across his skin.

And Orlando thought it was strange,

Strange... how different Urban was.

The thought sank in slowly, as Orlando licked drops of water from his
lips and Urban's arms closed warm around him, warmer than the water.
Orlando puzzled at it fuzzily -- couldn't get his mind around it. It
was different, *Urban* was different.

But Orlando couldn't understand why, not really. Because, really,
Orlando just wanted to crawl in bed and sleep, that was all. And if
it was hard to breathe when Urban pulled away--

If, in the instant Urban's arms slipped away, Orlando's throat
tightened and his jaw clenched,

and if, when Urban's fingertips rested again on Orlando's face and
Urban was kissing him again gently, water warm over them both and
running down Orlando's face and over his shoulders, if only then
could Orlando breathe again--

Well, then, blame the breathing on exhaustion, and call the fear a
fear of slipping -- call it fear of falling.

~~~~~~

He turned them around, let Orlando stand on his own for a moment as he washed his own hair quickly, washed the sweat and grime away, washed the scent of sex down the drain though he wished he could wear it for longer as a gesture. //Scents mixed, I’ve Fucked this one, steer clear!//

And rinsing suds from dark locks and tanned skin he looked upon his new lover, his new toy and winnings and knew he would never let this one go. This one was his now. All his. He’d never let him hurt, never do anything that wasn’t wanted. But he knew he had the power to make this one want. To make him ache and burn and need and smoulder for again. //Till morning’s light my lover. Rest I shall grant you but only rest till then. Then the dance shall start afresh.//

//And all bets are off.//

Karl pulled weary Orlando from the shower, bundled him in big white fluffiness and carried him gently back to the bed, depositing him on it and pulling the towel off, drying legs and arms and chest and hair. The young man had not said a word since pulling off, since Karl felt a piece of him tearing away. This worried Karl a little, putting it mainly down to over-tiredness but what worried him more were the feelings he was having. Caring as he towelled off between toes. Soothing as Karl wrapped the damp towel around himself to stop the shivering as he tucked the young man under soft sheets with a kiss. Relaxing as he finally found time to dry himself, to keep the chill at bay before dropping the soaked towel into the basket. And what bordered on exaltation as he crawled into the bed next to Orlando, pulled covers over and pulled him back against him, one arm wrapped around stomach, the other around chest, keeping safe, keeping warm.

And what he could not deny was craving as bodies pressed together in naked weariness.

“Sleep My lovely Princeling, my prize, my One. Sleep now and we will talk in the morning” And a kiss on bare neck was followed by blissful slumber.

~~~~~~

Orlando stretched one arm up sleepily, cradled his head in the crook
of his elbow, ignoring the pillow. His other hand found Urban's on
his stomach. Fingers laced, tightened. He felt Urban's breathing
slow, felt the steady warmth of Urban's chest against his back, of
Urban's legs tangled with his legs.

Talk in the morning.

Orlando swallowed back the taste of bile. Talk in the morning? Oh,
Orlando'd *had* that talk before, thanks. The "this is just a casual
fuck" talk; the "you were great, but let's keep this under wraps"
talk. Hell, Orlando'd *given* that talk before. You work on a show
somewhere, you pick up a girl. Or three. Or four. And you tell
every one of them how *fantastic* they were, but that, darling, we
just *can't* be a couple right now.

Orlando didn't want to hear it.

...it wasn't a big deal. No. It didn't bother him.

Of course not. He'd be fucked if it *bothered* him! Splitting up
after a shag, bother Orlando Goddamn Bloom? No chance. This was
just a one-night-stand, a fucking *bet,* for Christ's sake!

Orlando stared into the dark, traced the outlines of walls and floor
through the grey-black of night. Listened, for a long time, to
Urban's breathing, and to Urban's heartbeat.

Not bothered. Right. He just... didn't want to have the damn talk,
that's all.

It wasn't long before Orlando dropped into sleep, but, with Urban's
arms around him and Urban's face nuzzled into the back of Orlando's
neck, it felt like forever.


tbc…