tmihily (tmihily) wrote in ficrocksthe80s, @ 2007-10-31 08:39:00 |
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Current mood: | lazy |
"Let's Go To Bed," Bean/Bloom
Title: Let's Go To Bed
Author: tmihily (Hilary)
Pairing/Categories: Bean/Bloom + some Viggo
Feedback: please
Warnings: none, unless you have a voyeurism squick
Disclaimers: I do realize this is not real. I also do not know either of these guys and I never once believed they're actually shagging, and neither should you.
Notes: for ficrocksthe80s; my song was The Cure, "Let's Go To Bed" -- lyrics are there. Sort of gacked from that video that went around a while back of the two guys kissing while their friends watched and laughed.
"You wouldn't do it," Viggo taunted, watching Orlando and Sean over the mouth of his beer bottle. "Not even you are that much of a thrillseeker," he added even as Orlando was opening his mouth to protest, annoyed.
"Oi, that's not fair," Orlando bitched, lobbing a pillow at Viggo and a look at Sean. He was laughing--they all were, even Astin--but there was a tinge to the way Viggo was watching him. "I would do it," Orlando went on, rubbing a hand over his short, short hair, and Viggo grinned his massive grin and shook his head while Elijah snorted and laughed, a little too drunk even for this, though the next day he'd wonder what the hell he missed when everyone was looking at each other funny. "I totally would!"
But Viggo was shaking his head, and Billy and Dom were getting up and dragging Lij with them. "Don't hurt yourself, kids," Elijah muttered, looking sleepily between them and then at Astin, and Astin made an oh, is that my cue? face and stood up, tucking his mostly-full beer bottle carefully into the trash.
"Oh, see? Now--look," Orlando sputtered, miffed that the party was breaking up. "You've driven them all off, way to go." He grabbed another bottle just for spite and cracked into it.
"I'm still here," Viggo countered lazily, leaning back onto an elbow, his other hand resting on his stomach, scratching idly. He was on the floor, watching Orlando the way a cat would stare at the motes in a sunbeam, as though trying to decide if they're something to be played with or just left alone because they're sparkly without any help.
Orlando suspected Viggo already knew, though, and he didn't like being played.
"Alright then," Orlando said decisively, sitting up at once.
Sean looked startled, sputtering out a laugh. "Don't I have a say in this?" he asked, shaking his head. "Given it's my mouth going to be involved?"
"No," Viggo said. "Well--sure. It's one minute, though, or be branded a pussy forever. Take it or leave it."
Orlando didn't much care for the way Sean was looking at him now; it looked like sympathy, and that just galvanized him.
"I'll take it," he said, voice brash even through the thickness the beer brought with it.
"Now wait," Sean said. "Viggo, you know I don't give a shit about any of this--"
"Then go ahead," Viggo murmured, gesturing toward Orlando. "Orlando wants to, don't you?"
Orlando himself would never have gone so far as calling it "wanting to," but there was definitely a half-blitzed appeal to not being called a pussy forever, even if Viggo was the only one who was interested in this little game. Besides, he was exactly that much of a thrillseeker, and this was something already giving him that deep, scary feeling in his gut. The best part was he could do it with the beer sloshing around in his head and not be dead in the morning, like, say, with skydiving. In a way, he convinced himself a little blearily, this was even better.
"Come on, then," he beckoned to Sean, and yeah, it was a bit gratifying to see confident, sexually-assured Sean looking at Viggo with something like I'm going to kick your ass for this later. "One minute," Orlando reminded, and Viggo tilted his wrist with that same catlike laziness, checking the secondhand and nodding.
"Whenever you're ready," Viggo drawled, but Orlando was already doing it, leaning into Sean's space and kissing him. At first, there was no response, and through Orlando's triphammer giddiness that there wouldn't be any declarations of "pussy" pertaining to him anytime soon, he was aware that Sean wasn't responding. Orlando was going after it, meager acting-school reminders floating around in the background, but Sean just wasn't...doing...anything.
Oi, he thought, annoyed, s'like kissing a scared girl, and he was just about to pull back--gender aside, kissing someone whose mouth was utterly slack and uninviting was just gross, and he couldn't be responsible for a whole minute when Sean was deliberately making it an unpleasant endeavor, right?--when Sean suddenly woke up, tensing under Orlando's hands and kissing back with a vengeance, mouth almost eating him back.
Through the steamy essence of beer and cigarettes, Orlando realized somehow that it was a whole lot easier to pretend to enjoy this when Sean wasn't lying there like a dead fish, but there was more to it. Orlando had half-expected to be counting seconds in his head, waiting for this to be over, and he considered doing it even though he had no idea how long remained. It wasn't nearly as difficult as all that, though, and frankly, Orlando wasn't sure he could count at the moment.
Suddenly, though, everything changed and Orlando's world tilted sideways: somehow Sean had clamped a hand behind Orlando's nape and was licking his way past Orlando's lips. Orlando could feel his face flushing impossibly hot, and it seemed as though he'd slide right off the couch to the floor if Sean hadn't been keeping him there. Only just biting back a moan--that wouldn't do, oh my God no--Orlando floundered for what seemed like forever, tongue, that's his tongue, should I do that too or is that more than just the kind of kissing you do on a dare? fuck, is it supposed to feel this good or am I just a fucking drunk pussy after all, wanting to moan into Sean's mouth like he's--got--fuck...
Tearing himself away with a wet gasp, Orlando wiped his mouth with the heel of his hand. "Come on," he tried to growl, "that's got to be a minute by now!"
Viggo was watching Orlando's face steadily, and it looked to Orlando like his breathing was just too steady, too even. Just as Orlando was about to kick him or threaten him, Viggo dropped his gaze to his watch, eyes all catlike again. "Oops," he murmured. "Yeah. It was."
"Oh--you--fucker!" Orlando spluttered, grabbing for his beer. "There, you've had your jollies, I'm going home." Something in the back of his brain told him he was taking this too seriously, reading too much into it, but his embarrassment had such an ugly, keen edge to it, and Christ, Viggo and Sean were going to laugh at him next day. It wouldn't be taunts of "pussy!" but it would be bad enough.
"Oh, now," Sean began, struggling to stand. "It was all in fun, Orlando." Orlando shot him a death glare, so he backed off, hands raised in concession as he looked at Viggo uncertainly. Viggo just looked amused.
"Right. Whatever." Orlando jerked his jacket on and clunked his beer down onto the nearest horizontal surface. As he stalked out, he hoped neither of them had noticed that he never did finish his beer, and just thinking about it made him flush. He wasn't sure he'd wanted to, not right then, because he realized a couple things at once: one of them being the fact that he was hard (obviously the beer wasn't helping with that) and the other actually being that he didn't particularly want to wash the taste of Sean out of his mouth.
Orlando went home, showered, shaved, brushed his teeth, and rinsed with mouthwash. Twice. For spite.
It was a few days before Sean approached Orlando at all, which gave Orlando a bit of satisfaction. He realized the morning after that really, he'd overreacted a bit. Surely it had been all in fun, right? There hadn't been anything deliberately tricky in the way Viggo'd been watching, after all. Viggo always looked a bit like he was about to eat you up. And Sean had been drunker than Orlando, and everybody knew that Sean couldn't calculate two plus two with pints under his belt, never mind something that was deliberately intended to trick someone.
Still...Orlando suspected he'd dreamed about that kiss more than once, about how Sean's mouth, warm and firm and amazingly eager, had slid so perfectly against his own, tongue reaching in to find Orlando's, long-fingered hand keeping Orlando steady, right there....
Sean's approach shook Orlando out of it, and Orlando found himself acutely glad for Legolas's voluminous robes and the cold, cold weather just then. Even so, he expected makeup to be along to fix the flush that Orlando was determined to blame on the wind.
"Want to come over for a pint after?" Sean greeted, hand casual on his sword hilt. "Bit of takeaway?"
Alright then, Sean wasn't about to go apologizing for anything, which was fine. "Sure," Orlando answered, grinning, and since he figured the subject was worth picking at with a few days' distance, his stupid mouth went on, "you going to liquor me up and snog me again? I see what you're about."
Sean laughed easily, but there was something in his eyes Orlando wasn't keen on. It looked like wariness. "Brat. You know that was a lark, and it was all Viggo."
"Right. Well, it wasn't 'all Viggo' when your tongue was down my throat. Like licking an ashtray, as they say. Not the most pleasant way to be initiated. You could've thought of that before you agreed to let 'all Viggo' prod you into a dare, professional courtesy and whatnot."
Christ, why was he still talking? Sean's eyes went a bit cooler, the friendly, joshing smile fading inside even though it remained fixed on his face.
"Right," Sean said, and he looked away, Boromir's hair picked up by the wind and briefly obscuring his face. "Well, come by after. No snogging, don't worry." And he walked away.
Oh, shit, Orlando thought, creasing the makeup between Legolas's brows. Now I've gone and pissed him off. But there was nothing to be done about it then. Places were being called, and it would just have to wait 'til the shoot wrapped for the day.
~ ~ ~ ~
Even though Sean always had plenty of beer, Orlando decided to show up with his own. Sort of a peace offering, since he'd gone and shot off his mouth.
"Hi," Sean said as he opened the door, stepping back and heading for his little kitchen. Viggo was standing in there, and Orlando offered a wave before looking around.
"No one else here, then?" he asked, closing the door behind him.
"Nope," Viggo replied. "Wouldn't work when there's a chance I could get a free show otherwise." He grinned that lewd grin, all teeth.
Sean shot him an ugly look. "Leave off," he muttered, handing Orlando a plate. "That was a bad idea from start to finish."
Orlando could see that Viggo was biting his tongue, watching Sean almost speculatively as they took up their food and bottles. He couldn't make anything of it, though, and he supposed it wasn't his job to. God only knew what these two kept for secret jokes.
Thank God there was the food for a distraction, and that was all Orlando wanted. This weirdness about the dare could go away any time and he didn't think he'd mind; he just wanted to sit and drink and relax in a warm place for a while.
But the drinking got to be the instigator of the problem again, just as it had been that night. One beer turned into four, and then Orlando was leaning on Sean, all of them laughing at a stupid joke Viggo'd made.
Tamping out his cigarette, Sean shook his head at Viggo's twisted sense of humor. "You're a sick fuck," he groused.
"And that's news how?" Viggo replied lazily from his spot on the floor.
"'tisn't," Orlando grinned, and the slur was only barely noticeable, he thought. He'd managed to shove himself right up against Sean's shoulder, and he realized that their positioning mirrored that of the night of the kiss, as did the sleepy, inquisitive look on Viggo's face. "Oi," he added, frowning, "d'you always have to look like you're planning world domination? What's going on in that head?"
"You don't want to know," Sean and Viggo said at once, and laughed.
"Actually," Viggo corrected, the words slow and thoughtful as he leaned back onto his elbows and crossed his legs, "I was thinking about how sexy it was to watch you and Sean kiss that one night."
"Viggo, goddammit." All of Sean's good nature seemed to have drained away at once, and Orlando looked at him, startled. "Let it go."
But Viggo never let anything go; everyone knew that. "Why? You liked it. He liked it. Didn't you, Orlando?"
Face hot, Orlando finished his beer in one go, trying to ameliorate the queasy sense of being set up by getting just a bit more drunk. He was opening his mouth to speak when Sean cut in, tone arid, "'It was like licking an ashtray.'"
Viggo chuckled. "Oh, bullshit. He liked it just fine, it was all over him."
"I'm in the fuckin' room," Orlando pointed out testily.
"Well then, tell us." Viggo tipped his beer up and finished it, setting it on the coffee table. "Did you, or did you not?"
"Thought it was just a dare--who gives a shit anyway?"
"Sean does," Viggo replied smoothly, and Sean scowled, folding his arms over his chest.
"Well, what difference?" Orlando asked, staring at Sean, and what popped into his head was that he didn't care if Sean didn't, but he couldn't say that. Maybe it wasn't even true. "I only did it because I'd never hear the fuckin' end of it if I didn't--now I'm never gonna hear the fuckin' end of it that I did?"
"Yeah," Sean murmured, staring down at his beer bottle. "Apparently."
Orlando swallowed. This was looking more and more like something it couldn't possibly be. Could it? And if he did like that kiss, which he was starting to think he did, really, then what the hell was that going to do to him? Or Sean? Or their friendship? It was as though all of Orlando's thoughts were, directly for spite, coalescing against him.
But what was killing him wasn't the sarcastically amused expression Viggo was giving, and it wasn't the dim nervousness that he'd end up confirming Sean and Viggo's taunting that Legolas was really, at heart, a big poof.
It was the look on Sean's face: confused, stung, bullied and tired at once. And Orlando knew at once that Viggo had been behind everything, but also that it had never been about giving Orlando shit at all. I won't say it if you won't say it first, he thought, but he knew he had to.
"I liked it," he finally blurted, if for no reason than to make that look go away. At Sean's disbelieving glower, Orlando turned toward him on the couch, one hand on Sean's knee. "No, I did. It was...weird, but not...fuck, Sean, we're mates, and I've never kissed a bloke before, and Viggo was watching, but it's not like I disagree with it or anything. I was drunk. I don't mean I liked it just because I was drunk!" he hurried to add at another one of Sean's little glares. I dreamed about it, he thought, but he sure as fuck wasn't about to say that.
"Christ, you talk a lot," Sean groused, standing up to get himself another beer.
"I know." Orlando let out a moan, dropping his head into his hands. "Shut up, Viggo," he threw in pre-emptively.
"What? I didn't say anything."
"Course you didn't." Sean returned to his seat, a fresh beer for Orlando (as though he needed another) and one for himself, and he'd left Viggo out on purpose.
But Orlando was dying to know what Sean could make of everything he'd said, and he nudged Sean's shoulder. "Well?"
"Well, what?" Sean still looked unhappy, and Orlando couldn't stand it.
"Well, aren't you going to say anything?"
Sean looked at Orlando and then Viggo, who watched back blandly. At once he was turning toward Orlando and grabbing him, both of those big, long hands cupping Orlando's face and pulling him forward, and before Orlando could so much as squeak, Sean's mouth was fixed to his. Licking, sucking, Sean tilted his head to get the angle better and then just proceeded to devour Orlando's mouth.
Orlando, God help him, moaned just like he'd struggled against the first time. He would've sworn in court that it was a protesting moan, a moan meant to sound like get-off-me or what-the-fuck-are-you-on-about, but really it came out sounding more like oh-my-fuck-don't-stop. And Sean didn't stop, didn't seem to have any intention of stopping any time this month. The idea that Viggo was watching calm but brazen from his spot on the floor had dropped away, too. Everything in the world had turned into Sean's mouth: cigarettes, beer, stubble and the scent of aftershave. Somehow, Orlando's hands had found their way up to Sean's shoulders, and he was clinging. Pulling. He had no idea what any of this meant, only he knew that stopping would be bad because things would go back to the way they were, and that could only be bad. He could see that this burgeoning lust and the sudden capacity to crawl into Sean's lap and continue to get eaten alive--it was crazy, but he knew he wouldn't feel if Sean didn't. He wouldn't want it if Sean didn't.
Sean's hands went around Orlando's back, pulling him closer. This was insane, but sanity seemed pretty immaterial when Orlando was achingly hard in his jeans and he'd just discovered he could grind against Sean's stomach. It embarrassed him a bit, but he couldn't stop; it felt so fucking good. Sean moaned roughly, tongue plunging into Orlando's mouth over and over, hands dropping down to cup and squeeze Orlando's arse.
And then it was over. Orlando belted out a soft, open-mouthed cry against Sean's lips, shuddered hard and came in his jeans, hands tight on Sean's upper arms. "Ohfuck," he gasped, hot-faced and humiliated, and he dropped his head to Sean's shoulder to hide for a minute, turning away.
"Viggo," Sean said quietly. "Get out."
Orlando moaned again at that, this time a wholly distressed sound. He'd completely forgotten about Viggo, and he could only imagine the smirk. He didn't move, was almost afraid to breathe until he heard the door open and then snick shut.
"What," he finally started, and then he had to wet his mouth. "What was that, exactly? What just happened? If this is some game--"
"No, shh." Sean rested his hands on Orlando's shoulders to push him back a bit. "It wasn't a game. It was never a game. It was because I--shite." He sighed, looking over Orlando's face and reaching up to pet his short, short hair. "If you don't want to speak of it again, I'll understand."
Well of course Sean would, and Orlando didn't miss the fact that he'd dodged most of the question. "This was on purpose," he accused softly. "You did this on purpose. Viggo set this all up just so you--why?"
"Because I want you," Sean sighed. "It was stupid, I know. 'M sorry."
Orlando considered accepting the apology and going home, but that would imply that Sean should be sorry for kissing Orlando into an orgasm. Sure, he could've done without Viggo sitting there watching like the perv everyone knew he was, but really, had it been so bad?
Had it been bad at all?
"Well," Orlando sighed in return, looking away, "I s'pose...I should change. And...before I do that, I should...maybe do something for you?" His face went hot again.
"Do something?" Sean asked, sounding shell-shocked. It almost came out like a laugh.
"Yeah. You know, with..." Orlando can't bear to look at Sean now, thanks to the rush of flattered confusion driving his words. "We could...you know, not leave off just yet."
"Right," Sean sighed, long-suffering. "Let's go to bed." His voice didn't drip sarcasm so much as sprayed it everywhere.
"I'm serious!" Orlando countered, annoyed now. He raised his eyes to Sean's face. "I'm trying to--you know, this wasn't easy for me, none of this was, and I still feel like I got played like fucking footie for Viggo's amusement. I'm trying to tell you I liked it and I like you, so don't you go all drama-queen on me now that I'm offering you what you fucking well want. Yes, I'm telling you, let's go to bed."
Once Sean was done staring (and then kissing Orlando senseless some more), Orlando discovered that Sean's room was neat as a pin and dark, even with the moonlight coming through the windows, and his bed was firm and cool. He also discovered that when Sean wasn't glaring at Viggo for giving everything away, he was as confident and considerate as Orlando had always thought he was.
It was easier, somehow, to kiss like this. Orlando could reach more of Sean, and Sean felt good to him, skin warm and taut, all that muscle underneath flexing as Sean moved. It was easy, too, to take off his shirt and let Sean shift down, kissing over his chest, and in spite of his embarrassment at the come congealing in his underwear, he even let Sean take his jeans off.
But Orlando had never been passive in bed, so the instant he was naked, he scrambled up and over Sean, pressing him to the bed to kiss him again. It was a bit weird, sure, but more because it was Sean than it was because Sean was a man. For those reasons, it was better, too. Orlando pulled Sean's shirt off himself, skimming his hands over that broad chest. His eyes caught Sean's in the dimness, and the look there made his breath catch: Sean looked entranced and shocked, both, and that made Orlando feel a bit embarrassed that he'd been such a dolt. He bent down to kiss Sean again and let Sean roll them back over.
"Don't worry," Sean said as he settled his jean-clad hips between Orlando's thighs, "we won't go all the way." He opened his mouth again as if to add something, but then went quiet in favor of kissing Orlando once more.
In response, Orlando reassured Sean by reaching down between them to get into his jeans. Sure, he was still tipsy, and that made him brave, but he'd never believed in that old crap that pints made you do things you wouldn't. They only made you do things you were too fucking scared to do sober. In this case, he could only see that as a good thing.
And Sean--fuck, Sean was so hard, he'd been waiting all night for this. Moaning in sympathy, Orlando wrapped his hand around the shaft, startled by how hot it felt.
"Nnngh--Orlando," Sean hitched out, nuzzling into Orlando's neck and licking. "Don't tease. Anything but that."
"Not teasing," Orlando argued softly, nudging his face to the side so he could get another kiss. He worked Sean's cock; this was familiar, even if the angle wasn't (and even if Sean's cock was quite a bit bigger than his own once fully hard, and that Orlando would tease him for later, how much of a grower Sean was). Just the way Sean's expression went slack and open was a bit incredible, as were the soft, helpless noises coming out of his mouth. Orlando really was turning Sean utterly inside out, and that made him feel humbled and elevated, both.
"Just a bit more, don't stop," Sean moaned, and now he was the one clinging as if Orlando would abruptly get out of the bed. Moved, Orlando wrapped his other arm tight around Sean, kissing him hungrily, stroking a bit faster. Sean ground downward, pushing his cock into Orlando's hand, and then he came with a rough cry, cock pulsing over Orlando's stomach.
Sean braced himself over Orlando, kissing him hard even as he worked to catch his breath. "Christ," he whispered, immediately sliding down to nuzzle Orlando's chest, then his stomach, glancing up at Orlando before slowly licking at the come pooled there.
"Oh," Orlando breathed, hands very carefully still on the mattress. He could almost get hard again in spite of the alcohol, and definitely in spite of how strange all of this had been, and he supposed Sean would encourage that. But once Sean finished and moved back up again, Orlando was content to just...be held. That was new, too, being held by someone bigger than he was. It felt pretty good. Sean felt good.
"What now?" he asked softly, staring up toward the black ceiling and idly playing his fingers through the hair at Sean's nape.
"I dunno," Sean whispered back, nuzzling Orlando's shoulder. "I hadn't got anywhere past 'let's go to bed.'"
-end-