Posted: August 2004
Title: Something
Author: Helena Snow-Renn
Type: RPS
Characters: David Wenham / Orlando Bloom
Rating: NC-17
Disclaimer: As always, this is fiction. It never happened.
Warnings: You might squick over Dave's impression of Orlando's mouth
Summary: Neither is looking, but they find each other anyway. Sort of. Or do they?
Author's Notes: My bunny didn't include a title. This is all that came to mind, at this minute. If anyone gets any lightning bolts to the brain, please pass it along. This story is supposed to tweak more than your sex drive. Hopefully you'll like the whole thought process.

*****

Chapter 1

I. David

David speculates about being lost. Is he? He feels adrift. How do these others handle it, being on the outside like that? When he looks around at the select actors and actresses he mentally refers to as the ‘outsiders,' the red-headed Aussie has to wonder why he doesn't just hook up with one of them. They're certainly not an unattractive bunch. But his heart is not in it, though he strives to make sure no one is privy to the fact. Weapons training in the early a.m., serious acting in the day and early evening, riding lessons whenever they can squeeze them in…it helps to keep busy at all costs.

The older crowd just seems too venerable for him to break into, so David resigns himself to hanging with the kids despite being years older. Night after night, he tags along for the endless parade of pub-crawling and clubbing. He plays big brother and DD more often than not. Thankfully, though, not always. After some weeks, David grows to look forward to the nights when he can let down his and Faramir's collective hair and drink and dance till all hours.

On these occasions, only the Elf Orlando can keep up with him for the duration. Dave considers himself the scruffy, clumsy outback rat next to such a cultured (when he chooses to be) southern-English classically-trained gem-in-the-rough. That does not stop him from gladly accepting the impromptu partner after the hobbits have passed out for the night. Dave never notices his own grace, which grows more fluid the more he drinks, or his own squinty drawing power. But Orlando does. He leaves the hunt till after the halfway point each time they go out, which means they never dance till all other options are under the table or gone. And then…

Late on Dave's ‘on' nights, it is always the techno clubs they proceed to. After Elijah falls and Dom and Billy, Orlando comes ‘round to him and holds out his hand. This happens perhaps four or five times before Dave realizes he's beginning to expect it, and that if Orlando didn't come for him in those early morning hours, he'd be as lost as he feels most days.

In the thump of heavy bass, miasma of backbeat, and the swirling electronica effects they meld together, two lean, striking loners who prowl after each other never at all, or only in this context. They grind up against each other; leather, silk, and latex clothing sliding as it will with sweaty skin, always on some dance floor somewhere, never alone. While hands and legs and hips move and flow freely, sensuality unashamedly expressed and pressed together, their eyes and faces remain averted. David is conscious of this too, aware he is purposeful in this minute separation. He wants an ‘in' alright. Just not this one. But he is content to get off on this beautiful man as his dance partner for a while.

It is the same for Orli, that is obvious. What is so futilely ridiculous is they are flaunting themselves together to the same unbreakable pair who is rarely seen out. Their audience is empty, or mental. Yes, mental. The scenario plays out a dozen times before Dave realizes his resolve was wavering, just before he realizes he has a resolve at all when it comes to Orlando. And by then it's already too late to stop.

Once he consents to the first peek into the startlingly intense black eyes, there was no going back. Painfully hard flesh rising from his rhythmically swaying hips only confirma it. Orlando possesses a pair of dusky, pliable lips that David's drunken mind connotates with an asshole, which are right in his face. He doesn't think of these semblances as insult. Oh, no. A pulsating, puckered, tight but all-too-able-to-be-stretched little asshole/mouth…such insane permutations. An answering surge from Orli's concealed prick makes David zone out for a million years to thoughts of invading both ends of the elf's body.

II. Orlando

It takes Orlando all of ten minutes to figure David out. A simple, straight-forward man; warm-hearted but slightly moody, not at home with the hierarchy. Orlando's own early days here had been like that. He'd wound up with a stupid haircut over it. What would the other man take home, other than the nickname that made him cringe and blush: "Little Brother?"

Never really consciously thinking about it or deciding on a course of action, Orlando is more than happy to let the seas of happenstance toss him for a while. His time limit is not as truncated as the redhead's, obviously. Though the man's eyes constantly move and search, it's never directed at him. Lord, he knows that sentiment all too well. He will take and provide company. Gladly. If he can.

When the ‘hobbits-and-Orli' get themselves a new escort, the Brit is shocked and secretly delighted. Orlando himself finally volunteers to give li'l-bro-turned-big-bro a night off from his chaperone role. So, he smokes, and he drinks soda, and he watches. Smack! He is smacked across the face and upside the head by the man's appeal. Shy and wolfish at the same time, rangy shades of checked aggression hidden behind a profusion of rubber-faced one-liners—all Dave's paradoxical characteristics are just fine by Orlando. Very fine. He likes the underscored danger of such a man. The Aussie's not quite as young as he seems, Orli judges. Fine lines radiate from his eyes just like those of the… never mind. With enough guilt and loneliness-driven wildness to fuck him into the ground if unleashed, Dave, he's quite sure, must be as fiery as his hair. And that mouth. With such a honey of a mouth, he has to know exactly what to do with it. And the ass. Orlando might have tiny sleek hips, but Dave has the ass to end all asses. Orli perceives that, in every physical regard, his eyes have only just opened. But, characteristically, he keeps his cool, doesn't let his guard down.

The Aussie proves better able to hold his liquor than the American boy, the German, even the Scot. How fortunate. At least still something better happens, if it does, Orlando doesn't have to end his nights as the only one not passed out. He can do what he was born to do: dance. Dance his ass off. Dance his heart out. He has enough experience under his belt, he sees the same transformation wrought in Dave. Orli might have offered the first opportunity, but from there, it's all equal.

Their rhythms work together perfectly. When it comes to dancing, they instinctively sense the other's lead. The pair of them move like sylphs. They do things neither would ever consider during daylight hours, faces too close together, touches lingering too long. Orlando finds himself crooking one long leg or David's hip, pulling them tight together for rhythm and friction. Or he gets behind the redhead, presses his inevitable hard-on into the back of his thigh, and reaches around front to toy with his love line. Never the nipples, never the cock, just the few inches of v-patterned hair below the older man's little indent of a navel. Little by little, Orlando comes to understand he's pushing Dave's limits, pushing for reaction. The man's hot breath on his neck, or his hand, or the steady throb of blood in his erection, is never more than chimera. Orli would have an end, something real; he would see it done.

III. David

Four-something a.m., a particularly long and bassy trance, and eight or ten beers later, Dave gives in to temptation and simply turns his head. Lips meet skin and then the lips of the other man, lips that caress and bite back. Soft and warm, a tentative tongue follows and then it gets forceful. Dave feels muffled Orli-whimpers in his ear like little fuck-noises.

He comes to on the way to the men's room, a grinning Orlando in tow. Dave never thought he'd be given to this kind of behavior, but there he is. His own black clothing opens just enough for the necessary access; Orli writhes before him, half-naked in the stall, making more of those noises, smooth boyflesh gleaming under fluorescent lights. Dave's body, which hasn't had sex with another person in weeks, uncoils an inch at a time. The Brit begs him harder, faster, then comes in his hand in hot, sticky bursts. Dave's fingers claw into the jutting hipbones, holding Orlando where he wants him while he drives home those feigned rhythmic plays from the more public spectrum. His orgasm hits like something high on the Richter scale and nearly suffocates him; then they curl over the walls as he holds himself up, and onto his drunken sanity. ‘Oh shit. What have I done?'

IV. David/Orlando

The next day, Orlando says nothing about it, neither with his comely mouth, nor with anything resembling body language. David expects the ‘hey, we had sex in the men's room last night, so now we're an item' runaround. But no. Orlando is either astute or detached enough to know better than approach him like that. David wonders how he's gotten so lucky.

Next time they go out, Orlando goes off by himself without a word, but at last when it's nearly closing time, there he is. It has to be nearly sunrise outside as Orlando stands before his chosen in black leather and mesh, long-fingered, be-ringed hand held out. Dom, who appropriated David most of the evening and still on his feet, glares at the pair. Watching them play off each other for the past few weeks had gotten his blood hot for David, too. Orlando, he'd been through it with already from front to back before the Aussie ever set foot in N.Z.

With one protracted look to spare at the younger hobbit, Dave's long form rises and ambles with his typical unconscious sultriness after Orlando, into the smoke and flashing red lights. How interesting. Now it is he that is hooked, chasing haphazardly after the lithe, laughing Brit. Their dancing is no longer denial; it's more like foreplay. They know where this is going now, at least one more time.

*****

Chapter 2

Summary/Notes: In chapter one, we had the bathroom sex. Now they go home. This story takes place the weekend after the last, and starts
at the bar again, as they dance...

They'd been going on like this a good two hours. Orlando's skin smelled faintly of the cologne he always wore, but what Dave craved was a taste. A rivulet of sweat was sliding down from behind the golden boy's ear, over the flickering pulse on the side of his neck. Not interrupting their slow grind, Dave bent his head and caught the salty bead on the tip of his tongue. Orlando closed his eyes and dropped his head back. His throat curved in a graceful arch. Dave wanted to mark that so damn badly. It wouldn't do for him to mark his lover here though; instead, he settled for laving every bit of sweat from Orlando's neck, till he was licking and sucking it from the very pores it sprang from. Both men shook from the effort to hold back their mutual attack till they were somewhere private.

"Let's go," purred Orlando's urgent, slightly husky voice into Dave's right ear. The brown-eyed man threw one slim arm around the Aussie's neck while the other shifted position from his waist down to his ass. Never breaking rhythm, Orlando moved his hips quite unsubtly, letting Dave feel the state he'd worked himself into. Already there, cock aching within the tight confines of those damn leather pants he let himself be talked into, Dave widened his stance to allow Orlando to straddle his leg and hump against him.

"Where?" Dave asked. He pulled up the hem of Orlando's shirt in front and laid his left hand flat against the taut, sweaty stomach. Orlando's own leathers fit dangerously low-riding. Dave had to suppress a groan when he looked down and saw the sun tattoo and the little round navel both winking at him.

"My house," Orlando replied immediately.

"Far?"

"No; we could run, even. ‘S only a few blocks."

Run? Dave had doubts about even walking right, between the alcohol and the fact that he's so hard it hurt. He'd heard that expression thrown around overly much, but in this case, he really did. Remembering Orlando's response last time only made it worse, as did the hands-on knowledge of the bulge angling to the left of a… for fuck's sake!... lace-up fly.

Once again, he came to on the way off the dance floor; this time Orlando was pulling him along. They were nearly to the front door. David had not said a word about yes or no, not really, but ‘no' was a zillion miles from his mind.

On the early a.m. streets they were just two tired night-clubbers making their way home. If there'd been anyone observing them, they might or might not have caught the electric sexual tension between the two, but for the men, it was a tangible thing, a lightning rod ready to spark up with no notice. After a couple streets, Orlando abruptly pulled Dave into a recessed doorway and ground up against him. The walk had not made him any less hard. Dave seized the chance to push Orlando's shirt away from his collarbone and bite into the tender skin just over it. Not daring to make any overt noises, Orlando butted with his hips but Dave held him still and sucked and chewed till even in the dim light, a purpling mark was visible.

"Let's go," Orlando gritted out through clenched teeth. He twisted away and ran off, leaving Dave to catch up as he could. Eventually, Dave did, but he made it a point not to hurry too much. Orlando had been quite obviously standing on the steps of his building for a couple minutes. He simply turned and led the way up. Dave would have followed that ass anywhere.

"I wanna suck your cock," Orlando husked out with absolutely no preamble the second they walked unsteadily into his apartment. Dave almost lost it right there. That mouth, on him, working him… oh shit! The answering surge in his groin was almost unstoppable. He pounded his head against the wall for a moment to distract himself.

"Where's the bedroom? You gotta let me lay down or I'll fall down."

"As you wish." Orlando pointed further into the house. Several steps down the hallway he said, "Left." After that, it was a while before Dave could think straight. He was hit by a slender, surprising strong whirlwind that was intent on undressing, molesting, licking, sucking… Dave sank on his back on the soft down coverlet and lost his mind in sensation.

Orlando painted up one side and down the other of Dave's aching erection with his tongue. Like different brushes, he used a flat, rough, wide stroke to the shaft, then tiny pointed little prods to the seeping slit. Quickly though, he inhaled the whole length of it. His lips pulled tight around the painfully hard shaft and tucked over his teeth. His nose brushed Dave's quivering abdomen, ginger-colored curls tickled by his breath. There was no more teasing, simply business. Dave watched the skilled mouth surrounding his volcanic flesh, sliding his purple organ into and out of that hot, hot orifice, over and over, tongue swirling, flicking, his foreskin worked in a counterpoint of sliding. The pressure built swiftly to a maelstrom of need. Dave's swollen balls desperately needed to empty, but he held back, trying to delay his satisfaction. His peak was coming so damn fast it's almost rude,.

He panted and gritted his teeth hard enough that he thought his jaw would crack. "Let it go," Orlando said. His chocolate eyes glittered up from Dave's crotch. "I wanna hear you scream." And then his wicked mouth slammed back down and David squirted uncontrollably into it. His fuzzy-haired legs bent up and out, assisted by Orlando's archer's hands pushing them open. Dave took in three ragged, gasping breaths, and let out a shout to raise the rafters. Not once did Orlando even breathe, till it was all over, till the redhead was drained and cleaned and his hazy blue eyes regained some focus.

Orlando waited as patiently as he could those couple minutes till Dave became semi-coherent again. "Jesus, Orlando. You have some talent there, mate."

"Just something to fall back on," joked the younger man. Even as he said it, he sent up a silent prayer that such would never become necessary.

Dave didn't seem to know exactly how to respond to that. When no answer was forthcoming, Orlando followed his urges. "Turn over, will you?" he requested, a throaty moan of a assertion. "You gotta see this—it's the shit!"

Lazily, Dave rolled his long body over. Orlando, who had been kneeling between his legs, scooted out of the way briefly. The second Dave propped himself up on his elbow, looking back over his shoulder curiously, Orlando threw one leg over his back and bounced lightly astride. He reached forward with a sinful little smile curling his swollen lips. Long, tanned fingers sank into spiky red-blond hair. "Look," he commanded, forcibly turning the other man to face the head of the bed.

Dave jerked in surprise to see his own eyes staring back at him. A blush crept down from his hairline as he took in the nude Orlando straddling his back. The Brit's eyes had turned black again as they did whenever his lust burned high. He was panting lightly, through half-open lips. Dave, already hyperconscious of those long limbs half wrapped around him, the smooth slide of the nearly-hairless thighs, and the unbelievable heat generated by the man's core, acutely noticed every twitch of his reawakening cock as the folds of skin unwrinkled themselves. That the younger man was watching his face, holding him captive, while this was happening made him color all the more.

"Look at you, "Orlando smirked. "You're about as red as…as… as my cock."

The attention of two pairs of reflected eyes shifted. Behind Dave's tousled spikes, the tip of Orlando's erection was indeed a healthy brick-red, bobbing slightly as he shifted. Its upward curve nearly matched the arch of Dave's neck. The Aussie suddenly wondered if the younger man had touched himself at all yet. It looked unlikely. The whole head glistened in pearly iridescence; more was running in syrupy driblets down the shaft. Dave was struck with the thought of how very appetizing a picture it made. "Orlando, let me help you… what do you want?"

"I want you. Now." Orlando released his fisted grip in Dave's hair and slithered backwards up and over the curve of his ass. Something cool and slippery was drizzled onto, or into, his cleft and then, he felt first warm, soft balls ghosting over him, then a nice, hefty cock being rubbed against his innermost area. Orlando leaned his weight forward and hissed as his cock was willingly trapped between them, between Dave's cheeks.

The men locked eyes in the mirror. Orlando's upper lip curled back on one side, exposing his perfectly capped teeth. His whole lean torso and midsection undulated like a snake. He pushed his hips up and forwards, then arched his back to draw the opposite slide, again and again. Dave, fair skin of his face and neck glowing red in both excitement and embarrassment, pushed his ass up to meet the pumping cock buried keep in his cleft. He wanted more than that, though he didn't know how he'd get through being fucked by the beautiful man on top of him while staring at his own mug. Not even realizing he did it, Dave's prone legs pulled up under him, then spread. His body was still low enough to the bed that his balls rested lightly on it. He could grind his own hard-on into the mattress, just a little. The velvet heat of Orlando's stomach and thighs rubbing against him, of the leaking cock teasing his crease, and more lately with more pressure, his opening, the sac and two distinct, rubbery glands inside… all of this has Dave trembling. "Oh, god, Orlando… god, please, would you just do it already? Please… want you inside…"

Orlando smiled. "Call me Orli," he said in a low voice. One arm slipped beneath Dave's waist and hauled him to his knees. "It's easier to say while you cum."

Another coating of lube is applied to Dave and a finger wiggled into him, the pinkie. Dave quickly relaxed and felt a thicker finger, then two. He huffed two quick breaths when the burn began, but it was soon over and he dropped his head in relief. Behind him, the unmistakable sound of tearing wrapper and unrolling latex is heard but the fingers do not leave, only glide slowly in and out till he pushed back to meet them, and he groaned, "Moooore."

"Look at me," Orlando demands.

He knew his position, knew he was spread out, ready, prepared for Orlando like a feast, but still, it was a shock to Dave's system to see himself on his knees like that. Naturally, he'd thought about the other man in various stages of undress and arousal, even in mid-coitus. All those images put Orlando on bottom. Now, rather than seeing Orlando getting fucked, he was about to watch Orlando take him. His brain was somewhat uncomprehending. It had not lost its fascination with dark-haired, olive-skinned, doe-eyed ecstasy, however. The blunt, smooth head of a well-lubed shaft prodded his hole. A tiny line appeared between Orlando's black eyebrows. In absolute focus, the young man pursed his lips. Again Dave was forcibly reminded of the nether opening. Then his own required his attention, because it was being opened wide now, filled with hard young cock.

"Oh, god," Dave moaned. Apparently Orlando favored textured condoms. The Aussie couldn't help but wiggle his ass in combined pain and delight.

"Don't know whether to love it or hate it, do you?" asked Orlando in a slightly breathless voice. Dave shook his head and looked away. It had been years since he'd done this. Why the hell had he gone along with bottoming now? Still, despite his youth, Orlando seemed to know what he was doing, giving him time to adjust.

"Look at me," the Brit demanded once more. When Dave's gaze snapped up, he added, "I want you to watch me fuck you."

It started with just a subtle rolling of Orlando's narrow hips. Slowly he built up speed till he was banging against Dave's ass, his swinging balls bouncing against Dave's. Below, Dave felt like he was being taken apart and put back together, over and over again. The condom was not ribbed and not a tickler, but somewhere between. It made Dave crazy. He squirmed restlessly. "Deeper!" he finally cried. Whatever vestiges of restraint Orlando held, he dropped. Emotions, expressions flickered over his fine features, his jaw muscles twitching, dimples flashing in and out as he half-snarled, half-smiled. When Dave cried out, he leaned forward slightly, putting both hands on Dave's back for support. Dave thrust his ass backwards and Orli took the hint by bucking crazily into the dark passage. Orlando was about his own pleasure now. Unrepressed and unashamed, he slid his calloused fingers all up and down Dave's back, even over his spread cheeks.

Dave was in a conundrum. He wanted to come, oh yes; or did he want to hold off, so he could tear off a piece of Orlando, too? Something about the way this was playing out demanded he not take his eyes off the mirror, and by doing that he was getting so turned on he was leaking on Orlando's sheets.

"Oh god, you feel so fucking good… how do you like being my little slut-boy, huh, David?"

The question burned into Dave's mind. How did he like it? God, he loved it!

All Dave could come back with was an incoherent moan.

"Tell me," Orlando repeated, hitching up his pace. "How you want to come for me… do you want to? Are you close?"

"…Close," Dave agreed.

"Good," Orlando grinned, his cultured voice gone pure sex. "I'm gonna make you come." He pulled out, which brought a whimper from Dave, a childish little noise that made him blush all the more. Orlando wasted no time. He smacked Dave's round ass with his right hand.

"Kneel up," he commanded, in a tone that suggested that should have been obvious, "and move forward."

With a groan, Dave pulled himself upright and shuffled forward till he was a foot from the reflective glass. "Now what?" he asked.

Orlando slid up behind him and plastered his hot skin against Dave's backside. "Spread your legs, and brace yourself."

His eyes flying to the mirror, Dave did it automatically and Orlando shifted around till he could slide back in. With a grunt, he drove in; the vertical slide of the rounded, engorged head of his tense arousal bumped Dave's prostate, pressure so suddenly making sparks flare behind Dave's eyelids. All he could do was lean forward slightly, rest his shaking hands against the cool glass and just take it. "Oh, fuck... so good, Orli… oh Christ!"

One of Orlando's hands was set on Dave's hip for leverage; the other came around front and wrapped around the neglected cock bobbing obscenely with every thrust. "Mmm…" Orlando moaned into Dave's ear. "God, I love your cock… want it again, next time."

As if it hadn't been intense enough before, now the pumping began in earnest. Disconcertedly, Dave watched himself come undone under the hard, fast fucking Orlando dished out. The Brit's dark eyes flashed over his shoulder; the raspy whisper in his ear demanded, "Come on... come for me… say my name."

Dave saw the orgasm in his own slightly blank, wide-open, cornflower-blue orbs. Something indescribable showed in their depths. A shadow, a near-death experience, a dark-side apparition… something. His body followed suit. Orlando yanked at his cock for all it was worth, wringing pleasure after pleasure from him. The shaft inside Dave's slick tunnel abraded his sweet spot till a forced fountain of come jetted out and spattered all over the mirror. Orlando reamed him hard and Dave heard himself yelling hoarsely, "Orli, Orli, oh fuckin' god, oh, Orli…" He could feel the heat far up inside him that meant Orlando had released as well. The sounds the boy made… had anyone under the sun ever made such fuck-music? No. If Dave hadn't just come, he would have again. Indeed, his dick was still twitching but he was dry.

Coming down from his orgasm with small muted gasps, Orlando still had one more request. Command, more like. "Clean the mirror, Dave."

The redhead raised both eyebrows in disbelief so Orlando softened his tone just slightly. "Please… wanna see you lick your come off it… Would you, for me…?"

The glass was certainly no less streaked when he was finished, maybe more so, but Dave found it impossible to refuse. There was no way he could avoid his face now, either. His tongue flicked out to touch the mirror and catch the running smears of spunk and he slurped it up, once again with the red face of discomfiture. But oh, he loved it so, especially the glowing, approving eyes upon him. When he had swiped up the final smear and made ready to swallow there was one more word, "Share," and a tongue, so warm, stirring through the cooling mess in his mouth.

They shared his seed tongue to tongue, then wrapped themselves around each other's bodies for a long morning's sleep. It was in the back of Dave's head that he should leave, that he should extricate himself from this warm little bubble now before it was too difficult and he could not… but by then he was dead to the world.

*****

Chapter 3

As it turned out, Orlando slept like an egg beater. It had been long after dawn before Dave passed into REM sleep. He ran an uncooperative hand over his face, rubbing sleeping sand away. Like he did every time he awoke, just out of habit, he let the same fingers trail down over fuzzy but nicely filled-out chest and lower, through ginger fur to the stiff member he'd felt stirring long before he cracked an eyelid. It jumped readily at the contact.

Dave took his time to really stare at Orlando, to drink him in visually. He'd never have done it had the other been conscious, only furtively; that just wasn't him. Besides, before, it had been all careful distance or over-the-top, instant gob-smacking animal sex.

At the moment, the British actor was sprawled out naked on his back like an olive-skinned throw rug. The sheets were twisted around his knees and calves. Orlando shifted slightly, stretching one arm overhead. His eyelids fluttered; his slack mouth bowed in the tiniest kissing motion. ‘Is he dreaming about me?' Dave wondered. His own dreams had been a surreal morass of drowning and fucking and plaintive repetitions of his name. Weird. Never mind. His ever-curious sparkly-blues turned back to the sleeping man next to him.

Orlando looked so young, passed out like that. Though dark stubble showed on his upper lip and chin, his cheeks were smooth like a little boy's. The hard muscle on him, despite his slender, lighter build, and the normal patches of hair upon his body were at odds. The wiry tuft of hair under his raised arm was all matted and sticking up funny--even that seemed a mockery in the early afternoon brightness. It really took looking into the Brit's fully awake face to understand he was no child and not the least bit innocent. Dave, having done that, reluctantly kicked the pervy thoughts from his mind and returned to the reason he was here, now: Making the two-backed beast; he'd heard it called that; it was Dave's favorite little euphemism. This morning, he decided, he'd make his own version of it with Orlando.

He woke the elf boy by stroking his morning wood. It swelled up the flat stomach, pulsing with pooling blood. Grasping the satiny shaft carefully, Dave closed his hand around its heavy hardness and gave several slow pumps. Then he watched all the signs with fervent interest: a slight leap of the cock right up into his palm, an extra pearl of clear fluid at the tip, one testicle pulling up and dropping with an internal muscle flexion. Just before the young man shot all over his hand, Dave would stop, wait, and lightly pet the heavy vein on the underside or comb through the silky hairs on the loose sac. Then he started the tease all over again. Finally the pleasantly half-somnolent Orlando groaned that Dave needed to get him off and fast, before he lost his mind or pissed the bed.

Dave laughed at him and stated matter-of-factly, "You can't piss with a hard-on."

Sulkily, Orlando snapped, "Oh, yeah? Watch me."

So Dave wasted no more time and rolled onto the partly-awake but very aroused little grump. Once he fulfilled the very minimum of preparation but with extra lube, he rolled a condom filched from Orli's bedside drawer onto his rabid fuck stick and sank it. The darkly-furred long legs were already open around him. With a harsh little gasp, Orlando raised them, knees coming forward toward his armpits. There was something about that first slide in that Dave loved so much. He savored the forced opening of those slick inner walls around him, and the sight of raised tendons and popping veins as his partner strove to take it.

Tensed hips pistoned, hitching and battering behind the push-pull of cock in Orli's ass. They thrashed around on the bed, all across the rumpled surface. The boy's eyes were closed tightly, his head back, and his whole long throat exposed in a wanton arch.

"Christ, give it to me, gimme your cock, please Dave!" The brunette's hands slithered all over him. Dave gave it to Orlando like it was going to be the last time ever. It could be. He had no way of knowing. He still liked that aspect; where most people were all about making a connection, he was the opposite. The unknown excited him. In a sense, Orlando was becoming very familiar, but he was aroused by him anyway. His voice caressed something in Dave's mind that had never seen the light of day.

It was so damn good. He just wanted to get up in Orlando, to be inside him so far he might never get out again. With a groan, he grasped the slender legs and repositioned them around his waist. Then, he lowered his body till they were skin to skin. Orlando slid against his belly like crushed velvet and just the frequency of his moans went straight to the base of Dave's spine, that tickly-tingly feeling signaling the beginnings of orgasm.

So much he needed to do yet before he reached that peak, starting with, "Can I kiss you?"

"You have to ask me that, mate?" Orlando half-laughed. His eyes opened a little, crinkled at the outer corners. Cagily, he tilted his chin up. "You, with those fucking lips," he whispered, which Dave interpreted correctly as ‘yes.' And then he was kissing Orlando, fiercely if anything, nipping and biting along the way, dipping his tongue into Orli's warm mouth or accepting the slick wet muscle into his own. Preparing to take them both over the edge, Dave pulled Orlando's arms over his head and pinned them down with one hand. He snaked his other hand between them and grasped the leaking, turgid organ he found there.

Orlando hissed and arched his back and just plain writhed. Even for him, usually a junkie for the sensory, this pushed his limits. The strong fist wrapped around his near bursting cock tore moan after moan from him. Dave was in a state of near-disbelief at the responsiveness of the man beneath him, of how damn good that silky-hard throbbing length of cock felt in his hand. Orlando got louder in his passion, the vibrations from his moans resonating throughout both men's bodies.

For the first time, the redhead really paid attention to the tiny hardened brown nipples on Orli's tense chest. Letting volume soar unmuffled from Orlando's mouth, Dave hitched down just a bit and took one nub in his mouth, lapping the ice hard point, trailing saliva across the man's chest to give the other like treatment. The younger man was as sensitive there as a girl, and this was making him sound like one. The baritone moans became much higher, kittenish little mewls.

Dave didn't falter in his banging of the pliant, willing man. Now it was all instinct. Dewy moisture evaporated, tickling Dave's lovely round buttocks and broad back, even as he labored and sweated some more. He couldn't slow down if he wanted to, only glad there were enough distractions to allow him a small edge on endurance. That tight heat rippled over and over him, a virtual cock massage. Orli's upturned chin, lunging at him for kiss after perfect perpetual kiss, the inverted "U" of his jawbone searching, poetry in itself.

Unexpectedly, Orlando erupted. Yes, that was the word for it. Dave's furry belly and chest, and Orli's smooth upper body too, pressed against him, grew suddenly warm, wet, and sticky from the flood of fresh come injected between their rocking bodies. The lighter-built man arched up violently from the bed, nearly bucking the redhead off. He was shaking, and inside, rhythmically spasming with powerful squeezes. Dave never thought Orlando would go first. He got off on the thought that he'd pushed him to it. He got off on Orlando's near perfect features squinched in utter concentration, pure ecstatic release. He forgot what all he was getting off about…

…And he lost it. This time he wasn't taken by surprise; he'd known it was coming and had long minutes of his body telling him with every pleasurable sensation that he was gonna come. He needed to say, needed to tell, he wanted Orlando to see it in his eyes just like the last time; he thought he was already addicted to the idea of Orlando watching him come, or of him coming while Orlando watched, and oh, oh, there! now! Just from the force of his final thrust he nudged Orlando's slender hips higher. He wanted to be so deep, and then, he was, pouring himself out in gushes that turned his balls inside out.

At the sound of a throaty purr beneath him, breathing and speaking against his shoulders, Dave realized he was counting. He was counting the spurts of cream from his cock and he was at, "three, four," and Orlando counted right along with him, "…seven, eight…" The dark, liquid eyes watched his face expectantly again, always that ‘expectantly,' as Dave's irises nearly crossed. His pupils dilated enormously and lost focus. With a deep groan that felt as old as time, Dave had to end the tally. His plump, wondrously curved lips arched and re-arched into myriad expressions of brink-of, midst-of, delirious tiny snarls of after shocks. Even no longer spurting he was still coming for a time. His right upper lip twitched just briefly and then he collapsed, spent. Orlando wrapped long legs around the fair-skinned man to keep him where he lay.

Soon enough, Dave levered himself up on one elbow. He looked absolutely the picture of rumpled, sated, after-sex besottedness. Orlando knew he shouldn't do this, that it would be better to school his features back to polite distance and stand-offishness, but he couldn't, not yet. He allowed himself a few minutes of cuddliness. When Dave's freakishly delightful mouth landed on his again, Orlando gave over to it, to this kissing a practical stranger. Half his mind had still been counting seconds, while the other half screamed at the first half to just shut up and go with it. Orlando was nothing if not assertive about his physical expression. In the very act of giving it right back, of accepting the coaxing lips and honest tongue of the Aussie again and liking it, wanting it, that he made his mind up.

At last, many minutes later, he asked the other man, "So, what are we doing then?"

"Dunno, mate," came a much-delayed answer, between languorous kisses. "Just consider it aftercare for now…"

"Aftercare?" Orli started, and almost giggled. "Where did you pick up a term like that?"

"Oh…around. You know. You hear things." He raised his red-blond eyebrows. "Sounds like you know the lingo yourself."

Orlando smiled wryly. His lips crinkled in that way that made Dave think of the other end of him, so tight and yet so yielding.

"Aye, Ah have a' that…" Orli spoke the words, but in using a different speech pattern from his norm and dropping all his ending consonants, he really said two things. Dave realized what he'd just been told.

"You little bugger!" he laughed ironically.

"Yes…"

"Smart-ass!"

"Yeah, yeah... My arse has many talents." The large, secretive eyes went black again, and sapped merrily.

"Did you enjoy throwing that in my face?" Dave wondered, still a little miffed, a bit jealous, and definitely intrigued.

"Couldn't resist," Orlando grinned, then suddenly became solemn, still in Dave's arms. "But I didn't mean it cruelly."

"Na, no worries," Dave sighed.

The younger man took a deep breath. "Back to the aftercare, yeah?"

"Yeah!" Enthusiastically, Orlando rolled them both to their sides so they could begin again. However, he suddenly recalled what woke him up the first place: a full bladder, now fuller than ever, bordering on painful. "Fuck!" he cursed. "Sorry, mate. Gonna have to take a rain check. I gotta piss!" He leaped up out of bed.

Dave's morning urge had made its appearance some time ago, but he'd been holding it, not wanting to break up their sensual after-play and dialogue. He bounced off the side of the bed, too, and trailed along to the bathroom. Now that he was moving, he'd better move quickly. Orlando was standing spread-legged in front of the toilet, cock in hand. "Hey," he said. "I can't pee with you standing over me."

"Well, then move over," Dave told him, grinning and gripping himself. "I can, and I've gotta go… now!"

Orlando didn't move; Dave could see the wheels turn in his head. He suddenly felt exposed, which of course he was, and a bit nervous. Orlando was showing all his pearly whites. The Devil himself had never looked as pretty, or as naughty.

"Wait, Dave. Pee on me," he said, dead serious. The wide-eyed gape he got in response made him crack up. "Never done that? Well, me neither, and I want to." He turned and stepped into the bathtub. Then he knelt, one hand on the side of the tub, staring upwards at Dave's cock, then his face. "Come on, David. Right there…" He gestured to his stomach, "and here." The long, graceful fingers trailed up from there to chest, throat, lips, and curled over his high cheekbone.

Dave realized he was going to have to decide soon. He really did have to go. The more he thought about it, the more he liked the idea of Orlando kneeling there with piss hitting him and running down his perfect, lithe body. Still, wasn't that kind of ‘out here?'

"Now who can't pee with an audience?" came Orlando's low purr. "Just get over here and do it. I want it." He began to chuckle. Some of it had to with Dave's initial shock; some was pure nervous anticipation; some just because it was so silly, what he was asking.

Dave couldn't help but join in. Orlando's mirth was contagious. "You really are a twisted little freak, you know that?" he rasped.

"I'm a kinky little freak," Orlando corrected solemnly, hand over his heart. Then he poked his tongue out at Dave. The reddish flecks in his irises all but jumped out, as if they alone held the power of command at this moment. Slowly, the redhead turned to face Orlando, cock still in hand, half-hard again.

"I can't believe I'm doing this," he muttered under his breath.

"I hope you can pee with that," Orlando giggled.

"Watch me." But he was wrong. Dave consciously tried to relax but nothing would come out. He squirmed in discomfort for at least three separate reasons. Orlando finally assisted with the most obvious. He turned the shower on. At the sound, Dave finally let fly in what he later remembered as a piss explosion. A powerful stream hit Orlando first right between the legs. Startled brown eyes met startled blue eyes and both men began to laugh once more.

"Oi, nice aim," Orlando badgered. Golden liquid ran through his dark pubic curls, dripped off his balls, slithered down his cock and… Oh shit! Dave saw Orli was peeing too, even as Dave pissed on him. He urged, "Up, up; hit me here!"

The tall, strawberry-haired man jerked his streaming member upwards, his ass muscles clenching in sheer relief, till the yellow arch danced up Orlando's taut torso to his face. Most of the warm liquid ran in rivulets down Orlando's quivering body, but some bounced off and sprayed in all directions, like rays of the sun. The enigmatic eyes closed as Dave peed all over his face and then even into his hair. Musky, astringent smelling-urine and shower water both slid off him, turning the kneeling man into a prayerful, gold-burnished supplicant.

When the worst urgency wore off, Dave paid special attention to Orlando's cheekbones, the bridge of his nose, and the scalp on the crown of his head. It had been as much of a release as the sexual variety. It was unthinkable, really, that it was his golden flood running down Orlando's face like tears, making his lashes stick together in clumps. The fluid anointed his soft hair, running down his back and chest and both sides of his legs. Dave thought that for this being a sign of marking one's territory, there was more that he was giving than taking for himself.

Not a squeak or a peep was heard as Dave's rain fell on Orlando. He soaked it up, if not the water, then the gesture. Their combined flows slid around Orlando's knobby knees and down the drain.

Though he'd been full to the gills, having fallen asleep the night before without relieving himself, eventually his stream began to weaken and waver. Orlando caught the last of it with an open mouth and a flick of his tongue over little pinkish puckered lips. Dave's mind burned in about as dirty of a thought as it ever had in his life, imaging his dick shoved into another little hole, oh so reminiscent, and peeing some more. Would Orli even consider… No, it was probably even too sick for that little bugger…

"Dave!" Orlando snapped his fingers. The Aussie got the impression it was not the first time he'd snapped.

"Huh? What?" Damn fair skin. He was blushing again to the roots of his hair.

"That was wicked, Dave! Absolute sin. God, you fucking turn me on." He noticed the redhead's flushed face and neck next. "What are you thinking, mate?" Dave went even redder. "Want me to do you next time?" Dave shook his head adamantly. Orlando was reduced to wheedling. "Oh, come on. Tell me. I'm sure I've heard it before… please?"

He begged so prettily. Even in his naughty embarrassment, Dave noticed that. He took a deep breath, let it out. "No…"

"Please!" The entire facial expression beseeched him. Orlando was stroking himself, he was that worked up. Dave could see how iridescent precum oozed from the head of his long cock, even where he was still down on his knees under the shower water, now nearly clean from it.

"Fine." Dave gave in, rather than face unknown subversive tactics, god knew where, when, or in front of whom. It was just a thought, after all. "But I'm warning you… Well, I just pissed on you, right? I was imagining…pissing IN you."

Orlando blinked. His pupils jumped. "Christ!" he hissed.

"Sorry!" Dave blurted immediately, looking away.

"No, no," retorted Orlando, impatient. "That's a new one. I'm not sure how it can work, but… Oh, god! Get in this shower and fuck me so fuckin' hard, or I'm not gonna let you out of here till I figure it out."

Between the pissing, his little fantasy, and Orlando's acceptance of it, plus the sight of the striking young man wanking right in front of him, Dave was hard again, too. He clambered in. Orlando immediately took Dave's erection into his mouth, tongue squiggling into the slit to lick out the last drops of pee and the beginnings of precum. Dave didn't let him do it for long; even satisfied once already this morning, the Brit's mouth was gifted enough to have him on the edge after just a couple minutes.

"Get up now," Dave barked urgently, fisting his hand in Orli's piss- and water-soaked hair and pulling. He was definitely feeling toppish again. The brunette tightened his lips almost painfully around the Aussie's darkening manhood and popped his mouth off sharply. It pulled so hard it nearly did hurt, but it only made Dave harder. He tugged on Orlando's hair till he was on his feet, then Dave maneuvered the long, lean body under the spray with himself directly behind. He forced Orlando's arms behind his back, catching his wrists and holding them momentarily. "And quit wanking! I s'pose you think you're clean enough now," he whisper-growled into the whorls of the elf's ear, "but you're not. You're such a filthy little thing, aren't ya? ‘Come on me; piss on me!' I'm gonna have to clean you up myself."

He reached around to grab a bottle of shower gel. Upending the bluish-green liquid, he held the container over Orlando's right shoulder and let cool gel snake its way down the water-burnished skin. A few seconds later, he set the bottle upright and rubbed up a lather. It was a race for time, to get every part washed before the water sluiced away the soap. Orlando didn't seem to mind the verbal abuse, and he certainly didn't mind Dave's strong, sensitive fingers scrubbing at his chest, tweaking his nipples, or descending over his sleek hips with their jutting bones in front, or tracing the flat sinewy muscles along his spine, in the back.

Teeth nipped at the tendon where jaw met neck. "Bite me!" Orlando breathed, both in response to the earlier teasing, and to what Dave was doing at that moment. Dave didn't so much bite as suck tiny bits of skin so hard it pinched them between nearly closed teeth.

Orlando shivered. "Yes, hurt me!"

Dave changed his angle and did it again. Then he said sternly, "No more yet, little pee-boy. Your hair still stinks…"

Orlando's laughter rose into the steamy air like a bass flute. "'Pee boy?'" He let out a howl. "Is that anything like a rent-boy?"

Dave giggled along with him but didn't answer yet. He dumped way too much shampoo over the top of the soft, fine curls and scrubbed. The Brit had to close his eyes and watch his breathing so he didn't snort water up his nose. Dave forced Orlando's black curls back under the water till all the white bubbles ran out. He let the boy draw a breath, and another. Orlando rested his head back against the broad chest, eyes closed. "Mmmm!" he hummed in appreciation.

"That's better," sniped Dave, but with a secret smile. "Now you're almost done. Just one more part that doesn't much see the light of day, I think, needs some soap." He pushed Orlando forward to make him bend slightly. The boy caught himself and put his forehead to the tile, hands out to the sides of his head.

Unable to not admire what he saw, Dave ran the flats of his hands slowly down Orli's back to his hard, narrow ass, which was sweetly curved with matching dimples on the sides. Cupping a buttock in each hand, he separated them and squeezed. Orlando simply moaned. Dave grabbed for the gel again, and missed, so Orlando reached up and passed it back. "There," Dave said. "Let's clean that dirty little hole, so well-used…"

"Like yours," Orlando shot back. "And I'm beginning to resent the ‘little.'"

Dave smacked him hard on the right butt cheek. "Shut up." Ouch! His palm was all red and stinging.

"I won't; you'll have to make me."

"Wouldn't think of it," murmured the slightly taller man. "I'll just make you stop saying anything even bordering on coherent. Babble all you want." With that, he poured a large globule directly on the puckered hole he found between those cheeks and worked it in, toying with Orlando's tight ring, sliding fingers in, then out, no sensical rhythm to it at all. Orlando did in fact babble, and beg, and plead, till finally Dave couldn't wait anymore. "… Yessss, oh my fucking god… take me, goddamnit…. Just fuck me!"

Stretching his hands as far as they'd go around Orlando's tiny waist, Dave shoved in hard and Orlando screamed. The heat was incredible. Inside was slicker than ice, but hot like an oven. He plunged again, and the resulting holler was just as loud. "Let it out," Dave directed, "Scream for me all you want."

He pulled Orli back against him hard with every thrust. The younger man yelped stridently in time to it, "Shite… gimme… hit… oh…" and David moved his feet apart till they were braced against the sides of the tub. It was hard to keep hold on the slippery, writhing eel in front of him, but Dave needed his release too and persistently regripped and pulled on the boy's lanky frame and limbs under the water.

That warmth in the pit of his belly began; his balls tightened despite the warm water flowing over them. Orli took his face from under the water and spat to the side. "You forgot to wash some of my parts," he said silkily.

So Dave did it then. He paused long enough to squirt more shower gel into his palm, and that went directly onto Orlando's twitchy, rock-hard cock. Picking up his rhythm, the Aussie squeezed as hard as he dared, slicking up and down, up and down over the velvety skin of Orlando's outward center.

"Please," Now the throaty voice was hoarse with unfulfillment. "Something else… two things… oh, fuck! …"

‘Two' was clue enough. More gently, but not all that much more gently, David cupped his slippery hand over the hardening bollocks in their sac. Orlando shuddered and shook when they were handled, but Dave continued rolling them, fondling, stroking at them almost like he did for Orli's shaft. Now there were no sounds but panting through a wide-open mouth whose throat contracted to stop and start the air flow around those gasps.

"You wanna come this way?" Dave gritted, still moving forcefully in and out of Orlando's hole with the other hand now encircling the slender man's middle. "Or should I jack you off?" It sounded crude, perhaps picked up from the Americans on the set. The British boy wanted that, just like that, fast and nasty. "Do it… wank… cock… !"

So Dave did that, then. No more playing around, despite the last ridiculous request from Orli's slack mouth made him want to snigger again. With his hand tight around the part so named, Dave pushed himself over the edge in Orlando's body. Pressing the dark-skinned youth flat to the wall, Dave got his hips jutted forward at just the right angle to pump his final stretch to release. Tight inner walls gripped him like a fist while he expended himself, thick gouts of semen spurting from him. The lithe, squirming wanton before him squealed his own release, which blasted against the tiles before the water washed it away.

He stayed there, holding Orlando up, while they caught their breath. Eventually, his penis started to soften and slide from the sweet body. After making sure Orlando was steady enough to stand on his own feet, Dave picked up the bottle again and washed himself down, while Orli stood there, googling at him.

"What?" Dave smirked.

"Holy fucking shit…"

"'D'j'ya like it, then?"

"Hell, yes." The eyebrows came together in the middle. "I can't believe you pissed on me!"

"Well, you asked." Crap. Orlando wasn't having second thoughts now, he hoped. Dave thought he'd figured out the other's man's humiliation kink, was rather proud of himself over it because he'd never known a real person who played that way before… If he was mistaken…

"That I did." Orlando smiled, his typical sunny, lovable smile, with just enough edge underneath that Dave relaxed. "So how come you didn't pee again after you came? That might have done it."

It was Dave's turn to drop his jaw. "Never crossed my mind. I guess the rest kinda blew my mind." He snorted. "That's some sick shit, Orlando." He turned off the water and reached for a towel. Apparently Orlando planned to drip dry.

"There's something you need to get," said the younger man, standing in the shower stall in the attitude of a teacher with a promising but temporarily malfunctioning student. He crossed his arms and leaned a hip against the nearest wall. "Nothing is too sick for me, as long as it's consensual. That most definitely would be…consensual." He cleared his throat. "Do you want to continue this? Or would you rather to go back to vanilla sex, or worse, no sex?"

"Vanilla?" Dave queried.

"Yeah… you know, like normal. Two people, monogamy, no kink."

Dave screwed up his face. "You think being gay is vanilla?"

"It can be, and I'm not gay."

"Oh?" One of Dave's eyebrows raised high, of its own accord.

"Nope. That's limiting one's self. Just like being exclusively straight is. Is that a problem?"

"No." Dave had never thought of it that way; however, his predilections were similar to Orlando's. Rather than play around with words all day and get into some stupid bloody misunderstanding, he simply told him so.

"See? That's why we're good together, amongst other reasons, of course!" The black-eyed lust look was back, and a randy leer spread over those fine features. "You've gotta see my toys! Come on Dave, you're gonna love this!"

The rather shell-shocked man was not quite as sure, but he would find out. Yes, he decided, he would see how far this little something could go. Right now, there was no end in sight.

*****

THE END

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