Better Than Any High 16

Better Than Any High

Parts 16 - 19

Posted: August 2005
Title: Better than any High
Author: Darknightjess, Linden Jay

*****

Chapter 16

Spain - During filming of KoH

Orlando sat on the bench and scratched the black dog behind its ear. "So what's your name, huh? You're awfully thin." He looked around and dug in his pack, pulling out some wheat crackers. "Here boy." He said with a small smile and then grabbed the pack again when his phone rang. Jamming it against his ear as he handed the dog a cracker he muttered a greeting.

"Come on, now_ where's that proper diction," Viggo said with a smile.

"Viggo, hey mate." Orlando said. "What's up?"

"Bit of a strange day, actually. I came home to find Craig packing to leave to come to Spain, because apparently he talked to you and you said that you're in love with Marton." Viggo said, crossing his legs and stretching out on the bed.

"Craig's a cunt. I can't believe you're fucking him."

Viggo sighed and rolled his eyes. "Well, apparently you're a selfish bastard, and he can't believe I fucked you."

"Yea well, I can't believe a lot of shite." Orlando said and then sat up. "Wait. He's on his way here? Why?"

"Well, there's the thing. He's either on his way there because he loves Marton, or because he just doesn't want Marton with you, but it's one of the two."
"Well, maybe he'll have better luck with Marton. Maybe _ yeah." Orlando said in a quiet voice.

"Okay... now I'm lost. Again. What did Craig say to you anyway? He said you were calling to talk to me," Viggo frowned.

"Viggo, you told me _ I _ I told _ shite." Orlando leaned back on the bench. "I cornered Marton, I apologized for being a dick during Rings. I told him I wanted to try and start over, to make it up to him, and then I blew him and he hit me and told me it's a mistake and that I disgust him. So, as soon as filming is over this afternoon for the week, I'm going to get pissed and spend the entire weekend that way."

"Oh for Christ...." Viggo banged the phone against his head a few times. "Are you telling me that to prove to Marton that you felt something for him that was more than just a friendship based around casual sex, you dropped to your knees and blew him?" Viggo asked, sounding exasperated.

"Well _ uh _ oh fuck me."

" Orlando, you're in love with Marton. I'm not going to fuck you."

"Yeah, I am, aren't I?" Orlando sighed and scratched the dog behind his ears. "Viggo, what the hell do I do now? He actually used the words, 'you disgust me', and I'm quoting there."

"I don't know, Orlando. Who am I to advise someone on a relationship," Viggo snorted, and then turned serious again. "What do you really feel for him? Do you really think he'd be better off with Craig?"

"Craig's a cunt." Orlando said with a snort. "He's as selfish as I am, it just makes him mad because I'm better at it than he is. I don't know, Vigs, it's like I think about Marton and I get all bloody twee. I start thinking about five damned years ago and I want that back."

"Craig has a thing about what happened between you two_ how it was different than what happened when you were with Marton," Viggo mused. "He kept asking me if I slept with you when you were with him."

"Christ Viggo! I was twenty_two. I slept with everyone, literally everyone. I would have shagged a pile of rocks if there was the slightest possibility that there was a mouse under them." Orlando said loudly and then looked around, trying to calm down. "It was different. I just wish I'd of known that then. So what, he's going to come here and tell Marton what a bastard I am? He's wasting the air fare, Marton knows."

"You know Craig knows about Jeremy too, right? He was here when you left the voice mail, and we talked about it after I hung up the phone with you," Viggo admitted. "And all I know about him leaving is that he thinks Marton can do better than you."

"Marton can do better than me, but that doesn't stop me from loving him." Orlando sighed. "Great Craig knows about Jeremy. This just gets better and better. So Viggo, what now? What do I do now? Forget about Marton? Walk away? What?"

"Sure. Do that. Walk away, let Craig have him. I mean, he's willing to fly all the way to Spain and throw me over_ must mean that he's the one who's supposed to have Marton. Just get out of the way_ I mean, you had your chance when you were twenty_ two and you fucked it up, right? So just back off and let Craig have a shot_ what you feel, hell, what Marton might feel isn't really the issue, right?" Viggo said lazily.

"I hate you." Orlando said. "Okay smart arse. So no, I'm not going to walk away, but did you hear me? I blew him and he said he was disgusted! And he hit me! Well not really, I mean he did, but it was one of my scenes. He said my lines." Orlando rubbed his hand across his forehead.

"I know. Love you too," Viggo shifted, getting comfortable. "And I told you, I think you took the wrong approach. How are you supposed to get him to take you seriously when you're just repeating the same behavior you did in New Zealand? How's he supposed to know what's in your head when you're doing it_ know that you're not just being about sex?"

"If you tell me one more time what I did wrong, I'm going to fly to LA and beat you to death." Orlando said and then laughed. "So I tell him I love him and he what? Magically believes me?"

"You were the one who brought it up again," Viggo reminded him. "And I have no idea how you're going to convince him. Know what I wouldn't do though?" Viggo's grin was obvious even over the phone.

"What smart arse? Offer to blow him?" Orlando asked with a shaky laugh and felt some of the tension drain from his body. "I'll think of something. This is too important, he's too important. I'll figure it out."

"You'll figure it out," Viggo assured him. "I have full confidence that you can think with your head and not just with your cock. Good luck, Orlando." Viggo said, sincere, despite the teasing.

"Thanks Viggo. I'll call you."

*****

Chapter 17

Spain - During filming of KoH

Craig sat his bag down and checked the number. Marton's room. Marton. He smiled and ran his hand through his hair, smoothing out the travel kinks. With a confident smile he lifted his fist and knocked.

Marton looked up from his position on the couch, willing the door to open on it's own, then sighed, getting up with a groan and heading over, setting the bowl of mashed potatoes and gravy he'd been eating on the coffee table. Not that it was helping_ these were nothing like what Mum used to make, which didn't make them very useful as comfort food. 'M coming," he muttered, opening the door, his jaw dropping, eyes opened wide. "What the hell?"

"Hi Marton, fancy some company?" Craig said and smiled.

"What_ you... Craig! Get in here, ferchrissakes!" Marton said, recovering slightly and pushing the door open, taking Craig's bag from him and setting it aside, then giving him a hard hug.

Craig hugged Marton back. "Hey, it's great to see you. How are you, huh?"

"I'm..." Marton shrugged it off, forcing back the events of the last twenty_four hours. "I'm great now_ I can't believe you're here."

"Yeah, I wanted to come see you, talk some." Craig looked around and smiled. "Marton, what are you eating?"
Marton colored. "Mashed potatoes'n gravy. Lots of butter."

Raising an eyebrow, Craig looked at Marton. "Celebrating or pacifying?"

"Celebrating is meat pie and tomato sauce."

"Ah." Craig said and walked over to sit on the couch. "Anything I can help with. I'm a good ear."

Marton shook his head, forcing a smile. "It's done. I just want to let it go."

Craig leaned forward, hands clasped between his knees. He was silent for a minute before looking up at Marton. "I don't know that he'll let it go."

Marton sighed and collapsed back onto the couch, looking up at the ceiling. "Craig, I'm gonna need a lot more potatoes if you're gonna talk about him."

"Marton, don't let him do this to you. He isn't worth it. He's a spoiled, self centered little bastard and I can't stand seeing him do this to you." Craig said and reached for Marton's hand.

Squeezing Craig's hand tightly, Marton let them rest back on the couch again. "I know. I'm not. Like I said_ it's over. Forgotten. Or it will be soon."

"Soon?" Craig asked. "Why not now? Let me help." He sat up and moved closer to Marton. "I'm here."

"I know," Marton smiled. "And I'm so glad you are. Been way too long since I've seen you, Parker." Marton paused, his brow furrowed, and laughed. "I just realized I never even asked you why you were here."

"I came to see you." Craig said and settled back. "I was worried _ " He trailed off. " Orlando called and he was ranting and raving and I got worried. I was afraid he'd upset you." He gestured toward the food on the table. "And he has, already."

"I'll get over it, Craig. I'll get over_"now hang on a minute_ you were NOT going to say get over him. You've been over him for years! Right? "Hey_ I thought you hadn't talked to Orlando in years," Marton changed topics.

"I haven't. Until he called Viggo to whine about you _ again. Viggo wasn't there, so I had to talk to him. And it _ he pissed me off. It was the same old Orlando." Craig shrugged. "I got worried about you. You deserve better than him and his bullshit."

"I'm really okay, Craig. I mean, potatoes aside and all, he won't want any more to do with me either. I made sure of that. But it was good of you to think of me," Marton smiled, squeezing Craig's shoulder.

"You're wrong. He's decided that he _ well _ I don't know what set him off, but he thinks he's got something to prove." Craig shifted and leaned in to Marton, cupping his cheek and brushing his thumb across the man's jaw. "And I've found that I think about you a lot lately." He said in a quiet voice.

Marton froze, staring at Craig, acutely aware that Craig's hand was cupping his cheek and... yes, his thumb was stroking his jaw. "Craig?" he managed, still too surprised to pull away.

Craig leaned in until he could feel Marton's warm breath. "Marton." He said and smiled, stroking the tan cheek. "You deserve better than him."

Oh. Christ. Marton shifted, trying to figure out how to pull away without hurting Craig's feelings. "Craig, look... I've known you a long time_ we've been through a lot together_ this isn't about Orlando, okay?"

"No, it's about you _ and me." Craig said with a smile. " Orlando said he loves you, he whined to me about finally realizing it after all this time. I told him that he was a selfish little cunt and he didn't know what love was."

"He what? He told you..." Marton's head spun. "He told you he loves me_ you told him he was a selfish little cunt... and this is about you and me? How does that have anything to do with you and me_ Craig, there is no you and me_ there has never been a you and me."

"There could be a you and me, Marton." Craig said quickly and took Marton's hand. "I told Orlando that after that crap he pulled with Karl, was it any wonder you couldn't stand to be around him."

"Craig_ I..." Marton pushed away the mention of Karl, trying to gently pull his hand away. "What about Viggo? You told me you were seeing Viggo," he said, trying to change the subject.

"I was, but it was just a good time. We parted friends. I told him I needed to come here and see you, try and not let Orlando mess you about anymore than he already has."

"Look_ Craig. I know it was a really long way for you to come, and I appreciate you coming here_ as a friend. But I don't..." Marton sighed. "Craig, I don't feel like that about you. I'm sorry, mate."

"You can't still love Orlando. Not after what he did to you?" Craig said adamantly.

"This isn't about him_ you were the one who said this was about you and me_ but you keep bringing him back up again_ why?" Marton demanded, pulling his hand away and moving farther away.

"Because _ he _ I _" Craig rubbed his hands through his hair, finally asking. "You still love him _ don't you?"

"No. I don't know. Christ!" Marton stood up and paced a few steps away from the couch. "Why are you here, Craig?"

"Because I couldn't stand the thought of him getting you and hurting you. I wanted to try and protect you." Craig said and then stood up. "Maybe I was wrong to come."

"Him getting me? Last time you were talking about him being pissed about me getting Jeremy. I'm not a fucking trophy!" Marton said hotly.

"No, you aren't, but you are smart enough to not fall for that little bastard's shite again, Marton." Craig stepped to Marton and ran his hand down the other man's arm. "You and me, just think about it, Marton."

"Look, just leave Orlando out of it, okay?" Marton rubbed his forehead, feeling a headache forming. "Please, Craig_ just don't," he murmured, stepping back and out of Craig's reach.

Craig frowned, reaching for Marton. "I'd treat you better than he ever could. Don't you remember what he did? He fucked Karl. He's a stupid selfish kid. You can do better."

"Yeah, he fucked Karl. Yeah, he fucked me, you, David_ hell, Craig, if you really think about it, who didn't? He didn't fuck Karl to hurt me. He didn't even know. And why do you keep bringing him up anyway? Why do you keep trying to convince me not to go for him, when I've already told you I'm not?" Marton said, neatly sidestepping Craig.

"Because Marton. He's going to try and convince you he loves you. He's calling Viggo trying to figure out how to convince you that he's capable of loving somebody. Its just more manipulation." Craig said desperately.

Marton sighed. "I just want to put it past me, and you're making that almost impossible. Craig, I'm sorry."

"I won't mention him again, I promise." Craig said and smiled. "Let me take you to get a drink. We'll get to know each other again. C'mon Marton, this will be good for you."

"No. I mean, I'm sorry, Craig." Marton looked up and looked him in the eyes. "It's no."

"Why? Marton, damnit, I came to Spain for you."

"And as my friend, I appreciate it. But I never asked for you to come here as my lover_ you're not. You've never been. And either way, as much as I appreciate it, I never asked you to."

"Jesus Christ, you're making a mistake." He stalked to the door and grabbed his bag. "You two deserve each other. Back in Wellington, everyone was shocked that the little fucker stayed faithful to you for the couple of months you two were together. I knew it was only a matter of time. And I was right." He spit the words at Marton.
"Stop throwing Orlando in my face, Craig_ Christ! I'm turning you down because I don't love you_ I don't feel like that about you! And I don't care about Wellington," he spat back, surprised to realize that it was true.

Craig opened his mouth, and then closed it with a hard click. He nodded once and then left, slamming the door behind him.

Marton sat down on the couch with a thud, staring at the door, his mouth hanging open, then gave his head a shake and reached for the phone.

"Hello? Yes, can I get a triple order of mashed potatoes, gravy and butter on the side sent up to my room right away? Thank you."

*****

Chapter 18

Spain - During filming of KoH

Orlando held the tub of ice cream in one hand and the spoon in the other. He scooped out a huge bite and then looked at it, wrinkling his nose he walked to the table and picked up the squeeze bottle of chocolate and upended it into the ice cream, squeezing fiercely. It flowed for a second and then sputtered. He shook it and squeezed again, finally putting the tip in his mouth and sucking on it as he almost collapsed the plastic gripping it. He turned and flipped it over his shoulder into the wastebasket. Stirring the, now chocolate covered ice cream, Orlando spooned out a bite and shoveled it in his mouth. He walked to the bed and leaned over to look at the papers that were spread across the blanket. Talking to himself he read a few pages, moved a few about and then walked to the dresser and picked up a book and flipped through it before laying it down with a sigh.

"This is stupid," Marton muttered to himself. "This is really, truly, stupid. And pointless. And a waste of time. Christ." He took a deep breath and knocked hard on the door.

Standing with his back to the door, Orlando took another bite and called out. "Yeah c'mon in. Put it in the sink in the bathroom, its full of ice. Oh and I'm out of syrup, can you bring more?"

"Oh god, I don't even want to know," Marton muttered, closing the door behind him and walking inside, suddenly afraid that Orlando wasn't alone. "If Brendan Gleeson walks out into the room naked...gah!" he muttered, shuddering.

Orlando picked another book up and trying to not drip melted ice cream on it, opened it to the index. "Yeah, syrup, chocolate. And you wouldn't have any Tim Tams, would you? Oh, vinegar crisps. Do you have any of those? I'd really like some _ Marton." Orlando said, blinking at the man standing looking at him. "What _" He hurriedly sat the container down and said, "I'm sorry. I didn't know it was you."

"Yeah, I got that." Marton looked down, feeling awkward. "Look, I'm sorry. I'm just going to go, okay? This was a bad idea," he said, turning around and heading for the door.

"No! Uh _ wait. Let me move some stuff." He gathered up the drift of papers and books and what appeared to be faxed copies of menus from the chairs and couch. Stacking them on the dresser, he took a breath, feeling almost light headed and turned to Marton nervously. "Please, sit down. Can I get you anything? I've got _ well beer and ice cream. Out of syrup though." He said and lifted his hand and chewed on his thumbnail.

"No thanks, I've eaten," he said stiffly, shifting in place, and then finally sitting down. "I really don't know what the fuck I'm doing here," he muttered.

Orlando nodded and then sat down on the edge of a chair, hands clasped between his knees. "Yeah, well, I sure don't know either, but I'll try not to disgust you while you're here, huh?" He said and then regretted the words, and tried to soften them with a smile. He bounced his legs in place. "So, yeah."

Marton winced and looked down. "Right. Look, are you sure I shouldn't just go? I don't want to say anything else I don't mean."

Don't mean? Orlando frowned and cocked his head. "No, please. I_" Orlando cast about for something to say. He had been planning his speech, reading poetry and trying to figure out how to convince Marton that he was sincere in trying to change, to grow up, but Orlando hadn't finished studying yet. He fidgeted in his chair. "We've got to be around each other for filming. I don't want you to be uncomfortable, or anything."

"I know you talked to Craig," Marton switched topics suddenly. "He was here. And I know you've been talking to Viggo about me_ about things going on here."

"Craig actually did it, he actually came here." Orlando said and then stopped talking, shaking his head before continuing. "Viggo? Yeah, he's my friend. I needed some advice, I called him. What the hell did Craig think he was doing coming here?"

"He was here... well, a few hours ago," Marton frowned as he thought about it. "For all I know, he's still around somewhere. He came to warn me to stay away from you."

Orlando huffed out a laugh and rubbed his nose. "D'you tell him you didn't need his warning? That I was doing a good enough job of that myself?" He leaned back, draping his arms over the back of the chair and looking up at the ceiling. "I'm sorry Marton. I apologize _ oh fuck man, for everything, and for making your friends get involved in this, whatever this was."
"I didn't ask him to get involved_ I didn't want that," Marton said softly, staring at the wall. "I didn't ask him to come either_ or ... and I don't even know if he was serious, or just trying to 'save' me from you," he muttered.

"Do you need saving from me?" Orlando asked quietly.

"Not by Craig. Not like that. It's not like there's anything to save me from anyway, is there?" Marton kept looking at the wall.

Orlando tipped his head up and glanced at Marton. "I love you Marton, I wish I could prove it, or show you or something." He let his head fall back against the chair again. "But as idiotic and juvenile as I may be, I'm no threat to you. I'm not going to harm you or even make you uncomfortable."

Marton smiled wryly. "Hate to admit it, but I've never been more uncomfortable then I am right now," he said. "It's hard for me to believe you... I'm sorry for how that sounds, but I'm trying to be honest. If you want more honesty, I'll tell you this. I may be struggling to believe_ but I think Craig believed you."

"Yeah, Viggo believed me too. If I wanted either of them, I'd have it made, huh?" He sat up and stared at Marton. "I don't blame you for having _ disbelief issues where I'm concerned." Orlando smiled and dipped his head. "Trust me, I've been at a loss trying to figure out how to redeem myself. Viggo's only advice was don't offer to blow you. In case you're wondering, I'd already figured out that one myself." Orlando laughed, a brittle sound.

"You never lied to me," Marton admitted, wincing at Viggo's 'advice'. "You just didn't tell me the truth. And I never asked. And we made a lot of assumptions, I guess. It wasn't your fault that... the next guy for you was the last guy for me. I don't believe it was intentional. Never did, once I thought about it."

"Marton, I didn't mean to hurt you. I'd like to believe I would have made different choices, but I really don't know. It was like being turned loose in a biscuit factory. I didn't have a concept of what I was doing and how it could hurt anyone else. It seemed that everyone shagged everyone else and that's just the way it was." He stood up and paced around the room. "It wasn't until after it was over and I'd already messed things up that I realized that I wanted something different with you. And by then." He trailed off and shrugged. "Man, I could use some of those TimTams right about now. Apparently I need lot's of chocolate when I'm feeling unloved and miserable. Who knew?" Orlando grinned.

"Beats eating potatoes," Marton murmured under his breath. "I don't know what made it different, Orlando_ it just was. For me. And Craig tried to warn me, and I didn't want to hear it. And then you just stopped, and I felt like an idiot. For a long time."

Orlando looked at Marton, refusing to give into the need to turn away, to hide his shame. "I'm sorry Marton. You didn't take Craig's advice back then and should have, so you get to take it now. It evens out, yeah?"

"Look_ however this works out..." Marton sighed. " Orlando, I'm sorry. For what happened back then, and for what happened on set. It shouldn't have_ not like that."

Works out? Orlando thought with a frown and a small glimmer of hope. "You don't have anything to apologize for Marton."

"Don't I?" Marton sighed. "We never talked about it back then. I just let it go on as it was. I never told you how I felt. There was once... you said you loved me. I know now that it was just words_ hyperbole. It wasn't a declaration. But I wanted it to be, so it was. But I never did anything about it. And I shouldn't have said what I did on set_ or done what I did. So, I am sorry."

Orlando stared at Marton; as if he was a mirror that Orlando needed to look into, needed to see how he was reflected within. "Fine, I accept the apology. So, what now?"

"I don't know," Marton admitted. "I just wanted you to know that. That I was sorry. And about Craig. He told me... hell, Orlando_ he told me about Jeremy. What happened with you, and that you saw me coming out of his room," he said, looking shy.

"Craig's been a busy little bee hasn't he?" Orlando said and sighed. "Yes, I made a pass at Jeremy and he put me in my place. Called me some rather unfortunately truthful names and threatened to kick my arse. And then I was walking down the hall and saw you leaving his room." He shrugged, smiling. "I called Viggo, crying about it. And he beat me about the head with my own logic until I realized that I was upset because I was in love with you. Of course there was cussing and name calling involved." Orlando laughed.

"Well, of course," Marton said, managing a smile, and then looking serious again. "Look, Orlando... I wish I could tell you what you want to hear. I just... I don't know what I feel. It's all confused and mixed up with a million other emotions, and besides which, I've eaten the equivalent of a bushel of potatoes, and I'm a little afraid I might be sick on your couch. I'd love to do the super romantic thing and just sweep you up in my arms and carry you off to bed, after professing my undying love, but..." Marton looked at him. "I just don't know if I can yet."

Yet. Orlando thought and felt his heart lurch in his chest. Oh do calm down. He chided himself. "Potatoes, huh? We've got to work this out to one end or the other or we're both going to get fat and never work again." He said and then stared at his feet a second, before speaking. "I'm not asking for instant answers or declarations. And I don't want to go to bed with you. We've done that, and yeah, it was bloody great, but if it goes anywhere _ well, I'd like it to be based on a little more than some really great sex. Besides," He waved his hand in the air, gesturing toward the stacks of papers and books. I've been writing poetry and composing love letters like a teenaged bird for days now, it'd be a shame if I didn't get to slip some under your door, now wouldn't it?" He grinned at Marton and blushed.

"You've been... poetry?" Marton looked stunned. "And you don't just want to fuck?"
"Not if that's all it's going to be, then no." Orlando said and then turned to pick up a pad of paper. He blushed a furious red and lay it back down. "Some of this is so bad. I went and got one of Viggo's books, um _ there." He pointed to a book on the end table. "You know, to see how to start. It wasn't much help." He turned and picked up a wrinkled piece of paper. "I pulled out my old script, but_" He shrugged. "Everything was someone else's words, and you deserved better than that. So, I ordered more chocolate, inspiration, you know?"

"And you've been doing this since when?" Marton took in the books, the scribbled sheets of paper, all tangible elements of Orlando's feelings towards him. I don't think it's a trick, or a ploy or a game. Not this time.

Orlando laughed and scuffed his toe in the carpet. "For a while, with true dedication since Jeremy called me a diva and a puppy and with the added calories and alcohol since I saw you with him. I'm not sure I would have ever had the nerve to try to tell you how I felt, especially after my fuck up on set the other day. Spectacular that was, yeah? That's when I finally realized that it was my screwing around and thinking with my dick that had caused all of this. So.." He shrugged.

"He called you a puppy?" Marton smiled and shook his head, laughing gently at Orlando's recitation, suddenly reminding himself that he had said he was going at least five minutes ago. "Thank you for telling me all this," he murmured, standing up. "I've got... it's a lot to think about. I just need to process it all. But I'm glad you told me_ I am."

Orlando pushed himself away from the dresser and held out his hand. "Thank you for coming by, and for listening to me and _ maybe we could go to dinner. There's a great little place not far from here. Maybe some afternoon?" Orlando asked, chewing his lip and suddenly feeling as young as he sounded.

"You want to take me out for dinner? Like a date?" Marton asked, fighting the urge to grin like an idiot. What_ is he going to court me?

"Yeah, if you want to. Just a daytime dinner thing. We can talk and," He grinned. "I'll recite some really bad poetry to you. Sound tempting?"

"Actually, sounds perfect," Marton's grin matched Orlando's. "I'm not shooting on... Tuesday? Are you free at all?"

"Hang on." Orlando grabbed his schedule and looked at it, frowning, and then brightened. "If you don't mind a lunch date. I've got to be on set that evening, but I've got until late afternoon free. That be okay?" He asked hopefully, clutching the paper in his hand, but trying to appear calm and nonchalant.

"That should work_ so... twelve_thirty? One o' clock?" Marton checked, feeling nervous again.

"Twelve_thirty would be great. I'll get a cab, it's not far. You're going to love the salads; they're great and the fresh bread. It's warm when they bring it to the table. It'll be great." He bounced on his toes smiling.

"Okay. Okay," Marton repeated, feeling stupid about being so nervous, until he noticed that Orlando was bouncing with it. At least it's not just me. "So... I'll see you then. Or on set. But then for sure," he said, reluctantly heading for the door.

"Yeah, Tuesday at twelve _thirty, or before, you know if I see you." Orlando laughed and scratched his head. "So if I do see you on set can I, you know, wave, and say hi?" He grinned shyly.

"Sure. Come by and have lunch with me and Jeremy even," Marton teased gently.

Orlando blanched and then had a momentary pause at how the thought of Marton and Jeremy having lunch made him a bit jealous. Well, how odd is that? He thought and then said, "Uh no, thanks just the same. I'm learning all kinds of lessons lately, that's one." He said and smiled.

"Whatever it is that happened, he won't hold it against you, Orlando," Marton said confidentially, his hand on the doorknob. "That's not his way. If you were wondering, he didn't tell me anything about it. Just made fun of your choice of alcohol, and he does that to me too."

"I appreciate you telling me and I know that Jeremy's a _ gentleman?" He smiled. "But maybe it's just that after all this time, he kind of sums up or maybe represents everything I was doing wrong? How far I needed to go to grow up, yeah? He and I will be fine, we are professional after all." He grinned and bowed with a sweeping gesture.

"We'll leave it at that then," Marton nodded. "So... Tuesday. See you then."

"See you then. Thanks Marton." Orlando said, wanting to move to the man, wanting to touch him but refusing to give in to the feeling.

"You're welcome. And thank you, too. Bye," Marton said, making himself walk out of the room and close the door behind him.

Orlando sagged against the dresser. "Hurry up Tuesday." He muttered softly, picking up one of the books and beginning to flip through it.

The door opened again with a bang as Marton strode back into the room, crossing it in a few paces and pulling Orlando into his arms, kissing him fiercely.

Orlando squeaked, the book falling from his hand. He was at a loss for a moment, afraid to do anything wrong, but the almost painful need to touch Marton overrode common sense and he wrapped his arms around the man gently. Letting the kiss be everything.

*****

Chapter 19

Orlando bit at Marton's lip, sucking the full bottom one into his mouth and tugging gently. He let his fingers skate along Marton's chest until he came to the waistband; he tugged, grinning around Marton's lip. He pulled back and with a gleam in his eye he said, "C'mon Marts, strip."

Sighing patiently at the nickname, Marton licked his lips, making no move to help Orlando. "If you're so impatient, go ahead and take care of it yourself. Lord knows I'm not stopping you," he said, smirking at Orlando.

Orlando raised an eyebrow and grinned. "Oh well, take care of what myself, exactly?" He stepped back and unbuttoned his shirt, opening it but keeping it on. Lifting his hand he sucked two fingers into his mouth, wetting them. He dragged the fingers from his lips and down his throat, leaving a wet trail to his chest. "Wanna watch?"

"You said you wanted me stripped_ 'take care of it' wasn't specific enough for you?" Marton growled, his eyes locked on Orlando's fingers as they slipped over his chest.

"Use small words, I'm lust addled, can't think." Orlando said with a laugh. He twisted a nipple, grunting and arching toward his own hand. "Oh yeah, I'll strip you." He released the hard bud and slowly removed Marton's shirt, dropping to his knees he licked along Marton's lean, flat stomach, dipping into his naval and sucking at the skin around it.

"Christ!" Marton groaned, his head lolling back on his neck, and then moving center again, looking down at Orlando. "Clothes. Off. Now. Those words small enough?" he rasped.

Orlando unzipped Marton's trousers, peeling the fly open slowly. Rocking back to settle on his heels, he shrugged his shirt off and then ran his hands up and down Marton's thighs, digging the tips of his fingers in. "Come down here, please." He said and grinned, patting the floor.

Marton raised an eyebrow and looked down at Orlando. "We have a bed, you know. Nice one too," he added, feigning reluctance to join Orlando on the floor.

"More room on the floor." Orlando said and drew his feet up flat, knees bent. He popped the buttons on his jeans and scratched his fingers through the stiff curly hair. He arched up, pushing his hips off of the floor.

"And you're thinking we're going to need that room..." Oh. Christ. Marton trailed off as he watched Orlando, a low moan spilling over his lips as he dropped to his knees and crawled over beside Orlando. "That's unfair," he rasped, leaning over for a kiss.

"Yeah we will." Orlando said into Marton's mouth, licking into the wet heat, tongue running across the hard ridge of teeth. "I never said I was fair, yeah? Use what you've got." He breathed out a soft laugh and ran his hand to Marton's crotch and palmed the heavy warmth there.

"Tease," Marton groaned, leaning into the touch, his eyes closing for a moment before opening again, looking deeply into Orlando's.

Orlando leaned up on his elbow. "Only a tease if you don't follow through." Orlando said watching Marton intently. He sat and placed his hand on Marton's chest, pushing slightly. "Roll over, on your stomach." He said in a low rasp.

"Anybody ever tell you that you're bossy?" Marton groaned, shivering as he rolled onto his stomach.

"You may have once, but I probably wasn't paying attention. You really shouldn't talk when you're naked, it distracts me." Orlando said, leaning over he licked down the center of Marton's back, tongue running over the knobs of spine. As he left a trail of slick across each indention he hooked long fingers into the waistband of the trousers and tugged, slipping them over the firm cheeks and working them down Marton's thighs. "You are so bloody gorgeous." Orlando murmured and bit Marton's hip.

Marton laughed as Orlando started to speak, the laugh quickly turning into a moan as Orlando's tongue traced down his back, hissing at the bite. "Quite the compliment, coming from you," he murmured, shifting to allow Orlando to remove his pants completely.

"Mhmm. Budge up a bit." Orlando patted Marton's leg. As Marton pulled his knees up, lifting his hips into the air, Orlando rolled over and shoved at his jeans, pushing them down his lean legs and off. Sitting back up, he crawled to kneel behind Marton. Kneading at the warm flesh, he ran his lips along the crease of thigh and arse, dragging his teeth and then licking out.

Marton gritted his teeth, trying to keep from groaning at the feel of Orlando's tongue and teeth working against his skin. "That's it, isn't it? You're trying to kill me," he breathed, pressing back against Orlando, his entire body tensing.

Placing his palms flat against the firm cheeks, Orlando used his thumbs to separate the flesh and leaned in. "If I was trying to kill you." He enunciated each word carefully, slowly. "I would do this." He blew a warm moist gust of air across the pucker, thumbs tightening slightly.

A fierce shudder ran through his frame, a low moan sounding from deep within his chest, as Marton reacted to the sensation, his hips pumping lightly, unable to stop his eyes from closing. " Orlando, if you're teasing this time, I will kill you," Marton vowed, his voice unsteady.

Orlando chuckled and licked a stripe across Marton's entrance, moaning and squeezing the arse cheeks in his fingers. "No teasing." He murmured and leaned in again, his own cock hard and heavy between his thighs, the weight shifting as he moved to lap at Marton, tasting and sighing happily.

Marton's mind fuzzed over with lust as Orlando's tongue darted over his opening, his cock hard against his stomach. He pulsed his hips slowly, pushing back against Orlando's tongue, setting a slow rhythm, unable to keep his body from shaking as he moved, his moans becoming more and more desperate.

"Mmmm, wait." Orlando said softly and pushed his tongue in past the ring of muscle, licking wetly. He caught and held Marton's hips, wriggling his tongue, stabbing it as deep as he could until he pulled back and with a grin pushed his thumb close. He rubbed it over the already sensitive hole, pushing it inside and crooking it to rub over the peak of nerves. His own reserve was crumbling and his cock throbbing. "Marton, Christ I want you."

Almost completely unraveled, Marton took a moment or two to react to Orlando's words. "Have me then_ Christ, Orlando_ please don't make me wait any longer," he begged, spreading his legs wider, gasping for air.

Orlando pulled his hands from Marton and grabbed his jeans. Fishing in the pocket he pulled out supplies, making quick work of rolling a condom on and smearing lube on the aching flesh. He knelt behind Marton, the thick head of his cock pressed against the pucker. Orlando groaned as he sunk slowly into the tight heat. "Oh fuck, yes." He gripped Marton tight and snapped his hips, pulling back out and letting the slide pull slam sensations through him.

Marton braced his hands across the floor, moaning as Orlando slid inside him, unable to stop a sharp cry as his lover thrust hard back inside him. Shaking his head, he pushed back, meeting each thrust, fingers digging in against the carpet, his nail beds white. "Christ, Orlando_ please_ FUCK_ more!" he demanded.

"Now. Who's. Bossy?" Orlando ground out; teeth clenched and sweat beading on his skin. "God I love you." He huffed out, thrusts hard and fast. He ran his hands up Marton's back, nails dragging and fingers digging in, up to shoulders and back to hips as he pumped his hips. He moved, confident in the knowledge that he was striking Matron's prostrate with each shove. "C'mon Marts, come for me. Feel _ oh fuck feel that _ us _ oh fuck yeah!" Orlando leaned and ran his hand down Marton's hip. He tangled his fingers in the crisp hairs at the base of Marton's cock and tugged, hard. Wrapping his hand around the thick shaft, he stroked hard and fast. His vision began to spangle and his thrust lost rhythm as his orgasm started to boil inside of him.

Marton opened his mouth to retort to Orlando's comment about him being bossy, but all that came out was a strangled gasp as he felt Orlando's cock rubbing against his prostate, Orlando's every touch electric. He thrust up hard as Orlando's hand finally finally closed around his cock, not even attempting to hold back the yell as he came, spilling over Orlando's hand again and again, his body clenching around his lover's cock.

As Marton came, his body tightening and causing Orlando to tumble into his release. He made a whimper cry and gripped Marton hard, riding him as he quivered and spasmed. Finally able to pull out, Orlando rubbed gently across Marton's back as he disposed of the condom and rolled to lie on his back, gulping air, and touching any bit of Marton that he could. "Mmm see, more room." He said, grinning.

"True," Marton murmured, collapsing beside Orlando and trying to raise his head. "We need to buy a softer carpet if you're planning on doing this more often though," he teased.

Orlando rolled to lay against Marton, wrapping his arms around him and kissing his forehead. "Mmhmm, or just put a really big bed in every room." He laughed.

"Might look a little out of place in the dining room," Marton murmured, keeping a straight face. "But if that's what you really want..."

"Might be better though, I think I've still got bruises on my thighs where you fucked me on the table. Bed'd defiantly be softer." He finished with a yawn and curled into Marton. "Need a bed now, though _ oh _ and a blanket."

"Not yet you don't," Marton said with a grin, kissing Orlando and getting up with a groan. "You may have temporarily distracted me with sex, but you're mad if you thought it was going to work long term," he laughed. "You still have to call them."

Orlando rolled and wrapped his arms over his head. "No." He whined out. "Come 'ere. We'll fuck again." He said with a huffed laugh.

"Oh_ wait_ I learned this one," Marton pretended to be thinking deeply. " Orlando, no whining rule," Marton said, doing his best to mimic Viggo's voice.

Orlando's head shot up and he narrowed his eyes. "I hate Viggo, and now I'm not fond of you either." He laughed and stood up.

"Well, you can tell Viggo you hate him when you call him to thank them for the anniversary present," Marton smirked. "Oh_ and tell Jeremy I say hi."
Orlando harrumphed. "And how odd is it that they've built a relationship out of the fact they both have the same taste in scotch. Bloody mad bastards." He turned to Marton and stroked his cheek. "Fine, I'll call. You start dinner." He kissed his lover, looking into his eyes. "I love you Marton, so much." He said in a soft voice, smiling.

"I love you too."

*****

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