Fic: Football - Part 2
Title: Football (Part 2)
Type: LOTR RPS AU
Author: deleerium
Pairing: Orlando/Elijah
Rating: R
Summary: Orlando’s the small town quarterback. Elijah’s a transfer student with football savvy.
Disclaimer: here.
Notes: Thanks to my darling beta, summerfly!
Elijah jumped off the loading dock and hit the pavement at a dead run. Four buses and one truck were loaded and ready to roll, lights on, engines running. He raced towards the open door of the first bus, ignoring the drizzle that dampened his hair.
He hit the wet rubber stairs and a foot slipped out from under him. He landed on the top stair hard with both palms, his sports bag clattering against the open door. He cursed and scrambled into the bus, panting as he pulled himself up to the front and turned down the aisle.
The bus was packed full of football players. Elijah’s eyes darted back and forth as he took a couple hesitant steps forward, looking for a place to sit.
Part of the problem was that the average football player took up an entire bench on a bus.
The bus moved and Elijah lurched forward, one hand fumbling against a seat back for balance. He took two awkward tripping steps forward before his ankle twisted and he headed for the floor.
A long arm snagged him by the waistband of his pants and yanked him back and down into a seat. Elijah sat down with a whoosh and heard a grunt as his sports bag collided with the guy in the seat.
The bag slid to the floor in a heap and Elijah turned to apologize. His mouth hung open for a few seconds before any sound came out. He swallowed and tried again. “Sorry, Orli. Thanks.”
“No problem.” Orlando reached between his legs for Elijah’s bag, shoving it under the seat in front of them.
Elijah scooted as far to the edge of the seat as possible, trying to put space between his shoulder, hip, thigh and the heat of the young man next to him. He scooted so far out that he swayed jerkily to the side, nearly falling into the aisle again.
A hand snagged the sleeve of his shirt and pulled him upright again. “Relax, Wood.” Orlando dragged Elijah across the seat until he was settled firmly on the cool vinyl. Elijah’s hip and thigh were pressed against Orlando’s. Orlando crooked his arm over the back of the seat, giving Elijah shoulder room.
Elijah glanced briefly at Orlando before turning away, staring distractedly down at the floor. “Yeah, um. So what are the facilities in Brownwood like?”
“Nuevo riche. Their lockers are made out of oak and there’s a full service kitchen.” Orlando leaned back against the cool window, half turning, his arm stretched out behind Elijah’s shoulders.
Elijah cleared his throat, acutely aware of the hard thigh pressed against his through two layers of denim. He shifted forward on the seat until he could no longer sense the heat of Orlando’s arm near his back. “Wow. Sounds…nice.”
Orlando nodded and turned his head, the fingers of one hand resting at the corner of his mouth. “Yeah.” He stared out the window.
Their silence was, strangely enough, comfortable.
The buses were making progress down a state highway when Elijah cleared his throat and shifted on the seat, finally settling back against the warm vinyl. Orlando let Elijah’s weight rest against his forearm for a moment, felt the heat of the other man through the cotton of his polo, the twin rise of his shoulder blades against the inside of his arm.
In a few seconds, Orlando shifted, moving his arm back until it was held up only by long fingers curled over the top of the rectangular cushion, just an inch on the outside of Elijah’s shoulders, his elbow dangling behind the seat.
He could still feel the imprint where Elijah’s heat had touched his skin.
+
It was pitch black, near freezing and drizzling steadily by the time Elijah staggered into the half-empty bus. The rest of the team slowly trickled in from the showers, their exhaustion apparent. They’d won by a fluke. Had the other team actually made the last field goal, their spirits would be much lower. As it was, a sharp lecture by all three coaches had left most of the team drained.
The weather had not helped Elijah’s attempt to keep the team either warm or hydrated. He’d spent most of the game sprinting back and forth to the kitchen with microwave heating pads and trying to keep Gatorade in and rainwater out of the dozens of cups next to the coolers.
Elijah rubbed his hand through his hair, grimacing as the near freezing water dribbled down the back of his neck. He hitched his bag up on his shoulder and staggered to the unusually empty back row of the bus.
Dom and Billy looked up from their exhausted stupor as he walked by. Elijah made a fist and after a moment of hesitation, tapped Dom lightly on the shoulder in empathy as he walked past. Dom reached out and patted Elijah high on his thigh in return. Elijah smiled crooked, watching as Billy’s head dropped to Dom’s shoulder. Dom leaned back comfortably on the seat, apparently oblivious to the other young man leaning on him. Elijah stared for a moment, then headed down the aisle.
These guys are a lot…closer that my team back home.
Elijah threw himself into a corner of the back seat, his bag sliding to the floor in a heap. He leaned back against the cold glass and closed his eyes, listening to the steady beat of rain on the metal roof, the occasional clatter of the door opening, the shift of the bus as someone made their way down the aisle.
The door opened again. Elijah sighed and crossed his arms over his chest, trying to get warm. His Lockhart letter jacket was still on back-order and he hadn’t felt comfortable wearing the one from his old high school - not at his first away game.
He felt the long back bench give as someone sat down and his eyes flashed open.
Orlando leaned back in the opposite corner, shoulder and temple pressed against the glass, eyes closed, his hair and shirt damp from either rain or shower, Elijah couldn’t really tell. He looked exhausted. And uncomfortable.
Elijah cleared his throat, and turned to stare out the window. Within a few minutes, they were on their way out of the parking lot.
Elijah watched as Orlando’s head kept falling forward in sleep, only to jerk upright and then roll with a grimace against the cold window.
Elijah dug under the seat and pulled out his athletic bag - it was full of spare clothes, a few dry towels and his shower gear. He dragged it onto the seat next to him. Slowly he leaned across the long bench and tapped Orlando on the shoulder. “Hey.”
Orlando’s eyes opened with a jerk. “Yeah?” He sat up straight and ran a hand through his hair, knees folded, feet resting on the long bench.
“Here, do you wanna use this…for a pillow or something?” Elijah half-lifted the bag towards Orlando.
Orlando stared at the bag, looked up at Elijah, flashed a tired smile and reached for the bag. “Thanks.” Orlando dropped the bag back on the seat next to Elijah. Before Elijah could summon the breath to squeak, Orlando shoved the bag against his thigh, spun around in the seat and thumped his head down on the bag, legs folded and tucked along the rest of the bench. His dark curls just brushed the top of Elijah’s thigh. He scrunched back into the seat and sighed deeply.
After a few minutes, Elijah let out the breath he’d been holding. He shifted slightly in the seat, scooting down and propping one knee up on the seat in front of him. He stretched his arm out along the seat back, sighed quietly and leaned against the seat cushion, rolling his head so that he could look down at Orlando.
Elijah jumped at the sound of a low voice.
“Unlike the rest of us, he’s on the field for most of every game. We usually leave the back seat for him to crash afterwards.” Dom settled into the empty seat just in front of Elijah.
“Oh. Shit. I didn’t know.” Elijah made a motion to get up.
Dom hissed quietly and laid a hand on his arm. “Don’t, you’ll wake him up.”
Elijah glanced down at Orlando. Orlando sighed in sleep and shifted, sliding an arm under the bag. Elijah’s heart rate slurred into high speed. Orlando’s arm was pressed along the side of his thigh. Elijah felt the rise of knuckles where they rested against his hip. He glanced back up at Dom, his eyes wide.
Dom slapped him on the shoulder. “Just let him sleep, ok? He worked hard tonight. And I don’t think he bites.” Dom grinned and disappeared up the aisle.
Elijah let his head drop back onto the seat with a silent moan.
+
Twenty minutes later and Elijah’s arm was officially numb. He lifted it off the back of the seat and stretched it out over the dark head pressed against his thigh. Very carefully, Elijah laid his arm down on top of his thigh. Dark curls brushed the back of his arm, making the hair stand up. He curled his fingers into a fist, resisting the urge to touch just one of the damp locks.
He raised his arm quickly when the reclining form suddenly twisted with a grunt, turning on the seat until he curled the other direction, facing Elijah. Orlando sighed deeply and rocked his head down into the bag. He slid an elbow up under his cheek and curled his shoulder up. Elijah watched the folds of soft wool sweater shift over muscle as Orlando got comfortable again. In a few moments, his breathing was deep and even.
Elijah still had his arm raised partially above his head. He looked carefully at Orlando’s face. His lips were half-parted, eyelashes still and black against the smooth skin of his cheeks.
Gingerly, Elijah lowered his arm, his hand hovering over the wool-covered shoulder. Light as a breath, he dropped the pads of his fingers against the soft wool, his eyes darting to Orlando’s face. There was no movement from the sleeping form. Gradually, Elijah let the weight of his hand and arm rest on the curve of Orlando’s shoulder. Finally settled, he sighed and relaxed into the seat.
He leaned back and closed his eyes.
He was just drifting off when the bus hit a bump. Elijah tightened his hand, holding Orlando steady against the suddenly swaying bus. Orlando shifted against him, the heat of his shoulder warm against Elijah’s palm.
Without thought, Elijah shushed him softly and moved his hand, petting his fingers through Orlando’s dark curls, he dragged the back of his knuckles over a warm cheek, then stroked his hand through the curls again, thumb smoothing over a temple before returning the hand to cup possessively around the curve of a broad shoulder.
Elijah froze, suddenly aware that he’d just petted the captain of the football team. A flush of pink covered his cheeks as he slowly opened his eyes and looked down at Orlando. The flush deepened and spread to the back of his neck when he saw that Orlando’s eyes were open, watching him.
+
Orlando had felt a flush of something intangibly warm chase away some of his fatigue when he stepped on the bus and saw Elijah already sprawled in the back. He suppressed the desire to grin as he quickly moved to the back and sat on the opposite end of the bench.
He’d felt a shiver of awareness when Elijah touched his arm and asked if he wanted to use his bag as a pillow. It was only after Orlando lay down that he realized perhaps Elijah hadn’t meant for him to lay down with his head nearly in his lap.
When Elijah didn’t immediately protest, Orlando decided it was ok. Within minutes, the near warmth of Elijah and exhaustion from the game tempted him into a light sleep.
He woke to the warmth of a hand first holding him steady against the bus’s rocking, then fingers grazing lightly through his hair, along his cheek, and deliciously sliding against his scalp again before settling warmly in place on his shoulder. He opened his eyes, still blurry with fatigue and looked up into a wide blue gaze.
And smiled.
The hand on his shoulder tightened, a thumb rubbing soft against the wool.
Orlando closed his eyes, pushed up and rolled closer to Elijah, into the warmth of the hand on his shoulder and drifted back into oblivion.
For about ten seconds.
He rolled back abruptly, his eyes opening as he lifted himself half up on an elbow, staring at Elijah with wide dark eyes in the dim light of the bus.
Elijah snatched his hand away, curling it up against his chest, staring at Orlando.
The bus moved slowly down the two lane highway.
Elijah’s chest rose and fell in shallow dips, his heart stuttering behind his ribs as he waited for Orlando to yell, hit him, jump up, something…
Slowly, Orlando lowered himself back to the pillow of Elijah’s bag and thigh, his eyes still open, watching. His lips were slightly parted, his own breathing shallow as he laid the top of his head deliberately against Elijah’s thigh. He heard the soft ratchet of Elijah’s breath as he settled down.
Eyes locked, they stared at one another as Elijah, very slowly, reached out and set his hand back on Orlando’s shoulder. They stayed frozen for a long minute.
Orlando blinked, then closed his eyes.
Elijah relaxed, leaned back against the seat. He squeezed the shoulder under his hand gently and closed his eyes.
+
“How long have you and Buffy been going out?”
Orlando looked up from his books with a start. Elijah set down two beers and slid into the booth across from Orlando.
Orlando cleared his throat and reached for the new beer. He took a long swallow, then leaned back in the booth, contemplating Elijah.
Last night, Orlando woke up as they pulled into the school parking lot. He’d stared up at Elijah’s slack features for a few seconds before sitting up and moving to the other side of the back seat.
Elijah was fast asleep, head lolling against the seat cushion. He jerked awake abruptly, his eyes blinking in the overhead lights as the bus door opened. He cast a glance at Orlando.
Orlando looked back, then dropped his gaze. There was a feint tinge of pink high on his cheeks. He’d grabbed his jacket and left the bus.
Orlando thought about blue eyes and warm fingers all the way home. He sat outside his house, the radio off, for nearly an hour. Contemplating the sound of the rain against his windshield.
Tonight, it had taken him nearly ten minutes to work up the courage to go into the bar after Buffy left with James. When he’d finally pushed open the door and walked inside, Viggo had been the only person behind the counter.
That had been over two hours ago.
“I’m sorry, what was that again?”
“You and Buffy? How long?” Elijah was fiddling with a coaster on the table.
Orlando watched the tip of Elijah’s fingers flip, rub, curl over the rotating edge of the cardboard square. He flushed as an image of those fingertips flipping, rubbing, curling over skin flashed with startling clarity through his brain. “Uh…since freshman year. But we’ve known each other since we were kids.”
Elijah cleared his throat. “You ever gone out with anyone else?”
“No.”
“And you and Buffy are still…together?”
Orlando cleared his throat. “Of course.” Liar, liar, LIAR. He reached quickly for his beer.
“Really? So why did she get into a car with that other guy when you got here?”
Orlando sputtered and beer dribbled down his chin. He fumbled for a napkin. “I…uh…”
“Look, I’m not going to tell anyone, I was just wondering why you two were pretending to be girlfriend and boyfriend.”
“Pre…pretending?” Orlando’s voice broke.
Elijah’s eyes were bright and steady. “Yes, Orli. Pretending. She treats you like a kid brother, not a boyfriend. And you spend most of your Friday and Saturday nights here, not out with her like you tell everyone you are. But it’s cool. I was just curious, that’s all.”
Orlando stared at him in silence.
Elijah blushed, pushed his half-finished beer away, and slid to the outside of the booth. “I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have said anything. I’ll let you get back to…”
“Don’t go.” Orlando reached out and laid his hand over Elijah’s on the table. Elijah’s fingers shivered under his, the warm rise of his knuckles pressing against the curve of Orlando’s palm.
Elijah stared down at the long fingers trapping his own.
Orlando quickly snatched his hand back, rubbing his palm on his jeans.
“Ok.” Elijah slowly lowered himself down in the booth and reached for his beer. “So…what are you working on, there?”
Orlando dragged his eyes down from Elijah’s and stared at the open book in front of him. “I have an essay to finish on post-modernism in literature before Monday.”
Elijah grinned. “Bleugh.”
Orlando laughed and raised his glass in a salute.
+
Three beers and two hours later, Elijah was kneeling up on the booth, arms akimbo, eyes bright and face grimacing as he re-enacted one of his assistant manager’s failed attempts at flying down a set of bleachers during practice.
Orlando was laughing, slapping his hand on the table as Elijah did an imitation of the slightly awkward freshman. He wiped his eyes and sighed as Elijah dropped with a thud back to the booth cushion.
Orlando propped his chin on one hand and sighed an inebriated sigh. “’Lij?”
“Yeah, Orli?”
“Have you ever just thought about people…like, other than girls?”
Elijah sobered instantly, his heart thumping quietly in his chest. “Thought about other people how?”
Orlando shrugged and took another sip of his beer, staring down in the bottom of the glass before raising his gaze to Elijah’s. “I dunno. Like…” Orlando cleared his throat. “Sexually.”
“Have I ever just thought about ‘people’ other than girls, sexually? You mean, guys?”
Orlando nodded jerkily and stared down at his drink.
“No.”
Orlando’s face flamed. “Oh.”
“I’ve done more than just think about guys.”
Orlando’s eyes widened as he looked at Elijah. “Really?” He squeaked and cleared his throat. “How…how much more? If you don’t mind me…um, asking.”
Elijah shrugged, his own cheeks tinged pink. “Not much. Just…not everything. Not even close.”
“Elijah! Could you help an old man out?”
Elijah and Orlando both started. Elijah cleared his throat and slid out of the booth, picking up their empty glasses. “I’ve…I’ve got to go…help out.”
“Yeah.” Orlando was staring down at his coaster, the tips of his ears a bright shade of pink.
“Orli?”
Orlando looked up, dark eyes searching bright blue. “Yeah?”
“If you ever…I mean. I…I’d be ok if you…I mean…uh…oh, fuck it.” Elijah spun away from the table and headed back for the bar.
+
On Monday, Orlando was on the field before Elijah had even changed clothes.
On Tuesday, Elijah spent practice unpacking new gear and re-organizing the equipment room. He studiously avoided looking at the worn wood of the door Orlando had been leaning against all those days ago.
On Wednesday, Elijah looked up from folding towels to find a still sweaty, wet, mud-covered (it had rained all day), ratty-uniform-wearing Orlando staring at him from the open door to the loading dock.
Dom came running up behind Orlando and slapped him on the back. Orlando turned and grabbed Dom in a head lock, dragging him out of sight behind a row of lockers.
+
I can do this.
“Lij?”
Elijah looked up. His eyes didn’t get any further than the strip of tan chest and muscled stomach outlined by two inconsequential folds of a pale plaid shirt. One elbow rested against the wall of lockers, bent bicep and forearm bulging out of the short sleeve, head propped up on a nervous hand, hip cocked to the side and the other hand stuffed deep into jeans that were just too-large enough to creep to the underside of a slender hip bone.
Jesus fucking Christ, don’t sneak up on a guy all…sexy like that.
Elijah tried to drag his eye up further than Orlando’s half-naked torso. They locked on the damp concave lick-me, oh please lick-me hollow at the base of his throat.
Fuck, I love locker rooms.
“Uh…Yeah?”
Look up. Look up. Look…oh, fuck it.
“I was wondering…” Orlando cleared his throat and looked over his shoulder at the other guys still getting dressed in the locker room.
Elijah looked down. Shit. Even his toes are fuckin’ pretty.
Orlando turned back to Elijah. He leaned closer, bending at the waist, his supporting arm flexing, his mouth just outside Elijah’s ear.
Elijah’s hand fumbled for the metal edge of his locker, knuckles white as the breathy scent of soap, Curve and freshly showered Orlando wafted across his cheek.
“I’d like to…”
Spread your half-naked self on the floor and ask me to teach you everything I know? Absolutely. Now would be fucking fabulous.
Orlando’s voice faded back into Elijah’s awareness. “…is that…cool?”
Elijah breathed out through his nose, then sucked in another deep breath. He turned slightly towards Orlando, until his nose was a centimeter from being tucked into the curve of Orlando’s neck, just under his ear. When he spoke, it came out as a husky murmur. “Hmmm…what was that, Orli?”
Elijah watched the goose-flesh ripple across Orlando’s throat, heard the sharp little tuck of breath as his words rocked across Orlando’s ear lobe.
“Oh, god. You…me. Get a beer. After game tomorrow. I…ok?”
Elijah nodded slowly, watching a pulse jump under thin skin. “Yeah.”
Orlando let out a short puff of air. “Cool.” He spun around and took a step towards his locker. He winced and surreptitiously adjusted himself.
He wasn’t even going to think about why a guy whispering for one second into his ear had given him the fastest, most painful hard-on he’d had in years.
Orlando slung his backpack over his shoulder, stepped into his boots, slammed his locker shut and started on his shirt buttons as he headed for the parking lot.
Ok, ever.
+
Orlando cleared his throat as Elijah slid into the booth and pushed a beer across the table. “Thanks.”
“Good game.” Elijah raised his beer in a toast.
Orlando raised his in return, the corners of his lips curving up. The clink of their glasses was interrupted by the sound of the front door banging open. A group of a dozen or so men poured into the bar. Their loud voices and raucous calls for the bartended made it clear this was not the first bar they’d visited.
“Fuck.” Elijah breathed the word softly. He scooted to the edge of the booth and leaned out.
Viggo came hurrying down the aisle.
“I’m sorry, Elijah. It’s a bachelor party. There’s no way I can take care of them and keep up with the rest of the room. Could you…?”
Elijah glanced at Orlando. “I…”
Orlando waved him out of the booth with a small smile. “Go ahead. My books are in the car. I’ll just get them.”
Elijah considered leaning forward and impulsively kissing Orlando’s temple in gratitude. He decided against it.
This. Them. Us. There was a heavy flavor of importance that made up the center of what he was feeling for Orlando. Something warm and tingly down under his skin. He could feel it every time one of them caught the other looking. And he could feel Orlando’s uncertainty, his hesitation, the newness and fear all rolled up into blushing looks and the occasional brutal, stripping stare of those dark eyes.
That was why he was going to leave the first move up to Orlando.
Elijah snorted as he tied an apron around his waist and headed for the loud group of men.
Of course, I’m probably going to be thirty before he actually works up the nerve to make a move…
+
“Don’t forget to put the crates outside for delivery. And lock the side door.”
Elijah grinned and waved his uncle out the door. “I know how to close down, Uncle Vig. Scram.”
Elijah shut the front door behind his uncle. He glanced at his watch. It was well after two. They’d finally had to kick out the lingering bachelor party, calling cabs to take them home.
Elijah turned around. He hesitated before walking back towards the bar.
“Thought you could use some help.” Orlando was leaning against the bar, one shoe propped on the foot rail.
Elijah smiled. “Sure. Come on around. You can help me put glasses away.”
Orlando moved easily behind the bar, sliding glasses into the upside-down holders when Elijah pointed. He put the last of the specialty glasses away and leaned back against the counter. Elijah was washing up the pint glasses. “Can I help finish those?”
“Nah, take a load off. I just have a few more to go.”
Orlando leaned back on his elbows and watched Elijah fast-dunk two glasses in soapy water, then hot water, then disinfectant. He shook the glasses out over the floor, then slid them into the drying rack.
Orlando was particularly fascinated by the counter-shimmy of Elijah’s hips as his arms moved up and down in the scalding water. Elijah walked in front of him to go pick up a towel. On the return trip, Orlando worried his lower lip between his teeth, his eyes riveted by the curve of Elijah’s neck just at the collar of his t-shirt. The skin there looked smooth. And warm.
Elijah finished drying the glasses and picked up two to return to their rack on the other side of Orlando. Right next to Orlando, actually.
The third time Elijah leaned over the counter next to him, Orlando waited until the glasses were safely on their rubber shelf, Elijah still stretched on tiptoe just inches from his hip.
Orlando reached out and looped a finger through one of Elijah’s belt loops.
Elijah froze. Slowly, he turned his head and lowered his arm. Orlando was staring at the long finger looped through the strip of fabric on Elijah’s chinos.
Elijah waited for…something.
Orlando seemed content to just stand there, one finger in Elijah’s belt loop.
O.kkkkk. Maybe he needs a little…ah, encouragement?
“So…”
Orlando’s head jerked up at the sound of Elijah’s voice.
Elijah looked deliberately down at the finger curled through the belt loop, then back up into dark eyes.
Orlando swallowed. He glanced down, his breathing shallow. Slowly, he tugged on the belt loop. Elijah moved. Orlando tugged until Elijah was standing directly in front of him.
Elijah waited.
Orlando didn’t do any more tugging.
When Elijah finally spoke, his voice was husky. “Now that you’ve got me, what are you going to do with me?”
“Iee…” Orlando cleared his throat. “I…don’t know.” His voice was nearly a whisper. He raised his gaze from where he’d been studying the stitching around the belt loop his finger seemed to be permanently attached to.
Elijah lowered his voice. “If this were a movie, you being the hero and stuff, this is where you’d…kiss the girl.”
Orlando blinked, a small crease forming between his dark brows. “Don’t talk about girls right now.”
Elijah suppressed his smile. “Ok, not a girl. Me.”
Orlando just stood there, staring at Elijah’s mouth. They were standing nearly a foot apart.
Elijah licked his lips. “Uh…it might help if I was…closer.”
Orlando nodded once, slowly. He tugged gently on the belt loop. Elijah took a small step forward. They were still a hand’s width apart.
“Closer.” Elijah whispered the words in the heavy air between them.
Orlando breathed and tugged again. Elijah resisted just a tiny bit. Orlando frowned and pulled harder. Elijah lurched forward, his chest thumping into Orlando’s, one foot caught on the side of a large shoe, hips grazing against one another.
Orlando sucked in a quick breath through his nose.
Elijah froze.
Orlando’s free hand was hovering somewhat uncertainly in the air just to the side of Elijah’s shoulder. The other was still hanging off the loop of his chinos. Heat rolled along their skin under clothes where they touched.
Elijah tilted his head up. His arms were extended, hovering in the air next to his hips, fingers twitching and curling, fighting not to reach out and touch Orlando. Anywhere.
Orlando had to touch him first.
“It’s ok.” Elijah let more of his weight rest against Orlando’s hips and chest. Subtle, gentle pressure.
“What’s ok?” Orlando spoke distractedly, concentrating instead on the soft liquid heat where ever Elijah’s body touched his. His hand flexed in the air by Elijah’s shoulder, his eyes fixated on the curve of throat exposed by Elijah’s t-shirt.
“I won’t break.”
Orlando shook his head. “Yeah. But…I don’t know what…”
“Just…anywhere. It’s ok.”
Brown eyes flickered to blue, saw the dilated permission, and flicked back down to the bare expanse of Elijah’s throat.
Elijah tilted his head to the side.
Orlando’s nostrils flared. He breathed in deeply and wrapped long fingers around the side of Elijah’s neck. Elijah’s eyes blurred then closed when a thumb dragged back and forth along the square line of his jaw.
Orlando turned his hand and dragged the back of his knuckles across Elijah’s cheek, then down. At his lips, the hand turned again and stopped moving. Brown eyes were drawn to the pink moue of Elijah’s mouth, open just so the center of his lips didn’t touch.
Elijah waited, frozen prey. His eyes tracked Orlando’s as they wandered across his face and settled on his mouth. He watched the crease between Orlando’s brows appear and disappear as his concentration intensified.
Jesus fuck, just kiss me…
Orlando turned his hand again, curling fingers under Elijah’s chin, tilting Elijah’s head up, his thumb pressing lightly on the lower curve of Elijah’s mouth. Then he lowered his head.
Elijah closed his eyes. He only had time to breath a quarter breath before the warm press of Orlando’s mouth was gone.
Wait a second…
He opened his eyes. Orlando was staring at his mouth, the furrow between his brows smooth, a half smile curling his mouth. He looked…relieved.
+
That wasn’t so terrible, was it? In fact, that was kind of…well, nice.
Yeah.
Maybe I could try that again?
Orlando lowered his head, this time brushing his mouth back and forth across Elijah’s. Once.
That wasn’t half bad, either.
I could certainly do that ag…
“Orli.”
“Hmmm?...” Orlando’s thumb came up to rub against Elijah’s lower lip again. Elijah reached up and wrapped fingers around the hand holding his chin. Gently he tugged it down.
Orlando frowned and looked at him, trying to pull his hand away. “I thought…”
“My turn.” Elijah half-slid up Orlando’s body, cupped a hand behind his neck and dragged his mouth down. Sucked the fuller lower lip gently between his teeth, licked back and forth against the soft flesh, then slid inside, following the low gasp along the underside of his upper lip and between white, even teeth.
Laved the top of Orlando’s tongue.
Orlando staggered back against the bar, one hand dropping to the counter with a thud, holding himself upright as heat roared through his body, rushing down, heavy and scalding between his legs, between his lips, under the skin where Elijah’s fingers dug into the back of his neck. Elijah tilted his head, perfect angle and licked him again.
Orlando made a sound caught between a groan and a gasp.
Elijah pulled the dark head closer, curling his arm around the back of the smooth-skinned neck until his elbow dragged Orlando’s mouth down harder, more open, more sounds…
Orlando was stunned. Undone by the sudden press-lick-nibble of Elijah’s mouth against, in and around his. He didn’t understand how he’d made it through nineteen years without feeling something just. Like. This…
Elijah sighed and rocked against the waves of dizzy heat, sharp pulsing tingles of flame ignited on the fire silk inside of Orlando’s mouth and traveled down.
Kissing me, kissing me…damn, he taste’s good…
Elijah pulled slightly away. Orlando made a low, helpless sound, the finger in the belt loop bent as his hand pressed urgently against Elijah’s lower back, pushing heat closer to heat.
Elijah tasted the corners of Orlando’s lips, lightly pressing open kisses to each soft centimeter, chasing a hesitant taste back and forth across the open barrier. He reached for Orlando’s sweater, tugging upwards until he could slide his hand underneath. The warm thin cotton of Orlando’s t-shirt grazed his palm as he slid a hand up Orlando’s chest. He rested his palm just to the right of the defined chest muscle and moved his thumb. Searched, then felt the tiny nipple pebble hard instantly.
Orlando jerked against him, his other hand snapping down to grab at Elijah’s hip, pulling him up, slide dragging hard cotton against hard denim just once before letting Elijah slide back to his heels. Elijah grazed the nipple again, flicking the side of his thumb first back and forth, then round and round, before sliding hard over the tip again.
Orlando was mindlessly hard, lift-pushing back against the gradually steady rocking of Elijah’s hips, thrusting into the friction of denim and hip and hard-ons. The thought should have freaked him the fuck out, but every grind against Elijah’s heat, Elijah’s mouth…shoved him blindly towards…
The hand on his chest slid out from under his sweater. Orlando opened his mouth and protested with a strange, strangled sound he couldn’t believe and didn’t care had come from him. He opened his eyes when he felt the urgent tug of Elijah’s hand on his tucked-in t-shirt.
Elijah stared up at him, eyes half lowered. He watched Orlando. Orlando watched his hand slid under the edge of sweater and shirt. Up against bare skin, slowing as the fingers settled and the palm followed, grazing behind skin that was burning.
“Oh, god…” Orlando’s whisper broke apart. He trembled with heat, harder than he’d ever been - diamond grinding hard - his breath rabbiting across Elijah’s temple, sucking down hot air and the scent of Elijah’s skin.
Elijah moved. He slid to the side and pushed a thigh hard between Orlando’s legs. Orlando slid down and shifted instinctively, rocking his hips open to accommodate the press invasion of Elijah’s thigh. Hard. Against his erection.
“Oh. My fucking god…don’t…” The whisper shattered from between Orlando’s lips. The corners of his eyes stung, the heat of reaction overwhelming. Terrifying.
Elijah’s bare fingers caught up with the hard, aching point of a bronze nipple. He’s so close, so close I can taste it… A thumb rubbed gently back and forth. Orlando choked out a broken hiss, his fingers digging into firm flesh under cotton.
God, we’re in a bar in a bar in a bar…
Fingers pinched and flicked and pinched again, a bizarre triple-time stroke against the forceful rhythmic shove of Elijah’s leg sliding just there against him and suddenly he was there...
Orlando jerked his head down against Elijah’s throat, fingers digging hard into the narrow hips rocking against his. “Nononono…ohfuck…” Orlando growled along Elijah’s skin, shaking against him as he jerked and came, rocking hard pulses against Elijah’s thigh.
Elijah strangled down an elated chuckle and rode out the shudders, pushing harder, rolling the tight nipple between the tips of his fingers, thrilled to his core at Orlando’s sudden beauty and loss of control.
Orlando squeezed Elijah’s hips and the shudders stopped. His face was still buried in the crook of Elijah’s neck. He could feel the rigid length of Elijah’s hard-on still straddling his thigh. He breathed fractured half-sobs against Elijah’s skin.
Abruptly he straightened, one hand pushing Elijah’s hand away, out from under his sweater, the other pushing at his chest, shoving him away. He scrambled away awkwardly, spinning around to face the bar.
“God DAMN it.” Orlando’s head dropped between his shoulders, arms braced straight and trembling against the bar.
Elijah hovered behind him, hands still hanging in the air near his chest, stunned at being so abruptly let go. His hand still tingled from the smooth heat of Orlando’s chest, his nostrils still suck-dragging gulps of air, junkies for the scent of Orlando’s arousal. His release.
Elijah shivered and lowered his arms.
And waited.
There was probably nothing he could say to fix whatever…trauma Orlando was suffering about just having been dry-humped to orgasm. Standing up. In a bar. By a guy.
Oh, god. Please just…don’t walk away and pretend that didn’t happen.
Elijah wasn’t breathing when Orlando finally raised his head. Orlando brushed a hand across the back of his eyes and spun around. He reached out as he turned, snagging Elijah around the neck and tucking him firmly against his chest, the other hand grazing over a hip as he lowered his head.
Elijah’s mouth was still parted in shock as Orlando’s lips rocked hot and slick against his. Soft delving tongue between the parted lips, nudging closer and deeper until Elijah had to grab a fist full of sweater to stay upright.
Orlando broke the kiss, leaned his forehead against Elijah’s and licked his lips. “I…that was…I’m sorry I…but it was…” Orlando swallowed, lifting his head with a nervous smile and a delicate blush. “Sorry.”
Elijah gaped at him.
The furrow reappeared between Orlando’s eyebrows. “Lij? Are you?...I didn’t mean to…umm…” Orlando blushed, beet red to the tips of his ears.
Elijah shook his head, loosening his death grip on Orlando’s sweater, patting his chest absentmindedly, his eyes still wide. “Shut up. It was beautiful. You’re beautiful. I should go.”
Orlando’s frown deepened into worry. “But…I…don’t you wanna. You’re still…I mean, I’m not really sure what to, I mean I know, but I haven’t ever…well, except on myself, but…”
Elijah choked down a half-stunned, half-horny desperate chuckle and laid three fingertips against Orlando’s slightly trembling mouth. “Not…tonight. I think you’ve…I think that’s enough trauma for one night. For you.”
Orlando’s eyebrows shot up. “I’m not…” He drew a shuddering breath. “…traumatized. Shocked, maybe. Overwhelmed, definitely. I had no idea my…uh, that…” Orlando gestured at his own chest. “…was so, um…sensitive.” The last word came out husky and slow. He squeezed Elijah’s shoulders awkwardly.
Suddenly, it clicked.
Orlando Bloom, quarterback, team captain, teacher’s pet, cheerleader darling, hero to all and enemy to none was not going to beat the living shit out of him for molesting him in a dark bar. Not only was he not going to beat the shit out of him, he was standing there, talking about his newly discovered ‘sensitivity’, and looking with definite…no, earnest interest at the half-hard lump in the front of Elijah’s khakis.
The click set off a chain reaction.
Elijah’s smile was predatory as he moved both legs to the outsides of Orlando’s thighs and leaned forward, tugging gently on Orlando’s collar. Down. Orlando’s breath hitched and he dropped his head. Eagerly. Fell hot open-mouthed into the kiss.
Elijah shivered and nudged his head, tracing a lip line around the side of Orlando’s jaw. The dark head lowered and turned in encouragement, a feline nudge of affection.
“Why don’t you show me…” Elijah murmured into the sensitive curve of Orlando’s ear. He added a gentle bite to the soft lobe, just for good measure.
Orlando made a small, wordless sound. “Nggh…sha…show you what…exactly…”
Elijah continued his journey along the swirling contours of Orlando’s ear, reaching up to drag his fingers down the side of the long throat, over the collar of the sweater and faster down until, there, through the wool and cotton layer he found the other nipple. And rubbed. “Show me what you know how to do to yourself. But on me.”
Orlando grabbed the back of Elijah’s shirt, crushing the fabric between fingers as he struggled to stay upright at the thought of demonstrating his…technique…on Elijah. “Ohgod.”
“Where are you?”
Orlando arched his neck into a particularly delicious curl of Elijah’s lips. “Wha…what?”
“Where do you usually do it?” Elijah slowly reached up and wrapped his fingers loosely around Orlando’s wrist. Orlando unclenched his hand and let Elijah tug it down the front of his chest.
Orlando licked his lips, panting gentle between them. “Um…the shower.”
“Great fucking image. What first?” Elijah released Orlando’s hand, tentatively. Orlando left it pressed lightly against the flat curve of Elijah’s stomach. Elijah flicked open his own fly, silently dragging down the zipper. He gently pushed his boxers down just enough to bare the soft trail under his navel. He stroked a fingertip up the underside of Orlando’s wrist. “Show me, Orli. Do you start…all at once?”
Orlando hacked out a low moan, his fingers pressing into the warmth of Elijah’s stomach. He was breathing rapidly again, focused on the heat under his fingertips. He wondered if Elijah’s skin would feel even hotter. The thought had him scrunching the tail of Elijah’s shirt up until he could trail his fingertips against the bare hot skin. He felt the divot of Elijah’s navel and slid a fingertip around around inside.
Elijah jerked against him with a sharp intake of breath. Orlando regained some focus. His eyes unglazed and he looked down at his hand moving gently under the rucked up hem of Elijah’s shirt. He swirled a finger tip again and smiled when Elijah moaned and shifted restlessly against him.
The thought that he could make Mr.I’ll-just-play-with-your-nipple-and-make-you-come react with a moan was oddly thrilling. He decided that more moaning was definitely in order. “No. Usually I…” Orlando slid his hand down further, holding his breath. He felt the soft down of hair along the underside of Elijah’s stomach and slid his hand even further down, fingertips gliding under the elastic waistband of boxers, only mildly confused at the lack of button or zipper in his way. He froze at the first silk burning contact of hard cock and fingertip.
Elijah gasped and quit breathing, his head arching back, eyes opening to stare into Orlando’s.
Please, don’t stop…
Orlando felt a stab of something primitive strike in the core between his thighs. He swallowed and cleared his throat. “Usually I start with a…teasing…” He dragged fingers down the hard length in his hand. “…exploration.” He delved in the hot, damp pressed space between their hips and found the silkiest, wet-throbbing tip of Elijah’s cock. He curled fingers along the underside, gave a gentle, experimental squeeze, and grazed the tip with the flat of his thumb.
Elijah cursed and thrust awkwardly into the touch, hands clutching at Orlando’s waist. “Fuck, do that again…”
“Did…do you…like that?”
Elijah’s harsh laugh was cut short by another tentative curl slide press of long fingers. “Jesus, Orli…yes, I…like it.”
Orlando breathed out an encouraging word against Elijah’s temple and dragged his fingers again.
Elijah cupped his hand around the back of Orlando’s neck and pulled his mouth down. He kissed him slanted wet and half sliding against parted lips, then whispered against them. “But…harder.”
Orlando kissed him, hard. Snaked an arm around Elijah’s waist and half turned him, twisted his hand for a better grip and squeezed-slid long fingers and palm in a firm stroke. And another. And another. Awkward for the first few, until he figured out the counter rhythm of stroke, rub, tongue-thrust that had Elijah scrabbling against his sweater, low growls of pleasure, surely, winding around his tongue.
Orlando felt the trembling stillness of Elijah’s hips, his thrusts narrowing to tiny digs into Orlando’s fist. Orlando stilled his hand and squeezed, thumb rubbing in quick circles over the head. Elijah jerked his head back and yowled, came jerking and cursing against Orlando’s throat.
Elijah hung by the arm around Orlando’s neck and grabbed the front of Orlando’s sweater. “Jesus fucking Christ, warn a guy before you do that. I think you melted my brain.”
Orlando lifted his hand from between their bodies and…
Blushed.
“Damn, that was amazing. If I’d known your hands were amazing on things other than footballs, I’d have attacked you on the bus the other night. Here.” Elijah reached around Orlando’s waist for a towel and handed it to Orlando. “Made a mess there, didn’t I? Sorry about that. Probably freaking you the fuck out, right about now. Suppose I could have been polite and done it in my chinos, but…you…oh, right. My bad.”
Orlando blushed harder and took the towel, wiping his hand with a slight grimace.
Elijah grinned and tucked himself back in, zipping up and leaned back against the bar next to Orlando. “Here, let me have that.” Elijah reached for the towel. “Better not let Uncle Vig…”
“’Lij.”
“…see the…yeah?”
“Are you always this…chatty? After?”
Elijah paused in his absentminded straightening of Orlando’s sweater, he drew away, moving slightly back from Orlando against the bar. “Sorry. Sorry, I’ll just…”
“Lij, relax.” Orlando reached out and snagged Elijah by his neck, dragging him against his chest again. “I’m just teasing.”
Elijah rested his palms lightly on Orlando’s chest. “Oh.”
“And I’m only…slightly freaked out, ok?”
Elijah nodded, then a furrow appeared between his brow. “Does that mean you might…possibly…you know…do this again?”
Orlando’s lips twitched. “No way.”
Elijah’s heart lurched into his throat, the blood draining from his face as he went stiff against Orlando.
Orlando tightened his arm and leaned forward. “You can find someone else to help you clean up the bar.” He nuzzled the warm damp skin just under Elijah’s ear. “But I wouldn’t mind making out with you again.”
Orlando laughed when Elijah pinched him and called him several unflattering names.
Type: LOTR RPS AU
Author: deleerium
Pairing: Orlando/Elijah
Rating: R
Summary: Orlando’s the small town quarterback. Elijah’s a transfer student with football savvy.
Disclaimer: here.
Notes: Thanks to my darling beta, summerfly!
Elijah jumped off the loading dock and hit the pavement at a dead run. Four buses and one truck were loaded and ready to roll, lights on, engines running. He raced towards the open door of the first bus, ignoring the drizzle that dampened his hair.
He hit the wet rubber stairs and a foot slipped out from under him. He landed on the top stair hard with both palms, his sports bag clattering against the open door. He cursed and scrambled into the bus, panting as he pulled himself up to the front and turned down the aisle.
The bus was packed full of football players. Elijah’s eyes darted back and forth as he took a couple hesitant steps forward, looking for a place to sit.
Part of the problem was that the average football player took up an entire bench on a bus.
The bus moved and Elijah lurched forward, one hand fumbling against a seat back for balance. He took two awkward tripping steps forward before his ankle twisted and he headed for the floor.
A long arm snagged him by the waistband of his pants and yanked him back and down into a seat. Elijah sat down with a whoosh and heard a grunt as his sports bag collided with the guy in the seat.
The bag slid to the floor in a heap and Elijah turned to apologize. His mouth hung open for a few seconds before any sound came out. He swallowed and tried again. “Sorry, Orli. Thanks.”
“No problem.” Orlando reached between his legs for Elijah’s bag, shoving it under the seat in front of them.
Elijah scooted as far to the edge of the seat as possible, trying to put space between his shoulder, hip, thigh and the heat of the young man next to him. He scooted so far out that he swayed jerkily to the side, nearly falling into the aisle again.
A hand snagged the sleeve of his shirt and pulled him upright again. “Relax, Wood.” Orlando dragged Elijah across the seat until he was settled firmly on the cool vinyl. Elijah’s hip and thigh were pressed against Orlando’s. Orlando crooked his arm over the back of the seat, giving Elijah shoulder room.
Elijah glanced briefly at Orlando before turning away, staring distractedly down at the floor. “Yeah, um. So what are the facilities in Brownwood like?”
“Nuevo riche. Their lockers are made out of oak and there’s a full service kitchen.” Orlando leaned back against the cool window, half turning, his arm stretched out behind Elijah’s shoulders.
Elijah cleared his throat, acutely aware of the hard thigh pressed against his through two layers of denim. He shifted forward on the seat until he could no longer sense the heat of Orlando’s arm near his back. “Wow. Sounds…nice.”
Orlando nodded and turned his head, the fingers of one hand resting at the corner of his mouth. “Yeah.” He stared out the window.
Their silence was, strangely enough, comfortable.
The buses were making progress down a state highway when Elijah cleared his throat and shifted on the seat, finally settling back against the warm vinyl. Orlando let Elijah’s weight rest against his forearm for a moment, felt the heat of the other man through the cotton of his polo, the twin rise of his shoulder blades against the inside of his arm.
In a few seconds, Orlando shifted, moving his arm back until it was held up only by long fingers curled over the top of the rectangular cushion, just an inch on the outside of Elijah’s shoulders, his elbow dangling behind the seat.
He could still feel the imprint where Elijah’s heat had touched his skin.
+
It was pitch black, near freezing and drizzling steadily by the time Elijah staggered into the half-empty bus. The rest of the team slowly trickled in from the showers, their exhaustion apparent. They’d won by a fluke. Had the other team actually made the last field goal, their spirits would be much lower. As it was, a sharp lecture by all three coaches had left most of the team drained.
The weather had not helped Elijah’s attempt to keep the team either warm or hydrated. He’d spent most of the game sprinting back and forth to the kitchen with microwave heating pads and trying to keep Gatorade in and rainwater out of the dozens of cups next to the coolers.
Elijah rubbed his hand through his hair, grimacing as the near freezing water dribbled down the back of his neck. He hitched his bag up on his shoulder and staggered to the unusually empty back row of the bus.
Dom and Billy looked up from their exhausted stupor as he walked by. Elijah made a fist and after a moment of hesitation, tapped Dom lightly on the shoulder in empathy as he walked past. Dom reached out and patted Elijah high on his thigh in return. Elijah smiled crooked, watching as Billy’s head dropped to Dom’s shoulder. Dom leaned back comfortably on the seat, apparently oblivious to the other young man leaning on him. Elijah stared for a moment, then headed down the aisle.
These guys are a lot…closer that my team back home.
Elijah threw himself into a corner of the back seat, his bag sliding to the floor in a heap. He leaned back against the cold glass and closed his eyes, listening to the steady beat of rain on the metal roof, the occasional clatter of the door opening, the shift of the bus as someone made their way down the aisle.
The door opened again. Elijah sighed and crossed his arms over his chest, trying to get warm. His Lockhart letter jacket was still on back-order and he hadn’t felt comfortable wearing the one from his old high school - not at his first away game.
He felt the long back bench give as someone sat down and his eyes flashed open.
Orlando leaned back in the opposite corner, shoulder and temple pressed against the glass, eyes closed, his hair and shirt damp from either rain or shower, Elijah couldn’t really tell. He looked exhausted. And uncomfortable.
Elijah cleared his throat, and turned to stare out the window. Within a few minutes, they were on their way out of the parking lot.
Elijah watched as Orlando’s head kept falling forward in sleep, only to jerk upright and then roll with a grimace against the cold window.
Elijah dug under the seat and pulled out his athletic bag - it was full of spare clothes, a few dry towels and his shower gear. He dragged it onto the seat next to him. Slowly he leaned across the long bench and tapped Orlando on the shoulder. “Hey.”
Orlando’s eyes opened with a jerk. “Yeah?” He sat up straight and ran a hand through his hair, knees folded, feet resting on the long bench.
“Here, do you wanna use this…for a pillow or something?” Elijah half-lifted the bag towards Orlando.
Orlando stared at the bag, looked up at Elijah, flashed a tired smile and reached for the bag. “Thanks.” Orlando dropped the bag back on the seat next to Elijah. Before Elijah could summon the breath to squeak, Orlando shoved the bag against his thigh, spun around in the seat and thumped his head down on the bag, legs folded and tucked along the rest of the bench. His dark curls just brushed the top of Elijah’s thigh. He scrunched back into the seat and sighed deeply.
After a few minutes, Elijah let out the breath he’d been holding. He shifted slightly in the seat, scooting down and propping one knee up on the seat in front of him. He stretched his arm out along the seat back, sighed quietly and leaned against the seat cushion, rolling his head so that he could look down at Orlando.
Elijah jumped at the sound of a low voice.
“Unlike the rest of us, he’s on the field for most of every game. We usually leave the back seat for him to crash afterwards.” Dom settled into the empty seat just in front of Elijah.
“Oh. Shit. I didn’t know.” Elijah made a motion to get up.
Dom hissed quietly and laid a hand on his arm. “Don’t, you’ll wake him up.”
Elijah glanced down at Orlando. Orlando sighed in sleep and shifted, sliding an arm under the bag. Elijah’s heart rate slurred into high speed. Orlando’s arm was pressed along the side of his thigh. Elijah felt the rise of knuckles where they rested against his hip. He glanced back up at Dom, his eyes wide.
Dom slapped him on the shoulder. “Just let him sleep, ok? He worked hard tonight. And I don’t think he bites.” Dom grinned and disappeared up the aisle.
Elijah let his head drop back onto the seat with a silent moan.
+
Twenty minutes later and Elijah’s arm was officially numb. He lifted it off the back of the seat and stretched it out over the dark head pressed against his thigh. Very carefully, Elijah laid his arm down on top of his thigh. Dark curls brushed the back of his arm, making the hair stand up. He curled his fingers into a fist, resisting the urge to touch just one of the damp locks.
He raised his arm quickly when the reclining form suddenly twisted with a grunt, turning on the seat until he curled the other direction, facing Elijah. Orlando sighed deeply and rocked his head down into the bag. He slid an elbow up under his cheek and curled his shoulder up. Elijah watched the folds of soft wool sweater shift over muscle as Orlando got comfortable again. In a few moments, his breathing was deep and even.
Elijah still had his arm raised partially above his head. He looked carefully at Orlando’s face. His lips were half-parted, eyelashes still and black against the smooth skin of his cheeks.
Gingerly, Elijah lowered his arm, his hand hovering over the wool-covered shoulder. Light as a breath, he dropped the pads of his fingers against the soft wool, his eyes darting to Orlando’s face. There was no movement from the sleeping form. Gradually, Elijah let the weight of his hand and arm rest on the curve of Orlando’s shoulder. Finally settled, he sighed and relaxed into the seat.
He leaned back and closed his eyes.
He was just drifting off when the bus hit a bump. Elijah tightened his hand, holding Orlando steady against the suddenly swaying bus. Orlando shifted against him, the heat of his shoulder warm against Elijah’s palm.
Without thought, Elijah shushed him softly and moved his hand, petting his fingers through Orlando’s dark curls, he dragged the back of his knuckles over a warm cheek, then stroked his hand through the curls again, thumb smoothing over a temple before returning the hand to cup possessively around the curve of a broad shoulder.
Elijah froze, suddenly aware that he’d just petted the captain of the football team. A flush of pink covered his cheeks as he slowly opened his eyes and looked down at Orlando. The flush deepened and spread to the back of his neck when he saw that Orlando’s eyes were open, watching him.
+
Orlando had felt a flush of something intangibly warm chase away some of his fatigue when he stepped on the bus and saw Elijah already sprawled in the back. He suppressed the desire to grin as he quickly moved to the back and sat on the opposite end of the bench.
He’d felt a shiver of awareness when Elijah touched his arm and asked if he wanted to use his bag as a pillow. It was only after Orlando lay down that he realized perhaps Elijah hadn’t meant for him to lay down with his head nearly in his lap.
When Elijah didn’t immediately protest, Orlando decided it was ok. Within minutes, the near warmth of Elijah and exhaustion from the game tempted him into a light sleep.
He woke to the warmth of a hand first holding him steady against the bus’s rocking, then fingers grazing lightly through his hair, along his cheek, and deliciously sliding against his scalp again before settling warmly in place on his shoulder. He opened his eyes, still blurry with fatigue and looked up into a wide blue gaze.
And smiled.
The hand on his shoulder tightened, a thumb rubbing soft against the wool.
Orlando closed his eyes, pushed up and rolled closer to Elijah, into the warmth of the hand on his shoulder and drifted back into oblivion.
For about ten seconds.
He rolled back abruptly, his eyes opening as he lifted himself half up on an elbow, staring at Elijah with wide dark eyes in the dim light of the bus.
Elijah snatched his hand away, curling it up against his chest, staring at Orlando.
The bus moved slowly down the two lane highway.
Elijah’s chest rose and fell in shallow dips, his heart stuttering behind his ribs as he waited for Orlando to yell, hit him, jump up, something…
Slowly, Orlando lowered himself back to the pillow of Elijah’s bag and thigh, his eyes still open, watching. His lips were slightly parted, his own breathing shallow as he laid the top of his head deliberately against Elijah’s thigh. He heard the soft ratchet of Elijah’s breath as he settled down.
Eyes locked, they stared at one another as Elijah, very slowly, reached out and set his hand back on Orlando’s shoulder. They stayed frozen for a long minute.
Orlando blinked, then closed his eyes.
Elijah relaxed, leaned back against the seat. He squeezed the shoulder under his hand gently and closed his eyes.
+
“How long have you and Buffy been going out?”
Orlando looked up from his books with a start. Elijah set down two beers and slid into the booth across from Orlando.
Orlando cleared his throat and reached for the new beer. He took a long swallow, then leaned back in the booth, contemplating Elijah.
Last night, Orlando woke up as they pulled into the school parking lot. He’d stared up at Elijah’s slack features for a few seconds before sitting up and moving to the other side of the back seat.
Elijah was fast asleep, head lolling against the seat cushion. He jerked awake abruptly, his eyes blinking in the overhead lights as the bus door opened. He cast a glance at Orlando.
Orlando looked back, then dropped his gaze. There was a feint tinge of pink high on his cheeks. He’d grabbed his jacket and left the bus.
Orlando thought about blue eyes and warm fingers all the way home. He sat outside his house, the radio off, for nearly an hour. Contemplating the sound of the rain against his windshield.
Tonight, it had taken him nearly ten minutes to work up the courage to go into the bar after Buffy left with James. When he’d finally pushed open the door and walked inside, Viggo had been the only person behind the counter.
That had been over two hours ago.
“I’m sorry, what was that again?”
“You and Buffy? How long?” Elijah was fiddling with a coaster on the table.
Orlando watched the tip of Elijah’s fingers flip, rub, curl over the rotating edge of the cardboard square. He flushed as an image of those fingertips flipping, rubbing, curling over skin flashed with startling clarity through his brain. “Uh…since freshman year. But we’ve known each other since we were kids.”
Elijah cleared his throat. “You ever gone out with anyone else?”
“No.”
“And you and Buffy are still…together?”
Orlando cleared his throat. “Of course.” Liar, liar, LIAR. He reached quickly for his beer.
“Really? So why did she get into a car with that other guy when you got here?”
Orlando sputtered and beer dribbled down his chin. He fumbled for a napkin. “I…uh…”
“Look, I’m not going to tell anyone, I was just wondering why you two were pretending to be girlfriend and boyfriend.”
“Pre…pretending?” Orlando’s voice broke.
Elijah’s eyes were bright and steady. “Yes, Orli. Pretending. She treats you like a kid brother, not a boyfriend. And you spend most of your Friday and Saturday nights here, not out with her like you tell everyone you are. But it’s cool. I was just curious, that’s all.”
Orlando stared at him in silence.
Elijah blushed, pushed his half-finished beer away, and slid to the outside of the booth. “I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have said anything. I’ll let you get back to…”
“Don’t go.” Orlando reached out and laid his hand over Elijah’s on the table. Elijah’s fingers shivered under his, the warm rise of his knuckles pressing against the curve of Orlando’s palm.
Elijah stared down at the long fingers trapping his own.
Orlando quickly snatched his hand back, rubbing his palm on his jeans.
“Ok.” Elijah slowly lowered himself down in the booth and reached for his beer. “So…what are you working on, there?”
Orlando dragged his eyes down from Elijah’s and stared at the open book in front of him. “I have an essay to finish on post-modernism in literature before Monday.”
Elijah grinned. “Bleugh.”
Orlando laughed and raised his glass in a salute.
+
Three beers and two hours later, Elijah was kneeling up on the booth, arms akimbo, eyes bright and face grimacing as he re-enacted one of his assistant manager’s failed attempts at flying down a set of bleachers during practice.
Orlando was laughing, slapping his hand on the table as Elijah did an imitation of the slightly awkward freshman. He wiped his eyes and sighed as Elijah dropped with a thud back to the booth cushion.
Orlando propped his chin on one hand and sighed an inebriated sigh. “’Lij?”
“Yeah, Orli?”
“Have you ever just thought about people…like, other than girls?”
Elijah sobered instantly, his heart thumping quietly in his chest. “Thought about other people how?”
Orlando shrugged and took another sip of his beer, staring down in the bottom of the glass before raising his gaze to Elijah’s. “I dunno. Like…” Orlando cleared his throat. “Sexually.”
“Have I ever just thought about ‘people’ other than girls, sexually? You mean, guys?”
Orlando nodded jerkily and stared down at his drink.
“No.”
Orlando’s face flamed. “Oh.”
“I’ve done more than just think about guys.”
Orlando’s eyes widened as he looked at Elijah. “Really?” He squeaked and cleared his throat. “How…how much more? If you don’t mind me…um, asking.”
Elijah shrugged, his own cheeks tinged pink. “Not much. Just…not everything. Not even close.”
“Elijah! Could you help an old man out?”
Elijah and Orlando both started. Elijah cleared his throat and slid out of the booth, picking up their empty glasses. “I’ve…I’ve got to go…help out.”
“Yeah.” Orlando was staring down at his coaster, the tips of his ears a bright shade of pink.
“Orli?”
Orlando looked up, dark eyes searching bright blue. “Yeah?”
“If you ever…I mean. I…I’d be ok if you…I mean…uh…oh, fuck it.” Elijah spun away from the table and headed back for the bar.
+
On Monday, Orlando was on the field before Elijah had even changed clothes.
On Tuesday, Elijah spent practice unpacking new gear and re-organizing the equipment room. He studiously avoided looking at the worn wood of the door Orlando had been leaning against all those days ago.
On Wednesday, Elijah looked up from folding towels to find a still sweaty, wet, mud-covered (it had rained all day), ratty-uniform-wearing Orlando staring at him from the open door to the loading dock.
Dom came running up behind Orlando and slapped him on the back. Orlando turned and grabbed Dom in a head lock, dragging him out of sight behind a row of lockers.
+
I can do this.
“Lij?”
Elijah looked up. His eyes didn’t get any further than the strip of tan chest and muscled stomach outlined by two inconsequential folds of a pale plaid shirt. One elbow rested against the wall of lockers, bent bicep and forearm bulging out of the short sleeve, head propped up on a nervous hand, hip cocked to the side and the other hand stuffed deep into jeans that were just too-large enough to creep to the underside of a slender hip bone.
Jesus fucking Christ, don’t sneak up on a guy all…sexy like that.
Elijah tried to drag his eye up further than Orlando’s half-naked torso. They locked on the damp concave lick-me, oh please lick-me hollow at the base of his throat.
Fuck, I love locker rooms.
“Uh…Yeah?”
Look up. Look up. Look…oh, fuck it.
“I was wondering…” Orlando cleared his throat and looked over his shoulder at the other guys still getting dressed in the locker room.
Elijah looked down. Shit. Even his toes are fuckin’ pretty.
Orlando turned back to Elijah. He leaned closer, bending at the waist, his supporting arm flexing, his mouth just outside Elijah’s ear.
Elijah’s hand fumbled for the metal edge of his locker, knuckles white as the breathy scent of soap, Curve and freshly showered Orlando wafted across his cheek.
“I’d like to…”
Spread your half-naked self on the floor and ask me to teach you everything I know? Absolutely. Now would be fucking fabulous.
Orlando’s voice faded back into Elijah’s awareness. “…is that…cool?”
Elijah breathed out through his nose, then sucked in another deep breath. He turned slightly towards Orlando, until his nose was a centimeter from being tucked into the curve of Orlando’s neck, just under his ear. When he spoke, it came out as a husky murmur. “Hmmm…what was that, Orli?”
Elijah watched the goose-flesh ripple across Orlando’s throat, heard the sharp little tuck of breath as his words rocked across Orlando’s ear lobe.
“Oh, god. You…me. Get a beer. After game tomorrow. I…ok?”
Elijah nodded slowly, watching a pulse jump under thin skin. “Yeah.”
Orlando let out a short puff of air. “Cool.” He spun around and took a step towards his locker. He winced and surreptitiously adjusted himself.
He wasn’t even going to think about why a guy whispering for one second into his ear had given him the fastest, most painful hard-on he’d had in years.
Orlando slung his backpack over his shoulder, stepped into his boots, slammed his locker shut and started on his shirt buttons as he headed for the parking lot.
Ok, ever.
+
Orlando cleared his throat as Elijah slid into the booth and pushed a beer across the table. “Thanks.”
“Good game.” Elijah raised his beer in a toast.
Orlando raised his in return, the corners of his lips curving up. The clink of their glasses was interrupted by the sound of the front door banging open. A group of a dozen or so men poured into the bar. Their loud voices and raucous calls for the bartended made it clear this was not the first bar they’d visited.
“Fuck.” Elijah breathed the word softly. He scooted to the edge of the booth and leaned out.
Viggo came hurrying down the aisle.
“I’m sorry, Elijah. It’s a bachelor party. There’s no way I can take care of them and keep up with the rest of the room. Could you…?”
Elijah glanced at Orlando. “I…”
Orlando waved him out of the booth with a small smile. “Go ahead. My books are in the car. I’ll just get them.”
Elijah considered leaning forward and impulsively kissing Orlando’s temple in gratitude. He decided against it.
This. Them. Us. There was a heavy flavor of importance that made up the center of what he was feeling for Orlando. Something warm and tingly down under his skin. He could feel it every time one of them caught the other looking. And he could feel Orlando’s uncertainty, his hesitation, the newness and fear all rolled up into blushing looks and the occasional brutal, stripping stare of those dark eyes.
That was why he was going to leave the first move up to Orlando.
Elijah snorted as he tied an apron around his waist and headed for the loud group of men.
Of course, I’m probably going to be thirty before he actually works up the nerve to make a move…
+
“Don’t forget to put the crates outside for delivery. And lock the side door.”
Elijah grinned and waved his uncle out the door. “I know how to close down, Uncle Vig. Scram.”
Elijah shut the front door behind his uncle. He glanced at his watch. It was well after two. They’d finally had to kick out the lingering bachelor party, calling cabs to take them home.
Elijah turned around. He hesitated before walking back towards the bar.
“Thought you could use some help.” Orlando was leaning against the bar, one shoe propped on the foot rail.
Elijah smiled. “Sure. Come on around. You can help me put glasses away.”
Orlando moved easily behind the bar, sliding glasses into the upside-down holders when Elijah pointed. He put the last of the specialty glasses away and leaned back against the counter. Elijah was washing up the pint glasses. “Can I help finish those?”
“Nah, take a load off. I just have a few more to go.”
Orlando leaned back on his elbows and watched Elijah fast-dunk two glasses in soapy water, then hot water, then disinfectant. He shook the glasses out over the floor, then slid them into the drying rack.
Orlando was particularly fascinated by the counter-shimmy of Elijah’s hips as his arms moved up and down in the scalding water. Elijah walked in front of him to go pick up a towel. On the return trip, Orlando worried his lower lip between his teeth, his eyes riveted by the curve of Elijah’s neck just at the collar of his t-shirt. The skin there looked smooth. And warm.
Elijah finished drying the glasses and picked up two to return to their rack on the other side of Orlando. Right next to Orlando, actually.
The third time Elijah leaned over the counter next to him, Orlando waited until the glasses were safely on their rubber shelf, Elijah still stretched on tiptoe just inches from his hip.
Orlando reached out and looped a finger through one of Elijah’s belt loops.
Elijah froze. Slowly, he turned his head and lowered his arm. Orlando was staring at the long finger looped through the strip of fabric on Elijah’s chinos.
Elijah waited for…something.
Orlando seemed content to just stand there, one finger in Elijah’s belt loop.
O.kkkkk. Maybe he needs a little…ah, encouragement?
“So…”
Orlando’s head jerked up at the sound of Elijah’s voice.
Elijah looked deliberately down at the finger curled through the belt loop, then back up into dark eyes.
Orlando swallowed. He glanced down, his breathing shallow. Slowly, he tugged on the belt loop. Elijah moved. Orlando tugged until Elijah was standing directly in front of him.
Elijah waited.
Orlando didn’t do any more tugging.
When Elijah finally spoke, his voice was husky. “Now that you’ve got me, what are you going to do with me?”
“Iee…” Orlando cleared his throat. “I…don’t know.” His voice was nearly a whisper. He raised his gaze from where he’d been studying the stitching around the belt loop his finger seemed to be permanently attached to.
Elijah lowered his voice. “If this were a movie, you being the hero and stuff, this is where you’d…kiss the girl.”
Orlando blinked, a small crease forming between his dark brows. “Don’t talk about girls right now.”
Elijah suppressed his smile. “Ok, not a girl. Me.”
Orlando just stood there, staring at Elijah’s mouth. They were standing nearly a foot apart.
Elijah licked his lips. “Uh…it might help if I was…closer.”
Orlando nodded once, slowly. He tugged gently on the belt loop. Elijah took a small step forward. They were still a hand’s width apart.
“Closer.” Elijah whispered the words in the heavy air between them.
Orlando breathed and tugged again. Elijah resisted just a tiny bit. Orlando frowned and pulled harder. Elijah lurched forward, his chest thumping into Orlando’s, one foot caught on the side of a large shoe, hips grazing against one another.
Orlando sucked in a quick breath through his nose.
Elijah froze.
Orlando’s free hand was hovering somewhat uncertainly in the air just to the side of Elijah’s shoulder. The other was still hanging off the loop of his chinos. Heat rolled along their skin under clothes where they touched.
Elijah tilted his head up. His arms were extended, hovering in the air next to his hips, fingers twitching and curling, fighting not to reach out and touch Orlando. Anywhere.
Orlando had to touch him first.
“It’s ok.” Elijah let more of his weight rest against Orlando’s hips and chest. Subtle, gentle pressure.
“What’s ok?” Orlando spoke distractedly, concentrating instead on the soft liquid heat where ever Elijah’s body touched his. His hand flexed in the air by Elijah’s shoulder, his eyes fixated on the curve of throat exposed by Elijah’s t-shirt.
“I won’t break.”
Orlando shook his head. “Yeah. But…I don’t know what…”
“Just…anywhere. It’s ok.”
Brown eyes flickered to blue, saw the dilated permission, and flicked back down to the bare expanse of Elijah’s throat.
Elijah tilted his head to the side.
Orlando’s nostrils flared. He breathed in deeply and wrapped long fingers around the side of Elijah’s neck. Elijah’s eyes blurred then closed when a thumb dragged back and forth along the square line of his jaw.
Orlando turned his hand and dragged the back of his knuckles across Elijah’s cheek, then down. At his lips, the hand turned again and stopped moving. Brown eyes were drawn to the pink moue of Elijah’s mouth, open just so the center of his lips didn’t touch.
Elijah waited, frozen prey. His eyes tracked Orlando’s as they wandered across his face and settled on his mouth. He watched the crease between Orlando’s brows appear and disappear as his concentration intensified.
Jesus fuck, just kiss me…
Orlando turned his hand again, curling fingers under Elijah’s chin, tilting Elijah’s head up, his thumb pressing lightly on the lower curve of Elijah’s mouth. Then he lowered his head.
Elijah closed his eyes. He only had time to breath a quarter breath before the warm press of Orlando’s mouth was gone.
Wait a second…
He opened his eyes. Orlando was staring at his mouth, the furrow between his brows smooth, a half smile curling his mouth. He looked…relieved.
+
That wasn’t so terrible, was it? In fact, that was kind of…well, nice.
Yeah.
Maybe I could try that again?
Orlando lowered his head, this time brushing his mouth back and forth across Elijah’s. Once.
That wasn’t half bad, either.
I could certainly do that ag…
“Orli.”
“Hmmm?...” Orlando’s thumb came up to rub against Elijah’s lower lip again. Elijah reached up and wrapped fingers around the hand holding his chin. Gently he tugged it down.
Orlando frowned and looked at him, trying to pull his hand away. “I thought…”
“My turn.” Elijah half-slid up Orlando’s body, cupped a hand behind his neck and dragged his mouth down. Sucked the fuller lower lip gently between his teeth, licked back and forth against the soft flesh, then slid inside, following the low gasp along the underside of his upper lip and between white, even teeth.
Laved the top of Orlando’s tongue.
Orlando staggered back against the bar, one hand dropping to the counter with a thud, holding himself upright as heat roared through his body, rushing down, heavy and scalding between his legs, between his lips, under the skin where Elijah’s fingers dug into the back of his neck. Elijah tilted his head, perfect angle and licked him again.
Orlando made a sound caught between a groan and a gasp.
Elijah pulled the dark head closer, curling his arm around the back of the smooth-skinned neck until his elbow dragged Orlando’s mouth down harder, more open, more sounds…
Orlando was stunned. Undone by the sudden press-lick-nibble of Elijah’s mouth against, in and around his. He didn’t understand how he’d made it through nineteen years without feeling something just. Like. This…
Elijah sighed and rocked against the waves of dizzy heat, sharp pulsing tingles of flame ignited on the fire silk inside of Orlando’s mouth and traveled down.
Kissing me, kissing me…damn, he taste’s good…
Elijah pulled slightly away. Orlando made a low, helpless sound, the finger in the belt loop bent as his hand pressed urgently against Elijah’s lower back, pushing heat closer to heat.
Elijah tasted the corners of Orlando’s lips, lightly pressing open kisses to each soft centimeter, chasing a hesitant taste back and forth across the open barrier. He reached for Orlando’s sweater, tugging upwards until he could slide his hand underneath. The warm thin cotton of Orlando’s t-shirt grazed his palm as he slid a hand up Orlando’s chest. He rested his palm just to the right of the defined chest muscle and moved his thumb. Searched, then felt the tiny nipple pebble hard instantly.
Orlando jerked against him, his other hand snapping down to grab at Elijah’s hip, pulling him up, slide dragging hard cotton against hard denim just once before letting Elijah slide back to his heels. Elijah grazed the nipple again, flicking the side of his thumb first back and forth, then round and round, before sliding hard over the tip again.
Orlando was mindlessly hard, lift-pushing back against the gradually steady rocking of Elijah’s hips, thrusting into the friction of denim and hip and hard-ons. The thought should have freaked him the fuck out, but every grind against Elijah’s heat, Elijah’s mouth…shoved him blindly towards…
The hand on his chest slid out from under his sweater. Orlando opened his mouth and protested with a strange, strangled sound he couldn’t believe and didn’t care had come from him. He opened his eyes when he felt the urgent tug of Elijah’s hand on his tucked-in t-shirt.
Elijah stared up at him, eyes half lowered. He watched Orlando. Orlando watched his hand slid under the edge of sweater and shirt. Up against bare skin, slowing as the fingers settled and the palm followed, grazing behind skin that was burning.
“Oh, god…” Orlando’s whisper broke apart. He trembled with heat, harder than he’d ever been - diamond grinding hard - his breath rabbiting across Elijah’s temple, sucking down hot air and the scent of Elijah’s skin.
Elijah moved. He slid to the side and pushed a thigh hard between Orlando’s legs. Orlando slid down and shifted instinctively, rocking his hips open to accommodate the press invasion of Elijah’s thigh. Hard. Against his erection.
“Oh. My fucking god…don’t…” The whisper shattered from between Orlando’s lips. The corners of his eyes stung, the heat of reaction overwhelming. Terrifying.
Elijah’s bare fingers caught up with the hard, aching point of a bronze nipple. He’s so close, so close I can taste it… A thumb rubbed gently back and forth. Orlando choked out a broken hiss, his fingers digging into firm flesh under cotton.
God, we’re in a bar in a bar in a bar…
Fingers pinched and flicked and pinched again, a bizarre triple-time stroke against the forceful rhythmic shove of Elijah’s leg sliding just there against him and suddenly he was there...
Orlando jerked his head down against Elijah’s throat, fingers digging hard into the narrow hips rocking against his. “Nononono…ohfuck…” Orlando growled along Elijah’s skin, shaking against him as he jerked and came, rocking hard pulses against Elijah’s thigh.
Elijah strangled down an elated chuckle and rode out the shudders, pushing harder, rolling the tight nipple between the tips of his fingers, thrilled to his core at Orlando’s sudden beauty and loss of control.
Orlando squeezed Elijah’s hips and the shudders stopped. His face was still buried in the crook of Elijah’s neck. He could feel the rigid length of Elijah’s hard-on still straddling his thigh. He breathed fractured half-sobs against Elijah’s skin.
Abruptly he straightened, one hand pushing Elijah’s hand away, out from under his sweater, the other pushing at his chest, shoving him away. He scrambled away awkwardly, spinning around to face the bar.
“God DAMN it.” Orlando’s head dropped between his shoulders, arms braced straight and trembling against the bar.
Elijah hovered behind him, hands still hanging in the air near his chest, stunned at being so abruptly let go. His hand still tingled from the smooth heat of Orlando’s chest, his nostrils still suck-dragging gulps of air, junkies for the scent of Orlando’s arousal. His release.
Elijah shivered and lowered his arms.
And waited.
There was probably nothing he could say to fix whatever…trauma Orlando was suffering about just having been dry-humped to orgasm. Standing up. In a bar. By a guy.
Oh, god. Please just…don’t walk away and pretend that didn’t happen.
Elijah wasn’t breathing when Orlando finally raised his head. Orlando brushed a hand across the back of his eyes and spun around. He reached out as he turned, snagging Elijah around the neck and tucking him firmly against his chest, the other hand grazing over a hip as he lowered his head.
Elijah’s mouth was still parted in shock as Orlando’s lips rocked hot and slick against his. Soft delving tongue between the parted lips, nudging closer and deeper until Elijah had to grab a fist full of sweater to stay upright.
Orlando broke the kiss, leaned his forehead against Elijah’s and licked his lips. “I…that was…I’m sorry I…but it was…” Orlando swallowed, lifting his head with a nervous smile and a delicate blush. “Sorry.”
Elijah gaped at him.
The furrow reappeared between Orlando’s eyebrows. “Lij? Are you?...I didn’t mean to…umm…” Orlando blushed, beet red to the tips of his ears.
Elijah shook his head, loosening his death grip on Orlando’s sweater, patting his chest absentmindedly, his eyes still wide. “Shut up. It was beautiful. You’re beautiful. I should go.”
Orlando’s frown deepened into worry. “But…I…don’t you wanna. You’re still…I mean, I’m not really sure what to, I mean I know, but I haven’t ever…well, except on myself, but…”
Elijah choked down a half-stunned, half-horny desperate chuckle and laid three fingertips against Orlando’s slightly trembling mouth. “Not…tonight. I think you’ve…I think that’s enough trauma for one night. For you.”
Orlando’s eyebrows shot up. “I’m not…” He drew a shuddering breath. “…traumatized. Shocked, maybe. Overwhelmed, definitely. I had no idea my…uh, that…” Orlando gestured at his own chest. “…was so, um…sensitive.” The last word came out husky and slow. He squeezed Elijah’s shoulders awkwardly.
Suddenly, it clicked.
Orlando Bloom, quarterback, team captain, teacher’s pet, cheerleader darling, hero to all and enemy to none was not going to beat the living shit out of him for molesting him in a dark bar. Not only was he not going to beat the shit out of him, he was standing there, talking about his newly discovered ‘sensitivity’, and looking with definite…no, earnest interest at the half-hard lump in the front of Elijah’s khakis.
The click set off a chain reaction.
Elijah’s smile was predatory as he moved both legs to the outsides of Orlando’s thighs and leaned forward, tugging gently on Orlando’s collar. Down. Orlando’s breath hitched and he dropped his head. Eagerly. Fell hot open-mouthed into the kiss.
Elijah shivered and nudged his head, tracing a lip line around the side of Orlando’s jaw. The dark head lowered and turned in encouragement, a feline nudge of affection.
“Why don’t you show me…” Elijah murmured into the sensitive curve of Orlando’s ear. He added a gentle bite to the soft lobe, just for good measure.
Orlando made a small, wordless sound. “Nggh…sha…show you what…exactly…”
Elijah continued his journey along the swirling contours of Orlando’s ear, reaching up to drag his fingers down the side of the long throat, over the collar of the sweater and faster down until, there, through the wool and cotton layer he found the other nipple. And rubbed. “Show me what you know how to do to yourself. But on me.”
Orlando grabbed the back of Elijah’s shirt, crushing the fabric between fingers as he struggled to stay upright at the thought of demonstrating his…technique…on Elijah. “Ohgod.”
“Where are you?”
Orlando arched his neck into a particularly delicious curl of Elijah’s lips. “Wha…what?”
“Where do you usually do it?” Elijah slowly reached up and wrapped his fingers loosely around Orlando’s wrist. Orlando unclenched his hand and let Elijah tug it down the front of his chest.
Orlando licked his lips, panting gentle between them. “Um…the shower.”
“Great fucking image. What first?” Elijah released Orlando’s hand, tentatively. Orlando left it pressed lightly against the flat curve of Elijah’s stomach. Elijah flicked open his own fly, silently dragging down the zipper. He gently pushed his boxers down just enough to bare the soft trail under his navel. He stroked a fingertip up the underside of Orlando’s wrist. “Show me, Orli. Do you start…all at once?”
Orlando hacked out a low moan, his fingers pressing into the warmth of Elijah’s stomach. He was breathing rapidly again, focused on the heat under his fingertips. He wondered if Elijah’s skin would feel even hotter. The thought had him scrunching the tail of Elijah’s shirt up until he could trail his fingertips against the bare hot skin. He felt the divot of Elijah’s navel and slid a fingertip around around inside.
Elijah jerked against him with a sharp intake of breath. Orlando regained some focus. His eyes unglazed and he looked down at his hand moving gently under the rucked up hem of Elijah’s shirt. He swirled a finger tip again and smiled when Elijah moaned and shifted restlessly against him.
The thought that he could make Mr.I’ll-just-play-with-your-nipple-and-make-you-come react with a moan was oddly thrilling. He decided that more moaning was definitely in order. “No. Usually I…” Orlando slid his hand down further, holding his breath. He felt the soft down of hair along the underside of Elijah’s stomach and slid his hand even further down, fingertips gliding under the elastic waistband of boxers, only mildly confused at the lack of button or zipper in his way. He froze at the first silk burning contact of hard cock and fingertip.
Elijah gasped and quit breathing, his head arching back, eyes opening to stare into Orlando’s.
Please, don’t stop…
Orlando felt a stab of something primitive strike in the core between his thighs. He swallowed and cleared his throat. “Usually I start with a…teasing…” He dragged fingers down the hard length in his hand. “…exploration.” He delved in the hot, damp pressed space between their hips and found the silkiest, wet-throbbing tip of Elijah’s cock. He curled fingers along the underside, gave a gentle, experimental squeeze, and grazed the tip with the flat of his thumb.
Elijah cursed and thrust awkwardly into the touch, hands clutching at Orlando’s waist. “Fuck, do that again…”
“Did…do you…like that?”
Elijah’s harsh laugh was cut short by another tentative curl slide press of long fingers. “Jesus, Orli…yes, I…like it.”
Orlando breathed out an encouraging word against Elijah’s temple and dragged his fingers again.
Elijah cupped his hand around the back of Orlando’s neck and pulled his mouth down. He kissed him slanted wet and half sliding against parted lips, then whispered against them. “But…harder.”
Orlando kissed him, hard. Snaked an arm around Elijah’s waist and half turned him, twisted his hand for a better grip and squeezed-slid long fingers and palm in a firm stroke. And another. And another. Awkward for the first few, until he figured out the counter rhythm of stroke, rub, tongue-thrust that had Elijah scrabbling against his sweater, low growls of pleasure, surely, winding around his tongue.
Orlando felt the trembling stillness of Elijah’s hips, his thrusts narrowing to tiny digs into Orlando’s fist. Orlando stilled his hand and squeezed, thumb rubbing in quick circles over the head. Elijah jerked his head back and yowled, came jerking and cursing against Orlando’s throat.
Elijah hung by the arm around Orlando’s neck and grabbed the front of Orlando’s sweater. “Jesus fucking Christ, warn a guy before you do that. I think you melted my brain.”
Orlando lifted his hand from between their bodies and…
Blushed.
“Damn, that was amazing. If I’d known your hands were amazing on things other than footballs, I’d have attacked you on the bus the other night. Here.” Elijah reached around Orlando’s waist for a towel and handed it to Orlando. “Made a mess there, didn’t I? Sorry about that. Probably freaking you the fuck out, right about now. Suppose I could have been polite and done it in my chinos, but…you…oh, right. My bad.”
Orlando blushed harder and took the towel, wiping his hand with a slight grimace.
Elijah grinned and tucked himself back in, zipping up and leaned back against the bar next to Orlando. “Here, let me have that.” Elijah reached for the towel. “Better not let Uncle Vig…”
“’Lij.”
“…see the…yeah?”
“Are you always this…chatty? After?”
Elijah paused in his absentminded straightening of Orlando’s sweater, he drew away, moving slightly back from Orlando against the bar. “Sorry. Sorry, I’ll just…”
“Lij, relax.” Orlando reached out and snagged Elijah by his neck, dragging him against his chest again. “I’m just teasing.”
Elijah rested his palms lightly on Orlando’s chest. “Oh.”
“And I’m only…slightly freaked out, ok?”
Elijah nodded, then a furrow appeared between his brow. “Does that mean you might…possibly…you know…do this again?”
Orlando’s lips twitched. “No way.”
Elijah’s heart lurched into his throat, the blood draining from his face as he went stiff against Orlando.
Orlando tightened his arm and leaned forward. “You can find someone else to help you clean up the bar.” He nuzzled the warm damp skin just under Elijah’s ear. “But I wouldn’t mind making out with you again.”
Orlando laughed when Elijah pinched him and called him several unflattering names.