afra_schatz: (Orlando smile)
[personal profile] afra_schatz
title: done talking
authors: [personal profile] noalinnea and [personal profile] afra_schatz
characters: orlando bloom/richard armitage
rating: NC-17, very much so :)
words: 8200
a/n: This is what Orlando and Richard are up to on 26/8/2017.

Richard looks at Orlando while he waits for him to respond. But he doesn't, just stares at Richard's mouth.

Richard shakes his head. 'You stopped listening minutes ago, didn't you?' he says with a sigh, but his tone betrays him, and he grins at Orlando.

Orlando chuckles.

'I'm sorry, you said 'bedroom' and my mind decided that this was more interesting than,' he halts, tilts his head, pretends he is trying to rewind the conversation in his head. 'Feelings?' he guesses humorously.

Richard just shakes his head but keeps grinning at him and stretches out his leg, slowly dragging his instep up the inside of Orlando's leg from his ankle to his knee. Orlando uses the backrest of the sofa for leverage and pushes himself into Richard's space. He licks his lips, intention clear, but doesn't kiss him, the distance two inches max.

'Are we done talking for now?'

Richard's eyes flicker from his lips to his eyes and back, but he doesn't move.

'You tell me,' he says in a low voice. 'You're the one still talking.'

Orlando leans in, the kiss open-mouthed but short, after just a couple of moments - just enough to get a taste for it - he pulls back enough to say,

'You're a bit of an argumentative dick, I like that.' Another kiss, more of the same, and his hand settles in Richard's neck, stays there even when he withdraws again, not even as far as before. 'You want to get fucked now or backtalk some more?'

'Depends,' Richard says, voice even lower, and trails his hand down Orlando's side, letting it come to rest on his hipbone where his thumb toys with the waistband of his jeans. 'How much does it turn you on when I talk back?'

Orlando responds with a low growl, and he tightens his grip on Richard's neck a bit more, just as he feels Richard's fingers digging into his hip, pulls him into the next kiss that's wet and messy, and Orlando has no intention of stopping that one any time soon. Neither does Richard, because he answers in kind and threads one hand into Orlando's hair so that he gets a proper grip and can hold him close. But the angle is a bit awkward, and he pulls back a little after a moment, and says:

'Get over here already.'

He tugs at Orlando's hip, beckoning him to straddle his thighs.

'Bitch, bitch, bitch,' Orlando mocks as he does just that, knees trapping Richard between them now. Richard pulls him back into the kiss by his hair, grip just that bit too tight - 'Fuck, I want you.' - that it goes straight to Orlando's dick.

Richard laughs against his lips, a little breathless already and starts tugging at his shirt.

'Off with this,' he says, and watches Orlando pull it over his head before he leans back in for a kiss. 'I can feel your cock through your jeans. That’s hot.'

Orlando grinds down against him in response, deepening the kiss as Richard grips his right shoulder, the one-armed embrace holding Orlando down. Unwilling to draw back yet again, Orlando keeps kissing him while pushing his hands under Richard's t-shirt, lifting it as far as it will go right now, fingers digging into muscle. But it's not enough, and Orlando slides his right hand down Richard's chest until he can close it over Richard's dick.

Richard hums in appreciation, the sound half lost between their lips, and pushes up and into his touch. One hand still wrapped around the back of Orlando's neck, the other around his hip, he drags Orlando with him so that he can stretch out on his back with Orlando on top of him and pushes his tongue back into Orlando's mouth while he does.

'Damnit, Richard,' Orlando curses a moment later, his annoyance over Richard's t-shirt for a second taking precedence.

Now more insistent, he takes his hand off Richard's dick for which he gets growled at, the sound vibrating in his mouth. Ignoring that, Orlando uses both his hands to push up Richard's shirt as far as it will go, all but forcing it off of him. And - fucking finally - Richard gets the not so subtle hint and raises his arms over his head to pull the shirt off. Orlando allows the kiss to be interrupted for just the shortest of necessary instants before his mouth descends on Richard's again, both his hands now digging into the muscles of Richard's upper arms that he’s stretched out over his head, holding him down on the couch.

Richard flexes his arms experimentally, not enough to put up a proper fight but to test the degree of Orlando's determination. When Orlando tightens his grip in response, Richard laughs into his mouth.

'That your way of telling me who's going to be on top?' he says against Orlando's lips, relaxing in his arms for a moment.

'No,' Orlando says and moves on to his jaw, his jugular when Richard tilts his head back to give him access.

'I told you that five minutes ago.' His fingers dig harder into Richard's arms as he levers himself up a bit to be able to look at Richard properly.

'It's me.'

Richard's response is - somewhat predictably - to both push his hips up against him and to laugh again. Orlando leans down again to kiss that smile. Richard simply captures his lips again, the kiss less fast- paced. Then he nudges Orlando's nose with his so that he pulls back a little.

'Here?' he asks quietly, smirking at Orlando. 'So that we can cross the couch off our list of inconvenient places to have sex at?' He lifts his head, so that his lips are almost touching Orlando's and pushes his hip up against him before he adds: 'I really don't feel like moving right now.'

'This,' Orlando replies, grinding down, 'is why it's clever to let me call the shots.'

He really already regrets giving up the advantage he has right now, but he pushes himself up and stands up. He smirks down at Richard who looks somewhat displeased at the sudden loss of body contact, and while he undoes the buttons of his fly with one hand, he counts of reasons with the other.

'No lube, limited space, awkward angles, you probably worried about the upholstery, there is a perfectly good bed just down the hall.'

With the same hand he lightly nudges Richard's knee, grin full in place as he turns towards the door.

'Chop, chop.'

Richard scowls and sighs ostentatiously.

'Right now I'm not sure this is to my advantage,' he growls, but without heat.

Orlando doesn't even turn back.

Richard shakes his head, amused, and pushes himself off the couch.

'Alright,' he calls in the direction of the bedroom. 'Get comfortable, I need to pee.'

'Get comfortable?' Orlando repeats laughingly as he shucks his jeans and underwear in the bedroom. 'How long is it gonna take you to pee, mate? Should I get myself a book and some snacks?'

Richard stops on his way to the bathroom and pokes his head inside the bedroom.

'I'll get back with a report once I've managed to pee with this,' he gestures towards the very visible bulge in his jeans and winks at Orlando before he turns around. 'There's a book on the nightstand I can recommend,' he continues, already in the hallway now, voice raised so that Orlando can hear him.

'I don't want a fucking report of your bladder status,' Orlando shouts back, flopping down on the bed that is still in a state from before. 'Seriously, if you don't hurry the fuck up I'm gonna do this on my own!'

'Don't you dare!' Richard calls back. And damn, the thought of Orlando stretched out on his bed, naked, doesn't really help with the task at hand. He turns on the faucet and lets cold water run over his wrists as a distraction. 'And it's your fault, so stop complaining.'

Orlando does. And because a. the book collection on the night stand wouldn't interest him even if he didn't have a hard-on, b. he has never been particularly patient and c. his own hand around his dick is better than nothing, he wraps his fingers around himself, just applying gentle pressure, not really stroking. He hums under his breath; yeah.

'Fuck you,' he replies only a little belatedly.

Richard catches his own grin in the mirror.

'Yeah, you'll have to wait for that until I'm back,' he mutters and turns off the water. It's done the trick, and he pees and flushes before he turns back to the sink to wash his hands.

He doesn't bother buttoning his trousers back up and feels himself harden again immediately at the sight that presents itself to him when he gets back to the bed room: Orlando is stretched out on his back, wearing nothing but a grin, one hand curled under his head, the other wrapped around his cock. Fuck.

Richard leans against the door frame, a grin tugging at his lips when he takes his own cock in hand, searching Orlando's eyes.

'Oh fuck you,' Orlando says for a second time, though the dark cadence of his voice clearly betrays the insult, and with the next slow twist of his wrist he lets his legs drop open, arches his brows.

Richard answers in kind and lets his eyes travel down Orlando's body towards his cock that's in plain sight now. His appreciation is visible in his expression, he makes sure of it, when he lets go of his own cock so that he can step out of his jeans and boxers, baring himself to Orlando's eyes.

Orlando's hand stops moving but remains wrapped around his dick as he narrows his eyes.

'Stop being a tease and get into the bed, Richard.'

Richard just grins at him and wraps his hand back around his cock, stroking once, twice down the shaft.

'Why don't you come get me?' he suggests, his voice so low that it barely carries.

Orlando snorts and shakes his head. He swings his legs out of bed and comes to stand right in front of Richard.

'Really? Are we really playing the porn version of "Chicken" right now?'

He bats Richard's hand away from his dick and replaces it with his own.

'Fine, you won. Happy?'

'Very,' Richard says, voice only shaking a little when Orlando starts stroking him like he means it. He wraps his hand around Orlando's neck and pulls him close and into a kiss that's more teeth than tongue.

It's exactly the way Orlando likes to be kissed, and Richard knows it, too. He responds in kind, his chest against Richard's, his hand trapped between them providing enough friction for his own dick for the moment.

'C'mon,' he murmurs, voice coaxing rather than ordering, takes the small step back so the hollows of his knees touch the frame of the bed.

Richard follows him, so that he doesn't have to break the kiss. He tightens the grip around Orlando's neck a little and wraps his other hand around his waist when he takes one more step, pushing Orlando down onto the bed.

The instant Richard comes to lie on top of him, Orlando hooks his legs over Richard's and readjusts his grip, his hand around both their dicks now, and yeah, that's good, that's great, and Orlando's mind has already fast-forwarded, has other - better - ideas than this. So his kiss is greedy, his motions are just that side of impatient, and it's so easy like this, he's got Richard's weight on top of him, Richard's hand in his hair, Richard's low moans in his ears and fuck, what were his plans again?

Orlando is so fucking good at this, it's unbelievable, he gets the pressure and speed exactly right, has from the second or third time they had sex, and Richard simply lets himself take pleasure in his touch for a moment, lets himself enjoy the feeling of Orlando's cock sliding along his with every stroke of Orlando's hand before he reaches between them and wraps his fingers around Orlando’s wrist, stilling his movement. He answers Orlando's resulting growl with a brief kiss before he moves to kneel between his legs and bends down to run his tongue up his cock, all the way from the base to the tip while his fingers curl around Orlando's hips and press him into the mattress.

'Fuck, Richard,' Orlando exhales and his eyes want to close as Richard repeats the motion. But he keeps them open, pushes himself half-up onto his elbow as his other hand touches Richard's face, fingertips curling behind his ear. Richard looks up at him, and Orlando swallows down a groan at the look on his face.

'C'mon,' he says again, again quietly. 'Get back here.'

Richard looks at him for a moment, just breathing against his skin, taking in Orlando's expression before he nods almost indiscernibly. He places a kiss against the side of Orlando's cock, then one onto his abdomen before he moves up, and stretches out on his side next to Orlando.

Still propped up on his elbow, Orlando leans over for another kiss, right hand on Richard's hip again.

'Hiya,' Orlando says with a smile, and then, 'How do you want this?'

Richard mirrors his smile. 'You seem to be the one who's got a plan,' he says and nudges Orlando's nose with his. 'You tell me.'

Orlando's brows arch up in amusement.

'Yeah. My plan is to fuck you. Didn't have time to flesh out the details. So, on your back, your side, your stomach?'

On my stomach, Richard's thinks, but then, he really does not want to stop kissing Orlando right now.

'Side,' he says, and leans back in, lightly nipping at Orlando's lip.

'All right,' Orlando replies against Richard's mouth, then pats Richard's thigh and pulls back. 'Roll over then. I kinda need you on your other side for this to work.'

'A little impatient, are we?' Richard asks, grinning, but complies and rolls over onto his left side, facing away from Orlando for only a moment until he turns his upper body back towards him, so they can keep kissing comfortably. He moans against Orlando's lips when he feels Orlando pressing against him and tilts his head a little bit further to give him better access while he pushes back against him.

And once more, best laid plans and all that - they are kissing again and Orlando gets distracted from his own impatience, from that desire to do it hard and fast and now as he strokes down Richard's side, from his chest to his stomach, and his right hand finds Richard's dick.

'Like this, hm?' he asks even though he already knows Richard will agree, but he still wants to hear it, likes it when Richard talks. 'All right?'

Richard chuckles. 'Sure, or I would've objected earlier.' He grins at Orlando between two kisses before his expression turns a bit more serious.

'Take it slow, though? I'm a bit sore already from before.'

Orlando rests his forehead briefly against Richard's upper arm, chuckling.

'Shit. Sorry, I should apologize instead of finding that so fucking hot, sorry.' He lifts his head again, still smirking, resumes stroking Richard's dick as he looks down at him. 'I can do slow, though. Or do you wanna switch up?'

Richard laughs quietly, the laugh fading over into a moan when Orlando adjusts his grip around his cock.

'Of course you and your destroyer cock find that hot,' he says, shaking his head, before he adds, his voice lower, more intimate:

'So do I, though. That was fucking perfect, earlier. And I'm good with slow, I'll tell you if it's too much.'

'All right,' Orlando responds in kind.

He lets go of Richard's dick, slides his right knee between Richard's legs, feels his balls heavy against his thigh as he stretches to reach the nightstand and the lube and condoms behind himself.

When he turns back, Richard pulls him back into the kiss with his right hand in his neck and kisses him the way Orlando fucked him earlier, it's the opposite of what Orlando just promised to be. He lets Richard's tongue invade his mouth, groans when Richard's hand slides up into his hair to keep him right where he is, the kiss deep and dirty and hard while Orlando preps him slowly, carefully.

Richard looks for distraction in the kiss and finds it, and Orlando is careful. He keeps withdrawing his fingers as soon as they meet resistance, the pace almost agonizingly slow, while he barely can suppress his own want, Richard can tell from the way he is kissed back. He can feel his own impatience growing with every twist of Orlando's fingers, wants him, needs him to get going, but when he tells him, Orlando shakes his head.

'Not yet.'

Orlando gets huffed at in response, laughs against Richard's lips and Richard all but bites him but relaxes a little again. And as much as Orlando wants him, wants him, wants him, Richard seems to be even further gone, and this is addictive, having him like this. Gives him something to focus on and isn't that so much better than just mindlessness.

They stay like this, longer than Richard obviously wants them to, longer than he needs them to - all quiet noises, 'Not yet,' Orlando repeats, 'And stop it, for fuck's sake' with another chuckle and a growl, and all small motions and touches - and when Orlando finally replaces his fingers with his dick, that is the only change; he likes the rest just the way it is.

Richard's breath catches when Orlando slides into him, there is a bit of a sting, but Orlando maintains the slow pace, and it fades when he's fully inside. His thrusts are shallow and feel weirdly intimate somehow. Maybe it's the pace that's such a striking contrast to the one he usually sets, they usually fall into, but Richard likes it, likes the feeling of Orlando this close, likes the intimacy, but wants a fast pace now, needs a fast pace, and pushes back against Orlando.

Orlando grips Richard's hip as he is buried deep, keeps Richard from shifting like that again. As he tries pushing back despite that, Orlando lightly bites his lower lip instead of continuing the by now lazy kiss.

'No. You wanted slow, now you're getting slow. Deal with it.'

Richard groans in frustration.

'Tease,' he growls against Orlando's lips, albeit rather half-heartedly, because Orlando's ridiculously tiny movements actually do feel good. Orlando's warmth is pleasant, the weight of his hand on his hip is, as is the way his body is stretched around Orlando’s cock, nothing of the initial discomfort left. And Orlando keeps kissing him, lips soft, pliant, the pace of the kiss matching the rhythm of his hips. So be it, Richard thinks, and simply closes his eyes, relaxes into Orlando's movements.

Orlando can be patient, if the outcome is worth it, and it so very much is. He keeps the pace slow, enjoys how his own pleasure and Richard's build continuously and yet almost impossible to notice. It's just good, then better, then something more than better; some release found in the kiss that is still all Richard's choice.

Richard blinks his eyes open with Orlando stops moving entirely, and even then only after a long moment. Orlando strokes up his stomach and chest.

'Wanna ride me now?'

Richard considers the offer for a moment, then shakes his head.

'No, I want you to turn me onto my stomach and fuck me properly.'

Orlando chuckles breathlessly; so much for his resolve and composure - Richard and that fucking voice of his.

He doesn't hesitate to comply, doesn't even need to pull out, Richard moves with him, is spread out under him the next moment and the angle is perfect. Orlando bends down, a lot of his weight resting on Richard now, and by the way Richard exhales shakily, it's just how he wants it. And he's so hot like this, Orlando doesn't even consider teasing, denying him what he asked for and starts fucking him properly.

Richard lets his head sink onto the mattress for a moment when his pleasure spikes with the force of Orlando's first thrusts, finally, finally- before he props himself up onto his forearms and arches his back so that his body offers more purchase, more resistance, so that Orlando's movements don't knock him right into the headboard. Orlando's breathing has sped up, but he's still quiet, still so very much in control, and Richard clenches around him and shifts one leg a little so that he can push back against him, trying to coax a sound out of him, because vocal Orlando? He could come just from listening to that.

Orlando bites back a groan, his next thrust harder, despite himself, unable to resist that fucking brilliant tightness, and Richard's muscles flex against his skin. He meets Orlando's next thrusts the same way, tightens just as Orlando pushes in, and Orlando grips Richard's shoulder for support and leverage both, growls, 'Give you an inch and you demand a whole fucking yard, hm?'

'Stop dicking around,' Richard grinds out between two particularly hard thrusts of Orlando, 'or I'll take you up on that offer to switch positions after all.'

Orlando grunts, a sound caught between a snort and a groan. He shifts again, so he can put more of his weight on Richard, making it almost impossible for him to move at all - not that he needs to.

'Yeah, not gonna happen.'

Half a moan escapes Richard's lips before his breath catches with the next thrust, and he closes his eyes and just feels, feels Orlando's skin slapping against him, his cock sliding into him and back out in short, hard stabs, in breath coming in quick little pants.

'Want to- hear you,' he manages to get out, while he gathers fistfuls of the sheets for purchase.

Orlando curses under his breath, means for it to sound light, but his voice is rough instead.

He pushes his arm under Richard, gripping his shoulder, so he can move him in rhythm with his thrusts.

He knows perfectly well what Richard wants - it's exactly this, this hard, fast pace - but he still asks,

'What do you wanna hear? Me telling how I'm gonna fuck you like this till you come? How I'm gonna fuck you through it? What, Richard?'

Thinking requires effort now, with Orlando's speed increasing, his fingers digging into his shoulder, his voice rough with arousal, and Richard feels himself tensing in response, trying to move with him, trying to spread his legs wider so that he can push in deeper, and he reaches behind his back and digs his fingers into Orlando's thigh, trying to pull him closer still, to keep him close. His answer doesn't make sense, but he doesn't care, he wants- 'This,' he rasps, clear his throat, repeats the word. 'This. You.'

And yes, Richard is reduced to single words, and fuck, Richard's fucking voice and how is Orlando supposed to not lose it just from that alone - but no, this is too good, too good to just race it right down that cliff, chasing that high - Orlando reaches under Richard, his flat palm between Richard's dick and the sheet now, closes his hand around him and allows himself one more hard thrust, pushing Richard into his fist, before he stops again.

'You have this,' he murmurs into Richard's ear, throat dry, 'You have me. C'mon, settle down again.'

Richard freezes for a moment before simply flopping down onto the bed, pulse racing, breathing laboured, head spinning, hyperaware of Orlando's fingers around his cock, his breath tickling his skin, his cock buried deep inside him.

'Fuck,' he growls. 'Fuck, Orlando. Move!'

Orlando does, finally does, and Richard just lets him, face pressed into the mattress, fingers twisted into the sheet, and focusses on Orlando's movements, on the way his body moves with Orlando's thrusts, on the way his right arm is still around Richard's shoulder, hand gripping tightly and pulling him in, while his left is on Richard's hip, pushing him down, keeping him in place - yes, Richard thinks, yes, yes, yes- and opens his mouth and lets that one syllable spill out: 'Yes-yes-yes-'

Orlando curses, can't help it, doesn't care, curses again - something filthy and probably nonsensical, he can't remember the moment the words leave his mouth, too affected by the reaction he gets from Richard in response, who stretches out his arm so that he can press his hand against the headboard to gain leverage and push back into Orlando's next thrust, hard, determined, not bothering to stifle the resulting moan.

Orlando pushes himself up, runs his right hand down Richard's back, over the curve of his ass, then both his hands grip Richard's hips and he pulls Richard towards himself, to bottom out properly.

It was good before, really good, but now the angle is perfect, and Richard knows he's much too loud, but can't keep it down, doesn't want to keep it down. Orlando pushes him down again, one hand on his back, and holds him in place while he fucks him with increasing speed, his breathing heavy. Richard scrambles for purchase on the bed while he slides his right hand under his body and curls his fingers around his cock, and although there's no space to move them, the pressure is good, almost enough to- almost - yes--

Orlando closes his left hand over Richard's on the sheets, close to Richard's face, fingers sliding between Richard's and he squeezes them tightly. Fuck patience, fuck gentle. This is so fucking, fucking perfect - the speed, the force, the angle- Orlando just wants this, this, this, wants to come something desperate.

Richard can tell that Orlando is not far from coming, not only from the way his thrusts become faster, harder, relentless, but also from the way he is tightening his grip on his hip, gripping it so tightly that his nails almost pierce Richard's skin. He can hear it, too, can hear it in the way his voice is cracking, in the way his breathing becomes heavier and heavier, in the little sounds he makes, sounds of pleasure, of need, somewhere stuck between moans and little growls, and Richard does not want this to be over, wants to keep listening to Orlando making those sounds, to Orlando unraveling, wants to keep feeling this sharp, bright, almost painful spark of pleasure every time Orlando shoves into him, with enough force now to push him towards the headboard.

But neither of them will be able to keep this up for much longer, the pace too frantic, the need to come too acute to control, and Richard pushes himself up on one elbow and his hips off the mattress just far enough to stroke himself without disturbing Orlando's angle, the feeling of Orlando fucking him not quite enough, but almost- almost--

There's too little space for fine-tuned movements, so he just lets Orlando's thrusts push him into his fist, fast, fast, faster, and that's--

''lando,' he pants, the first syllable lost, 'just- yes- '

And Orlando comes.

He's cursing as he pushes Richard down again - cursing because fuck, this feels brilliant, fuck, he's hurting already, fuck, he didn't want to come, but he is and his mind spins in circles as the rest of the world freezes, and Richard, Richard, Richard-

Orlando's rhythm falters when he comes, shoving into Richard's body once, twice, hard enough to knock his breath out of him, and fuck, the way he sounds- Richard reaches behind his back and grips his thigh, pressing him against his body, feels Orlando thrusting all the way through his orgasm, his breathing ragged. A sound tears from his lips that's closer to a sob than a moan, and fuck, he's close, so close, so damn close that he can't think of anything else, keep moving, he thinks while he pushes back against Orlando, keep moving keep moving-

Orlando curses some more, comes back to himself with the same violence that forced his orgasm out of him, eyes refocusing on the display of Richard's broad sweaty back underneath him, of his dick still inside him, and fuck, how has none of this not lost any of its power over him despite his orgasm? He wipes sweat from his brow, then leans down, his lips against Richard's neck soft as his hips picks up an only minutely slower pace again.

Yes, Richard thinks, yes yes yes, hips moving with Orlando's now, short, shallow stabs into his hand while Orlando keeps fucking him, his lips on his neck, murmuring something against his skin, that's so good, so fucking perfect ---

Orlando's focus his back now and there's no blur, no haze, nothing to distract him from seeing, hearing, feeling exactly how Richard is coming apart and coming. He stops panting, stops breathing, and his whole body seems to tense up, and Orlando knows it's now, and when Richard exhales in a shudder, finally there, Orlando keeps thrusting, intend on overloading Richard's mind completely.

It's perfect and too much at the same time, Orlando still moving inside of him, and Richard flops down onto the mattress and surrenders to the feeling, every single nerve end on fire, his hips still moving but without rhythm. He can hear himself, too, can hear his broken moans, but can't do anything to stop himself, just as he can't stop his muscles from convulsing in waves that only fade slowly, slowly, there's another one, and another one, and yet another one, and he trembles in Orlando's grip helplessly, so fucking good --

His blood is rushing in his ears, his head is swimming, and Orlando keeps moving, keeps fucking him, fucking him, fucking him, he doesn't stop, just slows down.

He lets go of Richard's hand, so he can rest some of his weight on his elbow on the mattress now, lets go of his hip in favor of stroking up his side until his hand covers Richard's shoulder. And still he doesn't stop, just keeps pushing into Richard, as slow and steady as they started out.

He rests his forehead on the back of his own hand briefly, savouring this as he listens to Richard's breathing returning to something resembling normal again, then pushes in deep one last time before he stills.

'All right?' he asks, lifting his head again to look down at Richard.

Richard's reply is a muffled hum and a nod that barely qualifies as one, his brain not back to working properly again, and frankly, the house could be on fire and he wouldn't care. His heart beat is still loud in his ears and his muscles haven't stop trembling, his throat dry.

Orlando has stilled inside of him now, and fuck, he's going to be so sore, but not yet, he doesn't want to think about that right now, wants to just lie there with Orlando plastered to his back, doesn't want to move, wants to feel him soften inside of him, wants more of those small, soothing touches, his hand stroking his side, while he returns to coherence.

Orlando shifts a bit to readjust his weight, and Richard hisses quietly - Orlando can relate, his shoulder is protesting already. He should probably care that he is pretty much lying on top of Richard now with almost his full weight, but he just can't be bothered. He's too fucking old for this, he thinks, and how fucking sad is that. He huffs quietly to himself - pull yourself together, for fuck's sake.

'What the fuck happened to "slow" just now?' he asks.

Richard feels his spirits return slowly and laughs quietly, turning his head to the side a little so that he can get a glimpse of Orlando. His skin vibrates with Orlando's chuckle, and he likes that, Orlando is heavy and it's beyond him why that's comforting to the degree it is.

'Don't know,' he says, his voice still hoarse. 'That just keeps happening somehow.'

Orlando strokes down Richard's side again, his touch gentle now as his hand curls over his hip.

'Yeah, neither of us has anything to do with it. Utter lack of responsibility for one's actions; definitely a school of thought I subscribe to.'

Now it's Richard's turn to snort and he looks over his shoulder at Orlando, so much 'yeah, right' sarcasm in his eyes that Orlando laughs before he attempts to move.

'Shit,' he complains, 'I think I broke my body.'

Richard laughs at that. 'Probably,' he says, 'and mine, while you were at it.'

He shifts a little into Orlando's touch, it's nice, and he hums contently. He reclines his head until it rests against Orlando's and asks: 'You okay?'

'Been worse,' Orlando replies with a smile that probably gives away that that is a massive understatement. He briefly presses his nose against the back of Richard's neck before he shifts, so that at least the upper half of his body isn't fully resting on Richard's back anymore.

'I really, really like having sex with you,' he says, pretty much stating the obvious.

Richard feels a smile tugging at his lips in response and nods: 'Same here.' He reaches behind his back and runs his fingers over Orlando's thigh.

'Move a little?' he asks quietly. 'So that I can turn around.'

'Course, sorry,' Orlando replies, repeating the last word on auto-pilot when he pulls out of Richard's body as he rolls onto his side.

Richard exhales, just that really, not a groan or a hiss, and doesn't immediately shift, and only judging from himself, Orlando can imagine how he must feel. Orlando rests the hand that isn't currently disposing of the condom on the back of Richard's thigh, lets his head fall back onto the pillow.

Well, that's it for going for a run on Sunday then, Richard thinks, he'll be able to feel that for days. But then, totally worth it. He sighs when he rolls onto his side so that he faces Orlando.

He looks as thoroughly spent as he feels, his hair sweaty, sticking to his forehead and Richard reaches out and brushes those wet strands away, smiling at the way Orlando's brow furrows slightly when he does. He pillows his head on his elbow and covers Orlando's hand that's still resting on his thigh with his own.

'Thanks,' he says quietly.

Orlando doesn't joke what for, for nearly breaking both of us? He doesn't say ditto, you're welcome, or cheers. He doesn't say anything, asks himself what it says about him that he finds politeness, good manners so damn attractive that a simple 'thank you' from Richard, always sincere, leaves him without response.

He flexes his fingers a little on Richard's thigh, inclines his head in a minimal nod, withdraws his hand and wets his lips. He's thirsty.

Richard's eyes instantly flicker to his lips, but he just watches Orlando for another moment, watches him think about something he won't share, and feels his smile widen. He, too, licks his lips, and props himself up on his elbow before he reaches out and cups Orlando's cheek in his hand, tilting his head towards himself a little when he leans over him and kisses him.

Orlando lets out a small huff, the touch of Richard's lips pulling him out of his own thoughts, but he cups the back of Richard's neck - not drawing him in, just a small touch, no further intentions - and lets himself be kissed, kisses back.

It's nice, that striking contrast to the kisses they have exchanged earlier, Orlando's lips are soft, pliant, undemanding probably is the right word, Richard thinks, and can't help smiling against his lips.

Orlando feels the smile and lightly nips at Richard's lower lip when Richard just continues kissing and smiling both.

'What?' he murmurs.

Richard pulls back a little, but only enough to talk, his lips still grazing Orlando's.

'Nothing, really,' he says quietly. 'The change of pace is nice.'

Orlando hums.

'I reckon -,' he starts automatically, but his mind fails to provide a continuation. Like his Yamaha refusing to start. He blinks, frowns (turning the key in the ignition) and the renewed failure isn't ground for panic but impatience. He knows the reasons of course (sweat, thirst, exhaustion), knows how to fix this (shower, water, sleep), but is instantly irritated at his body's lack of reliability, at his mind's inability to either function properly or shut down for real. Fuck this.

'Yeah,' he says, because Richard's soft kiss does feel nice; he doesn't disagree with that. 'I broke my brain, though.'

Richard, again, pulls only back enough for Orlando to make out words, reluctant to break the kiss.

'I'm sure you didn't,' he says with a smile. 'Just let me do this for a moment.' He lets his tongue trace Orlando's lips before slowly sliding it into Orlando's mouth and withdrawing it as soon as it touches the tip of his tongue, only to repeat the motion.

Orlando closes his eyes, settles back on the pillow and stops trying to kick his mind back into action for the moment, focusing instead on Richard's light kiss, the feeling of Richard's hands on his skin, sweat drying as his heart rate slows down.

Richard catches himself waiting for another remark, but there is none, Orlando has gone quiet underneath him, quieter maybe than he's ever been in his presence, and he's just answering the kiss now, not showing any intentions to up the intensity, his hand is still resting lightly on Richard's neck, neither pulling him in nor pushing him away, And fuck, that's nice, the quiet, the light touches, the slow pace, Richard thinks, and licks into Orlando's mouth again.

Orlando's ear itches and when he reaches up to scratch it distractedly, it's the small sound of his watch ticking steadily that does the trick; his brain remembers the concept of time and all that crap that comes with it. And instantly not only his ear itches but pretty much all of his skin and there is a good chance that he sweated all through the sheets onto the mattress which is a pretty disgusting thought.

Richard breaks the kiss and pulls back a little when Orlando automatically pulls a face, and Orlando runs his hand over his forehead - managing to just relocate most of the sweat, definitely not remove it, smiles and lets his brows hop up.

'Okay, watch me try and be sensitive and shit,' he says, his voice warm with humour, rough still from earlier groans, 'so I'll start off with, this was brilliant and I'm very willing to go into embarrassing - probably, for you, not for me - detail about how very good you are in bed later. But in other news, I need to stop kissing you because I feel disgusting and want another shower.'

Richard just laughs at that; it's what he has been waiting for during those past minutes, for Orlando to get restless, but this reaction is so much more charming than he has expected.

'You do that,' he says, and rolls onto his back, stretching like a giant cat. 'I'll join you in a moment, I'll just put on clean sheets.' He turns back onto his side and grins at Orlando: 'I can't wait to hear that detailed account, though.'

Orlando already has his feet on the floor, back turned to Richard, experimentally rolling his shoulders and finding them in something close to normal working order. That's something at least.

'Yeah, I'd offer to yell it to you from the bathroom,' he says, getting up. 'But I'm not sure you'd approve.' He lets his face express mock horror as he walks towards the door. 'What would the neighbours say?' He doesn't wait for Richard's reply, just taps the wooden frame of the door in a nonverbal bye for now before he disappears in the hallway.

Richard has followed him with his eyes and is smiling to himself while he's shaking his head. He flops onto his back and listens for the sounds Orlando makes at the other end of the flat, the bathroom door, the shower being turned on. He stretches again and then sits up and swings his legs over the edge of the bed. The wooden floorboards are pleasantly cool against the soles of his feet when he walks over to the cupboard and gets a fresh sheet. He quickly strips the bed of the damp one and pulls away the mattress cover as well when he finds it wet. When he tucks in the clean sheet on Orlando's side of the bed, he notices the crumpled tissue with the condom on the nightstand. Feeling a fresh smile tugging at his lips, he tosses the pillows and duvets back onto the bed and goes to dispose of the condom in the kitchen. He pours himself a glass of water that he empties in one go at the sink before he walks the bathroom. The water is still running and there's a crack in the door, but he knocks against the frame anyway, calling: 'Can I come in?'

Orlando turns off the water and wipes drops from his face.

'Sure,' he says, opening the glass door of the shower. 'I'm done.'

He steps out, dripping onto the tiles, as Richard comes in, smirks, and hands him a fresh towel from the neat stack next to the wash basin. He looks at Richard - in such a fucking state and Orlando still finds him hot, so clearly he is pretty inconsequential where sweat and bodies are concerned - then down at himself, wet but clean, and starts drying himself off.

Richard steps into the shower, and right before he turns the water on, he asks,

'You feeling like a proper human being again?'

'Yeah, mock me all you like,' Orlando replies easily, voice slightly raised. 'But falling asleep right after sex isn't the ultimate sign of satisfaction. It's the ultimate sign of being lazy, that's what.'

'That's one way to put it,' Richard says dryly and squeezes some shower gel into his hands. 'I was simply feeling sticky.'

Orlando briefly rubs the towel over his head to dry his hair a little.

'My point exactly,' he says, then wraps it around his waist before combing a hand through his hair in front of the slightly steamed-up mirror.

Richard just shakes his head and bites back a grin before he turns his face and chest into the spray, and fuck, that's nice, he can feel his sore muscles relax immediately.

Orlando leaves Richard to it, and after a brief de-tour to the kitchen to take care of the second item on his list - something to drink -, he returns to the bedroom, light flooding in from the hallway. Where he stands in the doorway for a second, asking himself whether Richard hides a chamber maid in one of his fancy closets - the place looks absolutely spotless. It's a little reassuring that Richard didn't also fold Orlando's clothes into a neat pile; they still lie on a heap (and partly inside out) on one of the chairs. Orlando exchanges the towel for his boxers before he steps up to the window that is slightly ajar, looking out onto the deserted street.

Richard just gives himself a quick but thorough rinse, he feels the exhaustion settling in now and would rather be curled up in bed when sleep comes, and not in the shower. He turns off the water and winces slightly when he steps out of the shower, he is sore. Reaching for a towel and starting to rub himself dry with one hand he rummages through the bathroom cabinet for the lidocaine cream he knows has to be somewhere. The tube is a bit dusty, but well, it's either going to work or not. He props up one foot on the toilet lid and applies some, the feeling not exactly pleasant, and washes his hand before he turns off the light and goes to find Orlando, continuing to towel himself off on the way to the bedroom.

Orlando turns around when the light changes and finds Richard blocking most of it as he stands next to the bed. As he comes closer, it's pretty damn obvious how gingerly he moves. He comes to stands next to Orlando near the window, ignoring the look Orlando is giving him.

'Next time,' Orlando says, voice low, 'when I say we're going slow, you should shut the fuck up and trust my fucking judgment.' He lightly nudges Richard's arm and shakes his head.

Richard reaches around him, towel still in one hand to close the window.

'I'll live,' he just says, and runs the towel over his hair one last time before he hangs it over the backrest of the chair in the corner.

He steps back to where Orlando is standing and reaches out to curl his hand around his hip.

'You staying the night?' he asks quietly.

Orlando looks at him but the light isn't good enough for him to really read Richard's expression, his tone of voice too low to get much from that either. For a second, he hesitates, but Richard doesn't withdraw his hand and just looks at him.

'Yeah, all right.'

Richard nods, and lets his thumb rub small circles over Orlando's hipbone for a moment. Then he smiles and gestures towards the bed with his head, briefly tightening his grip on Orlando before letting go.

'Let's get into bed, my feet are getting cold.'

Orlando just nods and follows him and lies down with him. Richard pulls the duvet up to his hip and turns onto his side to face Orlando. Orlando is looking up at the ceiling, body still, save for his slow shallow breathing.

'You're quiet,' Richard observes after a moment.

Even to that Orlando doesn't respond for quite a while.

'I don't like losing control,' he finally says, still looking at the ceiling. 'And before you say anything, yeah, I know you asked for it, and yeah, I know you're more than capable of deciding what you want and how much of it. That doesn't change that I don't like losing control, and I did.'

Richard feels his brow furrow.

'I'm sorry,' he then says. 'Sorry it feels that way.' He regards Orlando, takes in his look of complete exhaustion and the little frown that's clinging to his lips, the odd tension that he's brought to bed with him.

'For me, it was pretty much perfect.'

'Okay,' Orlando replies, sounding absent. Then he draws in a deep breath, and his tone of voice is back to mild annoyance when he adds, 'Fuck, I'm tired, and I can't seem to think straight anymore.'

Richard waits for him to elaborate, his eyes fixed on Orlando's face. If this wasn't Orlando right there next to him, he'd probably reach out on another level, too, and touch him, his hand, his arm, but Orlando's body language doesn't call for it, even though he seems a bit calmer, a bit less on edge.

Eventually Orlando turns his head on the pillow, features evened out.

'Sorry,' he says, somewhat vaguely, quirks his mouth up in a half smile. 'But hey, on the upside, I don't snore, eh?'

Richard raises one eyebrow, trying to make sense of Orlando's reply, but can't.

'You lost me,' he finally says. 'What does any of that have to do with you snoring? Or not snoring, that is?'

Orlando rubs a hand over his face.

'Sorry,' he repeats.' Bit of a non sequitur. It was supposed to be a joke. I get broody sometimes when I'm knackered, but at least I don't snore.'

Richard scratches his chest. 'Snore away, I'm going to be out in a moment anyway. Let's just turn off the lights? Wait, let me -'

He pushes himself up onto his elbow and leans over Orlando to get to the light switch.

When he settles back down, his hand comes to rest in the crook of Orlando's arm.

'Do you have anywhere to be tomorrow morning?' he asks, barely stifling a yawn. 'Or can we have breakfast together?'

'I got something in the afternoon, but my morning is open,' Orlando replies, voice already heavy with sleep. 'You cooking or do you wanna go out?'

'I can cook something,' Richard says, and yawns now. 'Pancakes?'

Orlando closes his eyes, exhales.

'If you cook, you decide. I'm good with anything. As long as it's not seafood.'

Richards chuckles quietly. 'No. No sushi for breakfast.' He brushes his fingers down Orlando's arm before withdrawing his hand and settling down more comfortably on his side of the bed.

'I really had a good time tonight, Orlando,' he says after a moment.

Orlando hums again, systems rapidly crashing.

'Appreciate it,' he murmurs. 'And you.'

Richard feels himself smile into the darkness. He shifts his hand a little, so that his fingers come to rest against Orlando's arm, his skin warm against them.

on 2017-08-30 08:55 am (UTC)
gattodoro: (grin)
Posted by [personal profile] gattodoro
Hot damn. What a fine piece of writing, my pulse is racing as hard as hard as Richard's and my brain is as broken as Orlando's. In fact I may just spontaneously combust any second now.

I held off reading this until I had time to do it justice, and, to quote Orlando, 'Fuck' but wasn't that the right call. Richard being a pushy sub and Orlando finally losing control is about the most erotic thing I've read in months if not years.

Sorry if this is an incoherant comment but you've made me completely discombobulated. Great work!

on 2017-09-05 12:02 am (UTC)
artemisallen: (Default)
Posted by [personal profile] artemisallen
This is an awesome piece of writing.
I cannot supply a more coherent appreciation because I am blown away by the depth and the breadth of it and in truth by every other conceivable dimension.
It is so real and so vital - there I tried - and so fucking hot.


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