Love Story

Pairing: OB/SB mostly

Rating: R

Summary: This is not your average love story…

Disclaimer: This did not happen. This is a figment of my imagination.

Notes: Bunny hit me. And so I write. My first RPS. Whoopee.

Beta Readers: I owe huge thanks to my two wonderful beta readers, Jennandanica and Haleth. You are both so incredible! Without you guys, I don’t think I could have done this… seriously. Look at how this story turned out! Fantastic! *hugs*

Feedback: Please! It'll make me very happy. E-mail is at nessa_tulcakelume@hotmail.com

Love Story Part 1 out of 2
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This is not your average Love Story. I wish it was, but I know that it isn’t, because an average Love Story glorifies love – tells of love that is requited and love that is lost. An average Love Story is remembered, no matter how bad the outcome of the relationship.

Love Story. I wish I could tell you the same thing many have boasted about – about the wonders of looking into your lover’s eyes and the joy you feel when you are in that special person’s arms. But I can’t tell you something that has no element of truth in it. Instead, I will tell you a story of how things that should have come to be did not come to be. And I will tell you of how something that felt so right suddenly becomes so wrong.

This is my story. I will not ask you to believe me. But I will tell you anyway because I’ve been told that confiding in someone would ease the pain. And pain is the only thing I’ve been feeling since he started pretending that what we had with one another never existed… since he has forgotten me.

I will tell you my story now, in hope that you will understand why I am embittered. Perhaps then, in some ways, my story will be remembered, preserved in my memory and maybe yours. All I can do now is hope that you will understand why I hide behind a façade… a mask of perpetual smiles and false laughter…

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It began sometime last year. We were at a pub, feeling pretty much drained after an entire week of gruelling shoots. On that particular day, we’d been working for several hours straight without so much as a decent break and now that we were given some time off, we decided to catch up with each other. Just the two of us.

Sean and I had never had much in common. He was older and jaded about the ways of the world while I wadreadreamer… an idealist who believed that the world would be a better place if there were more people in love.

Sean begged to differ. And then he told me something that changed the course of our lives for the entire year.

Sean began to talk about his wife after the third pint of beer was drained down to the final drop. He was drunk. He ‘drank to forget’, that’s what he had said. But I didn’t think it worked very well because he seemed to remember all the details of his failed marriages more clearly than before.

It was the first time he confided in me about his marriage.

“Two fucking marriages down the drain. And now Abby’s upset because I don’t get to spend more time with her and the kids,” he slurred, burying his head in his hands. My heart ached for him. But there was nothing I could do but listen. Tried to extend my sympathy just by being there, running my hand up and down his back.

Sean told me everything that night. Of the nights he’d spent on the couch after he had an argument with his wife when he had gone to visit. Of the nights he just lay upon the couch, hard and needy, because he didn’t have the heart to ask for something she was reluctant to give.

And I sat next to him still. Listening. Trying to comprehend why he was telling me this. You have to understand. We were never close. Our personalities were as different as the sun and the stars. And that was how I liked to see Sean. As a Star. Something so beautiful to look at, sparkling brightly against the darkness of the night sky… but also alone. Distant.

I put my head his shoulder for the first time that night. Kissed him on the cheek tenderly. I told him I was sorry. I told him all the things that I was supposed to say. But I did not tell him the things that I wanted to say. Did not tell him the things that I needed to say.

How can you tell someone he has come to mean something to you? How do you tell someone that just by sitting next to him, you feel that you wanted to be the best person that you can possibly be… just for him?

It was too romantic a notion. I know that now. But at the time, it was what I felt. I felt that all I had been searching for in my whole life was found when I kissed Sean that night. It felt right. I wanted it to be right so badly.

I ruffled his hair and pressed my cheek against his stubble roughened one. He was trembling, face buried into the palms of his hands. I pulled his s aws away from his face, saw those moist, green eyes and kissed his fingers. And when he looked at me, I knew that was how love was supposed to feel…That love was to be able to look into those eyes, and understand that you exist just for him. Because of him.

He was too drunk to stand on his own. I helped him to his feet and into his car. Somehow, we found our way to my apartment, because Sean could not seem to find his house keys. Besides, I had thought that it might not be a good idea to leave him alone when he was so drunk and depressed. But now I realized that I was lying to myself. I wanted him in my room. Period. I wanted to be the one who takes care of him. Take care of him when his own wife did not.

When we entered my room, it was dark. But I made no move to turn on the lights. Instead, in the darkness, I undressed him. I felt the strength beneath his warm flesh. Felt the goosebumps that popped up from his skin as I trailed my fingers down his belly before I t to to unbuckle his jeans.

He was naked underneath his trousers. I saw his cock. Admired the slender length but didn’t do anything. Instead I pushed him onto the bed and left him there to make him some coffee. By the time I returned with a steaming mug in my hand, he was fast asleep.

He looked like an angel. On his face, I saw vulnerability etched into the lines that had not been there a few weeks ago. He was frowning. Even in his sleep, it seemed as if he could not escape from reality. And I wanted to heal this broken man. Somehow, I wanted to be the one to smooth away that frown from his face.

I stripped off my clothes and got under the covers with him. Felt him curl up next to me, nuzzling my neck. Felt my cock responding to his drunken reaction to my body’s warmth. And I shivered.

I did not mean it to happen that night. But it did. And up till now, I have wondered if all the misunderstandings and the hurt could have been prevented if I had just left him alone.

I did a bad thing.

I kissed him. Pushed my tongue into his mouth. Tasted him. Traced his teeth with the tip of my tongue. Rubbed against him. Wanting more. Needing more. And Sean responded.

I swear. I didn’t take advantage of him that night. No matter what people said. No matter what anyone said. This is the truth. He wanted me that night. I know that much was true. He wanted to have me. And so I gave myself to him.

We had sex, yes. But to me, it was more than that. We made love. He was tender and gentle. And I can still feel him now. Deep inside me. Thrusting inside my body. His slick cock sliding in and out, stroking my prostate; teeth biting delicately and lips sucking hard on any part of my flesh he could reach. I don’t care what you think of me. But that night, I knew that I fell in love with this man. With his tenderness and passions.

He needed me. No one had ever needed me before. Maybe that’s why I gave all of myself to him. My heart, my soul and my body. I became his. I am still his; remained so even though he has long since rejected me for another.

He took me in every sense of the word. Kd med me, caressed me and perhaps came to love me too. Just for that moment in time. I don’t think he knew what he was doing but I knew that deep in his secret heart, he wanted this. Just as much as I wanted it.

It was everything I had envisioned it would be and more. He came hard, moaning something incomprehensible. Murmuring soft, tender words never meant for my ears. And he went back to sleep, holding onto me as if he could not bear to let me go. As for me, I was so satiated, so happy, I fell asleep right in his arms. And that too felt so right.

I must have dozed for a long time before I sensed that Sean was awake. His breathing woke me up; rapid and sharp, as if he was agitated. I cracked open an eye and saw Sean looking at me. Staring at me in disbelief.

I bolted upright. Tried to explain. Tried to hold onto him before he shattered right before my eyes. I don’t think I have seen anyone looking as frightened as he did at that moment.

Green eyes were wide with horror, darting from my naked body to his and back again. I remember trying to gather him in my arms. But he pushed me away. That was the first time he did that. I remember it clearly now. The first time he rejected me.

“It’s okay, Sean. It’s okay,” I murmured over and over again, struggling to wrap the covers around my body. He shook his head violently, as if trying to shake off some horrible nightmare.

“Fuck. Orli. Fuck,” he choked out. He stumbled out of bed and grabbed his clothes I’d folded neatly and placed upon a chair. I watched him put his clothes on, his movements jerky and breathing heavily. I said nothing to him then, merely watched him and bit my lips to stop from saying anything else.

Within seconds he was fully dressed. He stood there for a moment and for a heartbeat, our eyes met. I started to reach for him again. Stopped when I saw him recoil, bumping into the chair behind him.

“Please Sean,” I said, voice breaking. On the brink of tears.

Sean closed his eyes. And I held my breath.

He turned around and walked out, slamming the door behind him.

He never looked back.

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Weeks passed and still we hardly ever looked each other in the eye. It was so hard to bear. Although we had never been close, at least we had still been comfortable being in each other’s presence; talking and cracking jokes about anything and everything under the sky.

But after that night, everything changed. The distance between us seemed to be too wide. Too wide for me to breach. And then something began to die inside me.

You must have noticed it because you kept asking me what was wrong. But I said nothing. Kept quiet while you watched me die a little more everyday. I think you must have guessed at the cause of my misery. Noticed that I seemed to stopped breathing whenever Sean chanced to look at me…and flinched when his eyes met mine. And I thought then that my quest for romance and love was over. Just like that. Love Story ended because of that one night.

But Sean came to me again, a month later, stood outside my room, knuckles raised to knock upon the door – hesitated – as if he did not have the strength to do something as simple as that. I knew because I watched him through the hole in the door, somehow having known that he would come that night and going to the door the moment I heard faint sounds outside. Watched him struggle to make up his mind.

I opened the door before he could knock – before he could change his mind. Watched him shuffle around uncomfortably, eyes flickering towards my unsmiling mouth.

“May I come in? We need to talk,” he said, his voice harsh with strain, eyes staring unflinchingly into mine.

I opened the door wider, allowing him to enter. He stood in the middle of the room, his face uncertain, suddenly unsure of why he had come in the first place. But I knew. I knew why he’d come.

I walked towards him and pressed my lips against his. Did not kiss. Just brushed my lips against his unyielding ones. He stiffened for a split second before responding with a fire I had never seen in him before.

He was a desperate man that night. Kissing me hard and long, cupping my butt and grinding his hips against mine. And oh God, he was hard. Needing me and wanting me… as he needed and wanted me that first time he took me.

He murmured my name and I whispered his and that night he made love to me for the second time.

We lay upon my bed, warmed by the afterglow of our torrid love-making and bathed in perspiration. I curlcurled up next to him, lazily running my hand up and down his hard belly.

“No regrets?” I asked nervously. Sean turned to me and smiled a smile that sent another jolt right down to my cock.

“None,” he answered as he kissed me on the nose.

“You won’t leave again, will you?” I asked.

I know how I must have looked like in that instant. Eyes wide with apprehension, lips trembling with emotions that I could not hold back. Sean kissed me again.

“I was scared, Orli. I saw the bruises on your body. I thought you would hate me for what I did that night,” he murmured, running his fingers through my matted hair.

“So you remembered,” I said, smiling.

Sean looked offended. “Of course I remembered! I was drunk, not dead for Christ’s sakes!”

We laughed. Fooled around, still naked and sweaty upon the bed. Got even sweatier in the next few minutes. And just like that, the first few chapters of my love story were written, its pages I kept safe deep in my heart.

We were happy together for some time, even though we never allowed ourselves more than a quick, cheeky grope and a fleeting peck upon the lips in public. But we were happy. We stayed happy even during the time when Sean had to fly over to England to get a divorce from his wife.

Sure, he was stressed out. But on the night he came back to New Zealand, we made love like we’d never made love before – with a strange sense of desperation and eagerness. It was the first time all over again. Because that night, as we lay upon his bed in his room, he told me something I had always wanted to hear.

“I love you Orli,” he said, voice cracking a little as he gazed into my eyes. I had to close them. Sean. You know how he is. A man of few words. But what little he says just seems to reach down into your heart and embraces you, until you can literally feel him in every fibre of your being. And so for the first time, I cried.

It was so beautiful, so right and so easy for us. To love and be loved, to just lose ourselves in this moment of surrealism that had somehow found its way into reality. We cried together. Laughed at each other’s faces. Sean said I looked like a prune with my face scrunched up when I cried. I said even without crying, he looked like a shirt that hadn’t been ironed after a wash.

But our relationship and our love remained a secret. I think you were the only one who suspected anything. I could tell by the knowing look you gave us. The smile you had upon your face when Sean looked for an extra long period of time into my eyes as he told me how beautiful I looked as Legolas. And I think you were happy that we had found happiness in each other arms. Sean; happy because he had found the love and intimacy he’d lacked in all his marriages. And me; happy because I managed to make the man I love happy.

So much happiness. You would have thought it would have lasted for a long time. I really thought we would last. But a week after the divorce and a week after he told me that he loved me, he became distant. Worried almost. More cold and reserved in public and even more so in private.

He seemed only to tolerate my caresses when we were in public – not responding as he had a mere few days ago. My touches made him stiffen and my kisses were not returned. I was confused, of course, but not worried. Being the naive boy that I was, I thought if I was patient and waited, he would return to his senses and become the loving and caring man that I had fallen in love with.

I only became aware that something was really wrong when he didn’t want to make love to me in his room anymore, preferring to sleep in mine. He would shag me senseless, until my throat was raw from him and moaning. When it was all over, he would leave me to go back to his room when he thought I had fallen asleep returning to my bed once again before I wake up.

I was lost. And now I wonder if I had been more aware of him starting to turn away from me, could I have managed to prevent him from leaving altogether? So many questions and so few answers.

He pulled away over the course of two weeks and, gradually, we stopped making love altogether. He always made his excuses.

“I’m too tired, Orli.”

“Orli, it had been a rough day.”

“Orlando, stop that.”

“Orlando, no!”

Orli Orli Orlando Orlando. Where had the intimacy gone to? Was I merely ‘Orlando’, everyone’s favourite elf… but no longer his Orli? I went mad, I suppose. Lost it there for a while. Might still be losing it, really. And once again, you were the only one to notice. Noticed that I laughed too loudly and too often for apparently no reason at all. Noticed me throwing myself off helicopters and bridges… craving for that adrenalin rush I’d had when I was with Sean.

Love Story. Have I not told you in the very beginning that this was not your average one? Here is why.

One night, we were in my room. Fucking. After a couple of weeks of abstinence. No more loving making. I deep-throated him as usual and he rammed his dick into my arse like always. Oh yes. Sean. Always on top and always in control. Not that I was complaining, but I had wondered. We came as we normally did, orgasms ripping through our bodies until we could not breathe, could not think, just slumped into each others arms, boneless and weak.

As I drifted off, Sean did something that he had not done in a long time. He kissed me on my forehead and whispered those forgotten words.

“I love you Orli. Always. Remember that,” he choked out. I wondered briefly about those words that were laced with something akin to tears. But I was too tired. Too fucked to care. I fell asleep.

When I woke up, it was 2 in the morning. Sean was once more missing from my bed. I decided to look for him. Wanted to talk. Wanted to ask why he kept on leaving me whenever I fell asleep. Perhaps I wanted to have a little lovers’ spat. Inject some romance. You know how it goes. Quarrel a little and then kiss and make up. Maybe more.

And Jesus… God… I walked towards his room which was just down the corridor. God… I remember it so clearly now. The door was ajar… Jesus… I heard sounds, voices coming from Sean’s room. God please, no… pushed opened the fucking door and there I saw him.

I saw them.

Karl and Sean. Sean and Karl. Sweet Jesus, holy Mary mother of God… Sean on his knees and Karl’s fingers threading through that head of blond hair, his back turned towards me.

And just like that, my Love Story ended.

Because Sean was on his knees, sucking Koff.off.

To be continued…