When In Rome

Disclaimer: Fiction. Totally, utterly made-up. 100% untrue. Product may contain traces of nuts.
Feedback/Reviews: Please.. :) It's very much appreciated.
Also posted on CTB and OSV-Slash Yahoo Groups.

"Orlando?" Sean called.

From the kitchen came more muffled swearing, followed by the quick scuff of trainers on wood. Orlando stood in the doorway, cheeks flushed, sweat breaking out across his brow. "Yeah?" he asked.

"Are you *sure* you don't want some help in there?"

"I'm handling it. Really. You want another beer?" Orlando nodded to the almost empty bottle in Sean's hand.

"Best not. Got any softies?"

"Probably some sprite. Don't get up, I'll bring it." Orlando grinned and turned on his heel, but stopped as Sean spoke again.

"Any idea when the others are getting here?"

Turned away from Sean, Orlando bit his lip, trying hard not to laugh. "Um.. Nope. Maybe they thought I just meant come for the game?"

"Hm."

"Back in a sec."

Orlando shuffled back off to the kitchen, leaving Sean alone with a few suspicious thoughts forming. Surely if Orlando had mentioned dinner, the rest of them would have been here by now? It was free food. They *never* passed up on free food. The hobbits, at the very least, should have come. What the hell was the Elf playing at?

Sean was just about to get up and investigate when something pressed against the back of his head.

"Your sprite, sir," Orlando said, a smirk in his voice, as he leaned over Sean to put the can on the table. "Wanna glass with that?"

How did Orlando expect him to answer when he could barely breathe? The weight of Orlando's chest still pressed to his hair, he just shook his head, cleared his throat and said, "No, that's fine."

"Alright," Orli whispered, pulling away. His fingers brushed, briefly, over Sean's jaw. An accidental touch. Had to be.

'Shit,' thought Sean. 'Think of something else, think of bloody Margaret Thatcher. Anything.' He'd known this was a mistake, shouldn't have agreed to come. Orlando was going to have him climbing the walls before too long. 'Please, just let the others arrive soon.'

Sean looked out of the window, saw nothing but darkness. Not even distant headlights. Great. He could hear Orlando humming to himself in the kitchen, and thought about just going in there anyway. It beat sitting here, alone with his thoughts. Maybe he could find an excuse to stand in f of of an open refrigerator for a while, that might work.

Leaving the unopened can where it was, he shoved himself off the couch and wandered through to the kitchen. Orlando didn't seem to notice him, too busy stirring something. Smelt good, at least.

Sean leant against the doorframe, one arm folded across his chest, watching Orlando add ingredients to whatever that was. Webasibasically just watching Orlando. Which really wasn't helping the whole hard-as-a-bloody-rock issue. He adjusted his sweater some more and coughed, which at last seemed to get Orli's attention.

"Hey! You're not supposed to be in here yet!"

"Why not? I was getting lonely in there." Sean jerked a thumb towards the lounge.

"Well.. God, Sean, it's not going to be *that* much longer. What's the big hurry?" Orlando held his arms out, a showy attempt to hide what he was cooking. Too late, though. Sean had seen the pack of dried spaghetti.

"I could ask you what the big secret is. What is it, like a generations-old recipe that nobody else can know?"

"Stuff off. It's just spaghetti. You like spaghetti, right?"

'Particularly when it's disappearing between those beautiful lips of yours,' Sean thought. "Yeah. So..er.." Why did he feel so awkward? "Can I stay then?"

"Sure, now you've ruined the surprise."

Sean d nod not to think about what *that* could mean. "Are you sulking?"

Orlando turned back to the saucepans, shrugged. "Why would I be sulking?"

"No idea. I'm still not sure what I did wrong." Sean looked out of the kitchen window, at the darkness beyond it. "Do you really think the others are coming later for the game?"

"They'll turn up. I guess it's just you and me for eats, though. That's okay, isn't it?" Orlando asked.

"Of course it is," Sean replied. Though, really. *Argh* He wasn't sure how he was going to survive dinner on his own with Orli. And spaghetti, of all things. Maybe Orlando was trying to kill him. But how could he know? 'Yeah,' Sean told himself, 'because you weren't at all obvious, were you?'

"Nearly ready. Hope you're hungry, Sean."

"Yeah." Sean cleared his throat and eased away from the doorframe. "Need me to do anything?"

"You keep asking me that. Do Ik tok totally helpless or something?" Orlando shot a grin over his shoulder at Sean, then went back to serving out what looked to Sean like two *very* generous portions of spaghetti. Finally he turned, plates in hand, and gestured towards the kitchen table. "Take a pew, mate."

Sean sat, and couldn't help noticing that there were only two places set, one across from the other. How hadn't he seen that before? He decided not to mention it. Maybe they'd been set once Orlando realised dinner would be ready before the hobbits were.

Orlando set one plate down in front of Sean, one at his own place. He retrieved his half-finished bottle of beer and sat opposite Sean. Picking up a fork, he glanced up to see Sean looking at his dinner with something like confusion on his face.

"Tuck in, mate. It's not gonna bite you," Orlando told him, brows furrowing.

"Ha-bloody-ha." Sean gave in, picking up his fork and spoon. Digging the fork in, he twisted the loose strands of spaghetti, tines screeching as he turned them against the spoon. The sound made his teeth hurt and his toes curl.

"Maybe Vig and Billy are too busy shagging to come o-"

Sean almost choked on his mouthful. He coughed, feeling his face turn red, and reached for Orlando's beer.

"You okay?" Orlando asked, not even attempting to hide his smirk. He watched Sean gulp down a couple of mouthfuls of the beer, gaze fixed to a dribble of froth that hadn't made it past Sean's lips and was now slithering down his chin.

"Can we talk about something else?" Sean wiped the back of his hand across his mouth, looked Orlando dead in the eye.

"Sure." Orlando raised his eyes to the ceiling, apparently searching for inspiration. "Let's talk about you. What are you going to do when all this is over?"

"Go home. I've got some things lined up. I'm notng tng to be as mad busy as you will, though. It'll be nice just to sit still, at least for a short while." Sean took another mouthful of spaghetti, head down. Mostly he was trying not to watch Orlando eat.

"I guess. You know, you'll be missed. Vig'll miss you. I'll miss you."

Sean swallowed. "You'll all be too busy to miss me, Orlando."

"Hm," Orlando said. He took a single strand of spaghetti into his mouth and lightly nudged Sean's foot beneath the table to make him look up. It worked, he noted, just before he closed his eyes, sucking the strand up slowly between puckered lips. "Mm."

"Oh, God," Sean whispered, transfixed. Orlando found another long strand, repeated the performance. His eyes opened, dark gaze locked firmly on Sean, who just couldn't look away. "Oh, God," he repeated. Sod subtlety. To hell with hiding. "Orlando. Just.. don't stop doing that."

"Doing what, Sean?" Orlando asked innocently. The look in his eyes, though, was something else entirely. More spaghetti disappeared between soft, slightly stained, lips.

"That," Sean growled.

"Why?"

Sean pushed his plate aside, tried to swallow past a tightening throat. "Because it's driving me fucking mad," he said, his voice nothing more than a low, hoarse rumble.

"It's driving you mad.. and you don't want me to stop. That makes sense, Sean." Orlando chuckled, lowering his fork to gather up more spaghetti. He certainly wasn't prepared for what happened next.

Sean shoved his seat back, all but diving over the table between them. He grabbed a fistful of Orlando's shirt and pulled him up until their eyes were on a level. "You're a bastard, Orlando Bloom. I hope you know that."

Unsure what was happening, Orlando dropped his fork, wildly clutching at Sean's wrists. "Hey, come on, man! This isn't how it goes! Fucking let-" His eyes grew wide as his protests were swallowed, lapped from his mouth by a hungry, searching tongue. 'Holy Shit.' He felt hneesnees buckle, but didn't fall. Sean had far too strong a grip on his collar. Then again, Sean was sucking on Orlando's tongue with such voracity that the kiss alone could have kept him on his feet. Orlando wondered when he'd forgotten how to breathe, and since when was he so passive? Time to fix that.

Sean felt Orlando's hands leave his wrists, a whisper of a touch to the back of his neck before fingers locked behind his head, buried in thick blond hair. He let go of Orlando's tongue, swept his own across an even row of teeth and sighed into the open mouth he'd ravaged. The taste of garlic really didn't matter, Sean knew he would taste the same to Orlando. But there was something else there, Sean couldn't pin down what it was. More investigation definitely required. He ran his tongue the length of Orlando's, felt those slender fingers curl, press into his scalp a little harder. Beer. Bananas. Interesting. Now what was Orlando doing? Lapping at Sean's tongue like it was another strand of spaghetti?

Moaning, Sean lifted one knee up onto the table, trying to crawl across, crawl into Orlando's mouth and refuse to come out. He didn't even let go at the wet smash of his plate toppling from the table onto the floor, just murmured "Fhhm" into Orlando's mouth. His grip loosened on Orlando's shirt, one hand moving down, tightening convulsively around the material again when Orlando's tongue flicked over a tiny bump in his gum. Right behind his front teeth, stroking over and over the sensitive nub. Sean whimpered, yielded, felt the muscles in his arm go slack with pleasure. Orlando was back in control, and Sean couldn't care less.

Driven back across the table by Orlando's kiss, Sean leaned hisght ght back on his seat. He heard a splutting sort of sound and Orlando was suddenly laughing, lips still attached to Sean's. "Wh.." Sean tried to say, but Orlando's tongue was in his mouth, making coherent speech something other people did. It lit fires, made his throat hurt and his eyes water, left him aching when Orlando broke the kiss. They both looked down. What had been Orlando's dinner was now mostly sticking to one denim-clad knee, while the rest was smeared across the tablecloth. Little remained in the dish. Orlando raised his eyes to Sean, one eyebrow lifted to match the sly curve of his lips.

"Oops," he said, thumb and forefinger toying with a few strands of hair near Sean's nape. "We made a mess."

"We can clean it up. Later." Sean could feel Orlando's breath, short bursts of warm air coursing over his jaw.

"What now?" Orlando asked.

"What do you mean, what now?"

Orlando studied Sean for a moment, lifted his thumb to brush over damp blond lashes. "You're crying," he said quietly, stunned. "Why?"

"Because I want to make love to you. With you."

"That makes you sad?"

"No, Orlando. It makes me afraid. It makes me burn. It makes me want to die sometimes." Sean watched Orlando staring at him. He didn't apologise for what he had said.

"Don't," Orlando said.

"What?"

"Don't. I don't want to be the reason you want to die. Listen." Orlando moved his lips against Sean's, not really wanting a response, but unsurprised when he got one. He squeezed his palms on Sean's scalp, pulled him away from what would turn into another lengthy kiss. "Listen," he sagaingain.

"What?"

"Come to bed with me."

Sean dropped Orlando's shirt completely, pressed his thumb along the fine arc of a cheekbone. "Yes?"

"Yes." Orlando closed his eyes and parted his lips to the welcome intrusion of a warm, rough finger. He licked the edge of the nail, down to a slightly ragged cuticle, made a soft sound of appreciation when the finger bent, curled over his teeth and pulled.

"Now?"

Orlando rolled his eyes, having to nod with Sean's finger still in his mouth. Sean smiled, tiny creases appearing at the outer corners of each eye. "Alright, that was a stupid question." The hooked finger pulled again, bringing Orlando's inviting, open mouth to Sean's. He left it curled there, stroked the side of Orlando's tongue as they kissed again. Less frantic. More exploratory. The table gave a sudden groan beneath Orlando's weight. He remembered it wasn't that strong and grunted, rucking up the cloth in his haste to get off.

Sean opened his arms as Orlando's feet hit the floor, caught him and held him steady. "Hey," Sean said.

"At last." Orlando bent down, wrapped in the strong circle of Sean's embrace, and wiped spaghetti off his knee. "Yuk."

"Gone cold?"

"Yeah. Still hungry?" Orlando grinned, offering his hand to Sean.

"No, thanks."

Orlando looked down at the mess on his palm, wiped it off on his jeans. He popped the buttons on the fly open and wriggled the denim off his hips. Sean held his breath, stood back to let Orlando step on the frayed ends of each leg and slide the jeans off.

"'S Better. Saves time later," Orlando told him, pulling Sean close again. "Where'd we get to?"

"You were.. uhh.." Sean slumped into Orlando's arms as the young man kissed him fiercely, tongue rough against the roof of his mouth. He wasn't sure if he liked being this powerless or not, but at that moment he didn't care either.

"Mm," Orlando said, stepping back. "You taste good. Come on." His fingers wrapping around Sean's hand, he gave a tug and pulled him towards the door.

Sean followed him across the hallway, then another door was opened, closed. Sean looked up. He'd never been in this room before. Orlando's bedroom. His palms were sing,ing, he realised. He wondered if Orlando was nervous. Did the boy ever get nervous?

"Wait here a minute," Orlando told him, pecking a kiss to his cheek before he darted across the room to open another door. The bathroom, Sean guessed. He sat down on the edge of Orlando's bed and looked around properly. It was tidy, tidier than Orlando kept his space in their makeup trailer. There were a few family photos pinned to the wall, but apart from those it seemed pretty bare.

"I haven't got any.. you know.." Orlando stood in the doorway, vaguely waving a bottle of something. "It's peppermint. Is that okay?"

Sean felt the heat spread across his cheeks. He cleared his throat again. "I suppose. Um."

"I'm jumping ahead of myself, aren't I? Well, anyway. It's there." Orlando put the bottle down on the small block cabinet beside his bed. He crawled onto the covers behind Sean, and it was like a switch flicked over. "You're so fucking sexy, Sean," Orlando purred, close to his ear. He pushed his hands over Sean's shoulders, gathering lamb-soft wool between his fingers. Sean lifted his arms, letting Orlando pull the sweater up and off him. Warm fingertips slid back down along one of his raised arms, tickled the fine golden hairs. Orlando dropped the sweater, sighed at the broad expanse of skin before him. Strong, defined shoulders, thick but gentle arms. "So beautiful," he murmured, sitting back on his haunches to admire.

"Me?" Sean asked, turning his head to look back at Orlando. "I'm not, I'm.. You're-"

"Yes, you," Orlando insisted.

"The others aren't coming, are they? Were they ever?"

Orlando smiled, nuzzled into Sean's neck and said softly. "No, they weren't. Are you mad at me?"

"Mad? Well.. maybe just a little bit."

Orlando drew the bottom of Sean's earlobe into his mouth, licked the fleshy curve.

Sean relaxed, leaning into Orlando as the younger man's arms came around him. Fingers sought and found Sean's nipples, gave each a careful rub. "So beautiful," Orlando sighed again.

Sean couldn't reply, he felt too much like a kid whose Christmases had all come at once. He'd wanted Orlando for what felt like a very long time. Too long, and now here he was. Wrapped in Orlando, kissed by Orlando, being told he was beautiful by Orlando. He closed his eyes and let his head drop into the small crook between Orlando's jaw and shoulder. This felt good, right, all those other things. It felt.. home. His spine gave a little jerk as Orlando squeezed one of his nipples. His throat tightened around a gasp when the hurt was stroked away.

"Ssh, ssh. Relax, angel. My angel."

Sean had never been called angel before. It was odd to hear it coming from someone like Orlando. He sat, quiet, content just to feel those talented fingers work their way over his skin, edge down to the waistband of his jeans. The denim was already straining over the weight of his erection. He wanted to feel Orlando's hand wrapped around him. Soon. This first. These erratic, scattered kisses to his throat, the corner of his mouth, his closed eyes. The sweet, loving words pouring over him like starlight. Sean couldn't remember the last time he'd been loved like this.

Shifting restlessly, Orlando pulled Sean back, further onto the bed. "Lie down," he said, curling around Sean's body to push one hand against his chest.

Sean obeyed, his head hitting the plump, cool pillows. Thick lashes lowered as his gaze did, to watch what Orlando was doing. The dark streak of hair along the centre of Orlando's scalp was all Sean could see as the younger man moved down the bed to settle by his knees.

"Orlando?"

Finally he could see deep brown eyes, wide and hazy with love and lust. "Yes, angel?"

"Kiss me?"

"I'm going to." That smile again, fingers that were far too quick sometimes flipped the button on Sean's jeans and tugged the zipper down with a faint rasp. Sean felt Orlando's hands next to his hips, then the rough chafe of denim and cotton being pulled from him. Orlando twisted to push the gathered folds from Sean's ankles, till they were clean off his body.

"So very beautiful," Orlando said, reverently and almost to himself. Sean whimpered, watching Orlando take off his shirt. He wanted to be up there, be the one causing those shivers as heated skin was exposed inch by inch to the air around them. But he could only lift his hips in need and watch Orlando's mouth lower again. Warm breath stirred through the darker curls at the base of his cock, and he gritted his teeth. The moan filtered out anyway as Orlando's chin nudged the already swollen head.

Orlando moved his head back, enough for his tongue to reach where the tip of his nose had been. He lapped at wiry curls, matting them down as he edged closer to Sean's thick shaft. With a low purr rumbling at the back of his throat, he opened his mouth around the stiffened flesh and slid it wetly along the length. Sean's toes curled, tiny bolts of fire shot to the ends of his fingers as they ploughed into the sheets. Sean struggled to lift his head, to look down and watch. Finally Orlando's tongue stopped the teasing strokes, his head turned and that beautiful mouth opened wider, came up and over the head of his cock. Sean hissed, the slight scrape of a tooth against sensitive flesh too much. Too damned much. Not enough. "Orlando." The name was a moan. Orlando's fingers were pushing to get beneath, burrowed under Sean's thighs and grabbed at his backside. Dark eyes lifted to look at him. Sean's hips bucked suddenly, and those eyes became wider, darker still. But Orlando didn't gag, he only pulled back a bit, continued to lick, to suck, to tease.

He had Sean clawing, tearing into the sheets before he came. One stroke of his index finger between Sean's buttocks, one flick of the tongue, one lazy purr and one more look up into unfocused green eyes was all it took and Sean was *there.* Melting away, flying through vast spectrums of colour fir fire, slipping out of this world and into another. "Oh, God.. Oh.." Sean panted, trying to remember where he was, with a skilled tongue catching and drinking his very essence.

Orlando watched, waited, slid along Sean's body when the desperate movement slowed. "Mmm," he said quietly. "You even look like an angel when you come."

"I don't.. feel like one. An angel," Sean said, accepting the warm kiss Orlando gave him. A new taste, alien to him. Of course. He'd never tasted himself before. From Orlando's mouth, it was strangely pleasant. "I could stay like this.." Sean decided.

"You're not going to, though. You're going to make love to me. With me," Orlando told him, reaching down to rid himself of confining boxer shorts. "Remember?"

Sean groaned as Orlando wrapped one hand around his cock and started stroking him back to hardness.

"And you're going to come inside me," Orlando whispered. "Aren't you?"

"Will you look like an l?" l?" Sean asked on a sigh, wondering at the hint of doubt he'd caught in Orlando's words.

"Me?" Orlando's cheeks coloured deeper than the flush already in them, and he let go of Sean. "I never do."

Sean knew it was pointless to argue, so he just said, "Let me change that."

Orlando turned onto his side at Sean's request before rolling onto his back as Sean moved. He started to hum, a quiet tune Sean thought he should recognize. He couldn't place it, so he just listened, lowered his head and kissed Orlando's shoulder. Kissed the crook of his elbow, his knuckles, a fingertip. Sucked soundlessly on the dark circle of a nipple. The tune was lost, the humming broken between short, hitching breaths. Sean didn't look up, didn't want to look up. He reached past Orlando's head for the bottle on the nightstand. It was a pale green colour, the label proclaiming its contents as soothing peppermint foot lotion. Foot lotion? Well, soothing had to be good. He simply held onto it for a moment, Orlando's taut body fluttering beneath his kisses. The flat stomach quivered, short cries of "Don't stop" and "Now.. please.." slipping from parted lips, the lower one chewed on, bitten into, bleeding.

Sean flipped the cap open and squeezed a blob of the lotion onto his fingers, rubbed them together. An overpowering smell of peppermint, crisp and stinging his nostrils, made his eyes water for the second time. "Please," came the cry again, narrow hips lifting as Sean knelt between raised, bent knees. "Make me an angel.."

"You already are, Orlando," Sean told him, edging closer, pushing thighs further apart. Slick fingers dragged, tickling almost, down the length of Orlando's cock, delved down to stroke through dark, wiry hair, over softer, wrinkled skin. Deeper still, to trace the crease between Orlando's buttocks. "You're mine," Sean said, his voice barely above a whisper, "my angel, and I'm yours." With just one fingertip, he circled the tight ring of flesh, gradually feeling the clenched muscles relax. Enough to ease one finger, a joint at a time, into Orlando's body. Almost to the knuckle, he stopped, finally looked up. Tears stained a silent betrayal of pain in twin streaks down Orlando's cheeks. His lip bled from splits at two different points. "Hey, come on. It's okay. You want this, Orlando." Whispered words kissed to trembling eyes.

"I do." Sean felt the movement around his finger as Orlando squirmed. "I do, I want to get it right." The harsh rasp of a lungful of air being sucked in was, for a moment, the only sound in the room as Sean pressed the pad of a second finger in to join the first. He opened his mouth over Orlando's, felt the younger man's tongue dive out, catch his own, desperately wrapping around. The taste of blood kept Sean's movements measured, deliberate. The second finger was slowly buried. The two digits lifted, probing and seeking out that most sensitive bundle of nerves. Orlando gave a choked gulp, lurching and almost swallowing Sean's tongue whole as fingertip and fingertip brushed over his prostate. Sean caught erratic breaths, whimpers of "Jesus.. more.. please.. Oh, please.." in his mouth, drew back only to add a third finger. Stretching while trying not to tear, stroking while trying not to hurt, Sean opened his eyes to the simple clarity of Orlando. Writhing and moaning and surrounding three of his fingers with an incredible slippery heat. A salty peppermint smell enveloped the both of them as Sean drew his fingers out. He grabbed for the bottle again, watched Orlando still twisting his hands into sweat-damp cotton, riding the little aftershocks of pleasure.

"More," he whispered again, jaw slack as he lifted his head, enough to see Sean's hand, covered in white lo, wr, wrapped around his own cock, slicking the steely flesh. "Sean.. now.."

"I know.."

The bottle was dropped, forgotten, sweet mint fading into the background. Bodies and mouths drove at each other, collided, shattered into fragments of coherency. Orlando was a wet grip around the length of Sean's cock, taking all in and leaving nothing to the air. Thighs and hips kissed the same as lips did, mashed together tight and hard and wanting. This was nothing like the time-honoured 'dance' of romance novels, it wasn't the hot, hard fuck of porn. It was just the two of them, craving each other, craving release, thrusting, accepting, touching, giving in to sensation. Their ragged gasps made it real. The rhythmic slap of skin against skin made it real. The tang of salty tears on Sean's tongue, the spice of garlic on Orlando's, made it real.

If the friction of Sean's lightly furred stomach on Orlando's erection wasn't enough, the slide of fingers to lift hips and subtly alter the angle of Sean's thrusts was. Three hard strikes on his prostate sent what was left of Orlando's mind reeling towards the stars, liquid ecstasy splashing wet and warm across both their stomachs. Sticky in downy hair, pooling thickly in Orlando's navel. He was sure his cries must have reached the ears of angels. Orlando's wild bucking was the end of Sean, too, who came on a low moan that might have been Orlando's name. Stiff, his eyes still wide open - a definite effort on his part - Sean's jaw clenched, teeth locked as the rocking slowed, subsided.

"God.." Orlando murmured, shivers coursing through every vein, every muscle. After a while, they too subsided into satisfied squirms.

Sean's fingers finally relaxed, releasing Orlando's hips. An even row of small half-moon imprints had appeared, Sean noticed as he dragged himself up, pulled out with an odd wet sound. He reached to grab the sheets, pull a corner up to wipe them both. Orlando's stomach flattened beneath his hand, pulled in on a surprised breath. It fascinated Sean, who sat back simply to watch Orlando slowly recover.

"Do you love me?" Orlando asked. He didn't sound like a lost little boy, no hint of insecurity. He just wanted to know. Sean finished wiping the semen from his own belly and dropped the sheet back over the edge of the bed. He lay down by his lover's side, stroked his fingers over one stubbled side of Orlando's head and nodded.

"Yes. Yes, I do," Sean answered truthfully.

"I thought so," Orlando said, his voice thick with a held-back yawn. "Stay with me?"

"Always."

Orlando curled into Sean, long limbs covering him possessively. "No more tears."

"No, no more tears."

Orlando didn't bother holding back the yawn this time. He snuggled under the arm Sean lifted and closed his eyes with a smile. "Just spaghetti."

Sean laughed, quietly, intimately. "Mm. Just spaghetti."

THE END.