Tired of Sex

Tired of Sex He He shuffled into the bathroom, gangly limbs stumbling over discarded clothing and shoes that didn't look to be his own. Yawning widely, he then entered the small room and flicked on the lights.

Bracing himself against the sink, he then took a long, careful look in the mirror.

His normally clear olive skin was shallow. There were dark shadows under his eyes. His lips seemed to be pretty dry and close to flaking. His cheekbones looked like they were nearly jutting out of his skin.

The eyes were the ones that he couldn't get over. Instead of being expressive, and sparkling and full of joy, they were empty. Flat. Lifeless. A window into a murky sea and nothing more.

He couldn't believe that it was him. He looked so worn. So defeated. So tired.

//I'm tired, so tired
I'm tired of having sex
I'm spread so thin
I don't know who I am//

Was that really him? That haunted person looking back at him? He shook his head. No. He looked again. The image still hadn't changed. It was him.

He sighed then, and rubbed his face. He'd better start taking care of himself if he wanted to stay alive. This was no way to live. It was no life doing what he was doing.

He really wanted to stop. Go back to being himself. Sleep in his own bed alone, in his worn sheets that smelled like him rather than semen and sex. That didn't feel cold even when the other person left in the middle of the night. Sheets that didn't make him feel like he was some cheap whore picked up for a ride and then discarded once the itch had been relieved.


Sheets that were cotton and not silk. Sheets that absorbed the tears that would fall after it was all over and done and his partner had gone to sleep. Silk didn't. And that was why he needed to go home.

//Monday night I'm makin'
Jen Tuesday night I'm makin' Lyn
Wednesday night I'm makin' Catherine
Oh, why can't I be makin' Love come true?//

He couldn't recall when the musical beds had started. All he knew that it had been fun in some thrilling way. At first, the excitement of being in a different bed, with a different person every
night had felt good. Empowering. Interesting.

But it quickly turned old, he realized. He had gotten used to sharing a bed with someone. It had become such an addiction that he began to search out his partners just for that purpose. But the peacefulness and closeness had all but dissipated after the novelty of having him in their bed wore off.
He became the group's whore. Whoever wasn't hooked up would take him into their bed in a hideous parody of a game, they all had their set days with him.

Monday-Billy
Tuesday-Karl
Wednesday-Dom
Thursday-Viggo
Friday-Lij
Saturday-Dave
Sunday-Whatever tart decided to pick him up and screw him because of the thrill of getting it on with a cast member of the LOTR.

That was his only day of respite. The only day when someone was sleeping with him and not looking at his face with contempt mingled with desire. He knew that they saw him as nothing more than a cheap little toy to amuse themselves with.

They didn't see him as he really was. Lonely. Starved for affection. Needing the comforting touch of someone lying next to them in the night to banish the demons crawling around his head. The cliches were coming true. He hated them. Hated himself and wished that someone would treat him like a person worthy of giving and receiving love.

But the he he slept with other people, the more that wish seemed nothing more than a dream. A fairy-tale of sorts. Like a blue rose. No one would give him a blue rose. Because no one could see that he needed it badly.

He washed his face and brushed his teeth before shuffling back to the bedroom and grabbing his clothes. He put on the rumpled shirt and the baggy jeans. He couldn't find his socks for a bit, but after some quiet searching in Dave's flat, he came up with them. He grabbed his shoes and left without a backward glance. They would probably do this again next week, so he didn't bother with the sentimental crap.

Once outside, he fumbled around for his shades. New Zealand mornings were terribly bright and his eyes weren't really accustomed to such light. Natural or not.

He didn't know where to go. He had a day off filming and he was at a loss as to what to do. Nothing to read. No-one to see. He could drink himself silly before noon and no one would give a shit as long as he showed up on the set and in their beds.

But the loud growl his stomach gave in protest made him rethink the idea. Looking around, he was relieved to see a small café and deli across the street. Perfect. He hadn't eaten in what? A day? He wasn't sure.

He entered the place, go himself a chicken salad sandwich, a moccachino with loads of chocolate whipping, paid for it and sat down in a corner away from the main door, but still close enough to watch people go by on their way to work.

He was so caught up in people-watching that he didn't notice when Sean came in and sat down across from him.

"Orli! Hey, Orli!" He jerked himself out of his musings to smile briefly at his fellow Brit.

"Hello. What brings you here?" He asked as he began to pick at his sandwich in order to avoid looking directly into those dark green eyes that seemed to know way too much.

"The same thing that brought you here. I can't get a decent breakfast anywhere, so I thought I'd try this place out." Sean replied, carefully watching the thin young man as he half-heartedly ate.

Orli nodded as he ate and Sean took the chance to study him. Orli looked like shite. There was no nice way to put it. He was dressed in rumpled clothes, his hair was greasy, his face was terribly hollow and his body looked like it was made out of sticks, his wrists painfully bony and sticking out of his sleeves as if he had outgrown the shirt.

The worst was his face. His cheekbones looked ready to pop out of his skin. His face was fairly pale and almost ashen in colour. But the worst were the eyes. Eyes that held nothing. No hope, no hate. No love.


Nothing. And that made Sean's heart ache for him. Made him reach out. Made him want to shield Orli against everything in the world that was hurting him. Made him do what he did next.

"What are you doing today?" He asked Orli as he picked up his black coffee and took a sip.

"Nothing. I got a day off and I was just going to sit at home. Vegetate."

Orli replied as he looked at Sean, really looked at him for the first time since he had sat down.

Sean was looking at him like..he was concerned for his well being. Like he wanted to make him smile. Orli was touched. And pathetically grateful that he was being looked s ifs if he was a human being and not something like a trinket. The feeling was..very pleasant.

"I've got a day off as well and I have some shopping to do for my girls. And I was wondering if you'd want to come with me and we can later check out the sights. You're looking pale, Orli. You need to get some sun on that skinny little arse of yours."

Orli was shocked. He knew that Sean palled around, but never really reached out to anyone else.

He had been warm and polite to everyone on the set. In fact, if he remembered correctly, he was the only person that still gave him a genuine smile every time they saw each other. But that was all. He preferred to keep to himself, reading poetry and occasionally brooding deeply over his personal life. As far as he knew, this was the first time that he had actually received an invitation to go anywhere with the man. And it wasn't an invitation to get himself screwed silly either.

"Sure. It's not like the telly won't be there when I get back" He replied in a lousy attempt to make a joke. But Sean smiled at it anyways. That was good, right?

"Allright then. Finish your food and we'll go." Sean told him. He knew he sounded like a parent, but Orli's thinness was worrying. The kid was spare enough already. If he lost any weight, he'd probably disappear.

Orli smiled at the fatherly concern. Even though it was a bit silly, He was touched by it.

"Okay."

~*~*~*~*~
After they had finished their food, they began hitting the shopping circuit. Of course, it involved going into a toy store, which Orli relished. Especially when they got into a water fight in the middle of the store, courtesy of the super soaker display.

"You little twerp!" Sean yelled when he had gotten soaked for what seemed like the seventh time. Orli had grinned and held his hands up in mock victory.

"You're too old to keep up with me, old man!" He had bragged in his old cocky voice before Sean had gotten him right in the face.

"Old man, eh?' Sean had asked after Orli had stopped spluttering. He got an evil glare for that remark, but he just laughed it off. It was good to see Orli acting like himself again, rather than like the broken man that he had been earlier.

After they had purchased the guns, and gotten somewhat cleaned up, Sean dragged Orli into a bookstore to see if there were any books he could pick up for his daughters.

As they browsed the different section, with Orli trying to persuade him to buy a book of dirty limericks, Sean found the book that he had been hoping, but not really expecting to find.
OrliOrli! Look at this!" He called to the young man who was now engrossed in a collection of Calvin and Hobbes.

"Hmm?" He asked as he ambled over to Sean. "What is it?"

Sean pulled the book of the shelf and practically shoved it into Orli's face.

"The Blue Rose?" Orli asked as he accepted the book. He looked at the cover and saw that it was a drawing of a Chinese Princess accepting a white rose from a bedraggled and scruffy boy.

"Yes. I thought I wasn't ever going to find this book." Sean told him as he looked at the cover.

"Have you read the story?" He asked, looking at Orli's face.

"Yes." Orli whispered as he fought to keep the tears from his voice. He always loved that story. The princess, in her wisdom, had asked for a symbol that only a suitor that truly loved her would understand. A symbol that he, in his love starved life, would never get.

"A blue rose. Something I won't ever get. A whore like me won't ever find a blue rose. Won't deserve a blue rose. "

He whispered before shoving the book back at a shocked Sean and running out of the store

//I'm beat, beet red
ashamed of what I said
I'm sorry, here I go
I know I'm a sinner
But I can't say no //

He ran back to his flat and wept. He couldn't believe that he had made such an ass of himself in front of Sean. Sean the only person that looked at him like he was a person. Sean..He fell asleep with the image of Sean's bright green eyes and wicked smile in his mind.

He got up several hours later. Looking at the clock, he decided to get up and take a bath, make himself look presentable to pick up which ever tart wanted a piece of him tonight.

Sighing heavily, he got up and walked to the bathroom and cleaned himself up as best as he could with his lack of energy. After that task was done, he put the dirty clothes in the hamper and grabbed clean ones from the closet, not really caring what he put on as long as he was dressed.

//Thursday night I'm makin' Denise
Friday night I'm makin' Sharise
Saturday night I'm makin' Louise
Oh, why can't I be makin' Love come true//

Finally, he was ready. Sighing heavily, he gathered his wallet and his keys, put on his shoes and headed to the door. He swung it open in time come face to face with a surprised Sean, who was standing there with his hand held up.

"Sean?" Orli asked, confused as to what the hell the older man would be doing at his flat.

"Orli." Sean replied, not sure as to what to say now that he was facing Orli. Even though he had planned exactly what he was going to say and do as he drove to Orli's building, now that he was there, he had suddenly become tongue tied.

"Uh. What brings you here?" Orli asked as he moved to let Sean into his flat. Sean entered and Orli closed the door. Leading him to the living room, Orli noticed that Sean was hiding something behind his back and was taking extra-care not to let him see what it was that he held.

Once they had sat down on the couch, Sean had finally managed to gather enough of his wits to tell Orli his reason for showing up so unexpectedly.

"Uh. I just wanted to give you this." Sean said as he then pulled out a rose from behind his back and pressed it into Orli's hands.

"I remembered what you said in the bookstore. About not ever getting a blue rose. Or deserving one."

Orli stared at the blue rose that Sean had given him. He didn't know what to say about that.

He had never guessed that Sean would have taken his pitiful rambling to heart like he had done. That he would care enough to go out of his way to buy him a blue rose and give it to him when he could have been doing something more important.

He looked up at Sean and saw that there was a wistful, yet hopeful smile on his face.

Impulsively, he leaned over and was about to kiss him when Sean stopped him.

"No, Orli. I don't want that. I want you. I don't want to have sex with you."

Orli was stunned. Sean wanted him? Just him? No strings attached?

//tonite, I'm down on my knees
tonite I'm beggin' you please
tonite, tonite, please
Why, can't I be makin' love come true//

"Will you want it later?" He asked, his hands twisting nervously around the stem of the rose.

"No. I don't want to have sex with you. I want to make love to you. But that can wait. For now, being with you is enough."

He whispered. Orli nodded and sat sit for several moments, going through that information before he finally burst into tears.

"Shh. It's okay. Shh." Sean soothed him as he then easily picked up the younger man and carried him to the bedroom.

Once there, Sean undressed him, took the rose and placed it in a glass full of water and gently tucked him into the bed before climbing in beside him.

"Sleep now." He whispered as he held Orli until the younger man had cried himself out and fallen into a deep sleep, secure in Sean's arms.


~*~*~*~*~*~*
When Orli woke in the morning, he was dismayed to see that he had once again woken alone.
Sighing, he sat up and rubbed his eyes, hoping that gesture would be enough to stave off the tears he knows are going to spill at any moment.

It works for the moment and he looks around the room. At least he is in his own bed this time. He attempts to smile, but the smile is cut short by the sound of the front door opening.

Startled, all he can do is pull the covers up to his chest and wait for whatever's going to happen next.
To his surprise, it is Sean. He is dressed and holding a bag of pastries, a cardboard container on which two cups of steaming coffee sit and a dog eared book in the other hand.

"Sorry for not waking you." Sean apologized as he sat down, carefully putting the coffees on the bedside table as well as the bag. The book, he kept. Orli snuck a look and saw that it was a collection of poetry of some sorts.

"I just went to get some breakfast from the café and on the way there, I guess I got distracted and went to get this from my trailer." He explained as he held up the book so Orli could see the title clearly.

"The Captain's Verses?" Orli asked as he read the title of the much handled book.

"Yeah. All the poems here were written by Pablo Neruda." Sean explained as he flipped through pages that were either bent at the corners, or lined with multi-coloured pens. Some had scribbles on them that Orli couldn't read, since they were cramped and looped, as if written in a hasty passion, an attempt to capture a moment before it disappeared.

"You ever read him?" Orli shook his head and smiled wryly.

"Not much for love poems. Or Spanish poets. Can't speak the language."

Sean laughed softly. "I picked up enough when I was filming Sharpe. I came across these when Assumpta Serna and I were sitting in a café one night. She read some of them in Spanish and I was just enthralled with them. So much so that she gave me this copy after shooting was done. She told me that I must have had some bit of Latin in me, since I was so passionate." He laughed at the memory.

"She never believed that I was an Englishman. She always said that I wasn't cold enough to be a full-blooded one. There was some Latin in me. Or else I wouldn't have reacted so strongly to them."

He shook his head and laughed softly at the memory as he kept on flipping pages until he found the one that he wanted.

"I got distracted becausere ere is a poem here that reminded me of you and I had to share it with you." He looked at Orli before he read the poem, his eyes a dark shimmering emerald that told Orli something. A something that he couldn't figure out just yet.

Clearing his throat slightly, he then proceeded to read in that rich voice of his.

"The Queen
I have named you queen
There are taller ones than you, taller.
There are purer ones than you, purer.
There are lovelier than you, lovelier.
But you are the queen.
When you go through the streets
no one recognizes you.
No one sees your crystal crown, no one looks
at the carpet of red gold
that you tread as you pass,
the nonexistent carpet.
And when you appear,
all the rivers sound
in my body, bells
shake the sky,
and a hymn fills the world.
Only you and I,
only you and I, my love,
listen to it."

Sean closed the book and looked at Orli, who had covered his mouth with his hand and was now beginning to cry. The imagery, the cadence of the words, all had touched him so deeply. No one had ever bothered to read poetry to him before. Nor had they ever told him that such a beautiful poem had reminded them of him.

"You are my queen, Orli. No matter what anyone may think. You are my queen."

"Sean." Orli choked before falling into the other man's arms, which tightened their grip around him. So he cried himself out again, but this time he was secure in the feeling that he was treasured. That he was loved. Fully and completely.

END.
Song by Weezer. Poem By Pablo Neruda