Such Sweet Bliss
Lance yawns and splashes cold water on his face. He feels flushed and tired and the cool moisture on his skin seems to revitalise him.
He's bored and as much as he loves parties, he just can't be bothered tonight. If it weren't for Joey's after-show high, he thinks he'd be quite happy just going back to the hotel. Same people, same tired questions and he can only hear "So which one are you? The space guy, right? So I heard that's not going so well..." so many times before he goes insane and hits something or someone.
The bathroom seems like the only place he can escape to and be left alone.
"So fucking predictable, isn't it?"
Apparently he spoke too soon. He flinches slightly, startled by the voice behind him and it's somehow familiar, but not.
English.
"Sorry, mate, I didn't mean to scare you. I shouldn't have snuck up on you, like that."
Lance turns around and shakes his head. "Nah, it's cool. I guess I wasn't expecting anyone else to be in here." As soon as he locks eyes with the guy, he recognises him instantly, realises why he sounds so familiar.
Flick of a lighter and the recognisable smell of pot mixed with tobacco, "Want some?"
Lance nods and reaches for it, takes a long hit. "Thanks." He laughs "You know, I never understand you British. I mean, mixing good pot with tobacco, man? That's kinda insane." He takes another hit and passes it back, hand extended. "I'm Lance, by the way."
"I know who you are." The actor takes the joint from him and shakes Lance's hand.
"I'm..."
Lance nods, interrupting. "Yeah, I know who you are, too. Orlando, right? Orlando Bloom."
Orli nods and jumps up onto the vanity next to Lance, extends his leg, before dragging on the joint. "Well... for one thing, Lance, the reason why we mix it with tobacco... which incidentally, is called a spliff... is because it just tastes better. Especially with the crap you Americans put in your ganja, yuck." Orlando makes a face, and hands the joint back to Lance, who shakes his head at him, chuckling. "And, the other thing...?"
Lance can tell that Orlando's just on the other side of nicely stoned. His words are starting to slur a bit and he can't quite string his sentences together as well as he should be able to. Lance knows this, because he's headed the same way. He can feel the pot circulating through his bloodstream, making everything slower, like he's walking through quicksand. Everything's starting to feel so much more vivid: the lights glare down on them, and Lance feels himself get distracted by the drip-drip-drip of the cold-water faucet next to him. Lance's fingers feel strange to him, like they don't belong, and he can't believe he's this high from a few hits off a joint.
"Must be out of practice." He murmurs out loud.
Orlando recovers his train of thought. "The other thing, I wanted to say was..." He lays his fingers on Lance's bare arm and Orlando's fingers must be magic or something, because Lance can feel electrical currents from them, travelling through his body.
Making him hard.
Lance swallows, tries to focus on anything else but the feel of those fingers. But nothing will make him move away from them, either.
Orlando is still grasping for words. "Was. You can call me Orli. Orlando's the name my mum gave me and it's a little embarrassing. Especially here."
Lance blinks. "Why especially here?" Lance feels like he could listen to Orli speak for hours, his voice is so fucking husky and Lance can feel those English vowels sliding over him like butter melting over warm bread.
"Well, you guys all think someone with a name like Orlando must be a ponce, right?"
"A... ponce?"
"Yeah. It's just so fucking upper class English. I get most American actors I meet jumping to conclusions and assuming I'm queer because I have a poncy name and I speak the way I do."
Lance moves in closer and takes the joint again, lazily taking a hit, "I happen to like your voice. And your name. It's old-fashioned, yeah, but I think it's cool." He leans forward so he can almost feel Orli's breath on his face, "Not that there'd be anything wrong if you were. Queer."
Orli tilts his head, looking at Lance with a really intense expression on his face as he takes one last hit, running the joint under cold water and flushing it down the toilet opposite.
"Fuck." Lance breathes out. "What is in that shit, dude? I'm really fuckin' stoned..."
Orli laughs. "I think it had some kinda animal tranquilliser in it."
Lance swallows. Hard. "You mean like K?"
"Yeah", Orli whispers, "Just like K. You...uh, feel like being even more wasted?" He reaches into his pocket and shows Lance the bump-box he's holding briefly, before stuffing it back into his pocket.
Lance nods. It's been awhile since he got really fucked-up and tonight he feels like he's definitely in the right mood for it. Lance feels like maybe he deserves to have some fun.
Lance also thinks the more he looks at Orlando, taking in that exquisite beauty, that ethereal fucking perfection, the easier it will be to forget about the last few months.
About how he feels like a failure.
About the hurt in JC's eyes when he found Freddy in his bed.
Lance would give anything to take it back, give anything to not have seen JC so fucking wounded. He feels like maybe if he could distract himself with drugs and pretty boys and just not thinking too much, maybe then he could stop hating himself for a while.
Orlando jumps off the bench and grabs Lance's hand. Lance can feel how smooth Orli's skin is, its warmth and how it's sending little tremors through him as Orli pulls him towards the bathroom stalls.
Manley, Joey's Rent buddy walks in and nods to Lance. "Uh... Joey's looking for you, I think. He was asking where you were."
"Thanks, dude." Lance throws over his shoulder at Manley before he disappears into the cubicle.
The powder stings a little at first, it always does, but that's all part of it and Lance closes his eyes and tilts his head back, almost enjoying that abrasive, chemical burn and taste. He knows that it'll subside eventually, leaving behind something much better.
Like his momma always said, you gotta take the bad with the good.
Lance kinda doubts she was talking about recreational drug use, though.
Another hit from the bumpbox and Lance is leaning against the wall for support, adjusting to the fact that his body's not quite as stable as it was before, like the floor's made of water and he's halfway between floating and sinking.
Orlando's grabbing the bumpbox from him, doing his own hit before stuffing it back into his pocket. One hand on Lance's arm and the other rubbing the underneath of his nose.
"I think that might be enough for now, mate. It's good stuff. Maybe a little too good."
"Of course it's good. You're a fucking movie star, like anyone's going to sell Orlando Bloom shitty drugs." Lance snorts and Orlando's shaking his head, grinning.
"Good point. You know, I never even tried this shit until I got here. Trust a bunch of fucking Americans to decide that horse tranquilliser's a good way to get high."
"You complainin'?" Lance is feeling so light now, like he's turned into smoke and he reaches out to Orli, draws a line with his fingertips across Orli's chin, touching Orli's bottom lip with his fingertips.
Orlando shakes his head and utters a broken, "No."
His voice sounds soft and breathy, slightly rough and Lance almost wishes Orlando wasn't as aesthetically beautiful, `cause he'd almost love to close his eyes and just take in that beautiful English voice, tainted in only the best ways by the drugs and... something else. Arousal, maybe? "No, I... I'm not complaining at all." He looks straight into Lance's gaze, holds it and smiles, "I have nothing but thanks for this place right now."
Lance grins, widely, and trails his fingers up and down Orli's arm. It feels so warm and the skin's so smooth that it's making Lance's fingers tingle. Orli's mouth is slightly open and he's starting to pant, staring at Lance in anticipation and Lance spins him around, so that Orli's facing the wall.
Orlando's neck tastes as good as Lance imagined it would. Smooth, creamy, porcelain-type skin, slick with perspiration and Lance feels like he could do this for hours, just take a patch of Orli's skin and learn it with his tongue.
Lance places his hands on Orlando's hips and turns him back around to face him, as Orli gets his hands in Lance's hair and pulls him in. He licks at Lance's lips, nibbling on them until Lance pushes him back, presses him back against the wall and pushes his tongue inside Orli's mouth.
It's one of the best kisses Lance has had in a long time. Orlando kisses just like JC, like they have hours to do just that and every inch of Lance's mouth has to be christened with his tongue. And the sooner Lance gets that image of JC out of his head, the better. He doesn't want to get maudlin right now; he just wants to get laid.
Lance pushes one thigh between Orlando's and just... rubs. Licks the shell of Orli's ear and grins at the moans that are coming from him.
"You like that?" Lance practically purrs in his ear and he can feel the shiver that travels through Orli's body. "You're so beautiful, Orlando. So fucking perfect." Lance murmurs, "Way too good to be fuckin' in a bathroom stall at some pretentious Broadway party."
"Yeah, I hate all that bullshit." Orlando murmurs as Lance kisses him again, "I don't know why I came here tonight, all that ever happens is I get picked up by some wanker whose main aim is another notch on the bedpost." He pauses. "What did you have in mind, then?"
Lance runs his tongue along Orli's lower lip. "Well, I was thinking that I'd like to take you back to my hotel, get you on the bed, spread you wide open and fuck you until you can't remember your own name. That's for starters. See, I want more from you than just one notch on my bedpost, baby."
Orlando just swallows. Hard.
"I'd also love to see that pretty mouth wrapped around my cock, see what that dirty mouth of yours can really do. That work for you?" Lance traces the outline of Orlando's mouth with one finger, soft full lips that can only promise good things for him
Orlando just nods, open-mouthed. Lance moves away from him, straightening his clothes up before unlocking the cubicle door.
Joey is sitting on a cheap imitation-leather sofa talking to a redheaded girl Lance doesn't recognise. She's kinda draped all over him and giggles too loudly every time he makes a joke. Lance thinks, as he walks towards them that he can't work out what's tackier, the fake of the sofa or the fake of the girl. He also thinks that perhaps she may want to revisit her flirting technique, because even Joey doesn't go for someone that obvious.
Lance can see Joey's thumb rubbing against her thigh and Lance thinks that he maybe needs to revisit that last thought. Perhaps it's been a particularly dry spell for Joey. He giggles to himself, then clears his throat as he reaches the sofa.
"Lance!" Joey jumps up and hugs him, hand mussing up his hair, "I thought maybe you'd already gone."
"Nope. Still here... well, going soon, but..."
Joey interrupts him with a raised hand. "Katie, honey, do you think you could go get me and my friend here a drink?" He pushes a wadful of bills into her hand and waves her away. Keep the change."
Lance rolls his eyes. Joey has no sense of financial awareness, whatsoever.
The redhead gets to her feet and flicks her eyes over Lance's body. She really is completely obvious. She tilts her head, coquettishly and when she speaks her voice is high-pitched and tinkles, kinda like a bell. A really fucking annoying bell. "Hi Lance, I'm Katie."
"Mmm. Of course you are." These girls are always Katie or Kristen or name that Lance can't quite recall right now and Lance smirks at her as she flounces away, offended. Lance sinks into the sofa and leans his head on Joey's shoulder. Reaches into his pocket and pulls out his mangled packet of Marlboro Lights.
Joey reaches over and lights his cigarette for him. "That was really kinda cunty, Lance. Are you high?" He turns Lance's face towards him, glaring into his eyes.
Lance struggles to focus and sighs, exhaling smoke at the same time. "Yeah." He giggles and leans in closer, whispering in Joey's ear, "Fuck, yeah."
Joey laughs, slightly bitterly. "I shoulda guessed. You're even more of a bitch when you're wasted."
Lance flips him off.
"So who gave it to you?"
Lance nods in Orlando's direction. Orli's hugging his friends goodbye and sauntering over to where Lance is sitting. Great fucking walk: dirty hips swinging away, almost like a woman and Lance is wetting his lips, rubbing sweat-dampened palms on his jeans. He can't wait to get those hips moving under him.
"See him? Coming towards us?" Lance shifts in his seat. "I'll be leaving with him soon. Thanks for the drink and all, Joe, but... I won't be needing it."
Joey rolls his eyes. "And here's me thinking you might've actually learned something after Freddy. Lance, the last thing you need is another starfucker around and..." Joey stops himself short as Orlando almost reaches them. "Oh."
Lance raises an eyebrow and grins. "Yes, Joe?"
Joey coughs, "That's uh... that's Orlando Bloom. Uh... forget it."
Lance knows Joey's always got his back and it means more to him than he can ever say. For now, he settles for kissing him on the forehead and telling him he loves him as Orlando gestures that he's leaving and Lance follows.
Lance's skin feels like it's alive. Tingly, sensitised and he's starting to think that it's not the drugs that are making him feel this way. It's like the only thing that exists aside from him and his skin is Orlando and his mouth.
It hasn't been that long since Lance last had sex, but he'd forgotten how heady the first time with a new lover can be. How exciting it is to take the time to get to learn the other person's body and for that person to learn yours. Not everyone is into that of course, someone as sensual as Orlando is a rare find. Especially in the circles that Lance tends to run in.
Lance is so pleased they didn't just fuck in the bathroom at the party.
He moans as Orlando laps at one nipple, bathing it with entire strokes of his tongue, nibbling at it before moving onto the other one.
"You like that?" That voice does remarkable things to Lance's body. It's like it's directly connected to his cock and every time Orli speaks in those broken, husky tones, Lance can feel his cock pulse.
"Like would kinda be an understatement." Lance pulls Orli up gently, hands in his hair. "You're incredible."
Orli smiles and it's so fucking intoxicating that Lance can't help but smile back.
"Thanks. You know, Lance, you're pretty amazing yourself." Orli licks down Lance's body, slow wet line until he reaches his abs, then traces the lines of them with his tongue. "I just love your body. So fucking perfect." Orli starts to tongue Lance's belly button and Lance can't help it, can't control it, he thrusts his hips upwards and moans again.
Orli rubs his thumb across Lance's lower lip. Lance opens his mouth and starts to lick the soft pad of Orli's thumb before going down on it, taking the whole thing in, before pulling back so only the tip is between his lips, worrying it with his teeth.
"Tease."
Lance is a tease. He knows this. He flashes back to memories of JC pushing him against the nearest wall, tongue flicking over the whorls of his ear, whispering, "Slut. God, you're such a fucking tease, Lance."
And Lance needs to not see things like that behind his eyelids, no matter how much he wants to. He needs to burn them out, tear those memories out by the roots. He laughs, bitterly and runs his tongue slowly in between Orli's fingers.
Orli hisses and snatches his hand back, unfastening Lance's jeans, not breaking eye contact as he draws them down, so slowly that Lance can feel the denim brushing against his skin, inch by inch.
Lance knows how good he looks naked now. Knows how every line, every muscle must look to someone else's eye and fuck it, he's worked damn hard for it, so he stretches, arms above his head, his body taut with anticipation.
He can almost feel his skin hum as he feels Orli's lips ghost over his hipbone and he sighs breathlessly. Lance can feel Orli's tongue flickering across the sharp line, just teasing him, just a hint of wetness and heat and now he isn't quite sure who's the bigger tease out of the two of them.
Especially when Orli's mouth is poised, just inches from Lance's cock and he's doing nothing more than breathing over the head of it. And this is just fucking cruel.
Lance thrusts his hips upward and tries to meet Orli and his mouth halfway, but Orli avoids him. He takes advantage of Lance's distraction to flip him over onto his stomach and Lance has one second to react before he's being spread open and then there's heat and wet and too much fucking sensation to handle as he feels Orli's tongue moving inside him.
So fucking good and if Lance felt like his skin was itching and tingling before, well now it feels like every inch is on fire. So much that it's almost unbearable and Lance is pushing back now; urging Orli on, making him fuck him deeper. All Lance can feel is Orli's hands gripping his ass, his tongue moving so fucking perfectly inside him, his warm, warm breath and Lance's own cock rubbing against the bedsheets.
Pleasure so intense it's fucking burning and he needs more. He feels like he can't do more than breathe, but he manages to choke out: "Fuck me."
Orli whispers against Lance's back. "You know, I don't usually top."
Lance looks back over his shoulder and smirks at Orlando, "You do now. Don't tell me you gave that pretty little mouth a workout just for the hell of it, `cause we both know that's not true."
Orlando rolls him over so they're facing again and Lance pulls him in for a kiss. Licks Orli's lips and pushes in and there's nothing gentle about this kiss, it's all want and need and desperation and Orli's nodding, murmuring "God. Yes. Want you." under his breath as he pulls his shirt over his head.
Lance decides that sex-talk sounds so much hotter in an English accent.
Orlando is built kinda like Justin. Long, lean, but packed with more muscle than Lance would've imagined to look at him. At first glance he's incredibly delicate: pretty face, fine features, elegant hands, but he's much stronger than he looks.
Skin like porcelain, though. Perfect, unmarred and so very pale and Lance has to taste it. Runs his tongue over Orli's collarbone, lapping at the beads of sweat forming on his skin, before settling on one pale pink nipple and licking gently, watching as it peaks and hardens before moving on to the other one.
"You taste so good." Lance murmurs as he laps at Orli's skin, "So. Fucking. Perfect."
Orli's head is thrown back slightly, mouth open, eyes closed. He looks so utterly wanton and Lance can just imagine how good it'll feel to see his face contorted with pleasure as Lance fucks him, see that mouth wrapped around him. Lance's cock twitches at the thought of it, but right now, he knows what he needs.
Lance needs to be filled and fucked and feel Orlando's slim hips working as his cock slams into him, deeper, harder. Lance is reaching into his bag, rifling through for what he needs and pressing a foil- wrapped square into Orlando's hand as well as the iridescent tube he's been carrying around with him.
It's not like he doesn't get lucky a lot, but yeah; this has been an evening of exceptionally good luck.
Orlando places both items on the bed as he gets on his feet and rapidly gets rid of shoes, socks and pants, shucking them along with his boxers. He moves back to the bed and squeezes lube into his hand, rubbing his fingers together so they're slippery and slick, all the time looking down at Lance.
Lance licks his lips at the sight of Orlando's cock and he's murmuring, "Hurry up", under his breath, opening his legs and pulling Orli in closer, kissing him as Lance guides Orli's hand to his ass.
Lance's breathing is audible, laboured as he feels one of Orli's fingers rubbing at him, just teasing and pushing slowly inside. As he feels that finger moving slowly inside him, Lance gasps and moves his hips, moving with Orli now, trying to fuck himself. It feels so fucking good and as Orli adds another finger, Lance realises it's what he's wanted for so long now. He can see the look of intense concentration on Orlando's face as he fucks Lance like this, fingers buried inside him.
Lance wonders why it's taken so long for him to admit to himself that he needed this.
Maybe because he's still too busy obsessing over the last guy who fucked him?
But that doesn't matter right now, all that matters is what he's got here, in front of him. Absolutely drop-fucking-dead gorgeous actor about to fuck him. Lance almost yells as he feels Orli's fingers brush against that sweet, sweet spot inside him and his whole body writhes on Orlando's hand, forcing his fingers in deeper.
"God, you're so fucking sexy." Orli breathes out as Lance tears the foil package open, rolling the condom onto Orli's cock, which is beautiful and perfect and Lance can't wait until later so he can give Orli the most mind-melting blowjob he's ever had. Nice image to sustain Lance for a few minutes as Orli's squeezing more lube into his hand, rubbing it on his cock and lining himself up, easing slowly inside.
It's been so long since Lance let anyone fuck him and it takes him a while to adjust. He knows how tight he must feel to Orli and how hot it must be, and... oh fuck. Amazing how one minute he's feeling uncomfortable almost to the point of pain and within seconds everything changes. Orli starts to move inside him, slowly at first but when Lance starts to move with him, hips working sinuously with his thrusting, Orli starts moving harder, deeper. Relentless strokes that Lance can feel through his whole body, in every fucking nerve ending. Lance can feel Orli's thrusts getting faster, his breathing speeding up and he knows that neither of them are going to last much longer.
Lance snakes a hand between them, so that he's touching his own cock, thumb rubbing pre-come over the head. He forms a fist and starts to fuck his own hand on every downstroke that Orli makes.
Lance looks up into his eyes and there's such intense concentration there mixed with lust and Lance can feel himself start to lose control, can feel himself slipping. Orli pulls almost all the way out before slamming in, deep, one last time and Lance is coming: moaning and panting and hips, fucking writhing with it. Orli continues to fuck him until he's whimpering and moaning out Lance's name over and over like some kind of fucking mantra before he collapses next to him on the bed.
Lance hasn't been this well-fucked in ages and he doesn't feel like he's going to be able to move ever. Let alone in the next hour, and that's something that's going to make fucking this incredible guy a little difficult.
Oh well, bad with the good.
Interesting how no matter what, it always comes down to that.