| Title: Fractured Authors: Jo & Brenda Pairing: Karl Urban/Orlando Bloom Rating: NC17 Summary: Need finally outweighs consequence Disclaimer: Um...no. And, um...no. Never happened. Author's Notes: Yes, Brenda is evil. Jo loves her anyway. Inspired in part, by Cas' wonderful "Where We Are" fic series & a discussion about different OTPs with Lobelia from a long time back.
"You're in a lovely mood tonight." Karl whirled to face the speaker, calming only a little when he saw Orlando standing there, still in his armor, wig hanging lank around his wet and dirty face. "You could say that." "Come on, then." Karl allowed himself to be dragged into the small trailer he shared with Bernard, watched in tired bemusement as Orlando pushed him down on the small sofa and walked to the kitchenette. "What's this?" "It's going to be me fixing us some tea if I could find the bloody package," Orlando growled, flinging open cabinet after cabinet, seeming to take satisfaction in the banging. "It's in that cabinet," Karl said after Orlando had slammed a few more doors. He tried not to laugh when Orlando turned and frowned at him. "What? You didn't ask." "Fucker," Orlando muttered, snatching the box. He slammed the kettle on the stove, yanked the knob. Karl covered his mouth with one hand, watching Orlando over his fingers. God, but he was fucking sexy when he was pissed. His hand dropped swiftly when Orlando glared at him again, and he bit his lip hard to keep from smiling. "Anything else you need?" "To beat the piss out of someone, a hot shower and a blowjob." Orlando whirled, pushed dirty strands of wig out of his face. "Why? You think PJ would set up a boxing ring if we asked?" Karl blinked. Then he lost his composure, falling over on the small sofa and laughing. "Oh...God..." he gasped, waving one hand. A hot shower, a blow job, and a boxing ring...nice to know the kid had his priorities straight. Karl continued to howl with laughter, curling up in a ball as a small, rational part of his brain asked him just what the hell he was doing. Orlando stood for another moment, staring down at Karl before exhaustion and hilarity caught up with him. He sank to the floor, overcome with deep laughter, leaning back against the wall. "I'm s-serious," he managed to get out before a fresh wave of laughter claimed him. "I k-know..." Karl rolled off the sofa, landing on the floor with a thump that did nothing to stop his laughter. He was tired, wet, cold, pissed off...and there was nothing amusing about the situation at all. So he kept telling himself. But it was several more long minutes before he could stop laughing long enough to breathe. "God..." Orlando's laughter had subsided to mere chuckles. "I hate this fucking place," he grinned, bumping his head against Karl's shoulder. "You're not the only one," Karl said, a few random chuckles escaping as he wiped his eyes and leaned against Orlando. "Fucking rain...." Orlando slid down a bit more, brushed his knee against Karl's companionably. "Fucking scene..." "Fucking mud..." Karl propped his back against the sofa and closed his eyes, his leg shifting to bump against Orlando's. "Fucking country..." The soft voice was right up against Karl's ear, and he turned to it, eyes fluttering open. Saw Orlando. Right. There. "Fucking hell..." His lips were on Orlando's before he finished the sentence. Every nerve he had woke up screaming, and Karl's hands were tangled in Orlando's blond wig before he was aware of moving. He heard a groan, wasn't sure if it came from him or Orlando, as his tongue explored Orlando's mouth. Cinnamon and smoke and some odd, tangy flavor that reminded Karl of fresh oranges. That was what Orlando tasted like. And fuck all if it wasn't the most addictive thing. It had been far too long since he tasted those lips...a fucking lifetime. Karl set about correcting the mistake. When they finally parted, gasping for air, Karl was surprised to find Orlando tangled in his lap. "Again," Orlando murmured, dragging Karl's lips to meet his, slipping his tongue inside Karl's open mouth. If anything, this kiss was even hotter than the first one, burst through Karl's body like sunshine, left him hot, sweaty, aching. "Christ...." Karl whispered the word along Orlando's jaw, his fingers delving beneath armor and leather and velvet, finding the bare skin of Orlando's back. He wanted Orlando naked, wanted Orlando on the floor beneath him...and he wanted it now. And it was wrong. So very fucking wrong. He lifted his head, opened his mouth to speak, and was once more ensnared by hot eyes the color of rich coffee. "Fuck..." "This is so..." Orlando chewed his lower lip, hands trembling. He didn't move from Karl's lap. "What the hell are we doing?" "I don't know," Karl sighed and closed his eyes, his forehead resting against Orlando's. What were they doing? Damned if he knew. He loved Harry. But Orlando... Ah Christ.... "I love Viggo," Orlando whispered, tracing the soft skin of Karl's neck and throat. "I shouldn't be...you shouldn't..." "No, we shouldn't," Karl whispered, turned his head so his lips touched Orlando's ear. "I love Harry. And this..." "...it's wrong," Orlando finished, turning his lips to meet Karl's, the kiss fragile and brief. "Yes, it is." Karl leaned back once more, Orlando still in his lap. It was wrong. In so many ways. But why the hell did it feel so fucking right? He sighed, lifted one hand to cup Orlando's cheek. They both breathed sighs of relief and regret when the teakettle whistled, fracturing the heavy spell. "I'll get our tea," Orlando said, placing another soft kiss on Karl's lips before sliding off of him and walking to the tiny stove. Karl pushed himself back up onto the sofa and watched Orlando. Before he could say anything, the door opened, and Viggo walked into the small trailer. "There you are!" "Hey, Vig," Karl said, managing a weak smile. He rubbed a hand over his face and looked out the window. Anywhere but at the man whose lover had just been in his lap. "Nice to see you two hiding out from the rain and leaving the rest of us to turn into popsicles," Viggo teased, looking from Karl to Orlando. "You weren't around," Orlando replied archly, his eyes and stance betraying nothing except teasing and love. "Fancy some tea?" "I'd love some." Viggo flopped on the sofa next to Karl, shook water out of his wig. "Fucking rain..." "Fucking mud," Karl said before he stopped to think. Then his eyes darted to Orlando, and he took in the wide eyes and slightly paler than normal complexion. Shit. "The rain's worse," Viggo replied as he stretched his legs out in front of him and took the cup of tea that Orlando offered. "Much," Orlando agreed, passing Karl's mug to him with only a slight brush of fingers. He sat next to Viggo, leaned on his shoulder. And Karl tried not to think about how natural and right they looked together. "So, was he boring you about the trails again?" Viggo asked Orlando, kissing his forehead. "He's been dying to get some riding in when we finish this fucked up shoot." "I didn't say a word about the trails." Karl held up a hand, grinned. It was the truth. Of course, he wasn't about to tell Viggo what he had said. Or done. And certainly not when Viggo still had his sword strapped around his waist. Karl liked his head right where it was, thank you very much. Viggo rolled his eyes and slid an arm around Orlando's shoulders. "Sure you didn't." "He was too busy boring me with golfing stories," Orlando replied, grinning around Viggo's arm at Karl. And Karl was amazed at this kid's acting ability. If he hadn't known... "And at least he had the decency to pretend to be interested," Karl stated, grinning back at Orlando. "Unlike some people I won't name." "I know you're not talking about me," Viggo laughed, dropping another kiss on Orlando's forehead. Karl looked away, watching the rain falling outside the window. |