Fic: Agent Bloom. Part 1/?
Feb. 25th, 2004 07:09 am![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
seethingheathenTitle: Agent Bloom, Part One.
Author:![[livejournal.com profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/external/lj-userinfo.gif)
limeysugar
Pairing: Dominic Monaghan/Orlando Bloom
Rating: Overall: NC-17. This part: R for language.
Disclaimers: Not true.
Commence Operation: Get Into Dom’s Pants, thinks Orlando, and then laughs at himself. Who do you think you are, James bloody Bond? He downs the last bit of beer in his glass, and goes over to the bar where Elijah and Billy are, and considers ordering a gin martini- shaken, not stirred- but then realises no one would get the inside joke he shares with himself. He must have a stupid look on his face, because Elijah asks him what the hell he’s thinking about.
“Nothing,” he answers, still grinning. “Secret agents, stuff like that.”
“Right. Fucking weirdo, Bloom.” Billy raises his empty glass at the barman who brings him a fresh beer. “Englishmen.”
Bloom. Orlando Bloom. Licence to thrill, baby. “You twats seen Dom?” Orlando sets his glass on the bar and looks around. Dom was supposed to meet them there at the pub at nine, and it's getting close to ten now. “Bastard’s late and it’s his round.”
“I’d hate to think of what you’d say about him if you didn’t like him,” Elijah says, shaking his head. “I’ll never get you guys and the way you talk to each other.”
“It’s when we say nice things about you, Lij, that you should worry. Now since Dom’s not here, and you’re the youngest, it’s your round.” Orlando looks to Billy for agreement, and Billy nods.
“Aye. And you’ve got the most money.”
It isn’t until three rounds later that Dom turns up, apologising to one and all for his lateness but not offering to buy the next round of beer. Orlando may be half way to pissed, but his cock still has enough sense to twitch as his eyes take in the sight before him. Dom’s just wearing a tee shirt and jeans, but it’s the bracelets and cuffs on Dom’s wrists that nearly do Orlando in every time he sees the man. He had decided from the start that the skin under those adornments was just begging to be licked, and he was going to be the one to lick it.
“About time you got here,” Orlando starts, but is cut off by Billy.
“Your girlfriend here was beginning to worry.”
“Fuck you twice. I wasn’t worried,” Orlando nearly chokes on his own spit, realising what he has just said. “I mean, I’m not his fucking girlfriend. Fucking tosser. But Dom, it is your turn to buy.”
“So it is,” Dom sighs, motioning for the barman and taking his wallet from his back pocket. There is a tear in the denim below the pocket, and Orlando is granted a brief glimpse of the skin of Dom’s upper thigh before he sits on the barstool. “And from the looks of things, I have some catching up to do.”
The rest of the evening is filled with drinking, talking, and piss-taking, and by the time last orders are called, three of the four men are too drunk to stand, let alone drive, so Dom rings for a cab. He’s only a fraction less intoxicated than the rest, but it is enough to coherently dial a number given him by the barman. He helps his friends to the car when it comes, and then flops down on the seat next to Orlando.
Orlando’s bloodstream is too contaminated with alcohol for the lower half of his body to respond to being pressed thigh to thigh with Dom in the cramped back seat, and even his mind stops working after a moment as he passes out, letting his head rest against Elijah’s. Dom looks at him and shakes his head, and gives the driver Billy’s address to drop him home first. It’s easier, Dom decides, to go in order of who is closest to the door rather than whose house is on the way to whose, and he will get out last to make certain all of his mates make it home safely.
When Billy and Elijah have been dropped off at their respective residences, it is only Dom and Orlando, and Dom thinks that he will just crash at Orlando’s and save himself some money.
“Orlando,” Dom whispers, shaking the sleeping man. “You’re home. Help me help you out.” Orlando mumbles something incoherent, and opens his eyes a fraction. “That’s a boy, Bloom. Wakey wakey.”
“Bloom. Orlando Bloom,” Orlando slurs. “Licence to thrill.”
“What?” Dom’s laughing so hard he can barely help Orlando out of the car and onto the pavement. It isn’t helping that he’s drunk as well. “Did you just say- oh, fuck it. I’ve got to pay this man, Agent Bloom, so sit here for a minute.”
Orlando obediently sits on the pavement as Dom pays the driver. He watches the car speed away down the street and vaguely wonders if Dom was inside of it or not. When he feels Dom grip the underside of his arm and try to life him up, he realises slowly that Dom must intend to sleep over. “Am I your girlfriend?” he mutters, just loudly enough for Dom to hear.
“Uh, no-”
“Cos Billy said I was your girlfriend,” Orlando drawls, closing his eyes and putting all of his weight on Dom. Dom’s legs can hardly support him alone, so both men fall to the ground.
“Billy’s an idiot. Now we’ve got to get into the house before your neighbours ring the police. I don’t fancy explaining to Peter why he has to come get us out of jail in the middle of the night.” Dom tries to stand, but Orlando is keeping him down. His alcohol addled mind can’t determine if it’s on purpose, or if Orlando just can’t move.
“I can’t be your girlfriend anyway. I’m not a girl.”
“Get off me, will you? We’ve got to get inside the fucking house before the neighbours ring the fucking cops.” Dom is trying not to laugh at Orlando, at the situation, but he can’t help it. “We’ll determine your gender in the morning when we can think more clearly.”
Finally, nearly twenty minutes later, Orlando is sprawled across his bed, and Dominic is attempting to remove his shoes. He finally gets the laces undone, pulls Orlando’s shoes off, and starts on his own.
“Dommie?”
“Yeah?”
“Can you help me with my trousers? I don’t think I can get them off.”
Dom sighs and abandons his shoes to help Orlando. As he unzips Orlando’s trousers, Dom sees that he isn’t wearing anything underneath. “Well fuck me,” he says under his breath. “Forget to wash your undies?” But Orlando doesn’t respond; he’s passed out cold.
To be continued.
Author:
limeysugarPairing: Dominic Monaghan/Orlando Bloom
Rating: Overall: NC-17. This part: R for language.
Disclaimers: Not true.
Commence Operation: Get Into Dom’s Pants, thinks Orlando, and then laughs at himself. Who do you think you are, James bloody Bond? He downs the last bit of beer in his glass, and goes over to the bar where Elijah and Billy are, and considers ordering a gin martini- shaken, not stirred- but then realises no one would get the inside joke he shares with himself. He must have a stupid look on his face, because Elijah asks him what the hell he’s thinking about.
“Nothing,” he answers, still grinning. “Secret agents, stuff like that.”
“Right. Fucking weirdo, Bloom.” Billy raises his empty glass at the barman who brings him a fresh beer. “Englishmen.”
Bloom. Orlando Bloom. Licence to thrill, baby. “You twats seen Dom?” Orlando sets his glass on the bar and looks around. Dom was supposed to meet them there at the pub at nine, and it's getting close to ten now. “Bastard’s late and it’s his round.”
“I’d hate to think of what you’d say about him if you didn’t like him,” Elijah says, shaking his head. “I’ll never get you guys and the way you talk to each other.”
“It’s when we say nice things about you, Lij, that you should worry. Now since Dom’s not here, and you’re the youngest, it’s your round.” Orlando looks to Billy for agreement, and Billy nods.
“Aye. And you’ve got the most money.”
It isn’t until three rounds later that Dom turns up, apologising to one and all for his lateness but not offering to buy the next round of beer. Orlando may be half way to pissed, but his cock still has enough sense to twitch as his eyes take in the sight before him. Dom’s just wearing a tee shirt and jeans, but it’s the bracelets and cuffs on Dom’s wrists that nearly do Orlando in every time he sees the man. He had decided from the start that the skin under those adornments was just begging to be licked, and he was going to be the one to lick it.
“About time you got here,” Orlando starts, but is cut off by Billy.
“Your girlfriend here was beginning to worry.”
“Fuck you twice. I wasn’t worried,” Orlando nearly chokes on his own spit, realising what he has just said. “I mean, I’m not his fucking girlfriend. Fucking tosser. But Dom, it is your turn to buy.”
“So it is,” Dom sighs, motioning for the barman and taking his wallet from his back pocket. There is a tear in the denim below the pocket, and Orlando is granted a brief glimpse of the skin of Dom’s upper thigh before he sits on the barstool. “And from the looks of things, I have some catching up to do.”
The rest of the evening is filled with drinking, talking, and piss-taking, and by the time last orders are called, three of the four men are too drunk to stand, let alone drive, so Dom rings for a cab. He’s only a fraction less intoxicated than the rest, but it is enough to coherently dial a number given him by the barman. He helps his friends to the car when it comes, and then flops down on the seat next to Orlando.
Orlando’s bloodstream is too contaminated with alcohol for the lower half of his body to respond to being pressed thigh to thigh with Dom in the cramped back seat, and even his mind stops working after a moment as he passes out, letting his head rest against Elijah’s. Dom looks at him and shakes his head, and gives the driver Billy’s address to drop him home first. It’s easier, Dom decides, to go in order of who is closest to the door rather than whose house is on the way to whose, and he will get out last to make certain all of his mates make it home safely.
When Billy and Elijah have been dropped off at their respective residences, it is only Dom and Orlando, and Dom thinks that he will just crash at Orlando’s and save himself some money.
“Orlando,” Dom whispers, shaking the sleeping man. “You’re home. Help me help you out.” Orlando mumbles something incoherent, and opens his eyes a fraction. “That’s a boy, Bloom. Wakey wakey.”
“Bloom. Orlando Bloom,” Orlando slurs. “Licence to thrill.”
“What?” Dom’s laughing so hard he can barely help Orlando out of the car and onto the pavement. It isn’t helping that he’s drunk as well. “Did you just say- oh, fuck it. I’ve got to pay this man, Agent Bloom, so sit here for a minute.”
Orlando obediently sits on the pavement as Dom pays the driver. He watches the car speed away down the street and vaguely wonders if Dom was inside of it or not. When he feels Dom grip the underside of his arm and try to life him up, he realises slowly that Dom must intend to sleep over. “Am I your girlfriend?” he mutters, just loudly enough for Dom to hear.
“Uh, no-”
“Cos Billy said I was your girlfriend,” Orlando drawls, closing his eyes and putting all of his weight on Dom. Dom’s legs can hardly support him alone, so both men fall to the ground.
“Billy’s an idiot. Now we’ve got to get into the house before your neighbours ring the police. I don’t fancy explaining to Peter why he has to come get us out of jail in the middle of the night.” Dom tries to stand, but Orlando is keeping him down. His alcohol addled mind can’t determine if it’s on purpose, or if Orlando just can’t move.
“I can’t be your girlfriend anyway. I’m not a girl.”
“Get off me, will you? We’ve got to get inside the fucking house before the neighbours ring the fucking cops.” Dom is trying not to laugh at Orlando, at the situation, but he can’t help it. “We’ll determine your gender in the morning when we can think more clearly.”
Finally, nearly twenty minutes later, Orlando is sprawled across his bed, and Dominic is attempting to remove his shoes. He finally gets the laces undone, pulls Orlando’s shoes off, and starts on his own.
“Dommie?”
“Yeah?”
“Can you help me with my trousers? I don’t think I can get them off.”
Dom sighs and abandons his shoes to help Orlando. As he unzips Orlando’s trousers, Dom sees that he isn’t wearing anything underneath. “Well fuck me,” he says under his breath. “Forget to wash your undies?” But Orlando doesn’t respond; he’s passed out cold.
To be continued.
