Fic: Agent Bloom, Part Two. NC-17.
Mar. 14th, 2004 09:01 am![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
seethingheathenTitle: Agent Bloom, Part Two.
Author:![[livejournal.com profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/external/lj-userinfo.gif)
limeysugar.
Pairing: Dominic Monaghan/Orlando Bloom.
Rating: NC-17.
Disclaimers: Not true.
Part One can be found here.
Orlando wakes up at nearly ten o’clock the next morning, and lies there staring at the ceiling. He remembers vaguely that Dom had come home with him, and he realises that he’s not wearing his trousers, so he begins to wonder if maybe Dom fucked him and he missed it.
“Dom!” Orlando calls, and then wishes he hadn’t. His head is suddenly pounding, and his mouth is so dry that his lip splits. “Fuck,” he murmurs, turning his head and folding the pillow over to cover his ear.
Dom, fully clothed but scruffy-looking, walks into Orlando’s bedroom and sits on the bed. “Morning Agent Bloom. Sleep well?”
“Agent Bloom? What the fuck are you on about?” Orlando sits up and looks at Dom.
Dom doesn’t explain; he just laughs and shakes his head. “You mind if I have a shower?”
“Go ahead. Flannels and towels are in the cupboard there.” Orlando watches as Dom gets up and heads to the shower. He groans and flops back down onto the mattress and covers his head. He thinks about getting up for a headache tablet, but they’re in the medicine chest, and Dom’s in the shower. “Fuck,” he mumbles again, and tries to will the pain away, to no avail.
A few moments later, Orlando hears the shower start, and he hears when Dom steps under the spray. In a combination of normal morning wood and imagining Dom naked and soapy, Orlando’s cock is so hard that he’s fairly certain every drop of blood in his body has migrated to his crotch. Never one to pass up an opportunity for a crafty wank, Orlando reaches blindly into the drawer of the bedside table for the little tube of lotion he keeps there for such an occasion, and squirts some into his palm. He grips his cock in his right hand, closes his eyes, and begins to stroke.
Dom’s in the shower, waiting for me to come in and wash his back, Orlando imagines, realising and not caring that his fantasy is so corny. It’s his fantasy. ‘Oh, Dom,’ I say, bending over. ‘I seem to have dropped the soap!’ Of course he takes the opportunity to ram his di-
“Oh, shit! Oh, fuck, Orli!” Dom quickly turns and walks back out of the bedroom, nearly running into the doorjamb. “Sorry, mate. I’ll wait out here til you’re done or whatever.”
God Damnit. Ruined a perfectly good wank. “Christ, man! Don’t you knock?”
“I did,” Dom snarks, his back to Orlando. “I guess you didn’t hear me.”
“Oh. No, I guess I was thinking about something else.” Before Orlando realises the sheer absurdity of that statement, the words are out of his mouth and Dom is laughing.
“Or someone else.” Dom turns and looks thoughtfully at Orlando. “Viggo, I reckon. I don’t think there’s a man or woman- straight, gay, or in between- who doesn’t want to shag him rotten.”
“No, you cunt. Not Viggo. I mean, he’s great and all, but he doesn’t do it for me. Too weird, that one.” Orlando squeezes the bridge of his nose. “Fucking head hurts. Could you get me a couple tablets?” Dom’s halfway down the hall before Orlando’s brain catches up with the conversation he and Dom just had. When Dom comes back with the tablets, Orlando gives him a sly grin. “So you fancy a bit of slap and tickle with Viggo, do you?”
Dom sticks his tongue out at Orlando. “No, you jackass. I was just saying that there are people who do. Anyway, you’re the one with the hard-on,” he says, glancing at the sheet, which is tented conspicuously over Orlando’s lap. “Thought you took care of that.”
“I was trying to, but some wanker walked in on me.”
“You had your willy in your hand, and you’re calling me a wanker?”
“Yeah, alright. Point taken. Now, will you get the fuck out of here so I can finish up? Unless you intend to do it for me.”
Dom looks cheekily at Orlando, and yanks back the sheet. Orlando doesn’t even try and stop him; he just wonders how far this will actually go. Dom’s a great joker and Orlando isn’t quite sure if the man is serious or if he’s taking the piss.
“What’s wrong Bloom? Afraid I might actually touch you?”
“Afraid? No.” Damnit, Dom, you bastard. Just do it.
“Bloom. Orlando Bloom,” Dom grins, staring at Orlando, whose face has gone slightly crimson with the realisation that his mouth had gotten away from him in his drunkenness. “Licence to thrill. Or so I hear.”
“Erm-”
“And,” Dom continues, “I reckon I can let you be my girlfriend.”
“I’m not drinking ever again. Ever.” Orlando reaches for the sheet, but Dom’s got a good grip on it. “Alright Dom. You can let go, mate. You got me. You’re funny, I’m funny, now we can go on about our lives.”
“Not until you tell me, Agent Bloom, what your mission to save England was. Perhaps you were going to shag the villains to death?”
“Fuck off, you twat. Now move so I can have a piss.” Orlando manages his way past Dom and out of the bedroom, but not before Dom can fire off a witty remark.
“If you’re going to be my girlfriend, you’ll have to clean up that mouth.” Dom is rewarded with a quick two-finger salute as Orlando leaves the bedroom.
Orlando stands in front of the toilet and stares at a chip in the paint and weighs the pros and cons of having a shower. Pro: I can wank. Con: What if I do, and Dom really does want to fuck around? Then I’m stuck looking like a twit. Fucking cunt, that Dom.
“You die in there?” Dom’s not in the bedroom; Orlando can tell. He opts for the shower and wank.
“I’m having a shower, if that’s alright,” Orlando calls, and flushes the toilet. Before he can get the water turned on in the shower, the door opens, and Dom walks in. Orlando looks at him in disbelief. “Ever hear of a thing called privacy, mate? Second time you’ve walked in when you should have knocked.”
“Sue me,” Dom says, pulling his shirt off over his head. Orlando is fixated on Dom’s left nipple. So much so, in fact, that Dom notices and pinches it between his index finger and thumb. “I’m a threat to the Crown, Agent Bloom. What do you think you can do to stop me from kidnapping the Queen?”
“For England,” Orlando states matter-of-factly, and drops to his knees in front of Dom. His hands busy themselves with a button and a zip, and Dom’s jeans are around his ankles.
When Orlando’s mouth closes around the head of Dom’s cock, Dom’s thigh twitches a bit. As Orlando’s tongue finds that spot just underneath, Dom has to lean against the tiled wall to keep himself from collapsing. With one hand, Orlando is jerking Dom off from the base of his cock to the middle where his index finger touches his top lip with every stroke, and with the other hand, he’s bringing himself off. Dom has his hands on Orlando’s shoulders, his fingertips leaving small bruises on the skin there, but Orlando doesn’t mind. He just keeps his rhythm until Dom squeezes hard and empties himself into Orlando’s mouth. The taste of Dom on his tongue sends Orlando flying over the edge, and he comes hard into his hand and onto the bit of tile showing between Dom’s spread feet. He looks up at Dom, who has his eyes closed and his mouth open, and laughs.
“Huh?” Dom’s breathing as if he’s just run ten miles.
“Mission accomplished.”
End.
Author:
limeysugar.Pairing: Dominic Monaghan/Orlando Bloom.
Rating: NC-17.
Disclaimers: Not true.
Part One can be found here.
Orlando wakes up at nearly ten o’clock the next morning, and lies there staring at the ceiling. He remembers vaguely that Dom had come home with him, and he realises that he’s not wearing his trousers, so he begins to wonder if maybe Dom fucked him and he missed it.
“Dom!” Orlando calls, and then wishes he hadn’t. His head is suddenly pounding, and his mouth is so dry that his lip splits. “Fuck,” he murmurs, turning his head and folding the pillow over to cover his ear.
Dom, fully clothed but scruffy-looking, walks into Orlando’s bedroom and sits on the bed. “Morning Agent Bloom. Sleep well?”
“Agent Bloom? What the fuck are you on about?” Orlando sits up and looks at Dom.
Dom doesn’t explain; he just laughs and shakes his head. “You mind if I have a shower?”
“Go ahead. Flannels and towels are in the cupboard there.” Orlando watches as Dom gets up and heads to the shower. He groans and flops back down onto the mattress and covers his head. He thinks about getting up for a headache tablet, but they’re in the medicine chest, and Dom’s in the shower. “Fuck,” he mumbles again, and tries to will the pain away, to no avail.
A few moments later, Orlando hears the shower start, and he hears when Dom steps under the spray. In a combination of normal morning wood and imagining Dom naked and soapy, Orlando’s cock is so hard that he’s fairly certain every drop of blood in his body has migrated to his crotch. Never one to pass up an opportunity for a crafty wank, Orlando reaches blindly into the drawer of the bedside table for the little tube of lotion he keeps there for such an occasion, and squirts some into his palm. He grips his cock in his right hand, closes his eyes, and begins to stroke.
Dom’s in the shower, waiting for me to come in and wash his back, Orlando imagines, realising and not caring that his fantasy is so corny. It’s his fantasy. ‘Oh, Dom,’ I say, bending over. ‘I seem to have dropped the soap!’ Of course he takes the opportunity to ram his di-
“Oh, shit! Oh, fuck, Orli!” Dom quickly turns and walks back out of the bedroom, nearly running into the doorjamb. “Sorry, mate. I’ll wait out here til you’re done or whatever.”
God Damnit. Ruined a perfectly good wank. “Christ, man! Don’t you knock?”
“I did,” Dom snarks, his back to Orlando. “I guess you didn’t hear me.”
“Oh. No, I guess I was thinking about something else.” Before Orlando realises the sheer absurdity of that statement, the words are out of his mouth and Dom is laughing.
“Or someone else.” Dom turns and looks thoughtfully at Orlando. “Viggo, I reckon. I don’t think there’s a man or woman- straight, gay, or in between- who doesn’t want to shag him rotten.”
“No, you cunt. Not Viggo. I mean, he’s great and all, but he doesn’t do it for me. Too weird, that one.” Orlando squeezes the bridge of his nose. “Fucking head hurts. Could you get me a couple tablets?” Dom’s halfway down the hall before Orlando’s brain catches up with the conversation he and Dom just had. When Dom comes back with the tablets, Orlando gives him a sly grin. “So you fancy a bit of slap and tickle with Viggo, do you?”
Dom sticks his tongue out at Orlando. “No, you jackass. I was just saying that there are people who do. Anyway, you’re the one with the hard-on,” he says, glancing at the sheet, which is tented conspicuously over Orlando’s lap. “Thought you took care of that.”
“I was trying to, but some wanker walked in on me.”
“You had your willy in your hand, and you’re calling me a wanker?”
“Yeah, alright. Point taken. Now, will you get the fuck out of here so I can finish up? Unless you intend to do it for me.”
Dom looks cheekily at Orlando, and yanks back the sheet. Orlando doesn’t even try and stop him; he just wonders how far this will actually go. Dom’s a great joker and Orlando isn’t quite sure if the man is serious or if he’s taking the piss.
“What’s wrong Bloom? Afraid I might actually touch you?”
“Afraid? No.” Damnit, Dom, you bastard. Just do it.
“Bloom. Orlando Bloom,” Dom grins, staring at Orlando, whose face has gone slightly crimson with the realisation that his mouth had gotten away from him in his drunkenness. “Licence to thrill. Or so I hear.”
“Erm-”
“And,” Dom continues, “I reckon I can let you be my girlfriend.”
“I’m not drinking ever again. Ever.” Orlando reaches for the sheet, but Dom’s got a good grip on it. “Alright Dom. You can let go, mate. You got me. You’re funny, I’m funny, now we can go on about our lives.”
“Not until you tell me, Agent Bloom, what your mission to save England was. Perhaps you were going to shag the villains to death?”
“Fuck off, you twat. Now move so I can have a piss.” Orlando manages his way past Dom and out of the bedroom, but not before Dom can fire off a witty remark.
“If you’re going to be my girlfriend, you’ll have to clean up that mouth.” Dom is rewarded with a quick two-finger salute as Orlando leaves the bedroom.
Orlando stands in front of the toilet and stares at a chip in the paint and weighs the pros and cons of having a shower. Pro: I can wank. Con: What if I do, and Dom really does want to fuck around? Then I’m stuck looking like a twit. Fucking cunt, that Dom.
“You die in there?” Dom’s not in the bedroom; Orlando can tell. He opts for the shower and wank.
“I’m having a shower, if that’s alright,” Orlando calls, and flushes the toilet. Before he can get the water turned on in the shower, the door opens, and Dom walks in. Orlando looks at him in disbelief. “Ever hear of a thing called privacy, mate? Second time you’ve walked in when you should have knocked.”
“Sue me,” Dom says, pulling his shirt off over his head. Orlando is fixated on Dom’s left nipple. So much so, in fact, that Dom notices and pinches it between his index finger and thumb. “I’m a threat to the Crown, Agent Bloom. What do you think you can do to stop me from kidnapping the Queen?”
“For England,” Orlando states matter-of-factly, and drops to his knees in front of Dom. His hands busy themselves with a button and a zip, and Dom’s jeans are around his ankles.
When Orlando’s mouth closes around the head of Dom’s cock, Dom’s thigh twitches a bit. As Orlando’s tongue finds that spot just underneath, Dom has to lean against the tiled wall to keep himself from collapsing. With one hand, Orlando is jerking Dom off from the base of his cock to the middle where his index finger touches his top lip with every stroke, and with the other hand, he’s bringing himself off. Dom has his hands on Orlando’s shoulders, his fingertips leaving small bruises on the skin there, but Orlando doesn’t mind. He just keeps his rhythm until Dom squeezes hard and empties himself into Orlando’s mouth. The taste of Dom on his tongue sends Orlando flying over the edge, and he comes hard into his hand and onto the bit of tile showing between Dom’s spread feet. He looks up at Dom, who has his eyes closed and his mouth open, and laughs.
“Huh?” Dom’s breathing as if he’s just run ten miles.
“Mission accomplished.”
End.
