*For everyone else who thinks I hate Sean. On the contrary!
*A/N: This was inspired by some pictures I saw of a photo shoot in Japan. To me, Orlando and Sean looked like they'd just been interrupted from something! For the purposes of this story, I've created my own timeline and included Viggo, whom I don't think was there at the time. Pictures are included at the end of this story.
"Hey, Sean!"
He looked up as he shut his door behind him. Orlando was jogging down the hallway, still wearing the jeans and pale yellow shirt he'd had on during the group interview. He grinned at Sean as he approached.
"The Hobbits are having a little party in Elijah's room. Come along and join us."
Sean could already picture the scene in his head: some combination of Lij, Dom and Billy--maybe all three--draped over each other on the hotel sofa, half-drunk and calling for porn on the pay-per-view movie channel.
"No, thanks, Orlando," he said with a small laugh. "I don't think I can keep up with you boys."
Orlando's smile flickered for just an instant. Or had he imagined it? Regardless, it was gone as if it'd never happened. Orlando slapped a hand on Sean's shoulder. "Oh, come on, old man. Let us liven you up a bit. Don't tell me you're turning into one of those stodgy relics on the theatre channel already?"
Sean had no idea what he was referring to, but assumed it must be bad. "Orlando, drinking until I throw up ceased being fun about twenty-odd years ago. Thanks, but no thanks."
Orlando shrugged. "You're missing out, old man." He turned and jogged back up the hallway. "I'll give the Hobbits your regards," he called back cheerfully.
Sean watched him go, trying to remember the last time he had jogged anywhere when it wasn't required for his job. He shook his head. Orlando and the others could make him feel so bloody old sometimes. No wonder he and Viggo tended to stick together during these group excursions. They were the only ones who would listen to each other's boring stories of old-age infirmities.
He rode the lift down to the second floor where the hotel's fine dining restaurant was located. He'd eaten dinner before the interview, but the restaurant housed a large, rather stunning bar that he and Viggo had discovered their first night here in Japan. Sean could use a drink right about now.
Viggo was already at there, perched atop a blue velvet barstool and leaning both forearms on the shiny cherry wood bar. Sean smiled slightly at the cocktail sitting before his friend.
"Martini's already?" he teased, taking the next stool over. He ordered a screwdriver for himself, not ready to get into the hard stuff just yet.
Viggo shrugged. "I've got a headache. I figured this would either blow my head off, or make
me pass out. Either alternative is acceptable."
"You really hate these things, don't you?" Sean said, sipping his drink and sighing contentedly. "One would think you'd find a different line of work. Say...an artist?"
Viggo rolled his eyes. "It's not that I hate them. Opening night of an exhibit is the same thing, really. It's just that it's so tedious. *You* know. There are only so many ways to answer the same question until you just want to shoot yourself."
Sean chuckled. "I agree with you there." Conversationally, he added, "The young ones seem to be taking it all in stride, though. I'm particularly proud of Orlando. He was very good today."
Viggo eyed him, his expression guarded. "Uh huh."
"For someone who's so new to all of this, he handles himself rather well, don't you think?" Something in the way Viggo was looking at him made Sean start to babble. "I remember when *I* went on my first junket. I put my foot in my mouth with every other word. At least he seems to have a bit more sense, though he does tend to rattle on."
"I see you've taken some notice," Viggo commented dryly. "Slept with him yet?"
Sean choked on his cocktail. He set it down and wiped at his mouth with the napkin. "That wasn't funny."
Viggo raised his martini glass to his lips and took a leisurely sip. He lowered it and didn't say anything.
Sean stared at him, more than a little annoyed and wondering why he should be. An argument was on his lips--something along the lines of he didn't sleep with his castmates and Orlando was too young and all that blather--but decided Viggo's comment didn't deserve the respect of a reply. He ignored Viggo's smirk and calmly drank his screwdriver.
"Speak of the devil," Viggo murmured.
Sean felt a presence at his back. He turned and found Orlando standing somewhat nervously beside his stool.
"What happened to your party with the Hobbits?" he asked in surprise.
Orlando's grin wasn't the mega-wattage it usually was. "You know how it is, Sean. I'm with them all the time. I thought it would be nice to hang out with you for a change." He shifted. "That is, if it's all right?"
Viggo muttered something beneath his breath and laughed to himself. Sean looked askance at him, wondering if his friend was more drunk than he appeared. "You should know you don't need to ask, Orlando," he said, motioning to the stool beside him. "We'd love to have your company."
Relief made Orlando glow as he climbed onto the stool. Sean took a moment to admire him before asking what he was having. "I'll take whatever you've got there," Orlando replied, waving at Sean's drink. "I trust your taste."
Oddly flattered, Sean ordered another screwdriver. He looked back at Viggo and found that the man was hunched over his drink as if prepared to defend off all comers. Not in the mood to chat, it seemed. Sighing, Sean turned back to Orlando who had taken his first sip of the drink. The young man smiled with delight. "Mmm. Good. Just what I wanted."
Sean shifted on his seat, surprised and a little unnerved by the unexpected tightening in his body at the way Orlando said that. "You were very entertaining at the interview today," he said, stirring his drink. "I loved your comment about wanting to be Viggo."
Orlando darted a look over Sean's shoulder, but Viggo was apparently still engrossed in his drink. "Yeah, I thought it was funny. Or rather, I thought *they* would think it funny."
"Is it true?" Sean asked idly, wondering at his need to know.
"That I want to be Viggo?" Orlando smiled slightly. "I wouldn't mind it, but no, I enjoy being me. Most times, at least."
"Why not all the time?"
Orlando's eyes turned strangely dark as he looked at Sean. "Sometimes, I wouldn't mind being older. I think perhaps not everyone takes me as seriously as I would like. Some people think I don't know what I want simply because I'm young. Well, I *am* young. But I'm not naive."
Sean studied him thoughtfully. If Orlando had an issue with people thinking him too young, Sean could see why. Orlando looked like he was barely out of his teens. And he acted like...well, he acted like he was enjoying himself all the time, regardless of the place or situation. Which could easily be interpreted as immaturity.
"If it's any consolation, not only do I think you're exceptionally mature, I also think you should be happy with who you are," Sean told him. "I envy you more often than you think. I would give a lot to be your age sometimes."
"What a shame that would be," Orlando said enigmatically.
Sean looked at him, curious. "What do you mean?"
"Just look at you." Orlando waved at Sean's expensive, finely cut suit and tie. "You're the epitomy of class. Only someone your age could carry that off with such--such style. I know people laugh at me sometimes for how I dress or how I act, but they never laugh at you, Sean. You know things. You're experienced. You're worldy. Hell, as Elijah would say, you're a stud, Sean."
Orlando laughed as he said the last, but Sean wondered how much of it was a joke and how much was intended to be taken to heart. Although it was a wonderful luxury, Sean tried not to allow himself too much denial. Life seemed to run a lot smoother when he accepted things, pleasant or not. To his surprise, something about this conversation with Orlando was moving into that territory.
Something about his expression must have unnerved Orlando for he abruptly stood. "I need to use the restroom." Sean watched him go, amazed to find his gaze lingering where it shouldn't. Namely, Orlando's buttocks.
"You're checking him out like a lust-crazed fan," Viggo teased beside him. "Why don't you just admit you want him and have a good time with him?"
Sean glared at him. "Is it just me, or is Orlando nearly half my age?"
Viggo shook his head. "I don't get it. I thought you just had a conversation with him about age not mattering? He wants you, so what's the problem?"
The problem was that just because *Viggo* thought Orlando was interested, didn't mean the young man actually was. And if Sean made a move and he was wrong...He didn't even want to think about the response to that.
He sighed tiredly and stared down into his drink. "Orlando's a kid. He doesn't know what he wants. If he shows me any interest, it's more than likely just hero-worship."
"You're friggin' blind," Viggo grumbled. He munched thoughtfully on his olive. "What would it take to convince you he's interested?"
That was easy. "Proof."
"Huh," Viggo grunted irritably. "Proof. Well, how about this for proof: When he comes back, casually put your hand on his knee. See if he pulls away. I bet he won't. And then you'll know."
"Oh, that's subtle," Sean scoffed, frightened with the fact that he was actually considering it. "Why don't I just ask him if he'd like to shag on the bar and cut to the chase?"
"That's your other option," Viggo agreed.
Sean bit back a retort. Orlando came back to the bar. If he noticed the sudden tension, he didn't let on. Sean played with his cocktail stirrer, afraid to look at Orlando, afraid that if he didn't, he would be too obvious. Viggo wasn't watching him, but the other man's presence was goading Sean to do something. Ah, hell. He'd done worse things in his life.
"Don't forget we've got that photo shoot tomorrow," he said, turning and laying his hand lightly atop Orlando's knee. He smiled, trying to pretend that such casual contact was something he did every day. "Bright and early."
Orlando sat as though balanced on a knife. "Yes, for "Roadshow", right?" His fingers looked pale against the orange brightness of his drink. He wasn't looking at Sean. He was looking at Sean's hand. "I won't forget. I've got a wake-up call set for me."
"That's good," Sean said softly. The tension slowly bled from his body as his hand was allowed to remain on Orlando's knee. A small, secretive smile curved his lips before swiftly disappearing. "Should be a fun shoot. Just the two of us."
He pulled his hand back, just to see what Orlando would do. Sean had to give him credit. Orlando looked unruffled. Only the slight exhalation of breath as if he'd been holding it, gave him away.
Sean may have been all the things Orlando thought him to be--classy, worldy, whatever--but there was one thing he was not: a prude. He tilted his head back and swallowed the last of his drink. When he straightend, Orlando was looking at him. Everything Viggo had said was there for Sean to read.
"Finish that up and we'll continue this conversation upstairs," he said easily, pulling out some bills and tossing them onto the bar.
From the corner of his eye he saw Orlando freeze with shock. Sean turned to Viggo and patted his friend on the shoulder. "Sorry to abandon you, Vig, but I'm calling it a night."
Viggo lifted his head. Amusement lit his eyes. "Yes, you do that, Sean. Get some sleep...or something."
Sean sent him a warning look then turned for Orlando. The younger man stood and set his empty glass onto the bar. "I'm ready," he announced with only the slightest of quavers in his voice. He looked so endearingly young. Sean must be losing his mind.
"Lead the way," he said, feeling nervous in a way he had not in a long time. "You know where my room is, Orli."
Normally very good at small talk, Sean couldn't think of a single thing to say as he and Orlando rode the lift. Time and again, his eyes drifted to the reflection of his companion in the mirrored walls. Orlando's eyes never left him.
Sean let them into his room. He moved to the minibar and grabbed a couple of bottles of vodka and a small carton of orange juice. Orlando didn't sit on the sofa like he'd expected. He stood on the other side of the bar, watching Sean make their drinks.
"Please tell me you're not playing with me."
Sean looked up, spilling some of the orange juice. He wiped it up carefully, using the time to compose his thoughts.
"What do you mean?" he asked.
"We could have stayed at the bar. With Viggo." Orlando ignored the glass Sean set before him. "Why did you invite me up here?"
Sean chalked it up to youth. He would never be that bold. "Why do you think I did?" he returned calmly.
A flash of irritation widened Orlando's eyes. Not for the first time, Sean noticed how lovely those brown eyes were. So expressive. They revealed everything Orlando was feeeling. Right now they were bright with frustration.
"I admit I don't have your experience," Orlando said tightly, his eyes lighting on the drink, Sean's face, back to the drink again. "But I'm also old enough to know what I want without dancing about the issue."
"And that is where you prove your youth," Sean said. He took a hefty swallow of his drink and set it down. "You don't have the patience, Orlando, to wait for things to come to you. That can be a bad thing."
"It can also be good," Orlando murmured. "Because I'll get what I want. Faster."
Sean smiled. "You think fast is good? You really are young." He dipped a finger into his drink and touched the moistened tip to Orlando's lip. "I think you need an older man to show you how good going slow can be. You may never go back."
Orlando shuddered, his lashes lowering half-way as Sean painted his lips in moisture. "I hope I won't want to," he replied.
*********************
Sean bent his head and kissed the damp curls that gathered at the nape of Orlando's neck. Orlando mumbled softly, incoherently, and turned his head on the pillow. His dark lashes lifted slightly, as though they were too heavy to lift all the way.
"Sean," he breathed.
The sigh of his name, spoken with a mixture of exhaustion and pleasure, could still fire his blood. Sean kissed the crest of one rosy cheekbone, tasting the sweat that glistened there.
"How are you doing?" he murmured against the soft skin.
Orlando shivered against him, the lashes lowering once more. "I take back everything. My energy is no match for your experience."
Sean smiled and ran his hand down the curve of spine, letting his fingers drift to the cleft between Orlando's buttocks. "I wouldn't say that. You've kept up with me so far." His fingers teased the sensitive crease. "Think you can manage one more time?"
Orlando groaned, but his hips pushed backwards, betraying him. "I take it that means yes," Sean said, amused.
"Don't tease," Orlando sighed, sliding his long legs against the rumpled sheets as though hungry for sensation. It was something Sean had discovered with much delight about Orlando. The young man was a hedonist in every sense of the word. Every touch, every sensation excited him. His excitement, in turn, stoked Sean's.
He placed delicate kisses across the top of Orlando's shoulders, savoring the firm, smooth skin. As he kissed and licked, his fingers slid between Orlando's buttocks and gently circled the opening he had become very familiar with over the course of the last few hours. Again, Orlando shivered at the intimate touch, pressing his hips against Sean's hand.
"Do it," Orlando whispered in a thick voice, pushing back rhythmically.
"Impatient minx. You never learn, do you?" Sean chided, but he knew the time for teasing was over. He pushed his hands through the sheets until he found the discarded tube of lubrication. Coating his hand, he rolled back against Orlando, pulling the slender form into the cup of his body.
He stroked himself first, making sure he was sufficiently prepared, then touched Orlando again, slipping a finger inside. Finding Orlando's sweet spot was easy. The young man always bucked a little, fingers clenching whitely on whatever was at hand. In this case, the sheets beneath him.
"Would you like another?" Sean asked softly.
Orlando nodded mutely, his body trembling. He moaned as Sean inserted a second finger, then eased in a third. Orlando twisted against him, hot and sweaty, his body exhausted from all that had been demanded of him, but yearning for more. Thank God for youth, Sean thought to himself. He tapped the source of Orlando's pleasure over and around, plunging his fingers into the slowly relaxing passage.
"Stop it already!" Orlando gasped, throwing his head back. "I need you in me, Sean."
Unwilling to argue, Sean replaced his fingers with the head of his erection. He curled an arm around Orlando's taut body and grasped the straining flesh curved against the younger man's stomach. He stroked it firmly as he slowly pushed himself inside.
Orlando was still tight and Sean relished the sensation of being squeezed. He pushed all the way in, until his hips were flush to Orlando's buttocks. Then he pulled back and began a slow rhythm.
Orlando moaned constantly as Sean moved in him. The dark head fell back against Sean's shoulder and he took the opportunity to taste the gasping lips, the vodka and orange juice that lingered in the recesses of Orlando's mouth. Sean swallowed the cries Orlando made as he stroked the younger man's erection. His body cradled the slender one that shook against him.
Not for the first time tonight, Sean couldn't believe how incredibly potent he felt. Everything he did to Orlando seemed to be the right thing. Or maybe it was simply that Orlando enjoyed everything. It didn't matter. Sean was becoming addicted to Orlando's responses. He needed more.
He picked up the pace of his thrusts, pushing Orlando's body into his hand. He bit down lightly on a sleekly muscled shoulder and smiled at Orlando's growl of pleasure.
"You're incredible," he panted against Orlando's skin. "I could do this all night, all day--hell, all week."
"Who says we're not going to?" Orlando retorted. But even his youthful body had it's limits. Sean felt the gathering of Orlando's energy within his palm, felt the young man stiffen. Sean pumped into the tight heat with renewed vigor, determined to time their releases. Pleasure darkened his vision, his mouth opened in a silent gasp. He thrust faster, burying himself as deep as he could in Orlando's body and felt himself explode one more impossible time. He held himself deep inside, filling Orlando with his seed. With a choked cry, Orlando pulsed within Sean's hand. Warmth coated his fingers.
Boneless, Orlando slumped back against him. Sean was still inside him. He didn't think he would ever pull out.
"If we keep doing this," Orlando murmured sleepily, "we'll be a mess for the photo shoot. It's only a few hours away, you know."
Sean kissed his temple fondly. "There's one thing you learn when you get to be my age, Orlando. It's that you don't give a rat's arse anymore about other peoples' schedules."
Orlando threw him a mischievous grin. "Good. Then we have just enough time for a couple more rounds, eh, old man?"
Orlando would be good at his word, too. They would barely have time to throw on some clothes before the magazine crew was knocking on Sean's door. Later, Sean would look at the photos taken from that shoot and shake his head. That no one else had guessed what they'd been doing just moments before was beyond his comprehension. They were his favorite photos exactly for that reason.
The End
