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LotRiPS fanfiction: City of Light
Title: City of Light
Author: Sárka
Pairing: Orlibean
Rating: NC-17
Feedback: Is what keeps me going.
Disclaimer: This is a work of fiction. It never happened.
Author's notes:![[livejournal.com profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/external/lj-userinfo.gif)
causette commands and I hasten to obey...
Summary: AU; Orlando is a rentboy in postwar Paris. A bit of PWP.
Sex was the only thing that worked in cases like these. Sex and large quantities of strong alcohol.
Alcohol, of course, could be acquired anywhere. Sex wasn’t as easily found – although if you were as well versed in the Parisian underground as Sean Bean it was just another commodity to be bought, though naturally at much higher costs than most other entertainment.
Not that Sean ever paid. Running the best private security company in Paris had its perks, one of them being that Sean’s expenditures had grown few and far in between. He couldn’t even remember the last time he’d had to fork over some dough for a fuck. Actually, when he stepped into the town house that was discreetly located in the middle of a residential neighbourhood, he had to admit that he couldn’t in all honesty remember the last time he’d had sex.
But then again he’d done everything in his power to forget the last time Viggo had gone off and done this to him.
The inside of the townhouse smelled of expensive cognac, cologne and tobacco smoke. It smelled like money. Sean frequented other houses like this one for just that reason: Money. There was always plenty of it around when sex was involved, and where there was plenty of money around, there was plenty of need for security.
It had been a while since he came here, though, and he watched Cate’s eyes pass over him as she dismissed him and then flicker immediately back to him when she realized who she was looking at.
Sean liked Cate. He wasn’t sure why – possibly because this was the only whorehouse in Paris that didn’t use his services and she still wouldn’t let him pay. Maybe it was because she ran her business the way he ran his; firmly believing that happy staff makes for happy customers. Or maybe he liked her because he’d been there during the war and he knew that there’d been times when her establishment harboured more fugitives from the Nazi regime than it did whores.
“Long time no see, Sean, my dear.” Cate was one of those unbelievably beautiful creatures that can’t be found anywhere but in Paris. Her complexion and her features all combined to make her look stunning and when she was wearing work clothes, dressed from top to toe in silk and organza, she was positively majestic.
“Hello Cate.” They exchanged rare genuine smiles and Cate took his arm, leading him up from the hoi polloi of the foyer and sitting room to a landing on the first floor with an excellent view over the whole of the ground floor. This was an honour reserved for important customers – the sort that can’t be expected to want to go out into the main rooms among the ordinary punters – and Sean was grateful for it.
Cate briefly surveyed her domain before she turned around to face him. “So, my dear, are you here for business or pleasure? My guess is pleasure, with that dejected slump of your shoulders.” Sean gave a brief nod and her face turned grave. They weren’t friends but Cate knew the only person who could upset him was Viggo and she had some unexplained understanding with Viggo that Sean had never managed to get to the bottom of. “What happened?” she asked softly.
“He’s taken up with a writer. Dave something-or-other. Years younger than he is, writes fantastic novels but knows nothing at all about people or relationships. One of those broody depressed chaps the war seems to have mass produced. He’s going to weigh him down like an anchor and I’ll have to go through it with him all over again.”
Cate shook her head sadly. Viggo might be an exceptionally sensitive and insightful artist, but his own heart eluded him completely and he found himself on one helter-skelter romance after another, almost without fail with broody depressed men who would unload their own burdens onto Viggo’s shoulders, burdens he wasn’t able to bear – and then desert him when he started struggling. Sean was his best friend, his confidant and his shoulder to cry on, and Sean had been forced to watch Viggo tear himself apart three times over men that probably never loved him. He wasn’t sure he’d be able to take a fourth time but he also knew that Viggo didn’t have anybody else to go to.
That was why tonight Sean just wanted to lose himself and forget all about it. If it was in the arms of a paid lover then so be it. He looked out over the smoke filled front rooms, looking for someone to spark his interest. Beside him Cate straightened her back and tried to smile. “Do you see anybody you’d like?” she asked softly, obviously fighting to keep the melancholy out of her voice, and Sean started to turn to ask her, finally, about her relationship with his half Danish friend, something he’d wanted to do for years.
And then he saw him.
He was standing in the corner of the bar room, leaning onto the piano, in the trademark white shirt and black slacks of the house and having a discussion with a gentleman in a tux that was obviously not a part of the staff. Sean stared for a few seconds until the boy seemed to sense that he was being watched and looked up. They eyes that met his were dark, framed with kohl, and Sean’s breath stuttered to a halt in his throat.
“Let me guess” Cate said, all trace of melancholy gone from her voice. “You want that one.”
Sean wasn’t sure he was capable of speech so he simply nodded and watched, his mouth dry and breathing still almost laboured as Cate sent someone for the young man who gave the punter a devastating smile before walking towards the stairs and as if he hadn’t been heart-stoppingly beautiful from afar, his beauty became more evident with every step taken in Sean’s direction.
“Sean” Cate said when the young man finally stepped onto the landing “this is Orlando. Orli, I’d like to introduce you to Sean Bean. He’s one of our regulars.” Orlando smiled and gave a small bow. “Gentlemen,” she continued “please excuse me. The blue room has been prepared; you should find some refreshments there. Goodnight.”
Orlando smiled at him and offered his arm and Sean wondered distractedly as he took it if he was ever going to breathe normally again.
The blue room was reserved for upper end customers, and as such was furnished with gorgeous antique furniture and a lavish four poster bed. There was a fire in the small hearth and champagne and strawberries set out on a small table in front of it. The setup was familiar but was made something special by Orlando, whose aptitude at his chosen profession was obviously considerable. There was no uneasy silence as the champagne was opened and poured, no rush to get the amenities over with and ‘get down to business’, no stilted small talk. Instead Orlando moved about the room with quiet efficiency, handing Sean the flute of champagne with a very deliberate ‘accidental’ touching of hands and somehow he turned silence that was normally uncomfortable into something laden with promise.
Sean sipped slowly at his champagne, content for now with just watching Orlando walk around the room, checking that everything was perfect. Finally, the younger man walked over to the table and picked up his flute of champagne, taking a big sip and sighing happily.
“I love champagne” he said softly. “I’d drink it every day if I could afford it.” He took another long sip from the flute and Sean stared, mesmerized, at his Adam’s apple bobbing up and down as he drank. When he lowered his glass there was almost nothing left in it and Sean realized with a start that Orlando was staring at him with a predatory glint in his eyes.
“I saw you come in tonight” he whispered softly as he stepped up close to Sean and plucked the champagne flute from his unresisting fingers, laying both glasses softly down on the table. “I was hoping you’d see me and ask for me” he whispered as he wound his hands into Sean’s hair and pulled him into a kiss.
The first touch of soft lips on his mouth had him achingly hard, struggling to catch his breath in a room that felt like it’d been emptied of air. He was in trouble, he realized even as he opened his mouth to deepen the kiss. If Orlando kissed like this, Sean couldn’t even begin to imagine what the sex was going to be like.
As if his thoughts were being read, Sean felt a hand on his waist, sliding lower beneath the waistband of his trousers, cupping his erection through the soft fabric of his underpants. Sparks shot across his vision and he had to fight not to whimper into Orlando’s talented mouth as the Orlando started moving his hand agonizingly slowly, creating only enough friction to drive him insane.
“Take me to bed?” Orlando whispered against his mouth and Sean didn’t need to be asked twice.
It took a while to get rid of their clothing and several buttons went flying through the air when Orlando finally lost his patience with Sean’s shirt, tearing it apart and off his shoulders, his mouth tracing a blazing trail from his collarbone and down to Sean’s navel.
As beautiful as Orlando had been when Sean saw him in the downstairs parlour leaning onto the piano and chatting up customers, Orlando wearing nothing but smudged kohl around his eyes and a fine sheen of sweat was a sight to behold. He’s slender without being thin, all sinews and muscle and deep gold skin, and while Sean wanted to, longed to touch, a part of him just wanted to sit back and stare.
Orlando was having none of that, his mouth following the trail of hair down to his erection while he pulled Sean’s slacks and socks off, hands tracing patterns on Sean’s thighs and hips, and Sean moaned as that wicked tongue softly lapped at the head of his cock. Orlando paused, lips still on Sean’s cock, looking up through lowered lashes. “What do you want?” he whispered, warm breath ghosting over his erection, lips moving slowly over the sensitive skin.
“Ohgod” Sean whispered, overwhelmed by the sensations that Orlando’s skilled fingers and mouth were producing.
“Do you want me, baby?” the boy whispered. “I’m all yours.” He moved slowly up Sean’s body, stroking and licking and kissing as he went and Sean couldn’t remember the last time he’d been this aroused, if ever. He felt Orlando reach beneath the pillow and saw the bottle of lube out of the corner of his eye and then Orlando raised himself up onto his knees above him, pouring some of the golden oil into his hand and reached down to prepare himself. It was so gorgeously sinful that Sean feared that he might come from the sight alone – and then Orlando looked up, dark brown eyes glazed over with lust and Sean thought that either he must be thoroughly enjoying himself or else he was an incredible actor.
And then Orlando grasped Sean’s cock and angled it upwards, lowering himself slowly onto Sean’s dick, and Sean’s breath tore out of his body in ragged gulps. He was awash in a torrent of sensation, his hands grasping Orlando’s waist hard enough to leave bruises. Sean felt like he was on fire, flames licking up his body, centring in his balls and his groin, and with every slow grind of Orlando’s onto his cock the heat only got more and more intense and incredible. Sean was sure he was going to come at the next grind, and then the next and then the next, but it wasn’t until he looked up, at Orlando, who was raising himself up off Sean and then grinding down almost wantonly that he came, hard and with a scream that must’ve been heard throughout the house.
Author: Sárka
Pairing: Orlibean
Rating: NC-17
Feedback: Is what keeps me going.
Disclaimer: This is a work of fiction. It never happened.
Author's notes:
causette commands and I hasten to obey... Summary: AU; Orlando is a rentboy in postwar Paris. A bit of PWP.
Sex was the only thing that worked in cases like these. Sex and large quantities of strong alcohol.
Alcohol, of course, could be acquired anywhere. Sex wasn’t as easily found – although if you were as well versed in the Parisian underground as Sean Bean it was just another commodity to be bought, though naturally at much higher costs than most other entertainment.
Not that Sean ever paid. Running the best private security company in Paris had its perks, one of them being that Sean’s expenditures had grown few and far in between. He couldn’t even remember the last time he’d had to fork over some dough for a fuck. Actually, when he stepped into the town house that was discreetly located in the middle of a residential neighbourhood, he had to admit that he couldn’t in all honesty remember the last time he’d had sex.
But then again he’d done everything in his power to forget the last time Viggo had gone off and done this to him.
The inside of the townhouse smelled of expensive cognac, cologne and tobacco smoke. It smelled like money. Sean frequented other houses like this one for just that reason: Money. There was always plenty of it around when sex was involved, and where there was plenty of money around, there was plenty of need for security.
It had been a while since he came here, though, and he watched Cate’s eyes pass over him as she dismissed him and then flicker immediately back to him when she realized who she was looking at.
Sean liked Cate. He wasn’t sure why – possibly because this was the only whorehouse in Paris that didn’t use his services and she still wouldn’t let him pay. Maybe it was because she ran her business the way he ran his; firmly believing that happy staff makes for happy customers. Or maybe he liked her because he’d been there during the war and he knew that there’d been times when her establishment harboured more fugitives from the Nazi regime than it did whores.
“Long time no see, Sean, my dear.” Cate was one of those unbelievably beautiful creatures that can’t be found anywhere but in Paris. Her complexion and her features all combined to make her look stunning and when she was wearing work clothes, dressed from top to toe in silk and organza, she was positively majestic.
“Hello Cate.” They exchanged rare genuine smiles and Cate took his arm, leading him up from the hoi polloi of the foyer and sitting room to a landing on the first floor with an excellent view over the whole of the ground floor. This was an honour reserved for important customers – the sort that can’t be expected to want to go out into the main rooms among the ordinary punters – and Sean was grateful for it.
Cate briefly surveyed her domain before she turned around to face him. “So, my dear, are you here for business or pleasure? My guess is pleasure, with that dejected slump of your shoulders.” Sean gave a brief nod and her face turned grave. They weren’t friends but Cate knew the only person who could upset him was Viggo and she had some unexplained understanding with Viggo that Sean had never managed to get to the bottom of. “What happened?” she asked softly.
“He’s taken up with a writer. Dave something-or-other. Years younger than he is, writes fantastic novels but knows nothing at all about people or relationships. One of those broody depressed chaps the war seems to have mass produced. He’s going to weigh him down like an anchor and I’ll have to go through it with him all over again.”
Cate shook her head sadly. Viggo might be an exceptionally sensitive and insightful artist, but his own heart eluded him completely and he found himself on one helter-skelter romance after another, almost without fail with broody depressed men who would unload their own burdens onto Viggo’s shoulders, burdens he wasn’t able to bear – and then desert him when he started struggling. Sean was his best friend, his confidant and his shoulder to cry on, and Sean had been forced to watch Viggo tear himself apart three times over men that probably never loved him. He wasn’t sure he’d be able to take a fourth time but he also knew that Viggo didn’t have anybody else to go to.
That was why tonight Sean just wanted to lose himself and forget all about it. If it was in the arms of a paid lover then so be it. He looked out over the smoke filled front rooms, looking for someone to spark his interest. Beside him Cate straightened her back and tried to smile. “Do you see anybody you’d like?” she asked softly, obviously fighting to keep the melancholy out of her voice, and Sean started to turn to ask her, finally, about her relationship with his half Danish friend, something he’d wanted to do for years.
And then he saw him.
He was standing in the corner of the bar room, leaning onto the piano, in the trademark white shirt and black slacks of the house and having a discussion with a gentleman in a tux that was obviously not a part of the staff. Sean stared for a few seconds until the boy seemed to sense that he was being watched and looked up. They eyes that met his were dark, framed with kohl, and Sean’s breath stuttered to a halt in his throat.
“Let me guess” Cate said, all trace of melancholy gone from her voice. “You want that one.”
Sean wasn’t sure he was capable of speech so he simply nodded and watched, his mouth dry and breathing still almost laboured as Cate sent someone for the young man who gave the punter a devastating smile before walking towards the stairs and as if he hadn’t been heart-stoppingly beautiful from afar, his beauty became more evident with every step taken in Sean’s direction.
“Sean” Cate said when the young man finally stepped onto the landing “this is Orlando. Orli, I’d like to introduce you to Sean Bean. He’s one of our regulars.” Orlando smiled and gave a small bow. “Gentlemen,” she continued “please excuse me. The blue room has been prepared; you should find some refreshments there. Goodnight.”
Orlando smiled at him and offered his arm and Sean wondered distractedly as he took it if he was ever going to breathe normally again.
The blue room was reserved for upper end customers, and as such was furnished with gorgeous antique furniture and a lavish four poster bed. There was a fire in the small hearth and champagne and strawberries set out on a small table in front of it. The setup was familiar but was made something special by Orlando, whose aptitude at his chosen profession was obviously considerable. There was no uneasy silence as the champagne was opened and poured, no rush to get the amenities over with and ‘get down to business’, no stilted small talk. Instead Orlando moved about the room with quiet efficiency, handing Sean the flute of champagne with a very deliberate ‘accidental’ touching of hands and somehow he turned silence that was normally uncomfortable into something laden with promise.
Sean sipped slowly at his champagne, content for now with just watching Orlando walk around the room, checking that everything was perfect. Finally, the younger man walked over to the table and picked up his flute of champagne, taking a big sip and sighing happily.
“I love champagne” he said softly. “I’d drink it every day if I could afford it.” He took another long sip from the flute and Sean stared, mesmerized, at his Adam’s apple bobbing up and down as he drank. When he lowered his glass there was almost nothing left in it and Sean realized with a start that Orlando was staring at him with a predatory glint in his eyes.
“I saw you come in tonight” he whispered softly as he stepped up close to Sean and plucked the champagne flute from his unresisting fingers, laying both glasses softly down on the table. “I was hoping you’d see me and ask for me” he whispered as he wound his hands into Sean’s hair and pulled him into a kiss.
The first touch of soft lips on his mouth had him achingly hard, struggling to catch his breath in a room that felt like it’d been emptied of air. He was in trouble, he realized even as he opened his mouth to deepen the kiss. If Orlando kissed like this, Sean couldn’t even begin to imagine what the sex was going to be like.
As if his thoughts were being read, Sean felt a hand on his waist, sliding lower beneath the waistband of his trousers, cupping his erection through the soft fabric of his underpants. Sparks shot across his vision and he had to fight not to whimper into Orlando’s talented mouth as the Orlando started moving his hand agonizingly slowly, creating only enough friction to drive him insane.
“Take me to bed?” Orlando whispered against his mouth and Sean didn’t need to be asked twice.
It took a while to get rid of their clothing and several buttons went flying through the air when Orlando finally lost his patience with Sean’s shirt, tearing it apart and off his shoulders, his mouth tracing a blazing trail from his collarbone and down to Sean’s navel.
As beautiful as Orlando had been when Sean saw him in the downstairs parlour leaning onto the piano and chatting up customers, Orlando wearing nothing but smudged kohl around his eyes and a fine sheen of sweat was a sight to behold. He’s slender without being thin, all sinews and muscle and deep gold skin, and while Sean wanted to, longed to touch, a part of him just wanted to sit back and stare.
Orlando was having none of that, his mouth following the trail of hair down to his erection while he pulled Sean’s slacks and socks off, hands tracing patterns on Sean’s thighs and hips, and Sean moaned as that wicked tongue softly lapped at the head of his cock. Orlando paused, lips still on Sean’s cock, looking up through lowered lashes. “What do you want?” he whispered, warm breath ghosting over his erection, lips moving slowly over the sensitive skin.
“Ohgod” Sean whispered, overwhelmed by the sensations that Orlando’s skilled fingers and mouth were producing.
“Do you want me, baby?” the boy whispered. “I’m all yours.” He moved slowly up Sean’s body, stroking and licking and kissing as he went and Sean couldn’t remember the last time he’d been this aroused, if ever. He felt Orlando reach beneath the pillow and saw the bottle of lube out of the corner of his eye and then Orlando raised himself up onto his knees above him, pouring some of the golden oil into his hand and reached down to prepare himself. It was so gorgeously sinful that Sean feared that he might come from the sight alone – and then Orlando looked up, dark brown eyes glazed over with lust and Sean thought that either he must be thoroughly enjoying himself or else he was an incredible actor.
And then Orlando grasped Sean’s cock and angled it upwards, lowering himself slowly onto Sean’s dick, and Sean’s breath tore out of his body in ragged gulps. He was awash in a torrent of sensation, his hands grasping Orlando’s waist hard enough to leave bruises. Sean felt like he was on fire, flames licking up his body, centring in his balls and his groin, and with every slow grind of Orlando’s onto his cock the heat only got more and more intense and incredible. Sean was sure he was going to come at the next grind, and then the next and then the next, but it wasn’t until he looked up, at Orlando, who was raising himself up off Sean and then grinding down almost wantonly that he came, hard and with a scream that must’ve been heard throughout the house.
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