First two
I am such a slooooooooooow writer, so two ficlets is actually pretty good going for me *g*
Time is such an interesting concept.
The fact that things could go in a completely different direction if a person was five minutes late for an appointment, or five minutes early.
You’ve seen ‘Sliding Doors’, you always thought it was an interesting idea , but Gwyneth’s faux-English accent was about as fun to listen to as fingernails scraping down a blackboard.
The concept of that film though, yeah, that’s something you wonder about a lot. Especially now.
You wonder how different things would be if you’d lingered at breakfast a little longer that day, if you hadn’t gone back to your room just in time to see him flicking through the well-worn pages of your hard-covered notebook.
You think if you’d been a little later, that maybe you wouldn’t have felt that knot forming in your stomach. That the nausea that followed wouldn’t have surfaced, either. And you certainly wouldn’t have stood there and screamed at him about how it was *your* property and he didn’t have the right to touch it.
You wouldn’t have gritted your teeth and spat out at him that he’d violated your privacy and you’d never trust him again. And he wouldn’t have looked at you, confused and hurt as he whispered, “Who’s Freddy?”
If you’d been a little later, maybe you wouldn’t have had to watch JC’s heart breaking, either.
for
crownzeal
Set after Such Sweet Bliss
JC hates parties. Well, okay, that’s not exactly true. He likes hanging out with his friends, clubbing and drinking and drugging and having fun.
He hates *industry* parties.
Industry parties are always full of leeches. Vultures, who JC thinks would spit at him on the street if he wasn’t famous, if they didn’t think he could do something for them. He doesn’t usually try to pick anyone up at things like this for that very reason.
Too many people chattering like demented monkeys and he needs to get away, the air’s thick with money and ulterior motives and he can feel it starting to choke him. He heads out for the balcony, grabbing a fresh glass of Cristal on the way. It’s better outside, dark and cool and no-one around.
He sparks up a joint and takes a long hit, rolling the smoke around his lungs before tipping his head back, exhaling. He takes a sip of the champagne and lets the bubbles dissolve on his tongue, sweet and effervescent. He thinks about the waiter who handed him his glass, he was pretty hot with his big brown eyes and his perfect hands and he wonders whether *he* might be a decent proposition for the night. Though he’s probably some actor desperate to get his foot in the door, and JC just can’t be bothered with that sort of shit. Not now.
He takes another hit. “Fucking actors,” he mutters.
“Is that on offer?” Smooth, English voice and he looks up.
“Oh man, I’m sorry, I…” JC berates himself. His timing always did suck and here he is bitching out actors when Orlando fucking Bloom just happens to be there.
Orlando laughs. “Don’t worry about it, mate. I hate these parties too.” He gestures to the joint in JC’s hand. “Uh… may I?”
JC hands it to him and just stares. Jesus, but he’s pretty. No, not pretty, fucking *beautiful*.
Orlando takes a long drag and pauses before exhaling. JC hopes Orlando doesn’t notice him staring, because that mouth… God. JC sees it flash before his eyes; Orlando on his knees, pretty, perfect mouth around JC’s cock as JC sinks fists into his hair and fucks his mouth. And okay, that was a mistake, ‘cause now he’s really fucking hard.
Orlando smirks and takes another hit before handing the joint back to JC. “Y’know, I have to get out of the habit of doing this.”
JC blinks. “What? Smoking pot?”
Orlando’s laugh is high, bell-like and infectious. “No way, man. Me give up pot? Fat chance.” He pauses and moves closer, so close that JC swears he can feel warm breath on his skin. “What I have to get out of the habit of is doing drugs with pretty NSYNC boys at dull parties. It just always seems to get me into trouble. It’ll be Justin next I suppose.” Orlando is so close now that JC thinks if he tilts his head just right, he… no. He breathes in, trying to regain at least a sliver of composure.
“You’ve met one of my friends?” JC manages.
“Lance.” And the way Orlando says Lance’s name is kinda filthy; vowels all drawn out like he’s moaning. JC’s really fucking stoned now; he can feel his blood bubbling like the champagne he quickly finishes to try and relieve some of the dryness in his throat.
He shivers as Orlando starts trailing fingers up and down his arm, slowly. JC can feel the fine hairs raising on his arm and he whimpers a little. “You’ve… you’ve met Lance?”
Orlando drops his hand to JC’s waistband and inches two fingers inside as he licks JC’s neck. “I met him in New York. We got high and I fucked him for hours and hours. He has the best mouth I ever… well, I guess you know that.” He smirks, “Like I said, meeting you boys always seems to get me into trouble.”
Orlando’s lips are warm and wet and JC moans into the kiss as Orlando’s hands fall to his hips, grinding his own hips against JC’s.
“Oh yeah.” Orlando breathes out, “You’re just fucking perfect, aren’t you?”
JC whimpers as Orlando unzips him and gets his hand around his cock and strokes him hard and fast and perfect. JC comes all too quickly, just like a fucking teenager, with Orlando’s lips on his ear, whispering the dirtiest things to him.
forsaturn92103
Time is such an interesting concept.
The fact that things could go in a completely different direction if a person was five minutes late for an appointment, or five minutes early.
You’ve seen ‘Sliding Doors’, you always thought it was an interesting idea , but Gwyneth’s faux-English accent was about as fun to listen to as fingernails scraping down a blackboard.
The concept of that film though, yeah, that’s something you wonder about a lot. Especially now.
You wonder how different things would be if you’d lingered at breakfast a little longer that day, if you hadn’t gone back to your room just in time to see him flicking through the well-worn pages of your hard-covered notebook.
You think if you’d been a little later, that maybe you wouldn’t have felt that knot forming in your stomach. That the nausea that followed wouldn’t have surfaced, either. And you certainly wouldn’t have stood there and screamed at him about how it was *your* property and he didn’t have the right to touch it.
You wouldn’t have gritted your teeth and spat out at him that he’d violated your privacy and you’d never trust him again. And he wouldn’t have looked at you, confused and hurt as he whispered, “Who’s Freddy?”
If you’d been a little later, maybe you wouldn’t have had to watch JC’s heart breaking, either.
for
crownzealSet after Such Sweet Bliss
JC hates parties. Well, okay, that’s not exactly true. He likes hanging out with his friends, clubbing and drinking and drugging and having fun.
He hates *industry* parties.
Industry parties are always full of leeches. Vultures, who JC thinks would spit at him on the street if he wasn’t famous, if they didn’t think he could do something for them. He doesn’t usually try to pick anyone up at things like this for that very reason.
Too many people chattering like demented monkeys and he needs to get away, the air’s thick with money and ulterior motives and he can feel it starting to choke him. He heads out for the balcony, grabbing a fresh glass of Cristal on the way. It’s better outside, dark and cool and no-one around.
He sparks up a joint and takes a long hit, rolling the smoke around his lungs before tipping his head back, exhaling. He takes a sip of the champagne and lets the bubbles dissolve on his tongue, sweet and effervescent. He thinks about the waiter who handed him his glass, he was pretty hot with his big brown eyes and his perfect hands and he wonders whether *he* might be a decent proposition for the night. Though he’s probably some actor desperate to get his foot in the door, and JC just can’t be bothered with that sort of shit. Not now.
He takes another hit. “Fucking actors,” he mutters.
“Is that on offer?” Smooth, English voice and he looks up.
“Oh man, I’m sorry, I…” JC berates himself. His timing always did suck and here he is bitching out actors when Orlando fucking Bloom just happens to be there.
Orlando laughs. “Don’t worry about it, mate. I hate these parties too.” He gestures to the joint in JC’s hand. “Uh… may I?”
JC hands it to him and just stares. Jesus, but he’s pretty. No, not pretty, fucking *beautiful*.
Orlando takes a long drag and pauses before exhaling. JC hopes Orlando doesn’t notice him staring, because that mouth… God. JC sees it flash before his eyes; Orlando on his knees, pretty, perfect mouth around JC’s cock as JC sinks fists into his hair and fucks his mouth. And okay, that was a mistake, ‘cause now he’s really fucking hard.
Orlando smirks and takes another hit before handing the joint back to JC. “Y’know, I have to get out of the habit of doing this.”
JC blinks. “What? Smoking pot?”
Orlando’s laugh is high, bell-like and infectious. “No way, man. Me give up pot? Fat chance.” He pauses and moves closer, so close that JC swears he can feel warm breath on his skin. “What I have to get out of the habit of is doing drugs with pretty NSYNC boys at dull parties. It just always seems to get me into trouble. It’ll be Justin next I suppose.” Orlando is so close now that JC thinks if he tilts his head just right, he… no. He breathes in, trying to regain at least a sliver of composure.
“You’ve met one of my friends?” JC manages.
“Lance.” And the way Orlando says Lance’s name is kinda filthy; vowels all drawn out like he’s moaning. JC’s really fucking stoned now; he can feel his blood bubbling like the champagne he quickly finishes to try and relieve some of the dryness in his throat.
He shivers as Orlando starts trailing fingers up and down his arm, slowly. JC can feel the fine hairs raising on his arm and he whimpers a little. “You’ve… you’ve met Lance?”
Orlando drops his hand to JC’s waistband and inches two fingers inside as he licks JC’s neck. “I met him in New York. We got high and I fucked him for hours and hours. He has the best mouth I ever… well, I guess you know that.” He smirks, “Like I said, meeting you boys always seems to get me into trouble.”
Orlando’s lips are warm and wet and JC moans into the kiss as Orlando’s hands fall to his hips, grinding his own hips against JC’s.
“Oh yeah.” Orlando breathes out, “You’re just fucking perfect, aren’t you?”
JC whimpers as Orlando unzips him and gets his hand around his cock and strokes him hard and fast and perfect. JC comes all too quickly, just like a fucking teenager, with Orlando’s lips on his ear, whispering the dirtiest things to him.
for
saturn92103