Orli

Disclaimer: I do not know Orlando Bloom or any other celebrities who may or may not appear in this story. It's a work of fiction, that I made up. Although, my birthday is the same day as Orlando's. I don't know how that affects anything, but I just like to tell people. I have no idea of Orlando's sexuality, but this story is not implying anything about it. Again, I say, FICTION.

This story isn't going to be all sexy, all the time. It'll probably get steamy, but you'll have to give it a while. It's like soup. It needs to simmer before it can boil. However, any eroticness you do read, is going to be homosexual man-on-man action, so if you're under 21, 18 or however the hell old you have to be where you are, go and have a sandwich. If the thought of guys doing 'stuff' offends you, you might want to go and have a snack also.

Well, I think that's about it. Oh, no, hang about. If you steal my story I will be very angry. E-Mail me before you post it anywhere else, or ooh, I'll be cross.

Previously . . .

'Well, goodnight, Matty,' he said, then on what was apparently an impulse he turned back and kissed my cheek, before turning around and quickly shutting his door behind him. I heard the key twist in the lock, and then I was on my own in the corridor.

I slowly touched a hand to my cheek. It hadn't burned off with the heat, but the way it was building I was going to lose the outer layers soon.

Orlando Bloom just kissed my cheek.

He just kissed my cheek.

He just kissed me.

My cheek.

Me.

Oh God.

I leant back against my door. My door which, tragically, I'd unlocked five minutes ago and left ajar. I let out a resigned 'oh, crap' as I plummeted to the floor and as my head bonked to a rest I sighed again. 'Ouch.'

I shuffled into my room and kicked the door shut, before pulling myself up and locking it. I put a hand to my cheek again.

This has to mean something, right? He kissed my cheek. Except . . . we're both actors. It's an actory thing to do. Maybe he was just being polite.

For the second time in as many days, I put my head in my hands. Then, not willing to lose beauty sleep over it, I slipped into my 'I Heart Love' PJs and went to bed.

To Be Continued.

ORLI

Chapter Five

I woke up the next morning with a smile on my face.

I'd just had a really nice dream - I couldn't remember what it was about, but I had a sneaky suspicion it had something to do with Orlando - and I was in that gorgeous stage where you wake up but you don't open your eyes, so that you feel like you're still asleep and you're so safe and warm and cosy . . . ah I love my bed.

I frowned slightly when I realised that I was dribbling quite badly. My chin was wet and I could feel a moistness on my pillow. I sighed, and licked the drool off my chin, thankful that at least Orlando wasn't here yet.

Smiling at the thought of that little embarrassment avoided, I opened my eyes.

'JEE-WHOA-OW!' Analysis: 'Jee' as I realised that Orlando's face was about a foot from my own. 'Whoa' as I spun backwards like some kind of drunken whirling dervish. 'Ow' as I spun my way right off the bed and ended up in a tangle of sheets on the floor the other side.

'Shit!' yelped Orlando and threw himself clear over the bed in an attempt to help me. Unfortunately exactly as he did that I managed to free my leg, which left extra sheeting for him to wrap round me on his way down, his legs landing on either side of my hips and effectively pinning me down. I blinked up at him from between two folds of sheet.

'Do you mind? I'm not a horse.'

'Shit! Are you OK? Sorry!' said Orlando in quick succession, his eyes looking so genuinely contrite that I actually felt sorry for him. Odd, since I'd been the one spinning out of control.

'Are you kidding? You have been paying attention the last two days, right? This is, like, playtime for me. Just wait till someone puts me near the button that says "Nuclear Destruction: Do Not Touch" with a comically slippy polished floor and I'll be off.'

We both laughed, and Orlando pulled the sheets away from my face.

I was suddenly really, really aware of his legs straddling my hips.

Orlando shifted slightly, and I froze as his thigh was suddenly pressed against my now fully-awake cock. The damn thing responded eagerly to the touch, even through pyjamas and the sheets, and started to grow along my hip as Orlando's thigh pressed in harder. I bit my lip as Orlando's eyes met mine.

'Are you OK?' he asked softly.

This was too much. It was bad enough that he knew I was insane, if he felt me getting a hard-on just because he was sitting on me that would just slam the nail right into the coffin. I threw myself upwards, noticing with a wince that I was hurling possibly the most attractive actor in the world onto my bed, and hurried to my ensuite, shouting, 'I AM FINE. I NEED A SHOWER.'

It's my thing. When I'm nervous or under sexual tension, there's a whole thing where I shout. I think it's a medical condition. I'm-a-twat-itis.

'You sure?' he called.

'YES I AM FINE! I AM JUST UNCLEAN! BECAUSE OF SLEEPING! AND WISH TO CLEAN MYSELF!' I yammered back, feeling not unlike a gibbon, before leaning against the shower and taking deep breaths. OK. Now I was in there, I might as well get clean. I switched on the water, threw my PJs on the floor and hopped in.

The hot water splashing across my skin was exactly what I needed. My 'excitement' faded as the water dampened my whole body, running down my chest and legs and washing away the night's gunk and the morning's traumas.

I was just running a grateful hand through my hair when the door swung open and Orlando strolled in.

'WHOA!' I yelped, hurling myself against the wall so that my ass was out of sight. No, wait, what about my cock? I swung myself round to hide that. My ass! Round again. My cock! Round again. Ass! Cock! Ass! Cock! Eventually I just gave up and curled up on the floor of the shower and tried not to drown.

'Sorry,' he called,' but I thought since we're on a timescale I could just use your loo.'

'Oh no, no no no, that's fine,' I called. 'Just, you know, pee away!'

After a couple of seconds, I heard the distinctive sound of pee hitting the water in the bowl. I put my head in my hands and groaned behind the screeny bit of the shower, where he couldn't see me. This was torture! And I deserved it for my naughty dreams!

I couldn't take it anymore. I slowly slid my head out from behind the screen, hoping to get maybe the teeniest glimpse - but as I popped my head out, he turned round, in the act of zipping up his jeans, and looked straight at me.

I froze, like a naked deer caught in sexy headlights, and then carried on moving and grabbed the comb next to the shower. 'Comb,' I said, like that explained everything, then hurled myself back into the shower and shut the door.

I thought I heard Orlando chuckle, then the bathroom door shut and he was gone.

The rest of my shower was the quickest shower in history. When I came out into the main room, fully clothed (dressed all in white - a tight white tee, some white combat-type trousers and a long white jacket ready for going out in) I found him watching TV, one leg resting on the arm of the chair.

'Come and watch the news for a minute,' he said, extending himself all along the couch.

'Uh, I don't really watch TV in the mornings,' I said lamely.

'Come on, it's the news! Topical!' he said. 'Come on.'

I sighed. 'OK, I'll watch the news with you. But where will I sit?'

Grinning, he patted the couch next to where his legs were. 'Plenty of room,' he smiled. Was I imagining it or was he actually flirting?

Reluctant as I was to get too close to him, I couldn't just scream 'DON'T TOUCH ME' and run from the room, so I walked towards him. My stupid feet once again hijacked the occasion, this time deciding they couldn't bear to leave the carpet and getting themselves all tangled, leaving me to resignedly drop forwards towards Orlando.

He caught me in both arms (well, he'd had enough practice) and managed to swing me round, turning the fall into a hop that ended with me lying on the couch next to him, his arm over my stomach. I started to move upwards, to sit up straight, but his arm tightened against my stomach, holding me in place.

I looked at him uncertainly - this had surpassed my daily level of weirdness and I had no clue what was happening. But Orlando didn't say anything. Just kept his arm wrapped round my stomach and leant on his other hand, watching TV.

Fine. If he was going to be all huggy and casual, I would too. Damn the consequences. He started it. I leaned back until I was touching him, then let myself go slack so that my whole body was leaning against him.

His arm lifted a fraction off my stomach - I was about to get up, sure I'd made him feel weird - then his arm lifted up a little so that it fit better round my waist, and pulled me closer in. His head was resting on my shoulder now, and I heard him take a deep breath next to my ear.

This was too weird. Part of me was loving every second of it, part of me wanted to turn round and shove myself so close to him that I could feel his heart beat, wanted to grab his head and kiss him so hard and for so long that I couldn't feel anything else but him . . . but I knew he was straight, I knew he was, and he was a celebrity and I was just a struggling actor, and he was just being friendly and I didn't know him nearly well enough to make snap judgements about his character based on semi-hugs he was giving me . . .

Enough was enough. I'd have to talk to him, and soon. But not in the morning. My brain was smulched enough in the mornings.

I jumped up, smoothing down my rumpled T-Shirt. I caught a brief flash of surprise and annoyance in Orlando's eyes as I turned to face him, covered up with his usual amiable grin.

'We should get going,' I said. 'We don't want to be late to meet Clea and the others.'

We chatted away as normal in the car on the way to the theatre, Joe as usual providing the vehicular transport. While all this was going out in the real world, my brain was going mental.

*OK. Orlando is behaving very oddly. First he kisses me goodnight. On the cheek, granted, but hello, lippage. Then he is apparently watching me sleep at ridiculous times of the morning. Then he's straddling me. Then he's just strolling into the bathroom while I shower and peeing. Then he's making with the cuddling. What the fuck is going on?

Clearly, he's just a very touchy-feely man who wants to be nothing more than friends.

Why is that clearly?

Because he was in heat the other week hugging his girlfriend! Remember? You gave her that moustache and then stabbed the picture repeatedly with the drawing pin?

Oh yeah. But he keeps touching me!

Look, we've had this before. Straight boys think gay guys are all cuddly and huggable, and hug and touch because they think it's what we expect, and then you think they're gay and then chaos reigns when they're actually not! Stop obsessing, this man does not like you! Now would you listen to what he's saying? You might miss something important.

Well, I would, if you'd stop bibbling in my ear.

I'm you, you twat.

Oh, shut up.*

I snapped out of my irritating little tete-a-tete with myself to find Orlando looking at me expectantly. Oh crap, I was right. I should have been listening.

'Uh . . . yes?' I offered. Mission: Confuse Orlando so that he doesn't realise I've been inner-mologueing about him.

'Yes?'

'Yes.'

'Your favourite time of year is "yes".'

'Yes.'

'What?'

'What?'

Orlando blinked and shook his head. Mission accomplished.

'So what made you accept this job?' I asked. 'I mean, surely you get offered loads of stuff. Why did you take this one?'

'Well, I wanted a break from all the high-maintenance movie stuff,' Orlando said, running his hands through his hair. 'what with all the Lord of the Rings stuff, then Ned Kelly and Pirates of the Caribbean, not to mention Troy, I haven't had any time to myself for years. I thought this'd be a nice break.'

'Oh, so, what, we're, like, your community project?'

'No, not at all! I mean, I've committed myself. You know, if you -' He stopped suddenly, putting a hand to his mouth like he'd said too much.

'If we what?'

'Yes?' he said, looking innocent.

'Yes?'

'Yes.'

'If we yes.'

'Yes.'

'What?'

'What?' Orlando grinned at me, clearly happy at having turned my own little distraction tactic around on me.

'Oh, that's so not funny,' I growled, smacking his arm.

I honestly have no clue what happened next. You know on TV, how sometimes you get those little timeshifts where you see two people one minute, then the next they're falling off a building or in bed or something? Well, it was like that. I smacked his arm, and the next thing I knew I was on my back with my legs in the air, his hand gripping both arms while he mercilessly tickled my stomach.

Now, I don't tickle well. I'm not one of those demure people who does the whole 'oh, teehee, that tickles.' I'm more of an 'OINK OINK MAHAHAHAHA SNORT SNORT' type of person. So that's exactly what I did. I was so mortified. I was rolling around and snorting while Orlando Bloom tickled me.

Sometimes I hate me.

We were saved by Joe choosing that specific moment to brake really suddenly outside the theatre. I squeaked as my ass slipped off the seat and I found myself lying on the floor, pretty much entirely squished by Orlando. He rolled his eyes at me and tapped on the parting screen between us and Joe.

'Thanks, Joe! Really smooth!'

'Clunk-click,' called back Joe. 'You should be wearing a seatbelt, Mr Bloom. And your boyfriend, too.'

'WHAT?' I yelped, swinging myself upwards at exactly the same time that Orlando's head whipped back round to face me.

BONK.

'Ow!'

'Oh! Oh, dat boz by dose. Oh, by dose.'

'Oh my God!' Oh no, I'd broken Orlando Bloom's nose. I'd broken his nose! His nose! his beautiful nose! 'Are you all nose?' What? Mouth! Work! 'All right? Are you all right?'

'Oh, by poor dose.'

'Oh! I'm sorry! Let me see!' Orlando gingerly took his hand away from his 'dose' and let me look, flinching as I got up close. 'OK, there's no blood. I think . . . you . . . should . . . be . . . fine . . .' You know, it's weird how nice his eyes are . . .

'Oi! Bloomhead, are you getting out of my car or do I have to install a love seat?' Considering what had happened last time Joe made a statement like that, I half-expected Orlando to hurl himself under the seat and cower there till I was finished spazzing out, but he just grinned.

'Yeah, we're done, Joe,' he said, rubbing his nose but thankfully no longer talking like a throaty penguin. 'I'll see you here at six.'

'We waved Joe goodbye and got out of the car, while my brain busily worked over what it had just heard. Joe called me Orlando's boyfriend. Plus with the love seat. But that didn't necessarily mean - Joe was a funny guy - but with the - and then the -

I turned to Orlando. 'We don't finish till six?'

'No.'

'Oh, crap.'

'what?'

'And the vodka's in the hotel.'

'Matty! Darling! You're here! With Orlando! And only ten minutes late! Ahahahaha!' Translation: I fucking hate you. You fuck.

'Sorry, Clea,' Orlando said sheepishly. 'I kept us. You know, I wanted to look my best for the rehearsal.' He offered her a dazzling smile that, seriously, I had to, like, guide myself with my hands due to the blinding gorgeousness of.

'Oh!' Translation: What the fuck? The fuck isn't fucking up? Fuck!

'MATTY!' What appeared to be a human-shaped cannonball smacked into me, squishing me against the wall and making me feel not unlike a pancake with some kind of berry mixed in, and a little bit of syrup on top with just the faintest hint of lemon . . . mm-mm good. Oh, where was I? Oh! Squishing, cannonball, gotcha.

When I managed to peel whatever it was off me, I found myself face to face with a flustered Nina. 'You said you'd call when you got to the hotel and give me your new number and I never got the call and I thought the Mafia had kidnapped you or something and I was going to find your toe in my Honey Loops!'

'Honey, I was moving in with Orlando Bloom, not the Sopranos.'

'But still!'

'It's OK,' Orlando grinned, offering his hand. 'I like Matty's toes just the way they are.' Nina gave me a look that said something along the lines of: Is he flirting?

I sent her a look that said: Well, this is what I've had all weekend.

She sent me a look that said: Really? But I thought he was straight?

I sent her a look that said: Me too, but this morning he hugged me and also saw me naked and with the grinding.

She sent me a look that said: Oh, with the grinding? My, that sounds erotic. I think you should shag him.

I sent her a look that said: Dirty!

Seriously, we're almost telepathic.

Our looks were interrupted by Natasha's arrival. 'Why, hellooooo Orlandoooooo,' she practically drooled down his pants. 'Sooooo glad to see you agaaaaaaain,' while wiggling her tits up and down his upper torso in the manner of a pole dancing prostitute nympho demon bitch from hell.

'Oh, hi,' said a slightly-bemused looking Orlando. 'Charlotte, isn't it?'

Natasha actually looked shocked. 'Er . . . no. Natasha.' I swear, I saw her boobs droop. 'My name is Natasha.'

'Oh! Yeah, that's it, sorry, I'm terrible with names. I never remember a face.'

'Well, that's understandable!' trilled Natasha and went off, no doubt to make her boobs even bigger in some Satanic ritual before we started.

Katie floated past, mouthed 'It's nice to see you again Mr Bloom' (either that or 'It's lice who eat your hair in the gloom', she's always a bit vague with her mouthing) and ran away. Almost literally.

Clea, who was just on the edge of attaching a rope to the ceiling and swinging through our midst to attract our attention, screeched, 'REHEARSAL STARTS IN TEN - NINE - EIGHT - SEVEN -'

While Natasha sliced past me, the wind in her hair and her boobs bouncing dramatically - I hate that woman - I grabbed the bemused Orlando and dragged him towards the centre of the stage.

'What's going on?' he asked.

'- SIX - FIVE -'b

'It's Clea's thing,' I replied. 'She thinks if we're all totally relaxed at the beginning of the rehearsal then we can build up from there into something, as she puts it, "magical".'

'- FOUR - THREE -'

'Magical?'

'It's best not to argue, she has friends in the Underworld.'

'- TWO -'

'But what do I -'

'Just get down!'

As Clea shrieked 'ONE!' I grabbed Orlando and yanked him to the floor with me. In the ensuing kerfuffle, his leg somehow became splayed over mine, meaning that I was way, way close to his crotch. I closed my eyes, bit my lip, and hoped that I wasn't going to pop a hard-on in the middle of rehearsal, lying next to Orlando Bloom.

Clea spent the next ten minutes flapping around us like an epileptic sparrow, occasionally yelping 'Breathe IN and OUT and IN and OUT' at the kind of speeds that would have had us all going into some kind of asthmatic shock if we paid any attention, then leaving huge gaps that would have had us all asphyxiated, before the actual rehearsal began.

Now, an actor never reveals the secrets of rehearsal. And I'm not about to break that tradition. Rehearsal's actually really boring, to be honest. All we do is repeat the same lines and actions over and over and over again without actually ever getting anywhere. Admittedly, the fact that Clea is in control means that there's a little bit more chaos to the proceedings, but other than that it's probably more intensive than any other workplace.

Of course, with intensity comes my clumsiness, so by the end of the day I'd fallen over approximately five hundred and seventy two objects, and been rescued by Orlando approximately five hundred and seventy two times.

It was weird - I'd expected our odd intense/looking/touching thing to fade a little while we were around other people, but if anything it just became more blatant. Every opportunity he got, Orlando was brushing against my arm or putting his arm round my shoulders or resting his hand on my leg. I swear, we were playing the most incestuous brothers this side of . . . another set of incestuous brothers.

The day - finally - came to an end. I gave Nina my new phone number at the hotel, and Clea screeched her approval of the new living arrangements. Natasha shot me a look of death and wiggled her tits around on Orlando's chest a bit more, but when he didn't rip off her top and instantly ravage her, stormed off in a huff. And me and Orlando got into the patiently-waiting car and asked Joe to take us to the hotel.

It wasn't long before we found ourselves in the hotel corridor again. Despite everything that had happened, I really didn't feel the need to talk to Orlando about the day. What I really wanted to do was just forget about it all and carry on like we were, but since that wasn't very likely I opted to spend the evening alone with my angst.

'Sorry,' I said, 'but I'm really tired. I think I'm just going to have a bath and head to bed. OK?'

'But it's only seven,' he proclaimed in a plaintive voice.

'A really long bath.'

'OK,' he sighed, 'but I have a really good time with you. I'll be lonely on my own.'

There was no kiss on the cheek this time. He just went into his room. And I didn't fall into my room, either. Congratulating myself on the lack of pain, I sat down on the bed.

'I have a really good time with you. I'll be lonely on my own.'

Ah, who was I kidding?

I jumped up and hurried towards the door. I'd go over into Orlando's room, and I'd just say to hell with it, I'm spending the evening with you and -

WHAM.

Orlando, clearly having the same idea, charged into my room like some kind of rampaging elephant, obviously not realising that I was right behind the door. It smushed my face and knocked me backwards at the same time, resulting in entirely-unerotic picture of me, sprawled on my back on the floor, legs akimbo, making this noise:

'Wa-OOH-ow!'

I am a Sex. Kitten.

'Oh my God!' Orlando threw the door shut and ran over to me, positioning his knees under my head and pushing my long fringe out of my eyes. 'Are you OK? Did I hurt you? I'm so sorry!'

I managed a weak 'Oh . . . by dose.'

'Oh, your dose!' he cried. 'I mean nose! Your nose!'

'Well, it's OK,' I wheezed. 'I smushed your dose, you smushed my dose. All good relationships are based on equality and the ability to share, right?'

'Relationship?'

Crap! What did I say? Think, brain, think! The little people working inside my brain leapt desperately onto the thought and tried to yank it back to keep it from trickling out like drainwater. Ohh . . . crap, I did say relationship. Oh no . . .

'Er . . . I said . . . no, I meant fellatioship . . . oh God, no, that's not what I meant either -'

'Ssh,' he grinned. 'I think I know what you meant.'

His left hand stroked down my left cheek, stopping at my chin. He tilted my head up, and looked down at me.

'I know exactly what you mean.'

His head moved forwards, and before I had time to figure out whether my vision was going due to the concussion or reality was actually setting in, the confusion was over.

Orlando Bloom, his hand resting gently on my cheek with his other hand against my shoulder, leaned down and pressed his lips against my own, his tongue darting into my mouth as my entire body melted into his face.

To Be Continued.

Oh, is that a horrible cliffhanger? Oh . . . oh well. ;) I wonder how this will end? Don't worry . . . Chapter Six will wing its way towards you soon.

I am an author and live on feedback. It's like Dairylea to me. Tell me what you think! I'm also not averse to including storylines you might want to see. Bribes are welcome.

madi_mcfarland@hotmail.com

I have to apologise here for the fact that this chapter took longer than usual . . . I've been a bit ill this weekend so I've had to work in bits and pieces. Sorry!

Keep that feedback coming! I think I'm getting addicted! Until I can get some sort of E-Mail Methodone . . . I'm relying on you people. :) Thank you for everything I've got so far . . . I love you for it!

And I was serious last time about the pictures. Just saying.

Maddy

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