GLITTER

Title: LJ Drabble for June
Author: Ros
Pairing: VK/Orlando Bloom
Rating: Hard R
Notes: Takes place in Cracktrailer verse

...And I can't go in for humiliation, but I can *definitely* go in for a late night at the hooscow, sounds from the television in the other room where the Deputy on duty is nodding off to the 3AM rerun of Judge Judy and Vinnie's down on his knees on the filty floor of the town's one jail cell. Orli's hips trapped between the wall and Vinnie's hands, dirty finger nails pressing stains above cornflower-blue bruises. Orli's cock half-way down Vinnie's lungs, zipper scratching at Vinnie's beard and making him growl.

Cement's got no give, sound just bounces right off. Echoes of slurping and sucking noises, the high, short breaths Orli's giving up with each twist of his hips. Vinnie pulls back enough to suckle on the tip of Orli's dick, watched the length of it shine in the dim yellow lights. Looks up to see something even better: Orli with his eyes screwed tight, head so far back the tips of all that hair practically brush his ass. Point of Orli's chin, covered in a spattering of scruff, and the pale underside of it, smooth skin over throat, over the adam's apple that jumps when Vinnie hollows his cheeks.

Strings of profanities dropping from Orli's parted lips, words his momma would wash his mouth out with soap for, if she was around to hear them. Luckily she's not, because Vinnie's pretty sure he doesn't want her to see him like this. Moaning around the heavy weight of Orli's dick pressing up against the back of his throat while Orli winds Vinnie's hair around his fists and tugs him forward until Vinnie's nose is buried in Orli's stomach. Sweat and sex and the sharp flare of his nostrils against the smell of both. Beats gasoline and someone else's vomit any day.

"Fuck, yeah. Better take it all," Orli's saying, voice as rough as his strokes, syllables beaking off at the wrong places.

Vinnie just whimpers back, his own hips working frantically, cock hard and trapped in his jeans, wet spots forming on the front of the denim, and Orli's going to see them later and laugh and tell him he's such a good little cocksucker, getting all worked up like that.

Right now, though, Orli's just arching away from the wall, hipbones slapping up against Vinnie's face as Orli fucks his mouth raw and aching. Rubs his thumb behind Vinnie's ear and hisses out words Vinnie's never even heard Orli say before, words like baby and sweetheart . Follows them with ones that Vinnie can understand even through the haze of lust.

"Pretty fucking mouth. Gonna make me come."

The first time they did this, it had been in Vinnie's step-daddy's toolshed. The both of them still soaked from the river, laughing and trying to keep the beer bottles from clinking together so that Chuck wouldn't find out they'd raided his private fridge.

Chuck was passed out anyways. They could almost still hear his snores through the ripped grid of the screen door and the cracks between the boards of the shed. Still, they'd tried to keep their conversation quiet, afraid he'd wake up at any moment and ruin their fun-day.

Vinnie can't remember what they talked about - how much school sucked and whether Missy Sue was ever going to give it up for Orli and how the Twins were going to so kick everyone else's ass that summer - but he does remember finishing his last beer and closing his eyes against the alcohol-fuzz. And the next thing he knew, Orli was sliding his hand down between the elastic of Vinnie's swim trunks and slipping his tongue between Vinnie's surprise-parted mouth and Vinnie'd grunted his way to his first orgasm before he could even open his eyes.

Snatches of memories from that day swirl around in Vinnie's head as Orli clenches his fists and splashes hot and salty-sweet down his throat. Vinnie licks Orli clean until Orli pushes him away with a small helpless sound. His knees are screaming and his jaw is sore and it's just as good as that first time. Better, even. Because Orli's hands are rough and certain as he hauls Vinnie up and slams him against the wall so hard that a glitter of plaster falls down around them.

And then Orli's cursing again as he unbuckles Vinnie's belt with one hand while his other hand wraps itself around Vinnie's neck. Vinnie tries to gasp around the bands of fingers pressing air back down into his lungs and jerks into Orli's fist.

"Like I said," Orli whispers, right up against his ear. "You owe me for landing our asses in this shithole."

Vinnie chokes around laughter, vision blurring at the edges as Orli squeezes around the base of his cock. Orli's always had a weird definition of payback. Not that Vinnie's complaining.

No, not complaining at all. Right now, he's too busy losing sight and sound, can't even smell the fetid scent of unwashed bodies left too long on cots to sleep the night off. Instead he's thinking about how it's always going to be like this. Even if he takes that job in Louisville that his cousin Reed's fanangled for him. Even if Orli marries Missy Sue.

They're always going to spend the summer days passing beers between them. Always have lazy evenings where Orli's telling him to "stop that, you needy bitch, I'm watching Nascar," before he flips Vinnie over on to his stomach and his words slur into, "you want my cock up your ass, huh? That what you begging for?" They're always going to have this.

And Vinnie's always going to find his way back, no matter where he is. Because he's coming and shouting Orli's name at the same time, in this stupid, nasty jailcell, and it's the best, most beautiful thing he's ever known.

-End