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Title: "Tart"
Pairing: Jason Isaacs/Orlando Bloom
Rating: R
Summary: Orlando's still the prettiest.
Disclaimer: Never happened.
Notes: Written for Jo's birthday. Set while Jason was filming "Order of the Phoenix".


"I'm still the prettiest."

Jason cracked one eye open and peered at Orlando, who was leaning against the makeup counter and watching with detached interest as Mary finished the last touches on Jason's wig and makeup. Even dressed in his usual pair of ragged jeans and a grey hoodie, mop of hair uncombed and sticking up in all directions, Orlando was still beautiful. Not that Jason ever told Orlando this, of course. Appearances and all. "Still the what?"

"Prettiest," Orlando grinned. "Not that the wig's not hot, mate, but I looked better in mine."

"I hardly think there's a comparison to be made between playing an Elf and a Death Eater."

"I wasn't arguing skill, even though Legolas would win in a fight. Just the wig factor. What d'you think, Mary?"

Mary leaned back and surveyed Jason with a critical eye. "Well, the blond does bring out your eyes, Jason. But Orlando had braids on his wig. Braids are definitely prettier."

"Oh, piss off, the both of you," Jason grumbled, then closed his eyes again. He sat in silence – emphatically not sulking, mind – as Mary dusted his face with powder, then pronounced him ready. He heard the door to the trailer slam a few moments later.

"You're rather fetching like this, you know," Orlando remarked.

Jason didn't open his eyes. "Like what?"

"All done up in leather and eyeliner and the wig. Maybe you could nick it for later. Bet you'd make a right nice dom in that getup."

"Tart," Jason chuckled, then blinked. Orlando had moved from the counter to stand right in front of Jason, so close that Jason could count every one of Orlando's impressively long eyelashes framing those pretty doe eyes.

"Never denied it," Orlando replied. He ran a finger along Jason's inseam, then smirked when Jason jumped. "No moving now, you don't want to ruin Mary's excellent job," he said, then drew the zipper down.

"Orlando..."

"Shhhh." Orlando wormed his hand under Jason's boxers, closed over his semi-hard cock, stroking it to full erection with a few deft moves. "Just lie back and think of the Queen Mother."

"That's hardly liable to make me...good Lord."

"There's a love," Orlando smirked, and Jason lolled his head back and stopped thinking at all. With every practiced, deft twist of Orlando's hand, every assured, slow glide of his fingers, Jason gripped the arms of his chair tighter, then tighter still, until he felt sure he was going to break it. He could feel Orlando's eyes upon him, and the thought of it was almost as hot as the way Orlando's thumb pressed just under the head of his cock.

When he came, he sighed Orlando's name in a broken moan.

"Bloody gorgeous," Orlando smiled, and brushed the barest of kisses across Jason's lips before stepping back and grabbing a handful of tissues from the box on the counter. Jason busied himself with tucking his spent cock back in his boxers and zipping his trousers. The simplicity of the actions helped to steady his hands and his ragged breathing.

"You gonna stick around for a bit?" he asked, when he thought he could speak in a normal tone.

"If you think I'm letting you out of my sight with you all dressed up like that for Alan or Gary to steal you away from me..." But Orlando smiled as he said it.

"Completely mental," Jason said, then stood, and tilted Orlando's chin up for another brief kiss, careful not to disturb his makeup. "After all, you are, by your accounts, still the prettiest."

Orlando's grin was wickedly wide. "Damn right."


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