Welcome to winter in New York. "Yeah, what'd you figure out then, genius?" Josh replies, grin wide and wicked, despite being almost smothered by his scarf. "You, my friend, are trying to keep me out of the house." "I can't take my best friend out for a soda on his birthday?" "Not when you're going to see me tonight for dinner, no," Orlando declares, pleased with himself for his deductive skills. "Besides, Rain's ready to pop at any time –" "She's only six months –" "Therefore, you should be spending an afternoon off tending to her, not me." Orlando nods, as if to settle the matter. "You get far too much time to yourself when you're out on the road, anyone ever tell you that," Josh says, bumping Orlando's shoulder. "Ain't on the road now." "It's still addled your brain." "Bet 'Quin put you up to it, didn't he?" "Now, you know I ain't gonna tell you nothing." "You don't have to," Orlando grins. "Got my answer right there." "You're a right pain, anyone tell you that?" "You mighta mentioned it once or twice." Orlando slings an arm around Josh's shoulder. "But I'll play along for a bit, as long as we can get out of the cold. Freezing my ass off ain't my idea of a good birthday." "Well...I gotta keep you out for another hour. Up for a game of pool?" "Only if you don't mind losing." "Not even for your birthday." *** "No, no, that's fine." Joaquin steps back and smiles as the delivery man moves Orlando's gift into the garage. A few coins dropped in the man's hand earns Joaquin a tipped hat and a grin. But his mind's already on Orlando's reaction. Especially after Orlando had accused him just that morning of forgetting what day it is. "As if I could," Joaquin laughs to himself and closes the doors before going back into the house to wait. *** "Now, you two aren't gonna be late, are you?" Josh asks, hands shoved in his pockets as he bounces from foot to foot at the bottom of the steps to Orlando and Joaquin's house. "You think I'd be late to my own birthday dinner?" Orlando chuckles. "Not on purpose, but you two..." "After details, are you?" "No, and if you tell me, I'll make you watch Rain while she's in labor." Both shudder as soon as the words leave Josh's mouth. "Unnatural is what that is," Orlando states, and moves in for a quick, hard hug. "Now get home to your wife." "Happy birthday, bro." "Thanks, man." Orlando waves once, then jogs up the steps, shivering as he fumbles with the key. "Honey, I'm hoooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooome!!!!" "Well, I see the cold didn't freeze your voice," Joaquin drawls, clearly amused as he leans against the kitchen door. He finishes wiping his hands and drapes the towel over his shoulder. "Have a good time?" "Yeah, it was good," Orlando replies, shrugging out of his overcoat with a grateful sigh. The warmth of the house curls through him like a caress. "Kicked his ass at a few games of pool." He glances slyly at Joaquin out of the corner of his eye. "Shoulda joined us." Joaquin shrugs. "Had some things I needed to take care of," he says, turning to go back into the kitchen. "Do me a favor. There's a box in the garage that I need. Get it for me?" "I just took my coat off." "It'll just take a minute, y'big baby," Joaquin calls. "You can't miss the box." "Bastard," Orlando mumbles to himself, jerking his coat back off the rack. "Won't even tell me happy birthday, pawns me off on Josh for two hours, now I gotta go fetch for him..." The grumbling continues as he tromps out of the house. Snow crunches under his feet as he makes his way to the garage. "...mighta known that he'd be like this, just another..." Orlando stumbles to a halt, tongue frozen, as the bike gleams dully from the sunlight glinting off the windows. "Happy birthday, baby," Joaquin says, softly, stopping a few feet behind Orlando. "I...it's..." Gently, as if afraid he might disturb the image, Orlando circles the bike. An Indian Chief, V-twin, dual cams, helical gears...every inch of it is sleek, sexy. The classic cherry red frame gleams. "It's gorgeous." Joaquin just smiles and watches, hands in his pockets. It had been hard as hell pretending all day to have forgot Orlando's birthday, but this...this makes it all worth it. Orlando tears his gaze from the bike, and into Joaquin's satisfied smile. "I didn't even know they were manufacturing these yet." "That's one of the first ones off the line." Joaquin walks over to smooth his hand across the rich leather of the seat. "Had to grease a few palms to get it, but it was worth it." "You...for me?" It's almost a whisper. Looking up, Joaquin smiles. "It's your birthday," he says, simply. "Christ, 'Quin..." A second later, Orlando tugs Joaquin forward, arms wrapped tight around him. He still can't think of a damn thing to say, so he hopes this is enough. Joaquin chuckles and hugs Orlando tight. "I love you, too," he whispers, nuzzling his cold nose against Orlando's warm neck. "Jesus." Orlando laughs then, a little breathless and high, because, well. This is just too much. And so exactly like 'Quin, man. He turns his head, skimming his lips across Joaquin's in gratitude. "Thank you." "You're welcome." Tilting his head, Joaquin deepens the kiss for a moment, hands splayed comfortably against Orlando's back. Orlando sighs happily when he lifts his head. "Now that's my idea of a birthday gift," he grins. "Y'think it's too cold to take it for a spin?" "Not at all." Joaquin returns the grin, forehead resting against Orlando's. "Be disappointed if you didn't." "You know me too well." Orlando darts in for a quick kiss, then lets out a whooping laugh. "Fucking Christ but this thing is a beaut." He tugs on his gloves as he straddles the bike, humming appreciatively at the way the curves of it hug his thighs. "Don't get too reckless," Joaquin cautions, and grins at the defiant look Orlando gives him. "Hate to end your birthday with a busted leg, yeah?" "Around the block, I promise," Orlando smiles, and groans in lustful appreciation as he starts the engine and the full-throated rumble echoes off the walls. *** By the time Orlando returns, Joaquin's finished in the kitchen and is comfortably sprawled on the sofa. He looks up as keys rattle in the doorknob. "Well?" "It's perfect," Orlando announces. He just knows if he grins any wider, he'll split his face. Not that he cares. He tosses the keys on the table and sheds his coat, then pounces on top of Joaquin with an ease born of long practice. "Perfect," he repeats, ducking in for a soft kiss of thanks. "Good." Joaquin smiles, wraps his arms loosely around Orlando's waist. He'd do just about anything, he thinks, to keep that grin on Orlando's face. "Shoulda come outside with me." Orlando relaxes into the light touches, warming himself with the heat of Joaquin's body as he nuzzles just under Joaquin's jaw. "She whips around corners like a goddamn dream." Another smile crosses his face, and Joaquin laughs softly. "I know," he says, tilting his chin up to give Orlando better access. "You do?" "Wasn't very well gonna buy it without trying it out first, yeah?" Joaquin can't help it. He laughs at the indignant look on Orlando's face. "You rode my bike?" "Just a spin around the block before I paid for it," Joaquin says, still laughing. "I can't believe you rode my bike without me," Orlando frowns. He can't quite decide how upset he is by this. Not enough to actually move, but, well, dammit, that's his bike. Even if 'Quin had bought it for him. Gentle fingers capture Orlando's chin, and Joaquin smiles a small smile. "Just to make sure it worked, baby. That's all." "Bet you enjoyed yourself though," Orlando grumbles, even as he starts nuzzling Joaquin's neck again. "Of course I did," Joaquin laughs again, arms sliding back around Orlando's waist. "But the bike is yours." "Damn right," and Orlando smiles, can't help it, wouldn't stop even if he could. He can't remember the last time he's felt so...content. "Guess I can let you take care of it for me, though, while I'm on the road." "Awful generous of you," Joaquin says with a grin, fingers working under Orlando's shirt in search of a ticklish spot. "I'm a generous type of fella," Orlando replies, squirming away from Joaquin's questing fingers, because he knows what's coming next, and damned if he'll give in. "Are you now?" Joaquin smiles, fingers slipping under Orlando's shirt again. He knows exactly what Orlando's trying to do, and damned if he's going to let him get away with it that easily. "Yessss..." Orlando wriggles again, batting at Joaquin's hands. "Stop that." "Stop what?" Joaquin asks, all innocence as his fingers ruthlessly slide along Orlando's ribs. "That," Orlando gasps, and does his best to distract Joaquin with a soft, seeking kiss. Joaquin hums into the kiss, lips curved in a faint smile. His hands slide along Orlando's spine, tracing muscle and bone, applying gentle pressure until Orlando is molded against him. Perfect. Orlando opens himself to the kiss, to Joaquin, tongue lazily twining with Joaquin's as they slide and rub together in languorous harmony. Day's not even half over yet, and it's already the best birthday Orlando can remember. He knows, as long as he lives, that he'll never get tired of this, of this feeling. "Love you," Joaquin whispers against lips that are still damp from the kiss. His forehead rests against Orlando's; his hands rub lazy circles along warm skin. This is how he wants to keep Orlando always -- warm and languid and easy. Just like this. "Love you," Orlando replies, rubbing his lips against Joaquin's. Each time they're like this, open and tangled together, is a balm against the time that Orlando knows is coming. Against the long weeks they'll be apart. Joaquin's arms tighten. "Mmm..." He breathes deep, burying his face in the curve of Orlando's neck. The crisp, clean scent of outside still clings to his skin and hair, and it fills Joaquin, easing him enough that his arms loosen. "Right here," Orlando murmurs, for the both of them, reassurance that he hasn't gone anywhere. "Always be right here." No matter where he goes. He slides his hands up under Joaquin's shirt, seeking, soothing, with soft touches on warm skin. "I know," Joaquin says, voice soft. His hands move, steadily sliding Orlando's shirt up. He loves this part, the slow give and take of their relationship. "Not long before we have to be at dinner..." "We have all night after." Another promise sealed with a kiss. "Think I might just lay you out on the bed and fuck you until dawn, if that sounds alright with you." "Think so, do you?" Joaquin can't help but be amused even as his hands continue to slide Orlando's shirt up. "What if I want to fuck you 'til dawn?" "My birthday," but it's hard to remember exactly what they're talking about now that Joaquin's touching him, skin on skin, assured and possessive. "So it is," Joaquin admits, finally tugging Orlando's shirt off and tossing it aside. "Suppose I'll have to let you then." He smiles at Orlando's frown, leaning up for another soft kiss. "Let me?" Orlando's brows furrow even as he licks Joaquin's taste from his lips. "Let me?" One eyebrow lifts, and green eyes sparkle with amusement. "You'd prefer I not let you?" "Be lucky if I don't make you beg for it, way you're acting." He knows Joaquin's doing this to get a rise out of him, but damned if he can stop the reaction. Every fucking time, man, as far back as he can remember... Gentle hands catch Orlando's face, frame it, and Joaquin's smile disappears. "Baby, don't," he says quietly, gaze not wavering from Orlando's. "Not today, yeah? You know I love you and can't say no to anything you want." "I know," and he does know. His anger, bright and hot, dissipates as quickly as it had appeared. "Can't help it sometimes," he shrugs, ducking his head with a twist of lips that borders on shy. "I know." A small smile appears, and Joaquin strokes his fingers along Orlando's jaw. Sometimes he forgets how easy it is to get under Orlando's skin. "Anything you want tonight. It's your birthday." "And when it's not?" For a moment, Joaquin remains quiet. He wonders why Orlando feels the need to ask. "When it's not," he finally says, searching Orlando's eyes, "we're equals." Exactly the right answer. "We're always equals." He lowers his head, tongue flickering out along Joaquin's jaw, as he nimbly unbuttons Joaquin's shirt. Joaquin shrugs out of his shirt, tugs Orlando to him. "Don't have much time," he murmurs, teeth catching Orlando's earlobe. Not much time at all. Doesn't stop him from unbuttoning Orlando's trousers and sliding his hand inside. "Don't need...Jesus, 'Quin," Orlando stutters, hips arching to meet the press of Joaquin's palm. As long as he lives, he'll always be addicted to the way Joaquin touches him – half-ownership, half-reverence – and the combination floors him every time. "Please," he murmurs across Joaquin's open lips, his own hands sliding down across a bare chest, over familiar, beloved skin. "Don't have to beg," Joaquin whispers, even as he relishes the sound of the word on Orlando's lips. His fingers curl, start a slow slide, and he watches Orlando through his lashes. "All for you today, baby." "Every...day," and Orlando can barely make out the words through the roaring in his ears, the fire in his blood. His hips arch, wordless plea, as his hand slides south, cups Joaquin through too-thick fabric. A quick hand darts down to close around Orlando's wrist. "Uh uh," Joaquin murmurs as he pulls Orlando's hand away, his own continuing to move in slow, steady strokes. "Told you, this is all for you." But I want... only the words aren't quite there. Orlando bites his lip, moans again with the next flicker of Joaquin's wrist, the next slow glide of palm. As much as he likes to pretend that he's as calm and controlled as the next fella, he knows all it takes is one touch from 'Quin to remind him of his place, where he truly belongs. "Later, baby," Joaquin whispers, lips trailing along the warm column of Orlando's throat. Too easy, too tempting, to lay Orlando out and do everything that he wants. Not enough time, man. "Later," he whispers again, wrist twisting on the upstroke. "You can do whatever you want." "P-promise?" And he's close, so fucking close, hands spasming over Joaquin's chest, lips working in a soundless plea, hips blindly thrusting up, seeking that final push. "Promise," and sharp teeth graze over Orlando's collarbone as Joaquin's hand slides up, down. The trembling in lean muscles vibrates into him, through him, and he focuses everything on sending Orlando over the edge. It's possibly the final wrist flick that does it, or maybe it's the assured promise in 'Quin's voice. Not that it matters, really. What does matter is that Joaquin's there, easing him down, soothing him with soft kisses and softer touches, assurances that the world is still here and, indeed, his limbs are all still intact. When Orlando's eyes flutter open, he still feels drunk, dazed. "Happy birthday to me," he murmurs, slurring the words. Joaquin chuckles. He can't help it, not with the way Orlando looks and sounds right now. "Happy birthday, indeed." "Think...maybe...not supposed t'enjoy it much as me, y'know." Another soft chuckle. "I enjoy making you feel good." "Moms're gonna yell at us, y'know," Orlando replies, but he snuggles into Joaquin's embrace all the same. His birthday, he'll be a little late if he damn well pleases. "I'll tell 'em it was my fault." Not entirely a lie, but he doubts that either mother will appreciate that fact. Good thing he doesn't plan on giving them any details as to why. "Good idea," and Orlando lifts his head for the expected kiss. "Greedy brat," Joaquin says, fondly, as his lips rub over Orlando's. "Only for you." "Good thing." A quick swat to one hip, then Joaquin gives Orlando a gentle shove. "Better get ready." "And you better save your strength for later," Orlando grins, and stands, offering a hand to Joaquin. "I'll make sure to eat a good dinner," Joaquin grins back, winking as he slides his hand over Orlando's. "Better," and Orlando steps into Joaquin's arms like he was born into them, and maybe he was. It's a nice thought. "Love you," he murmurs, and nuzzles just under Joaquin's jaw. Strong arms curl around Orlando and squeeze tight. Joaquin brushes his lips over Orlando's temple, feeling the faint pulse throb beneath thin skin. "Love you, baby," he whispers. "Always." Onto Anniversary
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