"Karl!" he shouted, stepping away from the door and into the room, nimbly avoiding the clothes strewn all over the floor. Karl kept telling him something about tidying up or putting them in a drawer, but then, how would he know what to wear if it wasn't out in front of him? Bloody Kiwis and their sense of tidiness. "Karl!" he shouted again, then heard the sound of the shower running. Guess that answered that. He stepped into the bathroom and leaned against the counter, waiting for Karl to finish so he could regale him with his latest mishap. Best to take the piss out of himself before Karl could hear about it from anyone else, he thought. And promptly forgot every single thing he was about to say when Karl shut off the water and flung the shower curtain open. Miles and miles of naked, wet skin, all on glistening display, from strong shoulders to a wide chest down to slender hips and muscled thighs... "Hey," Karl smiled, rubbing a hand across spiky strands of hair as he reached for a towel. "What're you doing back so early?" "Hmm?" "Eyes up here, 'Lando, not like you've never seen me naked." Orlando glared up into Karl's laughing eyes. "One would think that some people would be thrilled that their lover still thinks they're a sexy bastard after all these years." Karl rubbed the towel across his hair, then moved to his armpits and chest. "You're wearing too much clothing for me to properly appreciate the sentiment." "Stuck with a sex-crazed maniac, that's me," Orlando lamented with a loud sigh. Karl brushed a kiss to Orlando's forehead on his way to the bedroom. "That's the problem with having an arse as nice as yours." "Have you looked at my arse lately?" Orlando asked, following Karl and admiring Karl's very nice arse as he fished around for a pair of boxers and slid them on. "Not as recently as I'd like," Karl grinned, and pulled on a t-shirt that stretched intimately across his chest. "Yeah..." Orlando cleared his throat. "About that..." "Your arse?" "I, uh, might've dropped trou downstairs in the lobby." Karl raised an eyebrow. "And how does one 'might' do such a thing?" "Forgot to wear a belt," Orlando shrugged, certain he could feel his cheeks heat up again. "That would do it," Karl nodded, with a light, amused chuckle. "I hope you were wearing something under those baggy jeans of yours." "'Course I was," Orlando snapped. He pulled down a little on his jeans to show off the boxers in question. "Aren't those mine?" "What if they are?" "What if I want them back?" Impossible to resist that gleam in Karl's eyes, and Orlando wasn't even going to try. He let his gaze sweep over Karl again. "What if I wanted you to make me give them back?" Karl paused for a moment, then nodded. "Deal," he stated. And pounced.
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