Which is, of course, easier said than done when you're trying your best to make everything a surprise for the person in question. Thank God Orlando has Josh, he thinks, as he signs his name and folds up the note into thirds. He hopes he's said enough to get Joaquin's attention, but not so much that he's giving anything away. The art of letter writing is one that's lost on him. He's always been a man of action. Josh knocks on the door once and steps in, hand already outstretched. Orlando places the note in Josh's palm, and gives him a serious look. "You know what to do, yeah?" Josh rolls his eyes, feet already tapping. "Yeah, I know already. Jeez Louise, you're all sorts of jittery. Trust me, alright?" Orlando does and Josh knows it. So all that's left to do is nod his head and leave for the warehouse, trusting that Josh will see the note gets into the proper hands. *** Joaquin's sprawled in the back booth of the diner ('holding court,' as Orlando sometimes teases) and talking to a couple of the boys when he looks up, sees Josh push through the door. "'Bout time you showed up," Joaquin calls, rolling his eyes when Josh makes a rude gesture. "I was busy." Josh quickly crosses the diner and drops into the booth across from Joaquin. There's good-natured grumbling as he squashes the other guys into the corner. "Doing what?" Joaquin waits a half second, then grins. "Or should that be who?" "Prolly sweet Annie of the really nice rack," Ridley says, and ducks out of Josh's reach with a wide grin. "I'm betting Betsy," Russell smirks, cigarette dangling from his lips in a careless, cool gesture. "She's been after you like a bitch in heat." "And she pants like one after you've made her come a few times," Josh replies, and reaches on the table to grab his own smoke. "Got a note for you, Chief." With a quick flip, like it's nothing, he tosses the folded note neatly in Joaquin's lap. Immediately wary -- because Josh is never that nonchalant -- Joaquin picks up the note. For the moment, he just holds it, tapping the edge against the table. "Where's your other half?" he asks. "Bet he's with Annie --" "You're obsessed with Annie," Russell breaks in, stopping Ridley before he can get started again. He takes a drag and grins as he blows smoke directly at Ridley. Joaquin smiles at the byplay, but his eyes are fixed on Josh. "Said he had some things to take care of," Josh shrugs, lighting his cigarette with a quick flick of his wrist. "Probably join us later on. You know how he is." "Who's he banging this week?" Russell asks. "Orlando?" Josh waggles his eyebrows, careful not to look in Joaquin's direction. "Dunno what you're talking about, man. I'm the one gets all the pussy around here. Why you guys're all hairy from beating your dicks all the time." The way that Josh avoids looking at him answers any questions Joaquin might have had. He idly wonders how much Orlando's told Josh, then shrugs it away. As the three men across from him indulge in a bit of one-upmanship, he unfolds the note and starts to read. Interesting. Refolding it, he looks at Josh, head still down. "I take it that this is fairly important, yeah?" Josh flicks the ashes into the ashtray. "Dunno, didn't read it. But the messenger seemed a bit anxious, if you follow." "Can't believe you're going to ditch us to go and fuck some broad," Ridley mock-complains. "I wouldn't do that to you guys." "Man, if you ever even got to second with a girl I'll fucking swear off sex myself for a week," Russell says, slapping Ridley on the back. "It's my birthday," Joaquin says as if that explains everything. He smiles, catching Josh's eyes. Don't think it would've mattered if you'd read it. "Yeah, yeah," Russell says, waving his hand as if the day is completely unimportant to him. Josh just takes another drag off his cigarette and matches Joaquin's smile. "Hell, man, Ridley's never got to first base with anything but his hand. He's not called Quick Draw for nothing, y'know." "I resent that," Ridley protests, then yelps when Russell rubs sharp knuckles across his head. "Fucker!" Josh doesn't seem too concerned when Russell and Ridley start pushing at each other, grappling for a hold strong enough to get the other to beg for mercy. "Kids," he shrugs at Joaquin, even though he's the youngest out of their rowdy group. "Lovers' spat," Joaquin replies, smirking when he receives identical looks from Ridley and Russell. "What?" "Fucker," Ridley repeats as Russell chimes in with something much ruder. "I'm not sure that's physically possible," Josh says with a lazy grin. Joaquin laughs and shoves the note into his pocket. "Well, boys, I hate to break up the little party here, but I have an appointment, and I'd hate to be late. I'll make up for it later by letting you all buy me drinks for my birthday." Josh snorts. "Man, if we even see you the rest of the day, I'll be worried." "Might start thinking you're trying to take Ridley's nickname away from him," Russell winks, and accepts the cuff to his shoulder with aplomb. "Get," Josh says, with a jerk of his head. "Man's entitled to a bout of all-day sex on his birthday." Joaquin's grin is sly. "Now when did I say that later meant today?" Laughter follows him out of the diner, and he stops for a moment, breathing in the crisp October air. Just the right bite in the breeze, but Joaquin knows it'll be colder than a well digger's ass once the sun goes down. He pulls out the note, reads it again. Then, whistling a jaunty little tune, he heads off towards the warehouse. *** Everything's set, everything's set. Jesus, stop pacing. Right. Easier said than done. Orlando shakes his head to clear it of the circling thoughts, tries to relax, even as he glances around the room to make sure he hadn't forgotten anything. Has to be perfect, has to. *** "What're you up to, baby?" Joaquin murmurs as he enters the building. A quick glance around shows him that Orlando's nowhere in sight. Which leaves the office. He mounts the stairs with quiet steps, and knows that Orlando's most likely already heard him. That's alright, though, because Joaquin has no desire to sneak in and ruin whatever surprise Orlando might have up his sleeve. Alright, Bloom. Showtime. He takes a deep breath, and settles himself behind the desk, willing his heart to stop its triple beat against his ribs. Joaquin pushes open the door and walks in. Stops. Blinks in amazement. His eyes take in everything -- the ribbons and streamers carefully strewn around the room, the cake in the center of the desk, a small, gaily wrapped box beside it. And Orlando. In a suit and tie, calmly sitting in Joaquin's chair. He's so devastatingly handsome that, for a moment, Joaquin's mouth goes dry. "I, uh, I feel a bit underdressed," he says when he finally trusts himself to speak. "You look perfect," Orlando blurts out. Then, belatedly, "Happy birthday." Fuck. Two seconds, and he can't even hold on that long. But it's not his fault, he wants to whine to the heavens above. How could he be expected to keep his cool when Joaquin's all tousled and perfect and relaxed in faded trousers and a white shirt that's so thin Orlando can clearly see the undershirt beneath, tanned forearms peeking from under rolled sleeves. "I see you got my note." "Delivered by your smirking messenger boy, yes." Joaquin grins and closes the door. Slowly, he crosses the room and stops in front of the desk. Hands in his pockets, he studies the cake, then lifts his gaze to meet Orlando's. "I assume he knows everything now?" "Kinda hard for me to keep a secret from him," Orlando shrugs, chewing on his lower lip in a nervous gesture. "Not pissed, are you?" "Not at all," Joaquin replies as his smile softens. Orlando looks so young and vulnerable right now that it's all Joaquin can do to keep from circling the desk and hugging him. "I'm actually surprised it took you this long to tell him." "I didn't. He guessed." Not that Orlando had been surprised. Josh had always been able to read him faster than anyone. He spreads his hands over the desk, smoothing over the dark wood. "You don't mind not hanging with the boys on your big day? 'Cause, I mean, if that's what you want, we can, um..." He trails off when he realizes he's babbling, and starts chewing on his lip again. Christ, shut the fuck up, would you? "If I'd wanted to hang with them, I wouldn't be here." Joaquin can't help but be amused. He wonders if Orlando honestly thinks that Joaquin would rather spend today with anyone else outside of his sisters and parents. "Yeah, yeah, of course." Once again, Orlando feels very young and incredibly foolish. Even if he is wearing his best new suit. Ah, fuck, but he'd been a fool to think he could do this. Best he can do now is to minimize the damage and get them both out of the room before 'Quin laughs himself silly at what Orlando'd been planning. "You, um..." He makes a vague gesture at the cake. "It's banana creme. Guess you can take it home with you for the girls." "Baby..." Joaquin's voice is soft, and he leans forward, palms flat on the desk. "I'm exactly where I want to be right now, yeah? Mama's planning a family dinner tonight, and I want you there, but that's later." It hurts a little to see Orlando second-guessing himself. And Joaquin knows that's exactly what he's doing. Don't, baby, please. Whatever you've planned will be perfect. "Alright." Orlando's agreeing before he's aware of his words, drawn in by the love and acceptance in emerald eyes. Joaquin's here, he wants to be here, said as much, and Orlando's just gonna have to ease up and relax. Just take a deep breath, alright? Orlando nods and manages a smile. "Alright," he says again. "Alright," Joaquin echoes, and smiles. He doesn't move, but his muscles relax, as Orlando seems to ease down a bit. "Thank you for all this." "Figured I had to go all out at least once," Orlando shrugs, but it's easier to breathe now. It'll be alright. He can do this. He stands, easing himself away from the comfort and safety of the desk, and walks over to the Victrola, 'borrowed' for the afternoon from his mother after considerable begging. When he puts the needle to the record, it hisses and pops for a second before settling into the grooves, and the slow, smooth sounds of Victor Herbert and his Orchestra fill the room. After another deep breath now or never, Orlando turns and makes a bow, then holds out his hand. And prays, to just about everyone he can think of, that Joaquin doesn't laugh him out of the room. "May I have this dance?" Joaquin blinks slowly. Under any other circumstances, he'd be doubled over laughing himself sick right now. But this is Orlando, and he's done all this for him. "I should remind you that neither of us is terribly good at dancing," Joaquin says even as he slides his hand across Orlando's palm. He's not even sure which of them is going to lead, but he'll leave that to Orlando to figure out. Orlando lets out the breath he hadn't even been aware he was holding. Joaquin's hand is warm over his, the heat of his body even better, when they step closer, then closer again until they're pressed chest to chest and thigh to thigh. "Yeah, well, I don't figure we'll move too much," Orlando murmurs, swaying gently with the low beat. His arm curls automatically around Joaquin's waist. "Be easier on our toes, I think." "Much easier." Joaquin smiles, free hand coming to rest on Orlando's shoulder. He'll never admit it to anyone else, but this is nice. Of course, it leads him to wonder what else Orlando has planned, but he's patient. They move together, Joaquin letting Orlando lead after a few fumbling starts. As they slowly shuffle across the floor, Orlando finds it easier to relax, to let the music dictate their movements. Joaquin's still following his lead, and it's nice, just, y'know, nice. Staring deep into Joaquin's eyes, arm wrapped tight around a lean waist, palms sliding together, all of it easy and light and perfect. It's easy enough to relax and follow along. Easier to lose himself in Orlando's eyes. Joaquin's hand slides until his thumb brushes the side of Orlando's neck. "Have I told you yet today how much I love you?" "N-no," Orlando stammers, biting hard on his lower lip as Joaquin continues to move his fingers in slow circles over Orlando's skin. "But you...you could, um, tell me now." A soft smile crosses Joaquin's face. It takes all his control to keep from kissing Orlando. "I do, you know," he murmurs, sliding his hand a little more until he's cupping the back of Orlando's neck. "Love you so much, baby." "Love you, too." With a soft sigh, Orlando closes the small distance between them, lips conforming easily to Joaquin's. Feels like he's been waiting to do this since Joaquin walked in the door. The fact that Joaquin is Orlando's to kiss and touch, that Joaquin loves him, is sometimes still so amazing that Orlando thinks it has to be a dream. Joaquin parts his lips, strokes his tongue over Orlando's. The music's forgotten for the moment. He can taste clove and mint, and a sweeter, sharper flavor that's all Orlando. If they do nothing else today, Joaquin already knows that this will rank as one of the best birthdays he's ever had. With a shy smile, Orlando eases back, teeth worrying his lower lip as he contemplates his next move. He really doesn't want to fuck this up. Too much riding on it. "You trust me, yeah?" he finally asks, because it's good to start at the beginning. Ease into it, so to speak. "Implicitly," Joaquin replies without hesitation. He does, and they both know it. Gentle fingers trace Orlando's jaw, and Joaquin smiles. "Good." The record stops playing, and Orlando tugs at Joaquin's hands, urging him to the sofa. "Just, uh, sit there, alright?" he says, and gently pushes Joaquin on the cushions before grabbing the box. He's at Joaquin's side a moment later. "Here. Happy birthday." For a moment, Joaquin just holds the box. One eyebrow lifts, and he grins at Orlando. "What'd you get me?" Orlando returns the grin, quick and lethal. "Never know 'til you open it, now, will you?" "Imp." Leaning over for a quick kiss, Joaquin settles back. His fingers make quick work of the paper and ribbons. Then, not looking up, he opens the box. And goes completely still when he sees what's inside. "'Lando..." "If you don't like it, I can return it, it's alright, I won't mind, um..." With a mental shake, Orlando shuts up, ducking his head and glancing at Joaquin through partially lowered lashes. Fuck, but he needs a cigarette. "No," Joaquin says, voice soft as he lifts the heavy silver ring from the box. The square-cut emerald flashes green fire. It's an exact fit when he slides it on his finger. "It's perfect." "Yeah?" Orlando perks up, gaze drawn to the way the ring sits on Joaquin's finger. "Really?" "Really." Finally, Joaquin lifts his head and smiles. He's pretty sure that the ring is far more expensive than Orlando can really afford, but damned if he's going to ruin the moment by asking where Orlando got the money. If he wants Joaquin to know, he'll tell him. "Thank you," he murmurs, tugging Orlando forward for another kiss. "Welcome." Another soft smile as Orlando pulls back. "Looks good, I think." "Yeah." Another grin. Joaquin leans back, drapes his arms over the back of the sofa. "Should I ask what else you have in store for me?" This is it. With another breath to calm fluttering nerves, Orlando offers Joaquin what he hopes is a confident smile. "I can tell you...or I can show you." Finally. "Why don't you show me," Joaquin murmurs, eyes never leaving Orlando's. It's the look more than anything else that gives Orlando the reassurance that he can do this and make it good. No, better than good, he can make this amazing. With surprisingly steady fingers, Orlando reaches out and starts to unbutton Joaquin's shirt, smoothing the sides open and tugging the undershirt up to expose a lean, toned chest and stomach to his hungry gaze. "Lean back," he instructs, and climbs into Joaquin's lap, nuzzling at a sensitive neck seconds later. Christ. Joaquin's head falls back. His hands settle on Orlando's hips, just resting there for the moment. Easy, easy, let him lead. "Jesus, baby," he murmurs when Orlando's lips find a particularly sensitive spot. Just relax and let me, Orlando thinks, tongue laving over the cord throbbing in Joaquin's neck. Gonna make it perfect for you, promise. Nimble, gentle fingers slide along each of Joaquin's ribs, then over his sternum, then down, stroking through the fine hairs of Joaquin's stomach. "'Lando...please..." The words are breathless, needy. Joaquin's hips lift, and his muscles contract under Orlando's delicate touch. Amazing that just this little bit can undo him like this. "Tell me." Soft murmur against heated skin as Orlando's tongue slides along each collarbone, fingers popping open the buttons of Joaquin's trousers, then slipping inside, curling around hard, warm flesh. "Love you," Joaquin whispers. His lashes flutter as his eyes close, and he gives himself over to what Orlando's doing. "Trust me?" Orlando lifts his head for a moment, searching passion-hazed eyes for the truth. It takes a moment to focus, but then Joaquin smiles. "With everything I am." Orlando almost falters at the love in Joaquin's voice, but forces his fingers to wrap around a rigid length, slowly stroking heated skin. His eyes never leave Joaquin's. "I have another gift for you." "Y-yeah?" Joaquin's not at all ashamed of the stammer in his voice. Orlando has the power to completely undo him, and they both know it. "What's that?" "I want to make love to you. Will...will you let me?" It takes a second for the words to penetrate, but then Joaquin goes still. This is something they've discussed in the past, but for it to come up so soon... When he opens his eyes, he looks directly into Orlando's. "Sure you're ready for this, baby?" Joaquin asks softly. This time his voice doesn't falter, his gaze doesn't waver. "I'm sure." He's never been more sure of anything in his life. "Are you?" Joaquin takes a deep breath, slowly releases it. Then again. It's a big step, and they both know it. But this is Orlando, and there's no one he trusts more. "Yeah." Every ounce of tension Orlando'd been holding is slowly released at the look of love and trust shining out of jade eyes. "Gonna make it perfect for you," Orlando promises, sealing the vow with a soft kiss. "I know." Joaquin smiles, strokes Orlando's cheek with the backs of his fingers. Slowly, drawing out each movement, Orlando starts stroking Joaquin's cock again, thumb brushing over the head, smearing moisture. "Lie back and relax," he murmurs, slipping out of Joaquin's lap and to the floor, lowering his lips to meet his fingers, licking and teasing between each stroke. He loves doing this, loves pleasuring Joaquin like this, loves the taste of Joaquin on his tongue, the way Joaquin moans and arches into him, giving him total control. Relax, Orlando had said. Much easier said than done, especially with the way Orlando's tongue keeps flickering over his cock. Joaquin moans softly, one hand dropping to stroke through silky curls. That's it, baby, so good... His head falls back, eyes closed, and he gives himself over to the sheer pleasure of Orlando's touch. There's surrender here, and love, and Orlando's humbled once again that Joaquin trusts him so much, loves him enough to do this. "Love how you look right now," he whispers, a secret for himself alone, breathed along the veins of Joaquin's glistening cock. "Love you so much." Orlando's lips part, then slide and stretch to accommodate thick, full flesh. He moans when the first bittermusk flavor hits his taste buds, slides down until Joaquin's cock hits the back of his throat. His eyes sting with unshed tears, but he pushes past it, focuses on the pleasure he's giving Joaquin, focuses on making this part perfect. A soft whimper escapes Joaquin. With just a touch, Orlando can completely undo him. But when Orlando places his entire focus on Joaquin, there's nothing Joaquin can do to hold out. Nor does he want to. "Love you, baby," he murmurs, eyes mostly closed. His fingers sift through Orlando's hair, petting and stroking, as his hips lift to meet each downward glide of lush lips. Nice and easy, every slither of lips perfect, each flicker of tongue soft and wet. Orlando wants to take his time, undo Joaquin in slow degrees. He braces his hands on Joaquin's thighs, leans in for the next slide, tightening his lips around hard flesh. The taste is overwhelming, addictive. Orlando's limbs feel molten, pliant, dissolving until there's nothing except the hothard press of Joaquin's cock down his throat and the encouraging murmurs Joaquin's making as his hips rise and fall in perfect rhythm with Orlando's mouth. Each slick glide of Orlando's tongue over sensitive flesh spirals Joaquin closer to the edge. It's a slow journey, full of soft moans and whispers. Joaquin knows that he'll only be able to hold on to his control for just so long. He also knows that Orlando will be there to catch him when that control breaks. Closer, closer. Fingers tightening in Orlando's curls only to ease their grip seconds later. Hips lifting, body shifting, encouraging and loving words murmured in a voice raspy with need and love. That's it, Orlando thinks. Just let go. He thinks he may love this part the best -- just before Joaquin comes for him. There's something so perfect about the moment, stretched into infinity as they both try to hold on, just a little longer, neither one wanting the pleasure to end. Long lashes flutter when Orlando lifts his eyes to meet Joaquin's, gaze one of love and longing as his tongue flickerslides along Joaquin's cock one last time. Breath caught in his throat, Joaquin locks eyes with Orlando. Too much. With a soft sigh, he murmurs Orlando's name, slips over the edge. And it's better than the last time. Just like the next time will be better than this one. With small murmurs of appreciation, Orlando slides his lips up along Joaquin's thighs and stomach. He can still taste Joaquin's essence, thick and bitter, on his tongue, but it's a flavor he's grown to love. "So beautiful," he murmurs, lightly raking his nails over Joaquin's hips, paying homage to flushed skin with every kiss. "No..." The word ends in a low moan as Joaquin shudders. Sensitized skin puckers under Orlando's lips, his hands. "You're th'beautiful one," Joaquin says, forcing his lips to form the words. Then Orlando's there, kissing him, and Joaquin can taste himself on Orlando's tongue. "It's you," Orlando murmurs, licking across Joaquin's bottom lip before sitting back. His gaze lingers on Joaquin's skin, flushed and dark, and he aches, with a ferocity that astounds him, to claim every inch as his own. Joaquin chuckles softly, lifting his hand to brush Orlando's cheek with his fingertips. "Didn't your mama teach you not to argue with your elders?" The words are fond even as Joaquin's hand slides behind Orlando's neck to tug him forward for another kiss. Orlando's still smiling when he lifts his head. "Didn't yours teach you not to argue with your birthday gifts?" He trails his fingers along Joaquin's ribs, counting each one in turn, body humming with love and anticipation of giving Joaquin even more. "My birthday gifts don't usually back talk me," Joaquin laughs. Orlando's quick wit is just one of the many things he loves. Then he forgets the laughter in favor of a soft groan when clever fingers find a sensitive spot. "It's not back talk if I'm right," Orlando replies, and winks. He lowers his lips to Joaquin's chest a second later, flicking his tongue over a flat nipple. He'll never get enough of this, of Joaquin's taste, Joaquin's body, the way Joaquin surrenders to him in love and trust. Not if he lives to be a hundred. "Who said..." Joaquin stops, gasps, body arching up as Orlando's teeth rake over his ribs. Orlando's going to be the death of him, but Christ. What a way to die. Then a soft, wet tongue slides up, circles his nipple again, and Joaquin lets his head loll on the back of the sofa. "I say." Another slow glide, pink tongue sneaking out to toy with the soft hairs on Joaquin's chest. "And right now I say you taste amazing," Orlando grins. The nervousness is gone, vanished like the mist after a long night. There's only this need still inside him to make this perfect. "Imp," Joaquin murmurs, fond smile curving his lips. One hand strokes through Orlando's curls, lingering as the silky strands slide over his fingers. If the day ended right now, Joaquin would already count it as a perfect day. Just one of many since... Violently, his mind shies away from finishing that thought, knowing all too well the circumstances that brought him and Orlando together that first time. "And the first thing we really should do is get you completely out of these clothes," Orlando says, tugging at Joaquin's shirt and undershirt. "Raise your arms, love, there you go." The shirts fall to the sofa, and Orlando slides back to his knees. He pauses in the middle of pushing Joaquin's trousers down. "Not cold, are you?" "Mmm..." Joaquin smiles as he lifts his hips. Half-closed eyes watch Orlando, and Joaquin's curious to see just what he'll do next. "I have faith that you can keep me warm." Orlando can't help but smile at the love in Joaquin's every word and movement. It's rather endearing...not that Orlando has any intention of saying so. There are some secrets that are prudent to keep. He finally stands, throat catching at the decadent sight before him. "Christ, but you're beautiful," he breathes, drinking in the sight of lush skin covering a tightly muscled body. His hands are already loosening the knot of his tie. "'Bout time you got undressed," Joaquin murmurs, continues to watch Orlando through half-lidded eyes. He lets his eyes feast on each inch of skin as it's revealed. "Tease..." "How's that?" Orlando deliberately slows down, makes a show out of unbuttoning his shirt. It's nice, more than a little thrilling, to find Joaquin's eyes on him, staring at him like he's the best kind of birthday feast. No matter how many times he's the recipient of such a look, it never fails to make him shiver. Joaquin just smiles, slow and lazy. "It's the birthday boy's privilege to unwrap his presents," he says, eyes raking Orlando's now bare chest. Fuck, but he's beautiful. "However, I like this way much better." "I'll have to remember that," Orlando murmurs, dropping each garment on the floor. His hands are warm, firm, as they slide down his chest and stomach, and it's worth the slight feeling of embarrassment when Joaquin's breath catches. All for you, Orlando thinks, pausing just before he undoes the first button of his trousers. All of this, all of me. "Christ..." A soft whisper, but Joaquin's not sure he's capable of more. Each time he sees Orlando like this, he's struck again by how beautiful he is. And all mine. He continues to sprawl on the sofa, so hard again he's aching, and watch as nimble fingers continue to work at trouser buttons. Finally, Orlando kicks the last of cumbersome clothing aside, and shivers a little when the cool breeze hits bare skin. Just remember to go slowly and breathe, he tells himself, as he walks back to the sofa. "Thank you," he murmurs, stretching completely over Joaquin's body, every part touching, from toes to thighs and cocks to chest and shoulders. "For?" One eyebrow lifts as Joaquin shifts until he's lying back, Orlando comfortably stretched atop him. Not exactly a position he's used to, tending towards a more dominant role in all his relationships, but still... He thinks he could get used to it as a change. "Letting me do this. For you...for us." For loving me and trusting me, but Orlando says none of those things. He still thinks it's nothing short of a miracle that Joaquin's allowing him to do this, to claim him like this. "Told you, baby," Joaquin says in a soft voice, fingers brushing silky curls from Orlando's forehead. "We're equals. There is no one I trust as much as you." "I know." Just as Joaquin knows the feeling's mutual. Orlando trusts Josh with his life and his secrets...but he trust Joaquin with his heart, and that's a far more dangerous thing. "Still relaxed, yeah?" he asks, and lowers his head to brush a soft kiss across waiting lips as passion-clumsy fingers seek for the small stopper he'd placed on the floor earlier. "Yeah." The kiss is returned, soft, slow, and graceful fingers slide up Orlando's back. Yes, Joaquin thinks he could definitely get used to this side of Orlando. He won't think about what he knows Orlando's hand is seeking. Time enough for that in a bit. Orlando uses the kisses as distraction, carefully parting Joaquin's lips with his tongue as he pours a little of the oil over his fingers. "Could get used to this," he says, nudging Joaquin's thighs further apart with his knee. His fingers, slick and trembling, trail along Joaquin's inner thigh a second later. "Just relax," he whispers, distracting Joaquin with another kiss as he presses a finger up and in, gentle and slow. The gentle invasion draws a soft hiss, and Joaquin has to fight to keep from tensing up. But he remains relaxed, letting the kisses lull him as Orlando's finger slides deeper. Alright, yeah, this isn't so bad. In fact, it's almost pleasurable as long as Orlando keeps kissing him. Then that gentle finger brushes a spot deep inside Joaquin, and he jerks, fingers digging into Orlando's back, hips bucking. "Yeah, it's nice, isn't it?" Orlando murmurs, dragging his finger over the bundle of nerves in a tortuously slow motion. He remembers how he'd felt when Joaquin had first done this for him, and seeing the same feelings echoing in Joaquin's expression is priceless beyond measure. After a few minutes of brushing and twisting, careful to keep each movement as gentle as he can, Orlando slowly pushes in another finger. Joaquin's warm, tight, overwhelming him in the best of ways, and he's not sure if he'll survive anything more than this. "Love you," he manages, breathing the words into their next kiss. "Love you..." Joaquin's surprised he can manage coherency. Hell, he's surprised he can manage anything at the moment with what Orlando's doing to him. It's still a little uncomfortable, but that's fading quickly with the way Orlando takes his time. Love you so much, baby, trust you always. Then Orlando's fingers do something and Joaquin moans deep in his throat, hips bucking in response. Relax, yeah, got you... Orlando keeps the litany in his head, lets Joaquin know with every twist and slide of his fingers that he's going to take his time, make this perfect. He scissors and brushes the bundle of nerves, careful not to linger too long. He wants Joaquin begging for more, begging for Orlando's cock to fill him. He splashes a little more oil on his fingers, slipping and sliding and stretching tight skin between soft kisses. "Feels good, doesn't it?" "Fuck, baby..." Joaquin's breath hisses between his teeth as he arches. The sensations rippling through him are intense, almost unbearable, and each shift of Orlando's fingers sends a new shockwave up his spine. "Tell me when you're ready, alright?" Orlando breathes, twisting his fingers in tiny circles. "Look so hot like this, should see how beautiful you are...love you." And it's true, every word. Joaquin looks so unbearably beautiful like this...all tousled and sweaty and begging for Orlando. "Lando...baby...." Joaquin groans again, body writhing beneath Orlando's. Doesn't care how shameless it might be. Dignity is something he's long since forgotten (and something he's not likely to regain if Orlando doesn't stop tormenting him). "Please..." "Shhh..." Joaquin whimpers in protest when Orlando slides his fingers out, but he silences the whimper with another kiss. "I've got you." Always. Orlando's hands are trembling again as he coats his cock with even more oil, but he supposes he's allowed. Not every day that a man takes the virginity of the man he loves. "Just..." Orlando takes a deep breath to steady himself as he positions his cock against Joaquin's opening. "Look at me...and relax. I love you." He starts to slide in, infinitesimally slow, biting his lip to keep from pushing into the promise of all that tight heat. Ah, God. Joaquin's fingers dig deep into the muscles of Orlando's back. "Fuck," he breathes, fights to keep from tensing. Even with all he knows, all he's done, he didn't expect it to feel like this. It hurts, even as gentle as Orlando's been. It's on the tip of his tongue to tell Orlando to stop when soft lips cover his and a tongue curls along the roof of his mouth. Relax, love, let me... and Orlando pushes forward just a little more, trembling with the effort of not moving faster. His tongue mimics his shallow thrusts, and he's trying as hard as he can to make this good, to make it perfect. Joaquin's on the verge of tensing again when Orlando's mouth slides across his jaw. He barely hears the "Relax" that's whispered a split second before warm lips touch the spot just below his ear. Just like that, his body goes limp, boneless, and he arches up hard beneath Orlando. "That's it, love," Orlando whispers, crooning encouragement along the shell of Joaquin's ear. "Doing so good...you feel so good...love you..." Soft lips caress the same spot again as Orlando carefully pushes the rest of the way in, moaning a little at how incredibly tight and hot Joaquin is around him. "Just..." A deep breath to keep his vision from swimming, and he brushes a few matted strands of hair from Joaquin's forehead, gazing into glazed eyes. "Tell me when I can move, alright?" "Not..." Joaquin stops, swallows. Tries to smile, but he's pretty sure it comes out as a grimace. "Not quite how...expected it to feel..." He tries for another smile, then Orlando's lips are on that spot again, teasing, coaxing, and all Joaquin can do is moan, soft and low. "Baby, please...." "Is that a yes?" Orlando has no idea how he's holding himself still, but his limbs are trembling with the effort of not moving, of allowing Joaquin to get used to the invasion. He remembers vividly how it had felt the first time Joaquin had done this to him. He deliberately rubs his mouth just under Joaquin's ear again, exploiting the sensitive spot. Hopes and prays that it will allow Joaquin to relax enough to let him move. Ah, fuck... That spot's going to be the death of him. Especially now that Orlando's found it. Took him long enough, Joaquin thinks before warm lips drift over that spot again, and he's lost. Completely and utterly lost. And totally Orlando's. "Please," Joaquin murmurs, head turning to blindly seek Orlando's lips, one foot braced on the sofa as he pushes up. That's it, Orlando thinks, and meets the movement halfway, pushing down and circling his hips with gentle, small motions. He covers Joaquin's lips with his own, deepening the kiss, and starts a shallow, slow rhythm. It's a struggle not to lose himself in the heat and slick feel of Joaquin's muscles tightening around him. Yeah, definitely doesn't feel at all like Joaquin expected. He digs his fingers into Orlando's back, opens his mouth to say something... And Orlando's hips shift. Just like that, Joaquin is violently reminded of that spot deep inside him. "Fuck," he breathes, incapable of louder speech. Back arching, hips bucking, blunt nails raking across Orlando's sweat-slicked skin, Joaquin can't do anything but give himself over to what Orlando's doing to him. "That's it," Orlando croons, near wordless encouragement, as he braces himself on his hands with the next thrust. The tension thrumming through him is unbearable, skin stretched so tight it's just this short of painful. With another deep kiss, he starts moving again, careful to brush the small bundle of nerves with every roll of his hips, sweat trailing from his brow at the strain of holding back. The pain mixes with pleasure, and Joaquin's not sure he can stand much more of it. His body moves with Orlando's, the two of them finding a steady rhythm after a few moments, and Joaquin can't help the low moan that rises in his throat. "Please..." It's as if the plea is the final thread that snaps Orlando's tightly wound control. "Love you..." he murmurs, and fumbles between them to grasp Joaquin's cock, working the shaft with jerky motions that somewhat match the harder rhythm of his hips. Joaquin's under him, all writhing heat and desperate moans, and Orlando's not at all certain how long he's going to last. "Love..." The rest of it is lost, but Joaquin knows that Orlando doesn't need to hear it to know what he was going to say. Least Joaquin hopes Orlando doesn't need to hear it. Right now, he's a bit incapable of speech. Godyespleasebaby... Come on, comeon... The words are a jumble, a bright blur that's punctuated by more frenzied thrusts, more tangled kisses. Orlando can feel Joaquin tightening around him, and the sensations coursing through him are so sublime that he knows nothing else will ever compare. He's trying so hard to hold on long enough for Joaquin to come with him, but the way Joaquin's moving and bucking underneath him is stretching his nerves to the breaking point. One thrust, then another, and then Joaquin arches into him, sweaty-slick and clenching tight around his cock, and it's too much. He's splintered into a million razor-sharp pieces. S'alright, though, long as Orlando's there with him. And who needs to breathe, anyway? "Loveyou," Joaquin manages to mumble, face pressed against Orlando's neck, arms limp around his waist. He's going to be sore as hell later, but right now he's not moving. And there's not a damn thing that can make him move. Orlando slumps over Joaquin's body, too drained to even think about moving, even though he knows he really should. "You too," he yawns, messily kissing Joaquin's ear. Joaquin can't help but chuckle. "Wore you out, did I?" "Hush, M'recov'ring," Orlando mumbles, tightening his arms around Joaquin to silence him. Not that he thinks it's going to do much good, but at least he can say he's tried. Recovering. Right. Joaquin chuckles again, but is smart enough to try to muffle this one. Not that he thinks he's succeeded. "Bastard." Orlando pokes Joaquin's side and glares down at him, more than a little pleased that his neck can support his head again. "And you love me," Joaquin fires back with an unrepentant grin. The grin fades just a bit when he shifts. "You alright? Ah, fuck, I was too rough with you, wasn't I?" Orlando could kick himself, he truly could. He never meant to hurt Joaquin. Should've gone slowly, shouldn't've gotten carried away. "Baby, stop, yeah?" Joaquin catches Orlando's head in his hands, looks into his eyes. Tries his best to keep Orlando focused and calm. "I'm alright. A little sore, but that's to be expected. I'll just try and remember not to sit down too fast tonight." "Got too carried away," Orlando frowns, but doesn't look away. He never could, not around Joaquin. "Wanted to make it perfect for you, not hurt you." "You did make it perfect." And now Joaquin smiles. His fingertips slide across Orlando's forehead, brush damp curls back. "Seem to remember you being a bit sore your first time, too." "More'n a bit," Orlando admits. His smile is strained, but hopefully Joaquin takes it in the spirit it was meant. "I know. And I'm sorry about that." He studies Orlando's eyes, lets his fingers sift through dark curls. "It's alright." Orlando turns his head, nuzzles Joaquin's fingers. "Was worth it." Gentle fingers capture Orlando's chin, turn his head back so he's looking at Joaquin again. "And so was this," Joaquin says, quietly, calmly, before brushing a kiss over Orlando's lips. "Alright." Orlando strokes the backs of his fingers across Joaquin's cheeks and throat, smile coming a little easier now that he knows Joaquin's fine. "Thank you." Another soft kiss, then Joaquin smiles. He can feel Orlando relaxing against him, which is good. "Now...is this where I'm supposed to ask if this is everything, or did you have something else planned?" "I think this is the part where I tell you that you're greedy," Orlando grins, pressing a last, swift kiss to Joaquin's lips before standing and looking for the cloth he'd placed next to the sofa. They do need to clean up a little bit before the family dinner tonight. "Only for you." Joaquin's grin is wicked, and he makes no effort to move. So what if he's all sprawled out, looking (he's sure) thoroughly debauched? There are worse things. "Better be." Orlando's eyes darken as he walks back to the sofa, and leans over Joaquin. "Think I should keep you here like this," he says, raking a hot glance over shimmering skin and a lithe, toned body. The idea that all of this is his still catches him by surprise most days. He still has no idea what he's done to deserve such a gift. "Maybe you should," Joaquin murmurs a scant second before he surges up, one hand snaking behind Orlando's neck to tug him in for a long kiss. Fucking lethal, man, those lips. Joaquin's convinced they should be labeled a deadly weapon. Orlando falls back on top on Joaquin in a graceless heap, unable to stop the helpless laugh that bubbles up. "Both sticky now." Not that he's truly complaining, but he's got a reputation to uphold and all. A smirk curls Joaquin's mouth. "Your fault that I'm all sticky," he fires back, fingers trailing along Orlando's ribs, dancing over the ticklish spot he knows is there. "Thought I'd share the wealth." "You begged for it." Orlando tries unsuccessfully to squirm out of the way of questing fingers, but it's not like he has a lot of room. "Stop that." "No," is all Joaquin says, still grinning, and now his fingers move faster, dig just a tad deeper. "'Quin..." It's self-preservation, really, that has Orlando wriggling off of Joaquin and sprawling on the dusty floor with muffled thump. Smoothly, Joaquin rolls to his side, props up on one elbow. Grins down at Orlando, who looks entirely too cute all rumpled like that. "Yes?" "Fucker," Orlando grumbles as he sits up, resting his elbows on his knees. It would be too easy to glare at Joaquin, so he tries not to. "See if I ever get you another birthday gift." "You will." There's no conceit there. Joaquin doesn't need it, not with Orlando. He rolls off the sofa, kneels beside Orlando, lets his smile soften. "You will because you love me, and you know I worship the fucking ground you walk on, baby." Try as he might, Orlando knows he can't stop the blush. "Yeah?" he asks, glancing through lowered lashes into Joaquin's eyes. "Yeah." One hand reaches up, thumb tracing over Orlando's eyebrow. That blush is one of the sexiest things Joaquin has ever seen, though he's never admitted it. "You keep me grounded, 'Lando. And I love you. Don't ever forget that." "I won't," and it's the purest vow Orlando knows he'll ever make. He places his hand over Joaquin's, lets the strength flow into him, gives it back with a soft kiss. Eyes closed, Joaquin rests his forehead against Orlando's for a moment. Then his lashes flicker, and he opens his eyes. "Thank you for all this." "Anything for you," and Orlando means it with everything in him. He brushes his lips across Joaquin's eyelids in a whisper-soft caress. "Wish I could keep you here." "Someday." It's a promise that Joaquin intends to see fulfilled before he dies. One day. "'Til then," he continues, winking, "I'll just be content to keep letting you walk in front so I can look at your ass in those trousers." Orlando smirks, and finally grabs the cloth, swiping it over the worst of the sticky-slick mess over his stomach and thighs. "Like you ever let anyone in front of you." One eyebrow lifts. "Don't tell me you're adding your voice to Russell's and Ridley's now." He takes the towel from Orlando and attempts to clean himself. "Were they planning another revolt?" "Not after the knockdown we had last time." Joaquin allows himself a small smile at the memory. Stupid bastards. "Now they seem to think I shouldn't go anywhere without at least one of the boys in front of me." "You're our leader," Orlando shrugs. Both his undershirt and dress shirt are hopelessly wrinkled, but he shrugs back into them anyway. Even though he'd love nothing better than to stay here, naked and warm in Joaquin's embrace, they should be thinking about getting on. Joaquin makes no move to get back into his own clothes. Instead, he watches Orlando, wondering for a brief moment how the act of getting dressed can be so damn erotic. "So you agree," he finally says, eyes meeting Orlando's, "that one of the boys should take the bullet meant for me." Orlando pauses in the act of buttoning his trousers, giving Joaquin a careful, long look. "You're our leader," he repeats, only softer. "Keeping you safe is our job. Making sure it doesn't come to bullets is yours." "There will be bullets, 'Lando. And knives. Other things, too." Joaquin shakes his head and runs a hand through his hair before reaching for his trousers. "It's the life we've chosen, you know that. And sooner or later, we're going to come up against Maranzano's men. Even I can't stop that from happening." "And when it happens we'll be ready, and we'll protect you," Orlando replies. He steps in front of Joaquin, cupping a bristled chin with gentle fingers. "There isn't any of us that wouldn't die for you, 'Quin. But mostly, we just want to live well for you and to do you proud. Don't forget that." "You already do me proud," Joaquin replies, smiling as he touches Orlando's cheek. "All of you." "Then I'm happy." The kiss is a light one, full of love and promise. "So am I." With a gentle tug, Joaquin pulls Orlando into a tight hug, nuzzling his neck as he does so. And he is happy. Happier than he's been in a long time, and that's saying something. He just wishes... He just wishes River was here to see it. And, for the first time in months, that thought doesn't hurt quite as much. Onto Christmas Eve
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