The warning comes a split second before Orlando falls on the sofa practically on top of Karl, popcorn spilling everywhere. "Bugger off," Karl half-heartedly grumps, but scoots over on worn cushions just far enough that Orlando's plastered against him, instead of on him. "You love it," Orlando replies, cozying in as Karl wraps an arm around his shoulders. He hands Karl the bowl. "What're we watching, then?" "Fucked if I know, some bad sci-fi looking flick from the looks of it. I just flipped the telly on," Karl says, crunching loudly as he pops a handful of popcorn in his mouth. He laughs at Orlando's obvious grimace. "This was your idea, love." "Having a night in watching movies, yes. Bad Sci-Fi Channel movies about radioactive creatures, no." "Are you maligning my bread and butter?" Orlando is supremely unimpressed at Karl's glower – familiarity breeding contempt and all. Besides which, Karl's all bark most of the time. "And if I am?" "I'll have to think of suitable retribution." "You wouldn't," Orlando replies confidently, and steals a handful of popcorn. "Maybe I could make you cut the grass next." "I cut the grass last time." "Could make you my slave for the night," Karl drawls thoughtfully, but Orlando can see the gleam of mischief in his eyes easily enough. Like he'd ever object to that, mind. "Now you're talking." "Dress you up like a stripper." "Kinky, I approve," Orlando nods, and waggles his eyebrows. "I could pole dance for you." "You don't know how to pole dance." "There is that," Orlando replies, rubbing his chin as he pretends to ponder the question. "I could act all contrite and flutter my lashes like a girl, get back in your good graces." "You're as pretty as one, but I don't think you'd be much good at that, either," but Karl grins a buttery, shiny grin as he says it. "You don't flutter so well." When the man had a point... "I've got it, then." "Go on." "When's the last time we had sex on the sofa?" Karl taps a finger to his lips as if in thought, but his lips curve in a smile. "Last night?" "Far too long," Orlando decides, and twists enough to capture Karl's laugh with his lips, and pushes him back into the cushions. Karl has just enough time to set the bowl on the carpet before Orlando covers him completely. The kiss is open, slow, with Orlando grinding down, Karl snaking his hands under Orlando's shirt to rub over his back. "We flippin' for it?" Karl asks, and nips at Orlando's throat. "I am on top," Orlando points out, but the reply is muffled as their lips meet again in a heated, leisurely kiss. Karl's dark look sends all of the blood in Orlando's body racing towards his cock. "Get on with it, then." They make short work of flinging off clothing, both of them needy, impatient. The second Karl pushes his shorts off, Orlando presses back against him, biting along his collarbone as he feels along the cushions of the sofa for the lube, discarded from the night before. He grins in triumph when his fingers close over the bottle, but the grin turns into a moan when Karl takes it from him and coats his fingers, wrapping them snug over Orlando's cock. "Jesus..." "Just Karl, thanks," Karl grins, and tightens his fingers. White spots dance behind Orlando's eyes. "C'mon," he urges, and slides off the sofa, knee knocking into the bowl of popcorn and spilling it all over the carpet as he kneels and Karl twists, scooting his ass to the edge of the sofa, and wrapping his legs around Orlando's waist. Popcorn crunches under Orlando's weight when he shifts, pushes forward, the head of his cock breaching Karl's ass in a slow forward slide. Karl curls a hand over Orlando's shoulder, brings him down for an open-mouthed, messy kiss as Orlando starts to move, sliding deep, then pulling almost all the way out before repeating the motion. Sweat beads on Orlando's forehead, slides into his eyes, down his cheeks, momentarily blinds him as they settle into a disjointed rhythm, Karl meeting each forward thrust halfway. Karl's eyes are almost black, lips bruised, hair messy, and there's a fine sheen covering that remarkable chest. Orlando can taste soap and salt when he bends his head, rubs his tongue along Karl's shoulder. His balls slap against Karl's ass with every movement, and Orlando can feel the jack-rabbit thudding of Karl's heart against his own. Orlando has no idea how long they move together, each thrust hard as he snaps his hips forward, tangles his tongue with Karl's, pants in Karl's mouth with each kiss. Feels like an eternity, but it doesn't last nearly long enough. Sex with Karl never does. Another kiss, another thrust, and Karl tightens around him, the motion reflexive as Orlando feels Karl shudder and come, spattering over his stomach and Karl's in a sticky glide. Orlando doesn't last much longer before he fractures, shivers wracking his body as he slumps over Karl, dimly aware of Karl awkwardly patting his back as they both try to catch their breath. When they finally peel away from each other, Orlando's got popcorn embedded in his knees and there's come and lube what feels like everywhere. "Y'think that'll come out of the carpet?" "Hmm?" Karl pauses in the act of cleaning himself off with his t-shirt and glances down. "Maybe? We got the ice cream and fudge stains out well enough." "True," Orlando nods, and stretches, bones creaking with the movement. "I think I need a rinse. Care to join me?" "You'll do anything to get out of watching this film, won't you?" Karl laughs, but allows Orlando to haul him off the sofa. They almost tumble to the floor before righting themselves, both laughing into the soft kiss. "We're changing the channel when we get back, just so you know," Orlando smiles, and swats Karl's ass on the way out of the living room.
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