|fool in the rain
Orlando wanted to get out of Wellington on their day off. Didn't want to surf, didn't want to go jump off something tall, just wanted to go somewhere that wasn't full of strangers and cast mates and cameras and pretty birds who wanted to get him into bed and were relentless about pursuing him. He spent the entire week before talking endlessly about how he wanted to go somewhere quiet, somewhere without anything but trees and sheep, until Elijah threw half a bagel at him over lunch and told him he was starting to sound like Viggo. Dom tossed his apple core at Lij and said to Orli that he didn't see what was so great about sheep, anyway. Orlando just shrugged.
Despite all his talk about wanting to be alone, Orli called Dom quarter to six that morning. Dom's mobile went, skittered across the bedside table, shaking Dom out of a sound and much needed lie-in, and when he answered it, Orlando begged Dom to keep him company. "Where're you going?" Dom mumbled.
"I don't know," Orlando answered. "But I want you to come with me anyway."
He hung up before Dom could tell him to go to hell, he was staying in bed all day and no amount of bribery could get him out.
When Orli pulled up in front of Dom's flat twenty minutes later, Dom was sitting on the front steps, barefoot and unshaven but fully-clothed, smoking a fag from the pack he'd thieved off Elijah the other night. Dom flipped the butt away, bounced up from the stoop, and was halfway down the walk before Orlando could even stop the car; before he could get out, Dom was sliding into the passenger seat, slamming the door behind him and propping his feet on the dashboard.
"You're a bloody cunt, Orli," Dom told him. "Wake me up when we get to your place without people."
He passed out inelegantly against the window, keys and crumpled pack of smokes clutched in his left hand. Orlando took the only road that he knew led out of Wellington.
It had been raining all night. It wasn't at the moment, but it had been and it was going to again. The trees had that just-washed look, and the sky was still gray and heavy. Dom mumbled in his sleep, indistinctly, and Orlando turned off the main road onto a tiny side road that looked promising, one that was hardly paved, winding up into hills through thick trees. At the first hole in the road, Dom jolted awake, cursed Orlando's mother and his ancestors and his stupid first name. Orli said nothing, cocked a crooked grin in Dom's direction. Dom muttered something in German, and cracked the window and lit another fag.
About a mile down the unpaved road, which was turning out to be less unpaved and more bare dirt and rocks and big fuckin' holes, drops of rain started to hit the windows of the car. Dom rolled his window down all the way and stuck his head out. Orlando turned the windshield wipers on.
When he was sufficiently damp, Dom pulled himself back into the car, dripping all over Orlando's leather upholstery, and stared at Orlando with a question on his face. "Do you actually know where you're going?" is the one he asked; Orli wasn't sure it was the one Dom had wanted to ask. Orli wasn't sure he wanted to know what the other question was, either, and he knew for a fact that he didn't have an answer - if it was what he thought it was.
"Not really," he shrugged. "I mostly just wanted to drive without Elijah whining about the music and Billy whining about my driving skills and Viggo whining about how much petrol my car eats up."
Dom looked at him like he'd gone starkers. "Orlando, you're a bloody cu - "
And then they hit a hole in the road about the size of Manchester, and immediately following that the car stopped moving forward and the engine made unfortunate grinding noises, and immediately after that the skies opened up and the rain that had been threatening all morning finally came down in buckets.
"Bugger everything all to hell," Dom said. "Particularly one Orlando Bloom, if you're listening to me, Lord Almighty. He really deserves it more than everything else."
"Get out and help me push."
"Not for love or money. I'll drive. You push."
When Orlando opened the door, there was a river of mud and branches and rainwater pouring down the road. The hole they were stuck in was big enough that he could have gone swimming in it. Dom had crawled awkwardly over the gearshift to sit in the driver's seat and as Orlando went from completely dry to looking like a drowned rat in 15 seconds flat, Orli could see his shoulders shaking with suppressed laughter. He took two steps towards the back of the car and stopped dead.
There is something to be said for standing in the middle of a rainstorm in the middle of nowhere in New Zealand. Orlando wasn't sure what he wanted to say about it, but there was something, for certain, that could be said, if one wanted to say something. He knew he wasn't the smartest guy, knew he was getting by on his looks and not his brains, knew that Dom or Viggo or even Elijah would have something more insightful to say about nearly drowning in a downpour in rural New Zealand. But that didn't mean he didn't feel anything profound, and so he wrenched open the driver's side door, grabbed Dom by the front of his shirt, and pinned him up against the car.
Then he kissed him.
Dom shoved him off; Orlando went arse over teakettle into something less like a puddle and more like a small ocean.
"What the bloody fuck do you think you're doing?" Dom hissed, rain running down his face in thick trails, pasting his hair to his forehead. Orlando sat in the mud and tried to think of a good answer. He didn't have one, so he stayed on the ground and let Dom stomp back through the rivers of rain to the car door. Dom tried to pull it open, and as the driver's side door on Orlando's car was wont to do, it stuck. Dom stumbled backwards, surprised, tripped on his own feet, and slid down into a mud puddle just slightly smaller than Orlando's.
Dom was sputtering, crouched on his hands in knees, his face turned away from Orli, when a large handful of mud hit him soundly in the back of the head. His head whipped around, and with a snarl, he'd closed the distance between them, tackling Orlando into the road. Dom's hands on his shoulders and his hips pressing snuggly against Orlando's, Orli was flat on his back in the mud and the branches and the rain, and he couldn't tell if it was the rain or the drops from Dom's hair that were hitting his face.
"D'you mean to tell me, mate, that you dragged me all the way out here so you could molest me?" Dom asked. He lowered his face to Orlando's, whispered in Orli's ear. "You could have done that in my warm, dry, comfortable bed, you wanker."
Then Dom kissed him.
It was brutal, rain pouring down on both of them, and Dom's teeth sinking into Orlando's lower lip while their teeth clashed together. Dom's mouth was hot and wetter than the rain, and his hands had gone from pinning Orlando's shoulders on the road to yanking at the button on his trousers. Dom's hand was wet from the rain and Orlando shuddered when it closed on his cock, yanking viciously. Orli ran his tongue along Dom's teeth, his own hands trying to find the waistband of Dom's jeans.
He could feel Dom's cock pressing hot and hard against his leg, and Dom's hand was stroking his own cock intently while Dom's tongue tried to crawl down Orlando's throat. When he closed on the cool metal button, he worked it open one-handed, the other hand wrapping fingers around Dom's neck. Dom's cock was heavy and when Orli tightened his grip and twisted, Dom whined against his mouth, increased the pressure of his hand on Orlando.
Orlando could feel his release coming, and he counted the strokes, one, two, three, four, and he was coming all over Dom's hand and his own stomach and he'd somehow lost the ability to count. Dom thrust up against his fist, and Orlando sped up, kissing Dom so hard he would leave bruises, and another half dozen strokes and Dom was coming hard, biting Orli's neck and hissing his name in his ear. When Orlando had pulled everything from Dom's softening cock that he could, Dom collapsed across his chest, one hand fisted in Orlando's hair and the other, sticky and damp, against Orlando's cheek.
The rain was still coming down in sheets and both of them were covered in mud and sweat and come, and Orlando couldn't really see any reason to move. They lay in the road together until a farmer drove up and offered to help them drag the car out of the hole - after he'd made sure they weren't victims of a horrible accident. Dom told him that it was only a problem of Orlando's insatiable lust, and Orlando cuffed him in the back of the head. The farmer nodded sagely, didn't ask any more questions, and pried the car, severely dented, out of what turned out to be nearly a complete ditch in middle of the road.
Orlando nearly hit a sheep on the way home because he couldn't keep his hands out of Dom's lap. Dom called him a bloody stupid cunt again and told him that they could have avoided all these disasters if they'd just stayed home, well away from sheep. Sheep, Dom said grumpily, were entirely the problem. Orli didn't quite understand what he meant by that, but he thought it had something to do with Dom being soaking wet and freezing cold, and so he agreed anyway.
When they got back to Wellington, Orlando pinned Dom to his warm, dry, comfortable bed and shut him up about sheep entirely.