Hooligan (jedusor) wrote in suffer_slash,
Hooligan
jedusor
suffer_slash

Truth Be Told

wingscythe12 and I decided that this pic needed to be ficced. Upon looking at the picture again, I realized that his expression is rather different than it was at that point in the fic. If anyone complains about this, I have only this to say: write your own bloody fic.

Warning: not for the children. Please don't click if you're under 18 (although both authors are) or don't want to see two men in compromising positions.

Without further ado, I present:


Truth Be Told
Authors: jedusor and wingscythe12
Pairing: J/O
Genre: Angst/romance
Rating: NC-17
Archive: Just let us know.
Feedback: Much appreciated!
Disclaimer: Lies! It's all LIES!!!

Orlando was tired.
The plane ride to Los Angeles was hell. First, all the flight attendants were female. He hated when that happened. Then, they ran out of Mountain Dew. Then, to top it all off, he was sitting next to Johnny the whole way, and he couldn’t do a damn thing about it. As well-known actors, they were both very aware of being watched everywhere. That was why they’d had to be so careful during filming. But there was no need to be careful anymore, since there was no longer anything to hide. Perhaps the bitter aftertaste in Orlando’s mouth didn’t have so much to do with the fact that he hated root beer.
Orlando glanced sidelong at Johnny, whose attention was focused on the in-flight movie. It was Chocolat. Orlando remembered an incident Johnny had described to him that had occurred during the filming of that movie, and smiled to himself. Then he recalled the circumstances under which he had heard the story, and the grin faded. Johnny loved chocolate.
Johnny suddenly met his gaze, his face impassive. Try as he might, Orlando couldn't find any hint of emotion behind those eyes that matched the chocolate Johnny loved so much. They stared at each other. Orlando had just gathered up the nerve to speak when a stewardess came by, offering drinks. Orlando couldn’t help but notice that they’d been offered drinks a good deal more often than the rest of the passengers. He groaned, annoyed.

Amusement, followed closely by arousal, flitted across Johnny’s face at the sound of Orlando’s groan. He knew the young Brit tended to be annoyed by the excess female attention he garnered wherever he went. Johnny hadn’t had as much attention when he first started acting. It was really only since “Pirates of the Caribbean” released in theaters that he was gathering female fans, so he was able to view it with more detachment than Orlando seemed to.
"No more, thanks," Orlando told her, flashing his dazzling smile. Johnny wondered if the boy really knew the effect he had on girls. Not only girls, either. He surreptitiously adjusted his magazine to cover certain areas.
To distract himself from the problem forming in his lap, Johnny turned to Orlando, a bland smile on his face. "So, back to the Caribbean, eh?" he said, sliding into his pirate voice.
"I hope they don't make me wear that hat again," Orlando muttered. "It gave me headaches." Johnny, remembering the events surrounding the filming of that particular scene, thought that perhaps the hat hadn't been the culprit of the headaches. “I’m looking forward to seeing Keira again, though.”
Johnny felt a flare of jealousy at the mention of the beautiful actress. He and Orlando hadn’t kept in touch, either, but Orlando wasn’t lamenting that loss. Then again, Orlando and Keira had parted ways as friends and costars. Johnny wished he could have left Orlando the same way. Although in a way, he was glad.


Orlando tossed back the shot of whiskey, feeling it slide smoothly down his throat. The first two shots had been a little difficult, but after the fifth, it was like water. Potent water, yes, but still not bad. He sneaked a look across the bar. Johnny was engaged in conversation with Geoffrey. They were each holding a bottle, and they both looked deadly serious.
Orlando wished that Johnny would get drunk enough not to remember anything that happened that night, drunk enough that Orlando could satisfy the lust that had been coursing through his veins ever since he had laid eyes on Johnny earlier that day. Did lust course through veins? It didn't matter. He downed another shot.
Unfortunately, Johnny never drank much. Orlando knew this for a fact. The only time he had ever seen Johnny really drunk was... well... he wasn't going to think about that.

Johnny glanced across the smoke-filled room, watching as Orlando set the shot glass down and waved for another. Geoffrey followed his gaze, seeming unsurprised at the object of his scrutiny. “That’s what I’m talking about, Johnny.”
Johnny drained his bottle and sighed. “I can’t. I can’t, and he can’t, and… no.”
A faint smirk formed on Geoffrey's face. "Can't? A little young for those sorts of problems, aren't you? Orlando certainly is."
Johnny snorted into his new bottle. "You know what I mean, Geoff." He averted his gaze from Geoffrey's, knowing that if he looked too long, Geoffrey would see what he was really feeling. Geoff was no fool.
Johnny turned his gaze to Orlando again, this time with a critical eye. It wasn't like he hadn't had anyone prettier; he had. But there was something about Orlando that drew him in. Something about the way he could be passionate and yet lighthearted, funny and yet serious, mature and yet boyish. And that made Orlando light up from within, in Johnny's eyes. He felt his muscles relaxing. The alcohol was kicking in.

Orlando was almost positive the room shouldn’t be spinning.
Rooms couldn’t spin, he couldn’t hold his liquor, and that liquor couldn’t wash away memories of Johnny. Memories of Johnny's eyes, roving up and down his body; of Johnny's hands caressing his sweat-slicked skin; of Johnny's hair tickling his shoulder blades as Johnny's mouth traced a path down his trembling back. He snorted. He hadn't let his thoughts linger on Johnny so much since . . . He shook his head. He was drunk.
So drunk, in fact, that he saw Johnny's face looming over him, and Johnny's hand touching his shoulder, and- "Come on, Orli. You've had enough to drink."
“Stating the obvious, aren’t you?” Orlando slurred. He stood up, but forgot to unhook his foot from around one of the barstool's legs, and fell flush against Johnny, arms hung around his shoulders, chin jabbing into his chest as he blinked up owlishly into Johnny's gaze.
Johnny grabbed the counter with one hand to stabilize himself. It was hard to focus on balance with Orlando hanging from his neck, but he managed it. "Maybe I should walk you to your room." Just so Orlando wouldn't end up face down in the lobby water fountain, he tried to tell himself.
They managed to get into the elevators without further incident. The buttons were a minor distraction- Johnny had to perform an undignified lunge to prevent Orlando from pressing them all at once- but overall, things went well. Until they got to Orlando's door.
"Where's your key?" he asked. Orlando blinked, trying valiantly to search his muddled brain for the necessary fact that was hidden somewhere between the waves of whiskey.
"Back pocket," he said decisively. Johnny waited for him to unwind one of his arms from about his neck to get the key, but he didn’t move. Johnny frowned.

"Aren't you going to get it?"
Orlando grinned impishly. "You get it."
Johnny's mind went blank. That wasn't a good thing. He needed rational thought right now. Unfortunately, that didn't seem to be an option. Gingerly, he slid his hand around Orlando's waist and into the pocket. It was empty.
"Other pocket," Orlando whispered. Johnny's brain told him to stop right there, but his hands had different ideas. His other arm snaked around the young man's waist and pulled out the key. He tried to turn back to the door, but his traitorous body refused to listen. He stayed right where he was, holding Orlando.

Orlando was floating in a haze of drunken arousal, and enjoying every minute of it. He was free to let go of the tight reins he'd held on his impulses all day and just do what he'd been wanting to do since he'd walked down the aisle in the airplane to find Johnny sitting in the seat next to his. It was exhilarating.
Johnny looked as if he were thinking the same thoughts Orlando knew would have been on his mind, had he been sober. However, he was not sober, and he could kiss Johnny without having to pay any heed to reason. Which was precisely what he did.
The hindrance the whiskey had put on his limbs and his thought processes hadn't touched his tongue and lips, apparently, because it was very easy to coax Johnny's lips apart and slide his tongue into the warm mouth that he hadn't tasted in what felt like an eternity.

Johnny was kissing Orlando. There was something wrong with this situation, he knew, but he couldn't remember what it was and he didn't want to waste brain cells figuring it out. Orlando's tongue slipped into his mouth, and one of them groaned. Johnny wasn't sure which, and at this point it didn't matter.
He fell back against the door, nipping Orlando's bottom lip to ensure that it followed him. His left arm tightened around Orlando's waist, while his right fumbled with the key, trying to get it into the lock. He finally got it in, turned it, and the door flew open, banging against the wall and snapping Johnny out of his daze. He opened his eyes (when had they fallen closed? Perhaps when Orlando had stroked his tongue over the roof of his mouth, and how could Orlando remember how that drove him wild?) and glanced about the hallway to make sure no one had been disturbed.
Orlando's eyes fluttered open too, and he pushed Johnny through the open door, kicking it shut behind him. Johnny stepped away from him, trying to gather up the fragments of his mind, which Orlando had shattered as effectively as a baseball through a window. "Orlando, you're drunk. Stop it."
"Do you really want me to?" Orlando purred. Drunk or not, he was dead sexy, and he knew it. Johnny groaned with annoyance, but it turned into a different sort of groan altogether when Orlando retreated to the bed and sprawled on it, his eyes never once leaving Johnny's.
"You can leave, if you want to," Orlando said matter-of-factly, unbuttoning his white shirt, "but I'd really," it fell apart, revealing a gloriously golden chest, "really," he splayed a hand in the middle, little finger and thumb just barely touching his nipples, "like it if you stayed."
Johnny wasn't sure if his legs could keep him upright. Had the phrase "rational thought" run through his mind? No, it couldn't have, because his mind was in pieces again. His eyes drank in the man-god in front of him. How many people would kill to be in his position? Orlando raised an eyebrow. "You were leaving?"
Johnny swore fluently and crossed the room in roughly a quarter of a second. Fuck morals, fuck rationality, fuck it all. Orlando was his.
He collapsed onto the bed next to Orlando, and removed the hand from his chest. "You don't touch yourself unless I say so," he growled. Orlando complied readily, settling onto his back, offering himself up for Johnny's perusal. Any last vestiges of logic quietly dissipated. Johnny was so busy feasting his eyes on the perfect body laid out for him that he missed the flash of triumph that crossed Orlando's face.

Orlando smirked. He saw the hunger in Johnny's eyes grow as his gaze trailed up and down his body. Johnny always had liked to be in control, so Orlando let him believe that he was. But he knew better.
Johnny shifted himself on top of Orlando and captured his lips in a desperate, hungry kiss. Orlando knew just how desperate and hungry he was, because he could feel a hardness growing against his lower stomach. He rocked his hips slightly, and Johnny gasped and ground down onto him.
Orlando had him now; Johnny wasn't leaving. So no more games. Now, he could let go and enjoy himself. He rolled over so that he was on top and slid his hands under Johnny's shirt, exploring the familiar skin, kneading the muscles. His fingers found Johnny's nipples and pinched them, rolling the hard little nubs.
Johnny moaned, eyes falling shut, and Orlando admired the way his lashes brushed his cheeks, like chocolate dripping into coffee. He bent his head, taking the first button on Johnny’s shirt into his mouth and tearing it off. He paused, waiting for a complaint, but when no answer came but a quickening of breath, he continued, ripping each button off until the shirt fell open. He didn't stop to admire the honeyed chest, instead going straight to a nipple and sucking. Hard.

Johnny grabbed Orlando's hair, arching off the bed. Orlando's lips had left his nipple and were working their way down his chest and stomach, his fingers busy at the zipper of Johnny's jeans. He pulled them down, exposing Johnny's rock-hard flesh. Johnny waited breathlessly for the wetness of Orlando's mouth to close around his cock, but it didn't come. He looked down impatiently. Orlando was examining him closely. Johnny closed his eyes and whispered, "God, Orli. Suck me."
A slow smile spread across Orlando's face. He ran the tip of a finger up and down the hard length, just barely grazing the skin. "I'm going to enjoy this, aren't I?" he purred. "Being the one to make you lose control, after so many times of being pushed to the edge and back, being driven out of my mind, until all I could think of was you and what you were doing to me."
He leaned down and flicked the tip of his tongue over the head, eliciting a strangled moan from the man lying at his mercy. "And you want it, don't you? You want it so badly, I can taste it. Literally." Another lick, this one longer, going from tip to base and back again. "You know what? I'm going to give it to you."
Orlando dropped his mouth onto Johnny's cock suddenly, so suddenly that Johnny screamed. He pumped up into the warm heaven of Orlando's mouth. Orlando met him with equal zeal, doing things with his tongue that Johnny hadn't known were possible. His whole body was pins and needles, centering around Orlando's lips, his tongue, his teeth, not biting but running gently over his skin. This- this was what he had been wanting all day. No, all his life.

Orlando glanced up at Johnny's face, twisted with pleasure, almost as if it were too much for him to bear. If his mouth weren't full, he'd be grinning. He could still play Johnny like the finely tuned instrument that, at least for now, he was.
He returned his attention to the heaving cock in his mouth, tonguing the sensitive head, hearing appreciative moans from higher up the bed. A hand reached down to cup his head, fisting painfully in his hair. He released his mouthful with a pop, removing the hand from his hair as a tortured groan escaped Johnny's lips. He smirked again.
"What was it you said?" he said, crawling up, rubbing his body along Johnny's, Johnny's other hand reaching down to wrap around him. "'Don't touch until I say so'? Shouldn't the same go for you? Frankly, I don't think you can be trusted to keep your hands to yourself." He extricated himself from Johnny, going over to his still-packed suitcase and returning with a belt. "And since you can't be trusted, you'll have to be made to keep your hands to yourself."
Johnny's eyes widened when he saw the belt. Orlando grinned. He knew Johnny's limits, and he was approaching them fast. But that was all right. He busied himself with Johnny's wrists, fastening them together and securing them to a bedpost. Then he unzipped his own pants and pulled them off. This was going to be fun.
He returned to his position between Johnny's legs, then slowly began sliding the faded blue jeans down, examining the skin revealed as he did so. It was the color of milky coffee, the same shade all over, save his cock, which was an angry red, and swollen to its limits. Orlando discarded the jeans and placed his hands on Johnny's thighs, running his hands slowly upwards. He caught and held Johnny's gaze, challenging him.
"Beg me."
"I . . ." Even now, Johnny had trouble surrendering this last amount of control he had over Orlando. Begging for what he knew would come next was admitting that the man had power over him. A power he had never given him before. He took a deep, shaky breath, throwing caution to the winds. "Please. Fuck me."
Orlando's face resembled that of a cat after a dog had been forcibly removed from its presence: pure smugness. His hand moved from Johnny's hip back to his thigh, then trailed past his balls, pausing to give them a quick caress, and between Johnny's ass cheeks. The older man gasped and rolled his hips. Orlando's fingers rubbed and pressed while his other hand reached for the bedside table drawer and returned with a small tube. Planned this? No, not him.
He opened the tube, squeezing some of the clear, slippery liquid onto his finger, then returned it to Johnny's ass, slipping into his entrance. He heard another gasp, and glanced up at Johnny's face. His eyes were clenched shut, and he was grinding his teeth together. His hands pulled at the belt restraining them, and the sight pleased Orlando immensely. Your turn to submit. His searching finger finally found the hard little nub, and his smirk grew as he pressed it, eliciting a hoarse shout from his companion.
"Holy FUCK." Johnny ground out, bucking on Orlando's fingers. His mind was a jumbled mess. He would gladly do anything Orlando asked of him, would beg and scream his throat raw, if he would just never stop doing that.
Orlando did, however, stop. "No..." Johnny whimpered, until he realized what the boy was doing now. Orlando pressed the head of his cock against Johnny's hole and pushed just a little. Johnny growled, wrapped his legs around Orlando, and shoved the other man into himself.
It burned. He winced. He hadn't let anyone do this to him in such a long time that it would take some getting used to. Orlando seemed to understand this, and in a moment of unexpected tenderness (considering the way he'd been acting since they'd gotten back to his room), he brushed aside the hair hanging in Johnny’s face, then leaned down and brushed their lips together gently.
Johnny could sense a change coming over Orlando. Behind all his seduction, his demands, his wicked smiles and smirks, he was still nursing that old wound. The emotions he'd thought he'd killed when he'd walked out were still there, calling out to him. Johnny swallowed hard, feeling a tear slip down his cheek at the love being so blatantly offered to him. He crushed his mouth to Orlando's, pushing against him as he finally felt him start moving, thrusting in and out steadily. He released Orlando's lips, his head falling back against the headboard as what he'd been missing all this time finally clicked back into place.
Orlando moved slowly at first, letting Johnny relax. He wanted him to remember this with pleasure, not pain. Most of their other memories together were painful- not physically, but mentally. Orlando had had enough pain.
He began to pound harder, feeling what he wanted to feel, knowing what he wanted to know. Knowing that if he never touched Johnny again, he would still have had this. Knowing that he could replay over and over in his mind the expression on Johnny's face, the sounds coming from Johnny's mouth, the movements, the heat, the sweat, the bliss...
Johnny opened his eyes, staring up at Orlando as their bodies rocked together. Orlando’s eyes were shut, his mouth hung open slightly, and a look of sweet abandonment encompassed his face. He moaned. He looked more beautiful than he ever had. The sight of the heavenly figure above him, the explosions taking place within as the hard cock pounded in and out of him, and the restraints that prevented him from doing anything but accept the ecstasy washing over him drove him closer and closer to the edge. He careened over it, crying out as he came, feeling Orlando peak moments after. The younger man collapsed onto his chest, breathing as heavily as he himself was, and he felt peace wash over him for the first time in months.
"Orlando," he whispered.
"Mmm?" came a mumble from under his chin.
"You know, you're going to wake up tomorrow with a huge hangover, and regret this."
Orlando propped himself up on one elbow and stared seriously at Johnny. "No, I'm not. And I don't think you are, either."
Johnny wished with all his soul that Orlando could be right, and that they could spend the rest of their lives together. But he knew in his heart that it couldn't happen that way.
Orlando reached up and loosened the belt, freeing Johnny's hands. "Go to sleep, Johnny. We can talk about it in the morning."


The first thing Orlando was aware of was the rise and fall of a chest that he, apparently, had been sleeping on. Then pain flooded his head, and he groaned. Shit. What did I do this time? He raised his head, rubbing two fingers against his aching temple, and met the calm gaze of the man lying beneath him. He blinked, staring at Johnny uncomprehendingly for a moment, before memory returned. He reiterated his earlier thought.
"Shit."
"See?" Johnny said. "That's your cue to jump off me, apologize and go put your clothes on."
Orlando blinked. "Don't be stupid." He gave Johnny a quick kiss and returned to rubbing his temple. "Aren't we late for the shoot?"
Johnny made a noise that could only be described as a snort and shoved Orlando off himself unceremoniously. "You got drunk, seduced me and fell asleep on top of me, and now you're worried about being LATE?"
Orlando's brow furrowed. "I seduced you? It’s all my fault, isn't it? You had no part in it whatsoever?"
Johnny groaned. "Okay, we were both idiots. Happy?"
Orlando sat up, frown disappearing, replaced by resignation. "Why is it idiotic for us to be together?"
Johnny glanced at him and sighed, sitting up. He ran a hand through his mussed hair, fixing his eyes on the sheets tangled about them. "We've been through this, Lando."
Orlando inhaled sharply at the sound of what had once been Johnny's pet name for him. His eyes fell shut. He had never let anyone but Johnny call him that.
"No, you went through this, didn't listen to a word I said, and walked out." Orlando felt the tension building between them. Why couldn't things be back to normal now? Why couldn't Johnny just forget all the crap that had happened and be his again?
Johnny squeezed his eyes shut. He had known this would happen, ever since Orlando had kissed him in the hall. There couldn't be a happy ending. Orlando wouldn't understand.
"There are a lot of reasons. The distance. The age difference. And in case you'd forgotten, I'm married. I can't just erase a commitment like that. It doesn't work that way."
"Would Vanessa," he took some small satisfaction in the way Johnny flinched at having his wife's name spoken by his lover, "really want you to stay with her if you loved someone else? Loved someone else enough to want to leave her?"
And there it was. Did Johnny love him enough to leave her? Johnny finally looked up and met his gaze. Orlando saw the future spelled out in those eyes he loved so dearly. Johnny didn't love him enough. He would get up, walk out, and this would never happen again.
Orlando closed his eyes and nodded once. "Go. Just . . . go."
There was nothing more to say.
Orlando opened his eyes again. He watched Johnny pull on his pants silently and leave. Again. And this time, Orlando knew it wouldn't happen again. They were finished for good. They would see each other at the shoot later that day, and they wouldn't acknowledge each other any more than they had to. Orlando wouldn't be able to smile for the camera that day.
He clutched one of the snow-white hotel pillows, letting his head drop onto one hand as the door clicked shut behind Johnny for the last time.

Johnny leaned heavily against the door. He couldn't bring himself to regret what they'd done, even though he knew he should never have gotten involved with someone who wanted more than he was willing to give. He would never forgive himself for that, but in spite of it all, he still treasured the time they'd spent together. Even if it was over, and would never happen again.
He held his eyes shut against the onslaught of tears that threatened to spill out, resolutely pushed away from the door, and walked away.


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