.:China in your Hands:.



Title: China in your Hands
Author: Laila
Genre: Romantic drama
Pairing: EW/OB
Rating: NC-17
Warning: Slash sex and language, Alternate Universe

Disclaimer:
I do not own Orlando Bloom, Elijah Wood, Dominic Monagan, Johnny Depp or Kate Bothworth, the story doesn't portray facts or assumed facts, and the use of their names and appearance does nothing but srtive to improve the story by their presence.

I decided to repost this, because I think I wanna write a sequel to the sequel in futur :) I hope someone likes it...
:unsure: :lalala: :noangel: :tom:


.:*:.

.: one :.

I looked away when he strolled over to me, the slight feeling of unease crept down my spine.
He didn’t look like a Fan.
That was the first real thought, that popped into my head when I saw the boy approaching me with a pen, a notepad and a grin. He looked nothing like one of my usual fans; in fact, he looked exactly the opposite, and that not only because he was male.
The kid heading towards me looked like a typical gay tease, short, spiky brown hair, delicately crowning a thin, yet distinctive face that wore traces of makeup, eyeliner and some lip-shit. They seem to make his eyes appear unreal big and blue, sparkling pertly in the dusty light of the small pub. Too-big jeans were precariously held up by a leather belt, showing off the hollow of his hipbones, and to top it all off he was wearing a tight red t-shirt, with the word 'bitch' proudly scrawled over the front in black glitter. He was a pretty boy, arrogant looking and far too self-confident, considering who he was approaching. Gay trash, he was the kind of kid who hated what I stand for – the lifestyle of the rich and famous, the glittering world of Hollywood. So what the fuck did he want?

I was alone in a shitty little bar in New Orleans, the only place I could find where I could be relatively certain that I wouldn't be disturbed, by fan-girls or by shits who wanted to beat me up. I'd found that none was frequented by both. I hated being on promotion-tour here, but I didn't have much of a choice, apparently one of the principal actor didn't have nearly as much sway as the production – what news, really. The place was full of crime, and it wasn't the crime I knew. Not like back in London. There was some sort of mystery around the whole place that made me uneasy. I'd sat in my hotel completely unnerved, for two days before I knew I finally had to get out.

Despite the possible risk, I'd slipped the entourage back at my hotel by telling them all I was just ducking down to the hotel bar for a drink, quickly escaping out the back door. Danger or not, I hated walking around with the entourage following my every movement, and besides - the threat that everyone tries to tell me is there, I have never really faced. The bloody fuckers made me feel like a prisoner, I couldn't do anything without a vaguely guilty feeling, dragging these huge, stupid bodyguards along with me – seriously do I really need that?!
I figured they'd be grateful I was giving them the night off, anyway. So the result of all this was me hunched at the corner of a little bar which, I was starting to realise uncomfortably, could very possibly be a gay bar, with a young gay kid (who was in no way, shape or form twenty-one) casually sitting himself beside me and ordering a drink.

"So, would I be much mistaken in thinking that the great Orlando Bloom is sitting all by himself in a gay bar?" he asked in a lightly amused tone, when the bartender had handed him his double vodka and orange. He twirled the vile coloured liquid with his straw and grinned at me, with these unnatural eyes, glinting intended mysteriously. I winced as what I'd been dreading took shape. Fucking typical.

.:*:.

Oh wow, am glad you're reposting this! It's awesome... :love:

This is great!!!
I love this so far!!!

Can I ask something?

this is the first part right?

^_^

heheeheheh!!!

I'm here!! and i always wanted to read this!!

besides I admire ya lots!! and you know it!!

Keep on posting!!!

*lol*

yes it is...
It is an open start but all will be explained :)

thanks you too! :)

^_^ **hehe** I too have read this before... :blush: But somehow it never gets boring. Hmmm... Anywho loved this fanfic and I think I'll love it again :wub: Post more please!!

{*Raine*}

Ps: I was hoping you'd make a sequal!

Hey thank you guys so much for reading :)
Next chapter is coming right here!




.:*:.

.: two :.


"I didn't know it was one of those bars, ok?" I muttered, shaking my head, my cheeks already flushing, for the bloody sake of Christ, who the hell did that kid think he was?! I glanced around furtively, wondering how long the women I could see had actually been women. Busted by a piece of idle gay trash, it'd be all over the news in a fucking hour.
'Orlando Bloom, Caught Chatting Up Underage Boy in Gay Bar.'
Shit. Just my luck.

"Oh, it's not," the kid said grinning cheerfully, obviously highly satisfied with his own joke, "I just wanted to see your reaction."
He winked and slid the paper and pen across the bar at me.
"It was quite a good one. Not as much swearing as I'd expected, though."
My mouth dropped open, I could feel relief flooding through me, almost enough to drown out the irritation the bloody brat next to me was causing. Almost. Little fucking shit had almost given me a heart attack.

"Don't fuck with me," I growled, scrawling my name across the piece of paper quickly so he'd fuck off. "I'm not in the mood."

"Oh, next you'll be telling me you've got a headache," he scoffed, "Not in the mood indeed." He glanced at the autograph quickly before shoving it aside. "What? No phone number? What’s the point then?"

I stared at him, trying to figure out whether he was serious or not. He innocently took a sip of his drink, gazing right back at me with these huge blue eyes. Oh, fuck, don't let him be trying to pick me up…I was still edgy, still feeling a bit out of my league in the fucking weird-ass city. I just wanted to be left alone.

"Look, I ain't a faggot," I said uncomfortably, taking a swig of my beer and looking at him out of the corner of my eye.

"Of course you are! You're far too pretty to be straight, sweetheart. Now, don't break my heart, I was just getting my hopes up. Even if there was no phone number." He batted his lashes at me, and I caught just a hint of a smirk around the corners of his mouth. I had the strangest feeling that he was making fun of me.

"Look, fuck you, if I say I ain't a faggot, then I ain't a fucking faggot, man!" I snapped, glaring at him. To my surprise, he merely burst out laughing.

"No shit? Mr. Bloom isn't gay? Well, there's a surprise. I'm fucking with you again. Christ." He downed most of his drink in one go and immediately ordered another without so much as a wince. I was vaguely impressed, but getting sick of the company. And getting sick of having some little gay brat make a fool of me.

"I told you not to fuck with me," I snarled in as menacing a voice as I could manage, slamming my beer down a little too hard, causing some of it to spill onto the bar. But the kid wasn't humble; he merely tsked reprovingly and used my autograph to mop up the spilt liquid.

"But you make it so easy," he protested, dropping the sopping paper into the ashtray and shooting me a sunny smile, that now reached sparkling his huge blue eyes, "Oh, come now, Mr. Bloom, you looked so bored. I couldn't help myself." He rested his chin in his hands and looked at me sweetly. "So what are you doing here alone, anyway? Where're the three million bodyguards or at least the bunch of party-animal friends, I’ve heard about?"

"None of your fucking business," I muttered, "I came here to be alone." I prayed he'd get the hint, gay bar or not, it'd take one reporter to spot me talking to this brat for the rumours to start. And that was something I could do without. And he, like the rest of the damned place, was making me uneasy.

Unfortunately, he looked like he had no intention of leaving soon. "Yeah, a lot of people come to places like this to be alone," he said, nodding wisely, "All for different reasons, though. What are your reasons, Mr. Bloom?"

"None-"

"None of my fucking business, right," he finished for me with a smile. "Sorry. As you can probably tell, I'm not from around here, I’m from L.A., I think I tend to talk too much for New Orleans. Ask too many questions."

I nodded, rolling my eyes "Yeah, you do, indeed!"

He looked a bit miffed, and shrugged. "Right. Anyway, I gotta get back to work." He downed his drink again and set it gently down on the bar, before swivelling on his stool until his body was facing mine. He leaned in until his lips were right next to my ear, and before I could react, whispered softly, "So, Mr. Bloom, would you like company tonight? For you I’m easily affordable and I can shut up when I'm told…"

.:*:.

Wow! That was great! This is my first time reading this fic, but I really can't wait for more! That kid is so provoking and antagonistic....*cough* he sounds like me *cough*....poor Orlando..I know he wanted to bitch slap him!

1 luv,
Lauren

That was great Laila!!
Amazing just amazing!!
if I were Orlando I would slap him man!!
People like that give me the creeps!!

hey thanks girls :)

you are too kind!

anyone else?

:blush: Elijah's so kinky..... More?

wow...this fic rocks my socks....nice to hear that you are still interested in a sequel!

*grins* Kinky?
Well he's a....
Oh shit I didn't reveal that yet! *hand flies over mouth*
*coughs*
you'll see :)


next chappy!



.:*:.

.: three :.

I jerked away so fast I almost fell off the stool. The little fuck, I couldn't believe he'd just done that. In front of everyone one in the fucking bar, too. Jesus Christ, he just wouldn't take a hint.

"You're a fucking…whor-" I paused, took a breath, "You're a prostitute?" I should have guessed, he was too brazen, too confident, too pretty, to be anything else. Fuck, did I just thought too pretty? Well, for a boy. He was pretty boy. Yeah.

He lifted one shoulder in a tiny shrug. "Call me a whore if it'll make you feel better," he said easily, "Are you so shocked?"

I shook my head, at a loss. "Look, I told you, man, I-"

"Ain't a faggot," he cut in again, and my words seemed suddenly ridiculous coming out of his mouth, flavoured with his comfortably pert flowing accent, "Yeah, so what? Most of my customers aren't exactly 'faggots,' at least, not until they buy me."

"Fuck me," I breathed without realising it probably wasn't the most intelligent thing to say, considering, and immediately going red again. He smirked.

"Yeah, that comes about two hundred dollars later, Mr. Bloom."

"No, I didn't mean it like that," I hurriedly replied, "Shit, kid, you know that crap's gonna get you killed here? You ain't in L.A. no more." I ran my fingers through my hair, suddenly feeling unexplainably distressed. I hadn't been lying, if the kid had tried that back in London… I knew some places where he would have been killed him for less, and then again I knew places where he would grow famous and worshipped.

"In L.A., I've nearly been killed far more times than I'd like to count," he shot back, rolling his eyes, "People here have actually been quite friendly. Most people don't seem to want to slit my throat."

I shook my head again, continuously shocked at the shit coming out of this kids mouth. "How old are you?" I asked, almost dreading the answer.

"How old would you like me to be?" He batted his lashes at me a few times, his little smirk returning, and I rolled my eyes.

"Just fucking answer the question, will you?"

"I'm eighteen," he said defensively, "But don't tell our friend the bartender that." He tapped the side of his nose which was such a hilarious thing to do, taking his age and sexual orientation in consideration, I almost laughed, "We've got stupid drinking laws in America, Mr. Bloom."

"So what the fuck are you doing here, anyway?" I didn't know why I was even talking to him, he was a gay whore, an arrogant brat, and he was trying to hit on me. Insane, but I was starting to get used to that. I'd be out of there soon; just as soon I finished my drink…

"My friend, Dominic, he owns a chain of bondage parlours," he was replying, quite candidly, and I realized that my eyes grew wide in realization what we were actually talking about. "He said he'd take me here with him on this business trip, as long as I could make my own way back. It's my first time in New Orleans."

"He your…boyfriend?" I managed to choke out. I could hardly bring myself to say that to a guy, it just sounded wrong on my lips.

The kid laughed. "Dom? Nah, we're just mates. He's a dom,” He grinned, “yeah, fit’s doesn’t it? You know, bondage and shit. S & M's never really interested me, though."

"Oh…?" I replied vaguely, feeling as if he was forcing my mind to open against its will with every sentence.

"I mean, I'll do some pretty heavy shit for my tricks, if that's what they want, but it really doesn't turn me on, you know?" He continued to prattle on; oblivious to the shocked stares I was giving him. I mean, I didn't want to know this shit. He really did talk too much.

.:*:.

It's back! :love: I love this fiction to death, it's so ultra.. I dunno. It's just brilliant, the dialogue, the amazing characters (orlandooooooo! *squeal*) and the descriptions, it's bloody brilliant. Rock on Laila!

Matt

That was great! I'd feel just as uncomfortable as Orlando, sittin' there with that motor mouth....Can't wait for more!

Lauren

^_^ **giggles** I knew what he was already.... **hehe** post more soon please I'm all up to it!

that was great!!
loved it....just loved it!!
^_^

Thank you so much girls :)
:bloom: for you! *hugs*





.: four :.

"So, you got a name?" I interrupted, causing him to pause and look at me, a bit startled. I guess he hadn't expected me to ask what his name was, hell, I hadn't.

"Yeah. I'm Elijah, Elijah Wood." He gave me a little grin, "But you'd have to beat the shit out of me before I told you my middle name."

"I thought you weren't into that kinda thing," I shot back, surprising myself. I knew I shouldn't be encouraging him at all; let alone teasing him like that. But he was kind of intoxicating; making me let down my guard a bit. I mean, I suppose it couldn't really hurt to chat for a bit, could it? He'd been right, I was bored. The city, despite its size, seemed lonely all of a sudden. I could use a bit of distraction. And it looked like he wasn't going to go away on his own anytime soon anyway.

"You're right," he grinned, laughing a little, "Exactly. So no beating me up to get to know my middle name, ok?"

"You really don't have to worry about it," I replied, smiling at him for I think the first time in the whole bizarre conversation. Elijah looked genuinely pleased to see that smile, relaxing on his stool a bit. I almost wished I'd done it ages ago. "I ain't into it either."

"Well, you see, I could have told you that," Elijah grinned and ordered yet another drink. I took his cue, and got another beer, too. After this one I'd go, for sure. "I'm good at working out what people want. It's kinda necessary in my line of work, you know?"

"You didn't guess that I wasn't gay," I contradicted, raising an eyebrow at him. He nodded, conceding the point.

"Yeah, true. Right, so I'm guessing you're not gonna take me home tonight, then?" The look on his face couldn't exactly be called optimistic; it was already too defeated for that. Maybe vaguely hopeful, but he didn't really expect anything.

"Look, I'm sorry. Even if I was…like that, I couldn't, you know?"

Elijah patted my hand and gave me a small smile. "Don't worry. I didn't really expect to pick you up anyway. I was just seeing if I had the balls to try." The smile disappeared for a moment, and his eyes went a little cloudy. "Just means I gotta go to work for real now, that's all."

I frowned, somehow feeling a little sorry for him. "What's that mean? What do you gotta do?" I already knew the answer, though. And I didn't really want to hear it.

"It means, Mr. Bloom that I have to pick one of the lonely men from this bar, chat them up, go back to a hotel, get two hundred dollars off them, and…well. You know what comes next, I assume?"

I nodded slowly, and took another swig of my beer, trying to absorb that. The kid was eighteen, and he was about to go sell his ass for a couple hundred bucks. It didn't seem right. "You really gonna…" I trailed off as I saw him watching me, nodding.

"You're such an innocent," he murmured, and I nearly fell off my chair again. "Yeah, I'm gonna do all that. It's what I do. It's who I am." He turned away from me, scanning the bar. Cruising, I suppose. Scoping for a trick.

"Don't call me innocent. You don't know shit," I muttered, playing with my drink, but my heart wasn't in it, my mind was overloaded. I should have just told him to fuck off from the beginning. Then I wouldn't be feeling...what? Sorry for him?

I watched Elijah wink at a middle age man who'd come to order a beer. The man blushed furiously and hurried away glancing over his shoulder at Elijah, who blew him a kiss. It was sick. It was fucking wrong.

:tsk: OOOO do I sence some "jelousie" in his eyes... **LOL** Please post!! I love this fanfic...

yup...I agree with you
can't wait to see what happens!!
^_^

:) I love reading all this again! it's just brilliant. I feel so bad for poor Elijah though! Being a whore and all. :cry:

*sniffle* Me too! Oh well--I'll get over it! *claps* Yay! That was awesome, Laila! More postiness?

Hey by the way essence of darkness - happy belated birthday :)
And here for you alone : Next chapter :)




.: five :.

"You gonna fuck him?" I asked incredulously gesturing at the guy, who was sitting by himself in the corner, his eyes fixed on Elijah. Elijah shot me a look.

"Well, if he lets me," he snapped, "Though now he probably thinks I'm with you."

I glanced back at the middle aged guy; he was looking at me, then Elijah again, then back at me. "Oh, shit. Sorry." I muttered, trying not to feel satisfied, even if I was vaguely astounded that anyone would think I was with a guy. Elijah turned back to me with a sigh.

"Men don't want me if they see me with someone," he explained patiently, "He probably thinks you're my pimp. They don't like that, it ruins the fantasy."

"What fantasy?"

"The fantasy that I actually want to be with them," Elijah replied darkly, and there was that shadow around his eyes again. I shook my head, not knowing how to respond, not knowing how I was supposed to react.

"So why do you do it? How can you just…sell your fucking body?" I was incredulous, my question probably came out sounding more like an attack. Understandably, Elijah was immediately defensive, he looked like a cat with it's back up, his head held high and his eyes narrowed.

"Look, everybody does what they have to, ok? Everybody gets by with what they've got. It's like you with your acting in a way, you do it because it's who you are. This is who I am. And like your acting, it isn't particularly pleasant at all times, but there you go." He shot me a challenging look, daring me to argue with him, then tossed his head up eyes and turned away, scanning the bar again. But I wasn't letting it go that easy.

"I just don't understand," I said, "Ok, if you're a fa- if you're gay, that's fine. I ain't, but I can handle it if other people are..."

"Very noble of you," Elijah cut in dryly.

"Whatever. But straight or gay, prostitution...it just ain't right." I raked my hands through my dark curls – the leftovers of Will Turner that I have gotten too used to, to cut; looking at him in frustration, "I mean, don't take this the wrong way man, but you're a good looking enough kid. There's gotta be other shit you can do."

Elijah gave me an almost pitying look. "I fucking know I'm good looking," he said frankly, "It's all I am. Men want to fuck me, Mr. Bloom, employers don't want to employ me. I didn't finish high school I haven't had any work experience, I've been in jail. And I'm not like you, I can't act, I can't sing. I don't have any special talents other than sucking cock, and that's that."

I flinched, glancing back down into my beer, studying the amber depths. He was right, for all I knew. I mean, I didn't know shit about hustling, why would I? It was out of my league, and I honestly didn't want to know. The best thing to do would be to finish my beer and get the fuck out of there, away from the pathetic story of the gay brat, the story I didn't want to hear and certainly didn't want to be part of.

But for some reason, I couldn't make myself leave.

We spent a few minutes in silence, me still entranced by my own drink, and Elijah scanning the bar for a potential trick, before suddenly he sat up with a start, a sly smile curling his lips.

"Well, hello, father," he murmured under his breath, and I wrinkled my brow in confusion.

"What the fuck are you talking about?"

"I just saw tonight's customer," he replied, leaning in close to me, "See the priest? He is perfect."

I followed his gaze, my eyes landing on the young Catholic priest who'd just entered the bar. "Oh bullshit," I scoffed, "You ain't never fucked a priest."

"I have so!" Elijah looked at me, sounding almost childlike, "I have fucked exactly six priests, two bishops and a cardinal. And a few ministers too, but they don't count."

Thanks, Laila! Great belated birthday gift b/c i was gunna flip i didn't read the next chappie soon! *** Dude, he's screwin' the religion! Now that's just wrong! But you almost brought me to tears when Lijah was talking about him not finishing high school and not having any special talents.....*tear tear* I feel SOOooo bad for him now...he has to sell his goodies on the streets just to make a few hundred dollars....*claps* great job! You're so good with words!

Lauren

Nice way of opening a chapter... ^_^

Hi Laila!
It's Monica (Savage*Beauty)!

I was going to read this on EWFN but I'm not allowed in the Adult Forum so...
Anyhoo, it's wonderful so far!
Keep posting! :shine:

He's going to do what!?!
Omg...He has to be joking!!

That was great!!
^_^

Keep on posting, please!!!

:eek:

:laugh: **LOL** Sorry but I love Orlando's answers. He's just so angery and up forward. **sighs** too cute.

I agree! What I'm wondering is, will the lil priest guy take up on Elijah's "proposal" so to speak or will he pull the bible and holy water out and spank him with the "Word"......*shrugs* dunno...but i'm sure hopin' to find out....post more when ya can!

Um... I give this chapter an R-rating :)





.: Six :.

My mouth dropped open, not so much at Elijah's revelation, but at the apparent pride he appeared to have at seducing so many men of the cloth. "Man, that is so fucking wrong," I muttered, "A fucking priest?"

He cocked an eyebrow up at me in amusement. "You a religious man, Mr. Bloom?" he asked, in a low seductive rasp and yet trying not to laugh. I almost laughed at the idea myself.

"Nah, no way man. It's just...the idea of priests, you know? You don't expect them to be doing that kinda shit. It's wrong."

"Priests," Elijah stated slowly and again with an authority that contradicted his age and appearance - not his experience though I suppose, "Are the wrongest men you'll find. Fucking kinky bastards, it comes of them being so damned repressed." He shrugged, "They're also the biggest paedophiles out, you’re bind to have heard the stories about priests and what they do to their little alter boys, right? They all want me to be fifteen, fourteen. They're sick, but I like playing with them. And besides, I’m doing a good thing here, as long as they do it with me they don’t have to molest the innocents... And why not, I suck cocks, that’s just me – why can’t you just accept that I might like it?" His defensive attitude was so obvious, of course he defended his life-style. He is eighteen, understandable he won’t let some bloody actor lecture him. But the shadows under his eyes, the small gnawing at his inner bottom lip when he thinks I don’t look at him – and not at least his bitten nails give the truth away. He is not happy, and when I’m not much mistaken, his brat, teasing, self-confident attitude is just the façade, that keeps him from being hurt even more.
He nodded to the one currently sitting a little ways down the bar, now grinning again he winked "Especially the cute ones."

"That's sick," I announced decisively, "Kid, I like you well enough, but that is still fucking sick."

Elijah burst out laughing, this hilarious hyper giggle of his, and before I knew what he was doing, he'd leaned over and kissed my cheek. "Honey, I know it is. Don't you just love it?" He slid from his stool, stretching a little so his top rode up his slim belly, "Well, it's been good meeting you, Mr. Bloom, I can't say I'm a huge fan of your films, but I have always thought you were damn hot. And you didn't disappoint in person."

"Thanks so fucking much," I said sarcastically, trying to ignore the blush that I knew was staining my cheeks. I was a bit dismayed that he was leaving, though I tried to ignore it.

"You're welcome," Elijah smiled at me, a real smile, rather than the cynical little smirk he often seemed to wear, "I gotta go work. I'll see you around."

"Yeah, see ya." I said softly, watching as he approached the priest in much the same way he'd approached me, swinging his hips and smiling seductively.

"Good evening, father..."

I looked away, I couldn't watch that shit. But it was impossible not to try to hear the conversation, hear Elijah's flirting, hear the priests surprised, hopeful and ultimately sleazy responses.

"Are you a religious man, my son?" I looked up in surprise, it was practically the same thing Elijah had asked me. He noticed me looking, caught my eye and gave me a quick wink.

"Well," he said softly, licking his lips slowly, "I certainly know how to get down on my knees and worship my father..."


I left. I didn't want to see them together, I didn't want to think of it. It was just too much to lay on me in one night, too much for me to handle. I didn't want to sit there and watch as Elijah led that fucking priest out of the room by the hand, didn't want to see if maybe he'd give me another wink, or mouth good bye. I left without looking back, because if I had the jealousy would have been too much.

Yeah, jealousy. I was jealous, and I was sick by the thought that that kid, that little fucking kid, was gonna sell his body to some sleazy cunt of a priest, who didn't know him, and would never know him. Not like I did.

Except that was fucked up, 'cause I didn't know him at all. I mean, I'd spoken to him for twenty minutes in a bar, I couldn't really go around claiming to be his soul-mate, or his fucking protector. What he did was none of my business, and certainly none of my concern. So why the fuck couldn't I get him out of my head, then? What was it about the little shit that made me like this?

I made my way back to the hotel, put up with about thirty people yelling at me for wandering off on my own without really hearing a word anyone was saying, and escaped up to bed. I didn't want to talk to anyone, didn't want to listen to their fucking pointless worries and problems. It all seemed so superficial, so meaningless. I couldn't bring myself to care that “Pirates of the Caribbean” was not doing well in New Orleans and that I had to change that tomorrow at the press conference, because out there was a young boy getting fucked by some screwed up priest who should have known better. Elijah had implanted himself in my head, and there was no way to get rid of him. My mind was racing with images of his sad smile, his big innocent blue eyes gazing at me, his lips pouting. It was sick, it was beyond sick. I mean, this wasn't like me at all, I didn't even go for chic's with Elijah's personality, let alone guys...

I hadn't lied. I wasn't gay. I wasn't in denial. I wasn't going through a phase. I didn't like guys, there was nothing else to say on the matter. I recited all this as I curled up in bed, trying to reassure myself of the truth of it. Guys didn't turn me on. Elijah didn't turn me on. He was nothing but a faggot whore, a low, fucked up whore who should have been nothing to me.

It wasn't working. I moaned in frustration, burying my face in the pillow. Fuck it, I wanted him. There it was, simple as that. I wanted the little brat, wanted to kiss him and make the sadness go away. It made me feel sick, it was fucking wrong, but it was the truth. My hand slipped down my body to my cock, hardening already just from the idea of having him. As I pumped myself, I tried one last time to fix this, tried to imagine it was some hot, blond bimbo sitting on my cock, fucking herself on me. But Elijah won again, because as I came, it was him I pictured, whispering in my ear, his hair tickling my face, his hot breath on my neck.

"Fuck you," I gasped as my come spurted out over my hand, "Fuck you."

And inevitably, Fantasy-Elijah smiled at me, this huge eyes of his sparkled brightly and whispered, "My pleasure..."

hahaha....guess guys can't even get Elijah out of their minds....
I can't beleive Elijah would do that to a priests....

That was great!!!!

^_^

oh my....we are here already?

:tsk: **hehe** Orlando my man just fuck him and get it over with!!! **sighs** I hatethe supense... Sure i read this fanfic like twice now... But hey! It's all good ;)

Woot.. I feel sorry for Orlando, but even he must taste the bittersweetness of love. Or at least lust, hehe. But.. *sigh* We all know that orlando is a real sweetheart, at least we who have read the chapters. :)

.: Seven :.

The next day I had a hell bunch of interviews and press conferences to do, but I wasn’t able to focus on the subject. The circumstances were worse enough without Johnny who has always been such a great support, to not get lost in that media world. But he had other commitments to attend, just like Kierra, and here I am, bloody Orlando Bloom, struggling through interview and interview, with nothing on my mind but huge blue eyes and the boyish pert voice of a gay whore.

It was just past midnight before I could get away from the throng of fans, promoters, minders and officials who seemed to want to track my every movement. "Orli, sign this, Orlando, pose for that photo, Orli, I want your baby..." And on and on. I felt like I was suffocating by the time I got back to the hotel, felt as if I was never gonna breath properly again. And to make it all worse, I still couldn't stop thinking of the kid.

I knew it was ridiculous, I mean, I probably wasn't even gonna see him again. Stupid to be wondering about him, worrying about him. I lay in bed, having turned down the offers of parties, booze, drugs, groupies (that last made me wince.) I was feeling claustrophobic, crowded and lonely all at the same time. My room was painfully empty and painfully surrounded. I was trapped again. I needed to get out of there.

"I'm just going down to the bar for a drink. You don't gotta come." I told Sean, the bodyguard standing outside my door.

"Sorry, Mr. Bloom, I'm paid to keep you in sight," Sean looked sympathetic, but unmovable. That is, until I placed two hundred dollars in his hand.

"I'll be back in a few hours. You ain't seen a thing, right?" I raised an eyebrow at him, cocking my head to the side. He hesitated for a moment, then nodded.

"Yeah, all right, Mr. Bloom. For all I know, you're still in your room."

"That's the spirit," I muttered, "Thanks, Sean. I appreciate it, man." I strolled away from him, down to the elevators. I really was just going for a drink, just to get away from the hotel for a bit, just to escape...

It only took me ten minutes to get to the little bar, I knew the way from yesterday. Before I walked in, I paused for a moment, taking a deep breath. He wouldn't be there. I was kidding myself, and good, 'cause when I saw that the bar was Elijah-free, I could go back to the hotel and continue living my life as if I'd never met him. It'd just take one glance, one look to set my mind at ease. So why the fuck was I so nervous? Why couldn't I bring myself to step up to the door, open it and push my way inside? What was stopping me?

The problem was solved when a young couple suddenly exited and saw me there. "You coming in?" The woman asked me, smiling and holding the door open. Even if she knew who I was, she was too drunk to recognise me, she was just being friendly and helpful, so get a fucking MOVE on, Orli, get in the door and thank her.

I did so, my heart feeling like it was about to beat its way right out of my chest. My eyes scanned the room, avoiding the bar at first to search the pitifully empty dance floor, the darkened tables, seeing no sign of my thin Mr. blue-eyes. MY thin Mr. Blue-eyes? Man, I was tripping.

Finally, I let my eyes alight on the bar, slowly running them over the patrons seated there.

Elijah had already seen me.

Sitting by himself, he was fiddling with his drink, twisted around on the stool so he could lean back against the bar. He was wearing leather pants tonight, black leather pants and a long sleeved top made of some sort of clinging material in deep red, leaving his stomach bare again. His hair was not spiky today, and looked rather tamed, leaving wisps to fall around his face, which was decorated with sparkling but apparently transparent lip-gloss and too much eyeliner again, like Jack Sparrow, I mused – Captain Jack Sparrow, for that matter. But that was the only feature that would slightly resemble a pirate – no a pirate was the last he was. And he was watching me, smiling, this little surprised but happy smile.

Oh, fuck. I was lost, completely lost. I didn't have to worry about my heart beating too fast now, as soon as I'd seen him it had stopped completely. He beckoned me over, and I felt as if an electric current had pulsed through my body, jolting me into action.

"Back again, Mr. Bloom?" His voice was inflected with the surprise I'd seen on his face as he watched me sit down besides him. "I wasn't expecting to see you again."

"Yeah, well, I'm full of surprises," I replied lamely, watching as he ordered my drink, the same beer I'd had last night. "It was Elijah, right?" I furrowed my brow, trying to pretend I didn't really remember who he was.

He smirked, seeing through the act straight away. At least he had the decency not to call me up on it. "Yeah, Elijah," he affirmed, nodding his head. "Good performances tonight."

So they meet again...
:laugh:
That was great!!
^_^

just bumping this for ya!

"Elijah was it?" LMAO, what a mega dork he is. Just cling on to him and tell him how you feel for Gods sake! LOL. Poor Orlando. ^_^

Ooooooo...

Lol, I've only recently gotten "into" slash, but I finally got around to reding this and I love it!

I like the idea...and I absolutely adore Elijah's character in this...just so fascinating and....oh this rocks so much. So weel written and great. Laila, you never fail to amaze me, sweetie....


Hehehe...I love how he knows the exact number of religious officials he's screwed... ^_^


More soon?

:love:
Sarah

oooh god. I love this story.

LOVE it.

It converted me to slash, this story did. I loved it the first time, and i love it now. *nods*

laila ur a genius. keep posting!!!

:kiss2: