Eric Bana and ![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png)
orlando_bloom have fun with a little prison roleplay
Dec. 1st, 2014 09:12 americbanaplayers only. takes place not long after the boys move into their new house.
Eric rarely indulges himself with the inmates, unlike some of his colleagues who make it a regular habit. With every new intake, they pick one or two who look weaker, more unsure, prettier than the rest. Or conversely, more arrogant, more like they need to be brought down a peg or two, taught who's really boss. But none of that interests Eric. Or rather, all of it does, but it still has to be in just the right package, just the right combination. Which is why this one - this Orlando Bloom - has caught his eye. Of course, he's caught a lot of other eyes as well, including those of Eric's colleagues, but a clear declaration of mine goes a long way in making everyone step back.
It hasn't even been a full day and Orlando can already tell he's in trouble. He leans against the metal bars of his open cell door, his posture relaxed but his eyes wary as he watches the other inmates shuffle between cells, the guards patrolling their midst. No one has actually come after him yet, but the crude cat calls in the showers this morning and hazing at lunch didn't exactly calm him down.
County is nothing like the local lock-up where he'd been held for the months awaiting trial. It's vast and regimented and if he's honest with himself more than a little intimidating. He crosses his arms over his chest and keeps his head down, even as his gaze peruses the cell block. He needs to find out more about how things work around here, preferably without getting gang-banged or killed, if he can. He knows avoiding sex altogether is impossible, but he'd at least like a vote in who and how often he gets fucked.
One of the guards for the block is headed his direction and Orlando's gaze lingers on the solid build under the dark uniform before raising it to meet the guard's. His breath catches and he has to look away as he feels a flush slowly working its way up his neck. He's hot. And coming closer.
Making a decision before he can second guess himself, Orlando drops his hands to his sides, fingers curling against the bars he's leaning on. He waits until the guard is a few feet from him before he looks up. "Hey," he murmurs, "Who's the shut call around here?" He keeps the question quiet and his gaze steady.
Eric comes to a stop. "That would be Joe. The bulked-up skinhead at the end of the row," he adds, nodding in the general direction. "You planning on making friends with him before he makes friends with you?" he asks, impressed that Orlando even knows this much about the way things work. He wouldn't have expected it.
Orlando grimaces at the information. He knows who the guard is talking about, and he's pretty sure it's the same guy who'd encouraged the hazing during lunch. "It was a thought," he says, making another face as he glances towards the end of the row, "but I don't think he's really my type." He looks at the guard again. "Are you the cop in charge of this block?"
Eric nods. Maybe this'll be even easier than he thought. "That's me."
The noise Orlando makes in response is thoughtful, his gaze considering. He slouches against the bars and cocks his hips - just a little. Taking another, longer look at Eric. "Is there anything special I should know about the...accommodations on your block?"
A hint of a smile curls Eric's lips for a second before it's gone again. "Occasionally I can make sure someone gets a cell all to themselves," he says. "And gets Joe there to back off. Completely."
Expressions of hope and relief chase one another across Orlando's features. "And what would a guy like me have to do to make those kinds of things happen?"
Neither escapes Eric's notice. "Be friendly. Very, very friendly."
Orlando hesitates for only a moment, his gaze meeting Eric's. "I like making friends." He licks his lips and drops his gaze to Eric's crotch, then peers back up at him from under his lashes. "I'd show you how much," he tongues his lower lip. "But I'm not sure if you'd want to see now, or later."
Eric looks around, the closest guard watching them from a few cells away. He gives the man a look and a nod - a signal to keep watch - and turns back to Orlando. "Now works for me." Gesturing for the prisoner to move back into his cell.
"Yes, sir," Orlando murmurs, pushing off the bars and ambling back into his cell. He pauses, then sits down on the bunk, his knees falling wide as he watches Eric.
Eric takes one more look around then follows Orlando inside, moving to stand in front of him, the man's face level with his groin. God. "So? Show me," he says, eyes locked on that gorgeous fucking mouth.
Orlando licks his lips and looks up as he deftly unzips Eric's fly and feels for his cock, warm and half-hard already in his hand. He makes a sound as he pulls it free, eyes darkening at the weight and length. "Don't worry," he murmurs, smearing the swelling head against his mouth. "I only bite on request." He strokes tight and slow from the base, then laps up the bead of moisture that appears at the tip.
"Biting would kind of defeat the purpose," Eric says, groaning softly at Orlando's handling of his cock, at the feel of those lips - and that tongue - against the head. "I'd have to hand you over to Joe."
"No, please," Orlando breathes, lips puckered against the head and slowly parting. Looks up as he sucks it in slow and easy, lips sliding over the head, his breathing shallow and eyes half-lidded as the head disappears and the shaft stretches his lips until the head nudges the soft ridge of his throat.
"Mmm. You're good at this," Eric murmurs, bracing his hands against the bunk above. Some of the guys he works with get off on forcing the prisoners, the brutality behind what they need, but him? Fuck. He'd rather have a 'willing' partner.
The praise goes to Orlando's cock and he shifts closer, spreading his thighs, his mouth slick with drool as he sucks. He pulls back to the tip and looks up. "I've had practice," he smears his tongue over the slit, "but nothing like this." A fleeting smirk before he goes down again, his eyelids drifting down as the head hits his throat. He groans, muffled and cut off, before he swallows.
Eric groans, head going back for a second. Fuck. "Flatterer," he murmurs, dropping one hand to Orlando's hair, a touch he rarely allows himself with a prisoner. "One would think you're wanting something."
Cock tenting the loose pants of his prison uniform, Orlando pulls off slow, with a choked breath and a gurgled moan. "F-fuck my throat," he says, his whisper shaky and his hips rocking as he goes down again, swallowing what he can.
Eric blinks at that, one more glance out the door before he drops his other hand to the man's head, cradling his skull, his eyes locked on the sight of his cock disappearing between those luscious lips. One tentative thrust then another before he decides Orlando can take it and he starts thrusting harder, deeper.
Moans choked apart by the thrusts, Orlando shifts forward, then forward again until he's sliding off the bunk to his knees, hands coming up to clutch at the back of Eric's thighs and looks up.
"Is this what you want?" Eric says, stunned by the sight of the other man on the floor, those eyes, that gaze, locked on his own. "My cock choking you, fucking your throat?"
Pulling off to lap at the head, Orlando catches his breath. "Or more," he says, sucking each drop as it wells from the tip, one hand sliding forward to cradle his balls. "You can have me. This," licking up his shaft, "can have my throat. My ass." His voice dropping to a quiet murmur on the last.
"What makes you think I want your ass?" Eric says, drawing back a little. "You think I'm a fucking fag?" He is, but that's sure as hell not anything his colleagues know. And he can't resist yanking Orlando's chain. Keeping him a little on edge while he decides if this is really something he wants to do. Take on this man, this boy, as his, for the whole fucking time he's here.
Orlando's eyes go a little wide at the response to his suggestion. Pretty sure I was just sucking your cock, yeah... he thinks, not that he would dare say it. He drops his hands and his gaze, but stays kneeling, his brain going a mile a minute as he tries to figure out how to calm the guy down without offending. He can't risk losing the potential protection, especially given how much more appealing Eric is than the other options.
"No, no, not at all," Orlando says, licking his lips as he looks at Eric's cock. "Just because something feels good, doesn't mean you're a fag, right? Anybody would like it. It feels good, yeah?" He moves forward slowly, flicking his tongue over the head again, his voice husky, his touch careful. "I know lots of things that can make you feel good."
"Yeah?" Shit. And right there, Eric knows he's going to do this. Not because of what Orlando says he can do but because of how he handled the situation. Someone that aware, that sensitive, will fucking get eaten alive in here. "Show me."
Trying not to sag in relief, Orlando shuffles closer, looking up. "Okay," he says, nearly a whisper. "I just need...a little more room," parting Eric's fly and tugging down the front of his uniform pants, still watching for a reaction as he holds his cock up, then lifts his sac free. Makes a low, needy sound and sticks out his tongue, lapping over the hot skin, then sucking first one, then the other between his lips. Eyes drifting closed as he sucks, fingers kneading the heavy cock in his hand.
A lowfuck spills from Eric's mouth, his head going back. It's been a long time since anyone's done this to him and it sure wasn't here or with this level of skill. But again, he's not about to tell Orlando that. Not about to give the other man anything he can use against him. "That's it. Make it good," he orders, hand sliding into those curls once more. Tugging lightly.
It occurs to Orlando that maybe this isn't just about keeping himself out of trouble while he's in here. That maybe the reason he's a little lost in what he's doing - now cupping the heavy weight of Eric's sac, mouthing up the underside of his shaft in wet sucks as he makes his way back to the wide head to lick and swirl his tongue - maybe a big part of how he's reacting is the guard himself. This guy, and his magnificent, enormously delicious cock. He scoots closer, slurping it once more into the back of his throat, cutting off his own quiet groan of pleasure as he swallows around the head.
Cursing under his breath again, Eric gives in and buries both hands in Orlando's hair, pushing his cock in as deep as it'll go. Testing exactly how much the man can handle as he starts fucking his throat.
Relaxing into the warm grip of those hands, Orlando moves where he's guided, the last of the tension draining from him as he focuses on the suck and tongue of the thick cock filling his throat. His hands fall to Eric's hips as he tips his head back, throat open for that cock, eyes dark with lust as his cock strains against his prison garb.
Fuck. Eric groans, opening his eyes again so he can see Orlando's face, see his blissed-out features and the raging erection beyond that. Orlando's not just servicing him. He wants this and it's that knowledge, as much as the hot mouth wrapped around his flesh, that sends him over.
Orlando leans even closer when he feels the first thick spurts in the back of his throat, takes it in crude gulps and wet swallows. He licks Eric clean, lingering as long as he dares before he pulls away. He pants quietly in the empty cell, still on his knees as his gaze falls to the side. He puts a hand between his legs, pressing down to soothe the ache until he can get a moment alone. And for once, his chatterbox of a mouth can't think of a word to say to break the awkward silence.
"You should do something about that," Eric says after a moment, using the toe of his black leather boot to push Orlando's hand away from his crotch.
Blushing, Orlando curls his hands on the tops of his thighs. "I was going to, later," he says, then glances up at him, his cheeks awash with color. "But I could do it now?" he says, a husky question in his voice as a hand hovers over his fly.
Eric nods. "Go ahead, but you don't come until I say you can."
Eyes a little wide at the request, Orlando nods and casts a quick glance at the doorway before he unzips his fly and pulls his stiff cock out in his fist. The first stroke feels so good he goes up on his knees and pulls harder, panting quietly as he jerks himself at Eric's feet.
"You come on my boots and you're licking it up," Eric threatens quietly, eyes dark, locked on Orlando. Well aware of those watching them, still hoping the man in front of him will fuck up and lose his protection.
The words make hot need boil up in Orlando's gut and he moans and curls forward a little, hand pumping hard, fingers twisting over the head. Oh, god. I want that. His breath hitches once, then harder and he looks up at Eric, hand still moving. "I think I," swallowing hard, "Can I do that? I want to, on them," voice dropping to a whisper, "and lick it up."
Fuck. Eric struggles to keep his eyes open at that, his cock straining to harden again. "Do it."
"Oh, fuck," Orlando whimpers. His hips rock forward, fucking a hard cock into a tight fist, then a low grunt and he's coming, the spurts streaking across the toes of Eric's boots. A last squeeze and dribble, then a quick glance up at Eric before he bends down. And flicks the end of his tongue through a white streak.
Eric huffs out a breath, stunned, aroused, suddenly certain there's not a chance in hell he'll ever let anyone else touch the man on the floor in front of him. "He's mine," he calls out, for anyone listening. "Anyone touches him, anyone fucking breathes on him, and they'll have me to deal with."
Nothing's ever felt as right as the next few moments, silent except for the soft slurp and lick of Orlando's frantic mouth over Eric's boots, kissing up every dribble of his own come. If he hadn't just come, he'd be hard and nearly insane with need again in seconds. The ache as his body tries is enough to keep him down for long seconds. He straightens, leans back and looks up, licking a stray drop from the corner of his mouth. "Yours," he whispers.
"Mine," Eric agrees, touching Orlando's cheek. A promise, a confirmation, a guarantee.
[feedback welcome. comments screened.]
Eric rarely indulges himself with the inmates, unlike some of his colleagues who make it a regular habit. With every new intake, they pick one or two who look weaker, more unsure, prettier than the rest. Or conversely, more arrogant, more like they need to be brought down a peg or two, taught who's really boss. But none of that interests Eric. Or rather, all of it does, but it still has to be in just the right package, just the right combination. Which is why this one - this Orlando Bloom - has caught his eye. Of course, he's caught a lot of other eyes as well, including those of Eric's colleagues, but a clear declaration of mine goes a long way in making everyone step back.
It hasn't even been a full day and Orlando can already tell he's in trouble. He leans against the metal bars of his open cell door, his posture relaxed but his eyes wary as he watches the other inmates shuffle between cells, the guards patrolling their midst. No one has actually come after him yet, but the crude cat calls in the showers this morning and hazing at lunch didn't exactly calm him down.
County is nothing like the local lock-up where he'd been held for the months awaiting trial. It's vast and regimented and if he's honest with himself more than a little intimidating. He crosses his arms over his chest and keeps his head down, even as his gaze peruses the cell block. He needs to find out more about how things work around here, preferably without getting gang-banged or killed, if he can. He knows avoiding sex altogether is impossible, but he'd at least like a vote in who and how often he gets fucked.
One of the guards for the block is headed his direction and Orlando's gaze lingers on the solid build under the dark uniform before raising it to meet the guard's. His breath catches and he has to look away as he feels a flush slowly working its way up his neck. He's hot. And coming closer.
Making a decision before he can second guess himself, Orlando drops his hands to his sides, fingers curling against the bars he's leaning on. He waits until the guard is a few feet from him before he looks up. "Hey," he murmurs, "Who's the shut call around here?" He keeps the question quiet and his gaze steady.
Eric comes to a stop. "That would be Joe. The bulked-up skinhead at the end of the row," he adds, nodding in the general direction. "You planning on making friends with him before he makes friends with you?" he asks, impressed that Orlando even knows this much about the way things work. He wouldn't have expected it.
Orlando grimaces at the information. He knows who the guard is talking about, and he's pretty sure it's the same guy who'd encouraged the hazing during lunch. "It was a thought," he says, making another face as he glances towards the end of the row, "but I don't think he's really my type." He looks at the guard again. "Are you the cop in charge of this block?"
Eric nods. Maybe this'll be even easier than he thought. "That's me."
The noise Orlando makes in response is thoughtful, his gaze considering. He slouches against the bars and cocks his hips - just a little. Taking another, longer look at Eric. "Is there anything special I should know about the...accommodations on your block?"
A hint of a smile curls Eric's lips for a second before it's gone again. "Occasionally I can make sure someone gets a cell all to themselves," he says. "And gets Joe there to back off. Completely."
Expressions of hope and relief chase one another across Orlando's features. "And what would a guy like me have to do to make those kinds of things happen?"
Neither escapes Eric's notice. "Be friendly. Very, very friendly."
Orlando hesitates for only a moment, his gaze meeting Eric's. "I like making friends." He licks his lips and drops his gaze to Eric's crotch, then peers back up at him from under his lashes. "I'd show you how much," he tongues his lower lip. "But I'm not sure if you'd want to see now, or later."
Eric looks around, the closest guard watching them from a few cells away. He gives the man a look and a nod - a signal to keep watch - and turns back to Orlando. "Now works for me." Gesturing for the prisoner to move back into his cell.
"Yes, sir," Orlando murmurs, pushing off the bars and ambling back into his cell. He pauses, then sits down on the bunk, his knees falling wide as he watches Eric.
Eric takes one more look around then follows Orlando inside, moving to stand in front of him, the man's face level with his groin. God. "So? Show me," he says, eyes locked on that gorgeous fucking mouth.
Orlando licks his lips and looks up as he deftly unzips Eric's fly and feels for his cock, warm and half-hard already in his hand. He makes a sound as he pulls it free, eyes darkening at the weight and length. "Don't worry," he murmurs, smearing the swelling head against his mouth. "I only bite on request." He strokes tight and slow from the base, then laps up the bead of moisture that appears at the tip.
"Biting would kind of defeat the purpose," Eric says, groaning softly at Orlando's handling of his cock, at the feel of those lips - and that tongue - against the head. "I'd have to hand you over to Joe."
"No, please," Orlando breathes, lips puckered against the head and slowly parting. Looks up as he sucks it in slow and easy, lips sliding over the head, his breathing shallow and eyes half-lidded as the head disappears and the shaft stretches his lips until the head nudges the soft ridge of his throat.
"Mmm. You're good at this," Eric murmurs, bracing his hands against the bunk above. Some of the guys he works with get off on forcing the prisoners, the brutality behind what they need, but him? Fuck. He'd rather have a 'willing' partner.
The praise goes to Orlando's cock and he shifts closer, spreading his thighs, his mouth slick with drool as he sucks. He pulls back to the tip and looks up. "I've had practice," he smears his tongue over the slit, "but nothing like this." A fleeting smirk before he goes down again, his eyelids drifting down as the head hits his throat. He groans, muffled and cut off, before he swallows.
Eric groans, head going back for a second. Fuck. "Flatterer," he murmurs, dropping one hand to Orlando's hair, a touch he rarely allows himself with a prisoner. "One would think you're wanting something."
Cock tenting the loose pants of his prison uniform, Orlando pulls off slow, with a choked breath and a gurgled moan. "F-fuck my throat," he says, his whisper shaky and his hips rocking as he goes down again, swallowing what he can.
Eric blinks at that, one more glance out the door before he drops his other hand to the man's head, cradling his skull, his eyes locked on the sight of his cock disappearing between those luscious lips. One tentative thrust then another before he decides Orlando can take it and he starts thrusting harder, deeper.
Moans choked apart by the thrusts, Orlando shifts forward, then forward again until he's sliding off the bunk to his knees, hands coming up to clutch at the back of Eric's thighs and looks up.
"Is this what you want?" Eric says, stunned by the sight of the other man on the floor, those eyes, that gaze, locked on his own. "My cock choking you, fucking your throat?"
Pulling off to lap at the head, Orlando catches his breath. "Or more," he says, sucking each drop as it wells from the tip, one hand sliding forward to cradle his balls. "You can have me. This," licking up his shaft, "can have my throat. My ass." His voice dropping to a quiet murmur on the last.
"What makes you think I want your ass?" Eric says, drawing back a little. "You think I'm a fucking fag?" He is, but that's sure as hell not anything his colleagues know. And he can't resist yanking Orlando's chain. Keeping him a little on edge while he decides if this is really something he wants to do. Take on this man, this boy, as his, for the whole fucking time he's here.
Orlando's eyes go a little wide at the response to his suggestion. Pretty sure I was just sucking your cock, yeah... he thinks, not that he would dare say it. He drops his hands and his gaze, but stays kneeling, his brain going a mile a minute as he tries to figure out how to calm the guy down without offending. He can't risk losing the potential protection, especially given how much more appealing Eric is than the other options.
"No, no, not at all," Orlando says, licking his lips as he looks at Eric's cock. "Just because something feels good, doesn't mean you're a fag, right? Anybody would like it. It feels good, yeah?" He moves forward slowly, flicking his tongue over the head again, his voice husky, his touch careful. "I know lots of things that can make you feel good."
"Yeah?" Shit. And right there, Eric knows he's going to do this. Not because of what Orlando says he can do but because of how he handled the situation. Someone that aware, that sensitive, will fucking get eaten alive in here. "Show me."
Trying not to sag in relief, Orlando shuffles closer, looking up. "Okay," he says, nearly a whisper. "I just need...a little more room," parting Eric's fly and tugging down the front of his uniform pants, still watching for a reaction as he holds his cock up, then lifts his sac free. Makes a low, needy sound and sticks out his tongue, lapping over the hot skin, then sucking first one, then the other between his lips. Eyes drifting closed as he sucks, fingers kneading the heavy cock in his hand.
A lowfuck spills from Eric's mouth, his head going back. It's been a long time since anyone's done this to him and it sure wasn't here or with this level of skill. But again, he's not about to tell Orlando that. Not about to give the other man anything he can use against him. "That's it. Make it good," he orders, hand sliding into those curls once more. Tugging lightly.
It occurs to Orlando that maybe this isn't just about keeping himself out of trouble while he's in here. That maybe the reason he's a little lost in what he's doing - now cupping the heavy weight of Eric's sac, mouthing up the underside of his shaft in wet sucks as he makes his way back to the wide head to lick and swirl his tongue - maybe a big part of how he's reacting is the guard himself. This guy, and his magnificent, enormously delicious cock. He scoots closer, slurping it once more into the back of his throat, cutting off his own quiet groan of pleasure as he swallows around the head.
Cursing under his breath again, Eric gives in and buries both hands in Orlando's hair, pushing his cock in as deep as it'll go. Testing exactly how much the man can handle as he starts fucking his throat.
Relaxing into the warm grip of those hands, Orlando moves where he's guided, the last of the tension draining from him as he focuses on the suck and tongue of the thick cock filling his throat. His hands fall to Eric's hips as he tips his head back, throat open for that cock, eyes dark with lust as his cock strains against his prison garb.
Fuck. Eric groans, opening his eyes again so he can see Orlando's face, see his blissed-out features and the raging erection beyond that. Orlando's not just servicing him. He wants this and it's that knowledge, as much as the hot mouth wrapped around his flesh, that sends him over.
Orlando leans even closer when he feels the first thick spurts in the back of his throat, takes it in crude gulps and wet swallows. He licks Eric clean, lingering as long as he dares before he pulls away. He pants quietly in the empty cell, still on his knees as his gaze falls to the side. He puts a hand between his legs, pressing down to soothe the ache until he can get a moment alone. And for once, his chatterbox of a mouth can't think of a word to say to break the awkward silence.
"You should do something about that," Eric says after a moment, using the toe of his black leather boot to push Orlando's hand away from his crotch.
Blushing, Orlando curls his hands on the tops of his thighs. "I was going to, later," he says, then glances up at him, his cheeks awash with color. "But I could do it now?" he says, a husky question in his voice as a hand hovers over his fly.
Eric nods. "Go ahead, but you don't come until I say you can."
Eyes a little wide at the request, Orlando nods and casts a quick glance at the doorway before he unzips his fly and pulls his stiff cock out in his fist. The first stroke feels so good he goes up on his knees and pulls harder, panting quietly as he jerks himself at Eric's feet.
"You come on my boots and you're licking it up," Eric threatens quietly, eyes dark, locked on Orlando. Well aware of those watching them, still hoping the man in front of him will fuck up and lose his protection.
The words make hot need boil up in Orlando's gut and he moans and curls forward a little, hand pumping hard, fingers twisting over the head. Oh, god. I want that. His breath hitches once, then harder and he looks up at Eric, hand still moving. "I think I," swallowing hard, "Can I do that? I want to, on them," voice dropping to a whisper, "and lick it up."
Fuck. Eric struggles to keep his eyes open at that, his cock straining to harden again. "Do it."
"Oh, fuck," Orlando whimpers. His hips rock forward, fucking a hard cock into a tight fist, then a low grunt and he's coming, the spurts streaking across the toes of Eric's boots. A last squeeze and dribble, then a quick glance up at Eric before he bends down. And flicks the end of his tongue through a white streak.
Eric huffs out a breath, stunned, aroused, suddenly certain there's not a chance in hell he'll ever let anyone else touch the man on the floor in front of him. "He's mine," he calls out, for anyone listening. "Anyone touches him, anyone fucking breathes on him, and they'll have me to deal with."
Nothing's ever felt as right as the next few moments, silent except for the soft slurp and lick of Orlando's frantic mouth over Eric's boots, kissing up every dribble of his own come. If he hadn't just come, he'd be hard and nearly insane with need again in seconds. The ache as his body tries is enough to keep him down for long seconds. He straightens, leans back and looks up, licking a stray drop from the corner of his mouth. "Yours," he whispers.
"Mine," Eric agrees, touching Orlando's cheek. A promise, a confirmation, a guarantee.
[feedback welcome. comments screened.]
