So this started as said friend daring me to write such a squicky pairing, and, since I just cannot write squick for the sake of squick, ended up being one of the most thoughtful series I've ever written (at least, I think so). I'm currently writing the very first part of the series (didn't start as one, that's why it's all mixed-up), and for some weird reason after three days of non-stop writing I find myself stuck, so I figure, maybe feedback will get me back on track? Let's hope so!! ^_^
Title: Underneath It All series
Author: many_miles_away (writing journal: cautious_melody)
Pairing: Fat!Sean Astin/Orlando Bloom
Disclaimer: If the boys were mine, I wouldn't be here right now. I'd be taping them.
Summary: A drabble and a ficlet. Both about the same thing: Sometimes Sean wonders what might be the attraction.
Being Sam meant so much to him that at first he didn’t care; but as months pass and the guys keep taking the piss out of him, it becomes harder to face his reflection in the pubs’ windows, let alone in his mirror. He hates himself almost as badly as John.
Orlando is the only one to spare him, and they all assume it’s because he’s being made fun of for being so groomed. The irony makes Sean smile, bitterness melting into moans in the silence of the New-Zealand night, as slender hands grip his hips from behind, steadying him.
Sometimes he wonders what might be the attraction. God knows if he gets it. But then, he decides that it’s probably best not to know, and keeps his mouth shut. Maybe it’s just part of Orlando’s Dare Devil philosophy. Try everything, even the absurd. Or maybe it’s one of those things, the reason why so many fat girls somehow manage to date the most gorgeous guys, and vice-versa (although when it’s ugly boys you can usually find the reason in their wallets).
And now he’s thinking about it. He shakes his head as if it would make the thoughts go away, and looks up to see Orlando watching him, a soft amused smile on his lips. But then Elijah knocks his pint over and everyone jumps away from the table while Elijah giggles drunkenly (not that you can really hear the difference from his sober giggles). He’s got beer all over the front of his shirt and when he looks down at it, scolding, he can barely see the tip of his shoes.
It’s not the first time depression overwhelms him. It happens at least once a day, even though by now he knows how to keep it in check. Nobody ever seems to notice the twitch of his face or the angry fists buried deep in his pockets. Nobody but one. Out of nowhere there’s a hand on his shoulder and Orlando’s voice is slithering in his ear. “No reason to get upset…” And he knows that Orlando isn’t talking about the soaked shirt.
Sometimes he wonders if Orlando will stop shagging him when he’s fit again, but then, of course they will stop, because after all he’s married, and he loves his wife, he does, even though he hasn’t been able to make love to her or even let her see him naked for months now. He feels like the guy in The Full Monty, the one who wrapped cellophane around his barrel of a stomach hoping to lose weight, all the while munching on a Mars bar. Except that he isn’t allowed to lose a single pound, not yet. What’s worse, Peter has already told them that they will most probably need to come back to re-shoot scenes later on, because it always happens. Which means that he’s going to have to keep the weight on for years, and the idea is so atrocious he pushes it out of his brain, refusing to let desperation overtake him.
It seems Elijah’s clumsiness has marked the end of the party and he realizes with surprise that half of the guys have already exited the pub, leaving him staring dumbly at the dripping table. When he turns around he sees Orlando standing in the open doorway, looking at him with predatory eyes. He frowns and follows outside, glancing dubiously at Orlando’s excited grin.
Then it’s back at Orlando’s place, and even though that’s why he isn’t going back to his wife tonight, he cannot help but wish nothing would happen. He hates the moment when clothes are piled on the floor and he is met with the almost painfully gorgeous body of Orlando, his eyes desperately trying to stay clear of his own body. There are no mirrors in Orlando’s bedroom; he’s taken the both of them away the very first night, albeit reluctantly.
Then Orlando is pressing him against the wall and the only thing he can think of is how it must feel for his fit friend to be pressed against a lump of fat, and how he cannot feel every inch of Orlando’s body because his stomach is getting in the way. His fists curl up again but Orlando’s hands slide down his arms and grip his wrists, forcing his hands to relax and touch him. Then there is Orlando’s tongue in his mouth and things start getting a little better. Orlando fervently whispers the things he always whispers, that he isn’t half as fat as he thinks he is, that even if he was it wouldn’t matter, that he thought he was the shallow one, and that he is so hot he might just come right then and there.
Sean doesn’t believe a single word (apart from the last one, because Orlando’s erection cannot be denied), but somehow when he is kneeling on the floor, arms curled up on the bed, and Orlando’s fingers enter him, lips scorching hot against the small of his back, and his eyes aren’t worried about the view anymore, because the only thing he can look at are the bedspread and the opened windows, well, then he thinks things aren’t so bad.
Please review! <3