title: shade
author: annie oates
fandom: lotr|rps/the endless
rairing: sean bean/orlando bloom, despair.
rating: r to nc-17
archive: ask.
disclaimers: not real. not mine. deny everything.
warnings: rps, not the kindest characterization of bean
summery: sean reflects.
feedback: always welcome.



He hadn't meant for this to happen.

It was a standard practice, this soul-searching. Standing before a mirror and looking at his reflection staring back at him.

Finding flaws.

The jaw - that line wasn't right.

He would re-read the script and make the adjustments. Yellow highlighter clutching the words and sending them to his throat where they would sit with an acid twist.

He'd look into the eyes gazing back at him and search until he found what he was looking for... gleaming wit, far too arrogant to long sustain. Greed, last-chanced and haggard. The black and the yellow taunted him. Lord. Man. Brother. Weak.

It swirled in his mind as his counterpart's lips contorted and whispered, "Sacrifice."

Sean suppressed a shudder and ran through his lines. He thought that perhaps one day he would come to regret this practice.

It wasn't until he caught his glance in a mirror, with Orlando's throat tightening around his length that he fully realized this.

An agile tongue traced the vein stretched along the underside of his cock and he set his jaw, drew his brows together. It didn't fit the part. He continued, making adjustments to his stature, his expression.

He focused on his hands in the mirror, rough skin with manicured nails, as they gripped the head of the kneeling Orlando. He ran his thumbs over the shaved scalp, stubble catching at each movement. It was sharp, and an uneasy feeling grew within him. Running the edge of a nail along the lines where bared skin met the silk of the mohawk, Sean felt as though he was balancing blades.

Beautiful, dangerous. Something he could lose himself to on a moonless night.

Orlando, who could never seem to turn down the chance of touch, hummed his approval and swallowed around him.

Sean felt a cruel burst of sparks at the base of his spine.

His lips pulled back in an almost-snarl and he looked again to the witness in the glass whose eyes were dully, piteously empty. Sean frowned and tried again to find the missing piece. His hips began thrusting at a pre-programmed pace and he kept his eyes locked on the mirror, struggling to suss out that final bit of character before the scene ended.

Orlando's hands came up and wrapped around his hips, skin gleaming dully in the dingy, green light of the storm. Sean's grip tightened and he felt a brutal urge rip through him. His fingers tensed on the rounded bones and he slipped a hand into the sheaf of hair, tugging lightly from the roots. Orlando pulled back and gulped air, but Sean traced a finger over the stubble, against the grain, and Orlando took him back into his mouth.

He never could say no.

Long fingers slipped over Sean's hip and between his thighs, cupping, rolling and then extending to press a knuckle against the soft skin behind. Sean rocked on his feet and tightened his grip, feeling a few strands give way to the pull. His body following Orlando's pace, his muscles contracted and focused on the wet heat surrounding his cock.

But behind the cold glass the man stood hollow. A marionette waiting for his master to come and tug his strings.

With a buck of his hips, Sean grunted and released his bitter seed. Orlando swallowed and tried to pull back but Sean held him close, in grip that was almost vicious. Orlando acquiesced and nuzzled the soft skin of Sean's groin.

Sean stared at his shadow-self, at the black pupils reflecting nothing.

Where is it? He searched and felt a savage rage build within him. He looked to the black and felt a void. The thin line of blue surrounded them with sky and he thought about falling. Orlando stroked his thigh in a careful line and Sean felt a whisper across his skin. His knees trembled as he looked into the quiet gaze of the glass and felt Despair.

.

Later, upon returning to his room, he opened the door and stood outside for a moment. Feeling as though he were intruding on something secret, some.. sacred space. The room had been cleaned, but his shirt from the evening before lay where it had landed, sprawled across the back of the chair, draping like wings. It's twin lay discarded in the shadow of the glass - an abandoned skin and he took a step back, allowing the door to fall shut.

One hand against the door, he listened and saw the light shine from the glass of the peephole. In it, he saw his reflection, distorted and upside down. His alien eyes looking back at him, mouth turned up in a mockery of a smile from a hanged man. A shadow passed by on the other side of the door, leaving ruined eyes in sharp relief from the black behind it. Sean jerked his hand away and stumbled back from the door. His shoulder smacked into the opposite wall and he turned with the force, heading off in the direction of Orlando's room.

Sean looked back at his door, the glass a pin-point of light in the dark wood and thought this was one invitation he wouldn't accept.

But Orlando... he never could say no.

end.