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A Day in the Life	By : Dhvana Category: Individual Celebrities > Colin Farrell Views: 3783 -:- Recommendations : 0 -:- Currently Reading : 0
Disclaimer: This is a work of fiction. I do not know Colin Farrell. I do not make any money from the writing of this story.

Chapter List
- 1-A Day in the Life
- 1
DISCLAIMER: Not mine, no harm intended, no profit made.

A Day in the Life

Colin Farrell looked around the room and tried to appear gracious.

Yeah, right. That lasted about thirty fucking seconds before he decided he’d had enough of this shit and headed for the door. Since arriving in L.A., he’d barely had time for his kid, so he sure as fuck didn’t have time for some bullshit awards show where he wasn’t even a fucking presenter, much less a nominee. Good press be damned. He just wanted a smoke, a beer, and a night outside of this life. Just one fucking night--was that really so much to ask?

He had the limo hired to carry his arse to the ceremony drive a couple of streets away from the flashing cameras and got out. Throwing the requisite jacket and tie in the back, he dismissed the car, telling the driver to have a good night and he’d catch a cab home. He watched the black shadow disappear into the night and began walking down the street.

Business taken care of, he tapped out a cigarette from the pack in his pocket and lit it, his body desperately inhaling the nicotine. Fucking anti-smoking laws had him in a constant state of craving that made him jumpier than usual. It amused him when people told him that with all the regular exercise he’d been getting lately, they thought he might have dropped this habit.

Not fucking likely.

If nothing else, his hardening muscles meant he’d be able to abuse his body just a little bit more and not have to worry as much about the consequences.

And speaking of abuse, his salvation was ahead. A bar! Though the extent of his salvation would depend on what kind of beer they had, and how much they watered it down.

Finishing off the cigarette--fucking anti-smoking laws--he entered the barely lit establishment and headed straight for the counter where he ordered an Amstel Light followed by an Amstel Light chaser. He finished off the first within a minute, and as two out of three of his major cravings had been sated, he took his time with the second and scoured the bar for a way to satisfy the final one.

It being a Saturday night, every healthy horny human being was out searching for that special someone to last them through an orgasm or two. He had to love the way the world worked these days. Who needed true love or a long-term relationship when a one night stand could give you everything you needed with none of the hassle?

Well, he supposed that wasn’t entirely true. He happened to be a strong believer in love and thought that, maybe, one day, he might take into consideration possibly settling down, if he could find the right woman. She’d have to be someone who wouldn’t mind the swearing, or the drinking, or the smoking, or the actor’s life. Someone who’d be strong enough to put up with his shit, but still feel free to tell him to go to hell when he’d gone too far. Someone with a sense of humor. Someone who would love his family. Someone with a great smile. Someone who was supportive. Someone who enjoyed sex, and lots of it. Someone who would adore him, and whom he would adore.

But until he found her, that guy would do.

Finishing his beer, he walked across the bar to where the young man was standing, chatting with some girl. Upon catching sight of him, the man sent her away and greeted him with frank brown eyes.

“Farrell.”

“Bloom.”

“How’s tricks?”

Colin grinned at the smirk on the other’s face. “Plentiful, as always. You?”

He shrugged. “Too many offers, too few worth considering.”

“You need to broaden your mind.”

“You need to narrow yours.”

“Are you calling me a slut?”

“If the condom fits. . .”

“Like a glove. Wanna see?”

“Are you propositioning me?”

“Only if you’re accepting.”

“I don’t accept shags from strangers.”

“I’m not a stranger.”

“There are few stranger.”

“Flattery will get you everywhere.”

“I don’t want to go everywhere.”

“Then it will get you where you want to go.”

“How do you know where I want to go?”

Colin reached out and placed a hand over the bulge in the other’s pants, a bulge that matched his own. “I always know,” he said, a hint of predator seeping into his voice. “And I always get you there.”

“You do at that,” he answered, his voice a little breathless, and the playful banter took an abrupt turn. “Men’s room?”

“Fuck, yeah.”

He took Colin by the hand and began leading him through the bar. “You’d better have that condom on you. I know where you’ve been.”

“And where’s that?”

“You want names? Because it would be easier to list those you haven’t fucked.”

“Who on god’s green Earth ever convinced you that you have a sense of humor?”

“Why? You want to ask them to join in?”

“Would they say yes?”

“Actually,” he said thoughtfully, pushing open the door and shoving Colin inside, “they might.”

“Something to be considered for next time,” the Irishman said, and waited until the door was locked before pouncing.

Their hungry mouths met in fierce battle as they tried to establish dominance while fingers dove between layers of cloth in search of bare skin. Orlando moaned as a hand curled around his cock and Colin gave a smug smile. The first one to moan was always the one who got the shaft, so to speak. He spun the young man around and pushed the denim down over the tightly rounded buttocks.

“You’ve been working out,” he said, giving the olive skin a light slap.

“So kind of you to notice considering your interest only lies in my arse.”

Colin pinched a peaked nipple and Orlando yelped. “No more sass out of you.”

“Only if you promise to do that again.”

“Masochist.”

“Sadist.”

“I’m not a sadist, luv,” he said, falling to his knees on the grimy floor, bringing his face in direct line with the dusky cheeks. “I’m a hedonist. Huge difference.”

“But with the same results.”

“Yes,” Colin said, parting the ass in front of him and grazing his tongue across the puckered hole. Orlando hissed and pushed against him, but he took firm hold and forced the young man still. Daintily licking the opening, for there were a few things he did do daintily, especially if his dainty actions would result in prolonging Orlando’s pleasurable suffering, he swiped his tongue across the resistant entrance, gradually working his way inside.

“I thought this was supposed to be quick,” Orlando growled through clenched teeth.

“Some things are worth doing slowly.”

“Not in a public loo.”

Colin grunted in response and thrust his tongue in again. Orlando gasped, and slammed the door with his fist.

“Dammit, Farrell!”

The Irishman just grinned, repeating his action until the young man was literally mewling with unrequited pleasure. It was all he could do to keep the squirming body under control as he made sure Orlando was loose and ready.

“If you don’t fuck me now,” the Brit snarled having reached the end of his patience, “so help me, I will tear your tongue from your head, stuff it, preserve it, and use it as my personal plug for the rest of my days.”

Chuckling, Colin looked up into the dilated eyes. “My tongue thinks it would almost be worth it.”

“You’re one sick fuck, you know that?”

“You’re the one getting fucked here,” he countered as he pulled a condom from his pocket, “not me.”

“Go to hell.”

“In a few minutes,” Colin said, rising to his feet and readying himself at Orlando’s entrance. “Bloom for me.”

The younger man rolled his eyes but spread his legs a little further apart, his palms pressed against the door as he waited for the invasion. He didn’t have to wait long. Colin entered him with one swift thrust, leaving them both gasping and scratch marks in the door.

“Careful. You’ll ruin your nails.”

“I believe those are yours,” Orlando said and pushed back. Coin groaned and pressed them both against the hard surface, giving himself a moment before he lost it all.

Having regained a modicum of control, he grabbed onto Orlando’s hips, pulling out and thrusting in again. For a while, his whole world consisted only of the feel of the tight heat surrounding him, the stifled moans from the man in front of him, the flickering overhead light, and the seductive throbbing bass from the music beyond the door. Without even realizing it, he began moving in time with the music, pushing steadily inside Orlando with an occasional roll to his hips that had the younger man begging for more.

“Goddamnit, Farrell, quit dancing and fuck me already!”

“What can I say? I’ve got rhythm. I’ve got music. Who could ask for anything. . . oh, god, more!”

He could sense the satisfaction of Orlando’s smugness as the muscles clenched around him and he tried his damnedest not to give the bastard the pleasure of seeing him squirm, but, fuck! it felt good.

“Cunt,” Colin grumbled.

“Wanker,” Orlando replied with a hint of fondness, and the Irishman couldn’t help but smile. He increased his rhythm, quickly learning to ignore the music as he answered the needs of his body until he lost himself in the sensation of the Brit. Thrusting madly, he sought only the friction needed to ease the growing demand in his loins. Moving faster, pushing harder, both of them were crying out a combination of swear words and encouragement as they neared their completion.

Throwing his head back and nearly cracking Colin in the skull as he did so, Orlando shuddered from his hair to his toes, followed a few seconds later by an answering shudder from the Irishman. They melted into each other, Colin still rolling his hips to ease the aftershocks. Finally, he withdrew and the two took a few moments to make themselves presentable to the world.

As Orlando moved to unlock the door, Colin grabbed him and pulled him into a kiss that sent entirely different shocks through their bodies.

“Always nice to while away the time with you, Bloom,” he said, reaching past his flushed companion to open the door.

“Yeah, well, next time, you’re going to be the one whiled,” Orlando grumbled, pushing past him, a hand on his arm and lips against his ears making him pause.

“You know you love being whiled by me,” he whispered huskily and sending a shiver through the Brit, who turned to smirk at him.

“I never said I didn’t.” He kissed Colin one last time, and was gone.

Chuckling, the Irishman ran a hand through his messy hair and headed back to the bar, in search of another beer. It was time to return to his first two vices, who were craving his attention now that his third had been more than adequately sated for one night.

As he sipped at his beer, brown eyes met his from across the room, and winked. He grinned in return, relieved that love was not in any hurry so long as there were men like Orlando Bloom out there.

[Completed August 17, 2004]
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A Day in the Life