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Tullamore Dew	By : Nyssa Category: Individual Celebrities > Colin Farrell Views: 4824 -:- 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
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Thanks so much for the lovely reviews, I'm glad you enjoy the story so far! Hope you like the rest, too! ;-)

Oh and I made a photo-manipulation for this story. If you would like to check it out, this is where to go:
http://home.arcor.de/archer_and_warrior/fanart/colin&orlando.jpg

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The party wasn’t bad... He’d revelled with Elijah and Dominic, and also Liv had stayed for a while and they had taken a trip down memory lane and had laughed together, but now he somehow is in no laughing mood anymore. Somewhat nervously he twists the code card between his fingers and stares at the shut door of the hotel room in which something only God knows expects him. He’s a little tipsy, but not hammered enough to have no inhibitions at all and act without thinking. He was invited, he keeps repeating to himself over and over again, he was invited to this place... he is expected, he doesn’t force himself on anyone, and he doesn’t make a fool of himself when he actually enters this room. For a moment he considers knocking on the door, but on the other hand Colin handed him the keys, didn’t he? What for if not for using them? Orlando takes a deep breath and pulls the card through the slit of the lock mechanism, the little green light flashes up, he carefully opens the door and enters.

The room is huge. Huge sofa, huge TV which is switched on, huge bed with rumpled bed-clothes. Rumpled. Orlando feels hot and cold at the same time as his imagination runs wild. He forces himself to tear his gaze from the obviously heavily used bed and takes a look around in the rest of the room instead. No Colin anywhere, but the stylish suit which the actor had been wearing at the awards show lies on the carpet, crumpled, carelessly thrown to the floor. And now Orlando also notices the rush of water from the room next door. Holy shit, here he is in the middle of the hotel room of one of Hollywood’s hottest new actors, and said guy is showering in the bathroom next door... Maybe he should leave again, after all it’s extremely late in the night already... or rather extremely early in the morning.

Orlando’s hand already rests on the door knob when the music videos which were booming out of the abnormally big TV are interrupted by a commercial break. A memorable melody now jingles from the speakers, and a pleasant voice proclaims, “Tullamore Dew is a favourite among Irish whiskeys for its distinctive, accessible taste.“

Orlando back-pedals and curses himself as his thoughts again run wild and his blood starts to boil. Even though he doesn’t like to admit it, he would very much like to find out if this praising statement of the commercial applies to both of these prestigious objects of Ireland – the whiskey and Colin Farrell...

“Sip it slowly - on its own, over ice or with a little water - and it will reveal the secrets of its gentle Irish character“, the voice in the commercial continues sweetly, and Orlando can practically see ice cubes glide all over Colin Farrell’s muscular and naked upper body. Guided by Orlando’s hands. Or better yet, by his mouth… He lets go of the door knob again and turns back to the room while the jingle of the commercial seems to talk to him like a sweet promise, “Taste the real Irish flavour!“, and as if this was the introduction for his appearance, the door to the bathroom opens and a freshly showered, tousled Colin Farrell enters the room. Much to Orlando’s disappointment he’s not wrapped in only a towel or a bathrobe, but is dressed in casual wear. Jeans, black T-shirt, that’s it. Suddenly Orlando feels totally stupid in his suit which he’s still wearing. Actually he felt stupid for the whole evening, next to Colin who bristles with self-confidence and arrogance and manliness. And he…? Well, at first glance he, too, is loud and wild and extroverted, yet deeply inside he often feels small and unsophisticated and foolish, especially compared to people who are like Colin. People who seem to simply crush him with their unbelievably intense presence. This Colin Farrell, who usually hangs out with a selected squad of the most exquisite VIPs, probably doesn’t even know who exactly he is...

“Now look who’s here“, Colin says. No greeting, only another teasing grin. “I didn’t think you’d stop by.“ A quick glance at the digital clock under the TV screen. It’s after four o’clock in the morning.

“I… I can still go back to the party, if that’s what you want“, Orlando stammers. Good God, since when do you stutter?! Get a grip, you moron...

Colin suppresses a burst of laughter. “I don’t think so“, he says, smirking, walks to the couch on bare feet, lowers and makes himself comfortable. He grabs the remote control and unmotivatedly switches through the channels, murmuring something about the fact that they show only shit on TV these days.

“Come and sit down“, he finally says louder, but without looking at Orlando who’s still rooted to the spot at the door. “Never fear, I don’t bite.“ Nervously, Orlando takes a seat next to the Irish actor who now looks him over from the side and with a grin adds, “Unless that turns you on.“

Jesus! Orlando feels a first slow stir in his lap. Oh no, please not… not yet... He tries hard to subdue his slowly swelling member with his will, but it doesn’t work very well. So he tries to concentrate on the television program that Colin got stuck with before throwing the remote control aside again. But just as Orlando has the feeling that his arousal starts to wear off again, there’s another commercial break, and as if this bloody whiskey was haunting him, another commercial for Tullamore Dew jumbles his colorful, raunchy thoughts...

“...with just a touch of spicy tones and a finish that is pleasantly smooth and gentle. Taste the real Irish flavor!“

As if hypnotized, Orlando stares at the screen, the blood pulses hot and fast through his tense body, and his mouth is completely dry as he opens it to say something without even noticing, and before he realizes what he’s doing he hoarsely asks, “And how exactly do you finish someone, Colin? Smooth and gentle, too?“

Orlando doesn’t get the chance to find back to himself and mentally slap himself for saying something that stupid, because Colin Farrell rasps out a “On the contrary“ and is suddenly all over him. Powerfully and energetically he tears the jacket from Orlando’s shoulders, almost rips of the buttons of his shirt as he opens it hastily, and Orlando can’t do anything but moan helplessly as a determined, somewhat untender but wonderfully warm hand finally strokes over his exposed chest, down over his bare belly, and then glides to his crotch, demandingly squeezing him through the fine material of his trousers.

“Oh God, shit, Colin –!“ Orlando grinds out, flabbergasted, while his cock swells to its full extent, and the rest of his body sinks into the cushions of the sofa, completely will- and powerless.

“Don’t tell me you really came here for just a drink“, Colin says, raises his hand from Orlando’s crotch and starts to unbuckle the belt of the younger man.

“Fuck, no“, Orlando moans as he feels the zipper of his trousers being undone, and when the hand of the Irishman firmly but not at all painfully closes around his bare erection, it takes his breath away. Heat floods his whole body, surges from his lap directly to his cheeks which without doubt are flushed with sheer arousal now, and he just can’t hold back the soft groans that lurk in his throat. He wants to, but doesn’t manage it. Damn it, but this arrogant bloke is too good, too sexy, too... oh, mmmh, oh yes... Orlando can’t remember that he ever got off like this at the simple touch of a hand, nothing more.

“Goodness gracious!“ Colin suddenly exclaims and, laughing softly, lets go of Orlando who’s all of a dither. “I guess we should take a short break. You’re nearly hyperventilating, sweetie.“

Unbelieving, Orlando watches with lust-clouded eyes as the other actor backs off, settles in his former position on the couch, next to Orlando, and then reaches out to cigarettes and lighter that lie on the small coffee table. Without ruffle or excitement Colin sticks one of the cigarettes between his lips, lights it and stares at the TV again.

What the hell...? Is this son of a bitch kidding me? He can’t seriously usher in like this and then back down again... the thoughts tumble in Orlando’s spinning head. Nobody had ever before treated him like this! Steadily keeping his eyes on Colin who keeps on smoking luxuriously, Orlando completely peels off his shirt, which, after Farrell’s attack, hangs loose and crumpled around his heated body. These bloody cigarettes seem to give him greater pleasure than anything else, there constantly seems to be a fag glued to the corner of his mouth, but Orlando would put an end to that now. I’m gonna show you what real pleasure feels like, you bigheaded bastard.

Determined, Orlando closes his trousers over his erection that’s still pulsing with desire, rises and moves to stand between Colin and the TV, forcing the Irishman to look at him instead of the screen. Orlando knows that he isn’t exactly ugly. He actually enjoys it when people look at him, and the glint in Colin’s dark eyes reveals to him that this man, who’s the embodiment of attractiveness and sex appeal, finds his looks delightful and desirable. Oh yes, Colin desires him, Orlando can see it very clearly in those brown eyes, and this notice which feels like a small victory somehow makes it so very easy for him to get down on the carpet between Colin’s nonchalantly spread legs. He places his hands on the Irishman’s thighs… beautifully muscular underneath his fingers and the denim... His gaze drops to the highly visible bulge at the crotch of the blue jeans. So Colin is hard, too… Exactly as aroused as Orlando, even though he doesn’t reveal it very much. The younger man looks up, looks directly into Colin’s eyes. And Colin looks down to him, with a lascivious sparkle in his eyes, like a hungry predator that focuses on its prey. Suddenly Orlando realizes that Colin waits. Waits for his prey to do something, and Orlando knows that he has to take the initiative now if he wants to have some fun tonight.

“I could suck you off“, Orlando hears himself say, and his voice sounds surprisingly self-confident, much to Orlando’s satisfaction. He sounds as if he expects Colin to ask him for this specific favour. Sure, he wants to explore and taste this irresistible man – taste the real Irish flavour, a thought ghosts through his mind – but he also wants Colin to beg for it. But of course he doesn’t. Orlando should have known…

“No“, Colin replies, reaches out and strokes a thumb along Orlando’s slightly parted, soft lips. “Although it’s a real shame...“ And with that, he pushes his thumb into the hot and moist cave of Orlando’s mouth, and Orlando can’t control himself, gently sucks on the intruder, lets his swift tongue toy with a cold silverring that’s on the penetrating digit. “You’ve got the most flawless mouth I’ve ever seen. It’s practically begging for a cock to suck on.“

The blunt and obscene words drive an even deeper blush to Orlando’s cheeks, although he usually isn’t really thin-skinned. But somehow everything sounds a lot dirtier when it comes out of Colin’s mouth.

“Oh yeah, I bet you’re ace at giving head, but...” Colin gently pulls his thumb from the eager mouth of the young man who kneels in front of him, half-naked, takes a pretty deep drag from his cigarette and slowly blows the smoke down into Orlando’s face.

“But what?“ Orlando asks without turning a hair. He won’t let this guy intimidate him. Not this guy who’s only one or two years older than him but calls him “sweetie” all along, treating Orlando as if he‘s some starry-eyed teenager who makes goo-goo eyes at him.

“I want to fuck you. And I don’t mean in your mouth“, Colin says with a voice so matter-of-factly as if he just declared that he wants to go shopping. He takes another drag, then stubs out the cigarette in the ashtray on the coffee table while the smoke streams from his nostrils, leans back unhurriedly and looks at Orlando with a question in his eyes. “What do you say, cutie pie? Do you believe you can handle me?“
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Tullamore Dew