Title: Weird Science
Summary: Two medical researchers race to beat a deadline.
Disclaimer: This story is a work of fiction, which means that while the characters depicted are based on public personas of real celebrities, the events described in the story never happened. This story in no way claims to represent the truth about the people mentioned within or the way they would behave.
Orlando Bloom had been born to be a scientist.
Since his fourth birthday, when he'd begged for a little white coat and his very own protective eyewear and the Mattel L'il Scientist Test Tubes N' Beakers Play Set, his enthusiasm had never wavered.
Now, here he was: Chief Research Assistant at the premiere institute in Europe. His dream job.
And, he thought miserably as he hurried down the pristine white hallway toward Laboratory 1A, about to disappoint the man whose approval he craved most.
Located in Glasgow, the Center Of Independent Testicular and Urological Studies was the most prestigious facility of its kind. It was known worldwide for its rock-solid methodologies and climactic results. Only three doctoral candidates had been invited to complete internships here this year.
Only one of those three had been assigned to this, the Center's most important research project in a decade.
Orlando Bloom had been that one.
The client -- the manufacturer of ViGayRa -- had been about to begin marketing its product to the much desired homosexual male market segment. Though the formula was basically the same as its predecessor, it'd been renamed and repackaged to appeal to the target.
Ugly rumors had been swirling, though, that the product failed miserably when used in male/male couplings. The whispers went on to insinuate that the additional testosterone present in homosexual encounters was the problem, that it reacted with the product in such a way that it actually decreased virility.
Basically, the word on the street was that ViGayRa was instant disaster for homosexual sex.
Everyone in the industry knew that it was all a tactic of an underhanded competitor hoping to delay release of the new brand and thereby gain time to copy the product's formula. But consumers didn't know that, and thus the manufacturer was trapped into proving the product's effectiveness in male/male encounters.
That's when they'd contacted Glasgow. Considering the huge sales potential -- or loss -- there was no question: they needed the best.
They needed COITUS.
And so the Potential Excitement Negation Issues Study was designed. ViGayRa would be administered to healthy, pre-assessed males. Each would be closely observed in sexual interaction with another male, then re-assessed to determine whether the additional testosterone present was in fact diminishing virility.
Orlando had arrived at the perfect time to come on board this very visible project. As Chief Research Assistant, he was charged with procuring test subjects, observing the experiments, and recording meticulous observations. Orlando knew that when it was over and he had finished his PhD next year, he'd have his pick of job offers. The world would be his oyster.
But much more important to him, Orlando had quickly come to realize, was the chance to work with world-renowned researcher and COITUS Director, Dr. William Boyd.
Dr. Boyd was the mastermind behind the PENIS. His credentials were impeccable. His experience in research of this kind was unparalleled. The biggest and the best drug corporations clamored for his services.
No one knew penises better.
On a personal level, Dr. Boyd had proved to be both bold and inspiring in his leadership and gently understanding when Orlando felt a bit lost now and then. He seemed to effortlessly walk the line between overseer, teacher, and colleague.
And he walked that line with the most adorable arse Orlando had ever seen.
Orlando rushed into the laboratory to find Dr. Boyd bent over the counter, intent on his work. He allowed himself a moment to appreciate the sight. Small, perfectly formed shoulders flexed under the clean white lab coat as Dr. Boyd reached for a pipettor. Tantalizing fingers fondled semen samples with seductive skill. Gently pointed ear tips glowed a lovely pink where they peeked out from the sterilized cleanroom cap.
"You've returned! Have you had any success?"
Orlando felt his spirits plunge at the sight of Dr. Boyd's hopeful countenance.
"I'm so sorry, Dr. Boyd. I've been to two university campuses, three drinking establishments, and a roller-skating rink. I've even spoken with several individuals who appeared to be waiting for a bus a few kilometers from here. But I could find no one willing to replace our final two subjects."
Orlando decided not to mention the cuff on the ear he'd received from one burly chap he'd approached, or the half dozen hastily scribbled phone numbers thrust upon him that were now in residence in his lab coat pocket.
Anyway, the only phone number Orlando desired was that of the despondent man standing in front of him.
"Oh dear, oh dear...," Dr. Boyd muttered, his accent lyrical to Orlando's ear even now. "The deadline for our results is nearly upon us. It would seem that I'm about to disappoint a client for the first time."
Orlando drew a reinforcing breath.
"I did have an idea," he said cautiously. "Would it be completely unacceptable if... if we were to serve as the final participants?"
Dr. Boyd's eyes widened. "Oh, Mr. Bloom, I -- I couldn't impose...."
"No, no, Dr. Boyd, it wouldn't be an imposition! The ViGayRa people are counting on us! The oversight was mine; I should've recruited a larger pool of subjects in case anyone backed out like this."
"You couldn't have known that 'A Very Musical Tribute to Judy Garland' would be held over for one more night," Dr. Boyd soothed, true to form. "I can hardly blame our subjects for choosing a lovely evening out over participation in a clinical study."
"Well, I don't understand it," Orlando retorted. "I can't imagine a more enjoyable way to spend an evening than in the lab with you. Working, of course." Orlando wrung his hands. "Please, Dr. Boyd, I'll feel just terrible if your reputation is sullied by not delivering the PENIS as promised. Won't you allow me to redeem myself? I realize it's... unorthodox, but I really think we can pull this off."
Seconds passed before Dr. Boyd sighed. "I suppose... I suppose it would be nice to try to save the study. Thank you, Mr. Bloom."
Orlando wasted no time on nervousness as he ushered Dr. Boyd into the testing room. He left the lights off in the tiny observation room; no one would be watching from behind the one-way glass this evening. He checked that the door was securely locked behind them and turned to find his mentor standing in the center of the sparse room, appearing rather apprehensive.
"If you'll be so kind as to measure the dosages, Dr. Boyd, I'll get the tray set up." He busied himself in laying out the necessities: clean data sheets on the clipboard, measuring tape, skinfold calipers, Barry White CD. Then he excused himself to step into one of the two tiny changing rooms.
Two minutes later, Orlando gingerly seated himself on the plastic-covered double bed in the corner of the testing room, rather futilely attempting to carefully fold the paper gown so it would cover his backside.
Dr. Boyd stepped out of his changing room, tentatively clutching at his own paper gown. Orlando tried and failed to keep his eyes from sliding down over sweetly knobby knees and pale, masculine calves before resting on black socks and ergonomically-correct work shoes.
"Uh, perhaps we should move ahead with the pre-assessment?" Orlando urged, becoming sinkingly aware that his own body was already beginning to exhibit symptoms of arousal.
Dr. Boyd hesitated. "Are you quite sure, Mr. Bloom, that you are comfortable? I would be most distressed if you were to regret... well, if things were to become... awkward... between us. As colleagues, of course."
"I'm sure." Orlando nodded with more confidence than he felt. "Shall I assess you first?" Orlando picked up his measuring tape.
Dr. Boyd sat down next to Orlando, took an audible breath, and lifted his gown from his lap.
Orlando steeled himself against visions of sleepy warm kittens curled up together and somehow managed to record the necessary length measurements. Then, gathering every millilitre of professionalism he could muster, he gently lifted Dr. Boyd's penis to collect the girth data with the calipers.
So luxurious was the skin in his hand that Orlando understood with sudden clarity why men had risked death to bring silk home from ancient China.
Then Orlando was lifting his own paper gown as deft fingers moved warmly over him. He struggled to hear Dr. Boyd's lilting tenor over the pounding of his own pulse in his ears.
"Length in the flaccid state is 10.9 cm," Dr. Boyd reported, then paused. "Er, 11.4 cm."
Orlando unsteadily erased what he'd already written.
"Well, actually, 11.8 cm... uh, 12.2...."
Orlando shut his eyes, pencil hovering in midair.
"Perhaps we'll just go with the 10.9 cm," Dr. Boyd said quietly.
Orlando recorded the figure and dropped his gown in relief.
Now for the administration of the ViGayRa formula. He accepted the vial that Dr. Boyd handed him.
"Bottoms up," Dr. Boyd murmured. They clinked test tubes and drank.
They sat in silence for a few moments as the drug began to permeate their systems.
"I'd like you to know: the Center is not my only concern, nor is my own reputation." Dr. Boyd's voice was soft, his eyes focused on the floor in front of them.
Orlando swallowed. "No?"
"You're a brilliant young researcher, Mr. Bloom. I've no doubt you have a wonderful career ahead of you. I would be most... distressed if the failure of this project were to reflect badly on you."
"You... you consider me brilliant?"
"Oh yes; yes, most certainly." Dr. Boyd looked up at Orlando, then back to the floor. "I must confess... since I first read your paper, Swimming Pool Shrinkage: Cold Or Chlorine?, I've very much wanted to have you in COITUS."
"Dr. Boyd... I don't know what to say. I'm -- I'm honoured." Orlando scuffed a bare toe along a chilly industrial-grade floor tile.
A smile lifted the corners Dr. Boyd's china doll mouth. "As am I, that you chose to come here to work with me. There's no one I'd rather have handling my PENIS."
Orlando looked up from his paper gown-covered lap.
"The... the Potential Excitement Negation Issues Study," Dr. Boyd stumbled, cheeks coloring.
"Oh," Orlando murmured. "Of course."
The sterility of the room seemed to fade against the sensual warmth in the gaze they shared.
The timer on Orlando's watch sounded. The formula would by now be fully integrated into their bloodstreams.
"Shall we - - would you... like to lie down?" Dr. Boyd lay back, keeping his shod feet professionally planted on the floor.
Orlando followed suit, slowly reclining alongside his mentor. His heart rate seemed to triple when he felt Dr. Boyd's hand lightly squeeze his own where it lay between them. He returned the caress before moving to slide a tentative palm over Dr. Boyd's hip.
Dr. Boyd moaned softly, causing Orlando's penis to engorge even further in response. Orlando wondered foggily if perhaps he should have procured a longer measuring tape for the post-assessment.
Orlando's fingers skated over the private skin. His breath caught, and again, as Dr. Boyd's warm hand moved to fondle his inner thigh and whisper-brushed against his sac.
Mere moments later, Orlando was - - well, there was no other word for it - - writhing against the bed as Dr. Boyd's small fist closed around Orlando's penis, his paper gown having quickly abandoned his groin and worked its way up around his ribs. Orlando's own hand first cupped and then greedily grasped Dr. Boyd. He thrilled at the man's passionate reaction.
Orlando squeezed his eyes shut and willed his shoulders to stay planted on the bed, lest he lose the last vestiges of professionalism and simply climb onto and hump his captivating mentor.
He could not, however, restrain his hips from pumping madly into Dr. Boyd's knowing grip. The rhythmic crunching sounds of the plastic sheet beneath them only served to further inflame Orlando's desire. At the heady realization that his hand was now covered with the professor's semen, Orlando gave in to the most ambrosial orgasm he could remember.
Sense returned to him only after several moments of brain-melting nirvana.
"Quickly," Orlando gasped, "the post-assessment!"
Dr. Boyd rolled away to reach the tape measure and calipers, his rumpled, rucked-up paper gown failing to provide him any modesty. Orlando squinted in bliss as the overhead fluorescent lighting glinted off the perfect, pale buttocks of his mentor, momentarily blinding him.
With the post-assessment measurements quickly fumbled through and recorded, Orlando again flopped backward onto the sparse bed, still panting. He reminded himself of the reason for what had just occurred between them. They'd succeeded; they'd completed the study. Dr. Boyd's reputation was secure.
Leaning up on one elbow, Dr. Boyd took a precisely folded white towel from the stack on the metal cabinet next to the bed and slowly, tenderly dabbed at the splatters of semen on Orlando's abdomen. Orlando looked up at him with surprise and not a little hope.
Dr. Boyd bent further, bringing their faces close, but Orlando stayed him with a gentle hand.
"I feel I should warn you, Dr. Boyd," he whispered, "that I suspect that I could easily become... emotionally attached... if kissing were to be included in the experiment."
Orlando held his breath.
Dr. Boyd closed his eyes and touched sweet lips to Orlando's in slow, tidal brushes. After long moments, he lifted his head and smiled.
"Call me Billy."