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http://users.livejournal.com/_giveitup4love/) wrote in ![[community profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/community.png)
fellowshippers2004-07-20 02:48 pm
http://users.livejournal.com/_giveitup4love/) wrote in fellowshippers2004-07-20 02:48 pm
(no subject)
This took an unexpected turn, but I think it works.
LotR RPS
Implied Dom/Billy, explicit Dom/Elijah
R, language and somewhat sexual
Standard disclaimer (ie, fiction and not mine).
Comfort
Some days Dom is so exhausted he thinks he’s going to fall over dead in his tracks and sleep on the sidewalk. When he gets home, he collapses on the sofa and turns on the television, hoping the phone won’t ring so he won’t have to get up and answer it. He won’t just let it ring. He never does.
And he sleeps on the sofa and feels the afternoon slip away quietly into evening, and when he wakes up it’s not cloudy gray outside anymore but blue-black, almost 7. Another day he knows he has wasted, but he honestly just couldn’t keep his eyes open.
At this point it’s snowing, and the tiny pseudo-flakes are swirling down steadily, at least from what he can tell. The light outside his front door only illuminates a triangle of space, so he can only be sure it’s snowing there, as everything else is dark. But he assumes it’s snowing outside the rest of his house, too. And he thinks how much he hates snow, which isn’t really true, but he hates snow in March.
But he’s not going to get into his irrational hates and dislikes of things that people don’t usually expend energy hating, like weather in certain months, or certain times of the day or having foods that begin with the same two letters touching on his dinner plate, because really, the list is far too long and he’s wasted enough of the day sleeping as it is.
For a while, this sleeping thing had him suspecting he was ill. A cold perhaps, or maybe even mono. You get ridiculously tired when you have mono, don’t you? And when he thought of it, his pancreas had been feeling strange lately…
But when he sat down and was honest with himself, he knew.
He was tired because sleeping was the only effective way of escaping things he knew of.
A big gigantic gaping hole by his side where someone used to be all the time, someone whose name may or may not be Billy Boyd.
He practically had to redecorate his whole goddamned apartment when Billy went back to Scotland. He couldn’t turn left without running into something that reminded him of what was missing.
Getting rid of everything was impossibly slow. Maybe because every few minutes he had to lie down on the floor on the verge of tears. Maybe he just didn’t want to lose it.
And then, Elijah. Fucking Elijah.
Elijah came around with his stupid sympathy that Dom wanted none of, and he just couldn’t go away, could he? No, Elijah came by nearly every day and lay down on the floor next to Dominic, who would usually be surrounded by pictures of Billy, and would whisper calming things.
He tried to tell Elijah to fuck off, but he wouldn’t listen, just made sad puppy dog eyes at him, telling him that it was okay.
So when Elijah let himself into the apartment that day, with the snow swirling down outside, he found Dominic under an afghan quilt on the sofa. He lifted the quilt and lay down next to Dom. Uninvited, thought Dom, but didn’t bother to say it.
“I know today must be rough,” Elijah said quietly. “What with it being a year ago that… well, you know. But, it’s okay, Dom, I’m really here for you.”
Dom was facing the back of the sofa, and Elijah was facing Dom’s back, whispering into his ear. And then he wasn’t whispering anymore, but he was kissing his neck, and rubbing his arm lightly.
“Oh, Jesus Christ, Elijah!” Dom explodes, and shoves him off the sofa none too gently. “What the fuck do you want? Is that why you’re here? Comforting me when I don’t want to be comforted, because you think you can take his place? You’ll never be Billy, Elijah! Never.”
Elijah just sits on the floor, gazing up at Dom pathetically, and Dom shoves him backwards, so he’s flat on his back, and kisses his violently, ignoring the noises Elijah makes when he bites down too hard.
He takes off Elijah’s shirt, and then his pants. Elijah does the same.
“Is this what you wanted?” he whispers harshly as he thrusts into Elijah.
“Yes,” Elijah whispers back, and his arms flail around as he whimpers, knocking everything off the small table near the couch, including the one picture of Billy that Dom had dared to leave out.
fin.
LotR RPS
Implied Dom/Billy, explicit Dom/Elijah
R, language and somewhat sexual
Standard disclaimer (ie, fiction and not mine).
Some days Dom is so exhausted he thinks he’s going to fall over dead in his tracks and sleep on the sidewalk. When he gets home, he collapses on the sofa and turns on the television, hoping the phone won’t ring so he won’t have to get up and answer it. He won’t just let it ring. He never does.
And he sleeps on the sofa and feels the afternoon slip away quietly into evening, and when he wakes up it’s not cloudy gray outside anymore but blue-black, almost 7. Another day he knows he has wasted, but he honestly just couldn’t keep his eyes open.
At this point it’s snowing, and the tiny pseudo-flakes are swirling down steadily, at least from what he can tell. The light outside his front door only illuminates a triangle of space, so he can only be sure it’s snowing there, as everything else is dark. But he assumes it’s snowing outside the rest of his house, too. And he thinks how much he hates snow, which isn’t really true, but he hates snow in March.
But he’s not going to get into his irrational hates and dislikes of things that people don’t usually expend energy hating, like weather in certain months, or certain times of the day or having foods that begin with the same two letters touching on his dinner plate, because really, the list is far too long and he’s wasted enough of the day sleeping as it is.
For a while, this sleeping thing had him suspecting he was ill. A cold perhaps, or maybe even mono. You get ridiculously tired when you have mono, don’t you? And when he thought of it, his pancreas had been feeling strange lately…
But when he sat down and was honest with himself, he knew.
He was tired because sleeping was the only effective way of escaping things he knew of.
A big gigantic gaping hole by his side where someone used to be all the time, someone whose name may or may not be Billy Boyd.
He practically had to redecorate his whole goddamned apartment when Billy went back to Scotland. He couldn’t turn left without running into something that reminded him of what was missing.
Getting rid of everything was impossibly slow. Maybe because every few minutes he had to lie down on the floor on the verge of tears. Maybe he just didn’t want to lose it.
And then, Elijah. Fucking Elijah.
Elijah came around with his stupid sympathy that Dom wanted none of, and he just couldn’t go away, could he? No, Elijah came by nearly every day and lay down on the floor next to Dominic, who would usually be surrounded by pictures of Billy, and would whisper calming things.
He tried to tell Elijah to fuck off, but he wouldn’t listen, just made sad puppy dog eyes at him, telling him that it was okay.
So when Elijah let himself into the apartment that day, with the snow swirling down outside, he found Dominic under an afghan quilt on the sofa. He lifted the quilt and lay down next to Dom. Uninvited, thought Dom, but didn’t bother to say it.
“I know today must be rough,” Elijah said quietly. “What with it being a year ago that… well, you know. But, it’s okay, Dom, I’m really here for you.”
Dom was facing the back of the sofa, and Elijah was facing Dom’s back, whispering into his ear. And then he wasn’t whispering anymore, but he was kissing his neck, and rubbing his arm lightly.
“Oh, Jesus Christ, Elijah!” Dom explodes, and shoves him off the sofa none too gently. “What the fuck do you want? Is that why you’re here? Comforting me when I don’t want to be comforted, because you think you can take his place? You’ll never be Billy, Elijah! Never.”
Elijah just sits on the floor, gazing up at Dom pathetically, and Dom shoves him backwards, so he’s flat on his back, and kisses his violently, ignoring the noises Elijah makes when he bites down too hard.
He takes off Elijah’s shirt, and then his pants. Elijah does the same.
“Is this what you wanted?” he whispers harshly as he thrusts into Elijah.
“Yes,” Elijah whispers back, and his arms flail around as he whimpers, knocking everything off the small table near the couch, including the one picture of Billy that Dom had dared to leave out.
fin.