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fellowshippers2004-09-15 08:30 am
dustyirish2003.livejournal.com) wrote in fellowshippers2004-09-15 08:30 am
Unhappy, Texas 1/?-DM/BB(eventually), OB/EW, brief DM/OFC(kindasorta)-NC17
Title: Unhappy, Texas 1/?
Author: Jen
Pairings: DM/BB(eventually- if Billy will only shape up), OB/EW, one-sided, brief DM/OFC (kindasorta)
Rating: NC17
Summary: There are no words in the English language that can possibly begin to describe this weirdness. ; ) But, I'll do my best: Orli and Lij try to mend Dom's broken heart with a change of scenery, while Billy stays in Scotland and keeps busy making the worst decision of his life.
This part: Orli sends Dom on an all-expenses paid trip to the worst little whorehouse in Texas.
Warnings: Brief het, only at the very beginning, descriptive m/m sex, what I suppose could be considered semi-non-con sex at the beginning, although it's not intended in that fashion at all. I'm just not completely sure of the definition, and would certainly rather put up the warning than risk offending anyone. : )
Disclaimer: This is a work of fiction. The author does not know, and is in no way affiliated with the persons mentioned in this work. No disrespect is intended to the persons mentioned in this work. No money is in any way being made from this piece of pure fiction.
Feedback: Would absolutely adore it.
A/N: This has to without doubt be the strangest thing I have ever written, and it only promises to get stranger as it goes along. It's times like this that I sincerely wonder what went wrong when my brain was being created. ; ) -Jen
Dom sat in the disheveled motel bed, naked as the day he was born, mortified beyond comprehension, and wondered for about the thousandth time that night what in the bloody *fuck* he'd been thinking. Alcohol hadn't even played a role in the evening's festivities; he was sober as a judge. The girl ('Whore, Monaghan! Whore!' the little voice in his head cried smugly) was propped on her elbow next to him giving him an odd look. No fucking wonder. How many blokes had she seen go limp and burst into tears when she attempted to shag them?
She pulled herself up alongside him and clumsily reached out to pat his arm, missing on the first try and swatting only air. Whatever alcohol he had foregone, she had obviously made up for in spades. She smelled like a brewery. She finally managed to land a consoling hand on his back.
"S'okay, honey-pie. Whassa matter? This your first time, sweetie? Ya'll scared?"
The sudden cloudburst ended as abruptly as it had begun, and now Dom simply wished for a quick and painless death to put an end to his humiliation. Or at the very least, some way to disappear into thin air. Where the fuck was Frodo's Ring when you really needed it?
Dom decided if he ever managed to get out of the horrible situation he was now in, his first point of business would be the slow and tortuous murder of Orlando Bloom. He tried to pinpoint the exact moment in time in which he had become mental enough to allow the elf control over his decision-making processes. Sure, his friends were worried sick because he hadn't been able to eat or sleep for over thirty six hours, and it was clear he was so depressed he was knocking on the door to suicidal. But only in Orlando's mind could the obvious solution to these problems be a nice romp in a seedy Texas motel room with a drunk whore.
'Ta very much, Orli! You enormous fucker.'
Of course, a good share of the blame also belonged to Orli's lover and partner in crime- Elijah. After all, it was his idea to go on such a stunningly moronic roadtrip in the first place. Some distant relative whom he’d never even met before had invited him down for some fun in the sun. He hadn't really taken the offer seriously until what he referred to in hushed tones as 'The Incident' had occurred. That's when he decided all that poor, heartbroken Dom really needed was a nice relaxing vacation. Therefore tomorrow, he, Lij, and Orli were going to meet up with Aunt Betty Lou and Uncle Joe Bob at the Ponderosa for a cow milking demonstration or hog calling competition or some such shite. Brilliant.
Try as he might, Dom could not find it within himself to blame the one person who was clearly at fault for everything. Billy. The man he had loved ever since he first laid eyes on him back in New Zealand. The man who had become his breath, his heart, his reason for living. The very same man who had phoned yesterday morning, bubbling over with excitement and joy, to invite Dom to his wedding. And not as the groom.
Garbled words drew him away from his morose thoughts, and he realized the girl was speaking to him. Or at least attempting to. She looked slightly miffed, and Dom could hardly blame her. He wanted nothing more in the world than to be out of that room, but unfortunately his mum had raised him to be polite. He couldn't just get up and leave without some kind of explanation.
"Sorry, didn't catch that, love. What did you say?"
"I assed if I did sumthin' wrong, or wha?", she slurred at him.
Dom did his best to translate. “It’s nothing you’ve done, love, believe me.”
"Then wha isit? Do hobbits get off different than normal guys ? Do I need ta play wi' your feet, or sumthin'?”
‘Oh, Christ in pyjamas, she’s recognized me!’, he thought with horror, then on the tail of that, a flash of wild hope. ‘Maybe she’ll think I’m Bills! Everyone *else* gets us bollixed up!’ Despite his depression and the mortifying situation he had fumbled his way into, he couldn't help an inward chuckle imagining the look on Billy’s face when he opened up one of those ridiculous tabloids at the grocery checkout line (the very same tabloids he indignantly denied reading, always claiming he was simply straightening the magazine rack if he was caught in the act, a mad blush creeping up his cheeks the entire while) and saw the blazing headline- "Prostitute Tells All! Hobbit Pippin Impotent!"
Unfortunately, any hope of mistaken identity was dashed with the whore's next slurred sentence. “Don’ matter none, Mister Merry-Hobbit, I could getta marble fuckin’ statue to cum.”
He cleared his throat nervously. "Really, love, no need, I think I'll just be..." His words were cut off abruptly as she bent down and took his left nipple between her teeth.
Dom had fantasized countless times about Billy doing the same to him, but not once had things ever gone quite like this. Dream-Billy was always gentle; lips applying sweet suction, tongue lovingly lapping, sending Dom to previously unknown heights of ecstasy. Unfortunately, the bird in bed with him now appeared to be channeling the Marquis de Sade. Wickedly sharp teeth attacked the tender flesh on his left, while rough, pinching fingers accosted the right. Just as Dom was about to cry uncle, she appeared to lose interest in her task. His breath whooshed out in relief, but was just as quickly sucked back in with a startled gasp as her head began to lower even further. She could only have one destination in mind.
Dom opened his mouth to ask her what she was doing, but was effectively silenced as he was shoved backwards onto the bed. He bleakly wondered if any of her other customers had survived to tell the tale. She couldn't possibly have much return business.
It seemed that she had made it her life's goal to bring the poor weepy hobbit to orgasm, no matter if they both died in the process. She now had Dom's dick in one hand, tugging on it impatiently, and was doing something extremely odd to his balls with the wickedly long fingernails of her other hand. Dom was more than a bit alarmed at this new development and found himself willing Junior to get hard, if only to save them both from some kind of unfortunate accident. But alas, Junior was having none of it; he was shrinking back even farther in fear for his life.
Dom was on the verge of shoving the girl off, etiquette be damned, when she unexpectedly stopped her ministrations, mumbled something along the lines of "Piddlyfuck", and passed out face first onto the bed.
Dom saw his chance and took it. He dressed as quietly as he could, gathered up his coat and hurriedly walked out the door, contemplating how, exactly, he was going to make Orli and Lij pay for this night. And, more importantly, how he would ever manage the impossible task of getting Billy Boyd out of his heart.
to be continued...
Author: Jen
Pairings: DM/BB(eventually- if Billy will only shape up
Rating: NC17
Summary: There are no words in the English language that can possibly begin to describe this weirdness. ; ) But, I'll do my best: Orli and Lij try to mend Dom's broken heart with a change of scenery, while Billy stays in Scotland and keeps busy making the worst decision of his life.
This part: Orli sends Dom on an all-expenses paid trip to the worst little whorehouse in Texas.
Warnings: Brief het, only at the very beginning, descriptive m/m sex, what I suppose could be considered semi-non-con sex at the beginning, although it's not intended in that fashion at all. I'm just not completely sure of the definition, and would certainly rather put up the warning than risk offending anyone. : )
Disclaimer: This is a work of fiction. The author does not know, and is in no way affiliated with the persons mentioned in this work. No disrespect is intended to the persons mentioned in this work. No money is in any way being made from this piece of pure fiction.
Feedback: Would absolutely adore it.
A/N: This has to without doubt be the strangest thing I have ever written, and it only promises to get stranger as it goes along. It's times like this that I sincerely wonder what went wrong when my brain was being created. ; ) -Jen
Dom sat in the disheveled motel bed, naked as the day he was born, mortified beyond comprehension, and wondered for about the thousandth time that night what in the bloody *fuck* he'd been thinking. Alcohol hadn't even played a role in the evening's festivities; he was sober as a judge. The girl ('Whore, Monaghan! Whore!' the little voice in his head cried smugly) was propped on her elbow next to him giving him an odd look. No fucking wonder. How many blokes had she seen go limp and burst into tears when she attempted to shag them?
She pulled herself up alongside him and clumsily reached out to pat his arm, missing on the first try and swatting only air. Whatever alcohol he had foregone, she had obviously made up for in spades. She smelled like a brewery. She finally managed to land a consoling hand on his back.
"S'okay, honey-pie. Whassa matter? This your first time, sweetie? Ya'll scared?"
The sudden cloudburst ended as abruptly as it had begun, and now Dom simply wished for a quick and painless death to put an end to his humiliation. Or at the very least, some way to disappear into thin air. Where the fuck was Frodo's Ring when you really needed it?
Dom decided if he ever managed to get out of the horrible situation he was now in, his first point of business would be the slow and tortuous murder of Orlando Bloom. He tried to pinpoint the exact moment in time in which he had become mental enough to allow the elf control over his decision-making processes. Sure, his friends were worried sick because he hadn't been able to eat or sleep for over thirty six hours, and it was clear he was so depressed he was knocking on the door to suicidal. But only in Orlando's mind could the obvious solution to these problems be a nice romp in a seedy Texas motel room with a drunk whore.
'Ta very much, Orli! You enormous fucker.'
Of course, a good share of the blame also belonged to Orli's lover and partner in crime- Elijah. After all, it was his idea to go on such a stunningly moronic roadtrip in the first place. Some distant relative whom he’d never even met before had invited him down for some fun in the sun. He hadn't really taken the offer seriously until what he referred to in hushed tones as 'The Incident' had occurred. That's when he decided all that poor, heartbroken Dom really needed was a nice relaxing vacation. Therefore tomorrow, he, Lij, and Orli were going to meet up with Aunt Betty Lou and Uncle Joe Bob at the Ponderosa for a cow milking demonstration or hog calling competition or some such shite. Brilliant.
Try as he might, Dom could not find it within himself to blame the one person who was clearly at fault for everything. Billy. The man he had loved ever since he first laid eyes on him back in New Zealand. The man who had become his breath, his heart, his reason for living. The very same man who had phoned yesterday morning, bubbling over with excitement and joy, to invite Dom to his wedding. And not as the groom.
Garbled words drew him away from his morose thoughts, and he realized the girl was speaking to him. Or at least attempting to. She looked slightly miffed, and Dom could hardly blame her. He wanted nothing more in the world than to be out of that room, but unfortunately his mum had raised him to be polite. He couldn't just get up and leave without some kind of explanation.
"Sorry, didn't catch that, love. What did you say?"
"I assed if I did sumthin' wrong, or wha?", she slurred at him.
Dom did his best to translate. “It’s nothing you’ve done, love, believe me.”
"Then wha isit? Do hobbits get off different than normal guys ? Do I need ta play wi' your feet, or sumthin'?”
‘Oh, Christ in pyjamas, she’s recognized me!’, he thought with horror, then on the tail of that, a flash of wild hope. ‘Maybe she’ll think I’m Bills! Everyone *else* gets us bollixed up!’ Despite his depression and the mortifying situation he had fumbled his way into, he couldn't help an inward chuckle imagining the look on Billy’s face when he opened up one of those ridiculous tabloids at the grocery checkout line (the very same tabloids he indignantly denied reading, always claiming he was simply straightening the magazine rack if he was caught in the act, a mad blush creeping up his cheeks the entire while) and saw the blazing headline- "Prostitute Tells All! Hobbit Pippin Impotent!"
Unfortunately, any hope of mistaken identity was dashed with the whore's next slurred sentence. “Don’ matter none, Mister Merry-Hobbit, I could getta marble fuckin’ statue to cum.”
He cleared his throat nervously. "Really, love, no need, I think I'll just be..." His words were cut off abruptly as she bent down and took his left nipple between her teeth.
Dom had fantasized countless times about Billy doing the same to him, but not once had things ever gone quite like this. Dream-Billy was always gentle; lips applying sweet suction, tongue lovingly lapping, sending Dom to previously unknown heights of ecstasy. Unfortunately, the bird in bed with him now appeared to be channeling the Marquis de Sade. Wickedly sharp teeth attacked the tender flesh on his left, while rough, pinching fingers accosted the right. Just as Dom was about to cry uncle, she appeared to lose interest in her task. His breath whooshed out in relief, but was just as quickly sucked back in with a startled gasp as her head began to lower even further. She could only have one destination in mind.
Dom opened his mouth to ask her what she was doing, but was effectively silenced as he was shoved backwards onto the bed. He bleakly wondered if any of her other customers had survived to tell the tale. She couldn't possibly have much return business.
It seemed that she had made it her life's goal to bring the poor weepy hobbit to orgasm, no matter if they both died in the process. She now had Dom's dick in one hand, tugging on it impatiently, and was doing something extremely odd to his balls with the wickedly long fingernails of her other hand. Dom was more than a bit alarmed at this new development and found himself willing Junior to get hard, if only to save them both from some kind of unfortunate accident. But alas, Junior was having none of it; he was shrinking back even farther in fear for his life.
Dom was on the verge of shoving the girl off, etiquette be damned, when she unexpectedly stopped her ministrations, mumbled something along the lines of "Piddlyfuck", and passed out face first onto the bed.
Dom saw his chance and took it. He dressed as quietly as he could, gathered up his coat and hurriedly walked out the door, contemplating how, exactly, he was going to make Orli and Lij pay for this night. And, more importantly, how he would ever manage the impossible task of getting Billy Boyd out of his heart.
to be continued...
no subject
Too many good lines to quote!! PLEASE continue!!
no subject
Brilliant!