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fellowshippers2003-07-19 06:11 am
airgiodslv.livejournal.com) wrote in fellowshippers2003-07-19 06:11 am
Scorpio Moon
Title: Scorpio Moon
Fandom: LOTR RPS
Pairings: DM/BB, EW/OB
Rating: PG-13
Disclaimer: This is a complete work of fiction, no disrespect intended.
Notes: Clubfic, hot/cold. Two birds, one stone. For the contrelamontre show-not-tell challenge. 70 minutes, and I used every single one of them.
It’s been a good night. Dom has had numerous alcoholic drinks, gotten the numbers of four lovely young ladies whom he has absolutely no intention of calling, and they’ve played his new favorite song twice. This club may have just become Dom’s favorite, in fact. He’s slightly itchy now from the press of bodies and the smell of sweat, but it’s not enough to ruin his mood. So when Elijah asks him to dance, Dom is just tipsy enough to find this a rather attractive idea.
Billy tries to steal his drink, but a split second later Orlando is there, long slender fingers wrapping around the glass and sliding it out of Billy’s fingers, slick squeak of skin and condensation. Billy looks startled at first, because Orlando is not quite his usual upbeat self; more intense somehow, and dark, practically throbbing with the music.
Dom swallows.
He could easily be distracted by Orlando forcefully herding Billy onto the dance floor, by dark and pale coming together in a way that Dom finds oddly attractive, like the sun and the moon or some cosmic crap like that. But Elijah’s hands have found his, are tugging him onto the dance floor, and he doesn’t really want to resist. Elijah says something, voice raised over the deafening noise of the club mix, but Dom still can’t hear him. He frowns and Elijah shakes his head, dismissing it.
He never knew Elijah could dance. Well, that’s not true exactly, but Elijah has always been a bouncy dancer, more of a bopper than an actual sway-to-the-music groover. Certainly not sensual, not erotic, not hips-pressed-together swiveling seductive.
Dom doesn’t know what’s gotten into Elijah tonight. But he decides not to care.
Elijah takes the lead, more aggressive than Dom expected, but that’s okay because it means that Dom doesn’t have to do any of the work. He lets Elijah guide him until they are nose-to-nose, fingers wrapped loosely around each other’s hipbones, and that’s when he notices that he doesn’t really have Elijah’s attention. Elijah is looking past him, over his shoulder, and Dom wants very badly to know what’s going on back there that’s so bloody interesting.
He gets his chance a moment later, when Elijah’s fingers press and grasp; turn Dom around so that his back is against Elijah’s damp chest and his arms are crossed, hands over Elijah’s still on his hips, fingers tangling intertwined, Elijah’s thumbs hooked casually in Dom’s belt loops. Dom forgets for a moment that he’s supposed to be looking for something, for whatever Elijah was so caught up in, because the hands are suddenly tugging, guiding him closer, and he can feel Elijah’s groin against the crease of his backside.
When he opens his eyes and frowns, ready to ask Elijah exactly what the hell he thinks he’s doing, he sees Orlando and Billy. And immediately loses his thought because the blood in his head is suddenly diverted.
Elijah might be bold, but Orlando is in one of those ‘take-no-prisoners no-questions-asked’ kind of moods that Dom has admired from a distance. Billy doesn’t have much distance at the moment. Dom can’t tell from here whether or not Billy really minds, but he guesses not.
Orlando’s body is melting into Billy’s, one hand wandering farther south than it perhaps should be, one leg strategically placed between Billy’s, lips just touching the skin of Billy’s neck. And Billy is allowing it. Dom isn’t sure at all how he feels about that, but gets distracted again when Elijah’s hands slide up his torso, curving around his waist and rubbing over the fabric of his shirt. Dom almost closes his eyes and relaxes, but at that moment Orlando looks up directly at them.
Not them. Elijah. Dom can feel the singe of Orlando’s gaze as it passes over him, locks somewhere to his left. Right where, as if on cue, there are suddenly lips on his neck, and a tongue dragging a path through the sheen of sweat on his neck. Dom thinks that he should definitely be protesting at this point, because it’s Elijah, Elijah, but he decides to let it go on for a little while longer because it means that he can watch Orlando and Billy.
Orlando’s hand dips lower, definitely too far now, because Billy jerks a little and raises up onto his toes, and his head rolls back to rest on Orlando’s chest. They are almost mirrors of each other – Orlando and Billy, Dom and Elijah – and Dom experiences a sudden moment of panic at what that could possibly mean and not knowing where Elijah’s hands have gone.
And then - oh - he thought that he had known what was coming, but this isn’t it. Elijah’s hands slide up over his thighs, part a little as they reach the juncture of his legs, and his thumbs drag against the fabric, pulling Dom’s jeans tighter against his skin.
Dom’s jeans definitely do not need to be any tighter.
He is definitely ready to protest now, because he feels like a pawn in a chess game, or maybe the decoy in capture-the-flag. Elijah is obviously using him in some sort of twisted one-up contest with Orlando, and Dom has no idea what they are trying to prove.
He breaks away a second later, because Elijah’s lips are on his shoulder again and it’s just too weird. Creepy. Elijah yanks him back hard, and Dom feels a little scared at the intensity in Elijah’s eyes when he twists around…but then it diffuses, dissolves, and Elijah lets him go with a laugh, drifting into the sea of anonymous dancers, searching for a new partner. A glance to the side shows him that Orlando and Billy are gone as well, although he thinks that he can see the glint of Orlando’s curls moving away through the crowd.
Dom blinks, takes a deep breath; wills away the arousal still coiling in his lower body. Decides that a trip to the bathroom is perhaps in order, to allow him to regain some composure before facing Billy or the others.
He gets lost trying to find the bathroom, and is about to give up and go back to their table when he turns a corner and sees them, in the hallway, dark and bright flickers under the fluorescent light. Orlando has Elijah against the wall, their tongues in each other’s mouths, bodies pressed together so tightly that Dom can’t believe they still exist independently. It’s unbelievably erotic and charged, and by no means gentle; Elijah’s fingers are curved sharply, tips pressing bruises into Orlando’s skin, and his mouth is being plundered so thoroughly that he’s whimpering, head occasionally rising from the wall for a brief moment before it is forced back with a thump by Orlando.
A hand touches his arm and he jumps; aroused and ashamed and surprised at being caught. Billy presses his finger to his lips, smiling, and his hand on Dom’s arm pulls him away, back into the lights and music and energy of the club.
“They’ve been leading up to that for weeks now,” Billy says as he takes a drag from Dom’s joint; passes it back without looking away from the water. They are perched on a hillside overlooking the ocean, not too far from the club, and it seems surreal that both places can exist in the same universe, let alone so close together.
Dom doesn’t say anything, because he hadn’t really known. He may have suspected, may have secretly guessed that the crackling between Elijah and Orlando was sexual tension, but he hadn’t really known. And he certainly hadn’t expected…that.
“Never thought they’d get around to it, actually,” Billy continues, blowing smoke, and Dom inhales instead of answering. “Good for them.”
“Yeah, they…” And then he stops, because he really doesn’t want to talk about this, doesn’t want to remember Elijah’s hands creeping up Orlando’s back, skin emerging inch by inch from beneath crinkling fabric.
“They both have Scorpio moons,” Billy says, tilting his head as if listening to the ocean. “That’s why.”
“Oh?” Dom doesn’t have any idea what Billy is talking about, but thinks of earlier, when he saw Orlando and Billy together and…he doesn’t really want to think about that either. “Why what?” he asks, just to have something else to concentrate on.
“Why they’re like that. Passionate, frenzied. Sexy as hell,” Billy says with a chuckle, tilts his head back to blow smoke into the clear sky. The air is so easy to breathe here, so open. There is moonlight on the ocean, shining over the crests of the waves as they ripple in towards the shore.
“What’s your moon, then?” Dom asks, and it sounds like such a stupid thing to say that he wishes he could retract it.
Billy doesn’t laugh though, simply takes another drag and glances at him sidelong before he blows it out. “Scorpio.”
“Oh.” That’s really the most intelligent thing he can come up with, and once again he is trying not to think about Billy’s skin and Orlando’s hands and the way the moonlight changes the colour, bleaches it.
“It’s different, though.” Billy shrugs. “You know.”
“Right.” He still doesn’t have a clue, but it makes sense, in a diluted sort of way. Billy is still looking out over the ocean, and Dom hasn’t even glanced. Not once.
“So you want to?” Billy says suddenly, and Dom blinks, caught up in the movement of Billy’s Adam’s apple as it bobs in his throat with the words.
“What?” he asks automatically, and then gets distracted again, this time by the moonlight in Billy’s eyes.
“Yeah,” he says, because Billy’s right, because it is different, somehow. It makes sense; cosmic flow and all that. Suns and moons. It’s different, and that makes it all right. “Okay.”
Fandom: LOTR RPS
Pairings: DM/BB, EW/OB
Rating: PG-13
Disclaimer: This is a complete work of fiction, no disrespect intended.
Notes: Clubfic, hot/cold. Two birds, one stone. For the contrelamontre show-not-tell challenge. 70 minutes, and I used every single one of them.
It’s been a good night. Dom has had numerous alcoholic drinks, gotten the numbers of four lovely young ladies whom he has absolutely no intention of calling, and they’ve played his new favorite song twice. This club may have just become Dom’s favorite, in fact. He’s slightly itchy now from the press of bodies and the smell of sweat, but it’s not enough to ruin his mood. So when Elijah asks him to dance, Dom is just tipsy enough to find this a rather attractive idea.
Billy tries to steal his drink, but a split second later Orlando is there, long slender fingers wrapping around the glass and sliding it out of Billy’s fingers, slick squeak of skin and condensation. Billy looks startled at first, because Orlando is not quite his usual upbeat self; more intense somehow, and dark, practically throbbing with the music.
Dom swallows.
He could easily be distracted by Orlando forcefully herding Billy onto the dance floor, by dark and pale coming together in a way that Dom finds oddly attractive, like the sun and the moon or some cosmic crap like that. But Elijah’s hands have found his, are tugging him onto the dance floor, and he doesn’t really want to resist. Elijah says something, voice raised over the deafening noise of the club mix, but Dom still can’t hear him. He frowns and Elijah shakes his head, dismissing it.
He never knew Elijah could dance. Well, that’s not true exactly, but Elijah has always been a bouncy dancer, more of a bopper than an actual sway-to-the-music groover. Certainly not sensual, not erotic, not hips-pressed-together swiveling seductive.
Dom doesn’t know what’s gotten into Elijah tonight. But he decides not to care.
Elijah takes the lead, more aggressive than Dom expected, but that’s okay because it means that Dom doesn’t have to do any of the work. He lets Elijah guide him until they are nose-to-nose, fingers wrapped loosely around each other’s hipbones, and that’s when he notices that he doesn’t really have Elijah’s attention. Elijah is looking past him, over his shoulder, and Dom wants very badly to know what’s going on back there that’s so bloody interesting.
He gets his chance a moment later, when Elijah’s fingers press and grasp; turn Dom around so that his back is against Elijah’s damp chest and his arms are crossed, hands over Elijah’s still on his hips, fingers tangling intertwined, Elijah’s thumbs hooked casually in Dom’s belt loops. Dom forgets for a moment that he’s supposed to be looking for something, for whatever Elijah was so caught up in, because the hands are suddenly tugging, guiding him closer, and he can feel Elijah’s groin against the crease of his backside.
When he opens his eyes and frowns, ready to ask Elijah exactly what the hell he thinks he’s doing, he sees Orlando and Billy. And immediately loses his thought because the blood in his head is suddenly diverted.
Elijah might be bold, but Orlando is in one of those ‘take-no-prisoners no-questions-asked’ kind of moods that Dom has admired from a distance. Billy doesn’t have much distance at the moment. Dom can’t tell from here whether or not Billy really minds, but he guesses not.
Orlando’s body is melting into Billy’s, one hand wandering farther south than it perhaps should be, one leg strategically placed between Billy’s, lips just touching the skin of Billy’s neck. And Billy is allowing it. Dom isn’t sure at all how he feels about that, but gets distracted again when Elijah’s hands slide up his torso, curving around his waist and rubbing over the fabric of his shirt. Dom almost closes his eyes and relaxes, but at that moment Orlando looks up directly at them.
Not them. Elijah. Dom can feel the singe of Orlando’s gaze as it passes over him, locks somewhere to his left. Right where, as if on cue, there are suddenly lips on his neck, and a tongue dragging a path through the sheen of sweat on his neck. Dom thinks that he should definitely be protesting at this point, because it’s Elijah, Elijah, but he decides to let it go on for a little while longer because it means that he can watch Orlando and Billy.
Orlando’s hand dips lower, definitely too far now, because Billy jerks a little and raises up onto his toes, and his head rolls back to rest on Orlando’s chest. They are almost mirrors of each other – Orlando and Billy, Dom and Elijah – and Dom experiences a sudden moment of panic at what that could possibly mean and not knowing where Elijah’s hands have gone.
And then - oh - he thought that he had known what was coming, but this isn’t it. Elijah’s hands slide up over his thighs, part a little as they reach the juncture of his legs, and his thumbs drag against the fabric, pulling Dom’s jeans tighter against his skin.
Dom’s jeans definitely do not need to be any tighter.
He is definitely ready to protest now, because he feels like a pawn in a chess game, or maybe the decoy in capture-the-flag. Elijah is obviously using him in some sort of twisted one-up contest with Orlando, and Dom has no idea what they are trying to prove.
He breaks away a second later, because Elijah’s lips are on his shoulder again and it’s just too weird. Creepy. Elijah yanks him back hard, and Dom feels a little scared at the intensity in Elijah’s eyes when he twists around…but then it diffuses, dissolves, and Elijah lets him go with a laugh, drifting into the sea of anonymous dancers, searching for a new partner. A glance to the side shows him that Orlando and Billy are gone as well, although he thinks that he can see the glint of Orlando’s curls moving away through the crowd.
Dom blinks, takes a deep breath; wills away the arousal still coiling in his lower body. Decides that a trip to the bathroom is perhaps in order, to allow him to regain some composure before facing Billy or the others.
He gets lost trying to find the bathroom, and is about to give up and go back to their table when he turns a corner and sees them, in the hallway, dark and bright flickers under the fluorescent light. Orlando has Elijah against the wall, their tongues in each other’s mouths, bodies pressed together so tightly that Dom can’t believe they still exist independently. It’s unbelievably erotic and charged, and by no means gentle; Elijah’s fingers are curved sharply, tips pressing bruises into Orlando’s skin, and his mouth is being plundered so thoroughly that he’s whimpering, head occasionally rising from the wall for a brief moment before it is forced back with a thump by Orlando.
A hand touches his arm and he jumps; aroused and ashamed and surprised at being caught. Billy presses his finger to his lips, smiling, and his hand on Dom’s arm pulls him away, back into the lights and music and energy of the club.
“They’ve been leading up to that for weeks now,” Billy says as he takes a drag from Dom’s joint; passes it back without looking away from the water. They are perched on a hillside overlooking the ocean, not too far from the club, and it seems surreal that both places can exist in the same universe, let alone so close together.
Dom doesn’t say anything, because he hadn’t really known. He may have suspected, may have secretly guessed that the crackling between Elijah and Orlando was sexual tension, but he hadn’t really known. And he certainly hadn’t expected…that.
“Never thought they’d get around to it, actually,” Billy continues, blowing smoke, and Dom inhales instead of answering. “Good for them.”
“Yeah, they…” And then he stops, because he really doesn’t want to talk about this, doesn’t want to remember Elijah’s hands creeping up Orlando’s back, skin emerging inch by inch from beneath crinkling fabric.
“They both have Scorpio moons,” Billy says, tilting his head as if listening to the ocean. “That’s why.”
“Oh?” Dom doesn’t have any idea what Billy is talking about, but thinks of earlier, when he saw Orlando and Billy together and…he doesn’t really want to think about that either. “Why what?” he asks, just to have something else to concentrate on.
“Why they’re like that. Passionate, frenzied. Sexy as hell,” Billy says with a chuckle, tilts his head back to blow smoke into the clear sky. The air is so easy to breathe here, so open. There is moonlight on the ocean, shining over the crests of the waves as they ripple in towards the shore.
“What’s your moon, then?” Dom asks, and it sounds like such a stupid thing to say that he wishes he could retract it.
Billy doesn’t laugh though, simply takes another drag and glances at him sidelong before he blows it out. “Scorpio.”
“Oh.” That’s really the most intelligent thing he can come up with, and once again he is trying not to think about Billy’s skin and Orlando’s hands and the way the moonlight changes the colour, bleaches it.
“It’s different, though.” Billy shrugs. “You know.”
“Right.” He still doesn’t have a clue, but it makes sense, in a diluted sort of way. Billy is still looking out over the ocean, and Dom hasn’t even glanced. Not once.
“So you want to?” Billy says suddenly, and Dom blinks, caught up in the movement of Billy’s Adam’s apple as it bobs in his throat with the words.
“What?” he asks automatically, and then gets distracted again, this time by the moonlight in Billy’s eyes.
“Yeah,” he says, because Billy’s right, because it is different, somehow. It makes sense; cosmic flow and all that. Suns and moons. It’s different, and that makes it all right. “Okay.”
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is this your submission for
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i'll put it up on the site sometime today. thanks for participating!
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Raven
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awesome.
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