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fellowshippers2006-03-05 07:09 pm
doodle-lover.livejournal.com) wrote in fellowshippers2006-03-05 07:09 pm
Fic: Home Sweet Home, Down In New Orleans, Branded as an Angel: Chapter 1, and Brokenhearted
I realize that I haven't been on here in forever and a day, so as a peace offering, I give you two complete Orlijahs, Chapter 1 of another one, and a songfic in which you can fill in your own subjects They are extremely old and have not been beta'd, so if you see something, let me know. And I am still writing The Arts, for those of you who care. T'is nearly done, honest. Also have started a little Orlijah set in the 1920's. That one's titleless and nearly done as well. Anyway...hope you enjoy!
Title: Home Sweet Home
Author:![[livejournal.com profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/external/lj-userinfo.gif)
doodle_lover
Fandom: LotR RPS
Rating: uh, I'd say R
Warnings: M/M, slash
Pairing: Orlijah
Summary: A cheesy look into Elijah's homesickness. Complete.
Feedback: With a cherry on top??
Orlando dashed across the space between he and the hobbit's trailer. His ears and eyes stung, red from being de-elfed. The rain had started earlier, just a light drizzle that they used for some shots, then Pete decided that it was just too damp, dreary, exhausting of a day to try to keep going. Everyone was tired, even the unfathomable Peter Jackson. So, he called the day, and everyone had trudged, squealing and mumbling in the chilled New Zealand weather, back to where they would be returned to normal, or as normal as they deemed necessary. The rain was pouring steady now, slipsliding down the collar of Orlando's heavy jacket as he banged on the door, waiting for one of the hobbits to hear him through the steady ping of rain on metal, and music on the other side of the door. An old Goo Goo Dolls album. He listened to a few seconds of a song he thought he recognized before he realized he was standing there, freezing and soaking, for no reason. He twisted the rain-wet, weather-chilled doorknob and pushed into the trailer.
An un-hobbited Elijah looked up from his make-up chair. "Hey."
"Hey." Orlando answered, shaking water droplets from his hair. He huffed a second, and stripped off the wet jacket, hanging it on the counter by a sink. Rubbing his goosebumped arms, "Where is everyone else?"
"Hm. They all went over to Bill's. Something about a great Scrabble-a-thon." He unfolded his lithe form and stretched up to his CD player, set up high on a shelf for easy reach while standing up for hours in Feet. Propping his short body up on one arm on the counter, he just managed to slide the new CD into the changer, grunting softly when he landed back on the heels of his Converses. His short, bitten fingers jabbed the switch button, and then the play. Orlando had to chuckle.
"What?" Elijah asked, bright blue eyes looking over his shoulder as he set just one of his multiple, gigantic CD cases back onto the stack.
"Only you, Lij."
The shorter man turned completely, sliding a hand into his pocket. "What is that supposed to mean?"
"Only you would go from a 1999 album by a group barely hanging on to one of the best jazz singers to ever grace a mike."
Elijah smiled from behind a hand lighting a cigarette. "You like Billie Holiday?" He took a deep drag and blew his smoke in the opposite direction of Orlando.
"Yeah, how could you not?"
"Good question."
"Here is another one. Why didn't you head over to Bill's with the rest?"
Elijah hefted himself up to the counter, scootching back until he was comfortable, crossing his ankles, sighing, before answering, "I was waiting for you."
Orlando laughed lightly, and wandered around the make-up chairs, perching lightly on the edge of the one next to Elijah's knees. "Silly hobbit, you could have called my mobile. I would have met you lot over there. I enjoy watching Billy and Dom trying to make words when they're pissed. It's right funny."
Elijah took another drag, blowing the smoke toward the ceiling, idly blowing lazy smoke rings. "That's not what I meant." He said, in between hazy gray circles.
Orlando's smile dripped off of his face, mingling with some of the leftover water droplets on his chin, neck, chest. "Are you alright, hobbit?"
Elijah nodded, cherry bobbing up and down. "Fine." His smoke words lied.
Orlando was standing before he even knew he was thinking about it. That was how things often happened with Elijah. He stood in front of Elijah's tight knees, resting his hands on either side of them. "Hobbit?"
Elijah slid eyes down to met Orlando's. "Elf?"
"What is wrong?"
"Home."
"You're homesick?"
Elijah nodded, looking into Orlando's eyes. "I miss it. I miss home."
"Ah, hobbit, we all feel that way. We've been here for so long. We are all getting homesick."
"Nah, Orli. Home is here, but I still miss it."
Orlando stared into naked blue. "What do you mean?" Elijah only got enigmatic when he wanted to hide his emotions. The only problem with that were his eyes. The bright blue orbs he so nonchalantly called eyes revealed his every motion, at least, when not on camera. Right now, they were swimming with unshed fear, a quiet, hushed pain.
"Hobbit?"
Elijah blinked hard, a single tear sneaking out of the corner of one eye. He took another drag of his cigarette. This close, Orlando could smell the cloves and cinnamon. The spices of Elijah. Whispers came out, followed by a rush of smokeair that went right
into Orlando's face, chilling his damp skin more with its heat, Elijah obviously not caring about manners at this point. "Orlando. Home. You're my home." Blue eyes were wide, honest, vulnerable for the second before they slid shut.
Orlando was quiet, shocked, only a little surprised for the second before he kissed the soft pink of bitten lips. The heat from Elijah's body radiated into his, chilling him and warming him instantly. Gently, they kissed, heat and wet. Knees jabbed Orli's lower stomach. Neither noticed, nor cared, but ankles were unlocked, tight knees slid apart to fit Orlando in. Hips met thighs and mouths groaned. Elijah ran his square palms into a wet mohawk, causing the leftover rain to fall. Orlando grabbed the convenient handlebars of hips, and drug forward. Mouths slid and gasped when zippers and buttons met, the only, thin barriers between hot, solid flesh. Orlando's eyes slammed shut, and his mouth formed a sharp line before opening, sliding, placing slick kisses on the soft, sex smelling skin under his tongue. Elijah's gasp broke in his ear as he rocked forward, hips digging into hips, denim clad cocks colliding and glancing and `oh-right-there'. Orlando's tongue
labeled maps to unknown countries on Elijah's slim, tendonned throat, while Elijah's hands trickled down the bumpy alleyway of Orlando's slick, muscled back, lingering over his scars. Scrambling to get closer, Elijah braced his feet on the cabinet under him, and scrapped forward, just as Orlando's perfect white teeth bit into the joint of his neck and shoulder, causing him to spasm, and clutch at Orli's back, leaving white lines with red welts in his wake. The pain jostled Orlando, his large hands slipping between Lij and the mirror behind him, grasping the soft, hard flesh and pulling him forward. "Hobbit." He growled into Elijah's ear before taking the cartilage into his mouth, and biting gently. The deep intake of breath next to his neck was a good sign, and as he worked his hands under the waistband of too tight jeans, he bit harder.
Elijah bucked, and whispered the perfect word "soon" into Orlando's ear, before licking away every trace of it.
Digging fingers into giving skin and flesh, he ground their bodies together, the friction increased as the desire to see Elijah broken grew. The hitching breath in his ear told him that it wouldn't be long, and Elijah's jagged "God, Orli…gonna come soon…" just helped it speed along faster. Orlando dipped his head forward, and licked the small hallow on Elijah's neck. The spiky head slammed into the mirror, shaking the trailer wall with force enough to make Orli cringe. A tiny scrape of teeth to sweet smelling skin, and Elijah was there, screaming out Orlando's name into the smoke filled air of the poorly ventilated trailer. Bitten fingernails were dragging out a taboo on olive skin as Elijah shuddered, sticky heat pouring out of him. Orlando caught the sight of sated blue, the smell of Elijah's release, and he growled deep before adding his own essence to the stench of sex in the small space. Elijah laughed from underneath him as Orlando stopped shaking, and rested his head on Elijah's chest.
"That…was…amazing."
Orlando mumbled something in agreement into the worn cotton of Elijah's shirt. Catching his breath, he raised his head, gazing deep into the warm, peace of blue. "Welcome home, sweetheart."
Elijah's small laugh burst from him before he wrapped his arms around Orlando's neck, pulling him closer. "Yes, love, home."
Title: Down In New Orleans
Author:doodle_lover
Fandom: LotR RPS
Rating: uh, I'd say R
Warnings: M/M, drug and alcohol use.
Pairing: Orlijah
Summary: The boys spend a Mardi Gras in New Orleans. Complete.
Feedback: With a cherry on top??
"Where the fuck am I?" Orlando asked himself, barely hoping for an answer. Jesus Christ, he was drunk. That and the huge blunt they had smoked in Billy's car while driving into the city didn't help matters much. Fuck, it didn't help at all. His vision swam, alcohol battling cannabis for dominance. Mardi Gras was in full swing around him. This, the last day of carnival, was for living to the fullest, and that was the mode of operation tonight. Orlando blinked heavily and squinted in front of him, searching for his landmarks, a shaggy blonde, a less shaggy blonde, and a spiky brunette. The men he was traveling with. The men that dragged him down here, not really kicking, maybe a bit of screaming. His friends, Dom, Billy, and Elijah. He blinked heavy again and saw out of the corner of his eye the greenest green he has ever seen. Lime green eyes on an androgynous face. Another blink, and gone. He slowly turned back towards the sidewalk and crossed the side street in front of him. Bourbon and Toulouse, the signs said. "Where the hell are they?" he thought. An arm reached out of an alley as he passed. The world spun out of alignment and settled on the crystalline watercolor of huge blue eyes outlined in velvet and sequins. Orlando grinned like a fool and muttered, "Pretty." He stared into the oceans in front of him. He could see waves crashing on pure, shining beaches, and hear gulls crying out in the sweet sunshine. The contained ocean-eyes got closer, leaning up. He smelled beer. Beer and pot and something more familiar than both. A voice. Honeyed gravel trickled into his ears.
"Orlando?"
Orlando smiled. "Hey, you know my name!"
"Orlando." The voice whispered closer to his lips, ghosts of breath pushing against the chapped skin on his bottom lip, teasing the smaller hairs on his face. He licked his lips, dry tongue questing for moisture. A pair of lips trapped his tongue, dragging it further out, into a dark, wet, slick cave. `Hmm…'Orlando's mind reeled with taste and texture. He ran his tongue over the stranger's teeth, relishing in the sharp contrast of teeth and tongue and cheeks and lips. Familiar. Familiar in smell and taste. The sequins on the carnival mask scraped at Orlando's eyelids, scratching, tiny flares of red pain shooting up in Orlando's swampy mind. Familiar. Famil…elijah. Elijah. Orlando broke the kiss, pulling back, head and eyes jerking and gasping at the sudden movement. He narrowed his eyes, looking into the oceans, heavily lidded, burning and ebbing with lust and need. "Elijah?" he asked.
The eyes behind the dark velvet widened and the arms draped around his waist suddenly forced him away, spinning him toward the mouth of the alley, back towards the melee of lights and sounds that was Bourbon at Mardi Gras. Orlando's eyes closed in retreat to the
onslaught of overwhelming sights and noises. Something slipped past him, brushing him against the hard brick wall to his left. He followed the grungy wall with his hands until they grasped humid air. He opened his eyes, glaring out at the world. He was onslaughted again by arms around waists and voices in ears.
"Oi! Lando! Dom! It's Orli! There ya are, mate!" Billy screamed, way too loud, way too close.
Dom chuckled, "Thought we'd lost ya!" Orlando swayed, dizzy. The blondes steadied him and walked again.
"Hey, there is Lij up there in front of us. Hey, Lij! Hey!" Dom screamed, way too loud, way too close. "Hey, Lij, wait up! Whatcha got there? Hey, cool mask!"
Orlando saw a flurry of arms, then again walking. His head started to hurt, and he closed his eyes, walking blindly, trusting his friends to lead him somewhere with beer and safety. This carnival business was driving him crazy.
Title: Branded as an Angel: Chapter 1
Author:doodle_lover
Fandom: LotR RPS
Rating: uh, I'd say R
Warnings: M/M, eventual slash
Pairing: Orlijah
Summary: Elijah gets a tattoo, and it starts to drive Orlando crazy.
Feedback: With a cherry on top??
Bubbles covered the silky skin of his stomach, and tickled the hair on his chest. He could feel the warmth relaxing him and turning him into liquid. Orlando sighed and took a sip of his red wine. His back hurt. Had hurt for the past two weeks, but he was just now getting the opportunity to grab a nice, long bubble bath. He set down the wine glass, and sunk his hands down into the hot water, rubbing them along the length of his sides before slipping one of them back to rub his spine. A small moan oozed from his lips as he rubbed out a nasty knot. Feeling the tension start to disappear, he laced his fingers together on his stomach, idly slipping his pinky finger in and out of his belly button. He could feel himself drifting into a state of intense relaxation, the first time in a
long while when...
"ORLANDO!!"
He sat up with a jerk, water splashing over the sides of the tub to land on his new sides and the dark blue rug on the floor. The front door slammed shut and a patter of feet headed towards him. Multiple feet. Dom's shaggy head appeared from around the doorway. His bleary eyes shot him a look and smiled. "Wet Elf!"
A drunken Billy, Dom, and Elijah stumbled into the steamy room. Billy was in the middle, being supported by the two men flanking him.
"Hey there, Orli. How you doin'?" Dom slurred.
"Fine, I think. What are you guys doing here?"
"Elijah wanted to see you, so we came over."
"I know, I know...no visitors...Orli's health day...but, I wanted to see you." Elijah mumbled over the hard consonants.
"Why?"
"Cause...I finished the tattoo!"
"What?!"
Elijah had been working on a secret tattoo for the past several weeks, almost a month, and now, pranced over to the tub, chucking off his long sleeve sweater and the t-shirt from underneath it. He turned around and thrust his back into Orlando's face. Starting on the upper arch of his shoulder blades was a pair of huge wings, cascading down the ridges of his ribs. The longest of the feathers rippled over the dips of his hipbone, slipping into the waistband of his jeans. The width of the wings themselves breached the expanse of his back, nearly reaching the little valley of his spine. They were black and crystal blue, shaded exquisitely with light and dark grays. Still a bit pink and raw, his back glistened with a fresh coat of Neosporin.
"So!" Elijah shouted, turning around again to face Orlando. "What do you think?" he was saying as he slipped on the wet rug on the floor. He ended up on his knees, by the side of the deep tub.
"I think that it is gorgeous and you are drunk."
"Two outta two! Give the man a prize!"
"What did you let him do to himself?" Orlando asked the other men standing in the room.
"Nothing. He said he wanted to get shitfaced and finish the tat he has been hiding from us for weeks. So, we went to the parlor, and got that guy Trevor to finish it. Then, as per usual, went out to Classified, got drunk. A few drinks later, Elijah here says, 'We gotta go show Orli!'. And here we are." Dom offered.
Billy started to nod, but seemed to have thought better of it once it started. His face turned bright red, and he pulled on Dom's shirt, steadying himself.
"Damn, Bills, are you alright?" Dom asked.
Billy started to shake his head, and looked like he was going to hurl.
"Shit!...I better get him home. Elijah, come on, time to go home."
"NO! I don't wanna go home."
"Lij, come on, man."
"I said I don't wanna go!"
Dom leaned Billy against the doorjamb and started to walk toward Elijah, obviously ready to pull him home, kicking and screaming. Elijah instantly gripped the edge of the wet tub, shrieking at the top of his lungs like a little kid. Orlando's eardrums shrieked right along with him. "Dom! Hey, Dom. Leave him. He can stay."
Elijah's arms released their death grip on the slippery tub and he smiled. Dom went back to Billy, and wound his arms around his waist. "Are you sure? I can take him home."
"I'm sure. It would be easier on all involved. I'll keep him and bring him home later tomorrow. Let him sleep off the liquor and pain."
"Alright. Well, I guess we will see you two later then. Take it easy."
"Sure Dom. Go take care of him."
Dom and Billy staggered back into the living room and out to Dom's car.
Orlando sighed and reached for his towel. He levered his tall body out of the cooling water and wrapped the towel around his dripping waist. Elijah was still on his knees, looking up at Orlando. Orli stepped out of the tub, and mentioning for Lij to follow him, went into the living room. He sat the drunken hobbit on the couch and gave him the remote to the TV. "I am going to get dressed. Stay here. Watch TV. I'll be back soon."
Elijah nodded and turned on the TV, sitting up so that his still exposed back wouldn't touch the couch. Orlando tracked water into his bedroom, where he dried off and slipped on a pair of dark green silk boxers, and a pair of jeans. He used the towel to dry off his curly hair, then spent a few minutes thinking about Elijah. Elijah's back. Elijah's tattoo.
Elijah's wings. Now he really was an angel.
Elijah had turned on "Whose Line Is It, Anyway?" and grabbed a bottled water and chips from the kitchen. He was lying on the couch, face down, when Orlando returned. He grabbed his own bottle of water, and picked up Elijah's feet, sitting on the couch and placing the bare hobbit feet on his lap. Elijah mumbled, "I love it when they do this part!" through a mouthful of Sunchips, then reached around and tried to scratch his back.
"Nu-uh. No scratching. It will just make it hurt more. Do you need some more Neosporin?"
Elijah nodded, laughing at the antics of the actors on the show. Orlando slipped from under Lij's feet and walked into his bathroom, grabbing the tube of antibiotic ointment from the drawer in the counter. Orlando returned and straddled the feet at the end of the couch, settling himself down lightly on Elijah's abused calves.
He unscrewed the cap and tossed it on the table. Taking a small dab in his fingertips, he placed the tube on the back of the couch, and rubbed his hands together. Gently, slowly, knowing how much this would hurt, he touched the barest of touches to the tender, inked skin of Elijah's back. The muscles under his fingers twitched. Jerking his hands off of his back, he asked, "Are you alright, Lij?"
"Yeah, just cold. Wasn't expecting it."
"K." Orlando rubbed his hands together again, heating up the oily ointment as much as he could before placing his hands down on Elijah's sensitive flesh. Carefully, he started at the upper ridge of his shoulder blades, on hand on each wing, and smoothed the ointment down the swoop of the ink. He traced the darkness down, trickling his oily fingers along Elijah's ribs, dipping into the clear blue and inky black of each feather. He glided down under Elijah's waistband and covered the tips of the feathers there. Softly, he kneaded the muscles, kneading the ointment into the sore, tired skin. Orlando reached for the tube and added more on his hands, rubbing them together for heat before running them over the tattoo, putting on the last protective coat of oils.
"There. Better?"
In return, he got a snore.
Title: Brokenhearted
Author:doodle_lover
Fandom: LotR RPS
Rating: uh, I'd say G
Warnings: It's a songfic, lyrics from Micheal Buble's rendition 'How do you Mend a Broken Heart?'
Pairing: Pick your own!!!
Summary: Long distance relationships are hard. For some people, just too hard.
Feedback: With a cherry on top??
I can think of younger days when living for my life
Was everything a man could want to do
I could never see tomorrow, but I was never told about the sorrow.
We were unstoppable in New Zealand. Me and you. When it was happening, I couldn’t fathom a day without you. You were the reason I woke up each morning. You were my sunshine, what kept me from jumping without the cord. Neither one of us, hell, none of us could see the end of shooting, and we didn’t really look that hard. But we all agreed that it would have been nice to have some kind of warning against how much it would hurt to face that day.
And how can you mend a broken heart?
How can you stop the rain from falling down?
How can you stop the sun from shining?
What makes the world go round?
We tried to keep together. I’m sure you remember those days. The days of running all over the world, filling passports in a couple of months, learning to sleep on an airplane because every moment together, every moment away from publicists, photographers and rabid fangirls was sacred and were wasted on sleep. I learned to miss the quiet puffs of air coming from your slightly part lips, the lovely shadow that your eyelashes made on the delicate silk of your lower eyelids. I longed for sleep, a long sleep.
How can you mend this broken man?
How can a loser ever win?
Please help me mend my broken heart and let me live again.
It didn’t work. The days that we spent holed up in one hotel room on this side of the world, and that hotel room on the other just wasn’t enough. New Zealand spoiled us. We wanted each other. We needed each other. Not just for a day or so, a weekend if we got lucky, but forever. Always. Soon, we passed up opportunities to spend time with each other to sleep, and to remember.
I can still feel the breeze that rustles through the trees
And misty memories of days gone by.
We could never see tomorrow, no one said a word about the sorrow.
I lived my full of memories. Memories of the days where all I lived for was to love you, and to have you love me back. Days of sunshine, love, peace within myself. The days when my heart was safe in your hands, and you willingly put yours into mine.
And how can you mend a broken heart?
How can you stop the rain from falling down?
How can you stop the sun from shining?
What makes the world go round?
For so long now, I’ve thought about what I’m about to do now. It’s all figured out. I’m tired of the memories, tired of not sleeping. Tired of living this lie of a life without you in it. No one will miss me. Most of all you. And when they find me, they will shake their heads, and say, “This one died of a broken heart.”
How can you mend this broken man?
How can a loser ever win?
Please help me mend my broken heart and let me live again.
I hope that you all enjoyed! So sorry if any was a repost...I honestly can't remember if I've shared them here or not...As always, thanks for reading!
♥♥♥♥♥♥♥♥
Title: Home Sweet Home
Author:
doodle_loverFandom: LotR RPS
Rating: uh, I'd say R
Warnings: M/M, slash
Pairing: Orlijah
Summary: A cheesy look into Elijah's homesickness. Complete.
Feedback: With a cherry on top??
Orlando dashed across the space between he and the hobbit's trailer. His ears and eyes stung, red from being de-elfed. The rain had started earlier, just a light drizzle that they used for some shots, then Pete decided that it was just too damp, dreary, exhausting of a day to try to keep going. Everyone was tired, even the unfathomable Peter Jackson. So, he called the day, and everyone had trudged, squealing and mumbling in the chilled New Zealand weather, back to where they would be returned to normal, or as normal as they deemed necessary. The rain was pouring steady now, slipsliding down the collar of Orlando's heavy jacket as he banged on the door, waiting for one of the hobbits to hear him through the steady ping of rain on metal, and music on the other side of the door. An old Goo Goo Dolls album. He listened to a few seconds of a song he thought he recognized before he realized he was standing there, freezing and soaking, for no reason. He twisted the rain-wet, weather-chilled doorknob and pushed into the trailer.
An un-hobbited Elijah looked up from his make-up chair. "Hey."
"Hey." Orlando answered, shaking water droplets from his hair. He huffed a second, and stripped off the wet jacket, hanging it on the counter by a sink. Rubbing his goosebumped arms, "Where is everyone else?"
"Hm. They all went over to Bill's. Something about a great Scrabble-a-thon." He unfolded his lithe form and stretched up to his CD player, set up high on a shelf for easy reach while standing up for hours in Feet. Propping his short body up on one arm on the counter, he just managed to slide the new CD into the changer, grunting softly when he landed back on the heels of his Converses. His short, bitten fingers jabbed the switch button, and then the play. Orlando had to chuckle.
"What?" Elijah asked, bright blue eyes looking over his shoulder as he set just one of his multiple, gigantic CD cases back onto the stack.
"Only you, Lij."
The shorter man turned completely, sliding a hand into his pocket. "What is that supposed to mean?"
"Only you would go from a 1999 album by a group barely hanging on to one of the best jazz singers to ever grace a mike."
Elijah smiled from behind a hand lighting a cigarette. "You like Billie Holiday?" He took a deep drag and blew his smoke in the opposite direction of Orlando.
"Yeah, how could you not?"
"Good question."
"Here is another one. Why didn't you head over to Bill's with the rest?"
Elijah hefted himself up to the counter, scootching back until he was comfortable, crossing his ankles, sighing, before answering, "I was waiting for you."
Orlando laughed lightly, and wandered around the make-up chairs, perching lightly on the edge of the one next to Elijah's knees. "Silly hobbit, you could have called my mobile. I would have met you lot over there. I enjoy watching Billy and Dom trying to make words when they're pissed. It's right funny."
Elijah took another drag, blowing the smoke toward the ceiling, idly blowing lazy smoke rings. "That's not what I meant." He said, in between hazy gray circles.
Orlando's smile dripped off of his face, mingling with some of the leftover water droplets on his chin, neck, chest. "Are you alright, hobbit?"
Elijah nodded, cherry bobbing up and down. "Fine." His smoke words lied.
Orlando was standing before he even knew he was thinking about it. That was how things often happened with Elijah. He stood in front of Elijah's tight knees, resting his hands on either side of them. "Hobbit?"
Elijah slid eyes down to met Orlando's. "Elf?"
"What is wrong?"
"Home."
"You're homesick?"
Elijah nodded, looking into Orlando's eyes. "I miss it. I miss home."
"Ah, hobbit, we all feel that way. We've been here for so long. We are all getting homesick."
"Nah, Orli. Home is here, but I still miss it."
Orlando stared into naked blue. "What do you mean?" Elijah only got enigmatic when he wanted to hide his emotions. The only problem with that were his eyes. The bright blue orbs he so nonchalantly called eyes revealed his every motion, at least, when not on camera. Right now, they were swimming with unshed fear, a quiet, hushed pain.
"Hobbit?"
Elijah blinked hard, a single tear sneaking out of the corner of one eye. He took another drag of his cigarette. This close, Orlando could smell the cloves and cinnamon. The spices of Elijah. Whispers came out, followed by a rush of smokeair that went right
into Orlando's face, chilling his damp skin more with its heat, Elijah obviously not caring about manners at this point. "Orlando. Home. You're my home." Blue eyes were wide, honest, vulnerable for the second before they slid shut.
Orlando was quiet, shocked, only a little surprised for the second before he kissed the soft pink of bitten lips. The heat from Elijah's body radiated into his, chilling him and warming him instantly. Gently, they kissed, heat and wet. Knees jabbed Orli's lower stomach. Neither noticed, nor cared, but ankles were unlocked, tight knees slid apart to fit Orlando in. Hips met thighs and mouths groaned. Elijah ran his square palms into a wet mohawk, causing the leftover rain to fall. Orlando grabbed the convenient handlebars of hips, and drug forward. Mouths slid and gasped when zippers and buttons met, the only, thin barriers between hot, solid flesh. Orlando's eyes slammed shut, and his mouth formed a sharp line before opening, sliding, placing slick kisses on the soft, sex smelling skin under his tongue. Elijah's gasp broke in his ear as he rocked forward, hips digging into hips, denim clad cocks colliding and glancing and `oh-right-there'. Orlando's tongue
labeled maps to unknown countries on Elijah's slim, tendonned throat, while Elijah's hands trickled down the bumpy alleyway of Orlando's slick, muscled back, lingering over his scars. Scrambling to get closer, Elijah braced his feet on the cabinet under him, and scrapped forward, just as Orlando's perfect white teeth bit into the joint of his neck and shoulder, causing him to spasm, and clutch at Orli's back, leaving white lines with red welts in his wake. The pain jostled Orlando, his large hands slipping between Lij and the mirror behind him, grasping the soft, hard flesh and pulling him forward. "Hobbit." He growled into Elijah's ear before taking the cartilage into his mouth, and biting gently. The deep intake of breath next to his neck was a good sign, and as he worked his hands under the waistband of too tight jeans, he bit harder.
Elijah bucked, and whispered the perfect word "soon" into Orlando's ear, before licking away every trace of it.
Digging fingers into giving skin and flesh, he ground their bodies together, the friction increased as the desire to see Elijah broken grew. The hitching breath in his ear told him that it wouldn't be long, and Elijah's jagged "God, Orli…gonna come soon…" just helped it speed along faster. Orlando dipped his head forward, and licked the small hallow on Elijah's neck. The spiky head slammed into the mirror, shaking the trailer wall with force enough to make Orli cringe. A tiny scrape of teeth to sweet smelling skin, and Elijah was there, screaming out Orlando's name into the smoke filled air of the poorly ventilated trailer. Bitten fingernails were dragging out a taboo on olive skin as Elijah shuddered, sticky heat pouring out of him. Orlando caught the sight of sated blue, the smell of Elijah's release, and he growled deep before adding his own essence to the stench of sex in the small space. Elijah laughed from underneath him as Orlando stopped shaking, and rested his head on Elijah's chest.
"That…was…amazing."
Orlando mumbled something in agreement into the worn cotton of Elijah's shirt. Catching his breath, he raised his head, gazing deep into the warm, peace of blue. "Welcome home, sweetheart."
Elijah's small laugh burst from him before he wrapped his arms around Orlando's neck, pulling him closer. "Yes, love, home."
Title: Down In New Orleans
Author:
doodle_loverFandom: LotR RPS
Rating: uh, I'd say R
Warnings: M/M, drug and alcohol use.
Pairing: Orlijah
Summary: The boys spend a Mardi Gras in New Orleans. Complete.
Feedback: With a cherry on top??
"Where the fuck am I?" Orlando asked himself, barely hoping for an answer. Jesus Christ, he was drunk. That and the huge blunt they had smoked in Billy's car while driving into the city didn't help matters much. Fuck, it didn't help at all. His vision swam, alcohol battling cannabis for dominance. Mardi Gras was in full swing around him. This, the last day of carnival, was for living to the fullest, and that was the mode of operation tonight. Orlando blinked heavily and squinted in front of him, searching for his landmarks, a shaggy blonde, a less shaggy blonde, and a spiky brunette. The men he was traveling with. The men that dragged him down here, not really kicking, maybe a bit of screaming. His friends, Dom, Billy, and Elijah. He blinked heavy again and saw out of the corner of his eye the greenest green he has ever seen. Lime green eyes on an androgynous face. Another blink, and gone. He slowly turned back towards the sidewalk and crossed the side street in front of him. Bourbon and Toulouse, the signs said. "Where the hell are they?" he thought. An arm reached out of an alley as he passed. The world spun out of alignment and settled on the crystalline watercolor of huge blue eyes outlined in velvet and sequins. Orlando grinned like a fool and muttered, "Pretty." He stared into the oceans in front of him. He could see waves crashing on pure, shining beaches, and hear gulls crying out in the sweet sunshine. The contained ocean-eyes got closer, leaning up. He smelled beer. Beer and pot and something more familiar than both. A voice. Honeyed gravel trickled into his ears.
"Orlando?"
Orlando smiled. "Hey, you know my name!"
"Orlando." The voice whispered closer to his lips, ghosts of breath pushing against the chapped skin on his bottom lip, teasing the smaller hairs on his face. He licked his lips, dry tongue questing for moisture. A pair of lips trapped his tongue, dragging it further out, into a dark, wet, slick cave. `Hmm…'Orlando's mind reeled with taste and texture. He ran his tongue over the stranger's teeth, relishing in the sharp contrast of teeth and tongue and cheeks and lips. Familiar. Familiar in smell and taste. The sequins on the carnival mask scraped at Orlando's eyelids, scratching, tiny flares of red pain shooting up in Orlando's swampy mind. Familiar. Famil…elijah. Elijah. Orlando broke the kiss, pulling back, head and eyes jerking and gasping at the sudden movement. He narrowed his eyes, looking into the oceans, heavily lidded, burning and ebbing with lust and need. "Elijah?" he asked.
The eyes behind the dark velvet widened and the arms draped around his waist suddenly forced him away, spinning him toward the mouth of the alley, back towards the melee of lights and sounds that was Bourbon at Mardi Gras. Orlando's eyes closed in retreat to the
onslaught of overwhelming sights and noises. Something slipped past him, brushing him against the hard brick wall to his left. He followed the grungy wall with his hands until they grasped humid air. He opened his eyes, glaring out at the world. He was onslaughted again by arms around waists and voices in ears.
"Oi! Lando! Dom! It's Orli! There ya are, mate!" Billy screamed, way too loud, way too close.
Dom chuckled, "Thought we'd lost ya!" Orlando swayed, dizzy. The blondes steadied him and walked again.
"Hey, there is Lij up there in front of us. Hey, Lij! Hey!" Dom screamed, way too loud, way too close. "Hey, Lij, wait up! Whatcha got there? Hey, cool mask!"
Orlando saw a flurry of arms, then again walking. His head started to hurt, and he closed his eyes, walking blindly, trusting his friends to lead him somewhere with beer and safety. This carnival business was driving him crazy.
Title: Branded as an Angel: Chapter 1
Author:
doodle_loverFandom: LotR RPS
Rating: uh, I'd say R
Warnings: M/M, eventual slash
Pairing: Orlijah
Summary: Elijah gets a tattoo, and it starts to drive Orlando crazy.
Feedback: With a cherry on top??
Bubbles covered the silky skin of his stomach, and tickled the hair on his chest. He could feel the warmth relaxing him and turning him into liquid. Orlando sighed and took a sip of his red wine. His back hurt. Had hurt for the past two weeks, but he was just now getting the opportunity to grab a nice, long bubble bath. He set down the wine glass, and sunk his hands down into the hot water, rubbing them along the length of his sides before slipping one of them back to rub his spine. A small moan oozed from his lips as he rubbed out a nasty knot. Feeling the tension start to disappear, he laced his fingers together on his stomach, idly slipping his pinky finger in and out of his belly button. He could feel himself drifting into a state of intense relaxation, the first time in a
long while when...
"ORLANDO!!"
He sat up with a jerk, water splashing over the sides of the tub to land on his new sides and the dark blue rug on the floor. The front door slammed shut and a patter of feet headed towards him. Multiple feet. Dom's shaggy head appeared from around the doorway. His bleary eyes shot him a look and smiled. "Wet Elf!"
A drunken Billy, Dom, and Elijah stumbled into the steamy room. Billy was in the middle, being supported by the two men flanking him.
"Hey there, Orli. How you doin'?" Dom slurred.
"Fine, I think. What are you guys doing here?"
"Elijah wanted to see you, so we came over."
"I know, I know...no visitors...Orli's health day...but, I wanted to see you." Elijah mumbled over the hard consonants.
"Why?"
"Cause...I finished the tattoo!"
"What?!"
Elijah had been working on a secret tattoo for the past several weeks, almost a month, and now, pranced over to the tub, chucking off his long sleeve sweater and the t-shirt from underneath it. He turned around and thrust his back into Orlando's face. Starting on the upper arch of his shoulder blades was a pair of huge wings, cascading down the ridges of his ribs. The longest of the feathers rippled over the dips of his hipbone, slipping into the waistband of his jeans. The width of the wings themselves breached the expanse of his back, nearly reaching the little valley of his spine. They were black and crystal blue, shaded exquisitely with light and dark grays. Still a bit pink and raw, his back glistened with a fresh coat of Neosporin.
"So!" Elijah shouted, turning around again to face Orlando. "What do you think?" he was saying as he slipped on the wet rug on the floor. He ended up on his knees, by the side of the deep tub.
"I think that it is gorgeous and you are drunk."
"Two outta two! Give the man a prize!"
"What did you let him do to himself?" Orlando asked the other men standing in the room.
"Nothing. He said he wanted to get shitfaced and finish the tat he has been hiding from us for weeks. So, we went to the parlor, and got that guy Trevor to finish it. Then, as per usual, went out to Classified, got drunk. A few drinks later, Elijah here says, 'We gotta go show Orli!'. And here we are." Dom offered.
Billy started to nod, but seemed to have thought better of it once it started. His face turned bright red, and he pulled on Dom's shirt, steadying himself.
"Damn, Bills, are you alright?" Dom asked.
Billy started to shake his head, and looked like he was going to hurl.
"Shit!...I better get him home. Elijah, come on, time to go home."
"NO! I don't wanna go home."
"Lij, come on, man."
"I said I don't wanna go!"
Dom leaned Billy against the doorjamb and started to walk toward Elijah, obviously ready to pull him home, kicking and screaming. Elijah instantly gripped the edge of the wet tub, shrieking at the top of his lungs like a little kid. Orlando's eardrums shrieked right along with him. "Dom! Hey, Dom. Leave him. He can stay."
Elijah's arms released their death grip on the slippery tub and he smiled. Dom went back to Billy, and wound his arms around his waist. "Are you sure? I can take him home."
"I'm sure. It would be easier on all involved. I'll keep him and bring him home later tomorrow. Let him sleep off the liquor and pain."
"Alright. Well, I guess we will see you two later then. Take it easy."
"Sure Dom. Go take care of him."
Dom and Billy staggered back into the living room and out to Dom's car.
Orlando sighed and reached for his towel. He levered his tall body out of the cooling water and wrapped the towel around his dripping waist. Elijah was still on his knees, looking up at Orlando. Orli stepped out of the tub, and mentioning for Lij to follow him, went into the living room. He sat the drunken hobbit on the couch and gave him the remote to the TV. "I am going to get dressed. Stay here. Watch TV. I'll be back soon."
Elijah nodded and turned on the TV, sitting up so that his still exposed back wouldn't touch the couch. Orlando tracked water into his bedroom, where he dried off and slipped on a pair of dark green silk boxers, and a pair of jeans. He used the towel to dry off his curly hair, then spent a few minutes thinking about Elijah. Elijah's back. Elijah's tattoo.
Elijah's wings. Now he really was an angel.
Elijah had turned on "Whose Line Is It, Anyway?" and grabbed a bottled water and chips from the kitchen. He was lying on the couch, face down, when Orlando returned. He grabbed his own bottle of water, and picked up Elijah's feet, sitting on the couch and placing the bare hobbit feet on his lap. Elijah mumbled, "I love it when they do this part!" through a mouthful of Sunchips, then reached around and tried to scratch his back.
"Nu-uh. No scratching. It will just make it hurt more. Do you need some more Neosporin?"
Elijah nodded, laughing at the antics of the actors on the show. Orlando slipped from under Lij's feet and walked into his bathroom, grabbing the tube of antibiotic ointment from the drawer in the counter. Orlando returned and straddled the feet at the end of the couch, settling himself down lightly on Elijah's abused calves.
He unscrewed the cap and tossed it on the table. Taking a small dab in his fingertips, he placed the tube on the back of the couch, and rubbed his hands together. Gently, slowly, knowing how much this would hurt, he touched the barest of touches to the tender, inked skin of Elijah's back. The muscles under his fingers twitched. Jerking his hands off of his back, he asked, "Are you alright, Lij?"
"Yeah, just cold. Wasn't expecting it."
"K." Orlando rubbed his hands together again, heating up the oily ointment as much as he could before placing his hands down on Elijah's sensitive flesh. Carefully, he started at the upper ridge of his shoulder blades, on hand on each wing, and smoothed the ointment down the swoop of the ink. He traced the darkness down, trickling his oily fingers along Elijah's ribs, dipping into the clear blue and inky black of each feather. He glided down under Elijah's waistband and covered the tips of the feathers there. Softly, he kneaded the muscles, kneading the ointment into the sore, tired skin. Orlando reached for the tube and added more on his hands, rubbing them together for heat before running them over the tattoo, putting on the last protective coat of oils.
"There. Better?"
In return, he got a snore.
Title: Brokenhearted
Author:
doodle_loverFandom: LotR RPS
Rating: uh, I'd say G
Warnings: It's a songfic, lyrics from Micheal Buble's rendition 'How do you Mend a Broken Heart?'
Pairing: Pick your own!!!
Summary: Long distance relationships are hard. For some people, just too hard.
Feedback: With a cherry on top??
I can think of younger days when living for my life
Was everything a man could want to do
I could never see tomorrow, but I was never told about the sorrow.
We were unstoppable in New Zealand. Me and you. When it was happening, I couldn’t fathom a day without you. You were the reason I woke up each morning. You were my sunshine, what kept me from jumping without the cord. Neither one of us, hell, none of us could see the end of shooting, and we didn’t really look that hard. But we all agreed that it would have been nice to have some kind of warning against how much it would hurt to face that day.
And how can you mend a broken heart?
How can you stop the rain from falling down?
How can you stop the sun from shining?
What makes the world go round?
We tried to keep together. I’m sure you remember those days. The days of running all over the world, filling passports in a couple of months, learning to sleep on an airplane because every moment together, every moment away from publicists, photographers and rabid fangirls was sacred and were wasted on sleep. I learned to miss the quiet puffs of air coming from your slightly part lips, the lovely shadow that your eyelashes made on the delicate silk of your lower eyelids. I longed for sleep, a long sleep.
How can you mend this broken man?
How can a loser ever win?
Please help me mend my broken heart and let me live again.
It didn’t work. The days that we spent holed up in one hotel room on this side of the world, and that hotel room on the other just wasn’t enough. New Zealand spoiled us. We wanted each other. We needed each other. Not just for a day or so, a weekend if we got lucky, but forever. Always. Soon, we passed up opportunities to spend time with each other to sleep, and to remember.
I can still feel the breeze that rustles through the trees
And misty memories of days gone by.
We could never see tomorrow, no one said a word about the sorrow.
I lived my full of memories. Memories of the days where all I lived for was to love you, and to have you love me back. Days of sunshine, love, peace within myself. The days when my heart was safe in your hands, and you willingly put yours into mine.
And how can you mend a broken heart?
How can you stop the rain from falling down?
How can you stop the sun from shining?
What makes the world go round?
For so long now, I’ve thought about what I’m about to do now. It’s all figured out. I’m tired of the memories, tired of not sleeping. Tired of living this lie of a life without you in it. No one will miss me. Most of all you. And when they find me, they will shake their heads, and say, “This one died of a broken heart.”
How can you mend this broken man?
How can a loser ever win?
Please help me mend my broken heart and let me live again.
I hope that you all enjoyed! So sorry if any was a repost...I honestly can't remember if I've shared them here or not...As always, thanks for reading!
♥♥♥♥♥♥♥♥
no subject
he laced his fingers together on his stomach, idly slipping his pinky finger in and out of his belly button.
That made it seem so real. and cute. :) Well done.
no subject
Glad that I could make that bit feel more real for you!
Thanks again!