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fellowshippers2002-09-12 08:29 pm
gal-montag.livejournal.com) wrote in fellowshippers2002-09-12 08:29 pm
(no subject)
Title: Palm Sweat and Blackjack
Author: Bartleby
Fandom: Actorslash - LotR
Pairing: There really isn’t one
Rating: R
Summary: Elijah plies his trade...
Archive: http://homepage.mac.com/~bartle_by/surreal/
Feedback: Yes, please: bartle_by@mac.com
Series/Sequel: No
Disclaimer: This is not true. I don't know any of the individuals here, nor do I know their sexualities.
Warnings: AU
Elijah chain-smoked nervously, lighting the next cigarette with the flaming stub of the previous. Peter assured him, with a pat on the ass, that the first night was always nerve wracking. So he weathered it, even though it wasn't technically his first night. But Peter didn't have to know that he was used goods.
Elijah rubbed the goose flesh off of his skin and tried to look as cool as he could standing on a corner in downtown Las Vegas at midnight with a pile of spent cigarettes at his feet.
Cars passed and some slowed to gawk, but no one stopped. Elijah hoped that Peter wasn't the hitting type, though luck hadn't exactly been on his side lately. His cheeks hollowed around one last drag and he flicked the cigarette away and shoved his hands in his pockets.
He hunched down against the chill, surprised and disappointed that temperature in winter rarely broke sixty. As soon as he had enough money, he resolved to himself to move to Miami and quit The Life for good.
If he ever got enough money.
Peter let him keep 40%. And that was a damned good deal. More cars, slowing, and moving on. 40% of nothing was still nothing, and he'd likely get a black eye for his troubles. He prayed for someone to stop, wondering vaguely if it was sacrilegious for a whore to pray for work.
Elijah passed under the brightly lit front of the Stardust and cringed a little under the sparkle and neon. He dropped his eyes and drew back into himself, guarded, as though the light somehow allowed people to see through him; the invisible dirt caked on him that never washed clean.
A woman paused and smiled at him. It looked strange on her face, threatening, until Elijah realized that it was genuine. A real smile that reached her eyes, glittering with the giddiness of the full change cup she clutched between her hands. Strange because it was not like the predatory, tightlipped smiles the Johns gave him. They eyed him with shark's eyes, and took twisted pleasure in his trembling.
Elijah no longer trembled, unless they asked him to. But he still shook inside, quaking with self-loathing until they took what they wanted and left money on the dresser.
He had convinced himself that the money made it all worth it. All the beatings and the long nights and the cold and the tiny crescent shaped scar under his eye, and the long jagged one that arced, slick and pink, from the top of his shoulder blade to the waistband of his jeans.
No one had ever asked him about it, and he barely remembered he had it, except when someone glanced their fingers across it. It still itched, the itch Elijah could never reach.
A hand was laid on his chest and he looked up expecting Vice again.
"Are you working?"
Elijah paused; nodded.
"How much?"
"What are you looking for?"
"Ah..." The John stammered and colored, or at least it appeared so under the lights. Elijah rolled his eyes; he hated it when the perverts were to shy to just say what they wanted.
"Hundred for my time, seventy-five and I'll suck you off, one-fifty for half and half, two and I'll fuck you, three and you can fuck me." Rattled off like something so benign as the menu at Denny's. Though at bottom, Elijah was little more than that. A menu, or at least an item on one.
"Um, one-seventy-five?"
Elijah shrugged. "Your place or mine?" His place usually comprised of some dark corner, a rarity in Las Vegas. But it was his job to know where they were.
"I have a room in Luxor." Elijah hesitated. "I'll pay for the cab." The John added hastily.
Elijah dropped his cigarette and smiled. Huge and fake, perfected to appear as sincere as possible. "Your place then."
The cab ride was silent, save a quiet introduction.
"I'm Dominic." He said.
"Hi." Elijah feigned a vague interest, but said nothing more. The Johns never asked for a name, usually preferring to call him 'bitch' or 'slut' or something like that.
Dominic asked: "What's your name?"
"Ah, Elijah?" Too startled to think of anything else.
"Are you asking me?"
"No. No, it's Elijah."
Dominic smiled and pressed his head back against the car seat. Elijah watched him curiously for a minute, and then out the window, hunting for the Luxor's white light.
The cab stopped under the Luxor's awning and Dominic carelessly tossed a couple of bills over the front seat and half threw himself out of the car. He bounced and twisted his fingers together nervously. Elijah was more languid, he eased coolly out of the car and lit another cigarette; took a long. Slow. Drag. As though he had all the time in the world, and blew it out with the same casual lack of concern.
Elijah was faking. And had Dominic bothered to look close enough he might have noticed.
Instead, he walked around the back of the cab and watched patiently while Elijah finished his cigarette.
"So, ah, do you want to go upstairs? Or- are you hungry?"
Elijah laughed, an honest laugh, another rarity. "This isn't a date, you don't have to buy me dinner."
Dominic shrugged. "Are you hungry? I'll pay you extra."
Elijah wasn't about to look that gift horse in the mouth. And he was a little hungry. So he nodded. "You've never done this before, have you?"
Dominic looked at him blankly. "Done what?"
Elijah shrugged. Okay, it was a date. He could play along with that. "Nothing, never mind. Let's go eat, huh?" Dominic nodded cheerfully.
There was a little restaurant up on the second floor. Elijah got more than he would ever eat, and ate less than he needed to be full, finally patting his belly like he couldn't eat another bite and gratefully accepted the bag given him to shovel the rest of his dinner into.
If Dominic thought that was strange, he didn't mention it.
He wiped his mouth; polished off his water. "So, what do you want to do now?"
There were a lot of things Elijah could think of for them to do. Instead, he said: "Um, what did you have in mind? It's a little late to catch a show..."
Dominic laughed. "How do you feel about gambling?"
It surprised Elijah how well the dice fit in his fist, and how often they rolled his way. So much easier to gamble when the money wasn't his own. He was having fun; he forgot what he was there for until Dominic pulled him away from the table, with a cup full of clattering chips in his hands and kissed him.
Elijah panicked and recoiled, shoving Dominic away and dropping the
noisy cup on the floor.
"What the fuck is wrong with you?" He burst, suddenly panicky and skittish, like an animal. People were staring at him, and a few were making off with the chips that had scattered across the floor at his feet. He uncoiled slowly and pulled out his cigarettes, trying to play it cool.
Dominic's mouth opened slightly, and his eyes were wounded. "I'm sorry." He said.
Elijah cast his eyes down. "You didn't know." He muttered, pushing one of the discarded chips around with the toe of his sneaker.
A keno girl and a security guard knelt on the floor scraping together the remaining chips and dropping them back into the cup. The guard gruffly thanked the girl and pressed the cup into Elijah's trembling fingers.
"You ought to be more careful, son." He admonished. "There's near two thousand in there, would you like an escort to the cashier's window?"
Elijah nodded, and Dominic followed. "Why can't I kiss you?" He whispered.
"Because I don't love you."
Dominic nodded as though that was enough, even though it wasn't.
The cashier, a young woman in a blackjack vest, counted out the chips and passed a stack of fifties through the cage. Nineteen hundred dollars Elijah tried to press into Dominic's hands.
"You earned it, mate." He drawled, quietly.
Elijah hesitated and crammed the wad of cash into his pockets. That much money would make up for an entire evening spent with one john. He breathed deeply. "So." Swallow. "This is the part where you take me back to your room and I suck you off and..."
"I didn't hire you because I wanted sex."
Elijah barked off a laugh. "I'm a whore, not a fucking escort service."
Dominic winced. "I know, I just thought-"
"Nothing." Elijah finished. "How 'bout I go?"
"I can't stop you."
"Good." Elijah airily lit a cigarette and left.
The outside air had grown heavy with humidity and every so often a fat raindrop would spatter in Elijah’s hair. He crammed his hands into his pockets and wrapped himself in his regrets.
~Fin
Author: Bartleby
Fandom: Actorslash - LotR
Pairing: There really isn’t one
Rating: R
Summary: Elijah plies his trade...
Archive: http://homepage.mac.com/~bartle_by/surreal/
Feedback: Yes, please: bartle_by@mac.com
Series/Sequel: No
Disclaimer: This is not true. I don't know any of the individuals here, nor do I know their sexualities.
Warnings: AU
Elijah chain-smoked nervously, lighting the next cigarette with the flaming stub of the previous. Peter assured him, with a pat on the ass, that the first night was always nerve wracking. So he weathered it, even though it wasn't technically his first night. But Peter didn't have to know that he was used goods.
Elijah rubbed the goose flesh off of his skin and tried to look as cool as he could standing on a corner in downtown Las Vegas at midnight with a pile of spent cigarettes at his feet.
Cars passed and some slowed to gawk, but no one stopped. Elijah hoped that Peter wasn't the hitting type, though luck hadn't exactly been on his side lately. His cheeks hollowed around one last drag and he flicked the cigarette away and shoved his hands in his pockets.
He hunched down against the chill, surprised and disappointed that temperature in winter rarely broke sixty. As soon as he had enough money, he resolved to himself to move to Miami and quit The Life for good.
If he ever got enough money.
Peter let him keep 40%. And that was a damned good deal. More cars, slowing, and moving on. 40% of nothing was still nothing, and he'd likely get a black eye for his troubles. He prayed for someone to stop, wondering vaguely if it was sacrilegious for a whore to pray for work.
Elijah passed under the brightly lit front of the Stardust and cringed a little under the sparkle and neon. He dropped his eyes and drew back into himself, guarded, as though the light somehow allowed people to see through him; the invisible dirt caked on him that never washed clean.
A woman paused and smiled at him. It looked strange on her face, threatening, until Elijah realized that it was genuine. A real smile that reached her eyes, glittering with the giddiness of the full change cup she clutched between her hands. Strange because it was not like the predatory, tightlipped smiles the Johns gave him. They eyed him with shark's eyes, and took twisted pleasure in his trembling.
Elijah no longer trembled, unless they asked him to. But he still shook inside, quaking with self-loathing until they took what they wanted and left money on the dresser.
He had convinced himself that the money made it all worth it. All the beatings and the long nights and the cold and the tiny crescent shaped scar under his eye, and the long jagged one that arced, slick and pink, from the top of his shoulder blade to the waistband of his jeans.
No one had ever asked him about it, and he barely remembered he had it, except when someone glanced their fingers across it. It still itched, the itch Elijah could never reach.
A hand was laid on his chest and he looked up expecting Vice again.
"Are you working?"
Elijah paused; nodded.
"How much?"
"What are you looking for?"
"Ah..." The John stammered and colored, or at least it appeared so under the lights. Elijah rolled his eyes; he hated it when the perverts were to shy to just say what they wanted.
"Hundred for my time, seventy-five and I'll suck you off, one-fifty for half and half, two and I'll fuck you, three and you can fuck me." Rattled off like something so benign as the menu at Denny's. Though at bottom, Elijah was little more than that. A menu, or at least an item on one.
"Um, one-seventy-five?"
Elijah shrugged. "Your place or mine?" His place usually comprised of some dark corner, a rarity in Las Vegas. But it was his job to know where they were.
"I have a room in Luxor." Elijah hesitated. "I'll pay for the cab." The John added hastily.
Elijah dropped his cigarette and smiled. Huge and fake, perfected to appear as sincere as possible. "Your place then."
The cab ride was silent, save a quiet introduction.
"I'm Dominic." He said.
"Hi." Elijah feigned a vague interest, but said nothing more. The Johns never asked for a name, usually preferring to call him 'bitch' or 'slut' or something like that.
Dominic asked: "What's your name?"
"Ah, Elijah?" Too startled to think of anything else.
"Are you asking me?"
"No. No, it's Elijah."
Dominic smiled and pressed his head back against the car seat. Elijah watched him curiously for a minute, and then out the window, hunting for the Luxor's white light.
The cab stopped under the Luxor's awning and Dominic carelessly tossed a couple of bills over the front seat and half threw himself out of the car. He bounced and twisted his fingers together nervously. Elijah was more languid, he eased coolly out of the car and lit another cigarette; took a long. Slow. Drag. As though he had all the time in the world, and blew it out with the same casual lack of concern.
Elijah was faking. And had Dominic bothered to look close enough he might have noticed.
Instead, he walked around the back of the cab and watched patiently while Elijah finished his cigarette.
"So, ah, do you want to go upstairs? Or- are you hungry?"
Elijah laughed, an honest laugh, another rarity. "This isn't a date, you don't have to buy me dinner."
Dominic shrugged. "Are you hungry? I'll pay you extra."
Elijah wasn't about to look that gift horse in the mouth. And he was a little hungry. So he nodded. "You've never done this before, have you?"
Dominic looked at him blankly. "Done what?"
Elijah shrugged. Okay, it was a date. He could play along with that. "Nothing, never mind. Let's go eat, huh?" Dominic nodded cheerfully.
There was a little restaurant up on the second floor. Elijah got more than he would ever eat, and ate less than he needed to be full, finally patting his belly like he couldn't eat another bite and gratefully accepted the bag given him to shovel the rest of his dinner into.
If Dominic thought that was strange, he didn't mention it.
He wiped his mouth; polished off his water. "So, what do you want to do now?"
There were a lot of things Elijah could think of for them to do. Instead, he said: "Um, what did you have in mind? It's a little late to catch a show..."
Dominic laughed. "How do you feel about gambling?"
It surprised Elijah how well the dice fit in his fist, and how often they rolled his way. So much easier to gamble when the money wasn't his own. He was having fun; he forgot what he was there for until Dominic pulled him away from the table, with a cup full of clattering chips in his hands and kissed him.
Elijah panicked and recoiled, shoving Dominic away and dropping the
noisy cup on the floor.
"What the fuck is wrong with you?" He burst, suddenly panicky and skittish, like an animal. People were staring at him, and a few were making off with the chips that had scattered across the floor at his feet. He uncoiled slowly and pulled out his cigarettes, trying to play it cool.
Dominic's mouth opened slightly, and his eyes were wounded. "I'm sorry." He said.
Elijah cast his eyes down. "You didn't know." He muttered, pushing one of the discarded chips around with the toe of his sneaker.
A keno girl and a security guard knelt on the floor scraping together the remaining chips and dropping them back into the cup. The guard gruffly thanked the girl and pressed the cup into Elijah's trembling fingers.
"You ought to be more careful, son." He admonished. "There's near two thousand in there, would you like an escort to the cashier's window?"
Elijah nodded, and Dominic followed. "Why can't I kiss you?" He whispered.
"Because I don't love you."
Dominic nodded as though that was enough, even though it wasn't.
The cashier, a young woman in a blackjack vest, counted out the chips and passed a stack of fifties through the cage. Nineteen hundred dollars Elijah tried to press into Dominic's hands.
"You earned it, mate." He drawled, quietly.
Elijah hesitated and crammed the wad of cash into his pockets. That much money would make up for an entire evening spent with one john. He breathed deeply. "So." Swallow. "This is the part where you take me back to your room and I suck you off and..."
"I didn't hire you because I wanted sex."
Elijah barked off a laugh. "I'm a whore, not a fucking escort service."
Dominic winced. "I know, I just thought-"
"Nothing." Elijah finished. "How 'bout I go?"
"I can't stop you."
"Good." Elijah airily lit a cigarette and left.
The outside air had grown heavy with humidity and every so often a fat raindrop would spatter in Elijah’s hair. He crammed his hands into his pockets and wrapped himself in his regrets.
~Fin
no subject
seriously, i'm not usually for "MORE!" requests, but this really feels like it stopped midway through. what would it take to make you write more? :)
Re:
Re:
no subject
more?
please?
Re:
Thank you, though.
Meep?
I need to join up with that Lotrips AU fic group. Where is it, yo.
Re: Meep?
And I actually don't know where that group is.
Re: Meep?
http://groups.yahoo.com/group/lotr_aurps/
Doro
Ouch
Well done. Sucker punch, ow.
Re: Ouch