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fellowshippers2004-02-01 06:14 pm
popculturefire.livejournal.com) wrote in fellowshippers2004-02-01 06:14 pm
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Wrote this one the other night for my roommate. She has an Unnatural Elijah Fixation.
Title: Expecting a Different Result
Author: Amanda
Rating: NC-17
Pairing: Orlijah
Summary: The definition of insanity is doing the same thing and expecting a different result.
Elijah knows he's not the one.
It's easy to tell. He can see it in Orlando's eyes.
However, when you've got a cock up your ass, it's an easy thing to forget. When someone's grinding against you, skin to skin, slick with sweat and precome, it really doesn't matter who you're with and how.
It doesn't matter that they both wish they were somewhere, anywhere, else. It doesn't matter that they've been at this every night for months. Every night in the same routine—club, drink, drink more, turn down girls and go home with each other.
Every night. Go home, strip down, kiss, lick, fuck, done.
It's a good fuck—Orlando has obviously done it before. Orli knows what Lij needs, how he needs, why he needs.
They meet in the bedroom in a tangle of sweat-soaked clubbing clothes. Shirts flung off in haste, landing in dusty cobwebbed corners. Pants next, then boxers, hard cocks jumping in anticipation.
Into the bed now, hard and aching for action. Elijah takes the lead tonight, though—that's definitely different. Elijah hasn't often taken the lead. He often wonders about that, why he's so timid, so reluctant to acknowledge his own role in the lovemaking. Then he remembers, it's not lovemaking, it's fucking. Orli made that clear the first day. "Lust, not love. Always remember that."
When did he get so damn smart?
Sheets ripped off, tossed aside, discarded, like Elijah knows he will be someday. It's inevitable. He's not looking for anything permanent, anything meaningful. Those are the ground rules. He's never been one to go against the rules. Sometimes he thinks that's a curse.
Elijah slips on the condom, even though it's painfully clear to both of them that neither of them are doing anything with anyone else right now. It's different tonight, though. Elijah's doing the taking tonight. He hardly knows how he got so bold. Maybe it's because he saw Dom and Billy leave the club together. Maybe it's because Dom and Billy have left the club together a lot lately.
Lij plunges a finger into Orli, no preparation, wants him to feel as frustrated as he feels with the unfortunate status quo. Another finger now, and Orli is relaxing, giving himself over to the moment. Giving in. Orli *never* gives in.
Elijah reaches for the bottle of lube in the top drawer of the nightstand. He's not really into causing pain—not physical, anyway. He's really just being careless. He doesn't understand what's come over him. This isn't Elijah. This isn't the angel-eyed pinup.
Thank God.
Elijah thrusts hard and stays there for a long moment. Orli gasps heavily, his breathing already ragged. A few more thrusts and Orli starts the moaning. He always does that, but it's different this time. It's more agonized, and Lij feels slightly sorry for the pain he's causing. But only for a second. Nothing more.
Pain is why they're here.
Lij thinks of all the missed opportunities and thrusts harder, faster. Dammit. God fucking damn it. Get me out of here. Get me what I want.
Who I want.
Elijah lets out a long, shuddering breath as he comes and pulls out. He drops the condom in the trash and lies back on the bed, staring blankly at the ceiling. Existential wonderings float lazily through his head. Why are we here? What are we doing? What's this all about?
The answers are easy enough. It's about pain, shared pain. Trying to fuck the pain away. It's about never being good enough. Dominic, Viggo, these are great men. Elijah and Orlando are merely ordinary. Average.
Orlando slides off the bed and goes into the tiny bathroom. Elijah's gaze never wavers from the ceiling plaster. He's sick of this, all of this. He's sick of hurting. He's sick of settling. He's sick of the cold dread in his stomach every time he sees Dom. He's sick of always wishing he were anywhere but in his own skin.
He runs a hand through his damp hair and sighs. He hates going to sleep because it just means he'll wake up to this stifling mediocrity again tomorrow. He hears the bathroom door open. He knows Orlando is getting ready to leave. He never stays, it's another one of the rules.
No one ever stays.
Tomorrow night they'll do this all over again, and Elijah will once again wonder why he still feels the pain.
Title: Expecting a Different Result
Author: Amanda
Rating: NC-17
Pairing: Orlijah
Summary: The definition of insanity is doing the same thing and expecting a different result.
Elijah knows he's not the one.
It's easy to tell. He can see it in Orlando's eyes.
However, when you've got a cock up your ass, it's an easy thing to forget. When someone's grinding against you, skin to skin, slick with sweat and precome, it really doesn't matter who you're with and how.
It doesn't matter that they both wish they were somewhere, anywhere, else. It doesn't matter that they've been at this every night for months. Every night in the same routine—club, drink, drink more, turn down girls and go home with each other.
Every night. Go home, strip down, kiss, lick, fuck, done.
It's a good fuck—Orlando has obviously done it before. Orli knows what Lij needs, how he needs, why he needs.
They meet in the bedroom in a tangle of sweat-soaked clubbing clothes. Shirts flung off in haste, landing in dusty cobwebbed corners. Pants next, then boxers, hard cocks jumping in anticipation.
Into the bed now, hard and aching for action. Elijah takes the lead tonight, though—that's definitely different. Elijah hasn't often taken the lead. He often wonders about that, why he's so timid, so reluctant to acknowledge his own role in the lovemaking. Then he remembers, it's not lovemaking, it's fucking. Orli made that clear the first day. "Lust, not love. Always remember that."
When did he get so damn smart?
Sheets ripped off, tossed aside, discarded, like Elijah knows he will be someday. It's inevitable. He's not looking for anything permanent, anything meaningful. Those are the ground rules. He's never been one to go against the rules. Sometimes he thinks that's a curse.
Elijah slips on the condom, even though it's painfully clear to both of them that neither of them are doing anything with anyone else right now. It's different tonight, though. Elijah's doing the taking tonight. He hardly knows how he got so bold. Maybe it's because he saw Dom and Billy leave the club together. Maybe it's because Dom and Billy have left the club together a lot lately.
Lij plunges a finger into Orli, no preparation, wants him to feel as frustrated as he feels with the unfortunate status quo. Another finger now, and Orli is relaxing, giving himself over to the moment. Giving in. Orli *never* gives in.
Elijah reaches for the bottle of lube in the top drawer of the nightstand. He's not really into causing pain—not physical, anyway. He's really just being careless. He doesn't understand what's come over him. This isn't Elijah. This isn't the angel-eyed pinup.
Thank God.
Elijah thrusts hard and stays there for a long moment. Orli gasps heavily, his breathing already ragged. A few more thrusts and Orli starts the moaning. He always does that, but it's different this time. It's more agonized, and Lij feels slightly sorry for the pain he's causing. But only for a second. Nothing more.
Pain is why they're here.
Lij thinks of all the missed opportunities and thrusts harder, faster. Dammit. God fucking damn it. Get me out of here. Get me what I want.
Who I want.
Elijah lets out a long, shuddering breath as he comes and pulls out. He drops the condom in the trash and lies back on the bed, staring blankly at the ceiling. Existential wonderings float lazily through his head. Why are we here? What are we doing? What's this all about?
The answers are easy enough. It's about pain, shared pain. Trying to fuck the pain away. It's about never being good enough. Dominic, Viggo, these are great men. Elijah and Orlando are merely ordinary. Average.
Orlando slides off the bed and goes into the tiny bathroom. Elijah's gaze never wavers from the ceiling plaster. He's sick of this, all of this. He's sick of hurting. He's sick of settling. He's sick of the cold dread in his stomach every time he sees Dom. He's sick of always wishing he were anywhere but in his own skin.
He runs a hand through his damp hair and sighs. He hates going to sleep because it just means he'll wake up to this stifling mediocrity again tomorrow. He hears the bathroom door open. He knows Orlando is getting ready to leave. He never stays, it's another one of the rules.
No one ever stays.
Tomorrow night they'll do this all over again, and Elijah will once again wonder why he still feels the pain.