fellowshippers | More Kitchen Sex

Title: Phones and Fridges 2/3

Pairing: Dom/Orli

Rating: Hmm...I'm gonna say R for language

Summary: The boys finally get some action, but not much

Disclaimer: Don't know these people, purely inside my head kinda thing.

Part 1 can be found here
cross posted at

dorli

Part 2: The Game

“I wanna talk to Billy!” Elijah jumped up and started walking towards Dom.

Dom paused mid-sentence, “When I’m done!” and continued with what he was saying. He was determined not to be distracted. But Elijah was determined to talk to Billy. When Dom had his back turned, he snatched the phone away and ran to his room.

“Oi! Give that back!” Dom ran after him, finding the door locked. Behind it, Elijah’s high-pitched giggle could be heard.

Orlando chuckled. That worked perfectly! Elijah had unknowingly helped him out. Time to start the game. “Give it up, mate, he’s not gonna give your cell phone back,” he called to Dom, who was incessantly pounding on the locked door. “Sit down and watch a movie with me.”

Dom turned around, his blue-gray eyes blazing. “I don’t want to watch a movie, I want to continue my discussion with Billy!”

Orlando patted the couch next to him. “You needed a break. Come have a beer with me, Sblomie.” He smiled sweetly at Dom. Dom, in turn, glared at Orlando, but walked over and sat down with a sigh.

“It’s just, we need to get going on that damn script! We set a deadline and by god, we’re gonna meet it!”

“Relax,” Orlando soothed, handing him a beer. “You have plenty of time to do that. Right now, I’m here, and since Lij is on the phone, it’s your job to entertain me.”

Dom sipped his beer. “Entertain you? Sorry, man, but I’m not in an entertaining mood right now. I’m in a writing mood!”

“Some host you are!” Orlando exclaimed, walking to the kitchen for another beer. “Leave your guest all bored and lonely!”

“Boo-fuckin‘-hoo, mate,” Dom picked up the remote and was flipping through channels. Orlando came up behind him and brushed his cold beer bottle against the back of Dom’s neck. “Hey!” Dom jumped, swiping at the back of his neck. “Wanker!” Orlando perched on the arm of the couch next to Dom, smiling that wonderfully fake smile he used for the cameras.

They sat in silence for a few minutes, watching show after show flicker on the TV. screen. Sports, news, news, laughter, cops, sports. Dom was channel surfing so fast, Orlando could barely make out what was on the screen. Faintly, they heard Elijah break out into a fit of giggles.

“Cunt,” Dom muttered, throwing down the remote.

“Hmm?” Orlando wasn’t paying much attention. He was too busy plotting out strategy. Drinking beer and channel surfing just would not do.

“Lij,” Dom gestured to Elijah’s bedroom with his beer bottle. “Fucking cunt. Fucking phone-stealing cunt!”

Orlando sighed. “Get over it already!” He slid from the arm of the couch directly into Dom’s lap, almost spilling his beer in the process.

“Hello,” Dom said quizzically.

Orlando rested his head against Dom’s shoulder. “Hello.” He then began nuzzling behind Dom’s ear.

“Good-bye,” Dom replied, trying to push the younger man off him, but Orlando locked his hands behind Dom’s neck.

“You know,” Orlando said, his voice muffled by Dom’s neck, “you’re quite comfortable.”

“Get off, Orli,” Dom instructed, poking him very hard in the ribs.

“Hey!” Orlando’s head popped up, pouting. “I’m not that heavy!”

Dom smiled. “No, but you’re bony!” And before he knew what hit him, Orlando had been dumped on the floor! He looked up at Dom in bewilderment. Dom sipped his beer and stared at the TV, looking smug. How dare he look smug! That’s Orlando’s job! Orlando gathered himself up from the floor, glaring at Dom.

“Oh, hey! What’re you doin’ down there, mate?” Dom asked innocently. Oh, he would so pay for that!

Orlando straightened up his gaudy blue shirt and sat down as if his dignity were still intact. “Just looking for something I lost,” he replied, smoothing his hands down his denim-clad legs.

“What’d you lose?” Dom asked, standing up and draining the last of his beer as he strutted to the kitchen.

Orlando picked up his beer and followed him. Not the game, he thought. That had better not be what Dom was implying, because he never loses. “A pen.”

Dom was inspecting the contents of the fridge. As he leaned down to check out the bottom shelf, his t-shirt rode up slightly in the back, catching Orlando’s attention. “Maybe you put it in a drawer,” Dom suggested, straightening up with a bag of bagels in one hand, a tub of cream cheese in the other. He shut the door to the refrigerator with his foot. “Orli?”

Orlando had been staring. He managed to meet Dom’s slightly humored gaze and mentally kicked himself. Dom was winning without even trying! “Present.”

Dom chuckled. “Were you even listening?”

No. “Yes.” He stepped closer to Dom, setting his beer down on the counter. Time to win.

“You were not!” Dom accused. “You were off in-” Dom was cut off by Orlando’s slightly chapped lips on his soft ones.

He was supposed to pull away. That was how the game was supposed to work. He was supposed to pull back, wipe his mouth on the back of his hand, calling Orlando all sorts of names. He was supposed to walk back to the couch and sulk and be a bad loser. He was supposed to pull away. But he didn’t.